{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5668/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5668","id":"gutenberg_5668","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5668","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales","Tales -- Arab countries"],"text":"Produced by J. C. Byers, Sally Gellert, Renate Preuss, and\nChristine Sturrock.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                    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 1\n\n     Only 500 copies of the Small Paper Edition are printed\n             for America, of which this is No. 217\n\n\n                             London\n                      Pickering and Chatto\n                              1890\n\n\n\n\n                    The Publishers' Preface.\n\n\n\nThis, the \"Aldine Edition\" of \"The Arabian Nights\nEntertainments,\" forms the first four volumes of a proposed\nseries of reprints of the Standard works of fiction which have\nappeared in the English language.\n\nIt is our intention to publish the series in an artistic way,\nwell illustrating a text typographically as perfect as possible.\nThe texts in all cases will be carefully chosen from approved\neditions.\n\nThe series is intended for those who appreciate well printed and\nillustrated books, or who are in want of a handy and handsome\nedition of such works to place upon their bookshelves.\n\nThe exact origin of the Tales, which appear in the Arabic as \"The\nThousand and One Nights,\" is unknown. The Caliph Haroon al\nRusheed, who, figures in so lifelike a manner in many of the\nstories, was a contemporary of the Emperor Charlemagne, and there\nis internal evidence that the collection was made in the Arabic\nlanguage about the end of the tenth century.\n\nThey undoubtedly convey a picturesque impression of the manners,\nsentiments, and customs of Eastern Mediaeval Life.\n\nThe stories were translated from the Arabic by M. Galland and\nfirst found their way into English in 1704, when they were\nretranslated from M. Galland's French text and at once became\nexceedingly popular.\n\nThis process of double translation had great disadvantages; it\ninduced Dr. Jonathan Scott, Oriental Professor, to publish in\n1811, a new edition, revised and corrected from the Arabic.\n\nIt is upon this text that the present edition is formed.\n\nIt will be found free from that grossness which is unavoidable in\na strictly literal translation of the original into English; and\nwhich has rendered the splendid translations of Sir R. Burton and\nMr. J. Payne quite unsuitable as the basis of a popular edition,\nthough at the same time stamping the works as the two most\nperfect editions for the student.\n\nThe scholarly translation of Lane, by the too strict an adherence\nto Oriental forms of expression, and somewhat pedantic rendering\nof the spelling of proper names, is found to be tedious to a very\nlarge number of readers attracted by the rich imagination,\nromance, and humour of these tales.\n\n\n\n                     Contents of Volume I.\n\nThe Ass, the Ox, and the Labourer.\nTHE MERCHANT AND THE GENIE.\nThe Story of the First Old Man and the Hind.\nThe Story of the Second old Man and the Two Black Dogs.\nTHE STORY OF THE FISHERMAN.\nThe Story of the Grecian King and the Physician Douban.\nThe Story of the Husband and the Parrot.\nThe Story of the Vizier that was Punished.\nThe History of the Young King of the Black Isles.\nSTORY OF THE THREE CALENDERS, SONS OF SULTANS; AND OF THE FIVE\n  LADIES OF BAGDAD.\nThe History of the First Calender.\nThe Story of the Second Calender.\nThe Story of the Envious Man, and of him that he Envied.\nThe History of the Third Calender.\nThe Story of Zobeide.\nThe Story of Amene.\nTHE STORY OF SINBAD THE VOYAGER.\nThe First Voyage.\nThe Second Voyage.\nThe Third Voyage.\nThe Fourth Voyage.\nThe Fifth Voyage.\nThe Sixth Voyage.\nThe Seventh and Last Voyage.\nTHE THREE APPLES.\nThe Story of the Lady who was Murdered, and of the Young Man her Husband.\nThe Story of Noor ad Deen Ali and Buddir ad Deen Houssun.\nTHE HISTORY OF GANEM, SON OF ABOU AYOUB, AND KNOWN BY THE SURNAME\n  OF LOVE'S SLAVE.\n\n\n\n\n               The Arabian Nights Entertainments.\n\n\n\nThe chronicles of the Sassanians, ancient kings of Persia, who\nextended their empire into the Indies, over all the adjacent\nislands, and a great way beyond the Ganges, as far as China,\nacquaint us, that there was formerly a king of that potent\nfamily, who was regarded as the most excellent prince of his\ntime. He was as much beloved by his subjects for his wisdom and\nprudence, as he was dreaded by his neighbours, on account of his\nvelour, and well-disciplined troops. He had two sons; the elder\nShier-ear, the worthy heir of his father, and endowed with all\nhis virtues; the younger Shaw-zummaun, a prince of equal merit.\n\nAfter a long and glorious reign, this king died; and Shier-ear\nmounted his throne. Shaw-zummaun, being excluded from all share\nin the government by the laws of the empire, and obliged to live\na private life, was so far from envying the happiness of his\nbrother, that he made it his whole business to please him, and in\nthis succeeded without much difficulty. Shier-ear, who had\nnaturally a great affection the prince his brother, gave him the\nkingdom of Great Tartary. Shaw-zummaun went immediately and took\npossession of it, and fixed the seat of his government at\nSamarcand, the metropolis of the country.\n\nAfter they had been separated ten years, Shier-ear, being very\ndesirous of seeing his brother, resolved to send an ambassador to\ninvite him to his court. He made choice of his prime vizier for\nthe embassy, and sent him to Tartary, with a retinue answerable\nto his dignity. The vizier proceeded with all possible expedition\nto Samarcand. When he came near the city, Shaw-zummaun was\ninformed of his approach, and went to meet him attended by the\nprincipal lords of his court, who, to shew the greater honour to\nthe sultan's minister, appeared in magnificent apparel. The king\nof Tartary received the ambassador with the greatest\ndemonstrations of joy; and immediately asked him concerning the\nwelfare of the sultan his brother. The vizier having acquainted\nhim that he was in health, informed him of the purpose of his\nembassy. Shaw-zummaun was much affected, and answered: \"Sage\nvizier, the sultan my brother does me too much honour; nothing\ncould be more agreeable to me, for I as ardently long to see him\nas he does to see me. Time has not diminished my friendship more\nthan his. My kingdom is in peace, and I want no more than ten\ndays to get myself ready to return with you. There is therefore\nno necessity for your entering the city for so short a period. I\npray you to pitch your tents here, and I will order everything\nnecessary to be provided for yourself and your attendants.\" The\nvizier readily complied; and as soon as the king returned to the\ncity, he sent him a prodigious quantity of provisions of all\nsorts, with presents of great value.\n\nIn the meanwhile, Shaw-zummaun prepared for his journey, gave\norders about his most important affairs, appointed a council to\ngovern in his absence, and named a minister, of whose wisdom he\nhad sufficient experience, and in whom he had entire confidence,\nto be their president. At the end of ten days, his equipage being\nready, he took leave of the queen his wife, and went out of town\nin the evening with his retinue. He pitched his royal pavilion\nnear the vizier's tent, and conversed with him till midnight.\nWishing once more to see the queen, whom he ardently loved, he\nreturned alone to his palace, and went directly to her majesty's\napartments. But she, not expecting his return, had taken one of\nthe meanest officers of her household to her bed.\n\nThe king entered without noise, and pleased himself to think how\nhe should surprise his wife who he thought loved him with\nreciprocal tenderness. But how great was his astonishment, when,\nby the light of the flambeau, he beheld a man in her arms! He\nstood immovable for some time, not knowing how to believe his own\neyes. But finding there was no room for doubt, \"How!\" said he to\nhimself, \"I am scarcely out of my palace, and but just under the\nwalls of Samarcand, and dare they put such an outrage upon me?\nPerfidious wretches! your crime shall not go unpunished. As a\nking, I am bound to punish wickedness committed in my dominions;\nand as an enraged husband, I must sacrifice you to my just\nresentment.\" The unfortunate prince, giving way to his rage, then\ndrew his cimeter, and approaching the bed killed them both with\none blow, their sleep into death; and afterwards taking them up,\nhe threw them out of a window into the ditch that surrounded the\npalace.\n\nHaving thus avenged himself, he returned to his pavilion without\nsaying one word of what had happened, gave orders that the tents\nshould be struck, and everything made ready for his journey. All\nwas speedily prepared, and before day he began his march, with\nkettle-drums and other instruments of music, that filled everyone\nwith joy, excepting the king; he was so much afflicted by the\ndisloyalty of his wife, that he was seized with extreme\nmelancholy, which preyed upon his spirits during the whole of his\njourney.\n\nWhen he drew near the capital of the Indies, the sultan Shier-ear and\nall his court came out to meet him. The princes were overjoyed to see\none another, and having alighted, after mutual embraces and other\nmarks of affection and respect, remounted, and entered the city,\namidst the acclamations of the people. The sultan conducted his\nbrother to the palace provided for him, which had a communication with\nhis own by a garden. It was so much the more magnificent as it was set\napart as a banqueting-house for public entertainments, and other\ndiversions of the court, and its splendour had been lately augmented\nby new furniture.\n\nShier-ear immediately left the king of Tartary, that he might\ngive him time to bathe, and to change his apparel. As soon as he\nhad done, he returned to him again, and they sat down together on\na sofa or alcove. The courtiers out of respect kept at a\ndistance, and the two princes entertained one another suitably to\ntheir friendship, their consanguinity, and their long separation.\nThe time of supper being come, they ate together, after which\nthey renewed their conversation, which continued till Shier-ear,\nperceiving that it was very late, left his brother to repose.\n\nThe unfortunate Shaw-zummaun retired to bed. Though the\nconversation of his brother had suspended his grief for some\ntime, it returned again with increased violence; so that, instead\nof taking his necessary rest, he tormented himself with the\nbitterest reflections. All the circumstances of his wife's\ndisloyalty presented themselves afresh to his imagination, in so\nlively a manner, that he was like one distracted being able to\nsleep, he arose, and abandoned himself to the most afflicting\nthoughts, which made such an impression upon his countenance, as\nit was impossible for the sultan not to observe. \"What,\" said he,\n\"can be the matter with the king of Tartary that he is so\nmelancholy? Has he any cause to complain of his reception? No,\nsurely; I have received him as a brother whom I love, so that I\ncan charge myself with no omission in that respect. Perhaps it\ngrieves him to be at such a distance from his dominions, or from\nthe queen his wife? If that be the case, I must forthwith give\nhim the presents I designed for him, that he may return to\nSamarcand.\" Accordingly the next day Shier-ear sent him part of\nthose presents, being the greatest rarities and the richest\nthings that the Indies could afford. At the same time he\nendeavoured to divert his brother every day by new objects of\npleasure, and the most splendid entertainments. But these,\ninstead of affording him ease, only increased his sorrow.\n\nOne day, Shier-ear having appointed a great hunting-match, about\ntwo days journey from his capital, in a place that abounded with\ndeer, Shaw-zummaun besought him to excuse his attendance, for his\nhealth would not allow him to bear him company. The sultan,\nunwilling to put any constraint upon him, left him at his\nliberty, and went a-hunting with his nobles. The king of Tartary\nbeing thus left alone, shut himself up in his apartment, and sat\ndown at a window that looked into the garden. That delicious\nplace, and the sweet harmony of an infinite number of birds,\nwhich chose it for their retreat, must certainly have diverted\nhim, had he been capable of taking pleasure in anything; but\nbeing perpetually tormented with the fatal remembrance of his\nqueen's infamous conduct, his eyes were not so much fixed upon\nthe garden, as lifted up to heaven to bewail his misfortune.\n\nWhile he was thus absorbed in grief, a circumstance occurred\nwhich attracted the whole of his attention. A secret gate of the\nsultan's palace suddenly opened, and there came out of it twenty\nwomen, in the midst of whom walked the sultaness, who was easily\ndistinguished from the rest by her majestic air. This princess\nthinking that the king of Tartary was gone a-hunting with his\nbrother the sultan, came with her retinue near the windows of his\napartment. For the prince had so placed himself that he could see\nall that passed in the garden without being perceived himself. He\nobserved, that the persons who accompanied the sultaness threw\noff their veils and long robes, that they might be more at their\nease, but he was greatly surprised to find that ten of them were\nblack men, and that each of these took his mistress. The\nsultaness, on her part, was not long without her gallant. She\nclapped her hands, and called \"Masoud, Masoud,\" and immediately a\nblack descended from a tree, and ran towards her with great\nspeed.\n\nModesty will not allow, nor is it necessary, to relate what\npassed between the blacks and the ladies. It is sufficient to\nsay, that Shaw-zummaun saw enough to convince him, that his\nbrother was as much to be pitied as himself. This amorous company\ncontinued together till midnight, and having bathed together in a\ngreat piece of water, which was one of the chief ornaments of the\ngarden, they dressed themselves, and re-entered the palace by the\nsecret door, all except Masoud, who climbed up his tree, and got\nover the garden wall as he had come in.\n\nThese things having passed in the king of Tartary's sight, filled\nhim with a multitude of reflections. \"How little reason had I,\"\nsaid he, \"to think that none was so unfortunate as myself? It is\nsurely the unavoidable fate of all husbands, since even the\nsultan my brother, who is sovereign of so-many dominions, and the\ngreatest prince of the earth, could not escape. Such being the\ncase, what a fool am I to kill myself with grief? I am resolved\nthat the remembrance of a misfortune so common shall never more\ndisturb my peace.\"\n\nFrom that moment he forbore afflicting himself. He called for his\nsupper, ate with a better appetite than he had done since his\nleaving Samarcand, and listened with some degree of pleasure to\nthe agreeable concert of vocal and instrumental music that was\nappointed to entertain him while at table.\n\nHe continued after this very cheerful; and when he was informed\nthat the sultan was returning, went to meet him, and paid him his\ncompliments with great gaiety. Shier-ear at first took no notice\nof this alteration. He politely expostulated with him for not\nbearing him company, and without giving him time to reply,\nentertained him with an account of the great number of deer and\nother game they had killed, and the pleasure he had received in\nthe chase. Shaw-zummaun heard him with attention; and being now\nrelieved from the melancholy which had before depressed his\nspirits, and clouded his talents, took up the conversation in his\nturn, and spoke a thousand agreeable and pleasant things to the\nsultan.\n\nShier-ear, who expected to have found him in the same state as he\nhad left him, was overjoyed to see him so cheerful: \"Dear\nbrother,\" said he, \"I return thanks to heaven for the happy\nchange it has wrought in you during my absence. I am indeed\nextremely rejoiced. But I have a request to make to you, and\nconjure you not to deny me.\" \"I can refuse you nothing,\" replied\nthe king of Tartary; \"you may command Shaw-zummaun as you please:\nspeak, I am impatient to know what you desire of me.\" \"Ever since\nyou came to my court,\" resumed Shier-ear, \"I have found you\nimmersed in a deep melancholy, and I have in vain attempted to\nremove it by different diversions. I imagined it might be\noccasioned by your distance from your dominions, or that love\nmight have a great share in it; and that the queen of Samarcand,\nwho, no doubt, is an accomplished beauty, might be the cause. I\ndo not know whether I am mistaken in my conjecture; but I must\nown, that it was for this very reason I would not importune you\nupon the subject, for fear of making you uneasy. But without\nmyself contributing anything towards effecting the change, I find\non my return that your mind is entirely delivered from the black\nvapour which disturbed it. Pray do me the favour to tell me why\nyou were so melancholy, and wherefore you are no longer so.\"\n\nThe king of Tartary continued for some time as if he had been\nmeditating and contriving what he should answer; but at last replied,\n\"You are my sultan and master; but excuse me, I beseech you, from\nanswering your question.\" \"No, dear brother,\" said the sultan, \"you\nmust answer me, I will take no denial.\" Shaw-zummaun, not being able\nto withstand these pressing entreaties, replied, \"Well then, brother,\nI will satisfy you, since you command me;\" and having told him the\nstory of the queen of Samarcand's treachery \"This,\" said he, \"was the\ncause of my grief; judge whether I had not sufficient reason for my\ndepression.\"\n\n\"O! my brother,\" said the sultan, (in a tone which shewed what\ninterest he took in the king of Tartary's affliction), \"what a\nhorrible event do you tell me! I commend you for punishing the\ntraitors who offered you such an outrage. None can blame you for\nwhat you have done. It was just; and for my part, had the case\nbeen mine, I should scarcely have been so moderate. I could not\nhave satisfied myself with the life of one woman; I should have\nsacrificed a thousand to my fury. I now cease to wonder at your\nmelancholy. The cause was too afflicting and too mortifying not\nto overwhelm you. O heaven! what a strange adventure! Nor do I\nbelieve the like ever befell any man but yourself. But I must\nbless God, who has comforted you; and since I doubt not but your\nconsolation is well-grounded, be so good as to inform me what it\nis, and conceal nothing from me.\" Shaw-zummaun was not so easily\nprevailed upon in this point as he had been in the other, on his\nbrother's account. But being obliged to yield to his pressing\ninstances, answered, \"I must obey you then, since your command is\nabsolute, yet I am afraid that my obedience will occasion your\ntrouble to be greater than my own. But you must blame yourself,\nsince you force me to reveal what I should otherwise have buried\nin eternal Oblivion.\" \"What you say,\" answered Shier-ear, \"serves\nonly to increase my curiosity. Discover the secret, whatever it\nbe.\" The king of Tartary being no longer able to refuse, related\nto him the particulars of the blacks in disguise, of the\nungoverned passion of the sultaness, and her ladies; nor did he\nforget Masoud. After having been witness to these infamous\nactions, he continued, \"I believed all women to be naturally\nlewd; and that they could not resist their inclination. Being of\nthis opinion, it seemed to me to be in men an unaccountable\nweakness to place any confidence in their fidelity. This\nreflection brought on many others; and in short, I thought the\nbest thing I could do was to make myself easy. It cost me some\npains indeed, but at last I grew reconciled; and if you will take\nmy advice, you will follow my example.\"\n\nThough the advice was good, the sultan could not approve of it, but\nfell into a rage. \"What!\" said he, \"is the sultaness of the Indies\ncapable of prostituting herself in so base a manner! No, brother, I\ncannot believe what you state unless I beheld it with my own eyes.\nYours must needs have deceived you; the matter is so important that I\nmust be satisfied of it myself.\" \"Dear brother,\" answered\nShaw-zummaun, \"that you may without much difficulty. Appoint another\nhunting-match, and when we are out of town with your court and mine,\nwe will rest under our tents, and at night let you and I return\nunattended to my apartments. I am certain the next day you will see a\nrepetition of the scene.\" The sultan approving the stratagem,\nimmediately appointed another hunting-match. And that same day the\ntents were pitched at the place appointed.\n\nThe next day the two princes set out with all their retinue; they\narrived at the place of encampment, and stayed there till night.\nShier-ear then called his grand vizier, and, without acquainting\nhim with his design, commanded him during his absence to suffer\nno person to quit the camp on any presence whatever. As soon as\nhe had given this order, the king of Grand Tartary and he took\nhorse, passed through the camp incognito, returned to the city,\nand went to Shaw-zummaun's apartment. They had scarcely placed\nthemselves in the window whence the king of Tartary had beheld\nthe scene of the disguised blacks, when the secret gate opened,\nthe sultaness and her ladies entered the garden with the blacks,\nand she having called to Masoud, the sultan saw more than enough\nfully to convince him of his dishonour and misfortune.\n\n\"Oh heavens!\" he exclaimed, \"what indignity! What horror! Can the\nwife of a sovereign be capable of such infamous conduct? After\nthis, let no prince boast of being perfectly happy. Alas! my\nbrother,\" continued he, embracing the king of Tartery, \"let us\nboth renounce the world, honour is banished out of it; if it\nflatter us one day, it betrays us the next. Let us abandon our\ndominions, and go into foreign countries, where we may lead an\nobscure life, and conceal our misfortunes.\" Shaw-zummaun did not\nat all approve of this plan, but did not think fit to contradict\nShierear in the heat of his passion. \"Dear brother,\" he replied,\n\"your will shall be mine. I am ready to follow you whithersoever\nyou please: but promise me that you will return, if we meet with\nany one more unhappy than ourselves.\" \"To this I agree,\" said the\nsultan, \"but doubt much whether we shall.\" \"I am not of your\nopinion in this,\" replied the king of Tartary; \"I fancy our\njourney will be but short.\" Having thus resolved, they went\nsecretly out of the palace. They travelled as long as day-light\ncontinued; and lay the first night under trees. They arose about\nbreak of day, went on till they came to a fine meadow on the\nseashore, that was be-sprinkled with large trees They sat down\nunder one of them to rest and refresh themselves, and the chief\nsubject of their conversation was the infidelity or their wives.\n\nThey had not rested long, before they heard a frightful noise\nfrom the sea, and a terrible cry, which filled them with fear.\nThe sea then opened, and there arose something like a great black\ncolumn, which reached almost to the clouds. This redoubled their\nterror, made them rise with haste, and climb up into a tree to\nbide themselves. They had scarcely got up, when looking to the\nplace from whence the noise proceeded, and where the sea had\nopened, they observed that the black column advanced, winding\nabout towards the shore, cleaving the water before it. They\ncould not at first think what this could mean, but in a little\ntime they found that it was one of those malignant genies that\nare mortal enemies to mankind, and are always doing them\nmischief. He was black and frightful, had the shape of a giant,\nof a prodigious stature, and carried on his head a large glass\nbox, fastened with four locks of fine steel. He entered the\nmeadow with his burden, which he laid down just at the foot of\nthe tree where the two princes were concealed, who gave\nthemselves over as lost. The genie sat down by his box, and\nopening it with four keys that he had at his girdle, there came\nout a lady magnificently appareled, of a majestic stature, and\nperfect beauty. The monster made her sit down by him, and eyeing\nher with an amorous look, said, \"Lady, nay, most accomplished of\nall ladies who are admired for their beauty, my charming\nmistress, whom I carried off on your wedding-day, and have loved\nso constantly ever since, let me sleep a few moments by you; for\nI found myself so very drowsy that I came to this place to take a\nlittle rest.\" Having spoken thus, he laid down his huge head upon\nthe lady's knees, and stretching out his legs, which reached as\nfar as the sea, he fell asleep presently, and snored so loud that\nhe made the shores echo.\n\nThe lady happening at this time to look up, saw the two princes\nin the tree, and made a sign to them with her hand to come down\nwithout making any noise. Their fear was extreme when they found\nthemselves discovered, and they prayed the lady, by other signs,\nto excuse them. But she, after having laid the monster's head\nsoftly on the ground, rose up and spoke to them, with a low but\neager voice, to come down to her; she would take no denial. They\ninformed her by signs that they were afraid of the genie, and\nwould fain have been excused. Upon which she ordered them to come\ndown, and threatened if they did not make haste, to awaken the\ngenie, and cause him to put them to death.\n\nThese words so much intimidated the princes, that they began to\ndescend with all possible precaution lest they should awake the\ngenie. When they had come down, the lady took them by the hand,\nand going a little farther with them under the trees, made them a\nvery urgent proposal. At first they rejected it, but she obliged\nthem to comply by her threats. Having obtained what she desired,\nshe perceived that each of them had a ring on his finger, which\nshe demanded. As soon as she had received them, she pulled out a\nstring of other rings, which she shewed the princes, and asked\nthem if they knew what those jewels meant? \"No,\" said they, \"we\nhope you will be pleased to inform us.\" \"These are,\" she replied,\n\"the rings of all the men to whom I have granted my favours.\nThere are fourscore and eighteen, which I keep as memorials of\nthem; and I asked for yours to make up the hundred. So that I\nhave had a hundred gallants already, notwithstanding the\nvigilance of this wicked genie, who never leaves me. He may lock\nme up in this glass box and hide me in the bottom of the sea; but\nI find methods to elude his vigilance. You may see by this, that\nwhen a woman has formed a project, there is no husband or lover\nthat can prevent her from putting it in execution. Men had better\nnot put their wives under such restraint, as it only serves to\nteach them cunning.\" Having spoken thus to them, she put their\nrings on the same string with the rest, and sitting down by the\nmonster, as before, laid his head again upon her lap, end made a\nsign to the princes to depart.\n\nThey returned immediately the way they had come, and when they\nwere out of sight of the lady and the genie Shier-ear said to\nShaw-zummaun \"Well, brother, what do you think of this adventure?\nHas not the genie a very faithful mistress? And do you not agree\nthat there is no wickedness equal to that of women?\" \"Yes,\nbrother,\" answered the king of Great Tartary; \"and you must also\nagree that the monster is more unfortunate, and more to be pitied\nthan ourselves. Therefore, since we have found what we sought\nfor, let us return to our dominions, and let not this hinder us\nfrom marrying. For my part, I know a method by which to preserve\nthe fidelity of my wife inviolable. I will say no more at\npresent, but you will hear of it in a little time, and I am sure\nyou will follow my example.\" The sultan agreed with his brother;\nand continuing their journey, they arrived in the camp the third\nnight after their departure.\n\nThe news of the sultan's return being spread, the courtiers came\nbetimes in the morning before his pavilion to wait his pleasure.\nHe ordered them to enter, received them with a more pleasant air\nthan he had formerly done, and gave each of them a present. After\nwhich, he told them he would go no farther, ordered them to take\nhorse, and returned with expedition to his palace.\n\nAs soon as he arrived, he proceeded to the sultaness's apartment,\ncommanded her to be bound before him, and delivered her to his\ngrand vizier, with an order to strangle her, which was\naccordingly executed by that minister, without inquiring into her\ncrime. The enraged prince did not stop here, but cut off the\nheads of all the sultaness's ladies with his own hand. After this\nrigorous punishment, being persuaded that no woman was chaste, he\nresolved, in order to prevent the disloyalty of such as he should\nafterwards marry, to wed one every night, and have her strangled\nnext morning. Having imposed this cruel law upon himself, he\nswore that he would put it in force immediately after the\ndeparture of the king of Tartary, who shortly took leave of him,\nand being laden with magnificent presents, set forward on his\njourney.\n\nShaw-zummaun having departed, Shier-ear ordered his grand vizier\nto bring him the daughter of one of his generals. The vizier\nobeyed. The sultan lay with her, and putting her next morning\ninto his hands again in order to have her strangled, commanded\nhim to provide him another the next night. Whatever reluctance\nthe vizier might feel to put such orders in execution, as he owed\nblind obedience to the sultan his master, he was forced to\nsubmit. He brought him then the daughter of a subaltern, whom he\nalso put to death the next day. After her he brought a citizen's\ndaughter; and, in a word, there was every day a maid married, and\na wife murdered.\n\nThe rumour of this unparalleled barbarity occasioned a general\nconsternation in the city, where there was nothing but crying and\nlamentation. Here, a father in tears, and inconsolable for the\nloss of his daughter; and there, tender mothers dreating lest\ntheir daughters should share the same fate, filling the air with\ncries of distress and apprehension. So that, instead of the\ncommendation and blessings which the sultan had hitherto received\nfrom his subjects, their mouths were now filled with\nimprecations.\n\nThe grand vizier who, as has been already observed, was the\nunwilling executioner of this horrid course of injustice, had two\ndaughters, the elder called Scheherazade, and the younger\nDinarzade. The latter was highly accomplished; but the former\npossessed courage, wit, and penetration, infinitely above her\nsex. She had read much, and had so admirable a memory, that she\nnever forgot any thing she had read. She had successfully applied\nherself to philosophy, medicine, history, and the liberal arts;\nand her poetry excelled the compositions of the best writers of\nher time. Besides this, she was a perfect beauty, and all her\naccomplishments were crowned by solid virtue.\n\nThe vizier loved this daughter, so worthy of his affection. One\nday, as they were conversing together, she said to him, \"Father,\nI have one favour to beg of you, and most humbly pray you to\ngrant it.\" \"I will not refuse,\" answered he, \"provided it be just\nand reasonable.\" \"For the justice of it,\" resumed she, \"there can\nbe no question, and you may judge of this by the motive which\nobliges me to make the request. I wish to stop that barbarity\nwhich the sultan exercises upon the families of this city. I\nwould dispel those painful apprehensions which so many mothers\nfeel of losing their daughters in such a fatal manner.\" \"Your\ndesign, daughter,\" replied the vizier \"is very commendable; but\nthe evil you would remedy seems to me incurable. How do you\npropose to effect your purpose?\" \"Father,\" said Scheherazade,\n\"since by your means the sultan makes every day a new marriage, I\nconjure you, by the tender affection you bear me, to procure me\nthe honour of his bed.\" The vizier could not hear this without\nhorror. \"O heaven!\" he replied in a passion, \"have you lost your\nsenses, daughter, that you make such a dangerous request? You\nknow the sultan has sworn, that he will never lie above one night\nwith the same woman, and to command her to be killed the next\nmorning; would you then have me propose you to him? Consider well\nto what your indiscreet zeal will expose you.\" \"Yes, dear\nfather,\" replied the virtuous daughter, \"I know the risk I run;\nbut that does not alarm me. If I perish, my death will be\nglorious; and if I succeed, I shall do my country an important\nservice.\" \"No, no,\" said the vizier \"whatever you may offer to\ninduce me to let you throw yourself into such imminent danger, do\nnot imagine that I will ever consent. When the sultan shall\ncommand me to strike my poniard into your heart, alas! I must\nobey; and what an employment will that be for a father! Ah! if\nyou do not dread death, at least cherish some fears of afflicting\nme with the mortal grief of imbuing my hands in your blood.\"\n\"Once more father,\" replied Scheherazade, \"grant me the favour I\nsolicit.\" \"Your stubbornness,\" resumed the vizier \"will rouse my\nanger; why will you run headlong to your ruin? They who do not\nforesee the end of a dangerous enterprise can never conduct it to\na happy issue. I am afraid the same thing will happen to you as\nbefell the ass, which was well off, but could not remain so.\"\n\"What misfortune befell the ass?\" demanded Scheherazade. \"I will\ntell you,\" replied the vizier, \"if you will hear me.\"\n\n\n\n\n               The Ass, the Ox, and the Labourer.\n\n\n\nA very wealthy merchant possessed several country-houses, where\nhe kept a large number of cattle of every kind. He retired with\nhis wife and family to one of these estates, in order to improve\nit under his own direction. He had the gift of understanding the\nlanguage of beasts, but with this condition, that he should not,\non pain of death, interpret it to any one else. And this hindered\nhim from communicating to others what he learned by means of this\nfaculty.\n\nHe kept in the same stall an ox and an ass. One day as he sat\nnear them, and was amusing himself in looking at his children who\nwere playing about him, he heard the ox say to the ass,\n\"Sprightly, O! how happy do I think you, when I consider the ease\nyou enjoy, and the little labour that is required of you. You are\ncarefully rubbed down and washed, you have well-dressed corn, and\nfresh clean water. Your greatest business is to carry the\nmerchant, our master, when he has any little journey to make, and\nwere it not for that you would be perfectly idle. I am treated in\na very different manner, and my condition is as deplorable as\nyours is fortunate. Daylight no sooner appears than I am fastened\nto a plough, and made to work till night, which so fatigues me,\nthat sometimes my strength entirely fails. Besides, the labourer,\nwho is always behind me, beats me continually. By drawing the\nplough, my tail is all flayed; and in short, after having\nlaboured from morning to night, when I am brought in they give me\nnothing to eat but sorry dry beans, not so much as cleansed from\ndirt, or other food equally bad; and to heighten my misery, when\nI have filled my belly with such ordinary stuff, I am forced to\nlie all night in my own dung: so that you see I have reason to\nenvy your lot.\"\n\nThe ass did not interrupt the ox; but when he had concluded,\nanswered, \"They that called you a foolish beast did not lie. You\nare too simple; you suffer them to conduct you whither they\nplease, and shew no manner of resolution. In the mean time, what\nadvantage do you reap from all the indignities you suffer. You\nkill yourself for the ease, pleasure, and profit of those who\ngive you no thanks for your service. But they would not treat you\nso, if you had as much courage as strength. When they come to\nfasten you to the stall, why do you not resist? why do you not\ngore them with your horns, and shew that you are angry, by\nstriking your foot against the ground? And, in short, why do not\nyou frighten them by bellowing aloud? Nature has furnished you\nwith means to command respect; but you do not use them. They\nbring you sorry beans and bad straw; eat none of them, only smell\nand then leave them. If you follow my advice, you will soon\nexperience a change, for which you will thank me.\"\n\nThe ox took the ass's advice in very good part, and owned he was\nmuch obliged to him. \"Dear Sprightly,\" added he, \"I will not fail\nto do as you direct, and you shall see how I will acquit myself.\"\nHere ended their conversation, of which the merchant lost not a\nword.\n\nEarly the next morning the labourer went for the ox. He fastened\nhim to the plough and conducted him to his usual work. The ox,\nwho had not forgotten the ass's counsel, was very troublesome and\nuntowardly all that day, and in the evening, when the labourer\nbrought him back to the stall, and began to fasten him, the\nmalicious beast instead of presenting his head willingly as he\nused to do, was restive, and drew back bellowing; and then made\nat the labourer, as if he would have gored him with his horns. In\na word, he did all that the ass had advised him. The day\nfollowing, the labourer came as usual, to take the ox to his\nlabour; but finding the stall full of beans, the straw that he\nhad put in the night before not touched, and the ox lying on the\nground with his legs stretched out, and panting in a strange\nmanner, he believed him to be unwell, pitied him, and thinking\nthat it was not proper to take him to work, went immediately and\nacquainted his master with his condition. The merchant perceiving\nthat the ox had followed all the mischievous advice of the ass,\ndetermined to punish the latter, and accordingly ordered the\nlabourer to go and put him in the ox's place, and to be sure to\nwork him hard. The labourer did as he was desired. The ass was\nforced to draw the plough all that day, which fatigued him so\nmuch the more, as he was not accustomed to that kind of labour;\nbesides he had been so soundly beaten, that he could scarcely\nstand when he came back.\n\nMeanwhile, the ox was mightily pleased; he ate up all that was in\nhis stall, and rested himself the whole day. He rejoiced that he\nhad followed the ass's advice, blessed him a thousand times for\nthe kindness he had done him, and did not fail to express his\nobligations when the ass had returned. The ass made no reply, so\nvexed was he at the ill treatment he had received; but he said\nwithin himself, \"It is by my own imprudence I have brought this\nmisfortune upon myself. I lived happily, every thing smiled upon\nme; I had all that I could wish; it is my own fault that I am\nbrought to this miserable condition; and if I cannot contrive\nsome way to get out of it, I am certainly undone.\" As he spoke,\nhis strength was so much exhausted that he fell down in his\nstall, as if he had been half dead.\n\nHere the grand vizier, himself to Scheherazade, and said,\n\"Daughter, you act just like this ass; you will expose yourself\nto destruction by your erroneous policy. Take my advice, remain\nquiet, and do not seek to hasten your death.\" \"Father,\" replied\nScheherazade, \"the example you have set before me will not induce\nme to change my resolution. I will never cease importuning you\nuntil you present me to the sultan as his bride.\" The vizier,\nperceiving that she persisted in her demand, replied, \"Alas!\nthen, since you will continue obstinate, I shall be obliged to\ntreat you in the same manner as the merchant whom I before\nreferred to treated his wife a short time after.\"\n\nThe merchant understanding that the ass was in a lamentable\ncondition, was desirous of knowing what passed between him and\nthe ox, therefore after supper he went out by moonlight, and sat\ndown by them, his wife bearing him company. After his arrival, he\nheard the ass say to the ox \"Comrade, tell me, I pray you, what\nyou intend to do to-morrow, when the labourer brings you meat?\"\n\"What will I do?\" replied the ox, \"I will continue to act as you\ntaught me. I will draw back from him and threaten him with my\nhorns, as I did yesterday: I will feign myself ill, and at the\npoint of death.\" \"Beware of that,\" replied the ass, \"it will ruin\nyou; for as I came home this evening, I heard the merchant, our\nmaster, say something that makes me tremble for you.\" \"Alas! what\ndid you hear?\" demanded the ox; \"as you love me, withhold nothing\nfrom me, my dear Sprightly.\" \"Our master,\" replied the ass,\n\"addressed himself thus to the labourer: Since the ox does not\neat, and is not able to work, I would have him killed to-morrow,\nand we will give his flesh as an alms to the poor for God's sake,\nas for the skin, that will be of use to us, and I would have you\ngive it the currier to dress; therefore be sure to send for the\nbutcher.' This is what I had to tell you,\" said the ass. \"The\ninterest I feel in your preservation, and my friendship for you,\nobliged me to make it known to you, and to give you new advice.\nAs soon as they bring you your bran and straw, rise up and eat\nheartily. Our master will by this think that you are recovered,\nand no doubt will recall his orders for killing you; but, if you\nact otherwise, you will certainly be slaughtered.\"\n\nThis discourse had the effect which the ass designed. The ox was\ngreatly alarmed, and bellowed for fear. The merchant, who heard\nthe conversation very attentively, fell into a loud fit of\nlaughter. His wife was greatly surprised, and asked, \"Pray,\nhusband, tell me what you laugh at so heartily, that I may laugh\nwith you.\" \"Wife,\" replied he, \"you must content yourself with\nhearing me laugh.\" \"No,\" returned she, \"I will know the reason.\"\n\"I cannot afford you that satisfaction,\" he, \"and can only inform\nyou that I laugh at what our ass just now said to the ox. The\nrest is a secret, which I am not allowed to reveal.\" \"What,\"\ndemanded she \"hinders you from revealing the secret?\" \"If I tell\nit you,\" replied he, \"I shall forfeit my life.\" \"You only jeer\nme,\" cried his wife, \"what you would have me believe cannot be\ntrue. If you do not directly satisfy me as to what you laugh at,\nand tell me what the ox and the ass said to one another, I swear\nby heaven that you and I shall never bed together again.\"\n\nHaving spoken thus, she went into the house, and seating herself\nin a corner, cried there all night. Her husband lay alone, and\nfinding next morning that she continued in the same humour, told\nher, she was very foolish to afflict herself in that manner; that\nthe thing was not worth so much; that it concerned her very\nlittle to know while it was of the utmost consequence to him to\nkeep the secret: \"therefore,\" continued he, \"I conjure you to\nthink no more of it.\" \"I shall still think so much of it,\"\nreplied she, \"as never to forbear weeping till you have satisfied\nmy curiosity.\" \"But I tell you very seriously,\" answered he,\n\"that it will cost me my life if I yield to your indiscreet\nsolicitations.\" \"Let what will happen,\" said she, \"I do insist\nupon it.\" \"I perceive,\" resumed the merchant, \"that it is\nimpossible to bring you to reason, and since I foresee that you\nwill occasion your own death by your obstinacy, I will call in\nyour children, that they may see you before you die.\" Accordingly\nhe called for them, and sent for her father and mother, and other\nrelations. When they were come and had heard the reason of their\nbeing summoned, they did all they could to convince her that she\nwas in the wrong, but to no purpose: she told them she would\nrather die than yield that point to her husband. Her father and\nmother spoke to her by herself, and told her that what she\ndesired to know was of no importance to her; but they could\nproduce no effect upon her, either by their authority or\nintreaties. When her children saw that nothing would prevail to\ndraw her out of that sullen temper, they wept bitterly. The\nmerchant himself was half frantic, and almost ready to risk his\nown life to save that of his wife, whom he sincerely loved.\n\nThe merchant had fifty hens and one cock, with a dog that gave\ngood heed to all that passed. While the merchant was considering\nwhat he had best do, he saw his dog run towards the cock as he\nwas treading a hen, and heard him say to him: \"Cock, I am sure\nheaven will not let you live long; are you not ashamed to ad thus\nto-day?\" The cock standing up on tiptoe, answered fiercely: \"And\nwhy not to-day as well as other days?\" \"If you do not know,\"\nreplied the dog, \"then I will tell you, that this day our master\nis in great perplexity. His wife would have him reveal a secret\nwhich is of such a nature, that the disclosure would cost him his\nlife. Things are come to that pass, that it is to be feared he\nwill scarcely have resolution enough to resist his wife's\nobstinacy; for he loves her, and is affected by the tears she\ncontinually sheds. We are all alarmed at his situation, while you\nonly insult our melancholy, and have the impudence to divert\nyourself with your hens.\"\n\nThe cock answered the dog's reproof thus: \"What, has our master\nso little sense? he has but one wife, and cannot govern her, and\nthough I have fifty, I make them all do what I please. Let him\nuse his reason, he will soon find a way to rid himself of his\ntrouble.\" \"How?\" demanded the dog; \"what would you have him do?\"\n\"Let him go into the room where his wife is,\" resumed the cock,\n\"lock the door, and take a stick and thrash her well; and I will\nanswer for it, that will bring her to her senses, and make her\nforbear to importune him to discover what he ought not to\nreveal.\" The merchant had no sooner heard what the cock said,\nthan he took up a stick, went to his wife, whom he found still\ncrying, and shutting the door, belaboured her so soundly, that\nshe cried out, \"Enough, husband, enough, forbear, and I will\nnever ask the question more.\" Upon this, perceiving that she\nrepented of her impertinent curiosity, he desisted; and opening\nthe door, her friends came in, were glad to find her cured of her\nobstinacy, and complimented her husband upon this happy expedient\nto bring his wife to reason.\n\n\"Daughter,\" added the grand vizier, \"you deserve to be treated as\nthe merchant treated his wife.\"\n\n\"Father,\" replied Scheherazade, \"I beg you would not take it ill\nthat I persist in my opinion. I am nothing moved by the story of\nthis woman. I could relate many, to persuade you that you ought\nnot to oppose my design. Besides, pardon me for declaring, that\nyour opposition is vain; for if your paternal affection should\nhinder you from granting my request, I will go and offer myself\nto the sultan.\" In short, the father, being overcome by the\nresolution of his daughter, yielded to her importunity, and\nthough he was much grieved that he could not divert her from so\nfatal a resolution, he went instantly to acquaint the sultan,\nthat next night he would bring him Scheherazade.\n\nThe sultan was much surprized at the sacrifice which the grand\nvizier proposed to make. \"How could you\", said he, \"resolve to\nbring me your own daughter?\" \"Sir,\" answered the vizier, \"it is\nher own offer. The sad destiny that awaits her could not\nintimidate her; she prefers the honour of being your majesty's\nwile for one night, to her life.\" \"But do not act under a\nmistake, vizier,\" said the sultan; \"to-morrow when I place\nScheherazade in your hands, I expect you will put her to death;\nand if you fail, I swear that your own life shall answer.\" \"Sir,\"\nrejoined the vizier \"my heart without doubt will be full of grief\nto execute your commands; but it is to no purpose for nature to\nmurmur. Though I am her father, I will answer for the fidelity of\nmy hand to obey your order.\" Shier-ear accepted his minister's\noffer, and told him he might bring his daughter when he pleased.\n\nThe grand vizier went with the intelligence to Schcherazade, who\nreceived it with as much joy as if it had been the most agreeable\ninformation she could have received. She thanked her father for\nhaving so greatly obliged her; and perceiving that he was\noverwhelmed with grief, told him for his consolation, that she\nhoped he would never repent of having married her to the sultan;\nand that, on the contrary, he should have reason to rejoice at\nhis compliance all his days.\n\nHer business now was to adorn herself to appear before the sultan; but\nbefore she went, she took her sister Dinarzade apart, and said to her,\n\"My dear sister, I have need of your assistance in a matter of great\nimportance, and must pray you not to deny it me. My father is going to\nconduct me to the sultan; do not let this alarm you, but hear me with\npatience. As soon as I am in his presence, I will pray him to allow\nyou to lie in the bride-chamber, that I may enjoy your company this\none night more. If I obtain that favour, as I hope to do, remember to\nawake me to-morrow an hour before day, and to address me in these or\nsome such words: 'My sister, if you be not asleep, I pray you that\ntill day-break, which will be very shortly, you will relate to me one\nof the entertaining stories of which you have read so many.' I will\nimmediately tell you one; and I hope by this means to deliver the city\nfrom the consternation it is under at present.\" Dinarzade answered\nthat she would with pleasure act as she required her.\n\nThe grand vizier conducted Schcherazade to the palace, and\nretired, after having introduced her into the sultan's apartment.\nAs soon as the sultan was left alone with her, he ordered her to\nuncover her face: he found her so beautiful that he was perfectly\ncharmed; but perceiving her to be in tears, demanded the reason.\n\"Sir,\" answered Scheherazade, \"I have a sister who loves me\ntenderly, and I could wish that she might be allowed to pass the\nnight in this chamber, that I might see her, and once more bid\nher adieu. Will you be pleased to allow me the consolation of\ngiving her this last testimony of my affection?\" Shier-ear having\nconsented, Dinarzade was sent for, who came with all possible\nexpedition.\n\nAn hour before day, Dinarzade failed not to do as her sister had\nordered. \"My dear sister,\" cried she, \"if you be not asleep, I\npray that until daybreak, which will be very shortly, you will\ntell me one of those pleasant stories you have read. Alas! this\nmay perhaps be the last time that I shall enjoy that pleasure.\"\n\nScheherazade, instead of answering her sister, addressed herself\nto the sultan: \"Sir, will your majesty be pleased to allow me to\nafford my sister this satisfaction?\" \"With all my heart,\" replied\nthe sultan. Scheherazade then bade her sister attend, and\nafterwards, addressing herself to Shier-ear, proceeded as\nfollows.\n\n\n\n\n                  THE MERCHANT AND THE GENIE.\n\n\n\nThere was formerly a merchant who possessed much property in\nlands, goods, and money, and had a great number of clerks,\nfactors, and slaves. He was obliged from time to time to visit\nhis correspondents on business; and one day being under the\nnecessity of going a long journey on an affair of importance, he\ntook horse, and carried with him a wallet containing biscuits and\ndates, because he had a great desert to pass over, where he could\nprocure no sort of provisions. He arrived without any accident at\nthe end of his journey; and having dispatched his affairs, took\nhorse again, in order to return home.\n\nThe fourth day of his journey, he was so much incommoded by the\nheat of the sun, and the reflection of that heat from the earth,\nthat he turned out of the road, to refresh himself under some\ntrees. He found at the root of a large tree a fountain of very\nclear running water. Having alighted, he tied his horse to a\nbranch, and sitting down by the fountain, took some biscuits and\ndates out of his wallet. As he ate his dates, he threw the shells\ncarelessly in different directions. When he had finished his\nrepast, being a good Moosulmaun, he washed his hands, face, and\nfeet, and said his prayers. Before he had finished, and while he\nwas yet on his knees, he saw a genie, white with age, and of a\nmonstrous bulk, advancing towards him with a cimeter in his hand.\nThe genie spoke to him in a terrible voice: \"Rise, that I may\nkill thee with this cimeter, as thou hast killed my son;\" and\naccompanied these words with a frightful cry. The merchant being\nas much alarmed at the hideous shape of the monster as at his\nthreatening language, answered him, trembling, \"Alas! my good\nlord, of what crime can I be guilty towards you, that you should\ntake away my life?\" \"I will,\" replied the genie, \"kill thee, as\nthou hast killed my son.\" \"Heavens,\" exclaimed the merchant, \"how\ncould I kill your son? I never knew, never saw him.\" \"Did not you\nsit down when you came hither?\" demanded the genie: \"did you not\ntake dates out of your wallet, and as you ate them, did not you\nthrow the shells about in different directions?\" \"I did all that\nyou say,\" answered the merchant, \"I cannot deny it.\" \"If it be\nso,\" resumed the genie, \"I tell thee that thou hast killed my\nson; and in this manner: When thou wert throwing the shells\nabout, my son was passing by, and thou didst throw one into his\neye, which killed him; therefore I must kill thee.\" \"Ah! my lord!\npardon me!\" cried the merchant. \"No pardon,\" exclaimed the genie,\n\"no mercy. Is it not just to kill him that has killed another?\"\n\"I agree it is,\" replied the merchant, \"but certainly I never\nkilled your son; and if I have, it was unknown to me, and I did\nit innocently; I beg you therefore to pardon me, and suffer me to\nlive.\" \"No, no,\" returned the genie, persisting in his\nresolution, \"I must kill thee, since thou hast killed my son.\"\nThen taking the merchant by the arm, he threw him with his face\non the ground, and lifted up his cimeter to cut off his head.\n\nThe merchant, with tears, protested he was innocent, bewailed his\nwife and children, and supplicated the genie, in the most moving\nexpressions. The genie, with his cimeter still lifted up, had the\npatience to hear his unfortunate victims to the end of his\nlamentations, but would not relent. \"All this whining,\" said the\nmonster, \"is to no purpose; though you should shed tears of\nblood, they should not hinder me from killing thee, as thou hast\nkilled my son.\" \"What!\" exclaimed the merchant, \"can nothing\nprevail with you? Will you absolutely take away the life of a\npoor innocent?\" \"Yes,\" replied the genie, \"I am resolved.\"\n\nAs soon as she had spoken these words, perceiving it was day, and\nknowing that the sultan rose early in the morning to say his\nprayers, and hold his council, Scheherazade discontinued her\nstory. \"Dear sister,\" said Dinarzade, \"what a wonderful story is\nthis!\" \"The remainder of it,\" replied Scheherazade \"is more\nsurprising, and you will be of this opinion, if the sultan will\nbut permit me to live over this day, and allow me to proceed with\nthe relation the ensuing night.\" Shier-ear, who had listened to\nScheherazade with much interest, said to himself, \"I will wait\ntill to-morrow, for I can at any time put her to death when she\nhas concluded her story.\" Having thus resolved not to put\nScheherazade to death that day, he rose and went to his prayers,\nand to attend his council.\n\nDuring this time the grand vizier was in the utmost distress.\nInstead of sleeping, he spent the night in sighs and groans,\nbewailing the lot of his daughter, of whom he believed he should\nhimself shortly be the executioner. As, with this melancholy\nprospect before him, he dreaded to meet the sultan, he was\nagreeably surprised when he found the prince entered the council\nchamber without giving him the fatal orders he expected.\n\nThe sultan, according to his custom, spent the day in regulating\nhis affairs; and when the night had closed in, retired with\nScheherazade. The next morning before day, Dinarzade failed not\nto call to her sister: \"My dear sister, if you be not asleep, I\npray you till day-break, which is very near, to go on with the\nstory you began last night.\" The sultan, without waiting for\nScheherazade to ask his permission, bade her proceed with the\nstory of the genie and the merchant; upon which Scheherazade\ncontinued her relation as follows.  [FN: In the original work\nScheherazade continually breaks off to ask the sultan to spare\nher life for another day, that she may finish the story she is\nrelating.  As these interruptions considerably interfere with the\ncontinued interest of the stories, it has been deemed advisable\nto omit them.]\n\nWhen the merchant saw that the genie was going to cut off his\nhead, he cried out aloud to him, \"For heaven's sake hold your\nhand! Allow me one word. Have the goodness to grant me some\nrespite, to bid my wife and children adieu, and to divide my\nestate among them by will, that they may not go to law after my\ndeath. When I have done this, I will come back and submit to\nwhatever you shall please to command.\" \"But,\" said the genie, \"if\nI grant you the time you ask, I doubt you will never return?\" \"If\nyou will believe my oath,\" answered the merchant, \"I swear by all\nthat is sacred, that I will come and meet you here without fail.\"\n\"What time do you require then?\" demanded the genie. \"I ask a\nyear,\" said the merchant; \"I cannot in less settle my affairs,\nand prepare myself to die without regret. But I promise you, that\nthis day twelve months I will return under these trees, to put\nmyself into your hands.\" \"Do you take heaven to be witness to\nthis promise?\" said the genie. \"I do,\" answered the merchant,\n\"and you may rely on my oath.\" Upon this the genie left him near\nthe fountain, and disappeared.\n\nThe merchant being recovered from his terror, mounted his horse,\nand proceeded on his journey, glad on the one hand that he had\nescaped so great a danger, but grieved on the other, when he\nreflected on his fatal oath. When he reached home, his wife and\nchildren received him with all the demonstrations of perfect joy.\nBut he, instead of returning their caresses, wept so bitterly,\nthat his family apprehended something calamitous had befallen\nhim. His wife enquire reason of his excessive grief and tears;\n\"We are all overjoyed,\" said she, \"at your return; but you alarm\nus by your lamentations; pray tell us the cause of your sorrow.\"\n\"Alas!\" replied the husband, \"I have but a year to live.\" He then\nrelated what had passed betwixt him and the genie, and informed\nher that he had given him his oath to return at the end of the\nyear, to receive death from his hands.\n\nWhen they heard this afflicting intelligence, they all began to\nlament in the most distressing manner. His wife uttered the most\npiteous cries, beat her face, and tore her hair. The children,\nall in tears, made the house resound with their groans; and the\nfather, not being able to resist the impulse of nature, mingled\nhis tears with theirs: so that, in a word, they exhibited the\nmost affecting spectacle possible.\n\nOn the following morning the merchant applied himself to put his\naffairs in order; and first of all to pay his debts. He made\npresents to his friends, gave liberal alms to the poor, set his\nslaves of both sexes at liberty, divided his property among his\nchildren, appointed guardians for such of them as were not of\nage; and after restoring to his wife all that was due to her by\ntheir marriage contract, he gave her in addition as much as the\nlaw would allow him.\n\nAt last the year expired, and he was obliged to depart. He put\nhis burial clothes in his wallet; but when he came to bid his\nwife and children adieu, their grief surpassed description. They\ncould not reconcile their minds to the separation, but resolved\nto go and die with him. When, however, it became necessary for\nhim to tear himself from these dear objects, he addressed them in\nthe following terms: \"My dear wife and children, I obey the will\nof heaven in quitting you. Follow my example, submit with\nfortitude to this necessity, and consider that it is the destiny\nof man to die.\" Having thus spoken, he went out of the hearing of\nthe cries of his family; and pursuing his journey, arrived on the\nday appointed at the place where he had promised to meet the\ngenie. He alighted, and seating himself down by the fountain,\nwaited the coming of the genie, with all the sorrow imaginable.\nWhilst he languished under this painful expectation, an old man\nleading a hind appeared and drew near him. After they had saluted\none another, the old man said to him, \"Brother, may I ask why you\nare come into this desert place, which is possessed solely by\nevil spirits, and where consequently you cannot be safe? From the\nbeautiful trees which are seen here, one might indeed suppose the\nplace inhabited; but it is in reality a wilderness, where it is\ndangerous to remain long.\"\n\nThe merchant satisfied his curiosity, and related to him the\nadventure which obliged him to be there. The old man listened\nwith astonishment, and when he had done, exclaimed, \"This is the\nmost surprising thing in the world! and you are bound by the most\ninviolable oath. However, I will be witness of your interview\nwith the genie.\" He then seated himself by the merchant, and they\nentered into conversation.\n\n\"But I see day,\" said Scheherazade, \"and must leave off; yet the\nbest of the story is to come.\" The sultan resolving to hear the\nend of it, suffered her to live that day also.\n\nThe next morning Dinarzade made the same request to her sister as\nbefore: \"My dear sister,\" said she, \"if you be not asleep, tell\nme one of those pleasant stories that you have read.\" But the\nsultan, wishing to learn what followed betwixt the merchant and\nthe genie, bade her proceed with that, which she did as follows.\n\nSir, while the merchant and the old man who led the hind were\nconversing, they saw another old man coming towards them,\nfollowed by two black dogs; after they had saluted one another,\nhe asked them what they did in that place? The old man with the\nhind told him the adventure of the merchant and genie, with all\nthat had passed between them, particularly the merchant's oath.\nHe added, that it was the day agreed on, and that he was resolved\nto stay and see the issue.\n\nThe second old man thinking it also worth his curiosity, resolved\nto do the same, and took his seat by them. They had scarcely\nbegun to converse together, when there arrived a third old man\nleading a mule. He addressed himself to the two former, and asked\nwhy the merchant who sat with them looked so melancholy? They\ntold him the reason, which appeared to him so extraordinary, that\nhe also resolved to witness the result; and for that purpose sat\ndown with them.\n\nIn a short time they perceived a thick vapour, like a cloud of\ndust raised by a whirlwind, advancing towards them. When it had\ncome up to them it suddenly vanished, and the genie appeared;\nwho, without saluting them, went to the merchant with a drawn\ncimeter, and taking him by the arm, said, \"Get thee up, that I\nmay kill thee, as thou didst my son.\" The merchant and the three\nold men began to lament and fill the air with their cries.\n\nWhen the old man who led the hind saw the genie lay hold of the\nmerchant, and about to kill him, he threw himself at the feet of\nthe monster, and kissing them, said to him, \"Prince of genies, I\nmost humbly request you to suspend your anger, and do me the\nfavour to hear me. I will tell you the history of my life, and of\nthe hind you see; and if you think it more wonderful and\nsurprising than the adventure of the merchant, I hope you will\npardon the unfortunate man a third of his offence.\" The genie\ntook some time to deliberate on this proposal, but answered at\nlast, \"Well then, I agree.\"\n\n\n\n\n          The Story of the First Old Man and the Hind.\n\n\n\nI shall begin my story then; listen to me, I pray you, with\nattention. This hind you see is my cousin; nay, what is more, my\nwife. She was only twelve years of age when I married her, so\nthat I may justly say, she ought to regard me equally as her\nfather, her kinsman, and her husband.\n\nWe lived together twenty years, without any children. Her\nbarrenness did not effect any change in my love; I still treated\nher with much kindness and affection. My desire of having\nchildren only induced me to purchase a slave, by whom I had a\nson, who was extremely promising. My wife being jealous,\ncherished a hatred for both mother and child, but concealed her\naversion so well, that I knew nothing of it till it was too late.\n\nMean time my son grew up, and was ten years old, when I was\nobliged to undertake a long journey. Before I went, I recommended\nto my wife, of whom I had no mistrust, the slave and her son, and\nprayed her to take care of them during my absence, which was to\nbe for a whole year. She however employed that time to satisfy\nher hatred. She applied herself to magic, and when she had learnt\nenough of that diabolical art to execute her horrible design, the\nwretch carried my son to a desolate place, where, by her\nenchantments, she changed him into a calf, and gave him to my\nfarmer to fatten, pretending she had bought him. Her enmity did\nnot stop at this abominable action, but she likewise changed the\nslave into a cow, and gave her also to my farmer.\n\nAt my return, I enquired for the mother and child. \"Your slave,\"\nsaid she, \"is dead; and as for your son, I know not what is\nbecome of him, I have not seen him this two months.\" I was\nafflicted at the death of the slave, but as she informed me my\nson had only disappeared, I was in hopes he would shortly return.\nHowever, eight months passed, and I heard nothing of him. When\nthe festival of the great Bairam was to be celebrated, I sent to\nmy farmer for one of the fattest cows to sacrifice. He\naccordingly sent me one, and the cow which was brought me proved\nto be my slave, the unfortunate mother of my son. I bound her,\nbut as I was going to sacrifice her, she bellowed piteously, and\nI could perceive tears streaming from her eyes. This seemed to me\nvery extraordinary, and finding myself moved with compassion, I\ncould not find in my heart to give her a blow, but ordered my\nfarmer to get me another.\n\nMy wife, who was present, was enraged at my tenderness, and\nresisting an order which disappointed her malice, she cried out,\n\"What are you doing, husband? Sacrifice that cow; your farmer has\nnot a finer, nor one fitter for the festival.\" Out of deference\nto my wife, I came again to the cow, and combating my compassion,\nwhich suspended the sacrifice, was going to give her the fatal\nblow, when the victim redoubling her tears, and bellowing,\ndisarmed me a second time. I then put the mallet into the\nfarmer's hands, and desired him to take it and sacrifice her\nhimself, for her tears and bellowing pierced my heart.\n\nThe farmer, less compassionate than myself; sacrificed her; but\nwhen he flayed her, found her to be nothing except bones, though\nto she seemed very fat. \"Take her yourself,\" said I to him,\n\"dispose of her in alms, or any way you please: and if you have a\nvery fat calf, bring it me in her stead.\" I did not enquire what\nhe did with the cow, but soon after he had taken her away, he\nreturned with a fat calf. Though I knew not the calf was my son,\nyet I could not forbear being moved at the sight of him. On his\npart, as soon as he beheld me, he made so great an effort to come\nnear me, that he broke his cord, threw himself at my feet, with\nhis head against the ground, as if he meant to excite my\ncompassion, conjuring me not to be so cruel as to take his life;\nand did as much as was possible for him, to signify that he was\nmy son.\n\nI was more surprised and affected with this action, than with the\ntears of the cow. I felt a tender pity, which interested me on\nhis behalf, or rather, nature did its duty. \"Go,\" said I to the\nfarmer, \"carry home that calf, take great care of him, and bring\nme another in his stead immediately.\"\n\nAs soon as my wife heard me give this order, she exclaimed, \"What\nare you about, husband? Take my advice, sacrifice no other calf\nbut that.\" \"Wife,\" I replied, \"I will not sacrifice him, I will\nspare him, and pray do not you oppose me.\" The wicked woman had\nno regard to my wishes; she hated my son too much to consent that\nI should save him. I tied the poor creature, and taking up the\nfatal knife, was going to plunge it into my son's throat, when\nturning his eyes bathed with tears, in a languishing manner,\ntowards me, he affected me so much that I had not strength to\nkill him. I let the knife fall, and told my wife positively that\nI would have another calf to sacrifice, and not that. She used\nall her endeavours to persuade me to change my resolution; but I\ncontinued firm, and pacified her a little, by promising that I\nwould sacrifice him against the Bairam of the following year.\n\nThe next morning my farmer desired to speak with me alone. \"I\ncome,\" said he, \"to communicate to you a piece of intelligence,\nfor which I hope you will return me thanks. I have a daughter\nthat has some skill in magic. Yesterday, as I carried back the\ncalf which you would not sacrifice, I perceived she laughed when\nshe saw him, and in a moment after fell a weeping. I asked her\nwhy she acted two such opposite parts at one and the same time.\n'rather,' replied she, 'the calf you bring back is our landlord's\nson; I laughed for joy to see him still alive, and wept at the\nremembrance of the sacrifice that was made the other day of his\nmother, who was changed into a cow. These two metamorphoses were\nmade by the enchantments of our master's wife, who hated both the\nmother and son.' This is what my daughter told me,\" said the\nfarmer, \"and I come to acquaint you with it.\"\n\nI leave you to judge how much I was surprised. I went immediately\nto my farmer, to speak to his daughter myself. As soon as I\narrived, I went forthwith to the stall where my son was kept; he\ncould not return my embraces, but received them in such a manner,\nas fully satisfied me he was my son.\n\nThe farmer's daughter then came to us: \"My good maid,\" said I,\n\"can you restore my son to his former shape?\" \"Yes,\" she replied,\n\"I can.\" \"Ah!\" said I, \"if you do, I will make you mistress of\nall my fortune.\" She answered me, smiling, \"You are our master,\nand I well know what I owe to you; but I cannot restore your son\nto his former shape, except on two conditions: the first is, that\nyou give him to me for my husband; and the second, that you allow\nme to punish the person who changed him into a calf.\" \"As to the\nfirst,\" I replied, \"I agree with all my heart: nay, I promise you\nmore, a considerable fortune for yourself, independently of what\nI design for my son: in a word, you shall see how I will reward\nthe great service I expect from you. As to what relates to my\nwife, I also agree; a person who has been capable of committing\nsuch a criminal action, justly deserves to be punished. I leave\nher to your disposal, only I must pray you not to take her life.\"\n\"I am going then,\" answered she, \"to treat her as she treated\nyour son.\" \"To this I consent,\" said I, \"provided you first of\nall restore to me my son.\"\n\nThe damsel then took a vessel full of water, pronounced over it\nwords that I did not understand, and addressing herself to the\ncalf, \"O calf, if thou west created by the almighty and sovereign\nmaster of the world such as thou appearest at this time, continue\nin that form; but if thou be a man, and art changed into a calf\nby enchantment, return to thy natural shape, by the permission of\nthe sovereign Creator.\" As she spoke, she threw water upon him,\nand in an instant he recovered his natural form.\n\n\"My son, my dear son,\" cried I, immediately embracing him with\nsuch a transport of joy that I knew not what I was doing, \"it is\nheaven that hath sent us this young maid, to remove the horrible\ncharm by which you were enchanted, and to avenge the injury done\nto you and your mother. I doubt not but in acknowledgment you\nwill make your deliverer your wife, as I have promised.\" He\njoyfully consented; but before they married, she changed my wife\ninto a hind; and this is she whom you see here. I desired she\nmight have this shape, rather than another less agreeable, that\nwe might see her in the family without horror.\n\nSince that time, my son is become a widower, and gone to travel.\nIt being now several years since I heard of him, I am come abroad\nto inquire after him; and not being willing to trust anybody with\nmy wife, till I should return home, I thought fit to take her\neverywhere with me.\n\n\"This is the history of myself and this hind: is it not one of\nthe most wonderful and surprising?\" \"I admit it is,\" said the\ngenie, \"and on that account forgive the merchant one third of his\ncrime.\"\n\nWhen the first old man had finished his story, the second, who\nled the two black dogs, addressed the genie, and said: \"I am\ngoing to tell you what happened to me, and these two black dogs\nyou see by me; and I am certain you will say, that my story is\nyet more surprising than that which you have just heard. But when\nI have done this, I hope you will be pleased to pardon the\nmerchant another third of his offence.\" \"I will,\" replied the\ngenie, \"provided your story surpass that of the hind.\" Then the\nsecond old man began in this manner--\n\n\n\n\n    The Story of the Second old Man and the Two Black Dogs.\n\n\n\nGreat prince of genies, you must know that we are three brothers,\nthe two black dogs and myself. Our father, when he died, left\neach of us one thousand sequins. With that sum, we all became\nmerchants. A little time after we had opened shop, my eldest\nbrother, one of these two dogs, resolved to travel and trade in\nforeign countries. With this view, he sold his estate, and bought\ngoods suited to the trade intended to follow.\n\nHe went away, and was absent a whole year. At the expiration of\nthis time, a poor man, who I thought had come to ask alms,\npresented himself before me in my shop. I said to him, \"God help\nyou.\" He returned my salutation, and continued, \"Is it possible\nyou do not know me?\" Upon this I looked at him narrowly, and\nrecognised him: \"Ah, brother,\" cried I, embracing him, \"how could\nI know you in this condition?\" I made him come into my house, and\nasked him concerning his health and the success of his travels.\n\"Do not ask me that question,\" said he; \"when you see me, you see\nall: it would only renew my grief, to relate to you the\nparticulars of the misfortunes I have experienced since I left\nyou, which have reduced me to my present condition.\"\n\nI immediately shut up my shop, and taking him to a bath, gave him\nthe best clothes I had. Finding on examining my books, that I had\ndoubled my stock, that is to say, that I was worth two thousand\nsequins, I gave him one half; \"With that,\" said I, \"brother, you\nmay make up your loss.\" He joyfully accepted the present, and\nhaving repaired his fortunes, we lived together, as before.\n\nSome time after, my second brother, who is the other of these two\ndogs, would also sell his estate. His elder brother and myself\ndid all we could to divert him from his purpose, but without\neffect. He disposed of it, and with the money bought such goods\nas were suitable to the trade which he designed to follow. He\njoined a caravan, and departed. At the end of the year he\nreturned in the same condition as my other brother. Having myself\nby this time gained another thousand sequins, I made him a\npresent of them. With this sum he furnished his shop, and\ncontinued his trade.\n\nSome time after, one of my brothers came to me to propose that I\nshould join them in a trading voyage; I immediately declined.\n\"You have travelled,\" said I, \"and what have you gained by it?\nWho can assure me, that I shall be more successful than you have\nbeen?\" It was in vain that they urged open me all the\nconsiderations they thought likely to gain me over to their\ndesign, for I constantly refused; but after having resisted their\nsolicitations five whole years, they importuned me so much, that\nat last they overcame my resolution. When, however, the time\narrived that we were to make preparations for our voyage, to buy\nthe goods necessary to the undertaking, I found they had spent\nall, and had not one dirhem left of the thousand sequins I had\ngiven to each of them. I did not, on this account, upbraid them.\nOn the contrary, my stock being still six thousand sequins, I\nshared the half of it with them, telling them, \"My brothers, we\nmust venture these three thousand sequins, and hide the rest in\nsome secure place: that in case our voyage be not more successful\nthan yours was formerly, we may have wherewith to assist us, and\nto enable us to follow our ancient way of living.\" I gave each of\nthem a thousand sequins, and keeping as much for myself, I buried\nthe other three thousand in a corner of my house. We purchased\ngoods, and having embarked them on board a vessel, which we\nfreighted betwixt us, we put to sea with a favourable wind.\n\nAfter two months sail, we arrived happily at port, where we\nlanded, and had a very good market for our goods. I, especially,\nsold mine so well, that I gained ten to one. With the produce we\nbought commodities of that country, to carry back with us for\nsale.\n\nWhen we were ready to embark on our return, I met on the sea-shore a\nlady, handsome enough, but poorly clad. She walked up to me\ngracefully, kissed my hand, besought me with the greatest earnestness\nimaginable to marry her, and take her along with me. I made some\ndifficulty to agree to this proposal; but she urged so many things to\npersuade me that I ought not to object to her on account of her\npoverty, and that I should have all the reason in the world to be\nsatisfied with her conduct, that at last I yielded. I ordered proper\napparel to be made for her; and after having married her, according to\nform, I took her on board, and we set sail. I found my wife possessed\nso many good qualities, that my love to her every day increased. In\nthe mean time my two brothers, who had not managed their affairs as\nsuccessfully as I had mine, envied my prosperity; and suffered their\nfeelings to carry them so far, that they conspired against my life;\nand one night, when my wife and I were asleep, threw us both into the\nsea.\n\nMy wife proved to be a fairy, and, by consequence, a genie, so\nthat she could not be drowned; but for me, it is certain I must\nhave perished, without her help. I had scarcely fallen into the\nwater, when she took me up, and carried me to an island. When day\nappeared, she said to me, \"You see, husband, that by saving your\nlife, I have not rewarded you ill for your kindness to me. You\nmust know, that I am a fairy, and being upon the sea-shore, when\nyou were going to embark, I felt a strong desire to have you for\nmy husband; I had a mind to try your goodness, and presented\nmyself before you in disguise. You have dealt generously by me,\nand I am glad of an opportunity of returning my acknowledgment.\nBut I am incensed against your brothers, and nothing will satisfy\nme but their lives.\"\n\nI listened to this discourse with admiration; I thanked the fairy\nthe best way I could, for the great kindness she had done me;\n\"But, Madam,\" said I, \"as for my brothers, I beg you to pardon\nthem; whatever cause of resentment they have given me, I am not\ncruel enough to desire their death.\" I then informed her what I\nhad done for them, but this increased her indignation; and she\nexclaimed, \"I must immediately pursue those ungrateful traitors,\nand take speedy vengeance on them. I will destroy their vessel,\nand sink them into the bottom of the sea.\" \"My good lady,\"\nreplied I, \"for heaven's sake forbear; moderate your anger,\nconsider that they are my brothers, and that we ought to return\ngood for evil.\"\n\nI pacified her by these words; and as soon as I had concluded,\nshe transported me in a moment from the island to the roof of my\nown house, which was terraced, and instantly disappeared. I\ndescended, opened the doors, and dug up the three thousand\nsequins I had formerly secreted. I went afterwards to my shop,\nwhich I also opened; and was complimented by the merchants, my\nneighbours, upon my return. When I went back to my house, I\nperceived there two black dogs, which came up to me in a very\nsubmissive manner: I could not divine the meaning of this\ncircumstance, which greatly astonished me. But the fairy, who\nimmediately appeared, said, \"Husband, be not surprised to see\nthese dogs, they are your brothers.\" I was troubled at this\ndeclaration, and asked her by what power they were so\ntransformed. \"I did it,\" said she, \"or at least authorised one of\nmy sisters to do it, who at the same time sunk their ship. You\nhave lost the goods you had on board, but I will compensate you\nanother way. As to your two brothers, I have condemned them to\nremain five years in that shape. Their perfidiousness too well\ndeserves such a penance.\" Having thus spoken and told me where I\nmight hear of her, she disappeared.\n\n\"The five years being now nearly expired, I am travelling in quest\nof her; and as I passed this way, I met this merchant, and the\ngood old man who led the hind, and sat down by them. This is my\nhistory, O prince of genies! do not you think it very\nextraordinary?\"\n\n\"I own it is,\" replied the genie, \"and on that account I remit the\nmerchant the second third of the crime which he has committed against\nme.\"\n\nAs soon as the second old man had finished, the third began his\nstory, after repeating the request of the two former, that the\ngenie would pardon the merchant the other third of his crime,\nprovided what he should relate surpassed in singularity of\nincidents the narratives he had already heard. The genie made him\nthe same promise as he had given the others.\n\nThe third old man related his story to the genie; and it exceeded\nthe two former stories so much, in the variety of wonderful\nadventures, that the genie was astonished; and no sooner heard\nthe conclusion, than he said to the old man, \"I remit the other\nthird of the merchant's crime on account of your story. He is\ngreatly obliged to all of you, for having delivered him out of\nhis danger by what you have related, for to this he owes his\nlife.\" Having spoken thus he disappeared, to the great\ncontentment of the company.\n\nThe merchant failed not to make due acknowledgment to his\ndeliverers. They rejoiced to see him out of danger; and bidding\nhim adieu, each of them proceeded on his way. The merchant\nreturned to his wife and children, and passed the rest of his\ndays with them in peace.\n\n\n\n\n                  THE STORY OF THE FISHERMAN.\n\n\n\nThere was an aged fisherman, who was so poor, that he could\nscarcely as much as would maintain himself, his wife, and three\nchildren. He went every day to fish betimes in the morning; and\nimposed it as a law upon himself, not to cast his nets above four\ntimes a-day. He went one morning by moon-light, and coming to the\nseaside, undressed himself, and cast in his nets. As he drew them\ntowards the shore, he found them very heavy, and thought he had a\ngood draught of fish, at which he rejoiced; but in a moment\nafter, perceiving that instead of fish his nets contained nothing\nbut the carcass of an ass, he was much vexed.\n\nWhen the fisherman had mended his nets, which the carcass of the\nass had broken in several places, he threw them in a second time;\nand when he drew them, found a great deal of resistance, which\nmade him think he had taken abundance of fish; but he found\nnothing except a basket full of gravel and slime, which grieved\nhim extremely. \"O fortune!\" cried he, with a lamentable tone, \"be\nnot angry with me, nor persecute a wretch who prays thee to spare\nhim. I came hither from my house to seek for my livelihood, and\nthou pronouncest against me a sentence of death. I have no other\ntrade but this to subsist by: and notwithstanding all my care, I\ncan scarcely provide what is absolutely necessary for my family.\nBut I am to blame to complain of thee; thou takest pleasure to\npersecute honest people, and to leave great men in obscurity,\nwhile thou shewest favour to the wicked, and advancest those who\nhave no virtue to recommend them.\"\n\nHaving finished this complaint, he fretfully threw away the\nbasket, and washing his nets from the slime, cast them the third\ntime; but brought up nothing, except stones, shells, and mud. No\nlanguage can express his disappointment; he was almost\ndistracted. However, when day began to appear, he did not forget\nto say his prayers, like a good Moosulmaun, and he added to them\nthis petition: \"Lord, thou knowest that I cast my nets only four\ntimes a day; I have already drawn them three times, without the\nleast reward for my labour: I am only to cast them once more; I\npray thee to render the sea favourable to me, as thou didst to\nMoses.\"\n\nThe fisherman having finished this prayer, cast his nets the\nfourth time; and when he thought it was proper, drew them as\nformerly, with great difficulty; but instead of fish, found\nnothing in them but a vessel of yellow copper, which from its\nweight seemed not to be empty; and he observed that it was shut\nup and sealed with lead, having the impression of a seal upon it.\nThis turn of fortune rejoiced him; \"I will sell it,\" said he, \"to\nthe founder, and with the money buy a measure of corn.\" He\nexamined the vessel on all sides, and shook it, to try if its\ncontents made any noise, but heard nothing. This circumstance,\nwith the impression of the seal upon the leaden cover, made him\nthink it inclosed something precious. To try this, he took a\nknife, and opened it with very little labour. He turned the mouth\ndownward, but nothing came out; which surprised him extremely. He\nplaced it before him, but while he viewed it attentively, there\ncame out a very thick smoke, which obliged him to retire two or\nthree paces back.\n\nThe smoke ascended to the clouds, and extending itself along the\nsea and upon the shore formed a great mist, which we may well\nimagine filled the fisherman with astonishment. When the smoke\nwas all out of the vessel, it re-united and became a solid body,\nof which was formed a genie twice as high as the greatest of\ngiants. At the sight of a monster of such an unwieldy bulk, the\nfisherman would fain have fled, but was so frightened, that he\ncould not move.\n\n\"Solomon,\" cried the genie immediately, \"Solomon, the great\nprophet, pardon, pardon; I will never more oppose your will, I\nwill obey all your commands.\"\n\nWhen the fisherman heard these words of the genie, he recovered\nhis courage, and said to him, \"Thou proud spirit, what is it you\nsay? It is above eighteen hundred years since the prophet Solomon\ndied, and we are now at the end of time. Tell me your history,\nand how you came to be shut up in this vessel.\"\n\nThe genie turning to the fisherman, with a fierce look, said.\n\"Thou must speak to me with more respect; thou art a presumptuous\nfellow to call me a proud spirit.\" \"Very well,\" replied the\nfisherman, \"shall I speak to you more civilly, and call you the\nowl of good luck?\" \"I say,\" answered the genie, \"speak to me more\nrespectfully, or I will kill thee.\" \"Ah!\" replied the fisherman,\n\"why would you kill me? Did I not just now set you at liberty,\nand have you already forgotten my services?\" \"Yes, I remember\nit,\" said the genie, \"but that shall not save thy life: I have\nonly one favour to grant thee.\" \"And what is that?\" asked the\nfisherman. \"It is,\" answered the genie, \"to give thee thy choice,\nin what manner thou wouldst have me put thee to death.\" \"But\nwherein have I offended you?\" demanded the fisherman. \"Is that\nyour reward for the service I have rendered you?\" \"I cannot treat\nthee otherwise,\" said the genie; \"and that thou mayest know the\nreason, hearken to my story.\"\n\n\"I am one of those rebellious spirits that opposed the will of\nheaven; nearly all the other genies owned Solomon, the great\nprophet, and yielded to his authority. Sabhir and I were the only\ntwo that would never be guilty of a mean submission: and to\navenge himself, that great monarch sent Asaph, the son of\nBarakhia, his chief minister, to apprehend me. That was\naccordingly done. Asaph seized my person, and brought me by force\nbefore his master's throne.\n\n\"Solomon, the son of David, commanded me to acknowledge his\npower, and to submit to his commands: I bravely refused, and told\nhim, I would rather expose myself to his resentment, than swear\nfealty as he required. To punish me, he shut me up in this copper\nvessel; and that I might not break my prison, he himself stamps\nupon this leaden cover, his seal with the great name of God\nengraver upon it. He then gave the vessel to one of the genies\nwho had submitted, with orders to throw me into the sea, which to\nmy sorrow were executed.\n\n\"During the first hundred years of my imprisonment, I swore that\nif any one should deliver me before the expiration of that\nperiod, I would make him rich, even after his death: but that\ncentury ran out, and nobody did me that good office. During the\nsecond, I made an oath, that I would open all the treasures of\nthe earth to any one that might set me at liberty; but with no\nbetter success. In the third, I promised to make my deliverer a\npotent monarch, to be always near him in spirit, and to grant him\nevery day three requests, of what nature soever they might be:\nbut this century passed as well as the two former, and I\ncontinued in prison. At last being angry, or rather mad, to find\nmyself a prisoner so long, I swore, that if afterwards any one\nshould deliver me, I would kill him without mercy, and grant him\nno other favour but to choose the manner of his death; and\ntherefore, since thou hast delivered me to-day, I give thee that\nchoice.\"\n\nThis discourse afflicted the fisherman extremely: \"I am very\nunfortunate,\" cried he, \"to come hither to do such a kindness to\none that is so ungrateful. I beg you to consider your injustice,\nand revoke such an unreasonable oath; pardon me, and heaven will\npardon you; if you grant me my life, heaven will protest you from\nall attempts against your own.\" \"No, thy death is resolved on,\"\nsaid the genie, \"only choose in what manner you will die.\" The\nfisherman perceiving the genie to be resolute, was extremely\ngrieved, not so much for himself, as on account of his three\nchildren; and bewailed the misery they must be reduced to by his\ndeath. He endeavoured still to appease the genie, and said,\n\"Alas! be pleased to take pity on me, in consideration of the\nservice I have done you.\" \"I have told thee already,\" replied the\ngenie, \"it is for that very reason I must kill thee.\" \"That is\nstrange,\" said the fisherman, \"are you resolved to reward good\nwith evil? The proverb says, 'That he who does good to one who\ndeserves it not is always ill rewarded.' I must confess, I\nthought it was false; for certainly there can be nothing more\ncontrary to reason, or the laws of society. Nevertheless, I find\nnow by cruel experience that it is but too true.\" \"Do not lose\ntime,\" interrupted the genie; \"all thy reasonings shall not\ndivert me from my purpose: make haste, and tell me what kind of\ndeath thou preferest?\"\n\nNecessity is the mother of invention. The fisherman bethought\nhimself of a stratagem. \"Since I must die then,\" said he to the\ngenie, \"I submit to the will of heaven; but before I choose the\nmanner of my death, I conjure you by the great name which was\nengraver upon the seal of the prophet Solomon, the son of David,\nto answer me truly the question I am going to ask you.\"\n\nThe genie finding himself obliged to a positive answer by this\nadjuration, trembled; and replied to the fisherman, \"Ask what\nthou wilt, but make haste.\"\n\nThe fisherman then said to him, \"I wish to know if you were\nactually in this vessel: Dare you swear it by the name of the\ngreat God?\" \"Yes,\" replied the genie, \"I do swear by that great\nname, that I was.\" \"In good faith,\" answered the fisherman, \"I\ncannot believe you; the vessel is not capable of holding one of\nyour size, and how should it be possible that your whole body\nshould lie in it?\" \"I swear to thee, notwithstanding,\" replied\nthe genie, \"that I was there just as you see me here: Is it\npossible, that thou cost not believe me after the solemn oath I\nhave taken?\" \"Truly not I,\" said the fisherman; \"nor will I\nbelieve you, unless you go into the vessel again.\"\n\nUpon which the body of the genie dissolved and changed itself\ninto smoke, extending as before upon the sea shore; and at last,\nbeing collected, it began to re-enter the vessel, which it\ncontinued to do by a slow and equal motion, till no part remained\nout; when immediately a voice came forth, which said to the\nfisherman, \"Well now, incredulous fellow, I am in the vessel, do\nnot you believe me now?\"\n\nThe fisherman, instead of answering the genie, took the cover of\nlead, and having speedily replaced it on the vessel, \"Genie,\"\ncried he, \"now it is your turn to beg my favour, and to choose\nwhich way I shall put you to death; but not so, it is better that\nI should throw you into the sea, whence I took you: and then I\nwill build a house upon the shore, where I will reside and give\nnotice to all fishermen who come to throw in their nets, to\nbeware of such a wicked genie as thou art, who hast made an oath\nto kill him that shall set thee at liberty.\"\n\nThe genie, enraged at these expressions, struggled to set himself\nat liberty; but it was impossible, for the impression of\nSolomon's seal prevented him. Perceiving that the fisherman had\ngot the advantage of him, for he thought fit to dissemble his\nanger; \"Fishermen,\" said he, \"take heed you do not what you\nthreaten; for what I spoke to you was only by way of jest.\" \"O\ngenie!\" replied the fisherman, \"thou who wast but a moment ago\nthe greatest of all genies, and now art the least of them, thy\ncrafty discourse will signify nothing, to the sea thou shalt\nreturn. If thou hast been there already so long as thou hast told\nme, thou may'st very well stay there till the day of judgment. I\nbegged of thee in God's name not to take away my life, and thou\ndidst reject my prayers; I am obliged to treat thee in the same\nmanner.\"\n\nThe genie omitted nothing that he thought likely to prevail with\nthe fisherman: \"Open the vessel,\" said he, \"give me my liberty,\nand I promise to satisfy thee to thy own content.\" \"Thou art a\ntraitor,\" replied the fisherman, \"I should deserve to lose my\nlife, if I were such a fool as to trust thee: thou wilt not fail\nto treat me in the same manner as a certain Grecian king treated\nthe physician Douban. It is a story I have a mind to tell thee,\ntherefore listen to it.\"\n\n\n\n\n    The Story of the Grecian King and the Physician Douban.\n\n\n\nThere was in the country of Yunaun or Greece, a king who was\nleprous, and his physicians had in vain endeavoured his cure;\nwhen a very able physician, named Douban, arrived at his court.\n\nThis physician had learnt the theory of his profession in Greek,\nPersian, Turkish, Arabic, Latin, Syriac, and Hebrew books; he was\nan experienced natural philosopher, and fully understood the good\nand bad qualities of plants and drugs. As soon as he was informed\nof the king's distemper, and understood that his physicians had\ngiven him over, he found means to present himself before him. \"I\nknow,\" said he, after the usual ceremonials, \"that your majesty's\nphysicians have not been able to heal you of the leprosy; but if\nyou will accept my service, I will engage to cure you without\npotions, or external applications.\"\n\nThe king listened to what he said, and answered, \"If you be able\nto perform what you promise, I will enrich you and your\nposterity. Do you assure me that you will cure my leprosy without\npotion, or applying any external medicine?\" \"Yes, Sire,\" replied\nthe physician, \"I promise myself success, through God's\nassistance, and to-morrow, with your majesty's permission, I will\nmake the trial.\"\n\nThe physician returned to his quarters, made a hollow mace, and\nat the handle he put in his drugs; he made also a ball in such a\nmanner as suited his purpose, with which next morning he\npresented himself before the king, and falling down at his feet,\nkissed the ground.\n\nThe physician Douban rose up, and after a profound reverence, said to\nthe king, he judged it meet that his majesty should take horse, and go\nto the place where he used to play at mall. The king did so, and when\nhe arrived there, the physician came to him with the mace, and said,\n\"Exercise yourself with this mace, and strike the ball until you find\nyour hands and body perspire. When the medicine I have put up in the\nhandle of the mace is heated with your hand, it will penetrate your\nwhole body; and as soon as you perspire, you may leave off the\nexercise, for then the medicine will have had its effect. Immediately\non your return to your palace, go into the bath, and cause yourself to\nbe well washed and rubbed; then retire to bed, and when you rise\nto-morrow you will find yourself cured.\"\n\nThe king took the mace, and struck the ball, which was returned\nby his officers who played with him; he played so long, that his\nhands and his whole body were in a sweat, and then the medicine\nshut up in the handle of the mace had its operation, as the\nphysician had said. Upon this the king left off play, returned to\nhis palace, entered the bath, and observed very exactly his\nphysician had prescribed to him.\n\nThe next morning when he arose, he perceived with equal wonder\nand joy, that his leprosy was cured, and his body as clean as if\nit had never been affected. As soon as he was dressed, he came\ninto the hall of audience, where he ascended his throne, and\nshewed himself to his courtiers: who, eager to know the success\nof the new medicine, came thither betimes, and when they saw the\nking perfectly cured, expressed great joy. The physician Douban\nentering the hall, bowed himself before the throne, with his face\nto the ground. The king perceiving him, made him sit down by his\nside, presented him to the assembly, and gave him all the\ncommendation he deserved. His majesty did not stop here: but as\nhe treated all his court that day, made him eat at his table\nalone with him.\n\nThe Grecian king was not satisfied with having admitted the\nphysician Douban to his table, but caused him to be clad in a\nrich robe, ordered him two thousand pieces of gold, and thinking\nthat he could never sufficiently acknowledge his obligations to\nhim, continued every day to load him with new favours. But this\nking had a vizier, who was avaricious, envious, and naturally\ncapable of every kind of mischief. He could not behold without\nenvy the presents that were given to the physician, whose other\nmerits had already begun to make him jealous, and he therefore\nresolved to lessen him in the king's esteem. To effect this, he\nwent to the king, and told him in private, that he had some\ninformation of the greatest consequence to communicate. The king\nhaving asked what it was? \"Sire,\" said he, \"it is highly\ndangerous for a monarch to confide in a man whose fidelity he has\nnever tried. Though you heap favours upon the physician Douban,\nyour majesty does not know that he is a traitor, sent by your\nenemies to take away your life.\" \"From whom,\" demanded the king,\n\"have you the suggestion which you dare pronounce? Consider to\nwhom you are speaking, and that you are advancing what I shall\nnot easily believe.\" \"Sire,\" replied the vizier, \"I am well\ninformed of what I have had the honour to reveal to your majesty;\ntherefore do not rest in dangerous security: if your majesty be\nasleep, be pleased to awake; for I once more repeat, that the\nphysician Douban left his native country, and came to settle\nhimself at your court, for the sole purpose of executing the\nhorrible design which I have intimated.\"\n\n\"No, no, vizier,\" interrupted the king; \"I am certain, that this\nphysician, whom you suspect to be a villain and a traitor, is one\nof the best and most virtuous of men. You know by what medicine,\nor rather by what miracle, he cured me of my leprosy: If he had\nhad a design upon my life, why did he save me then? He needed\nonly to have left me to my disease; I could not have escaped it,\nas life was fast decaying. Forbear then to fill me with unjust\nsuspicions: instead of listening to you, I tell you, that from\nthis day forward I will give that great man a pension of a\nthousand pieces of gold per month for his life; nay, though I\nwere to share with him all my riches and dominions, I should\nnever pay him sufficiently for what he has done. I perceive it to\nbe his virtue that raises your envy; but do not think I will be\nunjustly prejudiced against him. I remember too well what a\nvizier said to king Sinbad, his master, to prevent his putting to\ndeath the prince his son.\"\n\nWhat the Grecian king said about king Sinbad raised the vizier's\ncuriosity, who said, \"I pray your majesty to pardon me, if I have\nthe boldness to ask what the vizier of king Sinbad said to his\nmaster to divert him from putting the prince his son to death.\"\nThe Grecian king had the condescension to satisfy him: \"That\nvizier,\" said he, \"after having represented to king Sinbad, that\nhe ought to beware, lest on the accusation of a mother-in-law he\nshould commit an action of which he might afterwards repent, told\nhim this story.\"\n\n\n\n\n             The Story of the Husband and the Parrot.\n\n\n\nA certain man had a beautiful wife, whom he loved so dearly, that\nhe could scarcely allow her to be out of his sight. One day, some\nurgent affairs obliging him to go from home, he went to a place\nwhere all sorts of birds were sold, and bought a parrot, which\nnot only spoke well, but could also give an account of every\nthing that was done in its presence. He brought it in a cage to\nhis house, desired his wife to put it in his chamber, and take\ncare of it during his absence, and then departed.\n\nOn his return, he questioned the parrot concerning what had passed\nwhile he was from home, and the bird told him such things as gave him\noccasion to upbraid his wife. She concluded some of her slaves had\nbetrayed her, but all of them swore they had been faithful, and agreed\nthat the parrot must have been the tell-tale.\n\nUpon this, the wife began to devise how she might remove her\nhusband's jealousy, and at the same time revenge herself on the\nparrot. Her husband being gone another journey, she commanded a\nslave in the night-time to turn a hand-mill under the parrot's\ncage; she ordered another to sprinkle water, in resemblance of\nrain, over the cage; and a third to move a looking-glass,\nbackward and forward against a candle, before the parrot. The\nslaves spent a great part of the night in doing what their\nmistress desired them, and acquitted themselves with much skill.\n\nNext night the husband returned, and examined the parrot again\nabout what had passed during his absence. The bird answered,\n\"Good master, the lightning, thunder, and rain so much disturbed\nme all night, that I cannot tell how much I suffered.\" The\nhusband, who knew that there had been neither thunder, lightning,\nnor rain in the night, fancied that the parrot, not having spoken\ntruth in this, might also have lied in the other relation; upon\nwhich he took it out of the cage, and threw it with so much force\nto the ground that he killed it. Yet afterwards he understood\nfrom his neigbours, that the poor parrot had not deceived him in\nwhat it had stated of his wife's base conduct, made him repent\nthat he had killed it.\n\nWhen the Grecian king had finished the story of the parrot, he\nadded, \"And you, vizier, because of the hatred you bear to the\nphysician Douban, who never did you any injury, you would have me\ncut him off; but I will beware lest I should repent as the\nhusband did after killing his parrot.\"\n\nThe mischievous vizier was too desirous of effecting the ruin of\nthe physician Douban to stop here. \"Sir,\" said he, \"the death of\nthe parrot was but a trifle, and I believe his master did not\nmourn for him long: but why should your fear of wronging an\ninnocent man, hinder your putting this physician to death? Is it\nnot sufficient justification that he is accused of a design\nagainst your life? When the business in question is to secure the\nlife of a king, bare suspicion ought to pass for certainty; and\nit is better to sacrifice the innocent than to spare the guilty.\nBut, Sir, this is not a doubtful case; the physician Douban has\ncertainly a mind to assassinate you. It is not envy which makes\nme his enemy; it is only my zeal, with the concern I have for\npreserving your majesty's life, that makes me give you my advice\nin a matter of this importance. If the accusation be false, I\ndeserve to be punished in the same manner as a vizier formerly\nwas.\" \"What had the vizier done,\" demands the Grecian king, \"to\ndeserve punishment?\" \"I will inform your majesty,\" said the\nvizier, \"if you will be pleased to hear me.\"\n\n\n\n\n                The Story of the Vizier that was Punished.\n\n\n\nThere was a king who had a son that loved hunting. He allowed him\nto pursue that diversion often; but gave orders to his grand\nvizier always to attend him.\n\nOne hunting day, the huntsman having roused a deer, the prince,\nwho thought the vizier followed him, pursued the game so far, and\nwith so much earnestness, that he separated himself from the\ncompany. Perceiving he had lost his way he stopped, and\nendeavoured to return to the vizier; but not knowing the country\nhe wandered farther.\n\nWhilst he was thus riding about, he met on his way a handsome\nlady, who wept bitterly. He stopped his horse, and enquired who\nshe was, how she came to be alone in that place, and what she\nwanted. \"I am,\" replied she, \"the daughter of an Indian king. As\nI was taking the air on horseback, in the country, I grew sleepy,\nand fell from my horse, who is run away, and I know not what is\nbecome of him.\" The young prince taking compassion on her,\nrequested her to get up behind him, which she willingly did.\n\nAs they were passing by the ruins of a house, the lady expressed\na desire to alight. The prince stopped, and having put her down,\ndismounted himself, and went near the building, leading his horse\nafter him. But you may judge how much he was surprised, when he\nheard the pretended lady utter these words: \"Be glad, my\nchildren, I bring you a young man for your repast;\" and other\nvoices, which answered immediately, \"Where is he, for we are very\nhungry?\"\n\nThe prince heard enough to convince him of his danger. He\nperceived that the lady, who called herself the daughter of an\nIndian king, was one of those savage demons, called Gholes, who\nlive in desolated places, and employ a thousand wiles to surprise\npassengers, whom they afterwards devour. The prince instantly\nremounted his horse, and luckily escaped.\n\nThe pretended princess appeared that very moment, and perceiving\nshe had missed her prey, exclaimed, \"Fear nothing, prince: Who\nare you? Whom do you seek?\" \"I have lost my way,\" replied he,\n\"and am endeavouring to find it.\" \"If you have lost your way,\"\nsaid she, \"recommend yourself to God, he will deliver you out of\nyour perplexity.\"\n\nAfter the counterfeit Indian princess had bidden the young prince\nrecommend himself to God, he could not believe she spoke\nsincerely, but thought herself sure of him; and therefore lifting\nup his hands to heaven, said, \"Almighty Lord, cast shine eyes\nupon me, and deliver me from this enemy.\" After this prayer, the\nghole entered the ruins again, and the prince rode off with all\npossible haste. He happily found his way, and arrived safe at the\ncourt of his father, to whom he gave a particular account of the\ndanger he had been in through the vizier's neglect: upon which\nthe king, being incensed against that minister, ordered him to be\nimmediately strangled.\n\n\"Sir,\" continued the Grecian king's vizier, \"to return to the\nphysician Douban, if you do not take care, the confidence you put\nin him will be fatal to you; I am very well assured that he is a\nspy sent by your enemies to attempt your majesty's life. He has\ncured you, you will say: but alas! who can assure you of that? He\nhas perhaps cured you only in appearance, and not radically; who\nknows but the medicine he has given you, may in time have\npernicious effects?\"\n\nThe Grecian king was not able to discover the wicked design of\nhis vizier, nor had he firmness enough to persist in his first\nopinion. This discourse staggered him: \"Vizier,\" said he, \"thou\nart in the right; he may be come on purpose to take away my life,\nwhich he may easily do by the smell of his drugs.\"\n\nWhen the vizier found the king in such a temper as he wished,\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"the surest and speediest method you can take to\nsecure your life, is to send immediately for the physician\nDouban, and order his head to be struck off.\" \"In truth,\" said\nthe king, \"I believe that is the way we must take to frustrate\nhis design.\" When he had spoken thus, he called for one of his\nofficers, and ordered him to go for the physician; who, knowing\nnothing of the king's purpose, came to the palace in haste.\n\n\"Knowest thou,\" said the king, when he saw him, \"why I sent for\nthee?\" \"No, Sir,\" answered he; \"I wait till your majesty be\npleased to inform me.\" \"I sent for thee,\" replied the king, \"to\nrid myself of thee, by taking away thy life.\"\n\nNo man can express the surprise of the physician, when he heard\nthe sentence of death pronounced against him. \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"why would your majesty take my life? What crime have I\ncommitted?\" \"I am informed,\" replied the king, \"that you came to\nmy court only to attempt my life; but to prevent you, I will be\nsure of yours. Give the blow,\" said he to the executioner, who\nwas present, \"and deliver me from a perfidious wretch, who came\nhither on purpose to assassinate me.\"\n\nWhen the physician heard this cruel order, he readily judged that\nthe honours and presents he had received from the king had\nprocured him enemies, and that the weak prince was imposed on. He\nrepented that he had cured him of his leprosy; but it was now too\nlate. \"Is it thus,\" asked the physician, \"that you reward me for\ncuring you?\" The king would not hearken to him, but a second time\nordered the executioner to strike the fatal blow. The physician\nthen had recourse to his prayers; \"Alas, Sir,\" cried he, \"prolong\nmy days, and God will prolong yours; do not put me to death, lest\nGod treat you in the same manner.\"\n\nThe fisherman broke off his discourse here, to apply it to the\ngenie. \"Well, genie,\" said he, \"you see that what passed betwixt\nthe Grecian king and his physician Douban is acted just now by\nus.\"\n\nThe Grecian king, continued he, instead of having regard to the\nprayers of the physician, who begged him to spare his life,\ncruelly replied, \"No, no; I must of necessity cut you off,\notherwise you may assassinate with as much art as you cured me.\"\nThe physician, without bewailing himself for being so ill\nrewarded by the king, prepared for death. The executioner tied\nhis hands, and was going to draw his cimeter.\n\nThe courtiers who were present, being moved with compassion,\nbegged the king to pardon him, assuring his majesty that he was\nnot guilty of the crime laid to his charge, and that they would\nanswer for his innocence: but the king was inflexible.\n\nThe physician being on his knees, his eyes tied up, and ready to\nreceive the fatal blow, addressed himself once more to the king:\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"since your majesty will not revoke the sentence\nof death, I beg, at least, that you would give me leave to return\nto my house, to give orders about my burial, to bid farewell to\nmy family, to give alms, and to bequeath my books to those who\nare capable of making good use of them. I have one particularly I\nwould present to your majesty; it is a very precious book, and\nworthy of being laid up carefully in your treasury.\" \"What is\nit,\" demanded the king, \"that makes it so valuable?\" \"Sir,\"\nreplied the physician, \"it possesses many singular and curious\nproperties; of which the chief is, that if your majesty will give\nyourself the trouble to open it at the sixth leaf, and read the\nthird line of the left page, my head, after being cut off, will\nanswer all the questions you ask it.\" The king being curious,\ndeferred his death till next day, and sent him home under a\nstrong guard.\n\nThe physician, during that time, put his affairs in order; and\nthe report being spread, that an unheard of prodigy was to happen\nafter his death, the viziers, emirs, officers of the guard, and,\nin a word, the whole court, repaired next day to the hall of\naudience, that they might be witnesses of it.\n\nThe physician Douban was brought in, and advancing to the foot of\nthe throne, with a book in his hand, he called for a basin, and\nlaid upon it the cover in which the book was wrapped; then\npresenting the book to the king, \"Take this,\" said he, \"and after\nmy head is cut off, order that it be put into the basin upon that\ncover; as soon as it is placed there, the blood will stop; then\nopen the book, and my head will answer your questions. But permit\nme once more to implore your majesty's clemency; for God's sake\ngrant my request, I protest to you that I am innocent.\" \"Your\nprayers,\" answered the king, \"are in vain; and were it for\nnothing but to hear your head speak after your death, it is my\nwill you should die.\" As he said this, he took the book out of\nthe physician's hand, and ordered the executioner to do his duty.\n\nThe head was so dexterously cut off that it fell into the basin,\nand was no sooner laid upon the cover of the book than the blood\nstopped; then to the great surprise of the king, and all the\nspectators, its eyes, and said, \"Sir, will your majesty be\npleased to open the book?\" The king proceeded to do so; but\nfinding that the leaves adhered to each other, that he might turn\nthem with more ease, he put his finger to his mouth, and wetted\nit with spittle. He did thus till he came to the sixth leaf, and\nfinding no writing on the place where he was desired to look for\nit, \"Physician,\" said he, \"there is nothing written.\" \"Turn over\nsome more leaves,\" replied the head. The king went on, putting\nalways his finger to his mouth, until the poison with which each\nleaf was imbued, coming to have its effect, the prince found\nhimself suddenly taken with an extraordinary fit, his eye-sight\nfailed, and he fell down at the foot of the throne in violent\nconvulsions.\n\nWhen the physician Douban, or rather his head, saw that the\npoison had taken effect, and that the king had but a few moments\nto live; \"Tyrant,\" it cried, \"now you see how princes are\ntreated, who, abusing their authority, cut off innocent men: God\npunishes soon or late their injustice and cruelty.\" Scarcely had\nthe head spoken these words, when the king fell down dead, and\nthe head itself lost what life it had.\n\nAs soon as the fisherman had concluded the history of the Greek\nking and his physician Douban, he made the application to the\ngenie, whom he still kept shut up in the vessel. \"If the Grecian\nking,\" said he, \"had suffered the physician to live, God would\nhave continued his life also; but he rejected his most humble\nprayers, and the case is the same with thee, O genie! Could I\nhave prevailed with thee to grant me the favour I supplicated, I\nshould now take pity on thee; but since, notwithstanding the\nextreme obligation thou west under to me, for having set thee at\nliberty, thou didst persist in thy design to kill me, I am\nobliged, in my turn, to be equally hard-hearted to thee.\"\n\n\"My good friend fisherman,\" replied the genie, \"I conjure thee\nonce more, not to be guilty of such cruelty; consider, that it is\nnot good to avenge one's self, and that on the other hand, it is\ncommendable to do good for evil; do not treat me as Imama\nformerly treated Ateca.\" \"And what did Imama to Ateca?\" enquired\nthe fisherman. \"Ho!\" says the genie, \"if you have a mind to be\ninformed, open the vessel: do you think that I can be in an\nhumour to relate stories in so strait a prison? I will tell you\nas many as you please, when you have let me out.\" \"No,\" said the\nfisherman, \"I will not let thee out; it is in vain to talk of it;\nI am just going to throw thee into the bottom of the sea.\" \"Hear\nme one word more,\" cried the genie; \"I promise to do thee no\nhurt; nay, far from that, I will shew thee a way to become\nexceedingly rich.\"\n\nThe hope of delivering himself from poverty, prevailed with the\nfisherman. \"I could listen to thee,\" said he, \"were there any\ncredit to be given to thy word; swear to me by the great name of\nGod, that you will faithfully perform what you promise, and I\nwill open the vessel; I do not believe you will dare to break\nsuch an oath.\"\n\nThe genie swore to him, upon which the fisherman immediately took\noff the covering of the vessel. At that instant the smoke\nascended, and the genie having resumed his form, the first thing\nhe did was to kick the vessel into the sea. This action alarmed\nthe fisherman. \"Genie,\" said he, \"will not you keep the oath you\njust now made? And must I say to you, as the physician Douban\nsaid to the Grecian king, suffer me to live, and God will prolong\nyour days.\"\n\nThe genie laughed at the fisherman's fear, and answered, \"No,\nfisherman, be not afraid, I only did it to divert myself, and to\nsee if thou wouldst be alarmed at it: but to convince thee that I\nam in earnest, take thy nets and follow me.\" As he spoke these\nwords, he walked before the fisherman, who having taken up his\nnets, followed him, but with some distrust. They passed by the\ntown, and came to the top of a mountain, from whence they\ndescended into a vast plain, which brought them to a lake, that\nlay betwixt four hills.\n\nWhen they reached the side of the lake, the genie said to the\nfisherman, \"Cast in thy nets, and catch fish;\" the fisherman did\nnot doubt of taking some, because he saw a great number in the\nwater; but he was extremely surprised, when he found they were of\nfour colours, that is to say, white, red, blue, and yellow. He\nthrew in his nets, and brought out one of each colour. Having\nnever seen the like before, he could not but admire them, and\njudging that he might get a considerable sum for them, he was\nvery joyful. \"Carry those fish,\" said the genie to him, \"and\npresent them to thy sultan; he will give thee more money for\nthem. Thou mayest come every day to fish in this lake; but I give\nthee warning not to throw in thy nets above once a day, otherwise\nthou wilt repent.\" Having spoken thus, he struck his foot upon\nthe ground, which opened, and after it had swallowed him up\nclosed again.\n\nThe fisherman being resolved to follow the genie's advice,\nforbore casting in his nets a second time; and returned to the\ntown very well satisfied; and making a thousand reflections upon\nhis adventure. He went immediately to the sultan's palace, to\noffer his fish.\n\nThe sultan was much surprised, when he saw the four fish which\nthe fisherman presented. He took them up one after another, and\nviewed them with attention; and after having admired them a long\ntime, \"Take those fish,\" said he to his vizier, \"and carry them\nto the cook, whom the emperor of the Greeks has sent me. I cannot\nimagine but that they must be as good as they are beautiful.\"\n\nThe vizier, carried them as he was directed, and delivering them\nto the cook, said, \"Here are four fish just brought to the\nsultan; he orders you to dress them:\" he then returned to the\nsultan his master, who ordered him to give the fisherman four\nhundred pieces of gold of the coin of that country, which he did\naccordingly.\n\nThe fisherman, who had never seen so much money, could scarcely\nbelieve his good fortune, but thought the whole must be a dream,\nuntil he found it otherwise, by being able to provide necessaries\nfor his family with the produce of his fish.\n\nAs soon as the sultan's cook had gutted the fish, she put them\nupon the fire in a frying-pan, with oil, and when she thought\nthem fried enough on one side, she turned them upon the other;\nbut, O monstrous prodigy! scarcely were they turned, when the\nwall of the kitchen divided, and a young lady of wonderful beauty\nentered from the opening. She was clad in flowered satin, after\nthe Egyptian manner, with pendants in her ears, a necklace of\nlarge pearls, and bracelets of gold set with rubies, with a rod\nin her hand. She moved towards the frying-pan, to the great\namazement of the cook, who continued fixed by the sight, and\nstriking one of the fish with the end of the rod, said, \"Fish,\nfish, are you in duty?\" The fish having answered nothing, she\nrepeated these words, and then the four fish lifted up their\nheads, and replied, \"Yes, yes: if you reckon, we reckon; if you\npay your debts, we pay ours; if you fly, we overcome, and are\ncontent.\" As soon as they had finished these words, the lady\noverturned the frying-pan, and returned into the open part of the\nwall, which closed immediately, and became as it was before.\n\nThe cook was greatly frightened at what had happened, and coming\na little to herself, went to take up the fish that had fallen on\nthe hearth, but found them blacker than coal, and not fit to be\ncarried to the sultan. This grievously troubled her, and she fell\nto weeping most bitterly. \"Alas!\" said she, \"what will become of\nme? If I tell the sultan what I have seen, I am sure he will not\nbelieve me, but will be enraged against me.\"\n\nWhile she was thus bewailing herself, the grand vizier entered,\nand asked her if the fish were ready? She told him all that had\noccurred, which we may easily imagine astonished him; but without\nspeaking a word of it to the sultan, he invented an excuse that\nsatisfied him, and sending immediately for the fisherman, bid him\nbring four more such fish, for a misfortune had befallen the\nothers, so that they were not fit to be carried to the sultan.\nThe fisherman, without saying any thing of what the genie had\ntold him, in order to excuse himself from bringing them that day,\ntold the vizier, he had a great way to go for them, but would\ncertainly bring them on the morrow.\n\nAccordingly the fisherman went away by night, and coming to the\nlake, threw in his nets betimes next morning, took four fish like\nthe former, and brought them to the vizier, at the hour\nappointed. The minister took them himself, carried them to the\nkitchen, and shutting himself up with the cook, she gutted them,\nand put them on the fire, as she had done the four others the day\nbefore. When they were fried on one side, and she had turned them\nupon the other, the kitchen wall again opened, and the same lady\ncame in with the rod in her hand, struck one of the fish, spoke\nto it as before, and all four gave her the same answer.\n\nAfter the four fish had answered the young lady, she overturned\nthe frying-pan with her rod, and retired into the wall. The grand\nvizier, being witness to what had passed: \"This is too wonderful\nand extraordinary,\" said he, \"to be concealed from the sultan; I\nwill inform him of this prodigy.\"\n\nThe sultan, being much surprised, sent immediately for the\nfisherman, and said to him, \"Friend, cannot you bring me four\nmore such fish?\" The fisherman replied, \"If your majesty will be\npleased to allow me three days, I will do it.\" Having obtained\nhis time, he went to the lake immediately, and at the first\nthrowing in of his net, he caught four fish, and brought them\ndirectly to the sultan; who was so much the more rejoiced, as he\ndid not expect them so soon, and ordered him four hundred pieces\nof gold. As soon as the sultan had the fish, he ordered them to\nbe carried into his closet, with all that was necessary for\nfrying them; and having shut himself up with the vizier, the\nminister gutted them, put them into the pan, and when they were\nfried on one side, turned them upon the other; then the wall of\nthe closet opened, but instead of the young lady, there came out\na black, in the habit of a slave, and of a gigantic stature, with\na great green staff in his hand. He advanced towards the pan, and\ntouching one of the fish with his staff, said with a terrible\nvoice, \"Fish, are you in your duty?\" At these words, the fish\nraised up their heads, and answered, \"Yes, yes; we are: if you\nreckon, we reckon; if you pay your debts, we pay ours; if you\nfly, we overcome, and are content.\"\n\nThe fish had no sooner finished these words, than the black threw\nthe pan into the middle of the closet, and reduced the fish to a\ncoal. Having done this, he retired fiercely, and entering again\ninto the aperture, it closed, and the wall appeared just as it\ndid before.\n\n\"After what I have seen,\" said the sultan to the vizier, \"it will\nnot be possible for me to be easy: these fish, without doubt,\nsignify something extraordinary.\" He sent for the fisherman, and\nwhen he came, said to him, \"Fisherman, the fish you have brought\nus, make me very uneasy; where did you catch them?\" \"Sir,\"\nanswered he, \"I fished for them in a lake situated betwixt four\nhills, beyond the mountain that we see from hence.\" \"Knowst thou\nnot that lake?\" said the sultan to the vizier. \"No,\" replied the\nvizier. \"I never so much as heard of it, although I have for\nsixty years hunted beyond that mountain.\" The sultan asked the\nfisherman, how far the lake might be from the palace? The\nfisherman answered, it was not above three hours journey; upon\nthis assurance, the sultan commanded all his court to take horse,\nand the fisherman served them for a guide. They all ascended the\nmountain, and at the foot of it they saw, to their great\nsurprise, a vast plain, that nobody had observed till then, and\nat last they came to the lake, which they found to be situated\nbetwixt four hills as the fisherman had described. The water was\nso transparent, that they observed all the fish to be like those\nwhich the fisherman had brought to the palace.\n\nThe sultan stood upon the bank of the lake, and after beholding\nthe fish with admiration, demanded of his courtiers, if it were\npossible they had never seen this lake, which was within so short\na distance of the town. They all answered, that they had never so\nmuch as heard of it.\n\n\"Since you all agree that you never heard of it, and as I am no\nless astonished than you are, at this novelty, I am resolved not\nto return to my palace till I learn how this lake came here, and\nwhy all the fish in it are of four colours.\" Having spoken thus,\nhe ordered his court to encamp; and immediately his pavilion and\nthe tents of his household were planted upon the banks of the\nlake.\n\nWhen night came, the sultan retired under his pavilion, and spoke\nto the grand vizier thus: \"Vizier, my mind is uneasy: this lake\ntransported hither; the black that appeared to us in my closet,\nand the fish that we heard speak; all these things so much excite\nmy curiosity, that I cannot resist my impatient desire to have it\nsatisfied. To this end, I am resolved to withdraw alone from the\ncamp, and I order you to keep my absence secret: stay in my\npavilion, and to-morrow morning, when the emirs and courtiers\ncome to attend my levee, send them away, and tell them, that I am\nsomewhat indisposed, and wish to be alone; and the following days\ntell them the same thing, till I return.\"\n\nThe grand vizier endeavoured to divert the sultan from this\ndesign; he represented to him the danger to which he might be\nexposed, and that all his labour might perhaps be in vain: but it\nwas to no purpose; the sultan was resolved. He put on a suit fit\nfor walking, and took his cimeter; and as soon as he found that\nall was quiet in the camp, went out alone, and passed over one of\nthe hills without much difficulty; he found the descent still\nmore easy, and when he came to the plain, walked on till the sun\narose, and then he saw before him, at a considerable distance, a\nvast building. He rejoiced at the sight, in hopes of receiving\nthere the information he sought. When he drew near, he found it\nwas a magnificent palace, or rather a strong castle, of black\npolished marble, and covered with fine steel, as smooth as glass.\nBeing highly pleased that he had so speedily met with something\nworthy his curiosity, he stopped before the front of the castle,\nand considered it with attention.\n\nHe then advanced towards the gate, which had two leaves, one of\nthem open; though he might immediately have entered, yet he\nthought it best to knock. This he did at first softly, and waited\nfor some time; but seeing no one, and supposing he had not been\nheard, he knocked harder the second time, and after that he\nknocked again and again, but no one yet appearing, he was\nexceedingly surprised; for he could not think that a castle in\nsuch repair was without inhabitants. \"If there be no one in it,\"\nsaid he to himself, \"I have nothing to fear; and if it be\ninhabited, I have wherewith to defend myself.\"\n\nAt last he entered, and when he came within the porch, he cried,\n\"Is there no one here to receive a stranger, who comes in for\nsome refreshment as he passes by?\" He repeated the same words two\nor three times; but though he spoke very loud, he was not\nanswered. The silence increased his astonishment: he came into a\nspacious court, and looked on every side for inhabitants, but\ndiscovered none.\n\nThe sultan entered the grand halls, which were hung with silk\ntapestry, the alcoves and sofas were covered with stuffs of\nMecca, and the porches with the richest stuffs of India, mixed\nwith gold and silver. He came afterwards into a superb saloon, in\nthe middle of which was a fountain, with a lion of massy gold at\neach angle: water issued from the mouths of the four lions; and\nas it fell, formed diamonds and pearls, resembling a jet d'eau,\nwhich springing from the middle of the fountain, rose nearly to\nthe top of a cupola painted in Arabesque.\n\nThe castle, on three sides, was encompassed by a garden, with\nparterres of flowers, shrubbery, and whatever could concur to\nembellish it; and to complete the beauty of the place, an\ninfinite number of birds filled the air with their harmonious\nnotes, and always remained there, nets being spread over the\ngarden, and fastened to the palace to confine them. The sultan\nwalked from apartment to apartment, where he found every thing\nrich and magnificent. Being tired with walking, he sat down in a\nverandah or arcade closet, which had a view over the garden,\nreflecting what he had already seen, and then beheld: when\nsuddenly he heard the voice of one complaining, in lamentable\ntones. He listened with attention, and heard distinctly these\nwords: \"O fortune! thou who wouldst not suffer me longer to enjoy\na happy lot, forbear to persecute me, and by a speedy death put\nan end to my sorrows. Alas! is it possible that I am still alive,\nafter so many torments as I have suffered!\"\n\nThe sultan rose up, advanced toward the place whence he heard the\nvoice; and coming to the door of a great hall, opened it, and saw\na handsome young man, richly habited, seated upon a throne raised\na little above the ground. Melancholy was painted on his\ncountenance. The sultan drew near, and saluted him; the young man\nreturned his salutation by an inclination of his head, not being\nable to rise, at the same time saying, \"My lord, I should rise to\nreceive you; but am hindered by sad necessity, and therefore hope\nyou will not be offended.\" \"My lord,\" replied the sultan, \"I am\nmuch obliged to you for having so good an opinion of me: as to\nthe reason of your not rising, whatever your apology be, I\nheartily accept it. Being drawn hither by your complaints, and\nafflicted by your grief, I come to offer you my help; would to\nGod that it lay in my power to ease you of your trouble! I would\ndo my utmost to effect it. I flatter myself that you will relate\nto me the history of your misfortunes; but inform me first of the\nmeaning of the lake near the palace, where the fish are of four\ncolours? whose this castle is? how you came to be here? and why\nyou are alone?\"\n\nInstead of answering these questions, the young man began to weep\nbitterly. \"How inconstant is\nfortune!\" cried he; \"she takes pleasure to pull down those she\nhad raised. Where are they who enjoy quietly the happiness which\nthey hold of her, and whose day is always clear and serene?\"\n\nThe sultan, moved with compassion to see him in such a condition,\nprayed him to relate the cause of his excessive grief. \"Alas! my\nlord,\" replied the young man, \"how is it possible but I should\ngrieve, and my eyes be inexhaustible fountains of tears?\" At\nthese words, lifting up his robe, he shewed the sultan that he\nwas a man only from the head to the girdle, and that the other\nhalf of his body was black marble.\n\nThe sultan was much surprised, when he saw the deplorable\ncondition of the young man. \"That which you shew me,\" said he,\n\"while it fills me with horror, excites my curiosity, so that I\nam impatient to hear your history, which, no doubt, must be\nextraordinary, and I am persuaded that the lake and the fish make\nsome part of it; therefore I conjure you to relate it. You will\nfind some comfort in so doing, since it is certain, that the\nunfortunate find relief in making known their distress.\" \"I will\nnot refuse your request,\" replied the young man, \"though I cannot\ncomply without renewing my grief. But I give you notice before\nhand, to prepare your ears, your mind, and even your eyes, for\nthings which surpass all that the imagination can conceive.\"\n\n\n\n\n            The History of the Young King of the Black Isles.\n\n\n\nYou must know that my father, named Mahmoud, was king of this\ncountry. This is the kingdom of the Black Isles, which takes its\nname from the four small neighbouring mountains; for these\nmountains were formerly isles: the capital where the king my\nfather resided was situated on the spot now occupied by the lake\nyou have seen. The sequel of my history will inform you of those\nchanges.\n\nThe king my father died when he was seventy years of age; I had\nno sooner succeeded him, than I married, and the lady I chose to\nshare the royal dignity with me, was my cousin. I had so much\nreason to be satisfied with her affection, and, on my part, loved\nher with so much tenderness, that nothing could surpass the\nharmony and pleasure of our union. This lasted five years, at the\nend of which time, I perceived the queen, my cousin, ceased to\ndelight in my attentions.\n\nOne day, after dinner, while she was at the bath, I found myself\ninclined to repose and lay down upon a sofa. Two of her ladies,\nwho were then in my chamber, came and sat down, one at my head,\nand the other at my feet, with fans in their hands to moderate\nthe heat, and to prevent the flies from disturbing me. They\nthought I was asleep, and spoke in whispers; but as I only closed\nmy eyes, I heard all their conversation.\n\nOne of them said to the other, \"Is not the queen wrong, not to\nlove so amiable a prince?\" \"Certainly,\" replied the other; \"I do\nnot understand the reason, neither can I conceive why she goes\nout every night, and leaves him alone!\" \"Is it possible that he\ndoes not perceive it?\" \"Alas!\" said the first, \"how should he?\nshe mixes every evening in his liquor, the juice of a certain\nherb, which makes him sleep so sound all night, that she has time\nto go where she pleases, and as day begins to appear, she comes\nand lies down by him again, and wakes him by the smell of\nsomething she puts under his nostrils.\"\n\nYou may guess, my lord, how much I was surprised at this\nconversation, and with what sentiments it inspired me; yet,\nwhatever emotion it excited, I had sufficient self-command to\ndissemble, and feigned to awake without having heard a word.\n\nThe queen returned from the bath, we supped together and she\npresented me with a cup full of such water as I was accustomed to\ndrink; but instead of putting it to my mouth, I went to a window\nthat was open, and threw out the water so quickly, that she did\nnot perceive it, and returned.\n\nWe went to bed together, and soon after, believing that I was\nasleep, she got up with so little precaution, that she said loud\nenough for me to hear her distinctly,  \"Sleep on, and may you\nnever wake again!\" She dressed herself, and went out of the\nchamber.\n\nAs soon as the queen my wife was gone, I dressed myself in haste,\ntook my cimeter, and followed her so quickly, that I soon heard\nthe sound of her feet before me, and then walked softly after\nher, for fear of being heard. She passed through several gates,\nwhich opened upon her pronouncing some magical words, and the\nlast she opened was that of the garden, which she entered. I\nstopt at this gate, that she might not perceive me, as she passed\nalong a parterre; then looking after her as far as the darkness\nof the night permitted, I saw her enter a little wood, whose\nwalks were guarded by thick palisadoes. I went thither by another\nway, and concealing myself behind the palisadoes of a long walk,\nI saw her walking there with a man.\n\nI did not fail to lend the most attentive ear to their discourse,\nand heard her address herself thus to her gallant: \"I do not\ndeserve to be reproached by you for want of diligence. You well\nknow the reason; but if all the proofs of affection I have\nalready given you be not sufficient to convince you of my\nsincerity, I am ready to give you others more decisive: you need\nbut command me, you know my power; I will, if you desire it,\nbefore sun-rise convert this great city, and this superb palace,\ninto frightful ruins, inhabited only by wolves, owls, and ravens.\nIf you would have me transport all the stones of those walls so\nsolidly built, beyond mount Caucasus, or the bounds of the\nhabitable world, speak but the word, and all shall be changed.\"\n\nAs the queen finished these words she and her lover came to the\nend of the walk, turned to enter another, and passed before me. I\nhad already drawn my cimeter, and her lover being next me, I\nstruck him on the neck, and brought him to the ground. I\nconcluded I had killed him, and therefore retired speedily\nwithout making myself known to the queen, whom I chose to spare,\nbecause she was my kinswoman.\n\nThe wound I had given her lover was mortal; but by her\nenchantments she preserved him in an existence in which he could\nnot be said to be either dead or alive. As I crossed the garden\nto return to the palace, I heard the queen loudly lamenting, and\njudging by her cries how much she was grieved, I was pleased that\nI had spared her life.\n\nAs soon as I had reached my apartment, I went to bed, and being\nsatisfied with having punished the villain who had injured me,\nfell asleep; and when I awoke next morning, found the queen\nlying. I cannot tell you whether she slept or not; but I arose,\nwent to my closet, and dressed myself. I afterwards held my\ncouncil. At my return, the queen, clad in mourning, her hair\ndishevelled, and part of it torn off, presented herself before\nme, and said; \"I come to beg your majesty not to be surprised to\nsee me in this condition. My heavy affliction is occasioned by\nintelligence of three distressing events which I have just\nreceived.\" \"Alas! what are they, madam?\" said I. \"The death of\nthe queen my dear mother,\" she replied, \"that of the king my\nfather killed in battle, and of one of my brothers, who has\nfallen down a precipice.\"\n\nI was not displeased that she used this pretext to conceal the\ntrue cause of her grief, and I concluded she had not suspected me\nof being the author of her lover's death. \"Madam,\" said I, \"so\nfar from blaming, I assure you I heartily commiserate your\nsorrow. I should feel surprise if you were insensible to such\nheavy calamities: weep on; your tears are so many proofs of your\ntenderness; but I hope that time and reflection will moderate\nyour grief.\"\n\nShe retired into her apartment, where, giving herself wholly up\nto sorrow, she spent a whole year in mourning and lamentation. At\nthe end of that period, she begged permission to erect a burying\nplace for herself, within the bounds of the palace, where she\nwould continue, she told me, to the end of her days: I consented,\nand she built a stately edifice, crowned by a cupola, which may\nbe seen from hence, and called it the Palace of Tears. When it\nwas finished, she caused her lover to be conveyed thither, from\nthe place to which she had caused him to be carried the night I\nwounded him: she had hitherto prevented his dying, by potions\nwhich she had administered to him; and she continued to convey\nthem to him herself every day after he came to the Palace of\nTears.\n\nYet, with all her enchantments, she could not cure him; he was\nnot only unable to walk or support himself, but had also lost the\nuse of his speech, and exhibited no sign of life except in his\nlooks. Though the queen had no other consolation but to see him,\nand to say to him all that her senseless passion could inspire,\nyet every day she made him two long visits. I was well apprised\nof this, but pretended ignorance.\n\nOne day my curiosity induced me to go to the Palace of Tears, to\nobserve how the princess employed herself, and from a place where\nshe could not see me, I heard her thus address her lover: \"I am\nafflicted to the highest degree to behold you in this condition;\nI am as sensible as yourself of the tormenting pain you endure;\nbut, dear soul, I am continually speaking to you, and you do not\nanswer me: how long will you remain silent? Speak only one word:\nalas! the sweetest moments of my life are these I spend here in\npartaking of your grief. I cannot live at a distance from you,\nand would prefer the pleasure of having you always before me, to\nthe empire of the universe.\"\n\nAt these words, which were several times interrupted by her sighs\nand sobs, I lost all patience: and discovering myself, came up to\nher, and said, \"Madam, you have wept enough, it is time to give\nover this sorrow, which dishonours both; you have too much\nforgotten what you owe to me and to yourself.\" \"Sire,\" said she,\n\"if you have any kindness or compassion for me left, I beseech\nyou to put no restraint upon me; allow me to indulge my grief,\nwhich it is impossible for time to assuage.\"\n\nWhen I perceived that my remonstrance, instead of restoring her\nto a sense of duty, served only to increase her anguish, I gave\nover and retired. She continued every day to visit her lover, and\nfor two whole years abandoned herself to grief and despair.\n\nI went a second time to the Palace of Tears, while she was there.\nI concealed myself again, and heard her thus address her lover:\n\"It is now three years since you spoke one word to me; you answer\nnot the proofs I give you of my love by my sighs and\nlamentations. Is it from insensibility, or contempt? O tomb! hast\nthou destroyed that excess of affection which he bare me? Hast\nthou closed those eyes that evinced so much love, and were all my\ndelight? No, no, this I cannot think. Tell me rather, by what\nmiracle thou becamest the depositary of the rarest treasure the\nworld ever contained.\"\n\nI must confess, my lord, I was enraged at these expressions; for,\nin truth, this beloved, this adored mortal, was by no means what\nyou would imagine him to have been. He was a black Indian, one of\nthe original natives of this country. I was so enraged at the\nlanguage addressed to him, that I discovered myself, and\napostrophising the tomb in my turn; I cried, \"O tomb! why dost\nnot thou swallow up that monster so revolting to human nature, or\nrather why dost not thou swallow up both the lover and his\nmistress?\"\n\nI had scarcely uttered these words, when the queen, who sat by\nthe black, rose up like a fury. \"Miscreant!\" said she \"thou art\nthe cause of my grief; do not think I am ignorant of this, I have\ndissembled too long. It was thy barbarous hand that brought the\nobjets of my fondness into this lamentable condition; and thou\nhast the cruelty to come and insult a despairing lover.\" \"Yes,\"\nsaid I, in a rage, \"it was I that chastised that monster,\naccording to his desert; I ought to have treated thee in the same\nmanner; I now repent that I did not; thou hast too long abused my\ngoodness.\" As I spoke these words, I drew out my cimeter, and\nlifted up my hand to punish her; but regarding me stedfastly, she\nsaid with a jeering smile, \"Moderate thy anger.\" At the same\ntime, she pronounced words I did not understand; and afterwards\nadded, \"By virtue of my enchantments, I command thee to become\nhalf marble and half man.\" Immediately, my lord, I became what\nyou see, a dead man among the living, and a living man among the\ndead.\n\nAfter the cruel sorceress, unworthy of the name of queen, had\nmetamorphosed me thus, and brought me into this hall, by another\nenchantment she destroyed my capital, which was very flourishing\nand populous; she annihilated the houses, the public places and\nmarkets, and reduced the site of the whole to the lake and desert\nplain you have seen; the fishes of four colours in the lake are\nthe four kinds of inhabitants of different religions, which the\ncity contained. The white are the Moosulmauns; the red, the\nPersians, who worship fire; the blue, the Christians and the\nyellow, the Jews. The four little hills were the four islands\nthat gave name to this kingdom. I learned all this from the\nenchantress, who, to add to my affliction, related to me these\neffects of her rage. But this is not all; her revenge not being\nsatisfied with the destruction of my dominions, and the\nmetamorphosis of my person, she comes every day, and gives me\nover my naked shoulders a hundred lashes with a whip until I am\ncovered with blood. When she has finished this part of my\npunishment, she throws over me a coarse stuff of goat's hair, and\nover that this robe of brocade, not to honour, but to mock me.\n\nWhen he came to this part of the narrative, the young king could\nnot restrain his tears; and the sultan was himself so affected by\nthe relation, that he could not find utterance for any words of\nconsolation. Shortly after, the young king, lifting up his eyes\nto heaven, exclaimed, \"Mighty creator of all things, I submit\nmyself to thy judgments, and to the decrees of thy providence: I\nendure my calamities with patience, since it is thy will things\nshould be as they are; but I hope thy infinite goodness will\nultimately reward me.\"\n\nThe sultan, greatly moved by the recital of this affecting story,\nand anxious to avenge the sufferings of the unfortunate prince,\nsaid to him, \"Inform me whither this perfidious sorceress\nretires, and where may be found her vile paramour, who is\nentombed before his death.\" \"My lord,\" replied the prince, \"her\nlover, as I have already told you, is lodged in the Palace of\nTears, in a superb tomb constructed in the form of a dome: this\npalace joins the castle on the side in which the gate is placed.\nAs to the queen, I cannot tell you precisely whither she retires,\nbut every day at sun-rise she goes to visit her paramour, after\nhaving executed her bloody vengeance upon me; and you see I am\nnot in a condition to defend myself. She carries to him the\npotion with which she had hitherto prevented his dying, and\nalways complains of his never having spoken to her since he was\nwounded.\"\n\n\"Prince,\" said the sultan, \"your condition can never be\nsufficiently deplored: no one can be more sensibly affected by\nyour misfortunes than I am. Never did any thing so extraordinary\nbefall any man, and those who write your history will have the\nadvantage of relating what surpasses all that has hitherto been\nrecorded. One thing only is wanting; the revenge to which you are\nentitled, and I will omit nothing in my power to effect it.\"\n\nIn his subsequent conversation with the young prince, the sultan\ntold him who he was, and for what purpose he had entered the\ncastle; and afterwards informed him of a mode of revenge which he\nhad devised. They agreed upon the measures they were to take for\naccomplishing their design, but deferred the execution of it till\nthe following day. In the mean time, the night being far spent,\nthe sultan took some rest; but the young prince passed the night\nas usual, without sleep, having never slept since he was\nenchanted, still indulging some hopes of being speedily delivered\nfrom his misery.\n\nNext morning the sultan arose with the dawn, and prepared to\nexecute his design, hiding his upper garment, which might\nencumber him; he then proceeded to the Palace of Tears. He found\nit lighted up with an infinite number of flambeaux of white wax,\nand perfumed by a delicious scent issuing from several censers of\nfine gold of admirable workmanship. As soon as he perceived the\nbed where the black lay, he drew his cimeter, and without\nresistance deprived him of his wretched life, dragged his corpse\ninto the court of the castle, and threw it into a well. After\nthis, he went and lay down in the black's bed, placed his cimeter\nunder the covering, and waited to complete his design.\n\nThe queen arrived shortly after. She first went into the chamber\nof her husband, the king of the Black Islands, stripped him, and\nwith unexampled barbarity gave him a hundred stripes. The\nunfortunate prince filled the palace with his lamentations, and\nconjured her in the most affecting tone to take pity on him; but\nthe cruel wretch ceased not till she had given the usual number\nof blows. \"You had no compassion on my lover,\" said she, \"and you\nare to expect none from me.\"\n\nAfter the enchantress had given the king, her husband, a hundred\nblows with the whip, she put on again his covering of goat's\nhair, and his brocade gown over all; she went afterwards to the\nPalace of Tears, and as she entered renewed her tears and\nlamentations: then approaching the bed, where she thought her\nparamour lay, \"What cruelty,\" cried she, \"was it to disturb the\nsatisfaction so tender and passionate a lover as I am? O cruel\nprince, who reproachest me that I am inhuman, when I make thee\nfeel the effects of my resentment! Does not thy barbarity surpass\nmy vengeance? Traitor! in attempting the life of the object which\nI adore, hast thou not robbed me of mine? Alas!\" said she,\naddressing herself to the sultan, conceiving him to be the black\n\"My sun, my life, will you always be silent! Are you resolved to\nlet me die, without affording me the comfort of hearing again\nfrom your own lips that you love me? My soul, speak one word to\nme at least, I conjure you.\"\n\nThe sultan, as if he had awaked out of a deep sleep, and\ncounterfeiting the pronunciation of the blacks, answered the\nqueen with a grave tone, \"There is no strength or power but in\nGod alone, who is almighty.\" At these words the enchantress, who\ndid not expect them, uttered a loud exclamation of joy. \"My dear\nlord,\" cried she, \"do not I deceive myself; is it certain that I\nhear you, and that you speak to me?\" \"Unhappy woman,\" said the\nsultan, \"art thou worthy that I should answer thee?\" \"Alas!\"\nreplied the queen, \"why do you reproach me thus?\" \"The cries,\"\nreturned the sultan, \"the groans and tears of thy husband, whom\nthou treatest every day with so much indignity and barbarity,\nprevent my sleeping night or day. Hadst thou disenchanted him, I\nshould long since have been cured, and have recovered the use of\nmy speech. This is the cause of my silence, of which you\ncomplain.\" \"Well,\" said the enchantress, \"to pacify you, I am\nready to execute your commands; would you have me restore him?\"\n\"Yes,\" replied the sultan; \"make haste to set him at liberty,\nthat I be no longer disturbed by his lamentations.\"\n\nThe enchantress went immediately out of the Palace of Tears; she\ntook a cup of water, and pronounced some words over it, which\ncaused it to boil, as if it had been on the fire. She afterwards\nproceeded to the young king her husband, and threw the water upon\nhim, saying, \"If the creator of all things did form thee as thou\nart at present; or if he be angry with thee, do not change; but\nif thou art in that condition merely by virtue of my\nenchantments, resume thy natural shape, and become what thou west\nbefore.\" She had scarcely spoken these words, when the prince,\nfinding himself restored to his former condition, rose up and\nreturned thanks to God. The enchantress then said to him, \"Get\nthee from this castle, and never return on pain of death.\" The\nyoung king, yielding to necessity, went away from the\nenchantress, without replying a word; and retired to a remote\nplace, where he patiently awaited the event of the design which\nthe sultan had so happily begun. Meanwhile, the enchantress\nreturned to the Palace of Tears, and supposing that she still\nspoke to the black, said, \"Dear love, I have done what you\nrequired; nothing now prevents your rising and giving me the\nsatisfaction of which I have so long been deprived.\"\n\nThe sultan, still counterfeiting the pronunciation of the blacks,\nsaid, \"What you have now done is by no means sufficient for my\ncure; you have only removed a part of the evil; you must cut it\nup by the root.\" \"My lovely black,\" resumed the queen, \"what do\nyou mean by the root?\" \"Wretched woman,\" replied the sultan,\n\"understand you not that I allude to the town, and its\ninhabitants, and the four islands, destroyed by thy enchantments?\nThe fish every night at midnight raise their heads out of the\nlake, and cry for vengeance against thee and me. This is the true\ncause of the delay of my cure. Go speedily, restore things to\ntheir former state, and at thy return I will give thee my hand,\nand thou shalt help me to arise.\"\n\nThe enchantress, inspired with hope from these words, cried out\nin a transport of joy, \"My heart, my soul, you shall soon be\nrestored to your health, for I will immediately do as you command\nme.\" Accordingly she went that instant, and when she came to the\nbrink of the lake, she took a little water in her hand, and\nsprinkling it, had no sooner pronounced some words over the fish\nand the lake, than the city was immediately restored. The fish\nbecame men, women, and children; Mahummedans, Christians,\nPersians, or Jews; freemen or slaves, as they were before: every\none having recovered his natural form. The houses and shops were\nimmediately filled with their inhabitants, who found all things\nas they were before the enchantment. The sultan's numerous\nretinue, who found themselves encamped in the largest square,\nwere astonished to see themselves in an instant in the middle of\na large, handsome, well-peopled city.\n\nTo return to the enchantress: As soon as she had effected this\nwonderful change, she returned with all expedition to the Palace\nof Tears, that she might receive her reward. \"My dear lord,\"\ncried she, as she entered, \"I come to rejoice with you in the\nreturn of your health: I have done all that you required of me,\nthen pray rise, and give me your hand.\" \"Come near,\" said the\nsultan, still counterfeiting the pronunciation of the blacks. She\ndid so. \"You are not near enough,\" he continued, \"approach\nnearer.\" She obeyed. He then rose up, and seizing her by the arm\nso suddenly, that she had not time to discover him, he with a\nblow of his cimeter cut her in two, so that one half fell one way\nand the other another. This done he left the body on the spot,\nand going out of the Palace of Tears, went to seek the young king\nof the Black Isles, who waited for him with great impatience.\nWhen he found him, \"Prince,\" said he, embracing him, \"rejoice;\nyou have now nothing to fear; your cruel enemy is dead.\"\n\nThe young prince returned thanks to the sultan in a manner that\nsufficiently the sincerity of his gratitude, and in return wished\nhim long life and happiness. \"You may henceforward,\" said the\nsultan, \"dwell peaceably in your capital, unless you will\naccompany me to mine, which is near: you shall there be welcome,\nand have as much honour and respect shown you as if you were in\nyour own kingdom.\" \"Potent monarch, to whom I am so much\nindebted,\" replied the king, \"you think then that you are near\nyour capital?\" \"Yes,\" said the sultan, \"I know it is not above\nfour or five hours' journey.\" \"It will take you a whole year to\nreturn,\" said the prince \"I do indeed believe that you came\nhither from your capital in the time you mention, because mine\nwas enchanted; but since the enchantment is taken off, things are\nchanged: however, this shall not prevent my following you, were\nit to the utmost corners of the earth. You are my deliverer, and\nthat I may give you proofs of my acknowledging this during my\nwhole life, I am willing to accompany you, and to leave my\nkingdom without regret.\"\n\nThe sultan was extremely surprised to understand that he was so\nfar from his dominions, and could not imagine how it could be.\nBut the young king of the Black Islands convinced him beyond a\npossibility of doubt. Then the sultan replied, \"It is no matter;\nthe trouble of returning to my own country is sufficiently\nrecompensed by the satisfaction of having obliged you, and by\nacquiring you for a son; for since you will do me the honour to\naccompany me, as I have no child, I look upon you as such, and\nfrom this moment appoint you my heir and successor.\"\n\nThe conversation between the sultan and the king of the Black\nIslands concluded with most affectionate embraces, after which\nthe young prince employed himself in making preparations for his\njourney, which were finished in three weeks, to the great regret\nof his court and subjects, who agreed to receive at his hands one\nof his nearest kindred for their monarch.\n\nAt length, the sultan and the young prince began their journey,\nwith a hundred camels laden with inestimable riches from the\ntreasury of the young king, followed by fifty handsome gentlemen\non horseback, perfectly well mounted and dressed They had a\npleasant journey; and when the sultan, who had sent couriers to\ngive advice of his delay, and of the adventure which had\noccasioned it, approached his capital, the principal officers\ncame to receive him, and to assure him that his long absence had\noccasioned no alteration in his empire. The inhabitants also came\nout in great crowds, received him with acclamations, and made\npublic rejoicings for several days.\n\nThe day after his arrival the sultan gave all his courtiers a\nvery ample account of the circumstances, which, contrary to his\nexpectation, had detained him so long. He acquainted them with\nhis having adopted the king of the Four Black Islands, who was\nwilling to leave a great kingdom, to accompany and live with him;\nand, in reward for their loyalty, he made each of them presents\naccording to their rank.\n\nAs for the fisherman, as he was the first cause of the\ndeliverance of the young prince, the sultan gave him a plentiful\nfortune, which made him and his family happy the rest of their\ndays.\n\n\n\n\n             STORY OF THE THREE CALENDERS, SONS OF\n           SULTANS; AND OF THE FIVE LADIES OF BAGDAD.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of Caliph Haroon al Rusheed, there was at Bagdad, a\nporter, who, notwithstanding his mean and laborious business, was\na fellow of wit and good humour. One morning as he was at the\nplace where he usually plyed, with a great basket, waiting for\nemployment, a handsome young lady, covered with a great muslin\nveil, accosted him, and said with a pleasant air, \"Hark you,\nporter, take your basket and follow me.\" The porter, charmed with\nthese words, pronounced in so agreeable a manner, took his basket\nimmediately, set it on his head, and followed the lady,\nexclaiming, \"O happy day, O day of good luck!\"\n\nIn a short time the lady stopped before a gate that was shut, and\nknocked: a Christian, with a venerable long white beard, opened\nit; and she put money into his hand, without speaking; but the\nChristian, who knew what she wanted, went in, and in a little\ntime, brought a large jug of excellent wine. \"Take this jug,\"\nsaid the lady to the porter, \"and put it in your basket.\" This\nbeing done, she commanded him to follow her; and as she\nproceeded, the porter continued his exclamation, \"O happy day!\nThis is a day of agreeable surprise and joy.\"\n\nThe lady stopped at a fruit-shop, where she bought several sorts\nof apples, apricots, peaches, quinces, lemons, citrons, oranges;\nmyrtles, sweet basil, lilies, jessamin, and some other flowers\nand fragrant plants; she bid the porter put all into his basket,\nand follow her. As she went by a butcher's stall, she made him\nweigh her twenty five pounds of his best meat, which she ordered\nthe porter to put also into his basket. At another shop, she took\ncapers, tarragon, cucumbers, sassafras, and other herbs,\npreserved in vinegar: at another, she bought pistachios, walnuts,\nfilberts, almonds, kernels of pine-apples, and such other fruits;\nand at another, all sorts of confectionery. When the porter had\nput all these things into his basket, and perceived that it grew\nfull, \"My good lady,\" said he, \"you ought to have given me notice\nthat you had so much provision to carry, and then I would have\nbrought a horse, or rather a camel, for the purpose; for if you\nbuy ever so little more, I shall not be able to bear it.\" The\nlady laughed at the fellow's pleasant humour, and ordered him\nstill to follow her.\n\nShe then went to a druggist, where she furnished herself with all\nmanner of sweet-scented waters, cloves, musk, pepper, ginger, and\na great piece of ambergris, and several other Indian spices; this\nquite filled the porter's basket, and she ordered him to follow\nher. They walked till they came to a magnificent house, whose\nfront was adorned with fine columns, and had a gate of ivory.\nThere they stopped, and the lady knocked softly.\n\nWhile the young lady and the porter waited for the opening of the\ngate, the porter made a thousand reflections. He wondered that\nsuch a fine lady should come abroad to buy provisions; he\nconcluded she could not be a slave, her air was too noble, and\ntherefore he thought she must needs be a woman of quality. Just\nas he was about to ask her some questions upon this head, another\nlady came to open the gate, and appeared to him so beautiful,\nthat he was perfectly surprised, or rather so much struck with\nher charms, that he had nearly suffered his basket to fall, for\nhe had never seen any beauty that equalled her.\n\nThe lady who brought the porter with her, perceiving his\ndisorder, and knowing the cause, was greatly diverted, and took\nso much pleasure in watching his looks, that she forgot the gate\nwas opened. \"Pray, Sister,\" said the beautiful portress, \"come\nin, what do you stay for? Do not you see this poor man so heavy\nladen, that he is scarcely able to stand.\"\n\nWhen she entered with the porter, the lady who had opened the\ngate shut it, and all three, after having passed through a\nsplendid vestibule, entered a spacious court, encompassed with an\nopen gallery, which had a communication with several apartments\nof extraordinary magnificence. At the farther end of the court\nthere was a platform, richly furnished, with a throne of amber in\nthe middle, supported by four columns of ebony, enriched with\ndiamonds and pearls of an extraordinary size, and covered with\nred satin embroidered with Indian gold of admirable workmanship.\nIn the middle of the court there was a fountain, faced with white\nmarble, and full of clear water, which was copiously supplied out\nof the mouth of a lion of brass.\n\nThe porter, though heavy laden, could not but admire the\nmagnificence of this house, and the excellent order in which\nevery thing was placed; but what particularly captivated his\nattention, was a third lady, who seemed to be more beautiful than\nthe second, and was seated upon the throne just mentioned; she\ndescended as soon as she saw the two others, and advanced towards\nthem: he judged by the respect which the other ladies showed her,\nthat she was the chief, in which he was not mistaken. This lady\nwas called Zobeide, she who opened the gate Safie, and she who\nwent to buy the provisions was named Amene.\n\nZobeide said to the two ladies, when she came to them, \"Sisters,\ndo not you see that this honest man is ready to sink under his\nburden, why do not you ease him of it?\" Then Amene and Safie took\nthe basket, the one before and the other behind; Zobeide also\nassisted, and all three together set it on the ground; then\nemptied it; and when they had done, the beautiful Amene took out\nmoney, and paid the porter liberally.\n\nThe porter was well satisfied with the money he had received; but\nwhen he ought to have departed, he could not summon sufficient\nresolution for the purpose. He was chained to the spot by the\npleasure of beholding three such beauties, who appeared to him\nequally charming; for Amene having now laid aside her veil,\nproved to be as handsome as either of the others. What surprised\nhim most was, that he saw no man about the house, yet most of the\nprovisions he had brought in, as the dry fruits, and the several\nsorts of cakes and confections, were adapted chiefly for those\nwho could drink and make merry.\n\nZobeide thought at first, that the porter staid only to take\nbreath, but perceiving that he remained too long, \"What do you\nwait for,\" said she, \"are you not sufficiently paid?\" And turning\nto Amene, she continued, \"Sister, give him something more, that\nhe may depart satisfied.\" \"Madam,\" replied the porter, \"it is not\nthat which detains me, I am already more than paid for my\nservices; I am sensible that I act rudely in staying longer than\nI ought, but I hope you will the goodness to pardon me, when I\ntell you, that I am astonished not to see a man with three ladies\nof such extraordinary beauty: and you know that a company of\nwomen without men is as melancholy as a company of men without\nwomen.\" To this he added several other pleasant things, to prove\nwhat he said, and did not forget the Bagdad proverb, \"That the\ntable is not completely furnished, except there be four in\ncompany:\" and so concluded, that since they were but three, they\nwanted another.\n\nThe ladies fell a laughing at the porter's reasoning; after which\nZobeide gravely addressed him, \"Friend, you presume rather too\nmuch; and though you do not deserve that I should enter into any\nexplanation with you, I have no objection to inform you that we\nare three sisters, who transact our affairs with so much secrecy\nthat no one knows any thing of them. We have but too much reason\nto be cautious of acquainting indiscreet persons with our\ncounsel; and a good author that we have read, says, 'Keep thy own\nsecret, and do not reveal it to any one. He that makes his secret\nknown it no longer its master. If thy own breast cannot keep thy\ncounsel, how canst thou expect the breast of another to be more\nfaithful?'\"\n\n\"My ladies,\" replied the porter, \"by your very air, I judged at\nfirst that you were persons of extraordinary merit, and I\nconceive that I am not mistaken. Though fortune has not given me\nwealth enough to raise me above my mean profession, yet I have\nnot omitted to cultivate my mind as much as I could, by reading\nbooks of science and history; and allow me, I beseech you, to\nsay, that I have also read in another author a maxim which I have\nalways happily followed: 'We conceal our secret from such persons\nonly as are known to all the world to want discretion, and would\nabuse our confidence; but we hesitate not to discover it to the\nprudent, because we know that with them it is safe.' A secret in\nmy keeping is as secure as if it were locked up in a cabinet, the\nkey of which is lost, and the door sealed up.\"\n\nZobeide perceiving that the porter was not deficient in wit, but\nthinking he wished to share in their festivity, answered him,\nsmiling, \"You know that we have been making preparations to\nregale ourselves, and that, as you have seen, at a considerable\nexpense; it is not just that you should now partake of the\nentertainment without contributing to the cost.\" The beautiful\nSafie seconded her sister, and said to the porter, \"Friend, have\nyou never heard the common saying, 'If you bring something with\nyou, you shall carry something away, but if you bring nothing,\nyou shall depart empty?'\"\n\nThe porter, notwithstanding his rhetoric, must, in all\nprobability, have retired in confusion, if Amene had not taken\nhis part, and said to Zobeide and Safie, \"My dear sisters, I\nconjure you to let him remain; I need not tell you that he will\nafford us some diversion, of this you perceive he is capable: I\nassure you, had it not been for his readiness, his alacrity, and\ncourage to follow me, I could not have done so much business, in\nso short a time; besides, where I to repeat to you all the\nobliging expressions he addressed to me by the way, you would not\nfeel surprised at my taking his part.\"\n\nAt these words of Amene, the porter was so transported with joy,\nthat he fell on his knees, kissed the ground at her feet, and\nraising himself up, said, \"Most beautiful lady, you began my good\nfortune to-day, and now you complete it by this generous conduct;\nI cannot adequately express my acknowledgments. As to the rest,\nladies,\" said he, addressing himself to all the three sisters,\n\"since you do me so great an honour, do not think that I will\nabuse it, or look upon myself as deserving of the distinction.\nNo, I shall always look upon myself as one of your most humble\nslaves.\" When he had spoken these words he would have returned\nthe money he had received, but Zobeide ordered him to keep it.\n\"What we have once given,\" said she, \"to reward those who have\nserved us, we never take back. My friend, in consenting to your\nstaying with us, I must forewarn you, that it is not the only\ncondition we impose upon you that you keep inviolable the secret\nwe may entrust to you, but we also require you to attend to the\nstrictest rules of good manners.\" During this address, the\ncharming Amene put off the apparel she went abroad with, and\nfastened her robe to her girdle that she might act with the\ngreater freedom; she then brought in several sorts of meat, wine,\nand cups of gold. Soon after, the ladies took their places, and\nmade the porter sit down by them, who was overjoyed to see\nhimself seated with three such admirable beauties. After they had\neaten a little, Amene took a cup, poured some wine into it, and\ndrank first herself; she then filled the cup to her sisters, who\ndrank in course as they sat; and at last she filled it the fourth\ntime for the porter, who, as he received it, kissed Amene's hand;\nand before he drank, sung a song to this purpose. That as the\nwind bears with it the sweet scents of the perfumed places over\nwhich it passes, so the wine he was going to drink, coming from\nher fair hands, received a more exquisite flavour than it\nnaturally possessed. The song pleased the ladies much, and each\nof them afterwards sung one in her turn. In short, they were all\nvery pleasant during the repast, which lasted a considerable\ntime, and nothing was wanting that could serve to render it\nagreeable. The day drawing to a close, Safie spoke in the name of\nthe three ladies, and said to the porter, \"Arise, it is time for\nyou to depart.\" But the porter, not willing to leave good\ncompany, cried, \"Alas! ladies, whither do you command me to go in\nmy present condition? What with drinking and your society, I am\nquite beside myself. I shall never find the way home; allow me\nthis night to recover myself, in any place you please, but go\nwhen I will, I shall leave the best part of myself behind.\"\n\nAmene pleaded the second time for the porter, saying, \"Sisters,\nhe is right, I am pleased with the request, he having already\ndiverted us so well; and, if you will take my advice, or if you\nlove me as much as I think you do, let us keep him for the\nremainder of the night.\" \"Sister,\" answered Zobeide, \"we can\nrefuse you nothing;\" and then turning to the porter, said, \"We\nare willing once more to grant your request, but upon this new\ncondition, that, whatever we do in your presence relating either\nto ourselves or any thing else, you do not so much as open your\nmouth to ask the reason; for if you put any questions respecting\nwhat does not concern you, you may chance to hear what you will\nnot like; beware therefore, and be not too inquisitive to pry\ninto the motives of our actions.\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the porter, \"I promise to abide by this\ncondition, that you shall have no cause to complain, and far less\nto punish my indiscretion; my tongue shall be immovable on this\noccasion, and my eye like a looking-glass, which retains nothing\nof the objets that is set before it.\" \"To shew you,\" said Zobeide\nwith a serious countenance, \"that what we demand of you is not a\nnew thing among us, read what is written over our gate on the\ninside.\"\n\nThe porter went and read these words, written in large characters\nof gold: \"He who speaks of things that do not concern him, shall\nhear things that will not please him.\" Returning again to the\nthree sisters, \"Ladies,\" said he, \"I swear to you that you shall\nnever hear me utter a word respecting what does not relate to me,\nor wherein you may have any concern.\"\n\nThese preliminaries being settled, Amene brought in supper, and\nafter she had lighted up the room with tapers, made of aloe-wood\nand ambergris, which yield a most agreeable perfume, as well as a\ndelicate light, she sat down with her sisters and the porter.\nThey began again to eat and drink, to sing, and repeat verses.\nThe ladies diverted themselves in intoxicating the porter, under\npretext of making him drink their healths, and the repast was\nenlivened by reciprocal flashes of wit. When they were all in the\nbest humour possible, they heard a knocking at the gate.\n\nWhen the ladies heard the knocking, they all three got up to open\nthe gate; but Safie was the nimblest; which her sisters\nperceiving, they resumed their seats. Safie returning, said,\n\"Sisters, we have a very fine opportunity of passing a good part\nof the night pleasantly, and if you agree with me, you will not\nsuffer it to go by. There are three calenders at our gate, at\nleast they appear to be such by their habit; but what will\nsurprise you is, they are all three blind of the right eye, and\nhave their heads, beards, and eye-brows shaved. They say, they\nare but just come to Bagdad, where they never were before; it\nbeing night, and not knowing where to find a lodging, they\nhappened by chance to knock at this gate, and pray us, for the\nlove of heaven, to have compassion on them, and receive them into\nthe house. They care not what place we put them in, provided they\nmay be under shelter; they would be satisfied with a stable. They\nare young and handsome, and seem not to want spirit. But I cannot\nwithout laughing think of their amusing and uniform figure.\" Here\nSafie laughed so heartily, that the two sisters and the porter\ncould not refrain from laughing also. \"My dear sisters,\" said\nshe, \"you will permit them to come in; it is impossible but that\nwith such persons as I have described them to be, we shall finish\nthe day better than we began it; they will afford us diversion\nenough, and put us to no charge, because they desire shelter only\nfor this night, and resolve to leave us as soon as day appears.\"\n\nZobeide and Amene made some difficulty to grant Safie's request,\nfor reasons which she herself well knew. But being very desirous\nto obtain this favour, they could not refuse her; \"Go then,\" said\nZobeide, \"and bring them in, but do not forget to acquaint them\nthat they must not speak of any thing which does not concern\nthem, and cause them to read what is written over the gate.\"\nSafie ran out with joy, and in a little time after returned with\nthe three calenders.\n\nAt their entrance they made a profound obeisance to the ladies,\nwho rose up to receive them, and told them courteously that they\nwere welcome, that they were glad of the opportunity to oblige\nthem, and to contribute towards relieving the fatigues of their\njourney, and at last invited them to sit down with them.\n\nThe magnificence of the place, and the civility they received,\ninspired the calenders with high respect for the ladies: but,\nbefore they sat down, having by chance cast their eyes upon the\nporter, whom they saw clad almost like those devotees with whom\nthey have continual disputes respecting several points of\ndiscipline, because they never shave their beards nor eye-brows;\none of them said, \"I believe we have got here one of our revolted\nArabian brethren.\"\n\nThe porter having his head warm with wine, took offence and with\na fierce look, without stirring from his place, answered, \"Sit\nyou down, and do not meddle with what does not concern you: have\nyou not read the inscription over the gate? Do not pretend to\nmake people live after your fashion, but follow ours.\"\n\n\"Honest man,\" said the calender, \"do not put yourself in a\npassion; we should be sorry to give you the least occasion; on\nthe contrary, we are ready to receive your commands.\" Upon which,\nto put an end to the dispute, the ladies interposed, and pacified\nthem. When the calenders were seated, the ladies served them with\nmeat; and Safie, being highly pleased with them, did not let them\nwant for wine.\n\nAfter the calenders had eaten and drunk liberally, they signified\nto the ladies, that they wished to entertain them with a concert\nof music, if they had any instruments in the house, and would\ncause them to be brought: they willingly accepted the proposal,\nand fair Safie going to fetch them, returned again in a moment,\nand presented them with a flute of her own country fashion,\nanother of the Persian, and a tabor. Each man took the instrument\nhe liked, and all three together began to play a tune The ladies,\nwho knew the words of a merry song that suited the air, joined\nthe concert with their voices; but the words of the song made\nthem now and then stop, and fall into excessive laughter.\n\nIn the height of this diversion, when the company were in the\nmidst of their jollity, a knocking was heard at the gate; Safie\nleft off singing, and went to see who it was. The caliph Haroon\nal Rusheed was frequently in the habit of walking abroad in\ndisguise by night, that he might discover if every thing was\nquiet in the city, and see that no disorders were committed.\n\nThis night the caliph went out on his rambles, accompanied by\nJaaffier his grand vizier, and Mesrour the chief of the eunuchs\nof his palace, all disguised in merchants' habits; and passing\nthrough the street where the three ladies dwelt, he heard the\nsound of music and fits of loud laughter; upon which he commanded\nthe vizier, to knock, as he wished to enter to ascertain the\nreason. The vizier, in vain represented to him that the noise\nproceeded from some women who were merry-making, that without\nquestion their heads were warm with wine, and that it would not\nbe proper he should expose himself to be affronted by them:\nbesides, it was not yet an unlawful hour, and therefore he ought\nnot to disturb them in their mirth. \"No matter,\" said the caliph,\n\"I command you to knock.\" Jaaffier complied; Safie opened the\ngate, and the vizier, perceiving by the light in her hand, that\nshe was an incomparable beauty, with a very low salutation said,\n\"We are three merchants of Mossoul, who arrived here about ten\ndays ago with rich merchandise, which we have in a warehouse at a\ncaravan-serai, where we have also our lodging. We happened this\nevening to be with a merchant of this city, who invited us to his\nhouse, where we had a splendid entertainment: and the wine having\nput us in good humour, he sent for a company of dancers. Night\nbeing come on, and the music and dancers making a great noise,\nthe watch, passing by, caused the gate to be opened and some of\nthe company to be taken up; but we had the good fortune to escape\nby getting over the wall. Being strangers, and somewhat overcome\nwith wine, we are afraid of meeting that or some other watch,\nbefore we get home to our khan. Besides, before we can arrive\nthere the gates will be shut, and will not be opened till\nmorning: wherefore, hearing, as we passed by this way, the sound\nof music, we supposed you were not yet going to rest, and made\nbold to knock at your gate, to beg the favour of lodging\nourselves in the house till morning; and if you think us worthy\nof your good company, we will endeavour to contribute to your\ndiversion to the best of our power, to make some amends for the\ninterruption we have given you; if not, we only beg the favour of\nstaying this night in your vestibule.\"\n\nWhilst Jaaffier was speaking, Safie had time to observe the\nvizier, and his two companions, who were said to be merchants\nlike himself, and told them that she was not mistress of the\nhouse; but if they would have a minute's patience, she would\nreturn with an answer.\n\nSafie made the business known to her sisters, who considered for\nsome time what to do: but being naturally of a good disposition,\nand having granted the same favour to the three calenders, they\nat last consented to let them in.\n\nThe caliph, his grand vizier, and the chief of the eunuchs, being\nintroduced by the fair Safie, very courteously saluted the ladies\nand the calenders. The ladies returned their salutations,\nsupposing them to be merchants. Zobeide, as the chief, addressed\nthem with a grave and serious countenance, which was natural to\nher, and said, \"You are welcome. But before I proceed farther, I\nhope you will not take it ill if we desire one favour of you.\"\n\"Alas!\" said the vizier, \"what favour? We can refuse nothing to\nsuch fair ladies.\" Zobeide continued, \"It is that, while here,\nyou would have eyes, but no tongues; that you question us not for\nthe reason of any thing you may see, and speak not of any thing\nthat does not concern you, lest you hear what will by no means\nplease you.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the vizier, \"you shall be obeyed. We are not\ncensorious, nor impertinently curious; it is enough for us to\nnotice affairs that concern us, without meddling with what does\nnot belong to us.\" Upon this they all sat down, and the company\nbeing united, they drank to the health of the new-comers.\n\nWhile the vizier, entertained the ladies in conversation, the\ncaliph could not forbear admiring their extraordinary beauty,\ngraceful behaviour, pleasant humour, and ready wit; on the other\nhand, nothing struck him with more surprise than the calenders\nbeing all three blind of the right eye. He would gladly have\nlearnt the cause of this singularity; but the conditions so\nlately imposed upon himself and his companions would not allow\nhim to speak. These circumstances, with the richness of the\nfurniture, the exact order of every thing, and the neatness of\nthe house, made him think they were in some enchanted place.\n\nTheir conversation happening to turn upon diversions, and the\ndifferent ways of making merry; the calenders arose, and danced\nafter their fashion, which augmented the good opinion the ladies\nhad conceived of them, and procured them the esteem of the caliph\nand his companions.\n\nWhen the three calenders had finished their dance, Zobeide arose,\nand taking Amene by the hand, said, \"Pray, sister, arise, for the\ncompany will not be offended if we use our freedom, and their\npresence need not hinder the performance of our customary\nexercise.\" Amene understanding her sister's meaning, rose from\nher seat, carried away the dishes, the flasks and cups, together\nwith the instruments which the calenders had played upon.\n\nSafie was not idle, but swept the room, put every thing again in\nits place, trimmed the lamps, and put fresh aloes and ambergris\nto them; this being done, she requested the three calenders to\nsit down upon the sofa at one side, and the caliph with his\ncompanions on the other: then addressing herself to the porter,\nshe said, \"Get up, and prepare yourself to assist us in what we\nare going to do; a man like you, who is one of the family, ought\nnot to be idle.\" The porter, being somewhat recovered from his\nwine, arose immediately, and having tied the sleeve of his gown\nto his belt, answered, \"Here am I, ready to obey your commands.\"\n\"Very well,\" replied Safie, \"stay till you are spoken to; and you\nshall not be idle long.\" A little time after, Amene came in with\na chair, which she placed in the middle of the room; and then\nwent towards a closet. Having opened the door, she beckoned to\nthe porter, and said, \"Come hither and assist me.\" He obeyed, and\nentered the closet, and returned immediately, leading two black\nbitches, each of them secured by a collar and chain; they\nappeared as if they had been severely whipped with rods, and he\nbrought them into the middle of the apartment.\n\nZobeide, rising from her seat between the calenders and the\ncaliph, moved very gravely towards the porter; \"Come,\" said she,\nheaving a deep sigh, \"let us perform our duty:\" she then tucked\nup her sleeves above her elbows, and receiving a rod from Safie,\n\"Porter,\" said she, \"deliver one of the bitches to my sister\nAmene, and bring the other to me.\"\n\nThe porter did as he was commanded. Upon this the bitch that he\nheld in his hand began to howl, and turning towards Zobeide, held\nher head up in a supplicating posture; but Zobeide, having no\nregard to the sad countenance of the animal, which would have\nmoved pity, nor to her cries that resounded through the house,\nwhipped her with the rod till she was out of breath; and having\nspent her strength, threw down the rod, and taking the chain from\nthe porter, lifted up the bitch by her paws, and looking upon her\nwith a sad and pitiful countenance, they both wept: after which,\nZobeide, with her handkerchief, wiped the tears from the bitch's\neye, kissed her, returned the chain to the porter, desired him to\ncarry her to the place whence he took her, and bring her the\nother. The porter led back the whipped bitch to the closet, and\nreceiving the other from Amene, presented her to Zobeide, who\nrequested him to hold her as he had done the first, took up the\nrod, and treated her after the same manner; and when she had wept\nover her, she dried her eyes, kissed her, and returned her to the\nporter: but Amene spared him the trouble of leading her back into\nthe closet, and did it herself. The three calenders, with the\ncaliph and his companions, were extremely surprised at this\nexhibition, and could not comprehend why Zobeide, after having so\nfuriously beaten those two bitches, that by the moosulman\nreligion are reckoned unclean animals, should weep with them,\nwipe off their tears, and kiss them. They muttered among\nthemselves, and the caliph, who, being more impatient than the\nrest, longed exceedingly to be informed of the cause of so\nstrange a proceeding, could not forbear making signs to the\nvizier to ask the question: the vizier turned his head another\nway; but being pressed by repeated signs, he answered by others,\nthat it was not yet time for the caliph to satisfy his curiosity.\n\nZobeide sat still some time in the middle of the room, where she\nhad whipped the two bitches, to recover herself of her fatigue;\nand Safie called to her, \"Dear sister, will you not be pleased to\nreturn to your place, that I may also aft my part?\" \"Yes,\nsister,\" replied Zobeide; and then went, and sat down upon the\nsofa, having the caliph, Jaaffier, and Mesrour, on her right\nhand, and the three calenders, with the porter, on her left.\n\nAfter Zobeide had taken her seat, the whole company remained\nsilent for some time; at last, Safie, sitting on a chair in the\nmiddle of the room, spoke to her sister Amene, \"Dear sister, I\nconjure you to rise; you know what I would say.\" Amene rose, and\nwent into another closet, near to that where the bitches were,\nand brought out a case covered with yellow satin, richly\nembroidered with gold and green silk. She went towards Safie and\nopened the case, from whence she took a lute, and presented it to\nher: and after some time spent in tuning it, Safie began to play,\nand accompanying the instrument with her voice, sung a song about\nthe torments that absence creates to lovers, with so much\nsweetness, that it charmed the caliph and all the company. Having\nsung with much passion and action, she said to Amene, \"Pray take\nit, sister, for my voice fails me; oblige the company with a\ntune, and a song in my stead.\" \"Very willingly,\" replied Amene,\nwho, taking the lute from her sister Safie, sat down in her\nplace.\n\nAmene played and sung almost as long upon the same subject, but\nwith so much vehemence, and was so much affected, or rather\ntransported, by the words of the song, that her strength failed\nher as she finished.\n\nZobeide, desirous of testifying her satisfaction, said, \"Sister,\nyou have done wonders, and we may easily see that you feel the\ngrief you have expressed in so lively a manner.\" Amene was\nprevented from answering this civility, her heart being so\nsensibly touched at the moment, that she was obliged, for air, to\nuncover her neck and bosom, which did not appear so fair as might\nhave been expected; but, on the contrary, were black and full of\nscars, which surprised and affected all the spectators. However,\nthis gave her no ease, for she fell into a fit.\n\nWhen Zobeide and Safie had run to help their sister, one of the\ncalenders could not forbear saying, \"We had better have slept in\nthe streets than have come hither to behold such spectacles.\" The\ncaliph, who heard this, came to him and the other calenders, and\nasked them what might be the meaning of all this? They answered,\n\"We know no more than you do.\" \"What,\" said the caliph, \"are you\nnot of the family? Can you not resolve us concerning the two\nblack bitches and the lady that fainted away, who appears to have\nbeen so basely abused?\" \"Sir,\" said the calenders, \"this is the\nfirst time of our being in the house; we came in but a few\nminutes before you.\"\n\nThis increased the caliph's astonishment: \"Probably,\" said he,\n\"this man who is with you may know something of the matter.\" One\nof the calenders beckoned the porter to come near; and asked him,\nwhether he knew why those two black bitches had been whipped, and\nwhy Amene's bosom was so scarred. \"Sir,\" said the porter, \"I can\nswear by heaven, that if you know nothing of all this, I know as\nlittle as you do. It is true, I live in this city, but I never\nwas in the house until now, and if you are surprised to see me I\nam as much so to find myself in your company; and that which\nincreases my wonder is, that I have not seen one man with these\nladies.\"\n\nThe caliph and his company, as well as the calenders, had\nsupposed the porter to be one of the family, and hoped he would\nhave been able to give them the information they sought; but\nfinding he could not, and resolving to satisfy his curiosity, the\ncaliph said to the rest, \"We are seven men, and have but three\nwomen to deal with; let us try if we can oblige them to explain\nwhat we have seen, and if they refuse by fair means, we are in a\ncondition to compel them by force.\"\n\nThe grand vizier Jaaffier objected to this, and shewed the caliph\nwhat might be the consequence. Without discovering the prince to\nthe calenders, he addressed him as if he had been a merchant, and\nsaid, \"Consider, I pray you, that our reputation is at stake. You\nknow the conditions on which these ladies consented to receive\nus, and which we agreed to observe; what will they say of us if\nwe break them? We shall be still more to blame, if any mischief\nbefall us; for it is not likely that they would have extorted\nsuch a promise from us, without knowing themselves to be in a\ncondition to punish us for its violation.\"\n\nHere the vizier took the caliph aside, and whispered to him, \"The\nnight will soon be at an end, and if your majesty will only be\npleased to have so much patience, I will to-morrow morning bring\nthese ladies before your throne, where you may be informed of all\nthat you desire to know.\" Though this advice was very judicious,\nthe caliph rejected it, desired the vizier to hold his tongue,\nand said, he would not wait so long, but would immediately have\nhis curiosity satisfied.\n\nThe next business was to settle who should carry the message. The\ncaliph endeavoured to prevail with the calenders to speak first;\nbut they excused themselves, and at last they agreed that the\nporter should be the man: as they were consulting how to word\nthis fatal question, Zobeide returned from her sister Amene, who\nwas recovered of her fit. She drew near them, and having\noverheard them speaking pretty loud, said, \"Gentlemen, what is\nthe subject of your conversation? What are you disputing about?\"\n\nThe porter answered immediately, \"Madam, these gentlemen beseech\nyou to inform them why you wept over your two bitches after you\nhad whipped them so severely, and how the bosom of that lady who\nlately fainted away came to be so full of scars? These are the\nquestions I am ordered to ask in their name.\"\n\nAt these words, Zobeide put on a stern countenance, and turning\ntowards the caliph and the rest of the company, \"Is it true,\ngentlemen,\" said she, \"that you desired him to ask me these\nquestions?\" All of them, except the vizier Jaaffier, who spoke\nnot a word, answered, \"Yes.\" On which she exclaimed, in a tone\nthat sufficiently expressed her resentment, \"Before we granted\nyou the favour of receiving you into our house, and to prevent\nall occasion of trouble from you, because we are alone, we\nimposed the condition that you should not speak of any thing that\ndid not concern you, lest you might hear that which would not\nplease you; and yet after having received and entertained you,\nyou make no scruple to break your promise. It is true that our\neasy temper has occasioned this, but that shall not excuse your\nrudeness.\" As she spoke these words, she gave three stamps with\nher foot, and clapping her hands as often together, cried, \"Come\nquickly:\" upon this, a door flew open, and seven black slaves\nrushed in; every one seized a man, threw him on the ground, and\ndragged him into the middle of the room, brandishing a cimeter\nover his head.\n\nWe may easily conceive the caliph then repented, but too late,\nthat he had not taken the advice of his vizier, who, with\nMesrour, the calenders and porter, was from his ill-timed\ncuriosity on the point of forfeiting his life. Before they would\nstrike the fatal blow, one of the slaves said to Zobeide, and her\nsisters: \"High, mighty, and adorable mistresses, do you command\nus to strike off their heads?\" \"Stay,\" said Zobeide, \"I must\nexamine them first.\" The frightened porter interrupted her thus:\n\"In the name of heaven, do not put me to death for another man's\ncrime. I am innocent; they are to blame.\" \"Alas!\" said he,\nweeping, \"how pleasantly did we pass our time! those blind\ncalenders are the cause of this misfortune; there is no town in\nthe world but suffers wherever these inauspicious fellows come.\nMadam, I beg you not to destroy the innocent with the guilty, and\nconsider, that it is more glorious to pardon such a wretch as I\nam, who have no way to help myself, than to sacrifice me to your\nresentment.\"\n\nZobeide, notwithstanding her anger, could not but laugh within\nherself at the porter's lamentation: but without replying to him,\nshe spoke a second time to the rest; \"Answer me, and say who you\nare, otherwise you shall not live one moment longer: I cannot\nbelieve you to be honest men, or persons of authority or\ndistinction in your own countries; for if you were, you would\nhave been more modest and more respectful to us.\"\n\nThe caliph, naturally warm, was infinitely more indignant than\nthe rest, to find his life depending upon the command of a woman:\nbut he began to conceive some hopes, when he found she wished to\nknow who they all were; for he imagined she would not put him to\ndeath, when informed of his quality; therefore he spoke with a\nlow voice to the vizier, who was near him, to declare it\nspeedily: but the vizier, more prudent, resolved to save his\nmaster's honour, and not let the world know the affront he had\nbrought upon himself by his own imprudence; and therefore\nanswered, \"We have what we deserve.\" But if he had intended to\nspeak as the caliph commanded him, Zobeide would not have allowed\nhim time: for having turned to the calenders, and seeing them all\nblind with one eye, she asked if they were brothers. One of them\nanswered, \"No, madam, no otherwise than as we are calenders; that\nis to say, as we observe the same rules.\" \"Were you born blind of\nthe right eye,\" continued she? \"No, madam,\" answered he; \"I lost\nmy eye in such a surprising adventure, that it would be\ninstructive to every body were it in writing: after that\nmisfortune I shaved my beard and eyebrows, and took the habit of\na calender which I now wear.\"\n\nZobeide asked the other two calenders the same question, and had\nthe same answers; but the last who spoke added, \"Madam, to shew\nyou that we are no common fellows, and that you may have some\nconsideration for us, be pleased to know, that we are all three\nsons of sultans; and though we never met together till this\nevening, yet we have had time enough to make that known to one\nanother; and I assure you that the sultans from whom we derive\nour being were famous in the world.\"\n\nAt this discourse Zobeide suppressed her anger, and said to the\nslaves, \"Give them their liberty a while, but remain where you\nare. Those who tell us their history, and the occasion of their\ncoming, do them no hurt, let them go where they please; but do\nnot spare those who refuse to give us that satisfaction.\"\n\nThe three calendars, the caliph, the grand vizier, Jaaffier, the\neunuch Mesrour, and the porter, were all in the middle of the\nhall, seated upon a carpet in the presence of the three ladies,\nwho reclined upon a sofa, and the slaves stood ready to do\nwhatever their mistresses should command.\n\nThe porter, understanding that he might extricate himself from\ndanger by telling his history, spoke first, and said, \"Madam, you\nknow my history already, and the occasion of my coming hither; so\nthat what I have to say will be very short. My lady, your sister,\ncalled me this morning at the place where I plyed as porter to\nsee if any body would employ me, that I might get my bread; I\nfollowed her to a vintner's, then to a herb-shop, then to one\nwhere oranges, lemons, and citrons were sold, then to a grocer's,\nnext to a confectioner's, and a druggist's, with my basket upon\nmy head as full as I was able to carry it; then I came hither,\nwhere you had the goodness to suffer me to continue till now, a\nfavour that I shall never forget. This, madam, is my history.\"\n\nWhen the porter had done, Zobeide said to him, \"Depart, let us\nsee you here no more.\" \"Madam,\" replied the porter, \"I beg you to\nlet me stay; it would not be just, after the rest have had the\npleasure to hear my history, that I should not also have the\nsatisfaction of hearing theirs.\" And having spoken thus, he sat\ndown at the end of the sofa, glad at heart to have escaped the\ndanger that had frightened him so much. After him, one of the\nthree calenders directing his speech to Zobeide, as the principal\nof the three ladies, began thus:\n\n\n\n\n              The History of the First Calender.\n\n\n\nMadam, in order to inform you how I lost my right eye, and why I\nwas obliged to put myself into a calender's habit, I must tell\nyou, that I am a sultan's son born: my father had a brother who\nreigned over a neighbouring kingdom; and the prince his son and I\nwere nearly of the same age.\n\nAfter I had learned my exercises, the sultan my father granted me\nsuch liberty as suited my dignity. I went regularly every year to\nsee my uncle, at whose court I amused myself for a month or two,\nand then returned again to my father's. These journeys cemented a\nfirm and intimate friendship between the prince my cousin and\nmyself. The last time I saw him, he received me with greater\ndemonstrations of tenderness than he had done at any time before;\nand resolving one day to give me a treat, he made great\npreparations for that purpose. We continued a long time at table,\nand after we had both supped; \"Cousin,\" said he, \"you will hardly\nbe able to guess how I have been employed since your last\ndeparture from hence, about a year past. I have had a great many\nmen at work to perfect a design I have formed; I have caused an\nedifice to be built, which is now finished so as to be habitable:\nyou will not be displeased if I shew it you. But first you are to\npromise me upon oath, that you will keep my secret, according to\nthe confidence I repose in you.\"\n\nThe affection and familiarity that subsisted between us would not\nallow me to refuse him any thing. I very readily took the oath\nrequired of me: upon which he said to me, \"Stay here till I\nreturn, I will be with you in a moment;\" and accordingly he came\nwith a lady in his hand, of singular beauty, and magnificently\napparelled: he did not intimate who she was, neither did I think\nit would be polite to enquire. We sat down again with this lady\nat table, where we continued some time, conversing upon\nindifferent subjects; and now and then filling a glass to each\nother's health. After which the prince said, \"Cousin, we must\nlose no time; therefore pray oblige me by taking this lady along\nwith you, and conducting her to such a place, where you will see\na tomb newly built in form of a dome: you will easily know it;\nthe gate is open; enter it together, and tarry till I come, which\nwill be very speedily.\"\n\nBeing true to my oath, I made no farther enquiry, but took the\nlady by the hand, and by the directions which the prince my\ncousin had given me, I brought her to the place. We were scarcely\ngot thither, when we saw the prince following us, carrying a\npitcher of water, a hatchet, and a little bag of mortar.\n\nThe hatchet served him to break down the empty sepulchre in the\nmiddle of the tomb; he took away the stones one after another,\nand laid them in a corner; he then dug up the ground, where I saw\na trap-door under the sepulchre, which he lifted up, and\nunderneath perceived the head of a staircase leading into a\nvault. Then my cousin, speaking to the lady, said, \"Madam, it is\nby this way that we are to go to the place I told you of:\" upon\nwhich the lady advanced, and went down, and the prince began to\nfollow; but first turning to me, said, \"My dear cousin, I am\ninfinitely obliged to you for the trouble you have taken; I thank\nyou. Adieu.\" \"Dear cousin,\" I cried, \"what is the meaning of\nthis?\" \"Be content,\" replied he; \"you may return the way you\ncame.\"\n\nI could get nothing farther from him, but was obliged to take my\nleave. As I returned to my uncle's palace, the vapours of the\nwine got up into my head; however, I reached my apartment, and\nwent to bed. Next morning, when I awoke, I began to reflect upon\nwhat had happened, and after recollecting all the circumstances\nof such a singular adventure, I fancied it was nothing but a\ndream. Full of these thoughts, I sent to enquire if the prince my\ncousin was ready to receive a visit from me; but when they\nbrought word back that he did not lie in his own lodgings that\nnight, that they knew not what was become of him, and were in\nmuch trouble in consequence, I conceived that the strange event\nof the tomb was too true. I was sensibly afflicted, and went to\nthe public burying-place, where there were several tombs like\nthat which I had seen: I spent the day in viewing them one after\nanother, but could not find that I sought for, and thus I spent\nfour days successively in vain.\n\nYou must know, that all this while the sultan my uncle was\nabsent, and had been hunting for several days; I grew weary of\nwaiting for him, and having prayed his ministers to make my\napology at his return, left his palace, and set out towards my\nfather's court. I left the ministers of the sultan my uncle in\ngreat trouble, surmising what was become of the prince: but\nbecause of my oath to keep his secret, I durst not tell them what\nI had seen.\n\nI arrived at my father's capital, where, contrary to custom, I\nfound a numerous guard at the gate of the palace, who surrounded\nme as I entered. I asked the reason, and the commanding officer\nreplied, \"Prince, the army has proclaimed the grand vizier,\ninstead of your father, who is dead, and I take you prisoner in\nthe name of the new sultan.\" At these words the guards laid hold\nof me, and carried me before the tyrant: I leave you to judge,\nmadam, how much I was surprised and grieved.\n\nThis rebel vizier, had long entertained a mortal hatred against\nme; for this reason. When I was a stripling, I loved to shoot\nwith a cross-bow; and being one day upon the terrace of the\npalace with my bow, a bird happening to come by, I shot but\nmissed him, and the ball by misfortune hit the vizier, who was\ntaking the air upon the terrace of his own house, and put out one\nof his eyes. As soon as I understood this, I not only sent to\nmake my excuse to him, but did it in person: yet he never forgave\nme, and, as opportunity offered, made me sensible of his\nresentment. But now that he had me in his power, he expressed his\nfeelings; for he came to me like a madman, as soon as he saw me,\nand thrusting his finger into my right eye, pulled it out, and\nthus I became blind of one eye.\n\nBut the usurper's cruelty did not stop here; he ordered me to be\nshut up in a machine, and commanded the executioner to carry me\ninto the country, to cut off my head, and leave me to be devoured\nby birds of prey. The executioner conveyed me thus shut up into\nthe country, in order to execute the barbarous sentence; but by\nmy prayers and tears, I moved the man's compassion: \"Go,\" said he\nto me, \"get you speedily out of the kingdom, and take heed of\nreturning, or you will certainly meet your own ruin, and be the\ncause of mine.\" I thanked him for the favour he did me; and as\nsoon as I was left alone, comforted myself for the loss of my\neye, by considering that I had very narrowly escaped a much\ngreater evil.\n\nBeing in such a condition, I could not travel far at a time; I\nretired to remote places during the day, and travelled as far by\nnight as my strength would allow me. At last I arrived in the\ndominions of the sultan my uncle, and came to his capital.\n\nI gave him a long detail of the tragical cause of my return, and\nof the sad condition he saw me in. \"Alas!\" cried he, \"was it not\nenough for me to have lost my son, but must I have also news of\nthe death of a brother I loved so dearly, and see you reduced to\nthis deplorable condition?\" He told me how uneasy he was that he\ncould hear nothing of his son, notwithstanding all the enquiry he\ncould make. At these words, the unfortunate father burst into\ntears, and was so much afflicted, that pitying his grief, it was\nimpossible for me to keep the secret any longer; so that,\nnotwithstanding my oath to the prince my cousin, I told the\nsultan all that I knew.\n\nHis majesty listened to me with some sort of comfort, and when I\nhad done, \"Nephew,\" said he, \"what you tell me gives me some\nhope. I knew that my son ordered that tomb to be built, and I can\nguess pretty nearly the place; and with the idea you still have\nof it, I fancy we shall find it: but since he ordered it to be\nbuilt privately, and you took your oath to keep his secret, I am\nof opinion, that we ought to go in quest of it without other\nattendants.\" But he had another reason for keeping the matter\nsecret, which he did not then tell me, and an important one it\nwas, as you will perceive by the sequel of my story.\n\nWe disguised ourselves and went out by a door of the garden which\nopened into the fields, and soon found what we sought for. I knew\nthe tomb, and was the more rejoiced, because I had formerly\nsought it a long time in vain. We entered, and found the iron\ntrap pulled down at the head of the staircase; we had great\ndifficulty in raising it, because the prince had fastened it\ninside with the water and mortar formerly mentioned, but at last\nwe succeeded.\n\nThe sultan my uncle descended first, I followed, and we went down\nabout fifty steps. When we came to the foot of the stairs, we\nfound a sort of antechamber, full of thick smoke of an ill scent,\nwhich obscured the lamp, that gave a very faint light.\n\nFrom this antechamber we came into another, very large, supported\nby columns, and lighted by several branched candlesticks. There\nwas a cistern in the middle, and provisions of several sorts\nstood on one side of it; but we were much surprised not to see\nany person. Before us there appeared a high estrade, which we\nmounted by several steps, and upon this there was a large bed,\nwith curtains drawn. The sultan went up, and opening the\ncurtains, perceived the prince his son and the lady in bed\ntogether, but burnt and changed to cinder, as if they had been\nthrown into a fire, and taken out before they were consumed.\n\nBut what surprised me most was, that though this spectacle filled\nme with horror, the sultan my uncle, instead of testifying his\nsorrow to see the prince his son in such a condition, spat on his\nface, and exclaimed, with a disdainful air, \"This is the\npunishment of this world, but that of the other will last to\neternity;\" and not content with this, he pulled off his sandal,\nand gave the corpse of his son a blow on the cheek.\n\nI cannot adequately express how much I was astonished when I saw\nthe sultan my uncle abuse his son thus after he was dead. \"Sir,\"\nsaid I, \"whatever grief this dismal sight has impressed upon me,\nI am forced to suspend it, to enquire of your majesty what crime\nthe prince my cousin may have committed, that his corpse should\ndeserve such indignant treatment?\" \"Nephew,\" replied the sultan,\n\"I must tell you, that my son (who is unworthy of that name)\nloved his sister from his infancy, as she did him: I did not\ncheck their growing fondness, because I did not foresee its\npernicious consequence. This tenderness increased as they grew in\nyears, and to such a height, that I dreaded the end of it. At\nlast, I applied such remedies as were in my power: I not only\ngave my son a severe reprimand in private, laying before him the\nhorrible nature of the passion he entertained, and the eternal\ndisgrace he would bring upon my family, if he persisted; but I\nalso represented the same to my daughter, and shut her up so\nclose that she could have no conversation with her brother. But\nthat unfortunate creature had swallowed so much of the poison,\nthat all the obstacles which by my prudence I could lay in the\nway served only to inflame her love.\n\n\"My son being persuaded of his sister's constancy, on presence of\nbuilding a tomb, caused this subterraneous habitation to be made,\nin hopes of finding one day or other an opportunity to possess\nhimself of that objets which was the cause of his flame, and to\nbring her hither. He took advantage of my absence, to enter by\nforce into the place of his sister's confinement; but this was a\ncircumstance which my honour would not suffer me to make public.\nAnd after so damnable an action, he came and shut himself up with\nher in this place, which he has supplied, as you see, with all\nsorts of provisions, that he might enjoy detestable pleasures,\nwhich ought to be a subject of horror to all the world; but God,\nwho would not suffer such an abomination, has justly punished\nthem both.\" At these words, he melted into tears, and I joined\nmine with his.\n\nAfter a while, casting his eyes upon me, \"Dear nephew,\" cried he,\nembracing me, \"if I have lost that unworthy son, I shall happily\nfind in you what will better supply his place.\" The reflections\nhe made on the doleful end of the prince and princess his\ndaughter made us both weep afresh.\n\nWe ascended the stairs again, and departed at last from that\ndismal place. We let down the trap door, and covered it with\nearth, and such other materials as the tomb was built of, on\npurpose to hide, as much as lay in our power, so terrible an\neffect of the wrath of God.\n\nWe had not been long returned to the palace, unperceived by any\none, but we heard a confused noise of trumpets, drums, and other\ninstruments of war. We soon understood by the thick cloud of\ndust, which almost darkened the air, that it was the arrival of a\nformidable army: and it proved to be the same vizier that had\ndethroned my father, and usurped his place, who with a vast\nnumber of troops was come to possess himself of that also of the\nsultan my uncle.\n\nMy uncle, who then had only his usual guards about him, could not\nresist so numerous an enemy; they invested the city, and the\ngates being opened to them without any resistance, soon became\nmasters of it, and broke into the palace where my uncle defended\nhimself, and sold his life at a dear rate. I fought as valiantly\nfor a while; but seeing we were forced to submit to a superior\npower, I thought on my retreat, which I had the good fortune to\neffect by some back ways, and got to one of the sultan's servants\non whose fidelity I could depend.\n\nBeing thus surrounded with sorrows and persecuted by fortune, I\nhad recourse to a stratagem, which was the only means left me to\nsave my life: I caused my beard and eye-brows to be shaved, and\nputting on a calender's habit, I passed, unknown by any, out of\nthe city; after that, by degrees, I found it easy to quit my\nuncle's kingdom, by taking the bye-roads.\n\nI avoided passing through towns, until I had reached the empire\nof the mighty governor of the Moosulmauns, the glorious and\nrenowned caliph Haroon al Rusheed, when I thought myself out of\ndanger; and considering what I was to do, I resolved to come to\nBagdad, intending to throw myself at the feet of that monarch,\nwhose generosity is renowned throughout the world. \"I shall move\nhim to compassion,\" said I to myself, \"by the relation of my\nuncommon misfortunes, and without doubt he will take pity on a\npersecuted prince, and not suffer me to implore his assistance in\nvain.\"\n\nIn short, after a journey of several months, I arrived yesterday\nat the gate of this city, into which I entered about the dusk of\nevening; and stopping a little while to consider which way I was\nto turn, another calender came up; he saluted me, and I him: \"You\nappear,\" said I, \"to be a stranger, as I am.\" \"You are not\nmistaken,\" replied he. He had no sooner returned this answer,\nthan a third calender overtook us. He saluted us, and told us he\nwas a stranger newly come to Bagdad; so that as brethren we\njoined together, resolving not to separate from one another.\n\nIt was now late, and we knew not where to seek a lodging in the\ncity, where we had never been before. But good fortune having\nbrought us to your gate, we made bold to knock, when you received\nus with so much kindness, that we are incapable of rendering\nsuitable thanks. \"This, madam,\" said he, \"is, in obedience to\nyour commands, the account I was to give how I lost my right eye,\nwherefore my beard and eye-brows are shaved, and how I came to be\nwith you at this time.\"\n\n\"It is enough,\" said Zobeide; \"you may retire to what place you\nthink fit.\" The calender begged the ladies' permission to stay\ntill he had heard the relations of his two comrades, \"Whom I\ncannot,\" said he, \"leave with honour;\" and that he might also\nhear those of the three other persons in company.\n\nThe story of the first calender seemed wonderful to the whole\ncompany, but especially to the caliph, who, notwithstanding the\nslaves stood by with their cimeters drawn, could not forbear\nwhispering to the vizier \"Many stories have I heard, but never\nany that equalled in surprising incident that of the calender.\"\nWhilst he was saying this, the second calender began, addressing\nhimself to Zobeide.\n\n\n\n\n               The Story of the Second Calender.\n\n\n\nMadam, to obey your commands, and to shew you by what strange\naccident I became blind of the right eye, I must of necessity\ngive you the account of my life.\n\nI was scarcely past my infancy, when the sultan my father (for\nyou must know I am a prince by birth) perceived that I was\nendowed with good natural ability, and spared nothing proper for\nimproving it.\n\nNo sooner was I able to read and write, but I learned the Koraun\nfrom beginning to end by heart, that admirable book, which\ncontains the foundation, the precepts, and the rules of our\nreligion; and that I might be thoroughly instructed in it, I read\nthe works of the most approved divines, by whose commentaries it\nhad been explained. I added to this study, that of all the\ntraditions collected from the mouth of our prophet, by the great\nmen that were contemporary with him. I was not satisfied with the\nknowledge of all that had any relation to our religion, but made\nalso a particular search into our histories. I made myself\nperfect in polite learning, in the works of poets, and\nversification. I applied myself to geography, chronology, and to\nspeak the Arabian language in its purity; not forgetting in the\nmeantime all such exercises as were proper for a prince to\nunderstand. But one thing which I was fond of, and succeeded in,\nwas penmanship; wherein I surpassed all the celebrated scribes of\nour kingdom.\n\nFame did me more honour than I deserved, for she not only spread\nthe renown of my talents through all the dominions of the sultan\nmy father, but carried it as far as the empire of Hindoostan,\nwhose potent monarch, desirous to see me, sent an ambassador with\nrich presents: my father, who rejoiced at this embassy for\nseveral reasons, was persuaded, that nothing could be more\nimproving to a prince of my age than to travel and visit foreign\ncourts; and he wished to gain the friendship of the Indian\nmonarch. I departed with the ambassador, but with no great\nretinue.\n\nWhen we had travelled about a month, we discovered at a distance\na cloud of dust, and under that we saw very soon fifty horsemen\nwell armed, who were robbers, advancing towards us at full speed.\n\nAs we had ten horses laden with baggage, and presents to the\nsultan of Hindoostan, from my father, and my retinue was but\nsmall, you may easily judge that these robbers came boldly up to\nus; and not being in a posture to make any opposition, we told\nthem, that we were ambassadors, and hoped they would attempt\nnothing contrary to the respect due to such sacred characters,\nthinking by this means to save our equipage and our lives: but\nthe robbers most insolently replied, \"For what reason would you\nhave us shew any respect to the sultan your master? We are none\nof his subjects, nor are we upon his territories:\" having spoken\nthus, they surrounded and fell upon us: I defended myself as long\nas I could; but finding myself wounded, and seeing the ambassador\nwith his attendants and mine lying on the ground, I made use of\nwhat strength was yet remaining in my horse, who was also very\nmuch wounded, and rode away as fast as he could carry me; but he\nshortly after, from weariness and the loss of blood, fell down\ndead. I cleared myself from him unhurt, and finding that I was\nnot pursued, judged the robbers were not willing to quit the\nbooty they had obtained.\n\nHere you see me, alone, wounded, destitute of help, and in a strange\ncountry. I durst not take the high road, fearing I might fall again\ninto the hands of these robbers. When I had bound up my wound, which\nwas not dangerous, I walked on the rest of the day, and arrived at the\nfoot of the mountain, where I perceived a passage into a cave; I went\nin, and staid there that night with little satisfaction, after I had\neaten some fruits that I had gathered by the way.\n\nI continued my journey for several days following, without\nfinding any place of abode: but after a month's time, I came to a\nlarge town well inhabited, and situated so much the more\nadvantageously, as it was surrounded by several streams, so that\nit enjoyed perpetual spring.\n\nThe pleasant objects which then presented themselves to my view\nafforded me some joy, and suspended for a time the sorrow with\nwhich I was overwhelmed. My face, hands, and feet were black and\nsun-burnt; and, by my long journey, my boots were quite worn out,\nso that I was forced to walk bare-footed; and besides, my clothes\nwere all in rags I entered the town to inform myself where I was,\nand addressed myself to a tailor that was at work in his shop;\nwho, perceiving by my air that I was a person of more note than\nmy outward appearance bespoke, made me sit down by him, and asked\nme who I was, from whence I came, and what had brought me\nthither? I did not conceal anything that had befallen me, nor\nmade I any scruple to discover my quality.\n\nThe tailor listened to me with attention; but after had done\nspeaking, instead of giving me any consolation, he augmented my\nsorrow: \"Take heed,\" said he, \"how you discover to any person\nwhat you have related to me; for the prince of this country is\nthe greatest enemy your father has, and he will certainly do you\nsome mischief, should he hear of your being in this city.\" I made\nno doubt of the tailor's sincerity, when he named the prince: but\nsince that enmity which is between my father and him has no\nrelation to my adventures, I pass it over in silence.\n\nI returned the tailor thanks for his advice, expressed himself\ndisposed to follow his counsel, and assured him that his favours\nshould never be forgotten. He ordered something to be brought for\nme to eat, and offered me at the same time a lodging in his\nhouse, which I accepted. Some days after, finding me tolerably\nwell recovered of the fatigue I had endured by a long and tedious\njourney, and reflecting that most princes of our religion applied\nthemselves to some art or calling that might be serviceable to\nthem upon occasion, he asked me, if I had learned any whereby I\nmight get a livelihood, and not be burdensome to others? I told\nhim that I understood the laws, both divine and human; that I was\na grammarian and poet; and above all, that I could write with\ngreat perfection. \"By all this,\" said he, \"you will not be able,\nin this country, to purchase yourself one morsel of bread;\nnothing is of less use here than those sciences; but if you will\nbe advised by me, dress yourself in a labourer's habit; and since\nyou appear to be strong, and of a good constitution, you shall go\ninto the next forest and cut fire-wood, which you may bring to\nthe market to be sold; and I can assure you this employment will\nturn to so good an account that you may live by it, without\ndependence upon any man; and by this means you will be in a\ncondition to wait for the favourable minute, when heaven shall\nthink fit to dispel those clouds of misfortune that thwart your\nhappiness, and oblige you to conceal your birth; I will take care\nto supply you with a rope and a hatchet.\"\n\nThe fear of being known, and the necessity I was under of getting\na livelihood, made me agree to this proposal, notwithstanding the\nmeanness and hardships that attended it. The day following the\ntailor brought me a rope, a hatchet, and a short coat, and\nrecommended me to some poor people who gained their bread after\nthe same manner, that they might take me into their company. They\nconducted me to the wood, and the first day I brought in as much\nupon my head as procured me half a piece of gold, of the money of\nthat country; for though the wood was not far distant from the\ntown, yet it was very scarce, by reason that few would be at the\ntrouble of fetching it for themselves. I gained a good sum of\nmoney in a short time, and repaid my tailor what he had advanced\nto me.\n\nI continued this way of living for a whole year. One day, having\nby chance penetrated farther into the wood than usual, I happened\nto light on a pleasant spot, where I began to cut; and in pulling\nup the root of a tree, I espied an iron ring, fastened to a trap\ndoor of the same metal. I took away the earth that covered it,\nand having lifted it up, discovered a flight of stairs, which I\ndescended with my axe in my hand.\n\nWhen I had reached the bottom, I found myself in a palace, and\nfelt great consternation, on account of a great light which\nappeared as clear in it as if it had been above ground in the\nopen air. I went forward along a gallery, supported by pillars of\njasper, the base and capitals of messy gold: but seeing a lady of\na noble and graceful air, extremely beautiful, coming towards me,\nmy eyes were taken off from every other objets.\n\nBeing desirous to spare the lady the trouble of coming to me, I\nhastened to meet her; and as I was saluting her with a low\nobeisance, she asked me, \"What are you, a man or a genie?\" \"A\nman, madam,\" said I; \"I have no correspondence with genies.\" \"By\nwhat adventure,\" said she, fetching a deep sigh, \"are you come\nhither? I have lived here twenty-five years, and you are the\nfirst man I have beheld in that time.\"\n\nHer great beauty, which had already smitten me, and the sweetness\nand civility wherewith she received me, emboldened me to say,\n\"Madam, before I have the honour to satisfy your curiosity, give\nme leave to tell you, that I am infinitely gratified with this\nunexpected meeting, which offers me an occasion of consolation in\nthe midst of my affliction; and perhaps it may give me an\nopportunity of making you also more happy than you are.\" I\nrelated to her by what strange accident she beheld me, the son of\na sultan, in such a condition as I appeared in her presence; and\nhow fortune had directed that I should discover the entrance into\nthat magnificent prison where I had found her, according to\nappearance, in an unpleasant situation.\n\n\"Alas! prince,\" said she, sighing once more, \"you have just cause\nto believe this rich and pompous prison cannot be otherwise than\na most wearisome abode: the most charming place in the world\nbeing no way delightful when we are detained there contrary to\nour will. It is not possible but you have heard of the sultan of\nthe isle of Ebene, so called from that precious wood which it\nproduces in abundance; I am the princess his daughter.\n\n\"The sultan, my father, had chosen for me a husband, a prince who\nwas my cousin; but on my wedding-night, in the midst of the\nrejoicings of the court and capital, before I was conducted to my\nhusband, a genie took me away. I fainted with alarm, and when I\nrecovered, found myself in this place. I was long inconsolable,\nbut time and necessity have accustomed me to see and receive the\ngenie. Twenty-five years I have continued in this place, where, I\nmust confess, I have all that I can wish for necessary to life,\nand also every thing that can satisfy a princess fond of dress\nand splendour.\n\n\"Every ten days,\" continued the princess, \"the genie comes\nhither, and remains with me one night, which he never exceeds;\nand the excuse he makes for it is, that he is married to another\nwife, who would grow jealous if she should know his infidelity.\nMeanwhile, if I have occasion for him by day or night, as soon as\nI touch a talisman, which is at the entrance into my chamber, the\ngenie appears. It is now the fourth day since he was here, and I\ndo not expect him before the end of six more; so, if you please,\nyou may stay five days, and I will endeavour to entertain you\naccording to your quality and merit.\" I thought myself too\nfortunate, to have obtained so great a favour without asking, to\nrefuse so obliging an offer. The princess made me go into a bath,\nthe most commodious, and the most sumptuous imaginable; and when\nI came forth, instead of my own clothes I found another very\ncostly suit, which I did not esteem so much for its richness, as\nbecause it made me appear worthy to be in her company. We sat\ndown on a sofa covered with rich tapestry, with cushions of the\nrarest Indian brocade; and some time after she covered a table\nwith several dishes of delicate meats. We ate, and passed the\nremaining part of the day with much satisfaction, as also the\nevening, together.\n\nThe next day, as she contrived every means to please me, she\nbrought in, at dinner, a bottle of old wine, the most excellent\nthat ever was tasted, and out of complaisance drank some part of\nit with me. When my head grew warm with the agreeable liquor,\n\"Fair princess,\" said I, \"you have been too long thus buried\nalive; follow me, enjoy the real day, of which you have been\ndeprived so many years, and abandon this artificial though\nbrilliant glare.\" \"Prince,\" replied she, with a smile, \"leave\nthis discourse; if you out of ten days will grant me nine, and\nresign the last to the genie, the fairest day would be nothing in\nmy esteem.\" \"Princess,\" said I, \"it is the fear of the genie that\nmakes you speak thus; for my part, I value him so little, that I\nwill break in pieces his talisman, with the conjuration that is\nwritten about it. Let him come, I will expect him; and how brave\nor redoubtable soever he be, I will make him feel the weight of\nmy arm: I swear solemnly that I will extirpate all the genies in\nthe world, and him first.\" The princess, who knew the\nconsequence, conjured me not to touch the talisman. \"For that\nwould be the means,\" said she, \"of ruining both you and me; I\nknow what belongs to genies better than you.\" The fumes of the\nwine did not suffer me to hearken to her reasons; but I gave the\ntalisman a kick with my foot, and broke it in several pieces.\n\nThe talisman was no sooner broken than the palace began to shake,\nand seemed ready to fall, with a hideous noise like thunder,\naccompanied with flashes of lightning, and alternate darkness.\nThis terrible noise in a moment dispelled the fumes of my wine,\nand made me sensible, but too late, of the folly I had committed.\n\"Princess,\" cried I, \"what means all this?\" She answered, without\nany concern for her own misfortune, \"Alas! you are undone, if you\ndo not fly immediately.\"\n\nI followed her advice, but my fears were so great, that I forgot\nmy hatchet and cords. I had scarcely reached the stairs by which\nI had descended, when the enchanted palace opened at once, and\nmade a passage for the genie: he asked the princess in great\nanger, \"What has happened to you, and why did you call me?\" \"A\nviolent spasm,\" said the princess, \"made me fetch this bottle\nwhich you see here, out of which I drank twice or thrice, and by\nmischance made a false step, and fell upon the talisman, which is\nbroken, and that is all.\"\n\nAt this answer, the furious genie told her, \"You are a false\nwoman, and speak not the truth; how came that axe and those cords\nthere?\" \"I never saw them till this moment,\" said the princess.\n\"Your coming in such an impetuous manner has, it may be, forced\nthem up in some place as you came along, and so brought them\nhither without your knowing it.\"\n\nThe genie made no other answer but what was accompanied with\nreproaches and blows, of which I heard the noise. I could not\nendure to hear the pitiful cries of the princess so cruelly\nabused. I had already taken off the suit she had presented to me,\nand put on my own, which I had laid on the stairs the day before,\nwhen I came out of the bagnio: I made haste upstairs, the more\ndistracted with sorrow and compassion, as I had been the cause of\nso great a misfortune; and by sacrificing the fairest princess on\nearth to the barbarity of a merciless genie, I was becoming the\nmost criminal and ungrateful of mankind. \"It is true,\" said I,\n\"she has been a prisoner these twenty-five years; but, liberty\nexcepted she wanted nothing that could make her happy. My folly\nhas put an end to her happiness, and brought upon her the cruelty\nof an unmerciful devil.\" I let down the trap-door, covered it\nagain with earth, and returned to the city with a burden of wood,\nwhich I bound up without knowing what I did, so great was my\ntrouble and sorrow.\n\nMy landlord, the tailor, was very much rejoiced to see me: \"Your\nabsence,\" said he, \"has disquieted me much, as you had entrusted\nme with the secret of your birth, and I knew not what to think; I\nwas afraid somebody had discovered you; God be praised for your\nreturn.\" I thanked him for his zeal and affection, but not a word\ndurst I say of what had passed, nor of the reason why I came back\nwithout my hatchet and cords.\n\nI retired to my chamber, where I reproached myself a thousand\ntimes for my excessive imprudence: \"Nothing,\" said I, \"could have\nparalleled the princess's good fortune and mine, had I forborne\nto break the talisman.\"\n\nWhile I was thus giving myself over to melancholy thoughts, the\ntailor came in and said, \"An old man, whom I do not know, brings\nyour hatchet and cords, which he found in his way as he tells me,\nand says he understood from your comrades that you lodge here;\ncome out and speak to him, for he will deliver them to none but\nyourself.\"\n\nAt these words I changed colour, and fell a trembling. While the\ntailor was asking me the reason, my chamber-door opened, and the\nold man, having no patience to stay, appeared to us with my\nhatchet and cords. This was the genie, the ravisher of the fair\nprincess of the isle of Ebene, who had thus disguised himself,\nafter he had treated her with the utmost barbarity. \"I am a\ngenie,\" said he, speaking to me, \"son of the daughter of Eblis,\nprince of genies: is not this your hatchet, and are not these\nyour cords?\"\n\nAfter the genie had put the question to me, he gave me no time to\nanswer, nor was it in my power, so much had his terrible aspect\ndisordered me. He grasped me by the middle, dragged me out of the\nchamber, and mounting into the air, carried me up to the skies\nwith such swiftness, that I was not able to take notice of the\nway he conveyed me. He descended again in like manner to the\nearth, which on a sudden he caused to open with a stroke of his\nfoot, and sunk down at once, when I found myself in the enchanted\npalace, before the fair princess of the isle of Ebene. But, alas!\nwhat a spectacle was there! I saw what pierced me to the heart;\nthis poor princess was quite naked, weltering in her blood, and\nlaid upon the ground, more like one dead than alive, with her\ncheeks bathed in tears.\n\n\"Perfidious wretch!\" said the genie to her, pointing at me, \"is\nnot this your gallant?\" She cast her languishing eyes upon me,\nand answered mournfully, \"I do not know him, I never saw him till\nthis moment.\" \"What!\" said the genie, \"he is the cause of thy\nbeing in the condition thou art justly in; and yet darest thou\nsay thou cost not know him?\" \"If I do not know him,\" said the\nprincess, \"would you have me lie on purpose to ruin him?\" \"Oh\nthen,\" said the genie, pulling out a cimeter and presenting it to\nthe princess, \"if you never saw him before, take this, and cut\noff his head.\" \"Alas,\" replied the princess, \"how is it possible\nthat I should execute such an act? My strength is so far spent\nthat I cannot lift up my arm; and if I could, how should I have\nthe heart to take away the life of an innocent man, and one whom\nI do not know?\" \"This refusal,\" said the genie to the princess,\n\"sufficiently informs me of your crime.\" Upon which, turning to\nme, \"And thou,\" said he, \"dost thou not know her?\"\n\nI should have been the most ungrateful wretch, and the most\nperfidious of all mankind, if I had not strewn myself as faithful\nto the princess as she had been to me, who had been the cause of\nher misfortunes. I therefore answered the genie, \"How should I\nknow her, when I never saw her till now?\" \"If it be so,\" said he,\n\"take the cimeter and cut off her head: on this condition I will\nset thee at liberty, for then I shall be convinced that thou hast\nnever seen her till this moment, as thou gayest.\" \"With all my\nheart,\" replied I, and took the cimeter in my hand.\n\nDo not think, madam, that I drew near to the fair princess of the\nisle of Ebene to be the executioner of the genie's barbarity. I\ndid it only to demonstrate by my behaviour, as much as possible,\nthat as she had strewn her resolution to sacrifice her life for\nmy sake, I would not refuse to sacrifice mine for hers. The\nprincess, notwithstanding her pain and suffering, understood my\nmeaning; which she signified by an obliging look, and made me\nunderstand her willingness to die for me; and that she was\nsatisfied to see how ready I was also to die for her. Upon this I\nstepped back, and threw the cimeter on the ground. \"I should for\never,\" said I to the genie, \"be hateful to all mankind were I to\nbe so base as to murder, not only a person whom I do not know,\nbut a lady like this, who is already on the point of expiring: do\nwith me what you please, since I am in your power; I cannot obey\nyour barbarous commands.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said the genie, \"that you both out-brave me, and insult\nmy jealousy; but both of you shall know by my treatment of you of\nwhat I am capable.\" At these words the monster took up the\ncimeter and cut off one of her hands, which left her only so much\nlife as to give me a token with the other that she bade me for\never adieu. For the blood she had lost before, and that which\ngushed out then, did not permit her to live above one or two\nmoments after this barbarous cruelty; the sight of which threw me\ninto a fit. When I was come to myself again, I expostulated with\nthe genie, why he made me languish in expectation of death:\n\"Strike,\" cried I, \"for I am ready to receive the mortal blow,\nand expect it as the greatest favour you can show me.\" But\ninstead of agreeing to that, \"Behold,\" said he, \"how genies treat\ntheir wives whom they suspect of unfaithfulness; she has received\nthee here, and were I certain that she had put any further\naffront upon me, I would put thee to death this minute: but I\nwill content myself with transforming thee into a dog, ape, lion,\nor bird; take thy choice of any of these, I will leave it to\nthyself.\"\n\nThese words gave me some hopes of being able to appease him: \"O\ngenie,\" said I, \"moderate your passion, and since you will not\ntake away my life, give it me generously. I shall always remember\nyour clemency, if you pardon me, as one of the best men in the\nworld pardoned one of his neighbours that bore him a mortal\nhatred.\" The genie asked me what had passed between those two\nneighbours, and said, he would have patience till he heard the\nstory, which I related to him; and I believe, madam, you will not\nbe displeased if I now repeat it.\n\n\n\n\n       The Story of the Envious Man, and of him that he Envied.\n\n\n\nIn a considerable town two persons dwelt in adjoining houses. One\nof them conceived such a violent hatred against the other, that\nthe hated party resolved to remove to a distance, being persuaded\nthat their being neighbours was the only cause of this animosity;\nfor though he had done him several pieces of service, he found\nthat his hatred was not diminished; he therefore sold his house,\nwith what goods he had left, and retired to the capital city of a\nkingdom which was not far distant. Here he bought a little spot\nof ground, which lay about half a league from the city; where he\nhad a convenient house, with a garden, and a pretty spacious\ncourt, wherein there was a deep well, which was not in use.\n\nThe honest man having made this purchase put on a dervise's\nhabit, intending to lead a retired life, and caused several cells\nto be made in the house, where in a short time he established a\nnumerous society of dervises. He soon came to be publicly known\nby his virtue, through which he acquired the esteem of many\npeople, as well of the commonalty as of the chief of the city. In\nshort, he was much honoured and courted by all ranks. People came\nfrom afar to recommend themselves to his prayers; and all who\nvisited him, published what blessings they received through his\nmeans.\n\nThe great reputation of this honest man having spread to the town\nfrom whence he had come, it touched the envious man so much to\nthe quick, that he left his house and affairs with a resolution\nto ruin him. With this intent he went to the new convent of\ndervises, of which his former neighbour was the head, who\nreceived him with all imaginable tokens of friendship. The\nenvious man told him that he was come on purpose to communicate a\nbusiness of importance, which he could not do but in private; and\n\"that nobody may hear us, let us,\" said he, \"take a walk in your\ncourt; and seeing night begins to draw on, command your dervises\nto retire to their cells.\" The chief of the dervises did as he\nwas required.\n\nWhen the envious man saw that he was alone with this good man, he\nbegan to tell him his errand, walking side by side in the court,\ntill he saw his opportunity; and getting the good man near the\nbrink of the well, he gave him a thrust, and pushed him into it,\nwithout being seen by any one. Having done thus, he returned, got\nout at the gate of the convent without being known, and reached\nhis own house well satisfied with his journey, being fully\npersuaded that the object of his hatred was no more; but he found\nhimself mistaken.\n\nThis old well was inhabited by fairies and genies, which happened\nluckily for the relief of the head of the convent; for they\nreceived and supported him, and carried him to the bottom, so\nthat he got no hurt. He perceived that there was something\nextraordinary in his fall, which must otherwise have cost him his\nlife; but he neither saw nor felt anything. He soon heard a\nvoice, however, which said, \"Do you know what honest man this is,\nto whom we have done this piece of service?\" Another voice\nanswered, \"No.\" To which the first replied, \"Then I will tell\nyou. This man out of charity, the purest ever known, left the\ntown he lived in, and has established himself in this place, in\nhopes to cure one of his neighbours of the envy he had conceived\nagainst him; he had acquired such a general esteem, that the\nenvious man, not able to endure it, came hither on purpose to\nruin him; and he would have accomplished his design, had it not\nbeen for the assistance we have given this honest man, whose\nreputation is so great, that the sultan, who keeps his residence\nin the neighbouring city, was to pay him a visit to-morrow, to\nrecommend the princess his daughter to his prayers.\"\n\nAnother voice asked, \"What need had the princess of the dervise's\nprayers?\" To which the first answered, \"You do not know, it\nseems, that she is possessed by genie Maimoun, the son of Dimdim,\nwho is fallen in love with her. But I well know how this good\nhead of the dervises may cure her; the thing is very easy, and I\nwill explain it to you. He has a black cat in his convent, with a\nwhite spot at the end of her tail, about the bigness of a small\npiece of Arabian money; let him only pull seven hairs out of the\nwhite spot, burn them, and smoke the princess's head with the\nfume, she will not only be immediately cured, but be so safely\ndelivered from Maimoun, the son of Dimdim, that he will never\ndare to approach her again.\"\n\nThe head of the dervises remembered every word of the\nconversation between the fairies and the genies, who remained\nsilent the remainder of the night. The next morning, as soon as\ndaylight appeared, and he could discern the nature of his\nsituation, the well being broken down in several places, he saw a\nhole, by which he crept out with ease.\n\nThe other dervises, who had been seeking for him, were rejoiced\nto see him; he gave them a brief account of the wickedness of the\nman to whom he had given so kind a reception the day before, and\nretired into his cell. Shortly after the black cat, which the\nfairies and the genies had mentioned the night before, came to\nfawn upon her master, as she was accustomed to do; he took her\nup, and pulled seven hairs from the white spot that was upon her\ntail, and laid them aside for his use when occasion should serve.\n\nSoon after sunrise the sultan, who would leave no means untried\nthat he thought likely to restore the princess to perfect health,\narrived at the gate of the convent. He commanded his guards to\nhalt, whilst he with his principal officers went in. The dervises\nreceived him with profound respect.\n\nThe sultan called their chief aside, and said, \"Good Sheik, you\nmay probably be already acquainted with the cause of my visit.\"\n\"Yes, Sir,\" replied he gravely, \"if I do not mistake, it is the\ndisease of the princess which procures me this unmerited honour.\"\n\"That is the real case,\" replied the sultan. \"You will give me\nnew life if your prayers, as I hope they may, restore my\ndaughter's health.\" \"Sir,\" said the good man, \"if your majesty\nwill be pleased to let her come hither, I am in hopes, through\nGod's assistance and favour, that she will be effectually cured.\"\n\nThe prince, transported with joy, sent immediately for his\ndaughter, who soon appeared with a numerous train of ladies and\neunuchs, but veiled, so that her face was not seen. The chief of\nthe dervises caused a pall to be held over her head, and he had\nno sooner thrown the seven hairs upon the burning coals, than the\ngenie Maimoun, the son of Dimdim, uttered a great cry, and\nwithout being seen, left the princess at liberty; upon which, she\ntook the veil from her face, and rose up to see where she was,\nsaying, \"Where am I, and who brought me hither?\" At these words\nthe sultan, overcome with excess of joy, embraced his daughter,\nand kissed her eyes; he also kissed the chief of the dervises'\nhands, and said to his officers, \"What reward does he deserve\nthat has thus cured my daughter?\" They all cried, \"He deserves\nher in marriage.\" \"That is what I had in my thoughts,\" said the\nsultan; \"and I make him my son-in-law from this moment.\" Some\ntime after the prime vizier died, and the sultan conferred the\nplace on the dervise. The sultan himself also died without heirs\nmale; upon which the religious orders and the militia consulted\ntogether, and the good man was declared and acknowledged sultan\nby general consent.\n\nThe honest dervise, having ascended the throne of his father-in-law,\nas he was one day in the midst of his courtiers on a march, espied the\nenvious man among the crowd that stood as he passed along, and calling\none of the viziers that attended him, whispered him in his ear, \"Go,\nbring me that man you see there; but take care you do not frighten\nhim.\" The vizier obeyed, and when the envious man was brought into his\npresence, the sultan said, \"Friend, I am extremely glad to see you.\"\nUpon which he called an officer, \"Go immediately,\" said he, \"and cause\nto be paid to this man out of my treasury, one hundred pieces of gold:\nlet him have also twenty loads of the richest merchandize in my\nstorehouses, and a sufficient guard to conduit him to his house.\"\nAfter he had given this charge to the officer, he bade the envious man\nfarewell, and proceeded on his march.\n\nWhen I had finished the recital of this story to the genie, the\nmurderer of the princess of the isle of Ebene, I made an\napplication of it to himself: \"O genie!\" said I, \"this bountiful\nsultan was not satisfied with merely overlooking the design of\nthe envious man to take away his life, but also treated him\nkindly, and sent him back loaded with the favours I have\nenumerated.\" In short, I employed all my eloquence to persuade\nhim to imitate so good an example, and to grant me pardon; but it\nwas impossible to move his compassion.\n\n\"All that I can do for thee,\" said he, \"is, to grant thee thy\nlife; but do not flatter thyself that I will allow thee to return\nsafe and well; I must let thee feel what I am able to do by my\nenchantments.\" So saying, he seized me violently, and carried me\nthrough the arched roof of the subterraneous palace, which opened\nto give him passage; he ascended with me into the air to such a\nheight, that the earth appeared like a little white cloud; he\nthen descended again like lightning, and alighted upon the summit\nof a mountain.\n\nHere he took up a handful of earth, and pronouncing, or rather\nmuttering, some words which I did not understand, threw it upon\nme. \"Quit,\" said he, \"the form of a man, and take that of an\nape.\" He instantly disappeared, and left me alone, transformed\ninto an ape, and overwhelmed with sorrow in a strange country,\nnot knowing whether I was near or far from my father's dominions.\n\nI descended the mountain, and entered a plain level country, which\ntook me a month to travel over, and then I came to the sea-side. It\nhappened at the time to be perfectly calm, and I espied a vessel about\nhalf a league from the shore: unwilling to lose so good an\nopportunity, I broke off a large branch from a tree, carried it into\nthe sea, and placed myself astride upon it, with a stick in each hand\nto serve me for oars.\n\nI launched out in this posture, and rowed towards the ship. When\nI had approached sufficiently near to be seen, I exhibited to the\nseamen and passengers on the deck an extraordinary spectacle, and\nall of them regarded me with astonishment. In the meantime I got\non board, and laying hold of a rope, jumped upon the deck, but\nhaving lost my speech I found myself in great perplexity: and\nindeed the risk I ran was not less than when I was at the mercy\nof the genie.\n\nThe merchants, being both superstitious and scrupulous, thought\nif they received me on board I should be the occasion of some\nmisfortune to them during their voyage. On this account one of\nthem said, \"I will destroy him with a blow of this handspike;\"\nanother, \"I will shoot an arrow through his body;\" and a third,\n\"Let us throw him into the sea.\" Some one of them would not have\nfailed to carry his threat into execution had I not gone to the\ncaptain, thrown myself at his feet, and taken hold of his skirt\nin a supplicating posture. This action, together with the tears\nwhich he saw gush from my eyes, moved his compassion. He took me\nunder his protection, threatened to be revenged on any one that\nwould do me the least hurt, and loaded me with a thousand\ncaresses. On my part, though I had not power to speak, I showed\nby my gestures every mark of gratitude in my power.\n\nThe wind that succeeded the calm was not strong, but favourable;\nit continued to blow in the same direction for fifty days, and\nbrought us safe to the port of a city, well peopled, and of great\ntrade, the capital of a powerful state, where we came to anchor.\n\nOur vessel was instantly surrounded with an infinite number of\nboats full of people, who came to congratulate their friends on\ntheir safe arrival, or to inquire for those they had left behind\nthem in the country from whence they had come, or out of\ncuriosity to see a ship that had performed so long a voyage.\n\nAmongst the rest, some officers came on board, desiring in the\nname of the sultan to speak with the merchants. The merchants\nappearing, one of the officers told them, \"The sultan our master\nhath commanded us to acquaint you, that he rejoices in your safe\narrival, and beseeches each of you to take the trouble to write a\nfew lines upon this roll. That you may understand the design of\nthis request, you must know that we had a prime vizier, who\nbesides possessing great abilities for the management of public\naffairs could write in the highest perfection. This minister a\nfew days since died. The event has greatly affected the sultan;\nand since he can never behold his writing without admiration, he\nhas made a solemn vow, not to give the place to any one who\ncannot write equally well. Many have presented specimens of their\nskill; but to this day, no one in the empire has been judged\nworthy to supply the vizier's place.\"\n\nThose of the merchants who thought they could write well enough\nto aspire to this high dignity, wrote one after another what they\nthought fit. After they had done, I advanced, and took the roll\nout of the gentleman's hand; but all the people, especially the\nmerchants, cried out, that I would tear it, or throw it into the\nsea, till they saw how properly I held the roll, and made a sign\nthat I would write in my turn: their apprehensions then changed\ninto wonder. However, as they had never seen an ape that could\nwrite, and could not be persuaded that I was more ingenious than\nothers of my kind, they wished to take the roll out of my hand;\nbut the captain took my part once more. \"Let him alone,\" said he,\n\"allow him to write. If he only scribbles the paper, I promise\nyou that I will immediately punish him. If, on the contrary, he\nwrites well, as I hope he will, because I never saw an ape so\nclever and ingenious, and so quick of apprehension, I declare\nthat I will adopt him as my son.\" Perceiving that no one opposed\nmy design, I took the pen, and wrote six sorts of hands used\namong the Arabians, and each specimen contained an extemporary\ndistich or quatrain in praise of the sultan. My writing not only\nexcelled that of the merchants, but was such as they had not\nbefore seen in that country. When I had done, the officers took\nthe roll, and carried it to the sultan.\n\nThe sultan took little notice of any of the writings, except\nmine, which pleased him so much that he said to the officers,\n\"Take the finest horse in my stable, with the richest trappings,\nand a robe of the most sumptuous brocade to put on the person who\nwrote the six hands, and bring him thither.\" At this command the\nofficers could not forbear laughing. The sultan was incensed at\ntheir rudeness, and would have punished them had they not\nexplained: \"Sir,\" said they, \"we humbly beg your majesty's\npardon: these hands were not written by a man, but by an ape.\"\n\"What do you say?\" exclaimed the sultan. \"Those admirable\ncharacters, are they not written by the hands of a man?\" \"No,\nSir,\" replied the officers; \"we assure your majesty that it was\nan ape, who wrote them in our presence.\" The sultan was too much\nsurprised at this account not to desire a sight of me, and\ntherefore said, \"Do what I command you, and bring me speedily\nthat wonderful ape.\"\n\nThe officers returned to the vessel and shewed the captain their\norder, who answered, \"The sultan's command must be obeyed.\"\nWhereupon they clothed me with the rich brocade robe, and carried\nme ashore, where they set me on horseback, whilst the sultan\nwaited for me at his palace with a great number of courtiers,\nwhom he gathered together to do me the more honour.\n\nThe procession commenced; the harbour, the streets, the public\nplaces, windows, terraces, palaces, and houses, were filled with\nan infinite number of people of all ranks, who flocked from every\npart of the city to see me; for the rumour was spread in a\nmoment, that the sultan had chosen an ape to be his grand vizier,\nand after having served for a spectacle to the people, who could\nnot forbear to express their surprise by redoubling their shouts\nand cries, I arrived at the sultan's palace.\n\nI found the prince on his throne in the midst of the grandees; I\nmade my obeisance three times very low, and at last kneeled and\nkissed the ground before him, and afterwards took my seat in the\nposture of an ape. The whole assembly viewed me with admiration,\nand could not comprehend how it was possible that an ape should\nso well understand how to pay the sultan his due respect; and he\nhimself was more astonished than any. In short, the usual\nceremony of the audience would have been complete, could I have\nadded speech to my behaviour; but apes never speak, and the\nadvantage I had of having been a man did not now yield me that\nprivilege.\n\nThe sultan dismissed his courtiers, and none remained by him but\nthe chief of the eunuchs, a little young slave, and myself. He\nwent from his chamber of audience into his own apartment, where\nhe ordered dinner to be brought. As he sat at table he made me a\nsign to approach and eat with them: to shew my obedience I kissed\nthe ground, arose, and placed myself at the table, and ate with\ndiscretion and moderation.\n\nBefore the table was cleared, I espied a standish, which I made a\nsign to have brought me; having got it, I wrote upon a large\npeach some verses expressive of my acknowledgment to the sultan;\nwho having read them after I had presented the peach to him, was\nstill more astonished. When the things were removed, they brought\nhim a particular liquor, of which he caused them to give me a\nglass. I drank, and wrote upon the glass some new verses, which\nexplained the state I was reduced to, after many sufferings. The\nsultan read these likewise, and said, \"A man that was capable of\ndoing so much would be above the greatest of his species.\"\n\nThe sultan caused to be brought to him a chessboard, and asked me\nby a sign if I understood that game, and would play with him? I\nkissed the ground, and laying my hand upon my head, signified\nthat I was ready to receive that honour. He won the first game,\nbut I won the second and third; and perceiving he was somewhat\ndispleased at my success, I made a quatrain to satisfy him; in\nwhich I told him that two potent armies had been fighting\nfuriously all day, but that they concluded a peace towards the\nevening, and passed the remaining part of the night very amicably\ntogether upon the field of battle.\n\nSo many circumstances appearing to the sultan beyond whatever had\neither been seen or known of the cleverness or sense of apes, he\ndetermined not to be the only witness of these prodigies himself,\nbut having a daughter, called the Lady of Beauty, on whom the\nchief of the eunuchs, then present, waited; \"Go,\" said the sultan\nto him, \"and bid your lady come hither: I am desirous she should\nshare my pleasure.\"\n\nThe eunuch went, and immediately brought the princess, who had\nher face uncovered; but she had no sooner come into the room,\nthan she put on her veil, and said to the sultan, \"Sir, your\nmajesty must needs have forgotten yourself; I am surprised that\nyour majesty has sent for me to appear among men.\" \"How,\ndaughter!\" said the sultan, \"you do not know what you say: there\nis no one here, but the little slave, the eunuch your governor,\nand myself, who have the liberty to see your face; and yet you\nlower your veil, and blame me for having sent for you.\" \"Sir,\"\nsaid the princess, \"your majesty shall soon understand that I am\nnot in the wrong. That seeming ape is a young prince, son of a\npowerful sultan, and has been metamorphosed into an ape by\nenchantment. A genie, son of the daughter of Eblis, has\nmaliciously done him this wrong, after having cruelly taken away\nthe life of the princess of the isle of Ebene.\"\n\nThe sultan, astonished at this declaration, turned towards me,\nand speaking no more by signs, but in plain words, asked me, if\nwhat his daughter said was true? Finding I could not speak, I put\nmy hand to my head' to signify that what the princess spoke was\ncorrect. Upon this the sultan said again to his daughter, \"How do\nyou know that this prince has been transformed by enchantments\ninto an ape?\" \"Sir,\" replied the Lady of Beauty, \"your majesty\nmay remember that when I was past my infancy I had an old lady\nwho waited on me; she was a most expert magician, and taught me\nseventy rules of magic, by virtue of which I can, in the\ntwinkling of an eye, transport your capital into the midst of the\nsea, or beyond mount Caucasus. By this science I know all\nenchanted persons at first sight: I know who they are, and by\nwhom they have been enchanted; therefore do not be surprised if I\nshould forthwith relieve this prince, in spite of the\nenchantments, from that which prevents his appearing in your\nsight in his natural form.\" \"Daughter,\" said the sultan, \"I did\nnot believe you to have understood so much.\" \"Sir,\" replied the\nprincess, \"these things are curious and worth knowing; but I\nthink I ought not to boast of them.\" \"Since it is so,\" said the\nsultan, \"you can dispel the prince's enchantment.\" \"Yes, sir,\"\nsaid the princess, \"I can restore him to his original shape.\" \"Do\nit then,\" said the sultan, \"you cannot do me a greater pleasure;\nfor I will have him to be my vizier, and he shall marry you.\"\n\"Sir,\" said the princess, \"I am ready to obey you in all that you\nshould be pleased to command me.\"\n\nThe princess, the Lady of Beauty, went into her apartment, and\nbrought thence a knife, which had some Hebrew words engraven on\nthe blade: she made the sultan, the master of the eunuchs, the\nlittle slave, and myself, descend into a private court of the\npalace, and there left us under a gallery that went round it. She\nplaced herself in the middle of the court, where she made a great\ncircle, and within it she wrote several words in Arabian\ncharacters, some of them ancient.\n\nWhen she had finished and prepared the circle as she thought fit,\nshe placed herself in the centre of it, where she began\nincantations, and repeated verses of the Koraun. The air grew\ninsensibly dark, as if it had been night, and the whole world\nwere about to be dissolved: we found ourselves struck with\nconsternation, and our fear increased when we saw the genie, the\nson of the daughter of Eblis, appear suddenly in the shape of a\nlion of a gigantic size.\n\nAs soon as the princess perceived this monster, \"Dog,\" said she,\n\"instead of creeping before me, dare you present yourself in this\nshape, thinking to frighten me?\" \"And thou,\" replied the lion,\n\"art thou not afraid to break the treaty which was solemnly made\nand confirmed between us by oath, not to wrong or do one another\nany injury?\" \"Wretch,\" replied the princess, \"I justly may\nreproach thee with having done so.\" The lion answered fiercely,\n\"Thou shalt quickly have thy reward for the trouble thou hast\ngiven me:\" with that he opened his monstrous jaws, and sprang\nforward to devour her; but she, being on her guard, stepped back,\ngot time to pull out one of her hairs, and by pronouncing three\nor four words, changed it into a sharp sword, with which she cut\nthe lion in two through the middle.\n\nThe two parts of the lion disappeared, while the head changed\ninto a large scorpion. Immediately the princess turned herself\ninto a serpent, and fought the scorpion, who, finding himself\nworsted, took the shape of an eagle, and flew away: but the\nserpent at the same time took also the shape of an eagle, that\nwas black and much stronger, and pursued him, so that we lost\nsight of them both.\n\nSome time after they had disappeared, the ground opened before\nus, and out of it came forth a black and white cat, with her hair\nstanding on end, and mewing in a frightful manner; a black wolf\nfollowed close after her, and gave her no time to rest. The cat,\nbeing thus hard pressed, changed into a worm, and being near a\npomegranate accidentally fallen from a tree on the side of a\ncanal which was deep, but not broad, pierced the pomegranate in\nan instant, and hid itself, but the pomegranate swelled\nimmediately, and became as big as a gourd, which, mounting up to\nthe roof of the gallery, rolled there for some time backward and\nforward; it then fell down again into the court, and broke into\nseveral pieces.\n\nThe wolf had in the meanwhile transformed itself into a cock, and\nnow fell to picking up the seeds of the pomegranate one after\nanother; but finding no more, he came towards us with his wings\nspread, making a great noise, as if he would ask us whether there\nwere any more seed. There was one lying on the brink of the\ncanal, which the cock perceiving as he went back, ran speedily\nthither; but just as he was going to pick it up, the seed rolled\ninto the river, and turned into a little fish.\n\nThe cock leaped into the river, turned into a pike, and pursued\nthe small fish; they continued both under water above two hours,\nand we knew not what was become of them, but suddenly we heard\nterrible cries, which made us tremble, and a little while after\nwe saw the genie and princess all in flames. They threw flashes\nof fire out of their mouths at each other, till they came to\nclose combat; then the two fires increased, with a thick burning\nsmoke which mounted so high that we had reason to apprehend it\nwould set the palace on fire. But we very soon had a more\npressing occasion of fear, for the genie having got loose from\nthe princess, came to the gallery where we stood, and blew flames\nof fire upon us. We must all have perished had not the princess,\nrunning to our assistance, forced him to retire, and defend\nhimself against her; yet, notwithstanding all her exertions, she\ncould not hinder the sultan's beard from being burnt, and his\nface scorched, the chief of the eunuchs from being stifled, and a\nspark from entering my right eye, and making it blind. The sultan\nand I expected but death, when we heard a cry of \"Victory!\nVictory!\" and instantly the princess appeared in her natural\nshape, but the genie was reduced to a heap of ashes.\n\nThe princess approached us, and hastily called for a cup-full of\nwater, which the young slave, who had received no hurt, brought\nher. She took it, and after pronouncing some words over it, threw\nit upon me, saying, \"If thou art become an ape by enchantment,\nchange thy shape, and take that of a man which thou hadst\nbefore.\" These words were hardly uttered, when I again became a\nman, in every respect as I was before my transformation,\nexcepting the loss of my eye.\n\nI was prepared to return the princess my thanks, but she\nprevented me by addressing herself to her father: \"Sir, I have\ngained the victory over the genie, as your majesty may see; but\nit is a victory that costs me dear; I have but a few minutes to\nlive, and you will not have the satisfaction to make the match\nyou intended; the fire has pierced me during the terrible combat,\nand I find it is gradually consuming me. This would not have\nhappened, had I perceived the last of the pomegranate seeds, and\nswallowed it, as I did the others when I was changed into a cock:\nthe genie had fled thither as to his last intrenchment, and upon\nthat the success of the combat depended, which would have been\nsuccessful, and without danger to me. This oversight obliged me\nto have recourse to fire, and to fight with those mighty arms as\nI did, between heaven and earth, in your presence; for, in spite\nof all his redoubtable art and experience, I made the genie know\nthat I understood more than he; I have conquered and reduced him\nto ashes, but I cannot escape death, which is approaching.\"\n\nThe sultan suffered the princess, the Lady of Beauty, to go on\nwith the recital of her combat, and when she had done, addressed\nher in a tone that sufficiently testified his grief; \"My\ndaughter,\" said he, \"you see in what condition your father is;\nalas! I wonder that I am yet alive! Your governor, the eunuch, is\ndead, and the prince whom you have delivered from his enchantment\nhas lost one of his eyes.\" He could say no more, for his tears,\nsighs, and sobs, deprived him of the power of utterance.\n\nSuddenly the princess exclaimed, \"I burn! I burn!\" She found that\nthe fire had at last seized upon her vital parts, which made her\nstill cry \"I burn!\" until death had put an end to her intolerable\npains. The effect of that fire was so extraordinary, that in a\nfew moments she was wholly reduced to ashes, as the genie had\nbeen.\n\nI cannot tell you, madam, how much I was grieved at so dismal a\nspectacle; I had rather all my life have continued an ape or a\ndog, than to have seen my benefactress thus miserably perish. The\nsultan being afflicted all that can be imagined, cried piteously,\nand beat himself on his head and breast, until being quite\novercome with grief, he fainted away, which made me fear for his\nlife. In the mean time, the eunuchs and officers came running at\nthe sultan's lamentations, and with much difficulty brought him\nto himself. It was not necessary that the prince or myself should\nrelate the circumstances of the adventure, to convince them of\nthe affliction it had occasioned us. The two heaps of ashes, to\nwhich the princess and the genie had been reduced, were a\nsufficient demonstration. The sultan was hardly able to stand,\nbut was under the necessity of being supported to his apartment.\n\nWhen the knowledge of this tragical event had spread through the\npalace and the city, all the people bewailed the misfortune of\nthe princess, the Lady of Beauty, and commiserated the sultan's\naffliction. Public mourning was observed for seven days, and many\nceremonies were performed. The ashes of the genie were thrown\ninto the air, but those of the princess were collected into a\nprecious urn, to be preserved, and the urn was deposited in a\nsuperb mausoleum, constructed for that purpose on the spot where\nthe princess had been consumed.\n\nThe grief of the sultan for the loss of his daughter confined him\nto his chamber for a whole month. Before he had fully recovered\nhis strength he sent for me: \"Prince,\" said he, \"attend to the\ncommands I now give you; your life must answer if you do not\ncarry them into execution.\" I assured him of exalt obedience;\nupon which he went on thus: \"I have constantly lived in perfect\nfelicity, but by your arrival all the happiness I possessed has\nvanished; my daughter is dead, her governor is no more, and it is\nonly through a miracle that I am myself yet alive You are the\ncause of all these misfortunes, under which it is impossible that\nI should be comforted; depart hence therefore in peace, without\nfarther delay, for I must myself perish if you remain any longer.\nI am persuaded that your presence brings misfortune with it.\nDepart, and take care never to appear again in my dominions. No\nconsideration whatever shall hinder me from making you repent\nyour temerity should you violate my injunction.\" I was going to\nspeak, but he prevented me by words full of anger; and I was\nobliged to quit the palace, rejected, banished, an outcast from\nthe world. Before I left the city I went into a bagnio, here I\ncaused my beard and eyebrows to be shaved, and put on a\ncalender's habit. I began my journey, not so much deploring my\nown miseries, as the death of the two fair princesses, of which I\nhave been the occasion. I passed through many countries without\nmaking myself known; at last I resolved to come to Bagdad, in\nhopes of getting myself introduced to the commander of the\nfaithful, to move his compassion by relating to him my\nunfortunate adventures. I arrived this evening, and the first man\nI met was this calender, our brother, who spoke before me. You\nknow the remaining part, madam, and the cause of my having the\nhonour to be here.\n\nWhen the second calender had concluded his story, Zobeide, to\nwhom he had addressed his speech, said, \"It is well, you are at\nliberty.\" But instead of departing, he also petitioned the lady\nto shew him the same favour vouchsafed to the first calender, and\nwent and sat down by him.\n\n\n\n\n               The History of the Third Calender.\n\n\n\nMy story, most honourable lady, very much differs from what you\nhave already heard. The two princes who have spoken before me\nhave each lost an eye by the pure effects of their destiny, but\nmine I lost through my own fault, and by hastening to seek my own\nmisfortune, as you shall hear by the sequel of the story.\n\nMy name is Agib, and I am the son of a sultan who was called\nCassib. After his death I took possession of his dominions, and\ncontinued in the city where he had resided. It is situated on the\nsea-coast, has one of the finest and safest harbours in the\nworld, an arsenal capable of fitting out for sea one hundred and\nfifty men of war, besides merchantmen and light vessels. My\nkingdom is composed of several fine provinces upon the main land,\nbesides a number of valuable islands, which lie almost in sight\nof my capital.\n\nMy first object was to visit the provinces: I afterwards caused\nmy whole fleet to be fitted out, and went to my islands to gain\nthe hearts of my subjects by my presence, and to confirm them in\ntheir loyalty. These voyages gave me some taste for navigation,\nin which I took so much pleasure, that I resolved to make some\ndiscoveries beyond my own territories; to which end I caused ten\nships to be fitted out, embarked, and set sail.\n\nOur voyage was very pleasant for forty days successively, but on\nthe forty-first night the wind became contrary, and withal so\nboisterous that we were near being lost: about break of day the\nstorm abated, the clouds dispersed, and the weather became fair.\nWe reached an island, where we remained two days to take in fresh\nprovisions; and then put off again to sea. After ten days' sail\nwe were in hopes of seeing land, for the tempests we had\nexperienced had so much abated my curiosity, that I gave orders\nto steer back to my own coast; but I perceived at the same time\nthat my pilot knew not where we were. Upon the tenth day, a\nseaman being sent to look out for land from the mast head, gave\nnotice that on starboard and larboard he could see nothing but\nsky and sea, but that right a-head he perceived a great\nblackness.\n\nThe pilot changed colour at this account, and throwing his turban\non the deck with one hand, and beating his breast with the other,\ncried, \"Oh, Sir, we are all lost; not one of us can escape; and\nwith all my skill it is not in my power to effect our\ndeliverance.\" Having spoken thus, he lamented like a man who\nforesaw unavoidable ruin; his despondence threw the whole ship's\ncrew into consternation. I asked him what reason he had thus to\ndespair? He exclaimed, \"The tempest has brought us so far out of\nour course, that to-morrow about noon we shall be near the black\nmountain, or mine of adamant, which at this very minute draws all\nyour fleet towards it, by virtue of the iron in your ships; and\nwhen we approach within a certain distance, the attraction of the\nadamant will have such force, that all the nails will be drawn\nout of the sides and bottoms of the ships, and fasten to the\nmountain, so that your vessels will fall to pieces and sink.\n\n\"This mountain,\" continued the pilot, \"is inaccessible. On the\nsummit there is a dome of fine brass, supported by pillars of the\nsame metal, and on the top of that dome stands a horse, likewise\nof brass, with a rider on his back, who has a plate or lead fixed\nto his breast, upon which some talismanic characters are\nengraver. Sir, the tradition is, that this statue is the chief\ncause why so many ships and men have been lost and sunk in this\nplace, and that it will ever continue to be fatal to all those\nwho have the misfortune to approach, until it shall be thrown\ndown.\"\n\nThe pilot having finished his discourse, began to weep afresh,\nand all the rest of the ship's company did the same. I had no\nother thought but that my days were there to terminate. In the\nmean time every one began to provide for his own safety, and to\nthat end took all imaginable precaution; and being uncertain of\nthe event, they all made one another their heirs, by virtue of a\nwill, for the benefit of those that should happen to be saved.\n\nThe next morning we distinctly perceived the black mountain.\nAbout noon we were so near, that we found what the pilot had\nforetold to be true; for all the nails and iron in the ships flew\ntowards the mountain, where they fixed, by the violence of the\nattraction, with a horrible noise; the ships split asunder, and\ntheir cargoes sunk into the sea. All my people were drowned, but\nGod had mercy on me, and permitted me to save myself by means of\na plank, which the wind drove ashore just at the foot of the\nmountain. I did not receive the least hurt, and my good fortune\nbrought me to a landing place, where there were steps that led up\nto the summit of the mountain.\n\nAt the sight of these steps, for there was not a space of ground\neither on the right or left whereon a man could set his foot, I\ngave thanks to God; and recommended myself to his holy\nprotection, as I began to ascend the steps, which were so narrow,\nthat had the wind raged it would have thrown me into the sea.\nBut, at last, I reached the top, without accident. I went into\nthe dome, and kneeling on the ground, gave God thanks for his\nmercies.\n\nI passed the night under the dome. In my sleep an old grave man\nappeared to me, and said, \"Hearken, Agib; as soon as thou art\nawake dig up the ground under thy feet: thou wilt find a bow of\nbrass, and three arrows of lead, that are made under certain\nconstellations, to deliver mankind from the many calamities that\nthreaten them. Shoot the three arrows at the statue, and the\nrider will fall into the sea, but the horse will fall by thy\nside; thou must bury it in the place where thou findest the bow\nand arrows: this being done, the sea will swell and rise to the\nfoot of the dome. When it has come so high, thou wilt perceive a\nboat with one man holding an oar in each hand; this man is also\nof metal, but different from that thou hast thrown down; step on\nboard, but without mentioning the name of God, and let him\nconduct thee. He will in ten days' time bring thee into another\nsea, where thou shalt find an opportunity to return to thy\ncountry, provided, as I have told thee, thou dost not mention the\nname of God during the whole voyage.\"\n\nThis was the substance of the old man's discourse. When I awoke I\nfelt much comforted by the vision, and did not fail to observe\neverything that he had commanded me. I took the bow and arrows\nout of the ground, shot at the horseman, and with the third arrow\nI overthrew him; he fell into the sea, and the horse fell by my\nside; I buried it in the place whence I took the bow and arrows.\nIn the mean time, the sea swelled and rose up by degrees. When it\ncame as high as the foot of the dome upon the top of the\nmountain, I saw, afar off, a boat rowing towards me, and I\nreturned God thanks that everything succeeded according to my\ndream.\n\nAt last the boat made land, and I perceived the man was made of\nmetal, as I had dreamt. I stept aboard, and took great heed not\nto pronounce the name of God, neither spoke I one word. I sat\ndown, and the man of metal began to row off from the mountain. He\nrowed without ceasing till the ninth day, when I saw some\nislands, which gave me hopes that I should escape all the danger\nthat I feared. The excess of my joy made me forget what I was\nforbidden: \"Blessed be God,\" said I; \"God be praised.\"\n\nI had no sooner spoken these words, than the boat sunk with the\nman of metal, leaving me upon the surface. I swam the remaining\npart of the day towards that land which appeared nearest. A very\ndark night succeeded, and not knowing where I was, I swam at\nrandom. My strength at last began to fail, and I despaired of\nbeing able to save myself, but the wind began to blow hard, and a\nwave vast as a mountain threw me on a flat, where it left me, and\nretreated. I made haste ashore, fearing another wave might wash\nme back. The first thing I did was to strip, wring the water out\nof my clothes, and lay them on the dry sand, which was still warm\nfrom the heat of the day.\n\nNext morning the sun dried my clothes; I put them on, and went\nforward to discover what sort of country I was in. I had not\nwalked far before I found I was upon a desert, though a very\npleasant, island, as it displayed several sorts of trees and wild\nshrubs bearing fruit; but I perceived it was far from the\ncontinent, which much diminished the joy I felt at having escaped\nthe danger of the seas. Nevertheless, I recommended myself to God\nand prayed him to dispose of me according to his will.\nImmediately after, I saw a vessel coming from the main land,\nbefore the wind, directly towards the island. I doubted not but\nthey were coming to anchor there; and being uncertain what sort\nof people they might be, whether friends or foes, I thought it\nnot safe to be seen. I got up into a very thick tree, from whence\nI might safely view them. The vessel came into a little creek,\nwhere ten slaves landed, carrying a spade and other instruments\nfor digging up the ground. They went towards the middle of the\nisland, where I saw them stop, and dig for a considerable time,\nafter which I thought I perceived them lift up a trap door. They\nreturned again to the vessel, and unloaded several sorts of\nprovisions and furniture, which they carried to the place where\nthey had been digging: they then descended, which made me suppose\nit led to a subterraneous dwelling.\n\nI saw them once more go to the ship, and return soon after with\nan old man, who led in his hand a handsome lad of about fourteen\nor fifteen years of age. They all descended when the trap door\nhad been opened. After they had again come up, they let down the\ntrap door, covered it over with earth, and returned to the creek\nwhere the ship lay, but I saw not the young man in their company.\nThis made me believe that he had staid behind in the\nsubterraneous place, a circumstance which exceedingly surprised\nme.\n\nThe old man and the slaves went on board, and getting the vessel\nunder weigh, steered their course towards the main land. When I\nperceived they had proceeded to such a distance that I could not\nbe seen by them, I came down from the tree, and went directly to\nthe place where I had seen the ground broken. I removed the earth\nby degrees, till I came to a stone that was two or three feet\nsquare. I lifted it up, and found that it covered the head of a\nflight of stairs, which were also of stone. I descended, and at\nthe bottom found myself in a large room, furnished with a carpet,\na couch covered with tapestry, and cushions of rich stuff, upon\nwhich the young man sat, with a fan in his hand. These things,\ntogether with fruits and flower-pot standing about him, I saw by\nthe light of two wax tapers. The young man, when he perceived me\nwas considerably alarmed; but to quiet his apprehensions, I said\nto him as I entered, \"Whoever you are, Sir, do not fear; a\nsultan, and the son of a sultan, as I am, is not capable of doing\nyou any injury: on the contrary, it is probable that your good\ndestiny may have brought me hither to deliver you out of this\ntomb, where it seems you have been buried alive, for reasons to\nme unknown. But what surprises me (for you must know that I have\nbeen witness to all that hath passed since your coming into this\nisland), is, that you suffered yourself to be entombed in this\nplace without any resistance.\"\n\nThe young man felt assured at these words, and with a smiling\ncountenance requested me to take a seat by him. When I had\ncomplied, he said \"Prince, I am to acquaint you with what will\nsurprise you by its singularity.\n\n\"My father is a merchant jeweller, who, by his industry and\nprofessional skill, has acquired considerable property. He has\nmany slaves, and also agents, whom he employs as supercargoes in\nhis own ships, to maintain his correspondence at the several\ncourts, which he furnishes with precious stones.\n\n\"He had been long married without having issue, when it was\nintimated to him in a dream that he should have a son, though his\nlife would be but short; at which he was much concerned when he\nawoke. Some days after, my mother acquainted him that she was\nwith child, and what she supposed to be the time of her\nconception agreed exactly with the day of his dream. At the end\nof nine months she was brought to bed of me; which occasioned\ngreat joy in the family.\n\n\"My father, who had observed the very moment of my birth,\nconsulted astrologers about my nativity; and was answered, 'Your\nson shall live happily till the age of fifteen, when his life\nwill be exposed to a danger which he will hardly be able to\nescape. But if his good destiny preserve him beyond that time, he\nwill live to a great age. It will be' (said they) 'when the\nstatue of brass, that stands upon the summit of the mountain of\nadamant, shall be thrown into the sea by prince Agib, son of king\nCassib; and, as the stars prognosticate, your son will be killed\nfifty days afterwards by that prince.'\n\n\"My father took all imaginable care of my education until this\nyear, which is the fifteenth of my age. He had notice given him\nyesterday, that the statue of brass had been thrown into the sea\nabout ten days ago. This news alarmed him much.\n\n\"Upon the prediction the astrologers, he sought by all means\npossible to falsify my horoscope, and to preserve my life. He\ntook the precaution to form this subterranean habitation to hide\nme in, till the expiration of the fifty days after the throwing\ndown of the statue; and therefore, as it is ten days since this\nhappened, he came hastily hither to conceal me, and promised at\nthe end of forty days to return and fetch me away. For my own\npart I am sanguine in my hopes, and cannot believe that prince\nAgib will seek for me in a place under ground, in the midst of a\ndesert island.\"\n\nWhile the jeweller's son was relating this story, I laughed at\nthe astrologers who had foretold that I should take away his\nlife; for I thought myself so far from being likely to verify\ntheir prediction, that he had scarcely done speaking, when I told\nhim with great joy, \"Dear Sir, trust in the goodness of God, and\nfear nothing; consider it as a debt you had to pay; but that you\nare acquitted of it from this hour. I rejoice that after my\nshipwreck I came so fortunately hither to defend you against all\nwho would attempt your life. I will not leave you till the forty\ndays have expired, of which the foolish astrologers have made you\napprehensive; and in the mean while I will do you all the service\nin my power: after which, with leave of your father and yourself,\nI shall have the benefit of getting to the main land in your\nvessel; and when I am returned into my kingdom, I will remember\nthe obligations I owe you, and endeavour to demonstrate my\ngratitude by suitable acknowledgments.\"\n\nThis discourse encouraged the jeweller's son, and inspired him\nwith confidence. I took care not to inform him I was the very\nAgib whom he dreaded, lest I should alarm his fears, and used\nevery precaution not to give him any cause to suspect who I was.\nWe passed the time in various conversation till night came on. I\nfound the young man of ready wit, and partook with him of his\nprovisions, of which he had enough to have lasted beyond the\nforty days, though he had had more guests than myself. After\nsupper we conversed for some time; and at last retired to bed.\n\nThe next morning, when he arose, I held the basin of water to\nhim; I also provided dinner, and at the proper time placed it on\nthe table: after we had dined I invented a play for our\namusement, not only for that day, but for those that followed. I\nprepared supper after the same manner as I had done the dinner;\nand having supped, we retired to bed as before. We had sufficient\ntime to contrast mutual friendship and esteem for each other. I\nfound he loved me; and I on my part regarded him with so much\naffection, that I often said to myself, \"Those astrologers who\npredicted to his father that his son should die by my hand were\nimpostors; for it is not possible that I could commit so base a\ncrime.\"  In short, madam, we spent thirty-nine days in the\npleasantest manner possible in this subterraneous abode.\n\nThe fortieth day appeared: and in the morning, when the young man\nawoke, he said to me with a transport of joy that he could not\nrestrain, \"Prince, this is the fortieth day, and I am not dead,\nthanks to God and your good company. My father will not fail to\nmake you, very shortly, every acknowledgment of his gratitude for\nyour attentions, and will furnish you with every necessary\naccommodation for your return to your kingdom: but,\" continued\nhe, \"while we are waiting his arrival, I beg you will provide me\nsome warm water in that portable bath, that I may wash my body\nand change my dress, to receive my father with the more respect.\"\n\nI set the water on the fire, and when it was hot poured it into\nthe moveable bath; the youth went in, and I both washed and\nrubbed him. At last he came out, and laid himself down in his bed\nthat I had prepared. After he had slept a while, he awoke, and\nsaid, \"Dear prince, pray do me the favour to fetch me a melon and\nsome sugar, that I may eat some to refresh me.\"\n\nOut of several melons that remained I took the best, and laid it\non a plate; and as I could not find a knife to cut it with, I\nasked the young man if he knew where there was one. \"There is\none,\" said he, \"upon this cornice over my head:\" I accordingly\nsaw it there, and made so much haste to reach it, that, while I\nhad it in my hand, my foot being entangled in the carpet, I fell\nmost unhappily upon the young man, and the knife pierced his\nheart.\n\nAt this spectacle I cried out with agony. I beat my head, my\nface, and breast; I tore my clothes; I threw myself on the ground\nwith unspeakable sorrow and grief! \"Alas!\" I exclaimed, \"there\nwere only some hours wanting to have put him out of that danger\nfrom which he sought sanctuary here; and when I thought the\ndanger past, then I became his murderer, and verified the\nprediction. But, O Lord!\" said I, lifting up my face and my hands\nto heaven, \"I intreat thy pardon, and if I be guilty of his\ndeath, let me not live any longer.\"\n\nAfter this misfortune I would have embraced death without any\nreluctance, had it presented itself to me. But what we wish,\nwhether it be good or evil, will not always happen according to\nour desire. Nevertheless, considering that all my tears and\nsorrows would not restore the young man to life, and, the forty\ndays being expired, I might be surprised by his father, I quitted\nthe subterranean dwelling, laid down the great stone upon the\nentrance, and covered it with earth.\n\nI had scarcely done, when, casting my eyes upon the sea towards\nthe main land, I perceived the vessel coming to fetch away the\nyoung man. I began then to consider what I had best do. I said to\nmyself, \"If I am seen by the old man, he will certainly seize me,\nand perhaps cause me to be massacred by his slaves, when he has\ndiscovered that his son is killed: all that I can allege to\njustify myself will not convince him of my innocence. It is\nbetter then to withdraw while it is in my power, than to expose\nmyself to his resentment.\"\n\nThere happened to be near a large tree thick with leaves, which I\nascended in hopes of concealment, and was no sooner fixed in a\nplace where I could not be perceived, than I saw the vessel come\nto the creek where she lay the first time.\n\nThe old man with his slaves landed immediately, and advanced\ntowards the subterranean dwelling, with a countenance that shewed\nsome hope; but when they saw the earth had been newly removed,\nthey changed colour, particularly the old man. They lifted up the\nstone, and went down; they called the young man by his name, but\nhe not answering, their fears increased. They proceeded to seek\nhim; and at length found him lying upon the bed with the knife in\nhis heart, for I had not power to take it out. At this sight they\ncried out lamentably, which increased my sorrow: the old man fell\ndown in a swoon. The slaves, to give him air, brought him up in\ntheir arms, and laid him at the foot of the tree where I was\nconcealed; but notwithstanding all the pains they took to recover\nhim, the unfortunate father continued a long while insensible,\nand made them more than once despair of his life; but at last he\ncame to himself. The slaves then brought up his son's corpse,\ndressed in his best apparel, and when they had made a grave they\nburied it. The old man, supported by two slaves, and his face\ncovered with tears, threw the first earth upon the body, after\nwhich the slaves filled up the grave.\n\nThis being done, all the furniture was brought up, and, with the\nremaining provisions, put on board the vessel. The old man,\novercome with sorrow, and not being able to stand, was laid upon\na litter, and carried to the ship, which stood out to sea, and in\na short time was out of sight.\n\nAfter the old man and his slaves were gone, I was left alone upon\nthe island. I lay that night in the subterranean dwelling, which\nthey had shut up, and when the day came, I walked round the\nisland, and stopped in such places as I thought most proper for\nrepose.\n\nI led this wearisome life for a whole month. At the expiration of\nthis time I perceived that the sea had receded; that the island\nhad increased in dimensions; the main land too seemed to be\ndrawing nearer. In fact, the water sunk so low, that there\nremained between me and the continent but a small stream, which I\ncrossed, and the water did not reach above the middle of my leg.\nI walked so long a way upon the slime and sand that I was very\nweary: at last I got upon more firm ground, and when I had\nproceeded some distance from the sea, I saw a good way before me\nsomething that resembled a great fire, which afforded me some\ncomfort; for I said to myself, I shall find here some persons, it\nnot being possible that this fire should kindle of itself. As I\ndrew nearer, however, I found my error, and discovered that what\nI had taken for a fire was a castle of red copper, which the\nbeams of the sun made to appear at a distance like flames.\n\nI stopped in the neighbourhood of the castle, and sat down to\nadmire its noble structure, and to rest myself. Before I had\ntaken such a view of this magnificent building as it deserved, I\nsaw ten handsome young men coming along, as if they had been\ntaking a walk; but what surprised me was, that they were all\nblind of the right eye. They were accompanied by an old man, who\nwas very tall, and of a venerable aspect.\n\nI could not suppress my astonishment at the sight of so many half\nblind men in company, and every one deprived of the same eye. As\nI was conjecturing by what adventure these men could come\ntogether, they approached, and seemed glad to see me. After the\nfirst salutations, they inquired what had brought me thither. I\ntold them my story would be somewhat tedious, but if they would\ntake the trouble to sit down, I would satisfy their curiosity.\nThey did so, and I related to them all that had happened to me\nsince I had left my kingdom, which filled them with astonishment.\n\nAfter I had concluded my account, the young gentlemen prayed me\nto accompany them into the castle. I accepted their offer, and we\npassed through a great many halls, ante-chambers, bed-chambers,\nand closets, very well furnished, and came at last into a\nspacious hall, where there were ten small blue sofas set round,\nseparate from one another, on which they sat by day and slept at\nnight. In the middle of this circle stood an eleventh sofa, not\nso high as the rest, but of the same colour, upon which the old\nman before-mentioned sat down, and the young gentlemen occupied\nthe other ten. But as each sofa could only contain one man, one\nof the young men said to me, \"Comrade, sit down upon that carpet\nin the middle of the room, and do not inquire into anything that\nconcerns us, nor the reason why we are all blind of the right\neye; be content with what you see, and let not your curiosity\nextend any farther.\"\n\nThe old man having sat a short time, arose, and went out; but he\nreturned in a minute or two, brought in supper, distributed to\neach man separately his proportion, and likewise brought me mine,\nwhich I ate apart, as the rest did; and when supper was almost\nended, he presented to each of us a cup of wine.\n\nThey thought my story so extraordinary, that they made me repeat\nit after supper, and it furnished conversation for a good part of\nthe night. One of the gentlemen observing that it was late, said\nto the old man, \"You do not bring us that with which we may\nacquit ourselves of our duty.\" At these words the old man arose,\nand went into a closet, and brought out thence upon his head ten\nbasins, one after another, all covered with blue stuff; he placed\none before every gentleman, together with a light.\n\nThey uncovered their basins, which contained ashes, coal-dust,\nand lamp-black; they mixed all together, and rubbed and bedaubed\ntheir faces with it in such a manner as to make themselves look\nvery frightful. After having thus blackened themselves, they wept\nand lamented, beating their heads and breasts, and crying\ncontinually, \"This is the fruit of our idleness and debauches.\"\n\nThey continued this strange employment nearly the whole of the\nnight, and when they left off, the old man brought them water,\nwith which they washed their faces and hands; they changed all\ntheir clothes, which were spoiled, and put on others; so that\nthey exhibited no appearance of what they had been doing.\n\nYou may judge how uneasy I felt all this time. I wished a\nthousand times to break the silence which had been imposed upon\nme, and ask questions; nor was it possible for me to sleep that\nnight.\n\nThe next day, soon after we had arisen, we went out to walk, and\nthen I said to them, \"Gentlemen, I declare to you, that I must\nrenounce the law which you prescribed to me last night, for I\ncannot observe it. You are men of sense, you have convinced me\nthat you do not want understanding; yet, I have seen you do such\nactions as none but madmen could be capable of. Whatever\nmisfortune befalls me, I cannot forbear asking, why you bedaubed\nyour faces with black? How it has happened that each of you has\nbut one eye? Some singular circumstance must certainly be the\ncause; therefore I conjure you to satisfy my curiosity.\" To these\npressing instances they answered only, that it was no business of\nmine to make such inquiries, and that I should do well to hold my\npeace.\n\nWe passed that day in conversation upon indifferent subjects; and\nwhen night was come and every man had supped, the old man brought\nin the blue basins, and the young gentlemen as before bedaubed\ntheir faces, wept and beat themselves, crying, \"This is the fruit\nof our idleness and debauches,\" and continued the same actions\nthe following night. At last, not being able to resist my\ncuriosity, I earnestly prayed them to satisfy me, or to shew me\nhow to return to my own kingdom; for it was impossible for me to\nkeep them company any longer, and to see every night such an odd\nexhibition, without being permitted to know the reason.\n\nOne of the gentlemen answered on behalf of the rest, \"Do not\nwonder at our conduit in regard to yourself, and that hitherto we\nhave not granted your request: it is out of kindness, to save you\nthe pain of being reduced to the same condition with ourselves.\nIf you have a mind to try our unfortunate destiny, you need but\nspeak, and we will give you the satisfaction you desire.\" I told\nthem I was resolved on it, let what would be the consequence.\n\"Once more,\" said the same gentleman, \"we advise you to restrain\nyour curiosity: it will cost you the loss of your right eye.\" \"No\nmatter,\" I replied; \"be assured that if such a misfortune befall\nme, I will not impute it to you, but to myself.\"\n\nHe farther represented to me, that when I had lost an eye I must\nnot hope to remain with them, if I were so disposed, because\ntheir number was complete, and no addition could be made to it. I\ntold them, that it would be a great satisfaction to me never to\npart from such agreeable gentlemen, but if there were a necessity\nfor it, I was ready to submit; and let it cost me what it would,\nI begged them to grant my request.\n\nThe ten gentlemen perceiving that I was so fixed in my\nresolution, took a sheep, killed it, and after they had taken off\nthe skin, presented me with a knife, telling me it would be\nuseful to me on an occasion which they would soon explain. \"We\nmust sew you in this skin,\" said they, \"and then leave you; upon\nwhich a bird of a monstrous size, called a roc, will appear in\nthe air, and taking you for a sheep, will pounce upon you, and\nsoar with you to the sky: but let not that alarm you; he will\ndescend with you again, and lay you on the top of a mountain.\nWhen you find yourself on the ground, cut the skin with your\nknife, and throw it off. As soon as the roc sees you, he will fly\naway for fear, and leave you at liberty. Do not stay, but walk on\ntill you come to a spacious castle, covered with plates of gold,\nlarge emeralds, and other precious stones: go up to the gate,\nwhich always stands open, and walk in. We have each of us been in\nthat castle; but will tell you nothing of what we saw, or what\nbefell us there; you will learn by your own experience. All that\nwe can inform you is, that it has cost each of us our right eye,\nand the penance which you have been witness to, is what we are\nobliged to observe in consequence of having been there. The\nhistory of each of us is so full of extraordinary adventures,\nthat a large volume would not contain them. But we cannot explain\nourselves farther.\"\n\nWhen the gentleman had thus spoken, I wrapt myself in the sheep's\nskin, held fast the knife which was given me; and after the young\ngentlemen had been at the trouble to sew the skin about me, they\nretired into the hall, and left me alone. The roc they spoke of\nsoon arrived; he pounced upon me, took me in his talons like a\nsheep, and carried me up the summit of the mountain.\n\nWhen I found myself on the ground, I cut the skin with the knife,\nand throwing it off, the roc at the sight of me flew sway. This\nroc is a white bird, of a monstrous size; his strength is such,\nthat he can lift up elephants from the plains, and carry them to\nthe tops of mountains, where he feeds upon them.\n\nBeing impatient to reach the castle, I lost no time; but made so\nmuch haste, that I got thither in half a day's journey, and I\nmust say that I found it surpassed the description they had given\nme of its magnificence.\n\nThe gate being open, I entered a square court, so large that\nthere were round it ninety-nine gates of wood of sanders and\naloes, and one of gold, without reckoning those of several superb\nstaircases, that led to apartments above, besides many more which\nI could not see. The hundred doors I spoke of opened into gardens\nor store-houses full of riches, or into apartments which\ncontained many things wonderful to be seen.\n\nI saw a door standing open just before me, through which I\nentered into a large hall. Here I found forty young ladies of\nsuch perfect beauty as imagination could not surpass: they were\nall most sumptuously appareled. As soon as they saw me they\narose, and without waiting my salutations, said to me, with\ndemonstrations of joy, \"Noble Sir, you are welcome.\" And one thus\naddressed me in the name of the rest, \"We have long been in\nexpectation of such a gentleman as you; your mien assures us,\nthat you are master of all the good qualities we can desire; and\nwe hope you will not find our company disagreeable or unworthy of\nyours.\"\n\nThey obliged me, notwithstanding all the opposition I could make,\nto sit down on a seat that was higher than their own; and when I\nexpressed my uneasiness, \"That is your place,\" said they, \"you\nare at present our lord, master, and judge, and we are your\nslaves, ready to obey your commands.\"\n\nNothing, madam, so much astonished me, as the solicitude and\neagerness of those fair ladies to do me all possible service. One\nbrought hot water to wash my feet, a second poured sweet scented\nwater on my hands; others brought me all kinds of necessaries,\nand change of apparel; others again brought in a magnificent\ncollation; and the rest came with glasses in their hands to fill\nme delicious wines, all in good order, and in the most charming\nmanner possible. I ate and drank; after which the ladies placed\nthemselves about me, and desired an account of my travels. I gave\nthem a full relation of my adventures, which lasted till night\ncame on.\n\nWhen I had finished my narrative to the forty ladies, some of\nthem who sat nearest me staid to keep me company, whilst the\nrest, seeing it was dark, rose to fetch tapers. They brought a\nprodigious number, which by the wonderful light they emitted\nexhibited the resemblance of day, and they disposed them with so\nmuch taste as to produce the most beautiful effect possible.\n\nOther ladies covered a table with dry fruits, sweetmeats, and\neverything proper to relish the liquor; a side-board was set out\nwith several sorts of wine and other liquors. Some of the ladies\nbrought in musical instruments, and when everything was ready,\nthey invited me to sit down to supper. The ladies sat down with\nme, and we continued a long while at our repast. They that were\nto play upon the instruments and sing arose, and formed a most\ncharming concert. The others began a kind of ball, and danced two\nand two, couple after couple, with admirable grace.\n\nIt was past midnight ere these amusements ended. At length one of\nthe ladies said to me, \"You are doubtless wearied by the journey\nyou have taken to-day; it is time for you to retire to rest; your\nlodging is prepared: but before you depart choose which of us you\nlike best to be your bedfellow.\" I answered, \"That I knew not how\nto make my own choice, as they were all equally beautiful, witty,\nand worthy of my respects and service, and that I would not be\nguilty of so much incivility as to prefer one before another.\"\n\nThe lady who had spoken to me before answered, \"We are very well\nsatisfied of your civility, and find it is your fear to create\njealousy among us that occasions your diffidence; but let not\nthis hinder you. We assure you, that the good fortune of her whom\nyou choose shall cause no feeling of the kind; for we are agreed\namong ourselves, that every one of us shall in her turn have the\nsame honour; and when forty days are past, to begin again;\ntherefore make your selection, and lose no time to take the\nrepose you need.\" I was obliged to yield to their entreaties, and\noffered my hand to the lady who spoke, and who, in return, gave\nme hers. We were conducted to a sumptuous apartment, where they\nleft us; and then every one retired to her own chamber.\n\nI was scarcely dressed next morning, when the other thirty-nine\nladies came into my chamber, all in different dresses from those\nthey had worn the day before: they bade me good-morrow, and\ninquired after my health. After which they conveyed me to a bath,\nwhere they washed me themselves, and whether I would or no,\nserved me with everything I needed; and when I came out of the\nbath, they made me put on another suit much richer than the\nformer.\n\nWe passed the whole day almost constantly at table; and when it\nwas bed-time, they prayed me again to make choice of one of them\nfor my companion In short, madam, not to weary you with\nrepetitions, I must tell you that I continued a whole year among\nthose forty ladies, and received them into my bed one after\nanother: and during all the time of this voluptuous life, we met\nnot with the least kind of trouble. When the year was expired, I\nwas greatly surprised that these forty ladies, instead of\nappearing with their usual cheerfulness to ask me how I did,\nentered my chamber one morning all in tears. They embraced me\nwith great tenderness one after another, saying, \"Adieu, dear\nprince, adieu! for we must leave you.\" Their tears affected. I\nprayed them to tell me the reason of their grief, and of the\nseparation they spoke of. \"Fair ladies, let me know,\" said I, \"if\nit be in my power to comfort you, or if my assistance can be any\nway useful to you.\" Instead of returning a direct answer,\n\"Would,\" said they, \"we had never seen or known you! Several\ngentlemen have honoured us with their company before you; but\nnever one of them had that comeliness, that sweetness, that\npleasantness of humour, and that merit which you possess; we know\nnot how to live without you.\" After they had spoken these words,\nthey began to weep bitterly. \"My dear ladies,\" said I, \"have the\nkindness not to keep me any longer in suspense: tell me the cause\nof your sorrow.\" \"Alas!\" said they, \"what but the necessity of\nparting from you could thus afflict us? Perhaps we shall never\nsee you more; but if it be your wish we should, and if you\npossess sufficient self-command for the purpose, it is not\nimpossible but that we may again enjoy the pleasure of your\ncompany.\" \"Ladies,\" I replied, \"I understand not what you mean;\npray explain yourselves more clearly.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said one of them, \"to satisfy you, we must acquaint you\nthat we are all princesses, daughters of kings. We live here\ntogether in the manner you have seen; but at the end of every\nyear we are obliged to be absent forty days upon indispensable\nduties, which we are not permitted to reveal: and afterwards we\nreturn again to this castle. Yesterday was the last of the year;\nto day we must leave you, and this circumstance is the cause of\nour grief. Before we depart we will leave you the keys of\neverything, especially those of the hundred doors, where you will\nfind enough to satisfy your curiosity, and to relieve your\nsolitude during our absence. But for your benefit, and our own\npersonal interests, we recommend you to forbear opening the\ngolden door; for if you do we shall never see you again; and the\napprehension of this augments our grief. We hope, nevertheless,\nthat you will attend to our advice; your own peace, and the\nhappiness of your life, depends upon your compliance; therefore\ntake heed. If you suffer yourself to be swayed by a foolish\ncuriosity, you will do yourself a considerable injury. We conjure\nyou to avoid the indiscretion, and to give us the satisfaction\nfinding you here again at the end of forty days. We would\nwillingly take the key of the golden door with us; but that it\nwould be an affront to a prince like you to question your\ndiscretion and firmness.\"\n\nThis speech of the fair princesses grieved me extremely. I\nomitted not to declare how much their absence would afflict me. I\nthanked then for their good advice, assuring them that I would\nfollow it, and expressed my willingness to perform what was much\nmore difficult, to secure the happiness of passing the rest of my\ndays with ladies of such beauty and accomplishments. We separated\nwith much tenderness, and after I had embraced them all, they\ndeparted, and I remained alone in the castle.\n\nThe agreeableness of their company, their hospitality, their\nmusical entertainments, and other amusements, had so much\nabsorbed my attention during the whole year, that I neither had\ntime nor desire to see the wonders contained in this enchanted\npalace. I did not even notice a thousand curious objects that\nevery day offered themselves to my view, so much was I charmed by\nthe beauty of those ladies, and the pleasure they seemed to take\nin promoting my gratification. Their departure sensibly afflicted\nme; and though their absence was to be only forty days, it seemed\nto me an age to live without them.\n\nI determined not to forget the important advice they had given\nme, not to open the golden door; but as I was permitted to\nsatisfy my curiosity in everything else, I took the first of the\nkeys of the other doors, which were hung in regular order.\n\nI opened the first door, and entered an orchard, which I believe\nthe universe could not equal. I could not imagine any thing to\nsurpass it, except that which our religion promises us after\ndeath. The symmetry, the neatness, the admirable order of the\ntrees, the abundance and diversity of unknown fruits, their\nfreshness and beauty, delighted my senses.\n\nNor must I omit to inform you, that this delicious orchard was\nwatered in a very particular manner. There were channels so\nartificially and proportionately dug, that they carried water in\nconsiderable quantities to the roots of such trees as required\nmuch moisture. Others conveyed it in smaller quantities to those\nwhose fruits were already formed: some carried still less to\nthose whose fruits were swelling, and others carried only so much\nas was just requisite to water those which had their fruits come\nto perfection, and only wanted to be ripened. They far exceeded\nin size the ordinary fruits of our gardens. Lastly, those\nchannels that watered the trees whose fruit was ripe had no more\nmoisture than just what would preserve them from withering.\n\nI should never have tired in examining and admiring so delightful\na place; nor have left it, had I not conceived a still higher\nidea of the other things which I had not seen. I went out at last\nwith my mind filled with the wonders I had viewed: I shut the\ndoor, and opened the next.\n\nInstead of an orchard, I found here a flower garden, which was no\nless extraordinary in its kind. It contained a spacious plot, not\nwatered so profusely as the former, but with greater niceness,\nfurnishing no more water than just what each flower required. The\nroses, jessamines, violets, daffodils, hyacinths, anemonies,\ntulips, pinks, lilies, and an infinite number of flowers, which\ndo not grow in other places but at certain times, were there\nflourishing all at once, and nothing could be more delicious than\nthe fragrant smell which they emitted.\n\nI opened the third door, and found a large aviary, paved with\nmarble of several fine and uncommon colours. The trellis work was\nmade of sandal wood and wood of aloes. It contained a vast number\nof nightingales, gold-finches, canary birds, larks, and other\nrare singing-birds, which I had never heard of; and the vessels\nthat held their seed and water were of the most precious jasper\nor agate.\n\nBesides, this aviary was so exceedingly neat, that, considering\nits extent, I judged there must be not less than a hundred\npersons to keep it clean; but all this while not one appeared,\neither here or in the gardens I had before examined; and yet I\ncould not perceive a weed, or any thing superfluous or offensive\nto sight. The sun went down, and I retired, charmed with the\nchirping notes of the multitude of birds, who then began to perch\nupon such places as suited them for repose during the night. I\nwent to my chamber, resolving on the following days to open all\nthe rest of the doors, excepting that of gold.\n\nThe next day I opened the fourth door. If what I had seen before\nwas capable of exciting my surprise, what I now beheld\ntransported me into perfect ecstacy. I entered a large court\nsurrounded with buildings of an admirable structure, the\ndescription of which I will omit, to avoid prolixity.\n\nThis building had forty doors, all open, and through each of them\nwas an entrance into a treasury: several of these treasuries\ncontained as much wealth as the largest kingdoms. The first was\nstored with heaps of pearls: and, what is almost incredible, the\nnumber of those stones which are most precious, and as large as\npigeons' eggs, exceeded the number of those of the ordinary size.\nIn the second treasury, there were diamonds, carbuncles, and\nrubies; in the third, emeralds; in the fourth, ingots of gold; in\nthe fifth, money; in the sixth, ingots of silver; and in the two\nfollowing, money. The rest contained amethysts, chrysolites,\ntopazes, opals, turquoises, and hyacinths, with all the other\nstones known to us, without mentioning agate, jasper, cornelian,\nand coral, of which there was a store house filled, not only with\nbranches, but whole trees.\n\nFilled with astonishment and admiration at the view of all these\nriches, I exclaimed, \"If all the treasures of the kings of the\nuniverse were gathered together in one place, they could not\nequal the value of these. How fortunate am I to possess all this\nwealth with so many admirable princesses!\"\n\nI will not tire you, madam, with a detail of all the other\nobjects of curiosity and value which I discovered on the\nfollowing day. I shall only say, that thirty-nine days afforded\nme but just as much time as was necessary to open ninety-nine\ndoors, and to admire all that presented itself to my view, so\nthat there was only the hundredth door left, which I was\nforbidden to open.\n\nThe fortieth day after the departure of those charming princesses\narrived, and had I but retained so much self-command as I ought\nto have had, I should have been this day the happiest of all\nmankind, whereas now I am the most unfortunate. They were to\nreturn the next day, and the pleasure of seeing them again ought\nto have restrained my curiosity: but through my weakness, which I\nshall ever repent, I yielded to the temptations of the evil\nspirit, who allowed me no rest till I had involved myself in the\nmisfortunes I have since suffered.\n\nI opened that fatal door! But before I had moved my foot to\nenter, a smell pleasant enough, but too powerful for my senses,\nmade me faint away. However, I soon recovered: but instead of\ntaking warning from this incident to close the door, and restrain\nmy curiosity, after waiting some time for the external air to\ncorrect the effluvia of the place, I entered, and felt myself no\nlonger incommoded. I found myself in a spacious vaulted\napartment, the pavement of which was strewed with saffron. It was\nilluminated by several large tapers which emitted the perfume of\naloes and ambergris, and were placed in candlesticks of solid\ngold. This light was augmented by gold and silver lamps, burning\nperfumed oils of various kinds.\n\nAmong the many objects that attracted my attention was a black\nhorse, of the most perfect symmetry and beauty that ever was\nbeheld. I approached in order the better to observe him, and\nfound he had on a saddle and bridle of massive gold, curiously\nwrought. One part of his manger was filled with clean barley and\nsesame, and the other with rose-water. I laid hold of his bridle,\nand led him out to view him by daylight. I mounted, and\nendeavoured to make him move: but finding he did not stir, I\nstruck him with a switch I had taken up in his magnificent\nstable. He had no sooner felt the blow, than he began to neigh in\na most horrible manner, and extending his wings, which I had not\nbefore perceived, flew up with me into the air. My thoughts were\nfully in keeping my seat; and considering the fear that had\nseized me, I sat well. At length he directed his course towards\nthe earth, and lighted upon the terrace of a castle, and, without\ngiving me time to dismount, shook me out of the saddle with such\nforce, as to throw me behind him, and with the end of his tail he\nstruck out my eye.\n\nThus it was I became blind of one eye. I then recollected the\npredictions of the ten young gentlemen. The horse again took\nwing, and soon disappeared. I got up much vexed at the misfortune\nI had brought upon myself. I walked upon the terrace, covering my\neye with one of my hands, for it pained me exceedingly, and then\ndescended, and entered into a hall. I soon discovered by the ten\nsofas in a circle, and the eleventh in the middle, lower than the\nrest, that I was in the castle whence I had been carried by the\nroc.\n\nThe ten young gentlemen were not in the hall when I entered; but\ncame in soon after, attended by the old man. They seemed not at\nall surprised to see me, nor at the loss of my eye; but said, \"We\nare sorry that we cannot congratulate you on your return, as we\ncould wish; but we are not the cause of your misfortune.\" \"I\nshould do you wrong,\" I replied, \"to lay it to your charge; I\nhave only myself to accuse.\" \"If,\" said they, \"it be a subject of\nconsolation to the afflicted to know that others share their\nsufferings, you have in us this alleviation of your misfortune.\nAll that has happened to you we have also endured; we each of us\ntasted the same pleasures during a year; and we had still\ncontinued to enjoy them, had we not opened the golden door, when\nthe princesses were absent. You have been no wiser than we, and\nhave incurred the same punishment. We would gladly receive you\ninto our company, to join with us in the penance to which we are\nbound, and the duration of which we know not. But we have already\nstated to you the reasons that render this impossible: depart,\ntherefore, and proceed to the court of Bagdad, where you will\nmeet with the person who is to decide your destiny.\" After they\nhad explained to me the road I was to travel, I departed.\n\nOn the road I caused my beard and eye-brows to be shaven, and\nassumed a calender's habit. I have had a long journey, but at\nlast I arrived this evening, and met these my brother calenders\nat the gate, being strangers as well as myself. We were mutually\nsurprised at one another, to see that we were all blind of the\nsame eye; but we had not leisure to converse long on the subject\nof our misfortunes. We have only had time enough to bring us\nhither, to implore those favours which you have been generously\npleased to grant us.\n\nThe third calender having finished this relation of his\nadventures, Zobeide addressed him and his fellow calenders thus:\n\"Go wherever you think proper, you are at liberty.\" But one of\nthem answered, \"Madam, we beg you to pardon our curiosity, and\npermit us to hear the stories of those gentlemen who have not yet\nspoken.\" Then the lady turned to the caliph, the vizier Jaaffier,\nand Mesrour, and said to them, \"It is now your turn to relate\nyour adventures, therefore speak.\"\n\nThe grand vizier who had all along been the spokesman, answered\nZobeide: \"Madam, in order to obey you, we need only repeat what\nwe have already said. We are merchants of Moussol come to Bagdad\nto sell our merchandize, which lies in the khan where we lodge.\nWe dined today with several other persons of our condition, at a\nmerchant's house of this city; who, after he had treated us with\nchoice dainties and excellent wines, sent for men and women\ndancers, and musicians. The great noise we made brought in the\nwatch, who arrested some of the company, and we had the good\nfortune to escape: but it being already late, and the door of our\nkhan shut up, we knew not whither to retire. We chanced as we\npassed along this street to hear mirth at your house, which made\nus determine to knock at your gate. This is all the account that\nwe can give you, in obedience to your commands.\"\n\nZobeide having heard this statement, seemed to hesitate what to\nsay, which the calenders perceiving, prayed her to grant the same\nfavour to the three Moussol merchants as she had done to them.\n\"Well then,\" said she, \"you shall all be equally obliged to me; I\npardon you all, provided you immediately depart.\"\n\nZobeide having given this command in a tone that signified she\nwould be obeyed, the caliph, the vizier Mesrour, the three\ncalenders, and the porter departed, without saying one word: for\nthe presence of the seven slaves with their weapons awed them\ninto silence. As soon as they had quitted the house, and the gate\nwas closed after them, the caliph said to the calenders, without\nmaking himself known, \"You gentlemen, who are newly come to town,\nwhich way do you design to go, since it is not yet day?\" \"It is\nthis,\" they replied, \"that perplexes us.\" \"Follow us,\" resumed\nthe caliph, \"and we will convey you out of danger.\" He then\nwhispered to the vizier, \"Take them along with you, and tomorrow\nmorning bring them to me; I will cause their history to be put in\nwriting, for it deserves a place in the annals of my reign.\"\n\nThe vizier Jaaffier took the three calenders along with him; the\nporter went to his quarters, and the caliph and Mesrour returned\nto the palace. The caliph went to bed, but could not sleep, being\nperplexed by the extraordinary things he had seen and heard. But\nabove all, he was most concerned to know the history of Zobeide;\nwhat reason she could have to be so severe to the two black\nbitches, and why Amene had her bosom so scarred. Day began to\nappear whilst he was thinking upon these things; he arose and\nwent to his council chamber, and sat upon his throne.\n\nThe grand vizier entered soon after, and paid his respects as\nusual. \"Vizier,\" said the caliph, \"the affairs that we have to\nconsider at present are not very pressing; that of the three\nladies and the two black bitches is the most urgent: my mind\ncannot rest till I am thoroughly satisfied, in all those matters\nthat have so much surprised me. Go, bring those ladies and the\ncalenders at the same time; make haste, and remember that I\nimpatiently expect your return.\"\n\nThe vizier who knew his master's quick and fiery temper, hastened\nto obey, and went to the ladies, to whom he communicated, in a\ncivil way, the orders with which he was charged, to bring them\nbefore the caliph, without taking any notice of what had passed\nthe night before at their house.\n\nThe ladies put on their veils, and went with the vizier As he\npassed his own house, he took along with him the three calenders,\nwho in the interval had learnt that they had seen and spoken with\nthe caliph, without knowing him. The vizier conducted them to the\npalace with so much expedition, that the caliph was much pleased.\nThis prince, that he might observe proper decorum before the\nofficers of his court who were then present, ordered that the\nladies should be placed behind the hangings of the door which led\nto his own chamber, and placed the three calenders near his\nperson, who, by their respectful behaviour, sufficiently evinced\nthat they were not ignorant before whom they had the honour to\nappear.\n\nWhen the ladies were thus disposed of, the caliph turned towards\nthem, and said, \"When I acquaint you that I was last night in\nyour house, disguised in a merchant's habit, you may probably be\nalarmed, lest you may have given me offence; you may perhaps\nbelieve that I have sent for you for no other purpose than to\nshew some marks of my resentment; but be not afraid; you may rest\nassured that I have forgotten all that has past, and am well\nsatisfied with your conduct. I wish that all the ladies of Bagdad\nhad as much discretion as you evinced before me. I shall always\nremember the moderation with which you acted, after the rudeness\nof which we were guilty. I was then a merchant of Moussol, but am\nat present Haroon al Rusheed, the fifth caliph of the glorious\nhouse of Abbas, and hold the place of our great prophet. I have\nonly sent for you to know who you are, and to ask for what reason\none of you, after severely whipping the two black bitches, wept\nwith them? And I am no less curious to know, why another of you\nhas her bosom so full of scars.\"\n\nThough the caliph pronounced these words very distinctly, the\nthree ladies heard him well enough, yet the vizier out of\nceremony, repeated them.\n\nZobeide, after the caliph by his address had encouraged her,\nbegan thus:\n\n\n\n\n                     The Story of Zobeide.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, the relation which I am about to give\nyour majesty is singularly extraordinary. The two black bitches\nand myself are sisters by the same father and mother; and I shall\nacquaint you by what strange accident they came to be\nmetamorphosed. The two ladies who live with me, and are now here,\nare also my sisters by the father's side, but by another mother:\nshe that has the scars upon her breast is named Amene; the name\nof the other is Safie, and my own Zobeide.\n\nAfter our father's death, the property that he left was equally\ndivided among us, and as soon as these two sisters received their\nportions, they left me to live with their mother. My other two\nsisters and myself stayed with our mother, who was then alive,\nand who when she afterwards died left each of us a thousand\nsequins. As soon as we had received our portions, the two eldest\n(for I am the youngest) married, and left me alone. Some time\nafter, my eldest sister's husband sold all that he had, and with\nthat money and my sister's portion they went both into Africa,\nwhere her husband, by riotous living and debauchery' spent all;\nand finding himself reduced to poverty, found a pretext for\ndivorcing my sister, and put her away.\n\nShe returned to this city, and having suffered incredible\nhardships by the way, came to me in so lamentable a condition\nthat it would have moved the hardest heart to compassion to\nbehold her. I received her with every possible tenderness, and\ninquiring into the cause of her distress, she told me with tears\nhow inhumanly her husband had behaved towards her. Her\nmisfortunes affected me: and I mingled my tears with hers. I took\nher to a bath, clothed her with my own apparel, and thus\naddressed her: \"Sister, you are the elder, and I esteem you as my\nmother: during your absence, God has blest the portion that fell\nto my share, and the employment I follow of breeding silk-worms.\nAssure yourself there is nothing I have but is at your service,\nand as much at your disposal as my own.\"\n\nWe lived very comfortably together for some months. As we were\none day conversing about our third sister, and wondering we\nreceived no intelligence of her, she came in as bad a condition\nas the eldest: her husband had treated her after the same manner;\nand I received her likewise with the same affection as I had done\nthe former.\n\nSome time after, my two sisters, on presence that they would not\nbe chargeable to me, told me they intended to marry again. I\nobserved, that if putting me to expense was the only reason, they\nmight lay those thoughts aside, and be welcome to remain: for\nwhat I had would be sufficient to maintain us all three, in a\nmanner answerable to our condition. \"But,\" I added, \"I rather\nbelieve you wish to marry again; I shall feel much surprised if\nsuch be the case. After the experience you have had of the little\nsatisfaction there is in wedlock, is it possible you dare venture\na second time? You know how rare it is to meet with a husband\nperfectly virtuous and deserving. Believe what I say, and let us\nlive together as comfortably as we can.\" All my persuasion was in\nvain; they were resolved to marry, and soon accomplished their\nwishes. But after some months were past, they returned again, and\nbegged my pardon a thousand times for not following my advice.\n\"You are our youngest sister,\" said they, \"but abundantly more\nwise than we; if you will vouchsafe to receive us once more into\nyour house, and account us your slaves, we shall never commit a\nsimilar fault again.\" My answer was, \"Dear sisters, I have not\naltered my mind with respect to you since we last parted: come\nagain, and take part of what I have.\" Upon this I embraced them,\nand we lived together as before.\n\nWe continued thus a whole year in perfect love and harmony.\nSeeing that God had increased my small stock, I projected a\nvoyage, to embark some of it in a commercial speculation. To this\nend,  I went with my two sisters to Bussorah, where I bought a\nship ready fitted for sea, and laded her with such merchandise as\nI had carried with me from Bagdad. We set sail with a fair wind,\nand soon cleared the Persian gulf; when we had reached the open\nsea, we steered our course to the Indies; and the twentieth day\nsaw land. It was a very high mountain, at the bottom of which we\nperceived a great town: having a fresh gale, we soon reached the\nharbour, and cast anchor.\n\nI had not patience to wait till my sisters were dressed to go\nalong with me, but went ashore alone in the boat. Making directly\nto the gate of the town, I saw there a great number of men upon\nguard, some sitting, and others standing with sticks in their\nhands; and they had all such dreadful countenances that I was\ngreatly alarmed; but perceiving they remained stationary, and did\nnot so much as move their eyes, I took courage, and went nearer,\nwhen I found they were all turned into stones. I entered the town\nand passed through several streets, where at different intervals\nstood men in various attitudes, but all motionless and petrified.\nIn the quarter inhabited by the merchants I found most of the\nshops shut, and in such as were open I likewise found the people\npetrified.\n\nHaving reached a vast square, in the heart of the city, I\nperceived a large folding gate, covered with plates of gold,\nwhich stood open; a curtain of silk stuff seemed to be drawn\nbefore it: a lamp hung over the entrance. After I had surveyed\nthe building, I made no doubt but it was the palace of the prince\nwho reigned over that country: and being much astonished that I\nhad not met with one living creature, I approached in hopes to\nfind some. I lifted up the curtain, and was surprised at\nbeholding no one but the guards in the vestibule all petrified;\nsome standing, some sitting, and some lying.\n\nI came to a large court, where I saw before me a stately\nbuilding, the windows of which were inclosed with gates of messy\ngold: I concluded it to be the queen's apartments. I entered; and\nin a large hall I found several black eunuchs turned into stone.\nI went from thence into a room richly furnished, where I\nperceived a lady in the same situation. I knew it to be the\nqueen, by the crown of gold on her head, and a necklace of pearls\nabout her neck, each of them as large as a nut; I approached her\nto have a nearer view of it, and never beheld a finer objets.\n\nI stood some time admiring the riches and magnificence of the\nroom; but above all, the carpet, the cushions, and the sofas,\nwhich were all ornamented with Indian stuff of gold, and\nrepresentations of men and beasts in silver, admirably executed.\n\nI quitted the chamber where the petrified queen was, and passed\nthrough several other apartments and closets richly furnished,\nand at last came into a large room, where there was a throne of\nmassive gold, raised several steps above the floor, and enriched\nwith large enchased emeralds, and upon the throne there was a bed\nof rich stuff embroidered with pearls. What surprised me most was\na sparkling light which came from above the bed. Being curious to\nknow whence it proceeded, I ascended the steps, and lifting up my\nhead, saw a diamond as large as the egg of an ostrich, lying upon\na low stool; it was so pure, that I could not find the least\nblemish in it, and it sparkled with so much brilliancy, that when\nI saw it by day-light I could not endure its lustre.\n\nAt the head of the bed there stood on each side a lighted\nflambeau, but for what use I could not comprehend; however, it\nmade me imagine that there was some living creature in this\nplace; for I could not believe that the torches continued thus\nburning of themselves. Several other rarities detained my\ncuriosity in this room, which was inestimable in value, were it\nonly for the diamond I mentioned.\n\nThe doors being all open, or but half shut, I surveyed some other\napartments, that were as beautiful as those I had already seen. I\nlooked into the offices and store-rooms, which were full of\nriches. In short, the wonders that everywhere appeared so wholly\nengrossed my attention, that I forgot my ship and my sisters, and\nthought of nothing but gratifying my curiosity. In the mean time\nnight came on, which reminded me that it was time to retire. I\nproposed to return the way I had entered, but I could not find\nit; I lost myself among the apartments; and perceiving I was come\nback again to the large room, where the throne, the couch, the\nlarge diamond, and the torches stood, I resolved to take my\nnight's lodging there, and to depart the next morning early, to\nget aboard my ship. I laid myself down upon a couch, not without\nsome dread to be alone in a desolate place; and this fear\nhindered my sleep.\n\nAbout midnight I heard a voice like that of a man reading the\nKoraun, after the same manner, and in the same tone as it is read\nin our mosques. Being extremely glad to hear it, I immediately\narose, and taking a torch in my hand, passed from one chamber to\nanother on that side from whence the sound proceeded. I came to\nthe closet-door, and stood still, not doubting that it came from\nthence. I set down my torch upon the ground, and looking through\na window, found it to be an oratory. It had, as we have in our\nmosques, a niche, to direct us whither we are to turn to say our\nprayers: there were also lamps hung up, and two candlesticks with\nlarge tapers of white wax burning.\n\nI saw a little carpet laid down like those we have to kneel upon\nwhen we say our prayers, and a comely young man sat on this\ncarpet reading with great devotion the Koraun, which lay before\nhim on a desk. At this sight I was transported with admiration. I\nwondered how it came to pass that he should be the only living\ncreature in a town where all the people were turned into stones,\nand I did not doubt but there was something in the circumstance\nvery extraordinary.\n\nThe door being only half shut, I opened it, went in, and standing\nupright before the niche, I repeated this prayer aloud: \"Praise\nbe to God, who has favoured us with a happy voyage, and may he be\ngraciously pleased to protect us in the same manner, until we\narrive again in our own country. Hear me, O Lord, and grant my\nrequest.\"\n\nThe young man turned his eyes towards me, and said, \"My good\nlady, pray let me know who you are, and what has brought you to\nthis desolate city? And, in return, I will you who I am, what has\nhappened to me, why the inhabitants of this city are reduced to\nthe state you see them in, and why I alone am safe in the midst\nof such a terrible disaster.\"\n\nI told him in a few words whence I had come, what had made me\nundertake the voyage, and how I safely arrived at the port after\ntwenty days' sailing; when I had done, I prayed him to perform\nhis promise, and told him how much I was struck by the frightful\ndesolation which I had seen in the city.\n\n\"Lady,\" said the young man, \"have patience for a moment.\" At\nthese words he shut the Koraun, put it into a rich case, and laid\nit in the niche. I took that opportunity to observe him, and\nperceiving in him so much good nature and beauty, I felt emotions\nI had never known before. He made me sit down by him, and before\nhe began his discourse, I could not forbear saying, with an air\nthat discovered the sentiments I felt, \"Amiable sir, dear object\nof my soul, I can scarcely have patience to wait for an account\nof all these wonderful objects that I have seen since I came into\nyour city; and my curiosity cannot be satisfied too soon:\ntherefore pray, sir, let me know by what miracle you alone are\nleft alive among so many persons that have died in so strange a\nmanner.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the young man, \"by the prayer you just now\naddressed to him, you have given me to understand that you have a\nknowledge of the true God. I will acquaint you with the most\nremarkable effect of his greatness and power. You must know, that\nthis city was the metropolis of a mighty kingdom, over which the\nsultan my father reigned. That prince, his whole court, the\ninhabitants of the city, and all his other subjects, were magi,\nworshippers of fire, and of Nardoun, the ancient king of the\ngiants, who rebelled against God.\n\n\"But though I was born of an idolatrous father and mother, I had\nthe good fortune in my youth to have a governess who was a good\nMoosulmaun. 'Dear prince,' would she oftentimes say, 'there is\nbut one true God; take heed that you do not acknowledge and adore\nany other.' She taught me to read Arabic, and the book she gave\nme to study was the Koraun. As soon as I was capable of\nunderstanding it, she explained to me all the passages of this\nexcellent book, and infused piety into my mind, unknown to my\nfather or any other person. She happened to die, but not before\nshe had perfectly instructed me in all that was necessary to\nconvince me of the truth of the Moosulmaun religion. After her\ndeath I persisted with constancy in the belief of its divinity:\nand I abhor the false god Nardoun, and the adoration of fire.\n\n\"About three years and some months ago, a thundering voice was\nsuddenly sounded so distinctly, through the whole city, that\nnobody could miss hearing it. The words were these: 'Inhabitants,\nabandon the worship of Nardoun, and of fire, and worship the only\nGod who shews mercy.'\n\n\"This voice was heard three years successively, but no one was\nconverted. On the last day of that year, at four o'clock in the\nmorning, all the inhabitants were changed in an instant into\nstone, every one in the condition and posture they happened to be\nin. The sultan, my father, shared the same fate, for he was\nmetamorphosed into a black stone, as he is to be seen in this\npalace, and the queen, my mother, had the like destiny.\n\n\"I am the only person who did not suffer under that heavy\njudgment, and ever since I have continued to serve God with more\nfervency than before. I am persuaded, dear lady, that he has sent\nyou hither for my comfort, for which I render him infinite\nthanks; for I must own that this solitary life is extremely\nirksome.\"\n\nAll these expressions, and particularly the last, greatly\nincreased my love for him. \"Prince,\" said I, \"there is no doubt\nbut Providence has brought me into your port, to afford you an\nopportunity of withdrawing from this dismal place. The ship I\ncame in may serve in some measure to convince you that I am in\nsome esteem at Bagdad, where I have left considerable property;\nand I dare engage to promise you sanctuary there, until the\nmighty commander of the faithful, vicegerent to our prophet whom\nyou acknowledge, shew you the honour that is due to your merit.\nThis renowned prince lives at Bagdad, and as soon as he is\ninformed of your arrival in his capital, you will find that it is\nnot in vain to implore his assistance. It is impossible you can\nstay any longer in a city where all the objects you behold must\nrenew your grief: my vessel is at your service, where you may\nabsolutely command as you shall think fit.\" He accepted the\noffer, and we conversed the remainder of the night concerning our\nembarkation.\n\nAs soon as it was day we left the palace, and went aboard my\nship, where we found my sisters, the captain, and the slaves, all\nmuch troubled at my absence. After I had presented my sisters to\nthe prince, I told them what had hindered my return the day\nbefore, how I had met with the young prince, his story, and the\ncause of the desolation of so fine a city.\n\nThe seamen were taken up several days in unlading the merchandize\nI brought with me, and embarking in its stead all the precious\nthings in the palace, such as jewels, gold, and money. We left\nthe furniture and goods, which consisted of an infinite quantity\nof plate, &c., because our vessel could not carry it, for it\nwould have required several vessels more to convey to Bagdad all\nthe riches that we might have chosen to take with us.\n\nAfter we had laden the vessel with what we thought most\ndesirable, we took such provisions and water aboard as were\nnecessary for our voyage (for we had still a great deal of those\nprovisions left that we had taken in at Bussorah); at last we set\nsail with a wind as favourable as we could wish.\n\nThe young prince, my sisters and myself, enjoyed ourselves for\nsome time very agreeably. But alas! this good understanding did\nnot last long, for my sisters grew jealous of the friendship\nbetween the prince and myself, and maliciously asked me one day,\nwhat we should do with him when we came to Bagdad? I perceived\nimmediately that they put this question on purpose to discover my\ninclinations; therefore, resolving to put it off with a jest, I\nanswered, \"I will take him for my husband;\" and upon that,\nturning myself to the prince, said, \"Sir, I humbly beg of you to\ngive your consent, for as soon as we come to Bagdad I desire to\noffer you my person to be your slave, to do you all the service\nthat is in my power, and to resign myself wholly to your\ncommands.\"\n\nThe prince replied, \"I know not, madam, whether you be in jest or\nno; but for my part, I seriously declare before these ladies,\nyour sisters, that from this moment I heartily accept your offer,\nnot with any intention to have you as a slave, but as my lady and\nmistress: nor will I pretend to have any power over your\nactions.\" At these words my sisters changed colour, and I could\nperceive afterwards that they did not love me as before.\n\nWe entered the Persian gulf, and had come within a short distance\nof Bussorah (where I hoped, considering the fair wind, we might\nhave arrived the day following), when in the night, while I was\nasleep, my sisters watched their opportunity, and threw me\noverboard. They did the same to the prince, who was drowned. I\nfloated some minutes on the water, and by good fortune, or rather\nmiracle, I felt ground. I went towards a dark spot, that, by what\nI could discern, seemed to be land, and proved to be a flat on\nthe coast, which, when day appeared, I found to be a desert\nisland, lying about twenty miles from Bussorah. I soon dried my\nclothes in the sun, and as I walked along I found several kinds\nof fruit, and likewise fresh water, which gave me some hopes of\npreserving my life.\n\nI had just laid myself down to rest in a shade, when I perceived\na very large winged serpent coming towards me, with an irregular\nwaving movement, and hanging out its tongue, which induced me to\nconclude it had received some injury. I instantly arose, and\nperceived that it was pursued by a larger serpent which had hold\nof its tail, and was endeavouring to devour it. This perilous\nsituation of the first serpent excited my pity, and instead of\nretreating I assumed courage to take up a stone that lay near me,\nand to throw it with all my strength at the other, which I hit\nupon the head and killed. The other, finding itself at liberty,\ntook wing and flew away. I looked after it for some time till it\ndisappeared. I then sought another shady spot for repose, and\nfell asleep.\n\nJudge what was my surprise when I awoke, to see standing by me a\nblack woman of lively and agreeable features, who held in her\nhand two bitches of the same colour, fastened together. I sat up,\nand asked her who she was? \"I am,\" said she, \"the serpent whom\nyou lately delivered from my mortal enemy. I did not know in what\nway I could better requite the important services you have\nrendered me than by what I have just done. The treachery of your\nsisters was well known to me, and to avenge your wrongs, as soon\nas I was liberated by your generous assistance, I called together\nseveral of my companions, fairies like myself, conveyed into your\nstorehouses at Bagdad all the lading of your vessel, and\nafterwards sunk it.\n\n\"These two black bitches are your sisters, whom I have\ntransformed into this shape. But this punishment will not\nsuffice; and my will is that you treat them hereafter in the way\nI shall direst.\"\n\nAs soon as she had thus spoken the fairy took me under one of her\narms, and the two bitches under the other, and conveyed us to my\nhouse in Bagdad; where I found in my storehouses all the riches\nwith which my vessel had been laden. Before she left me, she\ndelivered to me the two bitches, and said, \"If you would not be\nchanged into a similar form, I command you, in the name of him\nthat governs the sea, to give each of your sisters every night\none hundred lashes with a rod, as the punishment of the crime\nthey have committed against yourself, and the young prince, whom\nthey have drowned.\" I was forced to promise obedience. Since that\ntime I have whipped them every night, though with regret, whereof\nyour majesty has been a witness. My tears testify with how much\nsorrow and reluctance I perform this painful duty; and in this\nyour majesty may see I am more to be pitied than blamed. If there\nbe any thing else relating to myself that you desire to know, my\nsister Amene will give you full information in the relation of\nher story.\n\nAfter the caliph had heard Zobeide with much astonishment, he\ndesired his grand vizier to request Amene to acquaint him\nwherefore her breast was disfigured with so many scars.\n\nAmene addressed herself to the caliph, and began her story after\nthis manner:\n\n\n\n\n                      The Story of Amene.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, to avoid repeating what your majesty\nhas already heard in my sister's story, I shall only add, that\nafter my mother had taken a house for herself to live in, during\nher widowhood, she gave me in marriage, with the portion my\nfather left me, to a gentleman who had one of the best estates in\nthe city.\n\nI had scarcely been a year married when I became a widow, and was\nleft in possession of all my husband's property, which amounted\nto 90,000 sequins. The interest of this money was sufficient to\nmaintain me very honourably. When the first six months of my\nmourning was over, I caused to be made for me ten different\ndresses, of such magnificence that each came to a thousand\nsequins; and at the end of the year I began to wear them.\n\nOne day, while I was alone engaged in my domestic affairs, I was\ntold that a lady desired to speak to me. I gave orders that she\nshould be admitted. She was a person advanced in years; she\nsaluted me by kissing the ground, and said to me kneeling, \"Dear\nlady, excuse the freedom I take to trouble you, the confidence I\nhave in your charity makes me thus bold. I must acquaint your\nladyship that I have an orphan daughter, who is to be married\nthis day. She and I are both strangers, and have no acquaintance\nin this town; which much perplexes me, for we wish the numerous\nfamily with whom we are going to ally ourselves to think we are\nnot altogether unknown and without credit: therefore, most\nbeautiful lady, if you would vouchsafe to honour the wedding with\nyour presence, we shall be infinitely obliged, because the ladies\nof our country, when informed that a lady of your rank has strewn\nus this respect, will then know that we are not regarded here as\nunworthy and despised persons. But, alas! madam, if you refuse\nthis request, how great will be our mortification! we know not\nwhere else to apply.\"\n\nThis poor woman's address, which she spoke with tears, moved my\ncompassion. \"Good woman,\" said I, \"do not afflict yourself, I\nwill grant you the favour you desire; tell me whither I must go,\nand I will meet you as soon as I am dressed.\" The old woman was\nso transported with joy at my answer, that she kissed my feet\nbefore I had time to prevent her. \"My compassionate lady,\" said\nshe, rising, \"God will reward the kindness you have shewed to\nyour servants, and make your heart as joyful as you have made\ntheirs. You need not at present trouble yourself; it will be time\nenough for you to go when I call for you in the evening. So\nfarewell, madam, till I have the honour to see you again.\"\n\nAs soon as she was gone, I took the suit I liked best, with a\nnecklace of large pearls, bracelets, pendents for my ears, and\nrings set with the finest and most sparkling diamonds; for my\nmind presaged what would befall me.\n\nWhen the night closed in, the old woman called upon me, with a\ncountenance full of joy. She kissed my hands, and said, \"My dear\nlady, the relations of my son-in-law, who are the principal\nladies of the city, are now met together; you may come when you\nplease; I am ready to conduct you.\" We immediately set out; she\nwalked before me, and I was followed by a number of my women and\nslaves properly dressed for the occasion. We stopt in a wide\nstreet, newly swept and watered, at a spacious gate with a lamp,\nby the light of which I read this inscription in golden letters\nover the entrance: \"This is the everlasting abode of pleasure and\njoy.\" The old woman knocked, and the gate was opened immediately.\n\nI was conducted towards the lower end of the court, into a large\nhall, where I was received by a young lady of admirable beauty.\nShe drew near, and after having embraced me, made me sit down by\nher upon a sofa, on which was raised a throne of precious wood\nset with diamonds. \"Madam,\" said she, \"you are brought hither to\nassist at a wedding; but I hope it will be a different wedding\nfrom what you expected. I have a brother, one of the handsomest\nmen in the world: he is fallen so much in love with the fame of\nyour beauty, that his fate depends wholly upon you, and he will\nbe the unhappiest of men if you do not take pity on him. He knows\nyour quality, and I can assure you he is in no respect unworthy\nof your alliance. If my prayers, madam, can prevail, I shall join\nthem with his, and humbly beg you will not refuse the proposal of\nbeing his wife.\"\n\nAfter the death of my husband I had not thought of marrying\nagain. But I had no power to refuse the solicitation of so\ncharming a lady. As soon as I had given consent by my silence,\naccompanied with a blush, the young lady claps her hands, and\nimmediately a closet-door opened, out of which came a young man\nof a majestic air, and so graceful a behaviour, that I thought\nmyself happy to have made so great a conquest. He sat down by me,\nand I found from his conversation that his merits far exceeded\nthe eulogium of his sister.\n\nWhen she perceived that we were satisfied with one another, she\nclaps her hands a second time, and out came a Cauzee, who wrote\nour contract of marriage, signed it himself, and caused it to be\nattested by four witnesses he brought along with him. The only\ncondition that my new husband imposed upon me was, that I should\nnot be seen by nor speak to any other man but himself, and he\nvowed to me that, if I complied in this respect, I should have no\nreason to complain of him. Our marriage was concluded and\nfinished after this manner; so I became the principal actress in\na wedding to which I had only been invited as a guest.\n\nAbout a month after our marriage, having occasion for some\nstuffs, I asked my husband's permission to go out to buy them,\nwhich he granted; and I took with me the old woman of whom I\nspoke before, she being one of the family, and two of my own\nfemale slaves.\n\nWhen we came to the street where the merchants reside, the old\nwoman said, \"Dear mistress, since you want silk stuffs, I must\ntake you to a young merchant of my acquaintance, who has a great\nvariety; and that you may not fatigue yourself by running from\nshop to shop, I can assure you that you will find in his what no\nother can furnish.\" I was easily persuaded, and we entered a shop\nbelonging to a young merchant who was tolerably handsome. I sat\ndown, and bade the old woman desire him to shew me the finest\nsilk stuffs he had. The woman desired me to speak myself; but I\ntold her it was one of the articles of my marriage contract not\nto speak to any man but my husband, which I ought to keep.\n\nThe merchant shewed me several stuffs, of which one pleased me\nbetter than the rest; but I bade her ask the price. He answered\nthe old woman, \"I will not sell it for gold or money, but I will\nmake her a present of it, if she will give me leave to kiss her\ncheek.\" I ordered the old woman to tell him, that he was very\nrude to propose such a freedom. But instead of obeying me, she\nsaid, \"What the merchant desires of you is no such great matter;\nyou need not speak, but only present him your cheek.\" The stuff\npleased me so much, that I was foolish enough to take her advice.\nThe old woman and my slaves stood up, that nobody might see, and\nI put up my veil; but instead of kissing me, the merchant bit me\nso violently as to draw blood.\n\nThe pain and my surprise were so great, that I fell down in a\nswoon, and continued insensible so long, that the merchant had\ntime to escape. When I came to myself, I found my cheek covered\nwith blood: the old woman and my slaves took care to cover it\nwith my veil, that the people who came about us could not\nperceive it, but supposed I had only had a fainting fit.\n\nThe old woman who accompanied me being extremely troubled at this\naccident, endeavoured to comfort me. \"My dear mistress,\" said\nshe, \"I beg your pardon, for I am the cause of this misfortune,\nhaving brought you to this merchant, because he is my countryman:\nbut I never thought he would be guilty of such a villainous\naction. But do not grieve; let us hasten home, I will apply a\nremedy that shall in three days so perfectly cure you, that not\nthe least mark shall be visible.\" The fit had made me so weak,\nthat I was scarcely able to walk. But at last I got home, where I\nagain fainted, as I went into my chamber. Meanwhile, the old\nwoman applied her remedy; I came to myself, and went to bed.\n\nMy husband came to me at night, and seeing my head bound up,\nasked me the reason. I told him I had the head-ache, which I\nhoped would have satisfied him, but he took a candle, and saw my\ncheek was hurt: \"How comes this wound?\" said he. Though I did not\nconsider myself as guilty of any great offence, yet I could not\nthink of owning the truth. Besides, to make such an avowal to a\nhusband, I considered as somewhat indecorous; I therefore said,\n\"That as I was going, under his permission, to purchase some silk\nstuff, a porter, carrying a load of wood, came so near to me, in\na narrow street, that one of the sticks grazed my cheek; but had\nnot done me much hurt.\" This account put my husband into a\nviolent passion. \"This act,\" said he, \"shall not go unpunished. I\nwill to-morrow order the lieutenant of the police to seize all\nthose brutes of porters, and cause them to be hanged.\" Fearful of\noccasioning the death of so many innocent persons, I said, \"Sir,\nI should be sorry so great a piece of injustice should be\ncommitted. Pray refrain; for I should deem myself unpardonable,\nwere I to be the cause of so much mischief.\" \"Then tell me\nsincerely,\" said he, \"how came you by this wound.\" I answered,\n\"That it was occasioned by the inadvertency of a broom-seller\nupon an ass, who coming behind me, while he was looking another\nway, his ass came against me with so much violence, that I fell\ndown, and hurt my cheek upon some glass.\" \"If that is the case,\"\nsaid my husband, \"to-morrow morning, before sun-rise, the grand\nvizier Jaaffier shall be informed of this insolence, and cause\nall the broom-sellers to be put to death.\" \"For the love of God,\nSir,\" said I, \"let me beg of you to pardon them, for they are not\nguilty.\" \"How, madam,\" he demanded, \"what then am I to believe?\nSpeak, for I am resolved to know the truth from your own mouth.\"\n\"Sir,\" I replied, \"I was taken with a giddiness, and fell down,\nand that is the whole matter.\"\n\nAt these words my husband lost all patience. \"I have,\" said he,\n\"too long listened to your falsehoods.\" As he spoke he clapped\nhis hands, and in came three slaves: \"Pull her out of bed,\" said\nhe, \"and lay her in the middle of the floor.\" The slaves obeyed,\none holding me by the head, another by the feet; he commanded the\nthird to fetch a cimeter, and when he had brought it, \"Strike,\"\nsaid he, \"cut her in two, and then throw her into the Tygris.\nThis is the punishment I inflict on those to whom I have given my\nheart, when they falsify their promise.\" When he saw that the\nslave hesitated to obey him, \"Why do you not strike?\" said he.\n\"What do you wait for?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said the slave then, \"you are near the last moment of\nyour life, consider if you have any thing to dispose of before\nyou die.\" I begged permission to speak one word, which was\ngranted me. I lifted up my head, and casting an affectionate look\non my husband, said, \"Alas! to what a condition am I reduced!\nmust I then die in the prime of my youth!\" I could say no more,\nfor my tears and sighs choked my utterance. My husband was not at\nall moved, but, on the contrary, went on to reproach me; and it\nwould have been in vain to attempt a reply. I had recourse to\nintreaties and prayers; but he had no regard to them, and\ncommanded the slaves to proceed to execution. The old woman, who\nhad been his nurse, came in just at that moment, fell down upon\nher knees, and endeavoured to appease his wrath. \"My son,\" said\nshe, \"since I have been your nurse and brought you up, let me beg\nthe favour of you to grant me her life. Consider, that he who\nkills shall be killed, and that you will stain your reputation,\nand forfeit the esteem of mankind. What will the world say of\nsuch sanguinary violence?\" She spoke these words in such an\naffecting manner, accompanied with tears, that she prevailed upon\nhim at last to abandon his purpose.\n\n\"Well then,\" said he to his nurse, \"for your sake I will spare\nher life; but she shall bear about her person some marks to make\nher remember her offence.\" When he had thus spoken, one of the\nslaves, by his order, gave me upon my sides and breast so many\nblows, with a little cane, that he tore away both skin and flesh,\nwhich threw me into a swoon. In this state he caused the same\nslaves, the executioners of his fury, to carry me into a house,\nwhere the old woman took care of me. I kept my bed four months;\nat last I recovered: the scars which, contrary to my wish, you\nsaw yesterday, have remained ever since.\n\nAs soon as I was able to walk, and go abroad, I resolved to\nretire to the house which was left me by my first husband, but I\ncould not find the site whereon it had stood. My second husband,\nin the heat of his resentment, was not satisfied with the\ndemolition of that, but caused every other house in the same\nstreet to be razed to the ground. I believe such an act of\nviolence was never heard of before; but against whom could I\ncomplain? The perpetrator had taken good care to conceal himself.\nBut suppose I had discovered him, is it not easily seen that his\nconduct must have proceeded from absolute power? How then could I\ndare to complain?\n\nBeing left thus destitute and helpless, I had recourse to my dear\nsister Zobeide, whose adventures your majesty has just heard. To\nher I made known my misfortune; she received me with her\naccustomed goodness, and advised me to bear my ambition patience.\n\"This is the way of the world,\" said she, \"which either robs us\nof our property, our friends, or our lovers; and some times of\nall together.\" In confirmation of her remark, she at the same\ntime gave me an account of the loss of the young prince,\noccasioned by the jealousy of her two sisters. She told me also\nby what accident they were transformed into bitches: and in the\nlast place, after a thousand testimonials of her love towards me,\nshe introduced me to my youngest sister, who had likewise taken\nsanctuary with her after the death of her mother.\n\nHaving returned our grateful acknowledgments to God for having\nthus brought us together, we resolved to preserve our freedom,\nand never again to separate. We have now long enjoyed this\ntranquil life. As it was my business to manage the affairs of the\nhouse, I always took pleasure in going myself to purchase what we\nwanted. I happened to go abroad yesterday for this purpose, and\nthe things I bought I caused to be carried home by a porter, who\nproving to be a sensible and jocose fellow, we kept with us for a\nlittle diversion. Three calenders happened to come to our door as\nit began to grow dark, and prayed us to give them shelter till\nthe next morning We admitted them upon certain conditions which\nthey agreed to observe; and after we had made them sit at table\nwith us, they in their own way entertained us with a concert of\nmusic. At this time we heard knocking at our gate. This proceeded\nfrom three merchants of Moussol, men of good appearance, who\nbegged the same favour which the calenders had obtained before.\nWe consented upon the same conditions, but neither of them kept\ntheir promise. Though we had power, as well as justice on our\nside, to punish them, yet we contented ourselves with demanding\nfrom them the history of their lives; and afterwards confined our\nrevenge to dismissing them, after they had done, and denying them\nthe asylum they requested.\n\nThe caliph was well pleased to be thus informed of what he\ndesired to know; and publicly expressed his admiration of what he\nhad heard.\n\nThe caliph having satisfied his curiosity, thought himself\nobliged to shew his generosity to the calender princes, and also\nto give the three ladies some proof of his bounty. He himself,\nwithout making use of his minister, the grand vizier, spoke to\nZobeide. \"Madam, did not this fairy, that shewed herself to you\nin the shape of a serpent, and imposed such a rigorous command\nupon you, tell you where her place of abode was? Or rather, did\nshe not promise to see you, and restore those bitches to their\nnatural shape?\"\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" answered Zobeide, \"I forgot to tell\nyour majesty that the fairy left with me a bundle of hair,\nsaying, that her presence would one day be of use to me; and\nthen, if I only burnt two tufts of this hair, she would be with\nme in a moment, though she were beyond mount Caucasus.\" \"Madam,\"\ndemanded the caliph, \"where is the bundle of hair?\" She answered,\n\"Ever since that time I have been so careful of it, that I always\ncarry it about me.\" Upon which she pulled it out, opened the case\nwhich contained it, and shewed it to him. \"Well then,\" said the\ncaliph, \"let us bring the fairy hither; you could not call her in\na better time, for I long to see her.\"\n\nZobeide having consented, fire was brought in, and she threw the\nwhole bundle of hair into it. The palace at that instant began to\nshake, and the fairy appeared before the caliph in the form of a\nlady very richly dressed.\n\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" said she to the prince, \"you see I\nam ready to receive your commands. The lady who gave me this call\nby your order did me essential service. To evince my gratitude, I\nrevenged her of her sisters' inhumanity, by changing them to\nbitches; but if your majesty commands me, I will restore them to\ntheir former shape.\"\n\n\"Generous fairy,\" replied the caliph, \"you cannot do me a greater\npleasure; vouchsafe them that favour, and I will find some means\nto comfort them for their hard penance. But besides, I have\nanother boon to ask in favour of that lady, who has had such\ncruel usage from an unknown husband. As you undoubtedly know all\nthings, oblige me with the name of this barbarous wretch, who\ncould not be contented to exercise his outrageous and unmanly\ncruelty upon her person, but has also most unjustly taken from\nher all her substance. I only wonder how such an unjust and\ninhuman action could be performed under my authority, and even in\nmy residence, without having come to my knowledge.\"\n\n\"To oblige your majesty,\" answered the fairy, \"I will restore the\ntwo bitches to their former state, and I will so cure the lady of\nher scars, that it shall never appear she was so beaten; and I\nwill also tell you who it was that abused her.\"\n\nThe caliph sent for the two bitches from Zobeide's house, and\nwhen they came, a glass of water was brought to the fairy by her\ndesire. She pronounced over it some words which nobody\nunderstood; then throwing some part of it upon Amene, and the\nrest upon the bitches, the latter became two ladies of surprising\nbeauty, and the scars that were upon Amene disappeared. After\nwhich the fairy said to the caliph, \"Commander of the faithful, I\nmust now discover to you the unknown husband you enquire after.\nHe is very nearly related to yourself, for it is prince Amin,\nyour eldest son, who falling passionately in love with this lady\nfrom the fame of her beauty, by stratagem had her brought to his\nhouse, where he married her. As to the blows he caused to be\ngiven her, he is in some measure excusable; for the lady his\nspouse had been a little too easy, and the excuses she had made\nwere calculated to lead him to believe she was more faulty than\nshe really was. This is all I can say to satisfy your curiosity.\"\nAt these words she saluted the caliph, and vanished.\n\nThe prince being filled with admiration, and having much\nsatisfaction in the changes that had happened through his means,\nacted in such a manner as will perpetuate his memory to all ages.\nFirst, he sent for his son Amin, told him that he was informed of\nhis secret marriage, and how he had ill-treated Amene upon a very\nslight cause. Upon this the prince did not wait for his father's\ncommands, but received her again immediately.\n\nAfter which the caliph declared that he would give his own heart\nand hand to Zobeide, and offered the other three sisters to the\ncalenders, sons of sultans, who accepted them for their brides\nwith much joy. The caliph assigned each of them a magnificent\npalace in the city of Bagdad, promoted them to the highest\ndignities of his empire, and admitted them to his councils.\n\nThe chief Cauzee of Bagdad being called, with witnesses, wrote\nthe contracts of marriage; and the caliph in promoting by his\npatronage the happiness of many persons who had suffered such\nincredible calamities, drew a thousand blessings upon himself.\n\n\n\n\n                THE STORY OF SINBAD THE VOYAGER.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the same caliph Haroun al Rusheed, whom I have\nalready mentioned, there lived at Bagdad a poor porter called\nHindbad. One day, when the weather was excessively hot, he was\nemployed to carry a heavy burden from one end of the town to the\nother. Being much fatigued, and having still a great way to go,\nhe came into a street where a refreshing breeze blew on his face,\nand the pavement was sprinkled with rose-water. As he could not\ndesire a better place to rest and recruit himself, he took off\nhis load and sat upon it, near a large mansion.\n\nHe was much pleased that he stopped in this place; for the\nagreeable smell of wood of aloes, and of pastils that came from\nthe house, mixing with the scent of the rose-water, completely\nperfumed and embalmed the air. Besides, he heard from within a\nconcert of instrumental music, accompanied with the harmonious\nnotes of nightingales, and other birds, peculiar to the climate.\nThis charming melody, and the smell of several sorts of savoury\ndishes, made the porter conclude there was a feast, with great\nrejoicings within. His business seldom leading him that way, he\nknew not to whom the mansion belonged; but to satisfy his\ncuriosity, he went to some of the servants, whom he saw standing\nat the gate in magnificent apparel, and asked the name of the\nproprietor. \"How,\" replied one of them, \"do you live in Bagdad,\nand know not that this is the house of Sinbad, the sailor, that\nfamous voyager, who has sailed round the world?\" The porter, who\nhad heard of this Sinbad's riches, could not but envy a man whose\ncondition he thought to be as happy as his own was deplorable:\nand his mind being fretted with these reflections, he lifted up\nhis eyes to heaven, and said loud enough to be heard, \"Almighty\ncreator of all things, consider the difference between Sinbad and\nme! I am every day exposed to fatigues and calamities, and can\nscarcely get coarse barley-bread for myself and my family, whilst\nhappy Sinbad profusely expends immense riches, and leads a life\nof continual pleasure. What has he done to obtain from thee a lot\nso agreeable? And what have I done to deserve one so wretched?\"\nHaving finished his expostulation, he struck his foot against the\nground, like a man absorbed in grief and despair.\n\nWhilst the porter was thus indulging his melancholy, a servant\ncame out of the house, and taking him by the arm, bade him follow\nhim, for Sinbad, his master, wanted to speak to him.\n\nSir, your majesty may easily imagine, that the repining Hindbad\nwas not a little surprised at this compliment. For, considering\nwhat he had said, he was afraid Sinbad had sent for him to punish\nhim: therefore he would have excused himself, alleging, that he\ncould not leave his burden in the middle of the street. But\nSinbad's servants assured him they would look to it, and were so\nurgent with him, that he was obliged to yield.\n\nThe servants brought him into a great hall, where a number of\npeople sat round a table, covered with all sorts of savoury\ndishes. At the upper end sat a comely venerable gentleman, with a\nlong white beard, and behind him stood a number of officers and\ndomestics, all ready to attend his pleasure. This personage was\nSinbad. The porter, whose fear was increased at the sight of so\nmany people, and of a banquet so sumptuous, saluted the company\ntrembling. Sinbad bade him draw near, and seating him at his\nright hand, served him himself, and gave him excellent wine, of\nwhich there was abundance upon the sideboard.\n\nWhen the repast was over, Sinbad addressed his conversation to\nHindbad; and calling him brother, according to the manner of the\nArabians, when they are familiar one with another, enquired his\nname and employment.\n\n\"My lord,\" answered he, \"my name is Hindbad.\" \"I am very glad to\nsee you,\" replied Sinbad; \"and I daresay the same on behalf of\nall the company: but I wish to hear from your own mouth what it\nwas you lately said in the street.\" Sinbad had himself heard the\nporter complain through the window, and this it was that induced\nhim to have him brought in.\n\nAt this request, Hindbad hung down his head in confusion, and\nreplied, \"My lord, I confess that my fatigue put me out of\nhumour, and occasioned me to utter some indiscreet words, which I\nbeg you to pardon.\" \"Do not think I am so unjust,\" resumed\nSinbad, \"as to resent such a complaint. I consider your\ncondition, and instead of upbraiding, commiserate you. But I must\nrectify your error concerning myself. You think, no doubt, that I\nhave acquired, without labour and trouble, the ease and\nindulgence which I now enjoy. But do not mistake; I did not\nattain to this happy condition, without enduring for several\nyears more trouble of body and mind than can well be imagined.\nYes, gentlemen,\" he added, speaking to the whole company, \"I can\nassure you, my troubles were so extraordinary, that they were\ncalculated to discourage the most covetous from undertaking such\nvoyages as I did, to acquire riches. Perhaps you have never heard\na distinct account of my wonderful adventures, and the dangers I\nencountered, in my seven voyages; and since I have this\nopportunity, I will give you a faithful account of them, not\ndoubting but it will be acceptable.\"\n\nAs Sinbad wished to relate his adventures chiefly on the porter's\naccount, he ordered his burden to be carried to the place of its\ndestination, and then proceeded.\n\n\n\n\n                       The First Voyage.\n\n\n\nI inherited from my father considerable property, the greater\npart of which I squandered in my youth in dissipation; but I\nperceived my error, and reflected that riches were perishable,\nand quickly consumed by such ill managers as myself. I farther\nconsidered, that by my irregular way of living I wretchedly\nmisspent my time; which is, of all things, the most valuable. I\nremembered the saying of the great Solomon, which I had\nfrequently heard from my father; That death is more tolerable\nthan poverty. Struck with these reflections, I collected the\nremains of my fortune, and sold all my effects by public auction.\nI then entered into a contract with some merchants, who traded by\nsea. I took the advice of such as I thought most capable of\nassisting me: and resolving to improve what money I had, I went\nto Bussorah, and embarked with several merchants on board a ship\nwhich we had jointly fitted out.\n\nWe set sail, and steered our course towards the Indies, through\nthe Persian gulf, which is formed by the coasts of Arabia Felix\non the right, and by those of Persia on the left, and, according\nto common opinion is seventy leagues wide at the broadest place.\nThe eastern sea, as well as that of the Indies, is very spacious.\nIt is bounded on one side by the coasts of Abyssinia, and is\n4,500 leagues in length to the isles of Vakvak. At first I was\ntroubled with the sea-sickness, but speedily recovered my health,\nand was not afterwards subject to that complaint.\n\nIn our voyage we touched at several islands, where we sold or\nexchanged our goods. One day, whilst under sail, we were becalmed\nnear a small island, but little elevated above the level of the\nwater, and resembling a green meadow. The captain ordered his\nsails to be furled, and permitted such persons as were so\ninclined to land; of this number I was one.\n\nBut while we were enjoying ourselves in eating and drinking, and\nrecovering ourselves from the fatigue of the sea, the island on a\nsudden trembled, and shook us terribly.\n\nThe trembling of the island was perceived on board the ship, and\nwe were called upon to re-embark speedily, or we should all be\nlost; for what we took for an island proved to be the back of a\nsea monster. The nimblest got into the sloop, others betook\nthemselves to swimming; but for myself I was still upon the back\nof the creature, when he dived into the sea, and I had time only\nto catch hold of a piece of wood that we had brought out of the\nship to make a fire. Meanwhile, the captain, having received\nthose on board who were in the sloop, and taken up some of those\nthat swam, resolved to improve the favourable gale that had just\nrisen, and hoisting his sails pursued his voyage, so that it was\nimpossible for me to recover the ship.\n\nThus was I exposed to the mercy of the waves. I struggled for my\nlife all the rest of the day and the following night. By this\ntime I found my strength gone, and despaired of saving my life,\nwhen happily a wave threw me against an island, The bank was high\nand rugged; so that I could scarcely have got up, had it not been\nfor some roots of trees, which fortune seemed to have preserved\nin this place for my safety. Having reached the land, I lay down\nupon the ground half dead, until the sun appeared. Then, though I\nwas very feeble, both from hard labour and want of food, I crept\nalong to find some herbs fit to eat, and had the good luck not\nonly to procure some, but likewise to discover a spring of\nexcellent water, which contributed much to recover me. After this\nI advanced farther into the island, and at last reached a fine\nplain, where at a great distance I perceived a horse feeding. I\nwent towards it, fluctuating between hope and fear, for I knew\nnot whether in advancing I was more likely to endanger or to\npreserve my life. As I approached, I perceived it to be a very\nfine mare, tied to a stake. Whilst I was admiring its beauty, I\nheard from beneath the voice of a man, who immediately appeared,\nand asked me who I was? I related to him my adventure, after\nwhich, taking me by the hand, he led me into a cave, where there\nwere several other people, no less amazed to see me than I was to\nsee them.\n\nI partook of some provisions which they offered me. I then asked\nthem what they did in such a desert place? to which they\nanswered, that they were grooms belonging to Maha-raja, sovereign\nof the island; that every year, at the same season, they brought\nthither the king's mares, and fastened them as I had seen, until\nthey were covered by a sea-horse, who afterwards endeavoured to\ndestroy the mares; but was prevented by their noise, and obliged\nto return to the sea. The mares when in foal were taken back, and\nthe horses thus produced were kept for the king's use, and called\nseahorses. They added, that they were to return home on the\nmorrow, and had I been one day later, I must have perished,\nbecause the inhabited part of the island was at a great distance,\nand it would have been impossible for me to have got thither\nwithout a guide.\n\nWhile they entertained me thus, the horse came out of the sea, as\nthey had told me, covered the mare, and afterwards would have\ndevoured her; but upon a great noise made by the grooms, he left\nher, and plunged into the sea.\n\nNext morning they returned with their mares to the capital of the\nisland, took me with them, and presented me to the Maha-raja. He\nasked me who I was, and by what adventure I had come into his\ndominions? After I had satisfied him, he told me he was much\nconcerned for my misfortune, and at the same time ordered that I\nshould want nothing; which commands his officers were so generous\nand careful as to see exactly fulfilled.\n\nBeing a merchant, I frequented men of my own profession, and\nparticularly enquired for those who were strangers, that perchance I\nmight hear news from Bagdad, or find an opportunity to return. For the\nMaha-raja's capital is situated on the sea-coast, and has a fine\nharbour, where ships arrive daily from the different quarters of the\nworld. I frequented also the society of the learned Indians, and took\ndelight to hear them converse; but withal, I took care to make my\ncourt regularly to the Maha-raja, and conversed with the governors and\npetty kings, his tributaries, that were about him. They put a thousand\nquestions respecting my country; and I being willing to inform myself\nas to their laws and customs, asked them concerning every thing which\nI thought worth knowing.\n\nThere belongs to this king an island named Cassel. They assured\nme that every night a noise of drums was heard there, whence the\nmariners fancied that it was the residence of Degial. I\ndetermined to visit this wonderful place, and in my way thither\nsaw fishes of 100 and 200 cubits long, that occasion more fear\nthan hurt; for they are so timorous, that they will fly upon the\nrattling of two sticks or boards. I saw likewise other fish about\na cubit in length, that had heads like owls.\n\nAs I was one day at the port after my return, a ship arrived, and\nas soon as she cast anchor, they began to unload her, and the\nmerchants on board ordered their goods to be carried into the\ncustomhouse. As I cast my eye upon some bales, and looked to the\nname, I found my own, and perceived the bales to be the same that\nI had embarked at Bussorah. I also knew the captain; but being\npersuaded that he believed me to be drowned, I went, and asked\nhim whose bales these were? He replied, that they belonged to a\nmerchant at Bagdad, called Sinbad, who came to sea with him; but\none day, being near an island, as was supposed, he went ashore,\nwith several other passengers, upon this island, which was only a\nmonstrous fish, that lay asleep upon the the sur-face of the\nwater: but as soon as he felt the heat of the fire they had\nkindled upon his back, to dress some victuals, began to move, and\ndived under water. Most of the persons who were upon him\nperished, and among them the unfortunate Sinbad. Those bales\nbelonged to him, and I am resolved to trade with them until I\nmeet with some of his family, to whom I may return the profit. \"I\nam that Sinbad,\" said I, \"whom you thought to be dead, and those\nbales are mine.\"\n\nWhen the captain heard me speak thus, \"Heavens!\" he exclaimed,\n\"whom can we trust in these times? There is no faith left among\nmen. I saw Sinbad perish with my own eyes, as did also the\npassengers on board, and yet you tell me you are that Sinbad.\nWhat impudence is this? To look on you, one would take you to be\na man of probity, and yet you tell a horrible falsehood, in order\nto possess yourself of what does not belong to you.\" \"Have\npatience,\" replied I; \"do me the favour to hear what I have to\nsay.\" \"Very well,\" said he, \"speak, I am ready to hear you.\" Then\nI told him how I had escaped, and by what adventure I met with\nthe grooms of Maha-raja, who had brought me to his court.\n\nHis confidence began to abate upon this declaration, and he was\nat length persuaded that I was no cheat: for there came people\nfrom his ship who knew me, paid me great compliments, and\nexpressed much joy at seeing me alive. At last he recollected me\nhimself, and embracing me, \"Heaven be praised,\" said he, \"for\nyour happy escape. I cannot express the joy it affords, me; there\nare your goods, take and do with them as you please.\" I thanked\nhim, acknowledged his probity, and in requital, offered him part\nof my goods as a present, which he generously refused.\n\nI took out what was most valuable in my bales, and presented them\nto the Maha-raja, who, knowing my misfortune, asked me how I came\nby such rarities. I acquainted him with the circumstance of their\nrecovery. He was pleased at my good luck, accepted my present,\nand in return gave me one much more considerable. Upon this, I\ntook leave of him, and went aboard the same ship, after I had\nexchanged my goods for the commodities of that country. I carried\nwith me wood of aloes, sandal, camphire, nutmegs, cloves, pepper,\nand ginger. We passed by several islands, and at last arrived at\nBussorah, from whence I came to this city, with the value of\n100,000 sequins. My family and I received one another with all\nthe transports of sincere affection. I bought slaves of both\nsexes, and a landed estate, and built a magnificent house. Thus I\nsettled myself, resolving to forget the miseries I had suffered,\nand to enjoy the pleasures of life.\n\nSinbad stopped here, and ordered the musicians to proceed with\ntheir concert, which the story had interrupted. The company\ncontinued enjoying themselves till the evening, and it was time\nto retire, when Sinbad sent for a purse of 100 sequins and giving\nit to the porter, said, \"Take this, Hindbad, return to your home,\nand come back to-morrow to hear more of my adventures.\" The\nporter went away, astonished at the honour done, and the present\nmade him. The account of this adventure proved very agreeable to\nhis wife and children, who did not fail to return thanks to God\nfor what providence had sent him by the hand of Sinbad.\n\nHindbad put on his best apparel next day, and returned to the\nbountiful traveller, who received him with a pleasant air, and\nwelcomed him heartily. When all the guests had arrived, dinner\nwas served, and continued a long time. When it was ended, Sinbad,\naddressing himself to the company, said, \"Gentlemen, be pleased\nto listen to the adventures of my second voyage; they deserve\nyour attention even more than those of the first.\" Upon which\nevery one held his peace, and Sinbad proceeded.\n\n\n\n\n                       The Second Voyage.\n\n\n\nI designed, after my first voyage, to spend the rest of my days\nat Bagdad, as I had the honour to tell you yesterday; but it was\nnot long ere I grew weary of an indolent life. My inclination to\ntrade revived. I bought goods proper for the commerce I intended,\nand put to sea a second time with merchants of known probity. We\nembarked on board a good ship, and after recommending ourselves\nto God, set sail. We traded from island to island, and exchanged\ncommodities with great profit. One day we landed in an island\ncovered with several sorts of fruit-trees, but we could see\nneither man nor animal. We went to take a little fresh air in the\nmeadows, along the streams that watered them. Whilst some\ndiverted themselves with gathering flowers, and other fruits, I\ntook my wine and provisions, and sat down near a stream betwixt\ntwo high trees, which formed a thick shade. I made a good meal,\nand afterwards fell asleep. I cannot tell how long I slept, but\nwhen I awoke the ship was gone.\n\nI was much alarmed at finding the ship gone. I got up and looked\naround me, but could not see one of the merchants who landed with\nme. I perceived the ship under sail, but at such a distance, that\nI lost sight of her in a short time.\n\nI leave you to guess at my melancholy reflections in this sad\ncondition: I was ready to die with grief. I cried out in agony;\nbeat my head and breast, and threw myself upon the ground, where\nI lay some time in despair, one afflicting thought being\nsucceeded by another still more afflicting. I upbraided myself a\nhundred times for not being content with the produce of my first\nvoyage, that might have sufficed me all my life. But all this was\nin vain, and my repentance too late.\n\nAt last I resigned myself to the will of God. Not knowing what to\ndo, I climbed up to the top of a lofty tree, from whence I looked\nabout on all sides, to see if I could discover any thing that\ncould give me hopes. When I gazed towards the sea I could see\nnothing but sky and water; but looking over the land I beheld\nsomething white; and coming down, I took what provision I had\nleft, and went towards it, the distance being so great, that I\ncould not distinguish what it was.\n\nAs I approached, I thought it to be a white dome, of a prodigious\nheight and extent; and when I came up to it, I touched it, and\nfound it to be very smooth. I went round to see if it was open on\nany side, but saw it was not, and that there was no climbing up\nto the top as it was so smooth. It was at least fifty paces\nround.\n\nBy this time the sun was about to set, and all of a sudden the\nsky became as dark as if it had been covered with a thick cloud.\nI was much astonished at this sudden darkness, but much more when\nI found it occasioned by a bird of a monstrous size, that came\nflying toward me. I remembered that I had often heard mariners\nspeak of a miraculous bird called Roc, and conceived that the\ngreat dome which I so much admired must be its egg. In short, the\nbird alighted, and sat over the egg. As I perceived her coming, I\ncrept to the egg, so that I had before me one of the legs of the\nbird, which was as big as the trunk of a tree. I tied myself\nstrongly to it with my turban, in hopes that the roc next morning\nwould carry me with her out of this desert island. After having\npassed the night in this condition, the bird flew away as soon as\nit was daylight, and carried me so high, that I could not discern\nthe earth; she afterwards descended with so much rapidity that I\nlost my senses. But when I found myself on the ground, I speedily\nuntied the knot, and had scarcely done so, when the roc, having\ntaken up a serpent of a monstrous length in her bill, flew away.\n\nThe spot where it left me was encompassed on all sides by\nmountains, that seemed to reach above the clouds, and so steep\nthat there was no possibility of getting out of the valley. This\nwas a new perplexity: so that when I compared this place with the\ndesert island from which the roc had brought me, I found that I\nhad gained nothing by the change.\n\nAs I walked through this valley, I perceived it was strewed with\ndiamonds, some of which were of a surprising bigness. I took\npleasure in looking upon them; but shortly saw at a distance such\nobjects as greatly diminished my satisfaction, and which I could\nnot view without terror, namely, a great number of serpents, so\nmonstrous, that the least of them was capable of swallowing an\nelephant. They retired in the day-time to their dens, where they\nhid themselves from the roc their enemy, and came out only in the\nnight.\n\nI spent the day in walking about in the valley, resting myself at\ntimes in such places as I thought most convenient. When night\ncame on, I went into a cave, where I thought I might repose in\nsafety. I secured the entrance, which was low and narrow, with a\ngreat stone to preserve me from the serpents; but not so far as\nto exclude the light. I supped on part of my provisions, but the\nserpents, which began hissing round me, put me into such extreme\nfear, that you may easily imagine I did not sleep. When day\nappeared, the serpents retired, and I came out of the cave\ntrembling. I can justly say, that I walked upon diamonds, without\nfeeling any inclination to touch them. At last I sat down, and\nnotwithstanding my apprehensions, not having closed my eyes\nduring the night, fell asleep, after having eaten a little more\nof my provision. But I had scarcely shut my eyes, when something\nthat fell by me with a great noise awaked me. This was a large\npiece of raw meat; and at the same time I saw several others fall\ndown from the rocks in different places.\n\nI had always regarded as fabulous what I had heard sailors and\nothers relate of the valley of diamonds, and of the stratagems\nemployed by merchants to obtain jewels from thence; but now I\nfound that they had stated nothing but truth. For the fact is,\nthat the merchants come to the neighbourhood of this valley, when\nthe eagles have young ones, and throwing great joints of meat\ninto the valley, the diamonds, upon whose points they fall, stick\nto them; the eagles, which are stronger in this country than any\nwhere else, pounce with great force upon those pieces of meat,\nand carry them to their nests on the precipices of the rocks to\nfeed their young: the merchants at this time run to their nests,\ndisturb and drive off the eagles by their shouts, and take away\nthe diamonds that stick to the meat.\n\nUntil I perceived the device I had concluded it to be impossible\nfor me to get from this abyss, which I regarded as my grave; but\nnow I changed my opinion, and began to think upon the means of my\ndeliverance.\n\nI began to collect together the largest diamonds I could find,\nand put them into the leather bag in which I used to carry my\nprovisions. I afterwards took the largest of the pieces of meat,\ntied it close round me with the cloth of my turban, and then laid\nmyself upon the ground with my face downward, the bag of diamonds\nbeing made fast to my girdle.\n\nI had scarcely placed myself in this posture when the eagles\ncame. Each of them seized a piece of meat, and one of the\nstrongest having taken me up, with the piece of meat to which I\nwas fastened, carried me to his nest on the top of the mountain.\nThe merchants immediately began their shouting to frighten the\neagles; and when they had obliged them to quit their prey, one of\nthem came to the nest where I was. He was much alarmed when he\nsaw me; but recovering himself, instead of enquiring how I came\nthither began to quarrel with me, and asked, why I stole his\ngoods? \"You will treat me,\" replied I, \"with more civility, when\nyou know me better. Do not be uneasy, I have diamonds enough for\nyou and myself, more than all the other merchants together.\nWhatever they have they owe to chance, but I selected for myself\nin the bottom of the valley those which you see in this bag.\" I\nhad scarcely done speaking, when the other merchants came\ncrowding about us, much astonished to see me; but they were much\nmore surprised when I told them my story. Yet they did not so\nmuch admire my stratagem to effect my deliverance, as my courage\nin putting it into execution.\n\nThey conducted me to their encampment, and there having opened my\nbag, they were surprised at the largeness of my diamonds, and\nconfessed that in all the courts which they had visited they had\nnever seen any of such size and perfection. I prayed the\nmerchant, who owned the nest to which I had been carried (for\nevery merchant had his own), to take as many for his share as he\npleased. He contented himself with one, and that too the least of\nthem; and when I pressed him to take more, without fear of doing\nme any injury, \"No,\" said he, \"I am very well satisfied with\nthis, which is valuable enough to save me the trouble of making\nany more voyages, and will raise as great a fortune as I desire.\"\n\nI spent the night with the merchants, to whom I related my story\na second time, for the satisfaction of those who had not heard\nit. I could not moderate my joy when I found myself delivered\nfrom the danger I have mentioned. I thought myself in a dream,\nand could scarcely believe myself out of danger.\n\nThe merchants had thrown their pieces of meat into the valley for\nseveral days. And each of them being satisfied with the diamonds\nthat had fallen to his lot, we left the place the next morning,\nand travelled near high mountains, where there were serpents of a\nprodigious length, which we had the good fortune to escape. We\ntook shipping at the first port we reached, and touched at the\nisle of Roha, where the trees grow that yield camphire. This tree\nis so large, and its branches so thick, that one hundred men may\neasily sit under its shade. The juice, of which the camphire is\nmade, exudes from a hole bored in the upper part of the tree, is\nreceived in a vessel, where it thickens to a consistency, and\nbecomes what we call camphire; after the juice is thus drawn out,\nthe tree withers and dies.\n\nIn this island is also found the rhinoceros, an animal less than\nthe elephant, but larger than the buffalo. It has a horn upon its\nnose, about a cubit in length; this horn is solid, and cleft\nthrough the middle, upon this may be seen white lines,\nrepresenting the figure of a man. The rhinoceros fights with the\nelephant, runs his horn into his belly, and carries him off upon\nhis head but the blood and the fat of the elephant running into\nhis eyes, and making him blind, he falls to the ground; and then,\nstrange to relate! the roc comes and carries them both away in\nher claws, for food for her young ones.\n\nI pass over many other things peculiar to this island, lest I\nshould be troublesome to you. Here I exchanged some of my\ndiamonds for merchandize. From hence we went to other islands,\nand at last, having touched at several trading towns of the\ncontinent, we landed at Bussorah, from whence I proceeded to\nBagdad. There I immediately gave large presents to the poor, and\nlived honourably upon the vast riches I had brought, and gained\nwith so much fatigue.\n\nThus Sinbad ended the relation of the second voyage, gave Hindbad\nanother hundred sequins, and invited him to come the next day to\nhear the account of the third. The rest of the guests returned to\ntheir homes, and came again the following day at the same hour,\nand one may be sure the porter did not fail, having by this time\nalmost forgotten his former poverty. When dinner was over, Sinbad\ndemanded attention, and gave them an account of his third voyage,\nas follows.\n\n\n\n\n                           The Third Voyage.\n\n\n\nI soon lost in the pleasures of life the remembrance of the\nperils I had encountered in my two former voyages; and being in\nthe flower of my age, I grew weary of living without business,\nand hardening myself against the thought of any danger I might\nincur, went from Bagdad to Bussorah with the richest commodities\nof the country. There I embarked again with some merchants. We\nmade a long voyage, and touched at several ports, where we\ncarried on a considerable trade. One day, being out in the main\nocean, we were overtaken by a dreadful tempest, which drove us\nfrom our course. The tempest continued several days, and brought\nus before the port of an island, which the captain was very\nunwilling to enter; but we were obliged to cast anchor. When we\nhad furled our sails, the captain told us, that this, and some\nother neighbouring islands, were inhabited by hairy savages, who\nwould speedily attack us; and though they were but dwarfs, yet\nour misfortune was such, that we must make no resistance, for\nthey were more in number than the locusts; and if we happened to\nkill one of them, they would all fall upon us and destroy us.\n\nThis account of the captain, continued Sinbad put the whole\ncompany into great consternation and we soon found that what he\nhad told us was but too true; an innumerable multitude of\nfrightful savages, about two feet high, covered all over with red\nhair, came swimming towards us, and encompassed our ship. They\nspoke to us as they came near, but we understood not their\nlanguage; they climbed up the sides of the ship with such agility\nas surprised us. We beheld all this with dread, but without\ndaring to defend ourselves, or to divert them from their\nmischievous design. In short, they took down our sails, cut the\ncable, and hauling to the shore, made us all get out, and\nafterwards carried the ship into another island from whence they\nhad come. All voyagers carefully avoided the island where they\nleft us, it being very dangerous to stay there, for a reason you\nshall presently hear; but we were forced to bear our affliction\nwith patience.\n\nWe went forward into the island, where we gathered some fruits\nand herbs to prolong our lives as long as we could; but we\nexpected nothing but death. As we advanced, we perceived at a\ndistance a vast pile of building, and made towards it. We found\nit to be a palace, elegantly built, and very lofty, with a gate\nof ebony of two leaves, which we forced open. We entered the\ncourt, where we saw before us a large apartment, with a porch,\nhaving on one side a heap of human bones, and on the other a vast\nnumber of roasting spits. We trembled at this spectacle, and\nbeing fatigued with travelling, fell to the ground, seized with\ndeadly apprehension, and lay a long time motionless.\n\nThe sun set, and whilst we were in the lamentable condition I\nhave described, the gate of the apartment opened with a loud\ncrash, and there came out the horrible figure of a black man, as\ntall as a lofty palm-tree. He had but one eye, and that in the\nmiddle of his forehead, where it looked as red as a burning coal.\nHis fore-teeth were very long and sharp, and stood out of his\nmouth, which was as deep as that of a horse. His upper lip hung\ndown upon his breast. His ears resembled those of an elephant,\nand covered his shoulders; and his nails were as long and crooked\nas the talons of the greatest birds. At the sight of so frightful\na giant, we became insensible, and lay like dead men.\n\nAt last we came to ourselves, and saw him sitting in the porch\nlooking at us. When he had considered us well, he advanced\ntowards us, and laying his hand upon me, took me up by the nape\nof my neck, and turned round as a butcher would do a sheep's\nhead. After having examined me, and perceiving me to be so lean\nthat I had nothing but skin and bone, he let me go. He took up\nall the rest one by one, and viewed them in the same manner. The\ncaptain being the fattest, he held him with one hand, as I would\ndo a sparrow, and thrust a spit through him; he then kindled a\ngreat fire, roasted, and ate him in his apartment for his supper.\nHaving finished his repast, he returned to his porch, where he\nlay and fell asleep, snoring louder than thunder. He slept thus\ntill morning. As to ourselves, it was not possible for us to\nenjoy any rest, so that we passed the night in the most painful\napprehension that can be imagined. When day appeared the giant\nawoke, got up, went out, and left us in the palace.\n\nWhen we thought him at a distance, we broke the melancholy\nsilence we had preserved the whole of the night, and filled the\npalace with our lamentations and groans. Though we were several\nin number, and had but one enemy, it never occurred to us to\neffect our deliverance by putting him to death. This enterprize\nhowever, though difficult of execution, was the only design we\nought naturally to have formed.\n\nWe thought of several other expedients, but determined upon none;\nand submitting ourselves to what it should please God to order\nconcerning us, we spent the day in traversing the island,\nsupporting ourselves with fruits and herbs as we had done the day\nbefore. In the evening we sought for some place of shelter, but\nfound none; so that we were forced, whether we would or not, to\nreturn to the palace.\n\nThe giant failed not to return, and supped once more upon one of\nour companions, after which he slept, and snored till day, and\nthen went out and left us as before. Our situation appeared to us\nso dreadful, that several of my comrades designed to throw\nthemselves into the sea, rather than die so painful a death; and\nendeavoured to persuade the others to follow their example. Upon\nwhich one of the company answered, \"That we were forbidden to\ndestroy ourselves: but even if that were not the case, it was\nmuch more reasonable to devise some method to rid ourselves of\nthe monster who had destined us to so horrible a fate.\"\n\nHaving thought of a project for this purpose, I communicated it\nto my comrades, who approved it. \"Brethren,\" said I, \"you know\nthere is much timber floating upon the coast; if you will be\nadvised by me, let us make several rafts capable of bearing us,\nand when they are done, leave them there till we find it\nconvenient to use them. In the mean time, we will carry into\nexecution the design I proposed to you for our deliverance from\nthe giant, and if it succeed, we may remain here patiently\nawaiting the arrival of some ship to carry us out of this fatal\nisland; but if it happen to miscarry, we will take to our rafts,\nand put to sea. I admit that by exposing ourselves to the fury of\nthe waves, we run a risk of losing our lives; but is it not\nbetter to be buried in the sea than in the entrails of this\nmonster, who has already devoured two of our number?\" My advice\nwas approved, and we made rafts capable of carrying three persons\non each.\n\nWe returned to the palace towards the evening, and the giant\narrived shortly after. We were forced to submit to seeing another\nof our comrades roasted. But at last we revenged ourselves on the\nbrutish giant in the following manner. After he had finished his\ncursed supper, he lay down on his back, and fell asleep. As soon\nas we heard him snore, according to his custom, nine of the\nboldest among us, and myself, took each of us a spit, and putting\nthe points of them into the fire till they were burning hot, we\nthrust them into his eye all at once, and blinded him. The pain\nmade him break out into a frightful yell: he started up, and\nstretched out his hands, in order to sacrifice some of us to his\nrage: but we ran to such places as he could not reach; and after\nhaving sought for us in vain, he groped for the gate, and went\nout, howling in agony.\n\nWe quitted the palace after the giant, and came to the shore,\nwhere we had left our rafts, and put them immediately to sea. We\nwaited till day, in order to get upon them, in case the giant\nshould come towards us with any guide of his own species, but we\nhoped if he did not appear by sun-rising, and gave over his\nhowling, which we still heard, that he would prove to be dead;\nand if that happened to be the case, we resolved to stay in that\nisland, and not to risk our lives upon the rafts: but day had\nscarcely appeared, when we perceived our cruel enemy, accompanied\nwith two others almost of the same size, leading him; and a great\nnumber more coming before him at a quick pace.\n\nWe did not hesitate to take to our rafts, and put to sea with all\nthe speed we could. The giants, who perceived this, took up great\nstones, and running to the shore, entered the water up to the\nmiddle, and threw so exactly, that they sunk all the rafts but\nthat I was upon; and all my companions, except the two with me,\nwere drowned. We rowed with all our might, and got out of the\nreach of the giants. But when we got out to sea, we were exposed\nto the mercy of the waves and winds, and tossed about, sometimes\non one side, and sometimes on another, and spent that night and\nthe following day under the most painful uncertainty as to our\nfate; but next morning we had the good fortune to be thrown upon\nan island, where we landed with much joy. We found excellent\nfruit, which afforded us great relief, and recruited our\nstrength.\n\nAt night we went to sleep on the sea-shore but were awakened by\nthe noise of a serpent of surprising length and thickness, whose\nscales made a rustling noise as he wound himself along. It\nswallowed up one of my comrades, notwithstanding his loud cries,\nand the efforts he made to extricate himself from it; dashing him\nseveral times against the ground, it crushed him, and we could\nhear it gnaw and tear the poor wretch's bones, though we had fled\nto a considerable distance. The following day, to our great\nterror, we saw the serpent again, when I exclaimed, \"O heaven, to\nwhat dangers are we exposed! We rejoiced yesterday at having\nescaped from the cruelty of a giant and the rage of the waves,\nnow are we fallen into another danger equally dreadful.\"\n\nAs we walked about, we saw a large tall tree upon which we\ndesigned to pass the following night, for our security; and\nhaving satisfied our hunger with fruit, we mounted it according.\nShortly after, the serpent came hissing to the foot of the tree;\nraised himself up against the trunk of it, and meeting with my\ncomrade, who sat lower than I, swallowed him at once, and went\noff.\n\nI remained upon the tree till it was day, and then came down,\nmore like a dead man than one alive, expecting the same fate with\nmy two companions. This filled me with horror, and I advanced\nsome steps to throw myself into the sea; but the natural love of\nlife prompting us to prolong it as long as we can, I withstood\nthis dictate of despair, and submitted myself to the will of God,\nwho disposes of our lives at his pleasure.\n\nIn the mean time I collected together a great quantity of small\nwood, brambles, and dry thorns, and making them up into\nfaggots, made a wide circle with them round the tree, and also\ntied some of them to the branches over my head. Having done this,\nwhen the evening came, I shut myself up within this circle, with\nthe melancholy satisfaction, that I had neglected nothing which\ncould preserve me from the cruel destiny with which I was\nthreatened. The serpent failed not to come at the usual hour, and\nwent round the tree, seeking for an opportunity to devour me, but\nwas prevented by the rampart I had made; so that he lay till day,\nlike a cat watching in vain for a mouse that has fortunately\nreached a place of safety. When day appeared, he retired, but I\ndared not to leave my fort until the sun arose.\n\nI felt so much fatigued by the labour to which it had put me, and\nsuffered so much from his poisonous breath, that death seemed\nmore eligible to me than the horrors of such a state. I came down\nfrom the tree, and, not thinking of the resignation I had the\npreceding day resolved to exercise, I ran towards the sea, with a\ndesign to throw myself into it.\n\nGod took compassion on my hopeless state; for just as I was going\nto throw myself into the sea, I perceived a ship at a\nconsiderable distance. I called as loud as I could, and taking\nthe linen from my turban, displayed it, that they might observe\nme. This had the desired effect; the crew perceived me, and the\ncaptain sent his boat for me. As soon as I came on board, the\nmerchants and seamen flocked about me, to know how I came into\nthat desert island; and after I had related to them all that had\nbefallen me, the oldest among them said to me, they had several\ntimes heard of the giants that dwelt in that island, that they\nwere cannibals, and ate men raw as well as roasted; and as to the\nserpents, they added, that there were abundance in the island\nthat hid themselves by day, and came abroad by night. After\nhaving testified their joy at my escaping so many dangers, they\nbrought me the best of their provisions; and the captain, seeing\nthat I was in rags, was so generous as to give me one of his own\nsuits. We continued at sea for some time, touched at several\nislands, and at last landed at that of Salabat, where sandal wood\nis obtained, which is of great use in medicine. We entered the\nport, and came to anchor. The merchants began to unload their\ngoods, in order to sell or exchange them. In the mean time, the\ncaptain came to me, and said, \"Brother, I have here some goods\nthat belonged to a merchant, who sailed some time on board this\nship, and he being dead, I design to dispose of them for the\nbenefit of his heirs, when I find who they are.\" The bales he\nspoke of lay on the deck, and shewing them to me, he said, \"There\nare the goods; I hope you will take care to sell them, and you\nshall have factorage.\" I thanked him for thus affording me an\nopportunity of employing myself, because I hated to be idle.\n\nThe clerk of the ship took an account of all the bales, with the\nnames of the merchants to whom they belonged. And when he asked\nthe captain in whose name he should enter those he had given me\nthe charge of; \"Enter them,\" said the captain, \"in the name of\nSinbad.\" I could not hear myself named without some emotion; and\nlooking stedfastly on the captain, I knew him to be the person\nwho, in my second voyage, had left me in the island where I fell\nasleep, and sailed without me, or sending to see for me. But I\ncould not recollect him at first, he was so much altered since I\nhad seen him.\n\nI was not surprised that he, believing me to be dead, did not\nrecognize me. \"Captain,\" said I, \"was the merchant's name, to\nwhom those bales belonged, Sinbad?\" \"Yes,\" replied he, \"that was\nhis name; he came from Bagdad, and embarked on board my ship at\nBussorah. One day, when we landed at an island to take in water\nand other refreshments, I knew not by what mistake, I sailed\nwithout observing that he did not re-embark with us; neither I\nnor the merchants perceived it till four hours after. We had the\nwind in our stern, and so fresh a gale, that it was not then\npossible for us to tack about for him.\" \"You believe him then to\nbe dead?\" said I. \"Certainly,\" answered he. \"No, captain,\" I\nresumed; \"look at me, and you may know that I am Sinbad, whom you\nleft in that desert island.\"\n\nThe captain, continued Sinbad, having considered me attentively,\nrecognized me. \"God be praised,\" said he, embracing me; \"I\nrejoice that fortune has rectified my fault. There are your\ngoods, which I always took care to preserve.\" I took them from\nhim, and made him the acknowledgments to which he was entitled.\n\nFrom the isle of Salabat, we went to another, where I furnished\nmyself with cloves, cinnamon, and other spices. As we sailed from\nthis island, we saw a tortoise twenty cubits in length and\nbreadth. We observed also an amphibious animal like a cow, which\ngave milk; its skin is so hard, that they usually make bucklers\nof it. I saw another, which had the shape and colour of a camel.\n\nIn short, after a long voyage, I arrived at Bussorah, and from\nthence returned to Bagdad, with so much wealth that I knew not\nits extent. I gave a great deal to the poor, and bought another\nconsiderable estate in addition to what I had already.\n\nThus Sinbad finished the history of his third voyage; gave\nanother hundred sequins to Hindbad, invited him to dinner again\nthe next day, to hear the story of his fourth voyage. Hindbad and\nthe company retired; and on the following day, when they\nreturned, Sinbad after dinner continued the relation of his\nadventures.\n\n\n\n\n                       The Fourth Voyage.\n\n\n\nThe pleasures and amusements which I enjoyed after my third\nvoyage had not charms sufficient to divert me from another. My\npassion for trade, and my love of novelty, again prevailed. I\ntherefore settled my affairs, and having provided a stock of\ngoods fit for the traffic I designed to engage in, I set out on\nmy journey. I took the route of Persia, travelled over several\nprovinces, and then arrived at a port, where I embarked. We\nhoisted our sails, and touched at several ports of the continent,\nand some of the eastern islands, and put out to sea: we were\novertaken by such a sudden gust of wind, as obliged the captain\nto lower his yards, and take all other necessary precautions to\nprevent the danger that threatened us. But all was in vain our\nendeavours had no effect; the sails were split in a thousand\npieces, and the ship was stranded; several of the merchants and\nseamen were drowned and the cargo was lost.\n\nI had the good fortune, with several of the merchants and\nmariners, to get upon some planks, and we were carried by the\ncurrent to an island which lay before us. There we found fruit\nand spring water, which preserved our lives. We staid all night\nnear the place where we had been cast ashore, without consulting\nwhat we should do; our misfortune had so much dispirited us that\nwe could not deliberate.\n\nNext morning, as soon as the sun was up, we walked from the\nshore, and advancing into the island, saw some houses, which we\napproached. As soon as we drew near, we were encompassed by a\ngreat number of negroes, who seized us, shared us among them, and\ncarried us to their respective habitations.\n\nI, and five of my comrades, were carried to one place; here they\nmade us sit down, and gave us a certain herb, which they made\nsigns to us to eat. My comrades not taking notice that the blacks\nate none of it themselves, thought only of satisfying their\nhunger, and ate with greediness. But I, suspecting some trick,\nwould not so much as taste it, which happened well for me; for in\nlittle time after, I perceived my companions had lost their\nsenses, and that when they spoke to me, they knew not what they\nsaid.\n\nThe negroes fed us afterwards with rice, prepared with oil of\ncocoa-nuts; and my comrades, who had lost their reason, ate of it\ngreedily. I also partook of it, but very sparingly. They gave us\nthat herb at first on purpose to deprive us of our senses, that\nwe might not be aware of the sad destiny prepared for us; and\nthey supplied us with rice to fatten us; for, being cannibals,\ntheir design was to eat us as soon as we grew fat. This\naccordingly happened, for they devoured my comrades, who were not\nsensible of their condition; but my senses being entire, you may\neasily guess that instead of growing fat, as the rest did, I grew\nleaner every day. The fear of death under which I laboured,\nturned all my food into poison. I fell into a languishing\ndistemper, which proved my safety; for the negroes, having killed\nand eaten my companions, seeing me to be withered, lean, and\nsick, deferred my death.\n\nMeanwhile I had much liberty, so that scarcely any notice was taken of\nwhat I did, and this gave me an opportunity one day to get at a\ndistance from the houses, and to make my escape. An old man, who saw\nme, and suspected my design, called to me as loud as he could to\nreturn; but instead of obeying him, I redoubled my speed, and quickly\ngot out of sight. At that time there was none but the old man about\nthe houses, the rest being abroad, and not to return till night, which\nwas usual with them. Therefore, being sure that they could not arrive\ntime enough to pursue me, I went on till night, when I stopped to rest\na little, and to eat some of the provisions I had secured; but I\nspeedily set forward again, and travelled seven days, avoiding those\nplaces which seemed to be inhabited, and lived for the most part upon\ncocoa-nuts, which served me both for meat and drink. On the eighth day\nI came near the sea, and saw some white people like myself, gathering\npepper, of which there was great plenty in that place. This I took to\nbe a good omen, and went to them without any scruple.\n\nThe people who gathered pepper came to meet me as soon as they\nsaw me, and asked me in Arabic who I was, and whence I came? I\nwas overjoyed to hear them speak in my own language, and\nsatisfied their curiosity, by giving them an account of my\nshipwreck, and how I fell into the hands of the negroes. \"Those\nnegroes,\" replied they, \"eat men, and by what miracle did you\nescape their cruelty?\" I related to them the circumstances I have\njust mentioned, at which they were wonderfully surprised.\n\nI staid with them till they had gathered their quantity of\npepper, and then sailed with them to the island from whence they\nhad come. They presented me to their king, who was a good prince.\nHe had the patience to hear the relation of my adventures, which\nsurprised him; and he afterwards gave me clothes, and commanded\ncare to be taken of me.\n\nThe island was very well peopled, plentiful in everything, and\nthe capital a place of great trade. This agreeable retreat was\nvery comfortable to me after my misfortunes, and the kindness of\nthis generous prince completed my satisfaction. In a word, there\nwas not a person more in favour with him than myself; and,\nconsequently, every man in court and city sought to oblige me; so\nthat in a very little time I was looked upon rather as a native\nthan a stranger.\n\nI observed one thing, which to me appeared very extraordinary.\nAll the people, the king himself not excepted, rode their horses\nwithout saddle, bridle, or stirrups. This made me one day take\nthe liberty to ask the king how it came to pass? His majesty\nanswered, that I talked to him of things which nobody knew the\nuse of in his dominions.\n\nI went immediately to a workman, and gave him a model for making\nthe stock of a saddle. When that was done, I covered it myself\nwith velvet and leather, and embroidered it with gold. I\nafterwards went to a smith, who made me a bit, according to the\npattern I shewed him, and also some stirrups. When I had all\nthings completed, I presented them to the king, and put them upon\none of his horses. His majesty mounted immediately, and was so\npleased with them, that he testified his satisfaction by large\npresents. I could not avoid making several others for the\nministers and principal officers of his household, who all of\nthem made me presents that enriched me in a little time. I also\nmade some for the people of best quality in the city, which\ngained me great reputation and regard.\n\nAs I paid my court very constantly to the king, he said to me one\nday, \"Sinbad, I love thee; and all my subjects who know thee,\ntreat thee according to my example. I have one thing to demand of\nthee, which thou must grant.\" \"Sir,\" answered I, \"there is\nnothing but I will do, as a mark of my obedience to your majesty,\nwhose power over me is absolute.\" \"I have a mind thou shouldst\nmarry,\" replied he, \"that so thou mayst stay in my dominions, and\nthink no more of thy own country.\" I durst not resist the\nprince's will, and he gave me one of the ladies of his court,\nnoble, beautiful, and rich. The ceremonies of marriage being\nover, I went and dwelt with my wife, and for some time we lived\ntogether in perfect harmony. I was not, however, satisfied with\nmy banishment, therefore designed to make my escape the first\nopportunity, and to return to Bagdad; which my present\nsettlement, how advantageous soever, could not make me forget.\n\nAt this time the wife of one of my neighbours, with whom I had\ncontrasted a very strict friendship, fell sick, and died. I went\nto see and comfort him in his affliction, and finding him\nabsorbed in sorrow, I said to him as soon as I saw him, \"God\npreserve you and grant you a long life.\" \"Alas!\" replied he, \"how\ndo you think I should obtain the favour you wish me? I have not\nabove an hour to live.\" \"Pray,\" said I, \"do not entertain such a\nmelancholy thought; I hope I shall enjoy your company many\nyears.\" \"I wish you,\" he replied, \"a long life; but my days are\nat an end, for I must be buried this day with my wife. This is a\nlaw which our ancestors established in this island, and it is\nalways observed inviolably. The living husband is interred with\nthe dead wife, and the living wife with the dead husband. Nothing\ncan save me; every one must submit to this law.\"\n\nWhile he was giving me an account of this barbarous custom, the very\nrelation of which chilled my blood, his kindred, friends, and\nneighbours, came in a body to assist at the funeral. They dressed the\ncorpse of the woman in her richest apparel, and all her jewels, as if\nit had been her wedding-day; then they placed her on an open coffin,\nand began their march to the place of burial. The husband walked at\nthe head of the company, and followed the corpse. They proceeded to a\nhigh mountain, and when they had reached the place of their\ndestination, they took up a large stone, which covered the mouth of a\ndeep pit, and let down the corpse with all its apparel and jewels.\nThen the husband, embracing his kindred and friends, suffered himself\nto be put into another open coffin without resistance, with a pot of\nwater, and seven small loaves, and was let down in the same manner.\nThe mountain was of considerable length, and extended along the\nsea-shore, and the pit was very deep. The ceremony being over, the\naperture was again covered with the stone, and the company returned.\n\nIt is needless for me to tell you that I was a most melancholy\nspectator this funeral, while the rest were scarcely moved, the\ncustom was to them so familiar. I could not forbear communicating\nto the king my sentiment respecting the practice: \"Sir,\" I said,\n\"I cannot but feel astonished at the strange usage observed in\nthis country, of burying the living with the dead. I have been a\ngreat traveller, and seen many countries, but never heard of so\ncruel a law.\" \"What do you mean, Sinbad?\" replied the king: \"it\nis a common law. I shall be interred with the queen, my wife, if\nshe die first.\" \"But, Sir,\" said I, \"may I presume to ask your\nmajesty, if strangers be obliged to observe this law?\" \"Without\ndoubt,\" returned the king (smiling at the occasion of my\nquestion), \"they are not exempted, if they be married in this\nisland.\"\n\nI returned home much depressed by this answer; for the fear of my\nwife's dying first, and that I should be interred alive with her,\noccasioned me very uneasy reflections. But there was no remedy; I\nmust have patience, and submit to the will of God. I trembled\nhowever at every little indisposition of my wife. Alas! in a\nlittle time my fears were realized, for she fell sick, and died.\n\nJudge of my sorrow; to be interred alive, seemed to me as\ndeplorable a termination of life as to be devoured by cannibals.\nIt was necessary, however, to submit. The king and all his court\nexpressed their wish to honour the funeral with their presence,\nand the most considerable people of the city did the same. When\nall was ready for the ceremony, the corpse was put into a coffin,\nwith all her jewels and her most magnificent apparel. The\nprocession began, and as second actor in this doleful tragedy, I\nwent next the corpse, with my eyes full of tears, bewailing my\ndeplorable fate. Before we reached the mountain, I made an\nattempt to affect the minds of the spectators: I addressed myself\nto the king first, and then to all those that were round me;\nbowing before them to the earth, and kissing the border of their\ngarments, I prayed them to have compassion upon me. \"Consider,\"\nsaid I, \"that I am a stranger, and ought not to be subject to\nthis rigorous law, and that I have another wife and children in\nmy own country.\" Although I spoke in the most pathetic manner, no\none was moved by my address; on the contrary, they ridiculed my\ndread of death as cowardly, made haste to let my wife's corpse\ninto the pit, and lowered me down the next moment in an open\ncoffin, with full of water and seven loaves. In short, the fatal\nceremony being performed, they covered over the mouth of the pit,\nnotwithstanding my grief and piteous lamentations.\n\nAs I approached the bottom, I discovered by the aid of the little\nlight that came from above the nature of this subterranean place,\nit seemed an endless cavern, and might be about fifty fathom\ndeep. I was annoyed by an insufferable stench proceeding from the\nmultitude of bodies which I saw on the right and left; nay, I\nfancied that I heard some of them sigh out their last. However,\nwhen I got down, I immediately left my coffin, and getting at a\ndistance from the bodies, held my nose, and lay down upon the\nground, where I stayed a considerable time, bathed in tears. At\nlast, reflecting on my melancholy case, \"It is true,\" said I,\n\"that God disposes all things according to the degrees of his\nprovidence; but, unhappy Sinbad, hast thou any but thyself to\nblame that thou art brought to die so strange a death? Would to\nGod thou hadst perished in some of those tempests which thou hast\nescaped! then thy death had not been so lingering, and so\nterrible in all its circumstances. But thou hast drawn all this\nupon thyself by thy inordinate avarice. Ah, unfortunate wretch!\nshouldst thou not rather have remained at home, and quietly\nenjoyed the fruits of thy labour?\"\n\nSuch were the vain complaints with which I filled the cave,\nbeating my head and breast out of rage and despair, and\nabandoning myself to the most afflicting thoughts. Nevertheless,\nI must tell you, that instead of calling death to my assistance\nin that miserable condition, I felt still an inclination to live,\nand to do all I could to prolong my days. I went groping about,\nwith my nose stopped, for the bread and water that was in my\ncoffin, and took some of it. Though the darkness of the cave was\nso great that I could not distinguish day and night, yet I always\nfound my coffin again, and the cave seemed to be more spacious\nand fuller of bodies than it had appeared to be at first. I lived\nfor some days upon my bread and water, which being all spent, I\nat last prepared for death.\n\nAs I was thinking of death, I heard the stone lifted up from the\nmouth of the cave, and immediately the corpse of a man was let\ndown When reduced to necessity, it is natural to come to extreme\nresolutions. While they let down the woman I approached the place\nwhere her coffin was to be put, and as soon as I perceived they\nwere again covering the mouth of the cave, gave the unfortunate\nwretch two or three violent blows over the head, with a large\nbone; which stunned, or, to say the truth, killed her. I\ncommitted this inhuman action merely for the sake of the bread\nand water that was in her coffin, and thus I had provision for\nsome days more. When that was spent, they letdown another dead\nwoman, and a living man; I killed the man in the same manner,\nand, as there was then a sort of mortality in the town, by\ncontinuing this practice I did not want for provisions.\n\nOne day after I had dispatched another woman, I heard something\ntread, and breathing or panting as it walked. I advanced towards\nthat side from whence I heard the noise, and on my approach the\ncreature puffed and blew harder, as if running away from me. I\nfollowed the noise, and the thing seemed to stop sometimes, but\nalways fled and blew as I approached. I pursued it for a\nconsiderable time, till at last I perceived a light, resembling a\nstar; I went on, sometimes lost sight of it, but always found it\nagain, and at last discovered that it came through a hole in the\nrock, large enough to admit a man.\n\nUpon this, I stopped some time to rest, being much fatigued with\nthe rapidity of my progress: afterwards coming up to the hole, I\ngot through, and found myself upon the sea shore. I leave you to\nguess the excess of my joy: it was such, that I could scarcely\npersuade myself that the whole was not a dream.\n\nBut when I was recovered from my surprise, and convinced of the\nreality of my escape, I perceived what I had followed to be a\ncreature which came out of the sea, and was accustomed to enter\nthe cavern and feed upon the bodies of the dead.\n\nI examined the mountain, and found it to be situated betwixt the\nsea and the town, but without any passage to or communication\nwith the latter; the rocks on the sea side being high and\nperpendicularly steep. I prostrated myself on the shore to thank\nGod for this mercy, and afterwards entered the cave again to\nfetch bread and water, which I ate by daylight with a better\nappetite than I had done since my interment in the dark cavern.\n\nI returned thither a second time, and groped among the coffins\nfor all the diamonds, rubies, pearls, gold bracelets, and rich\nstuffs I could find; these I brought to the shore, and tying them\nup neatly into bales, with the cords that let down the coffins, I\nlaid them together upon the beach, waiting till some ship might\nappear, without fear of rain, for it was then the dry season.\n\nAfter two or three days, I perceived a ship just come out of the\nharbour, making for the place where I was. I made a sign with the\nlinen of my turban, and called to the crew as loud as I could.\nThey heard me, and sent a boat to bring me on board, when they\nasked by what misfortune I came thither; I told them that I had\nsuffered shipwreck two days before, and made shift to get ashore\nwith the goods they saw. It was fortunate for me that these\npeople did not consider the place where I was, nor enquire into\nthe probability of what I told them; but without hesitation took\nme on board with my goods. When I came to the ship, the captain\nwas so well pleased to have saved me, and so much taken up with\nhis own affairs, that he also took the story of my pretended\nshipwreck upon trust, and generously refused some jewels which I\noffered him.\n\nWe passed by several islands, and among others that called the\nisle of Bells, about ten days' sail from Serendib, with a regular\nwind, and six from that of Kela, where we landed. This island\nproduces lead mines, Indian canes, and excellent camphire.\n\nThe king of the isle of Kela is very rich and powerful, and the\nisle of Bells, which is about two days journey in extent, is also\nsubject to him. The inhabitants are so barbarous that they still\neat human flesh. After we had finished our traffic in that\nisland, we put to sea again, and touched at several other ports;\nat last I arrived happily at Bagdad with infinite riches, of\nwhich it is needless to trouble you with the detail. Out of\ngratitude to God for his mercies, I contributed liberally towards\nthe support of several mosques, and the subsistence of the poor,\ngave myself up to the society of my kindred and friends, enjoying\nmyself with them in festivities and amusements.\n\nHere Sinbad finished the relation of his fourth voyage, which\nappeared more surprising to the company than the three former. He\nmade a new present of one hundred sequins to Hindbad, whom he\nrequested to return with the rest next day at the same hour to\ndine with him, and hear the story of his fifth voyage. Hindbad\nand the other guests took their leave and retired. Next morning\nwhen they all met, they sat down at table, and when dinner was\nover, Sinbad began the relation of his fifth voyage as follows.\n\n\n\n\n                       The Fifth Voyage.\n\n\n\nThe pleasures I enjoyed had again charms enough to make me forget\nall the troubles and calamities I had undergone, but could not\ncure me of my inclination to make new voyages. I therefore bought\ngoods, departed with them for the best sea-port; and there, that\nI might not be obliged to depend upon a captain, but have a ship\nat my own command, I remained till one was built on purpose, at\nmy own charge. When the ship was ready, I went on board with my\ngoods; but not having enough to load her, I agreed to take with\nme several merchants of different nations with their merchandize.\n\nWe sailed with the first fair wind, and after a long navigation\nthe first place we touched at was a desert island, where we found\nan egg of a roe, equal in size to that I formerly mentioned.\nThere was a young roc it just ready to be hatched, and its bill\nhad begun to appear.\n\nThe merchants whom I had taken on board, and who landed with me,\nbroke the egg with hatchets, and made a hole in it, pulled out\nthe young roc piecemeal, and roasted it. I had earnestly\nintreated them not to meddle with the egg, but they would not\nlisten to me.\n\nScarcely had they finished their repast, when there appeared in\nthe air at a considerable distance from us two great clouds. The\ncaptain whom I had hired to navigate my ship, knowing by\nexperience what they meant, said they were the male and female\nroc that belonged to the young one, and pressed us to re-embark\nwith all speed, to prevent the misfortune which he saw would\notherwise befall us. We hastened on board, and set sail with all\npossible expedition.\n\nIn the mean time, the two roes approached with a frightful noise,\nwhich they redoubled when they saw the egg broken, and their\nyoung one gone. They flew back in the direction they had come,\nand disappeared for some time, while we made all the sail we\ncould to endeavour to prevent that which unhappily befell us.\n\nThey soon returned, and we observed that each of them carried between\nits talons stones, or rather rocks, of a monstrous size. When they\ncame directly over my ship, they hovered, and one of them let fall a\nstone, but by the dexterity of the steersman it missed us, and falling\ninto the sea, divided the water so that we could almost see the\nbottom. The other roe, to our misfortune, threw his messy burden so\nexactly upon the middle of the ship, as to split it into a thousand\npieces. The mariners and passengers were all crushed to death, or\nsunk. I myself was of the number of the latter; but as I came up\nagain, I fortunately caught hold of a piece of the wreck, and swimming\nsometimes with one hand, and sometimes with the other, but always\nholding fast my board, the wind and the tide favouring me, I came to\nan island, whose shore was very steep. I overcame that difficulty,\nhowever, and got ashore.\n\nI sat down upon the grass, to recover myself from my fatigue,\nafter which I went into the island to explore it. It seemed to be\na delicious garden. I found trees everywhere, some of them\nbearing green, and others ripe fruits, and streams of fresh pure\nwater running in pleasant meanders. I ate of the fruits, which I\nfound excellent; and drank of the water, which was very light and\ngood.\n\nWhen night closed in, I lay down upon the grass in a convenient\nspot, but could not sleep an hour at a time, my mind being\napprehensive of danger. I spent best part of the night in alarm,\nand reproached myself for my imprudence in not remaining at home,\nrather than undertaking this last voyage. These reflections\ncarried me so far, that I began to form a design against my life;\nbut daylight dispersed these melancholy thoughts. I got up, and\nwalked among the trees, but not without some fears.\n\nWhen I was a little advanced into the island, I saw an old man,\nwho appeared very weak and infirm. He was sitting on the bank of\na stream, and at first I took him to be one who had been\nshipwrecked like myself. I went towards him and saluted him, but\nhe only slightly bowed his head. I asked him why he sat so still,\nbut instead of answering me, he made a sign for me to take him\nupon my back, and carry him over the brook, signifying that it\nwas to gather fruit.\n\nI believed him really to stand in need of my assistance, took him\nupon my back, and having carried him over, bade him get down, and\nfor that end stooped, that he might get off with ease; but\ninstead of doing so (which I laugh at every time I think of it)\nthe old man, who to me appeared quite decrepit, clasped his legs\nnimbly about my neck, when I perceived his skin to resemble that\nof a cow. He sat astride upon my shoulders, and held my throat so\ntight, that I thought he would have strangled me, the\napprehension of which make me swoon and fall down.\n\nNotwithstanding my fainting, the ill-natured old fellow kept fast\nabout my neck, but opened his legs a little to give me time to\nrecover my breath. When I had done so, he thrust one of his feet\nagainst my stomach, and struck me so rudely on the side with the\nother, that he forced me to rise up against my will. Having\narisen, he made me walk under the trees, and forced me now and\nthen to stop, to gather and eat fruit such as we found. He never\nleft me all day, and when I lay down to rest at night, laid\nhimself down with me, holding always fast about my neck. Every\nmorning he pushed me to make me awake, and afterwards obliged me\nto get up and walk, and pressed me with his feet. You may judge\nthen, gentlemen, what trouble I was in, to be loaded with such a\nburden of which I could not get rid.\n\nOne day I found in my way several dry calebashes that had fallen\nfrom a tree. I took a large one, and after cleaning it, pressed\ninto it some juice of grapes, which abounded in the island;\nhaving filled the calebash, I put it by in a convenient place,\nand going thither again some days after, I tasted it, and found\nthe wine so good, that it soon made me forget my sorrow, gave me\nnew vigour, and so exhilarated my spirits, that I began to sing\nand dance as I walked along.\n\nThe old man, perceiving the effect which this liquor had upon me,\nand that I carried him with more ease than before, made me a sign\nto give him some of it. I handed him the calebash, and the liquor\npleasing his palate, he drank it all off. There being a\nconsiderable quantity of it, he became drunk immediately, and the\nfumes getting up into his head, he began to sing after his\nmanner, and to dance with his breech upon my shoulders. His\njolting made him vomit, and he loosened his legs from about me by\ndegrees. Finding that he did not press me as before, I threw him\nupon the ground, where he lay without motion; I then took up a\ngreat stone, and crushed his head to pieces.\n\nI was extremely glad to be thus freed for ever from this\ntroublesome fellow. I now walked towards the beach, where I met\nthe crew of a ship that had cast anchor, to take in water. They\nwere surprised to see me, but more so at hearing the particulars\nof my adventures. \"You fell,\" said they, \"into the hands of the\nold man of the sea, and are the first who ever escaped strangling\nby his malicious tricks. He never quitted those he had once made\nhimself master of, till he had destroyed them, and he has made\nthis island notorious by the number of men he has slain; so that\nthe merchants and mariners who landed upon it, durst not advance\ninto the island but in numbers at a time.\"\n\nAfter having informed me of these things, they carried me with\nthem to the ship; the captain received me with great kindness,\nwhen they told him what had befallen me. He put out again to sea,\nand after some days' sail, we arrived at the harbour of a great\ncity, the houses of which were built with hewn stone.\n\nOne of the merchants who had taken me into his friendship invited\nme to go along with him, and carried me to a place appointed for\nthe accommodation of foreign merchants. He gave me a large bag,\nand having recommended me to some people of the town, who used to\ngather cocoa-nuts, desired them to take me with them. \"Go,\" said\nhe, \"follow them, and act as you see them do, but do not separate\nfrom them, otherwise you may endanger your life.\" Having thus\nspoken, he gave me provisions for the journey, and I went with\nthem.\n\nWe came to a thick forest of cocoa-trees, very lofty, with trunks\nso smooth that it was not possible to climb to the branches that\nbore the fruit. When we entered the forest we saw a great number\nof apes of several sizes, who fled as soon as they perceived us,\nand climbed up to the top of the trees with surprising swiftness.\n\nThe merchants with whom I was, gathered stones and threw them at\nthe apes on the trees. I did the same, and the apes out of\nrevenge threw cocoa-nuts at us so fast, and with such gestures,\nas sufficiently testified their anger and resentment. We gathered\nup the cocoa-nuts, and from time to time threw stones to provoke\nthe apes; so that by this stratagem we filled our bags with\ncocoa-nuts, which it had been impossible otherwise to have done.\n\nWhen we had gathered our number, we returned to the city, where\nthe merchant, who had sent me to the forest, gave me the value of\nthe cocoas I brought: \"Go on,\" said he, \"and do the like every\nday, until you have got money enough to carry you home.\" I\nthanked him for his advice, and gradually collected as many\ncocoa-nuts as produced me a considerable sum.\n\nThe vessel in which I had come sailed with some merchants, who\nloaded her with cocoa-nuts. I expected the arrival of another,\nwhich anchored soon after for the like loading. I embarked in her\nall the cocoa-nuts I had, and when she was ready to sail, took\nleave of the merchant who had been so kind to me; but he could\nnot embark with me, because he had not finished his business at\nthe port.\n\nWe sailed towards the islands, where pepper grows in great\nplenty. From thence we went to the isle of Comari, where the best\nspecies of wood of aloes grows, and whose inhabitants have made\nit an inviolable law to themselves to drink no wine, and suffer\nno place of debauch. I exchanged my cocoa in those two islands\nfor pepper and wood of aloes, and went with other merchants a\npearl-fishing. I hired divers, who brought me up some that were\nvery large and pure. I embarked in a vessel that happily arrived\nat Bussorah; from thence I returned to Bagdad, where I made vast\nsums of my pepper, wood of aloes, and pearls. I gave the tenth of\nmy gains in alms, as I had done upon my return from my other\nvoyages, and endeavoured to dissipate my fatigues by amusements\nof different kinds.\n\nWhen Sinbad had finished his story, he ordered one hundred\nsequins to be given to Hindbad, who retired with the other\nguests; but next morning the same company returned to dine with\nrich Sinbad; who, after having treated them as formerly,\nrequested their attention, and gave the following account of his\nsixth voyage.\n\n\n\n\n                       The Sixth Voyage.\n\n\n\nGentlemen, you long without doubt to know, how, after having been\nshipwrecked five times, and escaped so many dangers, I could\nresolve again to tempt fortune, and expose myself to new\nhardships? I am, myself, astonished at my conduct when I reflect\nupon it, and must certainly have been actuated by my destiny. But\nbe that as it may, after a year's rest I prepared for a sixth\nvoyage, notwithstanding the intreaties of my kindred and friends,\nwho did all in their power to dissuade me.\n\nInstead of taking my way by the Persian gulf, I travelled once\nmore through several provinces of Persia and the Indies, and\narrived at a sea-port, where I embarked in a ship, the captain of\nwhich was bound on a long voyage. It was long indeed, and at the\nsame time so unfortunate, that the captain and pilot lost their\ncourse. They however at last discovered where they were, but we\nhad no reason to rejoice at the circumstance. Suddenly we saw the\ncaptain quit his post, uttering loud lamentations. He threw off\nhis turban, pulled his beard, and beat his head like a madman. We\nasked him the reason, and he answered, that he was in the most\ndangerous place in all the ocean. \"A rapid current carries the\nship along with it, and we shall all perish in less than a\nquarter of an hour. Pray to God to deliver us from this peril; we\ncannot escape, if he do not take pity on us.\" At these words he\nordered the sails to be lowered; but all the ropes broke, and the\nship was carried by the current to the foot of an inaccessible\nmountain, where she struck and went to pieces, yet in such a\nmanner that we saved our lives, our provisions, and the best of\nour goods.\n\nThis being over, the captain said to us, \"God has done what\npleased him. Each of us may dig his grave, and bid the world\nadieu; for we are all in so fatal a place, that none shipwrecked\nhere ever returned to their homes.\" His discourse afflicted us\nsensibly, and we embraced each other, bewailing our deplorable\nlot.\n\nThe mountain at the foot of which we were wrecked formed part of\nthe coast of a very large island. It was covered with wrecks, and\nfrom the vast number of human bones we saw everywhere, and which\nfilled us with horror, we concluded that multitudes of people had\nperished there. It is also incredible what a quantity of goods\nand riches we found cast ashore. All these objects served only to\naugment our despair. In all other places, rivers run from their\nchannels into the sea, but here a river of fresh water runs out\nof the sea into a dark cavern, whose entrance is very high and\nspacious. What is most remarkable in this place is, that the\nstones of the mountain are of crystal, rubies, or other precious\nstones. Here is also a sort of fountain of pitch or bitumen, that\nruns into the sea, which the fish swallow, and evacuate soon\nafterwards, turned into ambergris: and this the waves throw up on\nthe beach in great quantities. Trees also grow here, most of\nwhich are wood of aloes, equal in goodness to those of Comari.\n\nTo finish the description of this place, which may well be called\na gulf, since nothing ever returns from it, it is not possible\nfor ships to get off when once they approach within a certain\ndistance. If they be driven thither by a wind from the sea, the\nwind and the current impel them; and if they come into it when a\nland-wind blows, which might seem to favour their getting out\nagain, the height of the mountain stops the wind, and occasions a\ncalm, so that the force of the current carries them ashore: and\nwhat completes the misfortune is, that there is no possibility of\nascending the mountain, or of escaping by sea.\n\nWe continued upon the shore in a state of despair, and expected\ndeath every day. At first we divided our provisions as equally as\nwe could, and thus every one lived a longer or shorter time,\naccording to his temperance, and the use he made of his\nprovisions.\n\nThose who died first were interred by the survivors, and I paid\nthe last duty to all my companions: nor are you to wonder at\nthis; for besides that I husbanded the provision that fell to my\nshare better than they, I had some of my own which I did not\nshare with my comrades; yet when I buried the last, I had so\nlittle remaining, that I thought I could not long survive: I dug\na grave, resolving to lie down in it, because there was no one\nleft to inter me. I must confess to you at the same time, that\nwhile I was thus employed, I could not but reproach myself as the\ncause of my own ruin, and repented that I had ever undertaken\nthis last voyage. Nor did I stop at reflections only, but had\nwell nigh hastened my own death, and began to tear my hands with\nmy teeth.\n\nBut it pleased God once more to take compassion on me, and put it\nin my mind to go to the bank of the river which ran into the\ngreat cavern. Considering its probable course with great\nattention, I said to myself, \"This river, which runs thus under\nground, must somewhere have an issue. If I make a raft, and leave\nmyself to the current, it will convey me to some inhabited\ncountry, or I shall perish. If I be drowned, I lose nothing, but\nonly change one kind of death for another; and if I get out of\nthis fatal place, I shall not only avoid the sad fate of my\ncomrades, but perhaps find some new occasion of enriching myself.\nWho knows but fortune waits, upon my getting off this dangerous\nshelf, to compensate my shipwreck with usury.\"\n\nI immediately went to work upon large pieces of timber and\ncables, for I had choice of them, and tied them together so\nstrongly, that I soon made a very solid raft. When I had\nfinished, I loaded it with some bulses of rubies, emeralds,\nambergris, rock-crystal, and bales of rich stuffs. Having\nbalanced my cargo exactly, and fastened it well to the raft, I\nwent on board with two oars that I had made, and leaving it to\nthe course of the river, resigned myself to the will of God.\n\nAs soon as I entered the cavern, I lost all light, and the stream\ncarried me I knew not whither. Thus I floated some days in\nperfect darkness, and once found the arch so low, that it very\nnearly touched my head, which made me cautious afterwards to\navoid the like danger. All this while I ate nothing but what was\njust necessary to support nature; yet, notwithstanding my\nfrugality, all my provisions were spent. Then a pleasing stupor\nseized upon me. I cannot tell how long it continued; but when I\nrevived, I was surprised to find myself in an extensive plain on\nthe brink of a river, where my raft was tied, amidst a great\nnumber of negroes. I got up as soon as I saw them, and saluted\nthem. They spoke to me, but I did not understand their language.\nI was so transported with joy, that I knew not whether I was\nasleep or awake; but being persuaded that I was not asleep, I\nrecited the following words in Arabic aloud: \"Call upon the\nAlmighty, he will help thee; thou needest not perplex thyself\nabout any thing else: shut thy eyes, and while thou art asleep,\nGod will change thy bad fortune into good.\"\n\nOne of the blacks, who understood Arabic, hearing me speak thus,\ncame towards me, and said, \"Brother, be not surprised to see us,\nwe are inhabitants of this country, and came hither to-day to\nwater our fields, by digging little canals from this river, which\ncomes out of the neighbouring mountain. We observed something\nfloating upon the water, went to see what it was, and, perceiving\nyour raft, one of us swam into the river, and brought it thither,\nwhere we fastened it, as you see, until you should awake. Pray\ntell us your history, for it must be extraordinary; how did you\nventure yourself into this river, and whence did you come?\" \"I\nbegged of them first to give me something to eat, and then I\nwould satisfy their curiosity. They gave me several sorts of\nfood, and when I had satisfied my hunger, I related all that had\nbefallen me, which they listened to with attentive surprise. As\nsoon as I had finished, they told me, by the person who spoke\nArabic and interpreted to them what I said, that it was one of\nthe most wonderful stories they had ever heard, and that I must\ngo along with them, and tell it their king myself; it being too\nextraordinary to be related by any other than the person to whom\nthe events had happened. I assured them that I was ready to do\nwhatever they pleased.\"\n\nThey immediately sent for a horse, which was brought in a little\ntime; and having helped me to mount, some of them walked before\nto shew the way, while the rest took my raft and cargo and\nfollowed.\n\nWe marched till we came to the capital of Serendib, for it was in\nthat island I had landed. The blacks presented me to their king;\nI approached his throne, and saluted him as I used to do the\nkings of the Indies; that is to say, I prostrated myself at his\nfeet. The prince ordered me to rise, received me with an obliging\nair, and made me sit down near him. He first asked me my name,\nand I answered, \"People call me Sinbad the voyager, because of\nthe many voyages I have undertaken, and I am a citizen of\nBagdad.\" \"But,\" resumed he, \"how came you into my dominions, and\nfrom whence came you last?\"\n\nI concealed nothing from the king; I related to him all that I\nhave told you, and his majesty was so surprised and pleased, that\nhe commanded my adventures to be written in letters of gold, and\nlaid up in the archives of his kingdom. At last my raft was\nbrought in, and the bales opened in his presence; he admired the\nquantity of wood of aloes and ambergris, but, above all, the\nrubies and emeralds, for he had none in his treasury that\nequalled them.\n\nObserving that he looked on my jewels with pleasure, and viewed\nthe most remarkable among them one after another, I fell\nprostrate at his feet, and took the liberty to say to him, \"Sir,\nnot only my person is at your majesty's service, but the cargo of\nthe raft, and I would beg of you to dispose of it as your own.\"\nHe answered me with a smile, \"Sinbad, I will take care not to\ncovet any thing of yours, or to take any thing from you that God\nhas given you; far from lessening your wealth, I design to\naugment it, and will not let you quit my dominions without marks\nof my liberality.\" All the answer I returned were prayers for the\nprosperity of that nobly minded prince, and commendations of his\ngenerosity and bounty. He charged one of his officers to take\ncare of me, and ordered people to serve me at his own expence.\nThe officer was very faithful in the execution of his commission,\nand caused all the goods to be carried to the lodgings provided\nfor me.\n\nI went every day at a set hour to make my court to the king, and\nspent the rest of my time in viewing the city, and what was most\nworthy of notice.\n\nThe isle of Serendib is situated just under the equinoctial line;\nso that the days and nights there are always of twelve hours\neach, and the island is eighty parasangs in length, and as many\nin breadth.\n\nThe capital stands at the end of a fine valley, in the middle of\nthe island, encompassed by mountains the highest in the world.\nThey are seen three days' sail off at sea. Rubies and several\nsorts of minerals abound, and the rocks are for the most part\ncomposed of a metalline stone made use of to cut and polish other\nprecious stones. All kinds of rare plants and trees grow there,\nespecially cedars and cocoa-nut. There is also a pearl-fishing in\nthe mouth of its principal river; and in some of its valleys are\nfound diamonds. I made, by way of devotion, a pilgrimage to the\nplace where Adam was confined after his banishment from Paradise,\nand had the curiosity to go to the top of the mountain.\n\nWhen I returned to the city, I prayed the king to allow me to\nreturn to my own country, and he granted me permission in the\nmost obliging and most honourable manner. He would needs force a\nrich present upon me; and when I went to take my leave of him, he\ngave me one much more considerable, and at the same time charged\nme with a letter for the commander of the faithful, our\nsovereign, saying to me, \"I pray you give this present from me,\nand this letter to the caliph, and assure him of my friendship.\"\nI took the present and letter in a very respectful manner, and\npromised his majesty punctually to execute the commission with\nwhich he was pleased to honour me. Before I embarked, this prince\nsent for the captain and the merchants who were to go with me,\nand ordered them to treat me with all possible respect.\n\nThe letter from the king of Serendib was written on the skin of a\ncertain animal of great value, because of its being so scarce,\nand of a yellowish colour. The characters of this letter were of\nazure, and the contents as follows:\n\n\"The king of the Indies, before whom march one hundred elephants,\nwho lives in a palace that shines with one hundred thousand\nrubies, and who has in his treasury twenty thousand crowns\nenriched with diamonds, to caliph Haroon al Rusheed.\n\n\"Though the present we send you be inconsiderable, receive it\nhowever as a brother and a friend, in consideration of the hearty\nfriendship which we bear for you, and of which we are willing to\ngive you proof. We desire the same part in your friendship,\nconsidering that we believe it to be our merit, being of the same\ndignity with yourself. We conjure you this in quality of a\nbrother. Adieu.\"\n\nThe present consisted first, of one single ruby made into a cup,\nabout half a foot high, an inch thick, and filled with round\npearls of half a drachm each. 2. The skin of a serpent, whose\nscales were as large as an ordinary piece of gold, and had the\nvirtue to preserve from sickness those who lay upon it. 3. Fifty\nthousand drachms of the best wood of aloes, with thirty grains of\ncamphire as big as pistachios. 4. A female slave of ravishing\nbeauty, whose apparel was all covered over with jewels.\n\nThe ship set sail, and after a very successful navigation we\nlanded at Bussorah, and from thence I went to Bagdad, where the\nfirst thing I did was to acquit myself of my commission.\n\nScheherazade stopped, because day appeared, and next night\nproceeded thus.\n\nI took the king of Serendib's letter, and went to present myself\nat the gate of the commander of the faithful, followed by the\nbeautiful slave, and such of my own family as carried the\npresents. I stated the reason of my coming, and was immediately\nconducted to the throne of the caliph. I made my reverence, and,\nafter a short speech, gave him the letter and present. When he\nhad read what the king of Serendib wrote to him, he asked me, if\nthat prince were really so rich and potent as he represented\nhimself in his letter? I prostrated myself a second time, and\nrising again, said, \"Commander of the faithful, I can assure your\nmajesty he doth not exceed the truth. I bear him witness. Nothing\nis more worthy of admiration than the magnificence of his palace.\nWhen the prince appears in public, he has a throne fixed on the\nback of an elephant, and marches betwixt two ranks of his\nministers, favourites, and other people of his court; before him,\nupon the same elephant, an officer carries a golden lance in his\nhand; and behind the throne there is another, who stands upright,\nwith a column of gold, on the top of which is an emerald half a\nfoot long, and an inch thick; before him march a guard of one\nthousand men, clad in cloth of gold and silk, and mounted on\nelephants richly caparisoned.\n\n\"While the king is on his march, the officer, who is before him on the\nsame elephant, cries from time to time, with a loud voice, 'Behold the\ngreat monarch, the potent and redoubtable sultan of the Indies, whose\npalace is covered with one hundred thousand rubies, and who possesses\ntwenty thousand crowns of diamonds. Behold the monarch greater than\nSolomon, and the powerful Maha-raja.' After he has pronounced those\nwords, the officer behind the throne cries in his turn, 'This monarch,\nso great and so powerful, must die, must die, must die.' And the\nofficer before replies, 'Praise be to him who lives for ever.'\n\n\"Farther, the king of Serendib is so just, that there are no\njudges in his dominions. His people have no need of them. They\nunderstand and observe justice rigidly of themselves.\"\n\nThe caliph was much pleased with my account. \"The wisdom of that\nking,\" said he, \"appears in his letter, and after what you tell\nme, I must confess, that his wisdom is worthy of his people, and\nhis people deserve so wise a prince.\" Having spoken thus, he\ndismissed me, and sent me home with a rich present.\n\nSinbad left off, and his company retired, Hindbad having first\nreceived one hundred sequins; and next day they returned to hear\nthe relation of his seventh and last voyage.\n\n\n\n\n                  The Seventh and Last Voyage.\n\n\n\nBeing returned from my sixth voyage, said Sinbad, I absolutely\nlaid aside all thoughts of travelling; for, besides that my age\nnow required rest, I was resolved no more to expose myself to\nsuch risks as I had encountered; so that I thought of nothing but\nto pass the rest of my days in tranquillity. One day as I was\ntreating my friends, one of my servants came and told me that an\nofficer of the caliph's enquired for me. I rose from table, and\nwent to him. \"The caliph,\" he said, \"has sent me to tell you,\nthat he must speak with you.\" I followed the officer to the\npalace, where being presented to the caliph, I saluted him by\nprostrating myself at his feet. \"Sinbad,\" said he to me, \"I stand\nin need of your service; you must carry my answer and present to\nthe king of Serendib. It is but just I should return his\ncivility.\"\n\nThis command of the caliph was to me like a clap of thunder.\n\"Commander of the faithful,\" I replied, \"I am ready to do\nwhatever your majesty shall think fit to command; but I beseech\nyou most humbly to consider what I have undergone. I have also\nmade a vow never to go out of Bagdad.\" Hence I took occasion to\ngive him a full and particular account of all my adventures,\nwhich he had the patience to hear out.\n\nAs soon as I had finished, \"I confess,\" said he, \"that the things\nyou tell me are very extraordinary, yet you must for my sake\nundertake this voyage which I propose to you. You will only have\nto go to the isle of Serendib, and deliver the commission which I\ngive you. After that you are at liberty to return. But you must\ngo; for you know it would not comport with my dignity, to be\nindebted to the king of that island.\" Perceiving that the caliph\ninsisted upon my compliance, I submitted, and told him that I was\nwilling to obey. He was very well pleased, and ordered me one\nthousand sequins for the expences of my journey.\n\nI prepared for my departure in a few days, and as soon as the\ncaliph's letter and present were delivered to me, I went to\nBussorah, where I embarked, and had a very happy voyage. Having\narrived at the isle of Serendib, I acquainted the king's\nministers with my commission, and prayed them to get me speedy\naudience. They did so, and I was conducted to the palace in an\nhonourable manner, where I saluted the king by prostration,\naccording to custom. That prince knew me immediately, and\ntestified very great joy at seeing me. \"Sinbad,\" said he, \"you\nare welcome; I have many times thought of you since you departed;\nI bless the day on which we see one another once more.\" I made my\ncompliment to him, and after having thanked him for his kindness,\ndelivered the caliph's letter and present, which he received with\nall imaginable satisfaction.\n\nThe caliph's present was a complete suit of cloth of gold, valued\nat one thousand sequins; fifty robes of rich stuff, a hundred of\nwhite cloth, the finest of Cairo, Suez, and Alexandria; a vessel\nof agate broader than deep, an inch thick, and half a foot wide,\nthe bottom of which represented in bass relief a man with one\nknee on the ground, who held bow and an arrow, ready to discharge\nat a lion. He sent him also a rich tablet, which, according to\ntradition, belonged to the great Solomon. The caliph's letter was\nas follows:\n\n\"Greeting, in the name of the sovereign guide of the right way,\nfrom the dependent on God, Haroon al Rusheed, whom God hath set\nin the place of vicegerent to his prophet, after his ancestors of\nhappy memory, to the potent and esteemed Raja of Serendib.\n\n\"We received your letter with joy, and send you this from our\nimperial residence, the garden of superior wits. We hope when you\nlook upon it, you will perceive our good intention and be pleased\nwith it. Adieu.\"\n\nThe king of Serendib was highly gratified that the caliph\nanswered his friendship. A little time after this audience, I\nsolicited leave to depart, and had much difficulty to obtain it.\nI procured it however at last, and the king, when he dismissed\nme, made me a very considerable present. I embarked immediately\nto return to Bagdad, but had not the good fortune to arrive there\nso speedily as I had hoped. God ordered it otherwise.\n\nThree or four days after my departure, we were attacked by\ncorsairs, who easily seized upon our ship, because it was no\nvessel of force. Some of the crew offered resistance, which cost\nthem their lives. But for myself and the rest, who were not so\nimprudent, the corsairs saved us on purpose to make slaves of us.\n\nWe were all stripped, and instead of our own clothes, they gave\nus sorry rags, and carried us into a remote island, where they\nsold us.\n\nI fell into the hands of a rich merchant, who, as soon as he\nbought me, carried me to his house, treated me well, and clad me\nhandsomely for a slave. Some days after, not knowing who I was,\nhe asked me if I understood any trade? I answered, that I was no\nmechanic, but a merchant, and that the corsairs, who sold me, had\nrobbed me of all I possessed. \"But tell me,\" replied he, \"can you\nshoot with a bow?\" I answered, that the bow was one of my\nexercises in my youth. He gave me a bow and arrows, and, taking\nme behind him upon an elephant, carried me to a thick forest some\nleagues from the town. We penetrated a great way into the wood,\nand when he thought fit to stop, he bade me alight; then shewing\nme a great tree, \"Climb up that,\" said he, \"and shoot at the\nelephants as you see them pass by, for there is a prodigious\nnumber of them in this forest, and if any of them fall, come and\ngive me notice.\" Having spoken thus, he left me victuals, and\nreturned to the town, and I continued upon the tree all night.\n\nI saw no elephant during that time, but next morning, as soon as\nthe sun was up, I perceived a great number. I shot several arrows\namong them, and at last one of the elephants fell, when the rest\nretired immediately, and left me at liberty to go and acquaint my\npatron with my booty. When I had informed him, he gave me a good\nmeal, commended my dexterity, and caressed me highly. We went\nafterwards together to the forest, where we dug a hole for the\nelephant; my patron designing to return when it was rotten, and\ntake his teeth to trade with.\n\nI continued this employment for two months, and killed an\nelephant every day, getting sometimes upon one tree, and\nsometimes upon another. One morning, as I looked for the\nelephants, I perceived with extreme amazement, that, instead of\npassing by me across the forest as usual, they stopped, and came\nto me with a horrible noise, in such number that the plain was\ncovered, and shook under them. They encompassed the tree in which\nI was concealed, with their trunks extended, and all fixed their\neyes upon. At this alarming spectacle I continued immoveable, and\nwas so much terrified, that my bow and arrows fell out of my\nhand.\n\nMy fears were not without cause; for after the elephants had\nstared upon me some time, one of the largest of them put his\ntrunk round the foot of the tree, plucked it up, and threw it on\nthe ground; I fell with the tree, and the elephant taking me up\nwith his trunk, laid me on his back, where I sat more like one\ndead than alive, with my quiver on my shoulder. He put himself\nafterwards at the head of the rest, who followed him in troops,\ncarried me a considerable way, then laid me down on the ground,\nand retired with all his companions. Conceive, if you can, the\ncondition I was in: I thought myself in a dream. After having\nlain some time, and seeing the elephants gone, I got up, and\nfound I was upon a long and broad hill, almost covered with the\nbones and teeth of elephants. I confess to you, that this object\nfurnished me with abundance of reflections. I admired the\ninstinct of those animals; I doubted not but that was their\nburying place, and that they carried me thither on purpose to\ntell me that I should forbear to persecute them, since I did it\nonly for their teeth. I did not stay on the hill, but turned\ntowards the city, and, after having travelled a day and a night,\nI came to my patron. I met no elephant in my way, which made me\nthink they had retired farther into the forest, to leave me at\nliberty to come back to the hill without any obstacle.\n\nAs soon as my patron saw me; \"Ah, poor Sinbad,\" exclaimed he, \"I\nwas in great trouble to know what was become of you. I have been\nat the forest, where I found a tree newly pulled up, and a bow\nand arrows on the ground, and after having sought for you in\nvain, I despaired of ever, seeing you more. Pray tell me what\nbefell you, and by what good chance thou art still alive.\" I\nsatisfied his curiosity, and going both of us next morning to the\nhill, he found to his great joy that what I had told him was\ntrue. We loaded the elephant which had carried us with as many\nteeth as he could bear; and when we were returned, \"Brother,\"\nsaid my patron, \"for I will treat you no more as my slave, after\nhaving made such a discovery as will enrich me, God bless you\nwith all happiness and prosperity. I declare before him, that I\ngive you your liberty. I concealed from you what I am now going\nto tell you.\n\n\"The elephants of our forest have every year killed us a great\nmany slaves, whom we sent to seek ivory. For all the cautions we\ncould give them, those crafty animals destroyed them one time or\nother. God has delivered you from their fury, and has bestowed\nthat favour upon you only. It is a sign that he loves you, and\nhas some use for your service in the world. You have procured me\nincredible wealth. Formerly we could not procure ivory but by\nexposing the lives of our slaves, and now our whole city is\nenriched by your means. Do not think I pretend to have rewarded\nyou by giving you your liberty, I will also give you considerable\nriches. I could engage all our city to contribute towards making\nyour fortune, but I will have the glory of doing it myself.\"\n\nTo this obliging declaration I replied, \"Patron, God preserve\nyou. Your giving me my liberty is enough to discharge what you\nowe me, and I desire no other reward for the service I had the\ngood fortune to do to you and your city, but leave to return to\nmy own country.\" \"Very well,\" said he, \"the monsoon will in a\nlittle time bring ships for ivory. I will then send you home, and\ngive you wherewith to bear your charges.\" I thanked him again for\nmy liberty and his good intentions towards me. I staid with him\nexpecting the monsoon; and during that time, we made so many\njourneys to the hill, that we filled all our warehouses with\nivory. The other merchants, who traded in it, did the same, for\nit could not be long concealed from them.\n\nThe ships arrived at last, and my patron, himself having made\nchoice of the ship wherein I was to embark, loaded half of it\nwith ivory on my account, laid in provisions in abundance for my\npassage, and besides obliged me to accept a present of some\ncuriosities of the country of great value. After I had returned\nhim a thousand thanks for all his favours, I went aboard. We set\nsail, and as the adventure which procured me this liberty was\nvery extraordinary, I had it continually in my thoughts.\n\nWe stopped at some islands to take in fresh provisions. Our\nvessel being come to a port on the main land in the Indies, we\ntouched there, and not being willing to venture by sea to\nBussorah, I landed my proportion of the ivory, resolving to\nproceed on my journey by land. I made vast sums of my ivory,\nbought several rarities, which I intended for presents, and when\nmy equipage was ready, set out in company with a large caravan of\nmerchants. I was a long time on the way, and suffered much, but\nendured all with patience, when I considered that I had nothing\nto fear from the seas, from pirates, from serpents, or from the\nother perils to which I had been exposed.\n\nAll these fatigues ended at last, and I arrived safe at Bagdad. I\nwent immediately to wait upon the caliph, and gave him an account\nof my embassy. That prince said he had been uneasy, as I was so\nlong in returning, but that he always hoped God would preserve\nme. When I told him the adventure of the elephants, he seemed\nmuch surprised, and would never have given any credit to it had\nhe not known my veracity. He deemed this story, and the other\nrelations I had given him, to be so curious, that he ordered one\nof his secretaries to write them in characters of gold, and lay\nthem up in his treasury. I retired well satisfied with the\nhonours I received, and the presents which he gave me; and ever\nsince I have devoted myself wholly to my family, kindred, and\nfriends.\n\nSinbad here finished the relation of his seventh and last voyage,\nand then addressing himself to Hindbad, \"Well, friend,\" said he,\n\"did you ever hear of any person that suffered so much as I have\ndone, or of any mortal that has gone through so many\nvicissitudes? Is it not reasonable that, after all this I should\nenjoy a quiet and pleasant life?\" As he said this, Hindbad drew\nnear to him, and kissing his hand, said, \"I must acknowledge,\nsir, that you have gone through many imminent dangers; my\ntroubles are not comparable to yours: if they afflict me for a\ntime, I comfort myself with the thoughts of the profit I get by\nthem. You not only deserve a quiet life, but are worthy of all\nthe riches you enjoy, because you make of them such a good and\ngenerous use. May you therefore continue to live in happiness and\njoy till the day of your death!\" Sinbad gave him one hundred\nsequins more, received him into the number of his friends,\ndesired him to quit his porter's employment, and come and dine\nevery day with him, that he might have reason to remember Sinbad\nthe voyager.\n\n\n\n\n                       THE THREE APPLES.\n\n\n\nThe Caliph Haroon al Rusheed one day commanded the grand vizier\nJaffier to come to his palace the night following. \"Vizier,\" said\nhe, \"I will take a walk round the town, to inform myself what\npeople say, and particularly how they are pleased with my\nofficers of justice. If there be any against whom they have cause\nof just complaint, we will turn them out, and put others in their\nstead, who shall officiate better. If, on the contrary, there be\nany that have gained their applause, we will have that esteem for\nthem which they deserve.\" The grand vizier being come to the\npalace at the hour appointed, the caliph, he, and Mesrour the\nchief of the eunuchs, disguised themselves so that they could not\nbe known, and went out all three together.\n\nThey passed through several places, and by several markets. As\nthey entered a small street, they perceived by the light of the\nmoon, a tall man, with a white beard, who carried nets on his\nhead, and a staff in his hand. \"To judge from his appearance,\"\nsaid the caliph, \"that old man is not rich; let us go to him and\ninquire into his circumstances.\" \"Honest man,\" said the vizier,\n\"who art thou?\" The old man replied, \"Sir, I am a fisher, but one\nof the poorest and most miserable of the trade. I went from my\nhouse about noon a fishing, and from that time to this I have not\nbeen able to catch one fish; at the same time I have a wife and\nsmall children, and nothing to maintain them.\"\n\nThe caliph, moved with compassion, said to the fisherman, \"Hast\nthou the courage to go back and cast thy net once more? We will\ngive thee a hundred sequins for what thou shalt bring up.\" At\nthis proposal, the fisherman, forgetting all his day's toil, took\nthe caliph at his word, and returned to the Tigris, accompanied\nby the caliph, Jaaffier, and Mesrour; saying to himself as he\nwent, \"These gentlemen seem too honest and reasonable not to\nreward my pains; and if they give me the hundredth part of what\nthey promise, it will be an ample recompence.\"\n\nThey came to the bank of the river, and the fisherman, having\nthrown in his net, when he drew it again, brought up a trunk\nclose shut, and very heavy. The caliph made the grand vizier pay\nhim one hundred sequins immediately, and sent him away. Mesrour,\nby his master's order, carried the trunk on his shoulder, and the\ncaliph was so very eager to know what it contained, that he\nreturned to the palace with all speed. When the trunk was opened,\nthey found in it a large basket made of palm-leaves, shut up, and\nthe covering of it sewed with red thread. To satisfy the caliph's\nimpatience, they would not take time to undo it, but cut the\nthread with a knife, and took out of the basket a package wrapt\nup in a sorry piece of hanging, and bound about with a rope;\nwhich being untied, they found, to their great amazement, the\ncorpse of a young lady, whiter than snow, all cut in pieces.\n\nThe astonishment of the caliph was great at this dreadful\nspectacle. His surprise was instantly changed into passion, and\ndarting an angry look at the vizier, \"Thou wretch,\" said he, \"is\nthis your inspection into the actions of my people? Do they\ncommit such impious murders under thy ministry in my capital, and\nthrow my subjects into the Tigris, that they may cry for\nvengeance against me at the day of judgment? If thou dost not\nspeedily avenge the murder of this woman, by the death of her\nmurderer, I swear by heaven, that I will cause thee and forty\nmore of thy kindred to be impaled.\" \"Commander of the faithful,\"\nreplied the grand vizier, \"I beg your majesty to grant me time to\nmake enquiry.\" \"I will allow thee no more,\" said the caliph,\n\"than three days.\"\n\nThe vizier Jaaffier went home in great perplexity. \"Alas!\" said\nhe \"how is it possible that in such a vast and populous city as\nBagdad, I should be able to detect a murderer, who undoubtedly\ncommitted the crime without witness, and perhaps may be already\ngone from hence? Any other vizier than I would take some wretched\nperson out of prison, and cause him to be put to death to satisfy\nthe caliph; but I will not burden my conscience with such a\nbarbarous action; I will rather die than preserve my life by the\nsacrifice of another innocent person.\"\n\nHe ordered the officers of the police and justice to make strict\nsearch for the criminal. They sent their servants about, and they\nwere not idle themselves, for they were no less concerned in this\nmatter than the vizier. But all their endeavours were to no\npurpose; what pains soever they took they could not discover the\nmurderer; so that the vizier concluded his life to be lost.\n\nThe third day being arrived, an officer came to the unfortunate\nminister, with a summons to follow him, which the vizier obeyed.\nThe caliph asked him for the murderer. He answered, \"Commander of\nthe faithful, I have not found any person that could give me the\nleast account of him.\" The caliph, full of fury and rage, gave\nhim many reproachful words, and ordered that he and forty\nBermukkees should be impaled at the gate of the palace.\n\nIn the mean while the stakes were preparing, and orders were sent\nto seize forty Bermukkees in their houses; a public crier was\nsent about the city by the caliph's order, to cry thus: \"Those\nwho have a desire to see the grand vizier Jaaffier impaled, with\nforty of his kindred, let them come to the square before the\npalace.\"\n\nWhen all things were ready, the criminal judge, and many officers\nbelonging to the palace, having brought out the grand vizier with\nthe forty Bermukkees, set each by the stake designed for him. The\nmultitude of people that filled the square could not without\ngrief and tears behold this tragical sight; for the grand vizier\nand the Bermukkees were loved and honoured on account of their\nprobity, bounty, and impartiality, not only in Bagdad, but\nthrough all the dominions of the caliph.\n\nNothing could prevent the execution of this prince's severe and\nirrevocable sentence, and the lives of the most deserving people\nin the city were just going to be sacrificed, when a young man of\nhandsome mien pressed through the crowd till he came up to the\ngrand vizier, and after he had kissed his hand, said, \"Most\nexcellent vizier, chief of the emirs of this court, and comforter\nof the poor, you are not guilty of the crime for which you stand\nhere. Withdraw, and let me expiate the death of the lady that was\nthrown into the Tigris. It is I who murdered her, and I deserve\nto be punished for my offence.\"\n\nThough these words occasioned great joy to the vizier, yet he\ncould not but pity the young man, in whose look he saw something\nthat instead of evincing guilt was engaging: but as he was about\nto answer him, a tall man advanced in years, who had likewise\nforced his way through the crowd, came up to him, saying, \"Do not\nbelieve what this young man tells you, I killed that lady who was\nfound in the trunk, and this punishment ought only to fall upon\nme. I conjure you in the name of God not to punish the innocent\nfor the guilty.\" \"Sir,\" said the young man to the vizier, \"I do\nprotest that I am he who committed this vile act, and nobody else\nhad any concern in it.\" \"My son,\" said the old man, \"it is\ndespair that brought you hither, and you would anticipate your\ndestiny. I have lived a long while in the world, and it is time\nfor me to be gone; let me therefore sacrifice my life for yours.\"\n\"Sir,\" said he again to the vizier, \"I tell you once more I am\nthe murderer; let me die without delay.\"\n\nThe controversy between the old and the young man induced the\ngrand vizier to carry them both before the caliph, to which the\njudge criminal consented, being glad to serve the vizier. When he\ncame before the prince, he kissed the ground seven times, and\nspake after this manner: \"Commander of the faithful, I have\nbrought here before your majesty this old and this young man,\neach of whom declares himself to be the sole murderer of the\nlady.\" The caliph asked the criminals which of them it was that\nso cruelly murdered the lady, and threw her into the Tigris? The\nyoung man assured him it was he, but the old man maintained the\ncontrary. \"Go,\" said the caliph to the grand vizier, \"and cause\nthem both to be impaled.\" \"But, Sir,\" said the vizier, \"if only\none of them be guilty, it would be unjust to take the lives of\nboth.\" At these words the young man spoke again, \"I swear by the\ngreat God, who has raised the heavens so high, that I am the man\nwho killed the lady, cut her in pieces, and about four days ago\nthrew her into the Tigris. I renounce my part of happiness\namongst the just at the day of judgment, if what I say be not\ntruth; therefore I am he that ought to suffer.\" The caliph being\nsurprised at this oath, believed him; especially since the old\nman made no answer. Whereupon, turning to the young man,\n\"Wretch,\" said he, \"what made thee commit that detestable crime,\nand what is it that moves thee to offer thyself voluntarily to\ndie?\" \"Commander of the faithful,\" said he, \"if all that has past\nbetween that lady and me were set down in writing, it would be a\nhistory that might be useful to other men.\" \"I command thee then\nto relate it,\" said the caliph. The young man obeyed, and began\nhis history.\n\n\n\n\n  The Story of the Lady who was Murdered, and of the Young Man her\n                            Husband.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, this murdered lady was my wife,\ndaughter of this old man, who is my uncle by the father's side.\nShe was not above twelve years old, when eleven years ago he gave\nher to me. I have three children by her, all boys, yet alive, and\nI must do her the justice to say, that she never gave me the\nleast occasion for offence; she was chaste, of good behaviour,\nand made it her whole business to please me. And on my part I\nardently loved her, and in every thing rather anticipated than\nopposed her wishes.\n\nAbout two months ago she fell sick; I took all imaginable care of\nher, and spared nothing that could promote her speedy recovery.\nAfter a month thus passed she began to grow better, and expressed\na wish to go to the bath. Before she went, \"Cousin,\" said she\n(for so she used to call me out of familiarity), \"I long for some\napples; if you would get me any, you would greatly please me. I\nhave longed for them a great while, and I must own it is come to\nthat height, that if I be not satisfied very soon, I fear some\nmisfortune will befall me.\" \"I will cheerfully try,\" said I, \"and\ndo all in my power to make you easy.\"\n\nI went immediately round all the markets and shops in the town to\nseek for apples, but I could not get one, though I offered to pay\na sequin a piece. I returned home much dissatisfied at my\nfailure; and for my wife, when she returned from the bagnio, and\nsaw no apples, she became so very uneasy, that she could not\nsleep all night. I got up by times in the morning, and went\nthrough all the gardens, but had no better success than the day\nbefore; only I happened to meet an old gardener, who told me,\nthat all my pains would signify nothing, for I could not expect\nto find apples any where but in your majesty's garden at\nBussorah. As I loved my wife passionately, and would not neglect\nto satisfy her, I dressed myself in a traveller's habit, and\nafter I had told her my design, went to Bussorah, and made my\njourney with such speed, that I returned at the end of fifteen\ndays with three apples, which cost me a sequin apiece, for as\nthere were no more left, the gardener would not let me have them\nfor less. As soon as I came home, I presented them to my wife,\nbut her longing had ceased, she satisfied herself with receiving\nthem, and laid them down by her. In the mean time she continued\nsickly, and I knew not what remedy to procure for her relief.\n\nSome few days after I returned from my journey, sitting in my\nshop in the public place where all sorts of fine stuffs are sold,\nI saw an ugly, tall, black slave come in, with an apple in his\nhand, which I knew to be one of those I had brought from\nBussorah. I had no reason to doubt it, because I was certain\nthere was not one to be had in Bagdad, nor in any of the gardens\nin the vicinity. I called to him, and said, \"Good slave, pr'ythee\ntell me where thou hadst this apple?\" \"It is a present\" (said he,\nsmiling) \"from my mistress. I went to see her to-day, and found\nher out of order. I saw three apples lying by her, and asked her\nwhere she had them. She told me the good man, her husband, had\nmade a fortnight's journey on purpose, and brought them to her.\nWe had a collation together; and, when I took my leave of her, I\nbrought away this apple.\"\n\nThis account rendered me distracted. I rose, shut up my shop, ran\nhome with all speed, and going to my wife's chamber, looked\nimmediately for the apples, and seeing only two, asked what was\nbecome of the third. My wife, turning her head to the place where\nthe apples lay, and perceiving there were but two, answered me\ncoldly, \"Cousin, I know not what is become of it.\" At this reply\nI was convinced what the slave had told me was true; and giving\nmyself up to madness and jealousy, drew my knife from my girdle,\nand thrust it into the unfortunate creature's throat. I\nafterwards cut off her head, and divided her body into four\nquarters, which I packed up in a bundle, sewed it up with a\nthread of red yarn, put all together in a trunk, and when night\ncame, carried it on my shoulder down to the Tigris, where I sunk\nit.\n\nThe two youngest of my children were asleep, the third was out;\nbut at my return, I found him sitting by my gate, weeping. I\nasked him the reason; \"Father,\" said he, \"I took this morning\nfrom my mother, without her knowledge, one of those three apples\nyou brought her, and kept it a long while; but, as I was playing\nsome time ago with my little brother in the street, a tall slave\npassing by snatched it out of my hands, and carried it away. I\nran after him, demanding it back, and besides told him, that it\nbelonged to my mother, who was sick; and that you had made a\nfortnight's journey to procure it; but all to no purpose, he\nwould not restore it. And as I still followed him, crying out, he\nturned and beat me, and then ran away as fast as he could from\none lane to another, till at length I lost sight of him. I have\nsince been walking without the town expecting your return, to\npray you, dear father, not to tell my mother of it, lest it\nshould make her worse!\" When he had thus spoken he fell a weeping\nagain more bitterly than before.\n\nMy son's account afflicted me beyond measure. I then found myself\nguilty of an enormous crime, and repented too late of having so\neasily believed the calumnies of a wretched slave, who, from what\nhe had learnt of my son, had invented that fatal falsehood.\n\nMy uncle here present came just at that time to see his daughter,\nbut instead of finding her alive, understood from me that she was\ndead, for I concealed nothing from him; and without staying for\nhis censure, declared myself the greatest criminal in the world.\n\nUpon this, instead of reproaching me, he joined his tears with\nmine, and we together wept three days without intermission, he\nfor the loss of a daughter whom he had loved tenderly; and I for\nthe loss of a beloved wife, of whom I had deprived myself in so\ncruel a manner by giving too easy credit to the report of a lying\nslave.\n\nThis, commander of the faithful, is the sincere confession your\nmajesty required from me. You have now heard all the\ncircumstances of my crime, and I must humbly beg of you to order\nthe punishment due for it; how severe soever it may be, I shall\nnot in the least complain, but esteem it too easy and light.\n\nThe caliph was much astonished at the young man's relation. But\nthis just prince, finding he was rather to be pitied than\ncondemned, began to speak in his favour: \"This young man's\ncrime,\" said he, \"is pardonable before God, and excusable with\nmen. The wicked slave is the sole cause of this murder; it is he\nalone that must be punished: wherefore,\" continued he, looking\nupon the grand vizier, \"I give you three days' time to find him\nout; if you do not bring him within that space, you shall die in\nhis stead.\" The unfortunate Jaaffier, had thought himself out of\ndanger, was perplexed at this order of the caliph; but as he\ndurst not return any answer to the prince, whose hasty temper he\nknew too well, he departed from his presence, and retired\nmelancholy to his house, convinced that he had but three days to\nlive; for he was so fully persuaded that he should not find the\nslave, that he made not the least enquiry after him. \"Is it\npossible,\" said he, \"that in such a city as Bagdad, where there\nis an infinite number of negro slaves, I should be able to find\nhim out that is guilty? Unless God be pleased to interpose as he\nhath already to detest the murderer, nothing can save my life.\"\n\nHe spent the first two days in mourning with his family, who sat\nround him weeping and complaining of the caliph's cruelty. The\nthird day being arrived, he prepared himself to die with courage,\nas an honest minister, and one who had nothing to trouble his\nconscience; he sent for notaries and witnesses' who signed his\nwill. After which he took leave of his wife and children, and\nbade them farewell. All his family were drowned in tears, so that\nthere never was a more sorrowful spectacle. At last a messenger\ncame from the caliph to tell him that he was out of all patience,\nhaving heard nothing from him concerning the negro slave whom he\nhad commanded him to search for; \"I am therefore ordered,\" said\nthe messenger, \"to bring you before his throne.\" The afflicted\nvizier, obeyed the mandate, but as he was going out, they brought\nhim his youngest daughter, about five or six years of age, to\nreceive his last blessing.\n\nAs he had a particular affection for that child, he prayed the\nmessenger to give him leave to stop a moment, and taking his\ndaughter in his arms, kissed her several times: as he kissed her,\nhe perceived she had something in her bosom that looked bulky,\nand had a sweet scent. \"My dear little one,\" said he, \"what hast\nthou in thy bosom?\" \"My dear father,\" she replied, \"it is an\napple which our slave Rihan sold me for two sequins.\"\n\nAt these words apple and slave, the grand vizier, uttered an\nexclamation of surprise, intermixed with joy, and putting his\nhand into the child's bosom, pulled out the apple. He caused the\nslave, who was not far off, to be brought immediately, and when\nhe came, \"Rascal,\" said he, \"where hadst thou this apple?\" \"My\nlord,\" replied the slave, \"I swear to you that I neither stole it\nin your house, nor out of the commander of the faithful's garden;\nbut the other day, as I was passing through a street where three\nor four children were at play, one of them having it in his hand,\nI snatched it from him, and carried it away. The child ran after\nme, telling me it was not his own, but belonged mother, who was\nsick; and that his father, to satisfy her longing, had made a\nlong journey, and brought home three apples, whereof this was\none, which he had taken from his mother without her knowledge. He\nsaid all he could to prevail upon me to give it him back, but I\nrefused, and so brought it home, and sold it for two sequins to\nthe little lady your daughter.\"\n\nJaaffier could not reflect without astonishment that the\nmischievousness of a slave had been the cause of an innocent\nwoman's death, and nearly of his own. He carried the slave along\nwith him, and when he came before the caliph, gave the prince an\nexact account of what the slave had told him, and the chance\nwhich led him to the discovery of his crime.\n\nNever was any surprise so great as that of the caliph, yet he\ncould not refrain from falling into excessive fits of laughter.\nAt last he recovered himself, and with a serious air told the\nvizier, that since his slave had been the occasion of murder, he\ndeserved an exemplary punishment. \"I must own it,\" said the\nvizier, \"but his guilt is not unpardonable: I remember the\nwonderful history of a vizier, of Cairo, and am ready to relate\nit, upon condition that if your majesty finds it more astonishing\nthan that which gives me occasion to tell it, you will be pleased\nto pardon my slave.\" \"I consent,\" said the caliph; \"but you\nundertake a hard task, for I do not believe you can save your\nslave, the story of the apples being so very singular.\" Upon\nthis, Jaaffier began his story thus:\n\n\n\n\n   The Story of Noor ad Deen Ali and Buddir ad Deen Houssun.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, there was formerly a sultan of Egypt,\na strict observer of justice, gracious, merciful, and liberal,\nand his valour made him terrible to his neighbours. He loved the\npoor, and protected the learned, whom he advanced to the highest\ndignities. This sultan had a vizier, who was prudent, wise,\nsagacious, and well versed in all sciences. This minister had two\nsons, who in every thing followed his footsteps. The eldest was\ncalled Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, and the younger Noor ad Deen Ali.\nThe latter was endowed with all the good qualities that man could\npossess.\n\nThe vizier their father being dead, the sultan caused them both\nto put on the robes of a vizier, \"I am as sorry,\" said he, \"as\nyou are for the loss of your father; and because I know you live\ntogether, and love one another cordially, I will bestow his\ndignity upon you conjointly; go, and imitate your father's\nconduct.\"\n\nThe two new viziers humbly thanked the sultan, and retired to\nmake due preparation for their father's interment. They did not\ngo abroad for a month, after which they repaired to court, and\nattended their duties. When the sultan hunted, one of the\nbrothers accompanied him, and this honour they had by turns. One\nevening as they were conversing together after a cheerful meal,\nthe next day being the elder brother's turn to hunt with the\nsultan, he said to his younger brother, \"Since neither of us is\nyet married, and we live so affectionately together, let us both\nwed the same day sisters out of some family that may suit our\nquality. What do you think of this plan?\" \"Brother,\" answered the\nother vizier, \"there cannot be a better thought; for my part, I\nwill agree to any thing you approve.\" \"But this is not all,\" said\nthe elder; \"my fancy carries me farther: Suppose both our wives\nshould conceive the first night of our marriage, and should\nhappen to be brought to bed on one day, yours of a son, and mine\nof a daughter, we will give them to each other in marriage.\"\n\"Nay,\" said Noor ad Deen aloud, \"I must acknowledge that this\nprospect is admirable; such a marriage will perfect our union,\nand I willingly consent to it. But then, brother,\" said he\nfarther, \"if this marriage should happen, would you expect that\nmy son should settle a jointure on your daughter?\" \"There is no\ndifficulty in that,\" replied the other; \"for I am persuaded, that\nbesides the usual articles of the marriage contract, you will not\nfail to promise in his name at least three thousand sequins,\nthree landed estates, and three slaves.\" \"No,\" said the younger\n\"I will not consent to that; are we not brethren, and equal in\ntitle and dignity? Do not you and I know what is just? The male\nbeing nobler than the female, it is your part to give a large\ndowry with your daughter. By what I perceive, you are a man that\nwould have your business done at another's charge.\"\n\nAlthough Noor ad Deen spoke these words in jest, his brother\nbeing of a hasty temper, was offended, and falling into a passion\nsaid, \"A mischief upon your son, since you prefer him before my\ndaughter. I wonder you had so much confidence as to believe him\nworthy of her; you must needs have lost your judgment to think\nyou are my equal, and say we are colleagues. I would have you to\nknow, that since you are so vain, I would not marry my daughter\nto your son though you would give him more than you are worth.\"\nThis pleasant quarrel between two brothers about the marriage of\ntheir children before they were born went so far, that Shumse ad\nDeen concluded by threatening: \"Were I not to-morrow,\" said he,\n\"to attend the sultan, I would treat you as you deserve; but at\nmy return, I will make you sensible that it does not become a\nyounger brother to speak so insolently to his elder as you have\ndone to me.\" Upon this he retired to his apartment in anger.\n\nShumse ad Deen rising early next morning, attended the sultan,\nwho went to hunt near the pyramids. As for Noor ad Deen, he was\nvery uneasy all night, and supposing it would not be possible to\nlive longer with a brother who had treated him with so much\nhaughtiness, he provided a stout mule, furnished himself with\nmoney and jewels, and having told his people that he was going on\na private journey for two or three days, departed.\n\nWhen out of Cairo, he rode by way of the desert towards Arabia;\nbut his mule happening to tire, was forced to continue his\njourney on foot. A courier who was going to Bussorah, by good\nfortune overtaking him, took him up behind him. As soon as the\ncourier reached that city, Noor ad Deen alighted, and returned\nhim thanks for his kindness. As he went about to seek for a\nlodging, he saw a person of quality with a numerous retinue, to\nwhom all the people shewed the greatest respect, and stood still\ntill he had passed. This personage was grand vizier, to the\nsultan of Bussorah, who was passing through the city to see that\nthe inhabitants kept good order and discipline.\n\nThis minister casting his eyes by chance on Noor ad Deen Ali,\nperceiving something extraordinary in his aspect, looked very\nattentively upon him, and as he saw him in a traveller's habit,\nstopped his train, asked him who he was, and from whence he came?\n\"Sir,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"I am an Egyptian, born at Cairo, and\nhave left my country, because of the unkindness of a near\nrelation, resolved to travel through the world, and rather to die\nthan return home.\" The grand vizier, who was a good-natured man,\nafter hearing these words, said to him, \"Son, beware; do not\npursue your design; you are not sensible of the hardships you\nmust endure. Follow me; I may perhaps make you forget the\nmisfortunes which have forced you to leave your own country.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen followed the grand vizier, who soon discovered his\ngood qualities, and conceived for him so great an affection, that\none day he said to him in private, \"My son, I am, as you see, so\nfar gone in years, that it is not probable I shall live much\nlonger. Heaven has bestowed on me only one daughter, who is as\nbeautiful as you are handsome, and now fit for marriage. Several\nnobles of the highest rank at this court have sought her for\ntheir sons, but I would not grant their request. I have an\naffection for you, and think you so worthy to be received into my\nfamily, that, preferring you before all those who have demanded\nher, I am ready to accept you for my son-in-law. If you like the\nproposal, I will acquaint the sultan my master that I have\nadopted you by this marriage, and intreat him to grant you the\nreversion of my dignity of grand vizier in the kingdom of\nBussorah. In the mean time, nothing being more requisite for me\nthan ease in my old age, I will not only put you in possession of\ngreat part of my estate, but leave the administration of public\naffairs to your management.\"\n\nWhen the grand vizier had concluded this kind and generous\nproposal, Noor ad Deen fell at his feet, and expressing himself\nin terms that demonstrated his joy and gratitude, assured him,\nthat he was at his command in every way. Upon this the vizier\nsent for his chief domestics, ordered them to adorn the great\nhall of his palace, and prepare a splendid feast. He afterwards\nsent to invite the nobility of the court and city, to honour him\nwith their company; and when they were all met (Noor ad Deen\nhaving made known his quality), he said to the noblemen present,\nfor he thought it proper to speak thus on purpose to satisfy\nthose to whom he had refused his alliance, \"I am now, my lords,\nto discover a circumstance which hitherto I have keep a secret. I\nhave a brother, who is grand vizier to the sultan of Egypt. This\nbrother has but one son, whom he would not marry in the court of\nEgypt, but sent him hither to wed my daughter in order that both\nbranches of our family may be united. His son, whom I knew to be\nmy nephew as soon as I saw him, is the young man I now present to\nyou as my son-in-law. I hope you will do me the honour to be\npresent at his wedding, which I am resolved to celebrate this\nday.\" The noblemen, who could not be offended at his preferring\nhis nephew to the great matches that had been proposed, allowed\nthat he had very good reason for his choice, were willing to be\nwitnesses to the ceremony, and wished that God might prolong his\ndays to enjoy the satisfaction of the happy match.\n\nThe lords met at the vizier of Bussorah's palace, having\ntestified their satisfaction at the marriage of his daughter with\nNoor ad Deen Ali, sat down to a magnificent repast, after which,\nnotaries came in with the marriage contrast, and the chief lords\nsigned it; and when the company had departed, the grand vizier\nordered his servants to have every thing in readiness for Noor ad\nDeen Ali, to bathe. He had fine new linen, and rich vestments\nprovided for him in the greatest profusion. Having bathed and\ndressed, he was perfumed with the most odoriferous essences, and\nwent to compliment the vizier, his father-in-law, who was\nexceedingly pleased with his noble demeanour. Having made him sit\ndown, \"My son,\" said he, \"you have declared to me who you are,\nand the office you held at the court of Egypt. You have also told\nme of a difference betwixt you and your brother, which occasioned\nyou to leave your country. I desire you to make me your entire\nconfidant, and to acquaint me with the cause of your quarrel; for\nnow you have no reason either to doubt my affection, or to\nconceal any thing from me.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen informed him of every circumstance of the quarrel; at\nwhich the vizier, burst out into a fit of laughter, and said, \"This is\none of the strangest occurrences I ever heard. Is it possible, my son,\nthat your quarrel should rise so high about an imaginary marriage? I\nam sorry you fell out with your elder brother upon such a frivolous\nmatter; but he was also wrong in being angry at what you only spoke in\njest, and I ought to thank heaven for that difference which has\nprocured me such a son-in-law. But,\" continued the vizier, \"it is\nlate, and time for you to retire; go to your bride, my son, she\nexpects you: to-morrow, I will present you to the sultan, and hope he\nwill receive you in such a manner as shall satisfy us both.\" Noor ad\nDeen Ali took leave of his father-in-law, and retired to his bridal\napartment.\n\nIt is remarkable that Shumse ad Deen Mahummud happened also to\nmarry at Cairo the very same day that this marriage was\nsolemnized at Bussorah, the particulars of which are as follow:\n\nAfter Noor ad Deen Ali left Cairo, with an intention never to\nreturn, his elder brother, who was hunting with the sultan of\nEgypt, was absent for a month; for the sultan being fond of the\nchase, continued it often for so long a period. At his return,\nShumse ad Deen was much surprised when he understood, that under\npresence of taking a short journey his brother departed from\nCairo on a mule the same day as the sultan, and had never\nappeared since. It vexed him so much the more, because he did not\ndoubt but the harsh words he had used had occasioned his flight.\nHe sent a messenger in search of him, who went to Damascus, and\nas far as Aleppo, but Noor ad Deen was then at Bussorah. When the\ncourier returned and brought no news of him, Shumse ad Deen\nintended to make further inquiry after him in other parts; but in\nthe meantime matched with the daughter of one of the greatest\nlords in Cairo, upon the same day in which his brother married\nthe daughter of the grand vizier, of Bussorah.\n\nAt the end of nine months the wife of Shumse ad Deen was brought\nto bed of a daughter at Cairo, and on the same day the lady of\nNoor ad Deen was delivered of a son at Bussorah, who was called\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun.\n\nThe grand vizier, of Bussorah testified his joy for the birth of\nhis grandson by gifts and public entertainments. And to shew his\nson-in-law the great esteem he had for him, he went to the\npalace, and most humbly besought the sultan to grant Noor ad Deen\nAli his office, that he might have the comfort before his death\nto see his son in-law made grand vizier, in his stead.\n\nThe sultan, who had conceived a distinguished regard for Noor ad\nDeen when the vizier, had presensed him upon his marriage, and\nhad ever since heard every body speak well of him, readily\ngranted his father-in-law's request, and caused Noor ad Deen\nimmediately to be invested with the robe and insignia of the\nvizarut, such as state drums, standards, and writing apparatus of\ngold richly enamelled and set with jewels.\n\nThe next day, when the father saw his son-in-law preside in\ncouncil, as he himself had done, and perform all the offices of\ngrand vizier, his joy was complete. Noor ad Deen Ali conducted\nhimself with that dignity and propriety which shewed him to have\nbeen used to state affairs, and engaged the approbation of the\nsultan, and reverence and affection of the people.\n\nThe old vizier of Bussorah died about four years afterwards with\ngreat satisfaction, seeing a branch of his family that promised\nso fair to support its future consequence and respectability.\n\nNoor ad Deen Ali, performed his last duty to him with all\npossible love and gratitude. And as soon as his son Buddir ad\nDeen Houssun had attained the age of seven years, provided him an\nexcellent tutor, who taught him such things as became his birth.\nThe child had a ready wit, and a genius capable of receiving all\nthe good instructions that could be given.\n\nAfter Buddir ad Deen had been two years under the tuition of his\nmaster, who taught him perfectly to read, he learnt the Koran by\nheart. His father put him afterwards to other tutors, by whom his\nmind was cultivated to such a degree, that when he was twelve\nyears of age he had no more occasion for them. And then, as his\nphysiognomy promised wonders, he was admired by all who saw him.\n\nHitherto his father had kept him to study, but now he introduced\nhim to the sultan, who received him graciously. The people who\nsaw him in the streets were charmed with his demeanour, and gave\nhim a thousand blessings.\n\nHis father proposing to render him capable of supplying his\nplace, accustomed him to business of the greatest moment, on\npurpose to qualify him betimes. In short, he omitted nothing to\nadvance a son he loved so well. But as he began to enjoy the\nfruits of his labour, he was suddenly seized by a violent fit of\nsickness; and finding himself past recovery, disposed himself to\ndie a good Mussulmaun.\n\nIn that last and precious moment he forgot not his son, but\ncalled for him, and said, \"My son, you see this world is\ntransitory; there is nothing durable but in that to which I shall\nspeedily go. You must therefore from henceforth begin to fit\nyourself for this change, as I have done; you must prepare for it\nwithout murmuring, so as to have no trouble of conscience for not\nhaving acted the part of a really honest man. As for your\nreligion, you are sufficiently instructed in it, by what you have\nlearnt from your tutors, and your own study; and as to what\nbelongs to an upright man, I shall give you some instructions, of\nwhich I hope you will make good use. As it is a necessary thing\nto know one's self, and you cannot come to that knowledge without\nyou first understand who I am, I shall now inform you.\n\n\"I am a native of Egypt; my father, your grandfather, was first\nminister to the sultan of that kingdom. I had myself the honour\nto be vizier, to that sultan, and so has my brother, your uncle,\nwho I suppose is yet alive; his name is Shumse ad Deen Mahummud.\nI was obliged to leave him, and come into this country, where I\nhave raised myself to the high dignity I now enjoy. But you will\nunderstand all these matters more fully by a manuscript that I\nshall give you.\"\n\nAt the same time, Noor ad Deen Ali gave to his son a memorandum\nbook, saying, \"Take and read it at your leisure; you will find,\namong other things, the day of my marriage, and that of your\nbirth. These are circumstances which perhaps you may hereafter\nhave occasion to know, therefore you must keep it very\ncarefully.\"\n\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun being sincerely afflicted to see his\nfather in this condition, and sensibly touched with his\ndiscourse, could not but weep when he received the memorandum\nbook, and promised at the same time never to part with it.\n\nThat very moment Noor ad Deen fainted, so that it was thought he\nwould have expired; but he came to himself again, and spoke as\nfollows:\n\n\"My son, the first instruction I give you, is, Not to make\nyourself familiar with all sorts of people. The way to live happy\nis to keep your mind to yourself, and not to tell your thoughts\ntoo easily.\n\n\"Secondly, Not to do violence to any body whatever, for in that\ncase you will draw every body's hatred upon you. You ought to\nconsider the world as a creditor, to whom you owe moderation,\ncompassion, and forbearance.\n\n\"Thirdly, Not to say a word when you are reproached; for, as the\nproverb says, 'He that keeps silence is out of danger.' And in\nthis case particularly you ought to practice it. You also know\nwhat one of our poets says upon this subject, 'That silence is\nthe ornament and safe-guard of life'; That our speech ought not\nto be like a storm of hail that spoils all. Never did any man yet\nrepent of having spoken too little, whereas many have been sorry\nthat they spoke so much.\n\n\"Fourthly, To drink no wine, for that is the source of all vices.\n\n\"Fifthly, To be frugal in your way of living; if you do not\nsquander your estate, it will maintain you in time of necessity.\nI do not mean you should be either profuse or niggardly; for\nthough you have little, if you husband it well, and lay it out on\nproper occasions, you will have many friends; but if on the\ncontrary you have great riches, and make but a bad use of them,\nall the world will forsake you, and leave you to yourself.\"\n\nIn short, the virtuous Noor ad Deen continued till the last\naspiration of his breath to give good advice to his son; and when\nhe was dead he was magnificently interred.\n\nNoor ad Deen was buried with all the honours due to his rank.\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun of Bussorah, for so he was called, because\nborn in that city, was with grief for the death of his father,\nthat instead of a month's time to mourn, according to custom, he\nkept himself shut up in tears and solitude about two months,\nwithout seeing any body, or so much as going abroad to pay his\nduty to his sovereign. The sultan being displeased at his\nneglect, and looking upon it as a alight, suffered his passion to\nprevail, and in his anger, called for the new grand vizier, (for\nhe had created another on the death of Noor ad Deen), commanded\nhim to go to the house of the deceased, and seize upon it, with\nall his other houses, lands, and effects, without leaving any\nthing for Buddir ad Deen Houssun, and to confine his person.\n\nThe new grand vizier, accompanied by his officers, went\nimmediately to execute his commission. But one of Buddir ad Deen\nHoussun's slaves happening accidentally to come into the crowd,\nno sooner understood the vizier's errand, than he ran before to\ngive his master warning. He found him sitting in the vestibule of\nhis house, as melancholy as if his father had been but newly\ndead. He fell down at his feet out of breath, and alter he had\nkissed the hem of his garment, cried out, \"My lord, save yourself\nimmediately.\" The unfortunate youth lifting up his head,\nexclaimed, \"What news dost thou bring?\" \"My lord,\" said he,\n\"there is no time to be lost; the sultan is incensed against you,\nhas sent to confiscate your estates, and to seize your person.\"\n\nThe words of this faithful and affectionate slave occasioned\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun great alarm. \"May not I have so much\ntime,\" said he, \"as to take some money and jewels along with me?\"\n\"No, Sir,\" replied the slave, \"the grand vizier, will be here\nthis moment; be gone immediately, save yourself.\" The unhappy\nyouth rose hastily from his sofa, put his feet in his sandals,\nand after he had covered his head with the skirt of his vest,\nthat his face might not be known, fled, without knowing what way\nto go, to avoid the impending danger.\n\nHe ran without stopping till he came to the public burying-ground, and\nas it was growing dark, resolved to pass that night in his father's\ntomb. It was a large edifice, covered by a dome, which Noor ad Deen\nAli, as is common with the Mussulmauns, had erected for his sepulture.\nOn the way Buddir ad Deen met a Jew, who was a banker and merchant,\nand was returning from a place where his affairs had called him, to\nthe city.\n\nThe Jew, knowing Buddir ad Deen, stopped, and saluted him very\ncourteously.\n\nIsaac the Jew, after he had paid his respects to Buddir ad Deen\nHoussun, by kissing his hand, said, \"My lord, dare I be so bold\nas to ask whither you are going at this time of night alone, and\nso much troubled? Has any thing disquieted you?\" \"Yes,\" said\nBuddir ad Deen, \"a while ago I was asleep, and my father appeared\nto me in a dream, looking very fiercely upon me, as if much\ndispleased. I started out of my sleep in alarm, and came out\nimmediately to go and pray upon his tomb.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said the Jew (who did not know the true reason why\nBuddir ad Deen had left the town), \"your father of happy memory,\nand my good lord, had store of merchandize in several vessels,\nwhich are yet at sea, and belong to you; I beg the favour of you\nto grant me the refusal of them before any other merchant. I am\nable to pay down ready money for all the goods that are in your\nships: and to begin, if you will give me those that happen to\ncome in the first that arrives in safety, I will pay you down in\npart of payment a thousand sequins,\" and drawing out a bag from\nunder his vest, he shewed it him sealed up with one seal.\n\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun being banished from home, and dispossessed\nof all that he had in the world, looked on this proposal of the\nJew as a favour from heaven, and therefore accepted it with joy.\n\"My lord,\" said the Jew, \"then you sell me for a thousand sequins\nthe lading of the first of your ships that shall arrive in port?\"\n\"Yes,\" answered Buddir ad Deen, \"I sell it to you for a thousand\nsequins; it is done.\" Upon this the Jew delivered him the bag of\na thousand sequins, and offered to count them, but Buddir ad Deen\nsaid he would trust his word. \"Since it is so, my lord,\" said he,\n\"be pleased to favour me with a small note of the bargain we have\nmade.\" As he spoke, he pulled the inkhorn from his girdle, and\ntaking a small reed out of it neatly cut for writing, presented\nit to him with a piece of paper. Buddir ad Deen Houssun wrote\nthese words:\n\n\"This writing is to testify, that Buddir ad Deen Houssun of\nBussorah, has sold to Isaac the Jew, for the sum of one thousand\nsequins, received in hand, the lading of the first of his ships\nthat shall arrive in this port.\"\n\nThis note he delivered to the Jew, after having stamped it with\nhis seal, and then took his leave of him.\n\nWhile Isaac pursued his journey to the city, Buddir ad Deen made\nthe best of his way to his father's tomb. When he came to it, he\nprostrated himself to the ground, and, with his eyes full of\ntears, deplored his miserable condition. \"Alas!\" said he,\n\"unfortunate Buddir ad Deen, what will become of thee? Whither\ncanst thou fly for refuge against the unjust prince who\npersecutes thee? Was it not enough to be afflicted by the death\nof so dear a father? Must fortune needs add new misfortunes to\njust complaints?\" He continued a long time in this posture, but\nat last rose up, and leaning his head upon his father's\ntombstone, his sorrows returned more violently than before; so\nthat he sighed and mourned, till, overcome with heaviness, he\nsunk upon the floor, and drops asleep.\n\nHe had not slept long, when a genie, who had retired to the\ncemetery during the day, and was intending, according to his\ncustom, to range about the world at night, entered the sepulchre,\nand finding Buddir ad Deen lying on his back, was surprised at\nhis beauty.\n\nWhen the genie had attentively considered Buddir ad Deen Houssun,\nhe said to himself, \"To judge of this creature by his beauty, he\nwould seem to be an angel of the terrestrial paradise, whom God\nhas sent to put the world in a flame by his charms.\" At last,\nafter he had satisfied himself with looking at him, he tool; a\nflight into the air, where meeting by chance with a perie, they\nsaluted one another; after which he said to her, \"Pray descend\nwith me into the cemetery, where I dwell, and I will shew you a\nbeauty worthy your admiration.\" The perie consented, and both\ndescended in an instant; they came into the tomb. \"Look,\" said\nthe genie, shewing her Buddir ad Deen Houssun, \"did you ever see\na youth more beautiful?\"\n\nThe perie having attentively observed Buddir ad Deen, replied, \"I\nmust confess that he is a very handsome man, but I am just come\nfrom seeing an objets at Cairo, more admirable than this; and if\nyou will hear me, I will relate her unhappy fate.\" \"You will very\nmuch oblige me,\" answered the genie. \"You must know then,\" said\nthe perie, \"that the sultan of Egypt has a vizier, Shumse ad Deen\nMahummud, who has a daughter most beautiful and accomplished. The\nsultan having heard of this young lady's beauty, sent the other\nday for her father, and said, 'I understand you have a daughter\nto marry; I would have her for my bride: will not you consent?'\nThe vizier, who did not expect this proposal, was troubled, and\ninstead of accepting it joyfully, which another in his place\nwould certainly have done, he answered the sultan: 'May it please\nyour majesty, I am not worthy of the honour you would confer upon\nme, and I most humbly beseech you to pardon me, if I do not\naccede to your request. You know I had a brother, who had the\nhonour, as well as myself, to be one of your viziers: we had some\ndifference together, which was the cause of his leaving me\nsuddenly. Since that time I have had no account of him till\nwithin these four days, that I heard he died at Bussorah, being\ngrand vizier to the sultan of that kingdom.\n\n\"'He has left a son, and there having been an agreement between\nus to match our children together, I am persuaded he intended\nthat match when he died; and being desirous to fulfil the promise\non my part, I conjure your majesty to grant me permission.'\n\n\"The sultan of Egypt, provoked at this denial of his vizier said\nto him in anger which he could not restrain: 'Is this the way in\nwhich you requite my condescension in stooping so low as to\ndesire your alliance? I know how to revenge your presumption in\ndaring to prefer another to me, and I swear that your daughter\nshall be married to the most contemptible and ugly of my slaves.'\nHaving thus spoken, he angrily commanded the vizier to quit his\npresence. The vizier retired to his palace full of confusion, and\noverwhelmed in despair.\n\n\"This very day the sultan sent for one of his grooms, who is\nhump-backed, big-bellied, crook legged, and as ugly as a\nhobgoblin; and after having commanded the vizier to marry his\ndaughter to this ghastly slave, he caused the contract to be made\nand signed by witnesses in his own presence. The preparations for\nthis fantastical wedding are all ready, and this very moment all\nthe slaves belonging to the lords of the court of Egypt are\nwaiting at the door of a bath, each with a flambeau in his hand,\nfor the crook-back groom, who is bathing, to go along with them\nto his bride, who is already dressed to receive him; and when I\ndeparted from Cairo, the ladies met for that purpose were going\nto conduct her in her nuptial attire to the hall, where she is to\nreceive her hump-backed bridegroom, and is this minute expecting\nhim. I have seen her, and do assure you, that no person can\nbehold her without admiration.\"\n\nWhen the perie left off speaking, the genie said to her, \"Whatever you\nthink or say, I cannot be persuaded that the girl's beauty exceeds\nthat of this young man.\" \"I will not dispute it with you,\" answered\nthe perie; \"for I must confess he deserves to be married to that\ncharming creature, whom they design for hump-back; and I think it were\na deed worthy of us to obstruct the sultan of Egypt's injustice, and\nput this young gentleman in the room of the slave.\" \"You are in the\nright,\" answered the genie; \"I am extremely obliged to you for so good\na thought; let us deceive him. I consent to your revenge upon the\nsultan of Egypt; let us comfort a distressed father, and make his\ndaughter as happy as she thinks herself miserable. I will do my utmost\nendeavours to make this project succeed, and I am persuaded you will\nnot be backward. I will be at the pains to carry him to Cairo before\nhe awakes, and afterwards leave it to your care to carry him\nelsewhere, when we have accomplished our design.\"\n\nThe perie and the genie having thus concerted what they had to do, the\ngenie lifted up Buddir ad Deen Houssun gently, and with an\ninconceivable swiftness conveyed him through the air and set him down\nat the door of a building next to the bath, whence hump-back was to\ncome with a train of slaves that waited for him. Buddir ad Deen awoke,\nand was naturally alarmed at finding himself in the middle of a city\nhe knew not; he was going to cry out, but the genie touched him gently\non the shoulder, and forbad him to speak. He then put a torch in his\nhand, saying, \"Go, and mix with the crowd at the door of the bath;\nfollow them till you come into a hall, where they are going to\ncelebrate a marriage. The bridegroom is a hump-backed fellow, and by\nthat you will easily know him. Put yourself at the right hand as you\ngo in, open the purse of sequins you have in your bosom, distribute\nthem among the musicians and dancers as they go along; and when you\nare got into the hall, give money also to the female slaves you see\nabout the bride; but every time you put your hand in your purse, be\nsure to take out a whole handful, and do not spare them. Observe to do\neverything exactly as I have desired you; be not afraid of any person,\nand leave the rest to a superior power, who will order matters as he\nthinks fit.\"\n\nBuddir ad Deen, being well instructed in all that he was to do,\nadvanced towards the door of the bath. The first thing he did was\nto light his torch at that of a slave; and then mixing among them\nas if he belonged to some noblemen of Cairo, he marched along as\nthey did, and followed humpback, who came out of the bath, and\nmounted a horse from the sultan's own stable.\n\nBuddir ad Deen coming near to the musicians, and men and women\ndancers, who went just before the bridegroom, pulled out time\nafter time whole handfuls of sequins, which he distributed among\nthem: and as he thus gave his money with an unparalleled grace\nand engaging mien, all who received it fixed their eyes upon him;\nand after they had a full view of his face, they found him so\nhandsome that they could not withdraw their attention.\n\nAt last they came to the gates of the vizier who little thought\nhis nephew was so near. The doorkeepers, to prevent any disorder,\nkept back all the slaves that carried torches, and would not\nadmit them. Buddir ad Deen was likewise refused; but the\nmusicians, who had free entrance, stood still, and protested they\nwould not go in, if they hindered him from accompanying them. \"He\nis not one of the slaves'\" said they; \"look upon him, and you\nwill soon be satisfied. He is certainly a young stranger, who is\ncurious to see the ceremonies observed at marriages in this\ncity;\" and saying thus, they put him in the midst of them, and\ncarried him with them in spite of the porters. They took his\ntorch out of his hand, gave it to the first they met, and having\nbrought him into the hall, placed him at the right hand of the\nhump-backed bridegroom, who sat near the vizier's daughter on a\nthrone most richly adorned.\n\nShe appeared very lovely, but in her face there was nothing to be\nseen but vexation and grief. The cause of this was easily to be\nguessed, when she had by her side a bridegroom so very deformed,\nand so unworthy of her love. The nuptial seat was in the midst of\nan estrade. The ladies of the emirs, viziers, those of the\nsultan's bed-chamber, and several other ladies of the court and\ncity, were placed on each side, a little lower, every one\naccording to her rank, and richly dressed, holding a large wax\ntaper in her hands.\n\nWhen they saw Buddir ad Deen Houssun, all fixed their eyes upon\nhim, and admiring his shape, his behaviour, and the beauty of his\nface, they could not forbear looking upon him. When he was seated\nevery one deft their seats, came near him to have a full view of\nhis face, and all found themselves moved with love and\nadmiration.\n\nThe disparity between Buddir ad Deen Houssun and the hump-backed\ngroom, who made such a contemptible figure, occasioned great\nmurmuring among the company; insomuch that the ladies cried out,\n\"We must give our bride to this handsome young gentleman, and not\nto this ugly humpback.\" Nor did they rest here, but uttered\nimprecations against the sultan, who, abusing his absolute power,\nwould unite ugliness and beauty together. They also mocked the\nbridegroom, so as to put him out of countenance, to the great\nsatisfaction of the spectators, whose shouts for some time put a\nstop to the concert of music in the hall. At last the musicians\nbegan again, and the women who had dressed the bride surrounded\nher.\n\nEach time that the bride retired to change her dress, she on her\nreturn passed by hump-back without giving him one look, and went\ntowards Buddir ad Deen, before whom she presented herself in her\nnew attire. On this occasion, Buddir ad Deen, according to the\ninstructions given him by the genie, failed not to put his hands\nin his purse, and pulled out handfuls of sequins, which he\ndistributed among the women that followed the bride. Nor did he\nforget the players and dancers, but also threw money to them. It\nwas pleasant to see how they pushed one another to gather it up.\nThey shewed themselves thankful for his liberality.\n\nWhen the ceremony of changing habits was passed, the music ceased\nand the company retired. The bride repaired to the nuptial\nchamber, whither her attendants followed to undress her, and none\nremained in the hall but the hump-back groom, Buddir ad Deen, and\nsome of the domestics.\n\nHump-back, who was enraged at Buddir ad Deen, suspecting him to\nbe his rival, gave him a cross look, and said, \"And thou, what\ndost thou wait for? Why art thou not gone as well as the rest?\nDepart!\" Buddir ad Deen having no pretence to stay, withdrew, not\nknowing what to do with himself. But before he got out of the\nvestibule, the genie and the perie met and stopped him. \"Whither\nare you going?\" said the perie; \"stay, hump-back is not in the\nhall, return, and introduce yourself into the bride's chamber. As\nsoon as you are alone with her, tell her boldly that you are her\nhusband, that the sultan's intention was only to make sport with\nthe groom. In the mean time we will take care that the hump-back\nshall not return, and let nothing hinder your passing the night\nwith your bride, for she is yours and not his.\"\n\nWhile the perie thus encouraged Buddir ad Deen, and instructed\nhim how he should behave himself, hump-back had really gone out\nof the room for a moment. The genie went to him in the shape of a\nmonstrous cat, mewing at a most fearful rate. Hump-back called to\nthe cat, he clapped his hands to drive her away, but instead of\nretreating, she stood upon her hinder feet, staring with her eyes\nlike fire, looking fiercely at him, mewing louder than she did at\nfirst, and increasing in size till she was as large as an ass. At\nthis sight, hump-back would have cried out for help, but his fear\nwas so great, that he stood gaping and could not utter one word.\nThat he might have no time to recover, the genie changed himself\nimmediately into a large buffalo, and in this stripe called to\nhim, with a voice that redoubled his fear, \"Thou hump-backed\nvillain!\" At these words the affrighted groom cast himself upon\nthe ground, and covering his face with his vest, that he might\nnot see this dreadful beast, \"Sovereign prince of buffaloes,\"\nsaid he, \"what is it you want of me?\" \"Woe be to thee,\" replied\nthe genie, \"hast thou the presumption to venture to marry my\nmistress?\" \"O my lord,\" said hump-back, \"I pray you to pardon me,\nif I am guilty, it is through ignorance. I did not know that this\nlady had a buffalo to her sweetheart: command me in anything you\nplease, I give you my oath that I am ready to obey you.\" \"By\ndeath,\" replied the genie; \"if thou goest out from hence, or\nspeakest a word till the sun rises, I will crush thy head to\npieces. I warn thee to obey, for if thou hast the impudence to\nreturn, it shall cost thee thy life.\" When the genie had done\nspeaking, he transformed himself into the shape of a man, took\nhump-back by the legs, and after having set him against the wall\nwith his head downwards, \"If thou stir,\" said he, \"before the sun\nrise, as I have told thee already, I will take thee by the heels\nagain, and dash thy head in a thousand pieces against the wall.\"\n\nTo return to Buddir ad Deen. Prompted by the genie and the\npresence of the perie, he returned to the hall, from whence he\nslips into the bride-chamber, where he sat down, expecting the\nsuccess of his adventure. After a while the bride arrived,\nconducted by an old matron, who came no farther than the door,\nwithout looking in to see whether it were hump-back or another\nthat was there, and then retired.\n\nThe beautiful bride was agreeably surprised to find instead of\nhump-back a handsome youth, who gracefully addressed her. \"What!\nmy dear friend,\" said she, \"by your being here at this time of\nnight you must be my husband's comrade?\" \"No, madam,\" said Buddir\nad Deen, \"I am of another quality than that ugly hump-back.\"\n\"But,\" said she, \"you do not consider that you speak degradingly\nof my husband.\" \"He your husband,\" replied he: \"can you retain\nthose thoughts so long? Be convinced of your mistake, for so much\nbeauty must never be sacrificed to the most contemptible of\nmankind. It is I that am the happy mortal for whom it is\nreserved. The sultan had a mind to make himself merry, by putting\nthis trick upon the vizier your father, but he chose me to be\nyour real husband. You might have observed how the ladies, the\nmusicians, the dancers, your women, and all the servants of your\nfamily, were pleased with this comedy. We have sent hump-back to\nhis stable again.\"\n\nAt this discourse the vizier's daughter (who was more like one\ndead than alive when she came into the bride-chamber) put on a\ngay air, which made her so handsome, that Buddir ad Deen was\ncharmed with her graces.\n\n\"I did not expect,\" said she, \"to meet with so pleasing a\nsurprise; and I had condemned myself to live unhappy all my days.\nBut my good fortune is so much the greater, that I possess in you\na man worthy of my tenderest affection.\"\n\nBuddir ad Deen, overjoyed to see himself possessor of so many\ncharms, retired with his bride, and laid his vesture aside, with\nthe bag that he had from the Jew; which, notwithstanding all the\nmoney he had dispersed, was still full.\n\nTowards morning, while the two lovers were asleep, the genie, who had\nmet again with the perie, said, \"It is time to finish what we have so\nsuccessfully carried on; let us not be overtaken by day-light, which\nwill soon appear; go you and bring off the young man again without\nawaking him.\"\n\nThe perie went into the bed-chamber where the two lovers were\nfast asleep, took up Buddir ad Deen in his under vest and\ndrawers; and in company with the genie with wonderful swiftness\nfled away with him to the gates of Damascus in Syria, where they\narrived just at the time when the officers of the mosques,\nappointed for that end, were calling the people to prayers at\nbreak of day. The perie laid Buddir ad Deen softly on the ground,\nclose by the gate, and departed with the genie.\n\nThe gate of the city being opened, and many people assembled,\nthey were surprised to see a youth lying in his shirt and drawers\nupon the ground. One said, \"He has been hard put to it to get\naway from his mistress, that he could not get time to put on his\nclothes.\" \"Look,\" said another, \"how people expose themselves;\nsure enough he has spent most part of the night in drinking with\nhis friends, till he has got drunk, and then, perhaps, having\noccasion to go out, instead of returning, is come this length,\nand not having his senses about him, was overtaken with sleep.\"\nOthers were of another opinion; but nobody could guess what had\nbeen the real occasion of his coming thither.\n\nA small puff of wind happening to blow at this time, uncovered\nhis breast, which was whiter than snow. Every one being struck\nwith admiration at the fineness of his complexion, they spoke so\nloud that they awaked him.\n\nHis surprise was as great as theirs, when he found himself at the\ngate of a city where he had never been before, and encompassed by\na crowd of people gazing at him. \"Inform me,\" said he, \"for God's\nsake, where I am, and what you would have?\" One of the crowd\nspoke to him saying, \"Young man, the gates of the city were just\nnow opened, and as we came out we found you lying here in this\ncondition: have you lain here all night? and do not you know that\nyou are at one of the gates of Damascus?\" \"At one of the gates of\nDamascus!\" answered Buddir ad Deen, \"surely you mock me. When I\nlay down to sleep last night I was at Cairo.\" When he had said\nthis, some of the people, moved with compassion for him,\nexclaimed, \"It is a pity that such a handsome young man should\nhave lost his senses;\" and so went away.\n\n\"My son,\" said an old man to him, \"you know not what you say. How\nis it possible that you, being this morning at Damascus, could be\nlast night at Cairo?\" \"It is true,\" said Buddir ad Deen, \"and I\nswear to you, that I was all day yesterday at Bussorah.\" He had\nno sooner said this than all the people fell into a fit of\nlaughter, and cried out, \"He's a fool, he's a madman.\" There were\nsome, however, that pitied him because of his youth; and one\namong the company said to him, \"My son, you must certainly be\ncrazed, you do not consider what you say. Is it possible that a\nman could yesterday be at Bussorah, the same night at Cairo, and\nthis morning at Damascus? Surely you are asleep still, come rouse\nup your spirits.\" \"What I say,\" answered Buddir ad Deen Houssun,\n\"is so true that last night I was married in the city of Cairo.\"\nAll those who laughed before, could not forbear again at this\ndeclaration. \"Recollect yourself,\" said the same person who spoke\nbefore; \"you must have dreamt all this, and the fancy still\npossesses your brain.\" \"I am sensible of what I say,\" answered\nthe young man. \"Pray can you tell me how it was possible for me\nto go in a dream to Cairo, where I am very certain I was in\nperson, and where my bride was seven times brought before me,\neach time dressed in a different habit, and where I saw an ugly\nhump backed fellow, to whom they intended to give her? Besides, I\nwant to know what is become of my vest, my turban, and the bag of\nsequins I had at Cairo?\"\n\nThough he assured them that all these things were matters of\nfact, yet they could not forbear to laugh at him: which put him\ninto such confusion, that he knew not what to think of all those\nadventures.\n\nAfter Buddir ad Deen Houssun had confidently affirmed all that he\nsaid to be true, he rose up to go into the town, and every one\nwho followed him called out, \"A madman, a fool.\" Upon this some\nlooked out at their windows, some came to their doors, and others\njoined with those that were about him, calling out as they did,\n\"A madman;\" but not knowing for what. In this perplexity the\naffrighted young man happened to come before a pastry-cook's\nshop, and went into it to avoid the rabble.\n\nThis pastry-cook had formerly been captain to a troop of Arabian\nrobbers, who plundered the caravans; and though he was become a\ncitizen of Damascus, where he behaved himself to every one's\nsatisfaction, yet he was dreaded by all who knew him; wherefore,\nas soon as he came out to the rabble who followed Buddir ad Deen,\nthey dispersed.\n\nThe pastry-cook asked him who he was, and what brought him\nthither. Buddir ad Deen told him all, not concealing his birth,\nnor the death of his father the grand vizier. He afterwards gave\nhim an account why he had left Bussorah; how, after he had fallen\nasleep the night following upon his father's tomb, he found\nhimself when he awoke at Cairo, where he had married a lady; and\nat last, in what amazement he was, when he found himself at\nDamascus, without being able to penetrate into all those\nwonderful adventures.\n\n\"Your history is one of the most surprising,\" said the pastry-cook;\n\"but if you will follow my advice, you will let no man know those\nmatters you have revealed to me, but patiently wait till heaven thinks\nfit to put an end to your misfortunes. You shall be welcome to stay\nwith me till then; and as I have no children, I will own you for my\nson, if you consent; after you are so adopted, you may freely walk the\ncity, without being exposed any more to the insults of the rabble.\"\n\nThough this adoption was below the son of a grand vizier, Buddir ad\nDeen was glad to accept of the pastry-cook's proposal, judging it the\nbest thing he could do, considering his circumstances. The cook\nclothed him, called for witnesses, and went before a notary, where he\nacknowledged him for his son. After this, Buddir ad Deen lived with\nhim under the name of Houssun, and learned the pastry-trade.\n\nWhile this passed at Damascus, the daughter of Shumse ad Deen\nawoke, and finding Buddir ad Deen gone, supposed he had risen\nsoftly for fear of disturbing her, but would soon return. As she\nwas in expectation of him, her father the vizier, (who was vexed\nat the affront put upon him by the sultan) came and knocked at\nher chamber-door, to bewail her sad destiny. He called her by her\nname, and she knowing him by his voice, immediately got up, and\nopened the door. She kissed his hand, and received him with so\nmuch pleasure in her countenance, that she surprised the vizier\nwho expected to find her drowned in tears, and as much grieved as\nhimself. \"Unhappy wretch!\" said he in a passion, \"do you appear\nbefore me thus? after the hideous sacrifice you have just\nconsummated, can you see me with so much satisfaction?\"\n\nThe new bride seeing her father angry at her pleasant\ncountenance, said to him, \"For God's sake, sir, do not reproach\nme wrongfully; it is not the hump-back fellow, whom I abhor more\nthan death, it is not that monster I have married. Every body\nlaughed him to scorn, and put him so out of countenance, that he\nwas forced to run away and hide himself, to make room for a noble\nyouth, who is my real husband.\" \"What fable do you tell me?\" said\nShumse ad Deen, roughly. \"What! Did not crook-back lie with you\ntonight?\" \"No, sir,\" said she, \"it was the youth I mentioned, who\nhas large eyes and black eyebrows.\" At these words the vizier,\nlost all patience, and exclaimed in anger, \"Ah, wicked woman! you\nwill make me distracted!\" \"It is you, father,\" said she, \"that\nput me out of my senses by your incredulity.\" \"So, it is not\ntrue,\" replied the vizier, \"that hump-back----\" \"Let us talk no\nmore of hump-back,\" said she, \"a curse upon hump-back. Father, I\nassure you once more, that I did not bed with him, but with my\ndear spouse, who, I believe, is not far off.\"\n\nShumse ad Deen went out to seek him, but, instead of seeing\nBuddir ad Deen, was surprised to find hump-back with his head on\nthe ground, and his heels uppermost, as the genie had set him\nagainst the wall. \"What is the meaning of this?\" said he; \"who\nplaced you thus?\" Crookback, knowing it to be the vizier\nanswered, \"Alas! alas! it is you then that would marry me to the\nmistress of a genie in the form of a buffalo.\"\n\nShumse ad Deen Mahummud, when he heard hump-back speak thus,\nthought he was raving, bade him move, and stand upon his legs. \"I\nwill take care how I stir,\" said hump-back, \"unless the sun be\nrisen. Know, sir, that when I came last night to your palace,\nsuddenly a black cat appeared to me, and in an instant grew as\nbig as a buffalo. I have not forgotten what he enjoined me,\ntherefore you may depart, and leave me here.\" The vizier instead\nof going away, took him by the heels, and made him stand up, when\nhump-back ran off, without looking behind him; and coming to the\npalace presented himself to the sultan, who laughed heartily when\ninformed how the genie had served him.\n\nShumse ad Deen returned to his daughter's chamber, more\nastonished than before. \"My abused daughter,\" said he, \"can you\ngive me no farther light in this miraculous affair?\" \"Sir,\"\nreplied she, \"I can give you no other account than I have done\nalready. Here are my husband's clothes, which he put off last\nnight; perhaps you may find something among them that may solve\nyour doubt.\" She then shewed him Buddir ad Deen's turban, which\nhe examined narrowly on all sides, saying, \"I should take this to\nbe a vizier's turban, if it were not made after the Bussorah\nfashion.\" But perceiving something to be sewed between the stuff\nand the lining, he called for scissors, and having unripped it,\nfound the paper which Noor ad Deen Ali had given to his son upon\nhis deathbed, and which Buddir ad Deen Houssun had sewn in his\nturban for security.\n\nShumse ad Deen having opened the paper, knew his brother's hand,\nand found this superscription, \"For my son Buddir ad Deen\nHoussun.\" Before he could make any reflections upon it, his\ndaughter delivered him the bag, that lay under the garments,\nwhich he likewise opened, and found it full of sequins: for,\nnotwithstanding all the liberality of Buddir ad Deen, it was\nstill kept full by the genie and perie. He read the following\nwords upon a note in the bag: \"A thousand sequins belonging to\nIsaac the Jew.\" And these lines underneath, which the Jew had\nwritten, \"Delivered to my lord Buddir ad Deen Houssun, for the\ncargo of the first of those ships that formerly belonged to the\nnoble vizier, his father, of blessed memory, sold to me upon its\narrival in this place.\" He had scarcely read these words, when he\ngroaned heavily, and fainted away.\n\nThe vizier Shumse ad Deen being recovered from his fit by the aid\nof his daughter, and the women she called to her assistance;\n\"Daughter,\" said he, \"do not alarm yourself at this accident,\noccasioned by what is scarcely credible. Your bridegroom is your\ncousin, the son of my beloved and deceased brother. The thousand\nsequins in the bag reminds me of a quarrel I had with him, and is\nwithout the dowry he gives you. God be praised for all things,\nand particularly for this miraculous adventure, which\ndemonstrates his almighty power.\" Then looking again upon his\nbrother's writing, he kissed it several times, shedding abundance\nof tears.\n\nHe looked over the book from beginning to end. In it he found the\ndate of his brother's arrival at Bussorah, of his marriage, and\nof the birth of his son; and when he compared them with the day\nof his own marriage, and the birth of his daughter at Cairo, he\nwondered at the exact coincidence which appeared in every\ncircumstance.\n\nThe happy discovery put him into such a transport of joy, that he\ntook the book, with the ticket of the bag, and shewed them to the\nsultan, who pardoned what was past, and was so much pleased with\nthe relation of this adventure, that he caused it with all its\ncircumstances to be put in writing for the information of\nposterity.\n\nMeanwhile, the vizier. Shumse ad Deen could not comprehend the\nreason why his nephew did not appear; he expected him every\nmoment, and was impatient to receive him to his arms. After he\nhad waited seven days in vain, he searched through all Cairo, but\ncould procure no intelligence of him, which threw him into great\nperplexity. \"This is the strangest occurrence,\" said he, \"that\never happened.\" In order to certify it, he thought fit to draw up\nin writing with his own hand an account of the manner in which\nthe wedding had been solemnized; how the hall and his daughter's\nbed-chamber were furnished, with the other circumstances. He\nlikewise made the turban, the bag, and the rest of Buddir ad\nDeen's raiment into a bundle, and locked them up.\n\nAfter some days were past, the vizier's daughter perceived\nherself pregnant, and after nine months was brought to bed of a\nson. A nurse was provided for the child, besides other women and\nslaves to wait upon him; and his grandfather called him Agib.\n\nWhen young Agib had attained the age of seven, the vizier,\ninstead of teaching him to read at home, put him to school with a\nmaster who was in great esteem; and two slaves were ordered to\nwait upon him. Agib used to play with his schoolfellows, and as\nthey were all inferior to him in rank, they shewed him great\nrespect, according to the example of their master, who many times\nwould pass by faults in him that he would correct in his other\npupils. This indulgence spoiled Agib; he became proud and\ninsolent, would have his play-fellows bear all from him, and\nwould submit to nothing from them, but be master every where; and\nif any took the liberty to thwart him, he would call them a\nthousand names, and many times beat them.\n\nIn short, all the scholars grew weary of his insolence, and\ncomplained of him to their master. He answered, \"That they must\nhave patience.\" But when he saw that Agib grew still more and\nmore overbearing, and occasioned him much trouble, \"Children,\"\nsaid he to his scholars, \"I find Agib is a little insolent\ngentleman; I will shew you how to mortify him, so that he shall\nnever torment you any more. Nay, I believe it will make him leave\nthe school. When he comes again to-morrow, place yourselves round\nhim, and let one of you call out, 'Come, let us play, but upon\ncondition, that every one who desires to play shall tell his own\nname, and the names of his father and mother; they who refuse\nshall be esteemed bastards, and not be suffered to play in our\ncompany.'\"\n\nNext day when they were gathered together, they failed not to\nfollow their master's instructions. They placed themselves round\nAgib, and one of them called out, \"Let us begin a play, but on\ncondition that he who cannot tell his own name, and that of his\nfather and mother, shall not play at all.\" They all cried out,\nand so did Agib, \"We consent.\" Then he that spoke first asked\nevery one the question, and all fulfilled the condition except\nAgib, who answered, \"My name is Agib, my mother is called the\nlady of beauty, and my father Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, vizier to\nthe sultan.\"\n\nAt these words all the children cried out, \"Agib, what do you\nsay? That is not the name of your father, but your grandfather.\"\n\"A curse on you,\" said he in a passion. \"What! dare you say that\nthe vizier is not my father?\" \"No, no,\" cried they with great\nlaughter, \"he is your grandfather, and you shall not play with\nus. Nay we will take care how we come into your company.\" Having\nspoken thus, they all left him, scoffing him, and laughing among\nthemselves, which mortified Agib so much that he wept.\n\nThe schoolmaster who was near, and heard all that passed, came\nup, and speaking to Agib, said, \"Agib, do not you know that the\nvizier is not your father, but your grandfather, and the father\nof your mother the lady of beauty? We know not the name of your\nfather any more than you do. We only know that the sultan was\ngoing to marry your mother to one of his grooms, a humpback\nfellow; but a genie lay with her. This is hard upon you, but\nought to teach you to treat your schoolfellows with less\nhaughtiness.\"\n\nAgib being nettled at this, ran hastily out of the school. He\nwent directly sobbing to his mother's chamber, who being alarmed\nto see him thus grieved, asked the reason. He could not answer\nfor tears, so great was his mortification, and it was long ere he\ncould speak plain enough to repeat what had been said to him, and\nhad occasioned his sorrow.\n\nWhen he came to himself. \"Mother,\" said he \"for the love of God\nbe pleased to tell me who is my father?\" \"My son,\" she replied,\n\"Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, who every day caresses you so kindly,\nis your father.\" \"You do not tell me truth,\" returned Agib; \"he\nis your father, and none of mine. But whose son am I?\" At this\nquestion, the lady of beauty calling to mind her wedding night,\nwhich had been succeeded by a long widowhood, began to shed\ntears, repining bitterly at the loss of so handsome a husband as\nBuddir ad Deen.\n\nWhilst the lady of beauty and Agib were both weeping, the vizier\nentered, who demanded the reason of their sorrow. The lady told\nhim the shame Agib had undergone at school, which so much\naffected the vizier that he joined his tears with theirs, and\njudging from this that the misfortune which had happened to his\ndaughter was the common discourse of the town, he was mortified\nto the quick.\n\nBeing thus afflicted, he went to the sultan's palace, and falling\nprostrate at his feet, most humbly intreated permission to make a\njourney in search of his nephew Buddir ad Deen Houssun. For he\ncould not bear any longer that the people of the city should\nbelieve a genie had disgraced his daughter.\n\nThe sultan was much concerned at the vizier's affliction,\napproved his resolution, and gave him leave to travel. He caused\na passport also to be written for him, requesting in the\nstrongest terms all kings and princes in whose dominions Buddir\nad Deen might sojourn, to grant that the vizier might conduct him\nto Cairo.\n\nShumse ad Deen, not knowing how to express his gratitude to the\nsultan, fell down before him a second time, while the floods of\ntears he shed bore sufficient testimony to his feelings. At last,\nhaving wished the sultan all manner of prosperity, he took his\nleave and returned to his house, where he disposed every thing\nfor his journey; and the preparations were carried on with so\nmuch diligence, that in four days after he left the city,\naccompanied with his daughter the lady of beauty, and his\ngrandson Agib.\n\nThey travelled nineteen days without intermission; but on the\ntwentieth, arriving at a pleasant mead, a small distance from the\ngate of Damascus, they halted, and pitched their tents upon the\nbanks of a river which fertilizes the vicinity, and runs through\nthe town, one of the pleasantest in Syria, once the capital of\nthe caliphs; and celebrated for its elegant buildings, the\npoliteness of its inhabitants, and the abundance of its\nconveniences.\n\nThe vizier declared he would stay in that pleasant place two\ndays, and pursue his journey on the third. In the mean time he\ngave his retinue leave to go to Damascus; and almost all of them\nmade use of it: some influenced by curiosity to see a city they\nhad heard so much of, and others by the opportunity of vending\nthe Egyptian goods they had brought with them, or buying stuffs,\nand the rarities of the country. The beautiful lady desiring her\nson Agib might share in the satisfaction of viewing that\ncelebrated city, ordered the black eunuch, who acted in quality\nof his governor, to conduct him thither.\n\nAgib, in magnificent apparel, went with the eunuch, who had a\nlarge cane in his hand. They had no sooner entered the city, than\nAgib, fair and glorious as the day, attracted the eyes of the\npeople. Some got out of their houses to gain a nearer and\nnarrower view of him; others put their heads out of the windows,\nand those who passed along the street were not satisfied in\nstopping to look upon him, but kept pace with him, to prolong the\npleasure of the agreeable sight: in fine, there was not a person\nthat did not admire him, and bestow a thousand benedictions on\nthe father and mother that had given being to so fine a child. By\nchance the eunuch and he passed by the shop of Buddir ad Deen\nHoussun, and there the crowd was so great, that they were forced\nto halt.\n\nThe pastry-cook who had adopted Buddir ad Deen Houssun had died\nsome years before, and left him his shop and all his property,\nand he conducted the pastry trade so dexterously, that he had\ngained great reputation in Damascus. Buddir ad Deen seeing so\ngreat a crowd before his door, who were gazing so attentively\nupon Agib and the black eunuch, stepped out to see them himself.\n\nHaving cast his eyes upon Agib, Buddir ad Deen found himself\nmoved, he knew not how, nor for what reason. He was not struck\nlike the people with the brilliant beauty of the boy; another\ncause unknown to him gave rise to the uneasiness and emotion he\nfelt. It was the force of blood that wrought in this tender\nfather; who, laying aside his business, made up to Agib, and with\nan engaging air, said to him: \"My little lord, who hast won my\nsoul, be so kind as to come into my shop, and eat a bit of such\nfare as I have; that I may have the pleasure of admiring you at\nmy ease.\" These words he pronounced with such tenderness, that\ntears trickled from his eyes. Little Agib was moved when he saw\nhis emotion; and turning to the eunuch, said, \"This honest man\nspeaks in such an affectionate manner, that I cannot avoid\ncomplying with his request; let us step into his house, and taste\nhis pastry.\" \"It would be a fine thing truly,\" replied the slave,\n\"to see the son of a vizier go into a pastry-cook's shop to eat;\ndo not imagine that I will suffer any such thing.\" \"Alas! my\nlord,\" cried Buddir ad Deen, \"it is cruelty to trust the conduct\nof you in the hands of a person who treats you so harshly.\" Then\napplying himself to the eunuch, \"My good friend,\" continued he,\n\"pray do not hinder this young lord from granting me the favour I\nask; do not put such mortification upon me: rather do me the\nhonour to walk in along with him, and by so doing, you will let\nthe world know, that, though your outside is brown like a\nchestnut, your inside is as white. Do you know,\" continued he,\n\"that I am master of the secret to make you white, instead of\nbeing black as you are?\" This set the eunuch a laughing, and then\nhe asked what that secret was. \"I will tell you,\" replied Buddir\nad Deen, who repeated some verses in praise of black eunuchs,\nimplying, that it was by their ministry that the honour of\nprinces and of all great men was secured. The eunuch was so\ncharmed with these verses, that, without further hesitation, he\nsuffered Agib to go into the shop, and went in with him himself.\n\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun was overjoyed at having obtained what he\nhad so passionately desired, and, falling again to the work he\nhad discontinued \"I was making,\" said he, \"cream-tarts; and you\nmust, with submission, eat of them. I am persuaded you will find\nthem good; for my own mother, who made them incomparably well,\ntaught me, and the people send to buy them of me from all\nquarters of the town.\" This said, he took a cream-tart out of the\noven, and after strewing upon it some pomegranate kernels and\nsugar, set it before Agib, who found it very delicious.\n\nAnother was served up to the eunuch, and he gave the same\njudgment.\n\nWhile they were both eating, Buddir ad Deen viewed Agib very\nattentively; and after looking upon him again and again, it came\ninto his mind that possibly he might have such a son by his\ncharming wife, from whom he had been so soon and so cruelly\nseparated; and the very thought drew tears from his eyes. He\nintended to have put some questions to little Agib about his\njourney to Damascus; but the child had no time to gratify his\ncuriosity, for the eunuch pressing him to return to his\ngrandfather's tent, took him away as soon as he had done eating.\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun, not contented with looking after him,\nshut up his shop immediately, and followed him.\n\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun ran after Agib and the eunuch, and\novertook them before they had reached the gate of the city. The\neunuch perceiving he followed them, was extremely surprised: \"You\nimpertinent fellow,\" said he, with an angry tone, \"what do you\nwant?\" \"My dear friend,\" replied Buddir ad Deen, \"do not trouble\nyourself; I have a little business out of town, and I must needs\ngo and look after it.\" This answer, however, did not at all\nsatisfy the eunuch, who turning to Agib, said, \"This is all owing\nto you; I foresaw I should repent of my complaisance; you would\nneeds go into the man's shop; it was not wisely done in me to\ngive you leave.\" \"Perhaps,\" replied Agib, \"he has real business\nout of town, and the road is free to every body.\" While this\npassed they kept walking together, without looking behind them,\ntill they came near the vizier's tents, upon which they turned\nabout to see if Buddir ad Deen followed them. Agib, perceiving he\nwas within two paces of him, reddened and whitened alternately,\naccording to the different emotions that affected him. He was\nafraid the grand vizier his grandfather should come to know he\nhad been in the pastry shop, and had eaten there. In this dread,\nhe took up a large stone that lay at his foot and throwing it at\nBuddir ad Deen, hit him in the forehead, and wounded him so that\nhis face was covered with blood. The eunuch gave Buddir ad Deen\nto understand, he had no reason to complain of a mischance that\nhe had merited and brought upon himself.\n\nBuddir ad Deen turned towards the city staunching the blood of\nthe wound with his apron, which he had not put off. \"I was a\nfool,\" said he within himself, \"for leaving my house, to take so\nmuch pains about this brat; for doubtless he would never have\nused me after this manner, if he had not thought I had some ill\ndesign against him.\" When he got home, he had his wound dressed,\nand softened the sense of his mischance by the reflection that\nthere was an infinite number of people upon the earth, who were\nyet more unfortunate than he.\n\nBuddir ad Deen kept on the pastry-trade at Damascus, and his\nuncle Shumse ad Deen Mahummud went from thence three days after\nhis arrival. He went by way of Emaus, Hanah, and Halep; then\ncrossed the Euphrates, and after passing through Mardin,\nMoussoul, Singier, Diarbeker, and several other towns, arrived at\nlast at Bussorah. Immediately after his arrival he desired\naudience of the sultan, who was no sooner informed of his quality\nthan he admitted him to his presence, received him very\nfavourably, and inquired the occasion of his journey to Bussorah.\n\"Sire,\" replied the vizier \"I come to know what is become of the\nson of my brother, who has had the honour to serve your majesty.\"\n\"Noor ad Deen Ali,\" said the sultan, \"has been long dead; as for\nhis son, all I can tell you of him is, that he disappeared\nsuddenly, about two months after his father's death, and nobody\nhas seen him since, notwithstanding all the inquiry I ordered to\nbe made. But his mother, who is the daughter of one of my\nviziers, is still alive.\" Shumse ad Deen Mahummud desired leave\nof the sultan to take her to Egypt; and having obtained\npermission, without waiting till the next day, inquired after her\nplace of abode, and that very hour went to her house, accompanied\nwith his daughter and his grandson.\n\nThe widow of Noor ad Deen Ali resided still in the same place\nwhere her husband had lived. It was a stately fabric, adorned\nwith marble pillars: but Shumse ad Deen did not stop to view it.\nAt his entry he kissed the gate, and the piece of marble upon\nwhich his brother's name was written in letters of gold. He asked\nto speak with his sister-in-law, and was told by her servants,\nthat she was in a small building covered by a dome, to which they\ndirected in the middle of a very spacious court. This tender\nmother used to spend the greatest part of the day and night in\nthat room which she had built as a representation of the tomb of\nher son Buddir ad Deen Houssun, whom she supposed to be dead\nafter so long an absence. She was pouring tears over his memorial\nwhen Shumse ad Deen entering, found her buried in the deepest\naffliction.\n\nHe made his compliment, and after beseeching her to suspend her\ntears and sighs, informed her he had the honour to be her\nbrother-in-law, and acquainted her with the reason of his journey\nfrom Cairo to Bussorah.\n\nShumse ad Deen Mahummud, after acquainting his sister-in-law with\nall that had passed at Cairo on his daughter's wedding-night, and\ninforming her of the surprise occasioned by the discovery of the\npaper sewed up in Buddir ad Deen's turban, presented to her Agib\nand the beautiful lady.\n\nThe widow of Noor ad Deen, who had still continued sitting like a\nwoman dejected, and weaned from the affairs of this world, no\nsooner understood by his discourse that her dear son, whom she\nlamented so bitterly, might still be alive, than she arose, and\nrepeatedly embraced the beautiful lady and her grandchild Agib;\nand perceiving in the youth the features of Buddir ad Deen, drops\ntears different from what she had been so long accustomed to\nshed. She could not forbear kissing the youth, who, for his part,\nreceived her embraces with all the demonstrations of joy he was\ncapable of shewing. \"Sister,\" said Shumse ad Deen, \"it is time to\ndry your tears, and suppress your sighs; you must think of going\nwith us to Egypt. The sultan of Bussorah gives me leave to carry\nyou thither, and I doubt not you will consent. I am in hopes we\nshall at last find out your son my nephew; and if we do, the\nhistory of him, of you, of my own daughter, and of my own\nadventures, will deserve to be committed to writing, and\ntransmitted to posterity.\"\n\nThe widow of Noor ad Deen heard this proposal with pleasure, and\nordered preparations to be made for her departure. While they\nwere making, Shumse ad Deen desired a second audience, and after\ntaking leave of the sultan, who dismissed him with ample marks of\nrespect, and gave him a considerable present for himself, and\nanother of great value for the sultan of Egypt, he set out from\nBussorah once more for the city of Damascus.\n\nWhen he arrived in the neighbourhood of Damascus, he ordered his\ntents to be pitched without the gate, at which he designed to\nenter the city; and gave out he would tarry there three days, to\ngive his suit rest, and buy up curiosities to present to the\nsultan of Egypt.\n\nWhile he was employed in selecting the finest stuffs which the\nprincipal merchants had brought to his tents, Agib begged the\nblack eunuch his governor to carry him through the city, in order\nto see what he had not had leisure to view before; and to inquire\nwhat was become of the pastry cook whom he had wounded. The\neunuch complying with his request, went along with him towards\nthe city, after leave obtained of the beautiful lady his mother.\n\nThey entered Damascus by the Paradise-gate, which lay next to the\ntents of the vizier They walked through the great squares and the\npublic places where the richest goods were sold, and took a view of\nthe superb mosque at the hour of prayer, between noon and sun-set.\nWhen they passed by the shop of Buddir ad Deen Houssun, whom they\nstill found employed in making cream tarts, \"I salute you sir,\" said\nAgib; \"do you know me? Do you remember you ever saw me before?\" Buddir\nad Deen hearing these words, fixed his eyes upon him, and recognizing\nhim (such was the surprising effect of paternal love!), felt the same\nemotion as when he saw him first; he was confused, and instead of\nmaking any answer, continued a long time without uttering a word. At\nlength, recovering himself, \"My lord,\" said he, \"be so kind as to come\nonce more with your governor into my house, and taste a cream-tart. I\nbeg your lordship's pardon, for the trouble I gave you in following\nyou out of town; I was at that time not myself, I did not know what I\ndid. You drew me after you, and the violence of the attraction was so\nsoft, that I could not withstand it.\"\n\nAgib, astonished at what Buddir ad Deen said, replied: \"There is\nan excess in the kindness you express, and unless you engage\nunder oath not to follow me when I go from hence, I will not\nenter your house. If you give me your promise, and prove a man of\nyour word, I will visit you again to-morrow, since the vizier my\ngrandfather, is still employed in buying up rarities for a\npresent to the sultan of Egypt.\" \"My lord,\" replied Buddir ad\nDeen, \"I will do whatever you would have me.\" This said, Agib and\nthe eunuch went into the shop.\n\nPresently after, Buddir ad Deen set before them a cream-tart,\nthat was full as good as what they had eaten before; \"Come,\" said\nAgib, \"sit down by me, and eat with us.\" Buddir ad Deen sat down,\nand attempted to embrace Agib, as a testimony of the joy he\nconceived upon sitting by him. But Agib pushed him away, desiring\nhim not to be too familiar. Buddir ad Deen obeyed, and repeated\nsome extempore verses in praise of Agib: he did not eat, but made\nit his business to serve his guests. When they had done, he\nbrought them water to wash, and a very white napkin to wipe their\nhands. Then he filled a large china cup with sherbet, and put\nsnow into it; and offering it to Agib, \"This,\" said he, \"is\nsherbet of roses; and I am sure you never tasted better.\" Agib\nhaving drunk of it with pleasure, Buddir ad Deen took the cup\nfrom him, and presented it to the eunuch, who drank it all off at\nonce.\n\nIn fine, Agib and his governor having fared well, returned thanks\nto the pastry-cook for their good entertainment, and moved\nhomewards, it being then late. When they arrived at the tents of\nShumse ad Deen Mahummud, Agib's grandmother received him with\ntransports of joy: her son ran always in her mind, and in\nembracing Agib, the remembrance of him drew tears from her eyes.\n\"Ah, my child!\" said she, \"my joy would be perfect, if I had the\npleasure of embracing your father as I now embrace you.\" She made\nAgib sit by her, and put several questions to him, relating to\nthe walk he had been taking with the eunuch; and when he\ncomplained of being hungry, she gave him a piece of cream-tart,\nwhich she had made for herself, and was indeed very good: she\nlikewise gave some to the eunuch.\n\nAgib no sooner touched the piece of cream-tart that had been set\nbefore him, than he pretended he did not like it, and left it uncut;\nand Shubbaunee (which was the eunuch's name) did the same. The widow\nof Noor ad Deen Ali observed with regret that her grandson did not\nlike the tart. \"What!\" said she, \"does my child thus despise the work\nof my hands? Be it known to you, no one in the world can make such\nbesides myself and your father, whom I taught.\" \"My good mother,\"\nreplied Agib, \"give me leave to tell you, if you do not know how to\nmake better, there is a pastry-cook in this town that outdoes you. We\nwere at his shop, and ate of one much better than yours.\"\n\nOn hearing this, the grandmother, frowning upon the eunuch, said,\n\"How now, Shubbaunee, was the care of my grandchild committed to\nyou, to carry him to eat at pastry-shops like a beggar?\" \"Madam,\"\nreplied the eunuch, \"it is true, we did stop a little while and\ntalked with the pastry-cook, but we did not eat with him.\"\n\"Pardon me,\" said Agib, \"we went into his shop, and there ate a\ncream-tart.\" Upon this, the lady, more incensed against the\neunuch than before, rose in a passion from the table, and running\nto the tent of Shumse ad Deen, informed him of the eunuch's\ncrime; and that in such terms, as tended more to inflame the\nvizier than to dispose him to excuse it.\n\nThe vizier who was naturally passionate, did not fail on this occasion\nto display his anger. He went forthwith to his sister-in-law's tent,\nand said to the eunuch, \"Wretch, have you the impudence to abuse the\ntrust I repose in you?\" Shubbaunee, though sufficiently convicted by\nAgib's testimony, denied the fact still. But the child persisting in\nwhat he had affirmed, \"Grandfather,\" said he, \"I can assure you we not\nonly ate, but that so very heartily, that we have no occasion for\nsupper: besides, the pastry-cook treated us also with a great bowl of\nsherbet.\" \"Well,\" cried Shumse ad Deen, \"after all this, will you\ncontinue to deny that you entered the pastry-cook's house, and ate\nthere?\" Shubbaunee had still the impudence to swear it was not true.\n\"Then you are a liar,\" said the vizier \"I believe my grandchild; but\nafter all, if you can eat up this cream-tart I shall be persuaded you\nhave truth on your side.\"\n\nThough Shubbaunee had crammed himself up to the throat before, he\nagreed to stand that test, and accordingly took a piece of tart;\nbut his stomach rising against it, he was obliged to spit it out\nof his mouth. Yet he still pursued the lie, and pretended he had\nover-eaten himself the day before, and had not recovered his\nappetite. The vizier irritated with all the eunuch's frivolous\npresences, and convinced of his guilt, ordered him to be soundly\nbastinadoed. In undergoing this punishment, the poor wretch\nshrieked out aloud, and at last confessed the truth; \"I own,\"\ncried he, \"that we did eat a cream-tart at the pastry cook's, and\nthat it was much better than that upon the table.\"\n\nThe widow of Noor ad Deen thought it was out of spite to her, and\nwith a desire to mortify her, that Shubbaunee commended the\npastry-cook's tart; and accordingly said, \"I cannot believe the\ncook's tarts are better than mine; I am resolved to satisfy\nmyself upon that head. Where does he live? Go immediately and buy\nme one of his tarts.\" The eunuch repaired to Buddir ad Deen's\nshop, and said, \"Let me have one of your cream-tarts; one of our\nladies wants to taste them.\" Buddir ad Deen chose one of the\nbest, and gave it to the eunuch.\n\nShubbaunee returned speedily to the tents, gave the tart to Noor\nad Deen's widow, who, snatching it greedily, broke a piece off;\nbut no sooner put it to her mouth, than she cried out and swooned\naway. The vizier was extremely surprised at the accident; he\nthrew water upon her face, and was very active in recovering her.\nAs soon as she came to herself, \"My God!\" cried she, \"it must\nneeds be my son, my dear Buddir ad Deen who made this tart.\"\n\nWhen the vizier Shumse ad Deen heard his sister-in-law say, that\nthe maker of the tart, brought by the eunuch, must needs be her\nson, he was overjoyed; but reflecting that his joy might prove\ngroundless, and the conjecture of Noor ad Deen's widow be false,\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"do you think there may not be a pastry-cook in\nthe world, who knows how to make cream-tarts as well as your\nson?\" \"I own,\" replied she, \"there may be pastry-cooks that can\nmake as good tarts as he; but as I make them in a peculiar\nmanner, and only my son was let into the secret, it must\nabsolutely be he that made this. Come, my brother,\" added she in\na transport, \"let us call up mirth and joy; we have at last found\nwhat we have been so long looking for.\" \"Madam,\" said the vizier\nanswer, \"I entreat you to moderate your impatience, for we shall\nquickly know the truth. All we have to do, is to bring the\npastry-cook hither; and then you and my daughter will readily\ndistinguish whether he be your son or not. But you must both be\nconcealed so as to have a view of Buddir ad Deen while he cannot\nsee you; for I would not have our interview and mutual discovery\nhappen at Damascus. My design is to delay the discovery till we\nreturn to Cairo.\"\n\nThis said, he left the ladies in their tent, and retired to his\nown; where he called for fifty of his men, and said to them:\n\"Take each of you a stick in your hands, and follow Shubbaunee,\nwho will conduct you to a pastry-cook in this city. When you\narrive there, break and dash in pieces all you find in the shop:\nif he demand the reason of your outrage, only ask him in return\nif it was not he that made the cream-tart that was brought from\nhis house. If he answer in the affirmative, seize his person,\nfetter him, and bring him along with you; but take care you do\nnot beat him, nor do him the least harm. Go, and lose no time.\"\n\nThe vizier's orders were immediately executed. The detachment,\nconducted by the black eunuch, went with expedition to Buddir ad\nDeen's house, broke in pieces the plates, kettles, copper pans,\nand all the other moveables and utensils they met with, and\ninundated the sherbet-shop with cream and comfits. Buddir ad\nDeen, astonished at the sight, said with a pitiful tone, \"Pray,\ngood people, why do you serve me so? What is the matter? What\nhave I done?\" \"Was it not you,\" said they, \"that sold this eunuch\nthe cream-tart?\" \"Yes,\" replied he, \"I am the man; and who says\nany thing against it? I defy any one to make a better.\" Instead\nof giving him an answer, they continued to break all round them,\nand the oven itself was not spared.\n\nIn the mean time the neighbours took the alarm, and surprised to\nsee fifty armed men committing such a disorder, asked the reason\nof such violence; and Buddir ad Deen said once more to the\nrioters, \"Pray tell me what crime I have committed to deserve\nthis usage?\" \"Was it not you,\" replied they, \"that made the\ncream-tart you sold to the eunuch?\" \"Yes, yes, it was I,\" replied\nhe; \"I maintain it is a good one. I do not deserve this\ntreatment.\" However, without listening to him, they seized his\nperson, and, snatching the cloth off his turban, tied his hands\nwith it behind his back, and, after dragging him by force out of\nhis shop, marched off.\n\nThe mob gathering, from compassion to Buddir ad Deen, took his\npart; but officers from the governor of the city dispersed the\npeople, and favoured the carrying off of Buddir ad Deen, for\nShumse ad Deen Mahummud had in the mean time gone to the\ngovernor's house to acquaint him with the order he had given, and\nto demand the interposition of force to favour the execution; and\nthe governor, who commanded all Syria in the name of the sultan\nof Egypt, was unwilling to refuse any thing to his master's\nvizier.\n\nIt was in vain for Buddir ad Deen to ask those who carried him\noff, what fault had been found with his cream-tart: they gave him\nno answer. In short, they conducted him to the tents, and made\nhim wait there till Shumse ad Deen returned from the governor of\nDamascus.\n\nUpon the vizier's return, the pretended culprit was brought\nbefore him. \"My lord,\" said Buddir ad Deen, with tears in his\neyes, \"pray do me the favour to let me know wherein I have\ndispleased you.\" \"Why, you wretch,\" exclaimed the vizier \"was it\nnot you that made the cream-tart you sent me?\" \"I own I am the\nman,\" replied Buddir ad Deen, \"but pray what crime is that?\" \"I\nwill punish you according to your deserts,\" said Shumse ad Deen,\n\"it shall cost you your life, for sending me such a sorry tart.\"\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed Buddir ad Deen, \"is it a capital crime to make a\nbad cream-tart?\" \"Yes,\" said the vizier \"and you are to expect no\nother usage from me.\"\n\nWhile this interview lasted, the ladies, who were concealed\nbehind curtains, saw Buddir ad Deen, and recognized him,\nnotwithstanding he had been so long absent. They were so\ntransported with joy, that they swooned away; and when they\nrecovered, would fain have run up and fallen upon his neck, but\nthe promise they had made to the vizier of not discovering\nthemselves, restrained the tender emotions of love and of nature.\n\nShumse ad Deen having resolved to set out that night, ordered the\ntents to be struck, and the necessary preparations to be made for\nhis journey. He ordered Buddir ad Deen to be secured in a sort of\ncage, and laid on a camel. The vizier and his retinue began their\nmarch, and travelled the rest of that night, and all the next\nday, without stopping In the evening they halted, and Buddir ad\nDeen was taken out of his cage, in order to be served with the\nnecessary refreshments, but still carefully kept at a distance\nfrom his mother and his wife; and during the whole expedition,\nwhich lasted twenty days, was served in the same manner.\n\nWhen they arrived at Cairo, they encamped in the neighbourhood of\nthe city; Shumse ad Deen called for Buddir ad Deen, and gave\norders, in his presence, to prepare a stake. \"Alas!\" said Buddir\nad Deen, \"what do you mean to do with a stake?\" \"Why, to impale\nyou,\" replied Shumse ad Deen, \"and then to have you carried\nthrough all the quarters of the town, that the people may have\nthe spectacle of a worthless pastry-cook, who makes cream-tarts\nwithout pepper.\" This said, Buddir ad Deen cried out so\nludicrously, that Shumse ad Deen could hardly keep his\ncountenance: \"Alas!\" said he, \"must I suffer a death as cruel as\nit is ignominious, for not putting pepper in a cream-tart?\"\n\n\"How,\" said Buddir ad Deen, \"must I be rifled; must I be imprisoned in\na chest, and at last impaled, and all for not putting pepper in a\ncream-tart? Are these the actions of Moosulmauns, of persons who make\na profession of probity, justice, and good works?\" With these words he\nshed tears, and then renewing his complaint; \"No,\" continued he,\n\"never was a man used so unjustly, nor so severely. Is it possible\nthey should be capable of taking a man's life for not putting pepper\nin a cream-tart? Cursed be all cream-tarts, as well as the hour in\nwhich I was born! Would to God I had died that minute!\"\n\nThe disconsolate Buddir ad Deen did not cease his lamentations;\nand when the stake was brought, cried out bitterly at the horrid\nsight. \"Heaven!\" said he, \"can you suffer me to die an\nignominious and painful death? And all this, for what crime? not\nfor robbery or murder, or renouncing my religion, but for not\nputting pepper in a cream tart.\"\n\nNight being then pretty far advanced, the vizier ordered Buddir\nad Deen to be conveyed again to his cage, saying to him, \"Stay\nthere till to-morrow; the day shall not elapse before I give\norders for your death.\" The chest or cage then was carried away\nand laid upon the camel that had brought it from Damascus: at the\nsame time all the other camels were loaded again; and the vizier\nmounting his horse, ordered the camel that carried his nephew to\nmarch before him, and entered the city with all his suit. After\npassing through several streets, where no one appeared, he\narrived at his palace, where he ordered the chest to be taken\ndown, but not opened till farther orders.\n\nWhile his retinue were unlading the other camels, he took Buddir\nad Deen's mother and his daughter aside; and addressed himself to\nthe latter: \"God be praised,\" said he, \"my child, for this happy\noccasion of meeting your cousin and your husband! You remember,\nof course, what order your chamber was in on your wedding night:\ngo and put all things as they were then placed; and if your\nmemory do not serve you, I can aid it by a written account, which\nI caused to be taken upon that occasion.\"\n\nThe beautiful lady went joyfully to execute her father's orders; and\nhe at the same time commanded the hall to be adorned as when Buddir ad\nDeen Houssun was there with the sultan of Egypt's hunch-backed groom.\nAs he went over his manuscript, his domestics placed every moveable in\nthe described order. The throne was not forgotten, nor the lighted wax\ncandles. When every thing was arranged in the hall, the vizier went\ninto his daughter's chamber and put in their due place Buddir ad\nDeen's apparel, with the purse of sequins. This done, he said to the\nbeautiful lady, \"Undress yourself, my child, and go to bed. As soon as\nBuddir ad Deen enters your room, complain of his being from you so\nlong, and tell him, that when you awoke, you were astonished you did\nnot find him by you. Press him to come to bed again; and to-morrow\nmorning you will divert your mother-in-law and me, by giving us an\naccount of your interview.\" This said, he went from his daughter's\napartment, and left her to undress herself and go to bed.\n\nShumse ad Deen Mahummud ordered all his domestics to depart the\nhall, excepting two or three, whom he desired to remain. These he\ncommanded to go and take Buddir ad Deen out of the cage, to strip\nhim to his under vest and drawers, to conduct him in that\ncondition to the hall, to leave him there alone, and shut the\ndoor upon him.\n\nBuddir ad Deen, though overwhelmed with grief, was asleep so\nsoundly, that the vizier's domestics had taken him out of the\nchest and stripped him before he awoke; and they carried him so\nsuddenly into the hall, that they did not give him time to see\nwhere he was. When he found himself alone in the hall, he looked\nround him, and the objects he beheld recalling to his memory the\ncircumstances of his marriage, he perceived, with astonishment,\nthat it was the place where he had seen the sultan's groom of the\nstables. His surprise was still the greater, when approaching\nsoftly the door of a chamber which he found open, he spied his\nown raiments where he remembered to have left them on his wedding\nnight. \"My God!\" said he, rubbing his eyes, \"am I asleep or\nawake?\"\n\nThe beautiful lady, who in the mean time was diverting herself\nwith his astonishment, opened the curtains of her bed suddenly,\nand bending her head forward, \"My dear lord,\" said she, with a\nsoft, tender air, \"what do you do at the door? You have been out\nof bed a long time. I was strangely surprised when I awoke in not\nfinding you by me.\" Buddir ad Deen was enraptured; he entered the\nroom, but reverting to all that had passed during a ten years'\ninterval, and not being able to persuade himself that it could\nall have happened in the compass of one night, he went to the\nplace where his vestments lay with the purse of sequins; and\nafter examining them very carefully, exclaimed, \"By Allah these\nare mysteries which I can by no means comprehend!\" The lady, who\nwas pleased to see his confusion, said, once more, \"My lord, what\ndo you wait for?\" He stepped towards the bed, and said to her,\n\"Is it long since I left you?\" \"The question,\" answered she,\n\"surprises me. Did not you rise from me but now? Surely your mind\nis deranged.\" \"Madam,\" replied Buddir ad Deen, \"I do assure you\nmy thoughts are not very composed. I remember indeed to have been\nwith you, but I remember at the same time, that I have since\nlived ten years at Damascus. Now, if I was actually in bed with\nyou this night, I cannot have been from you so long. These two\npoints are inconsistent. Pray tell me what I am to think; whether\nmy marriage with you is an illusion, or whether my absence from\nyou is only a dream?\" \"Yes, my lord,\" cried she, \"doubtless you\nwere light-headed when you thought you were at Damascus.\" Upon\nthis Buddir ad Deen laughed heartily, and said, \"What a comical\nfancy is this! I assure you, madam, this dream of mine will be\nvery pleasant to you. Do but imagine, if you please, that I was\nat the gate of Damascus in my shirt and drawers, as I am here\nnow; that I entered the town with the halloo of a mob who\nfollowed and insulted me; that I fled to a pastry cook who\nadopted me, taught me his trade, and left me all he had when he\ndied; that after his death I kept a shop. In fine, I had an\ninfinity of other adventures, too tedious to recount: and all I\ncan say is, that it was well that I awoke, for they were going to\nimpale me!\" \"And for what,\" cried the lady, feigning\nastonishment, \"would they have used you so cruelly? Surely you\nmust have committed some enormous crime.\" \"Not the least,\"\nreplied Buddir ad Deen; \"it was for nothing but a mere trifle,\nthe most ridiculous thing you can imagine. All the crime I was\ncharged with, was selling a cream-tart that had no pepper in it.\"\n\"As for that matter,\" said the beautiful lady laughing heartily,\n\"I must say they did you great injustice.\" \"Ah!\" replied he,\n\"that was not all. For this cursed cream-tart was every thing in\nmy shop broken to pieces, myself bound and fettered, and flung\ninto a chest, where I lay so close, that methinks I am there\nstill, but thanks be to God all was a dream.\"\n\nBuddir ad Deen was not easy all night. He awoke from time to time, and\nput the question to himself, whether he dreamed or was awake. He\ndistrusted his felicity; and, to be sure whether it was true or not,\nlooked round the room. \"I am not mistaken,\" said he; \"this is the same\nchamber where I entered instead of the hunch-backed groom of the\nstables; and I am now in bed with the fair lady designed for him.\"\nDay-light, which then appeared, had not yet dispelled his uneasiness,\nwhen the vizier Shumse ad Deen, his uncle, knocked at the door, and at\nthe same time went in to bid him good morrow.\n\nBuddir ad Deen was extremely surprised to see a man he knew so\nwell, and who now appeared with a different air from that with\nwhich he pronounced the terrible sentence of death against him.\n\"Ah!\" cried Buddir ad Deen, \"it was you who condemned me so\nunjustly to a kind of death, the thoughts of which make me\nshudder, and all for a cream-tart without pepper.\" The vizier\nfell a laughing, and to put him out of suspense, told him how, by\nthe ministry of a genie (for hunch-back's relation made him\nsuspect the adventure), he had been at his palace, and had\nmarried his daughter instead of the sultan's groom of the\nstables; then he acquainted him that he had discovered him to be\nhis nephew by the memorandum of his father, and pursuant to that\ndiscovery had gone from Cairo to Bussorah in quest of him. \"My\ndear nephew,\" added he, embracing him with every expression of\ntenderness, \"I ask your pardon for all I have made you undergo\nsince I discovered you. I resolved to bring you to my palace\nbefore I told you your happiness; which ought now to be so much\nthe dearer to you, as it has cost you so much perplexity and\ndistress. To atone for all your afflictions, comfort yourself\nwith the joy of being in the company of those who ought to be\ndearest to you. While you are dressing yourself I will go and\nacquaint your mother, who is beyond measure impatient to see you;\nand will likewise bring to you your son, whom you saw at\nDamascus, and for whom, without knowing him, you shewed so much\naffection.\"\n\nNo words can adequately express the joy of Buddir ad Deen, when\nhe saw his mother and his son. They embraced, and shewed all the\ntransports that love and tenderness could inspire. The mother\nspoke to Buddir ad Deen in the most moving terms; she mentioned\nthe grief she had felt for his long absence, and the tears she\nhad shed. Little Ajib, instead of flying his father's embraces,\nas at Damascus, received them with all the marks of pleasure. And\nBuddir ad Deen Houssun, divided between two objects so worthy of\nhis love, thought he could not give sufficient testimonies of his\naffection.\n\nWhile this passed, the vizier was gone to the palace, to give the\nsultan an account of the happy success of his travels; and the\nsultan was so moved with the recital of the story, that he\nordered it to be taken down in writing, and carefully preserved\namong the archives of the kingdom. After Shumse ad Deen's return\nto his palace, he sat down with his family, and all the household\npassed the day in festivity and mirth.\n\nThe vizier Jaaffier having thus concluded the story of Buddir ad\nDeen, told the caliph that this was what he had to relate to his\nmajesty. The caliph found the story so surprising, that without\nfarther hesitation he granted his slave Rihan's pardon; and to\nconsole the young man for the grief of having unhappily deprived\nhimself of a woman whom he had loved so tenderly, married him to\none of his slaves, bestowed liberal gifts upon him, and\nmaintained him till he died.\n\n\n\n\n            THE HISTORY OF GANEM, SON OF ABOU AYOUB,\n           AND KNOWN BY THE SURNAME OF LOVE'S SLAVE.\n\n\n\nThere was formerly at Damascus a merchant, who had by care and\nindustry acquired great wealth, on which he lived in a very\nhonourable manner. His name was Abou Ayoub, and he had one son\nand a daughter. The son was called Ganem, but afterwards surnamed\nLove's slave. His person was graceful, and the excellent\nqualities of his mind had been improved by able masters. The\ndaughter's name was Alcolom, signifying Ravisher of hearts,\nbecause her beauty was so perfect that whoever saw her could not\navoid loving her.\n\nAbou Ayoub died, and left immense riches: a hundred loads of\nbrocades and other silks that lay in his warehouse were the least\npart. The loads were ready made up, and on every bale was written\nin large characters, \"For Bagdad.\"\n\nMahummud, the son of Soliman, surnamed Zinebi, reigned at that\ntime at Damascus, the capital of Syria. His kinsman, Haroon al\nRusheed, had bestowed that kingdom on him as his tributary.\n\nSoon after the death of Abou Ayoub, Ganem conversed with his\nmother about their domestic affairs, and concerning the loads of\nmerchandize in the warehouse, asked her the meaning of what was\nwritten upon each bale. \"My son,\" answered his mother, \"your\nfather used to travel sometimes into one province, and sometimes\ninto another; and it was customary with him, before he set out,\nto write the name of the city he designed to repair to on every\nbade. He had provided all things to take a journey to Bagdad, and\nwas on the point of setting out, when death\"----She had not power\nto finish; the lively remembrance of the loss of her husband\nwould not permit her to say more, and drew from her a shower of\ntears.\n\nGanem could not see his mother so sensibly affected, without\nbeing equally so himself. They continued some time silent; but at\nlength he recovered himself, and as soon as he found his mother\ncalm enough to listen to him, said, \"Since my father designed\nthese goods for Bagdad, I will prepare myself to perform that\njourney; and I think it will be proper for me to hasten my\ndeparture, for fear those commodities should perish, or that we\nshould lose the opportunity of selling them to the best\nadvantage.\"\n\nAbou Ayoub's widow, who tenderly loved her son, was much\nconcerned at this resolution, and replied, \"My dear child, I\ncannot but commend you for designing to follow your father's\nexample; but consider, that you are too young, inexperienced, and\nunaccustomed to the fatigue of travelling. Besides, can you think\nof leaving me, and adding to that sorrow with which I am already\noppressed? Is it not better to sell those goods to the merchants\nof Damascus, and take up with a moderate profit, than expose\nyourself to the danger of perishing?\"\n\nIt was in vain for her to oppose Ganem's resolution by the\nstrongest arguments; they had no weight with him. An inclination\nto travel, and to accomplish himself by a thorough knowledge of\nthe world, urged him to set out, and prevailed over all his\nmother's remonstrances, her entreaties, and even her tears. He\nwent to the market where slaves were sold, and bought such as\nwere able-bodied, hired a hundred camels, and having provided all\nother necessaries, entered upon his journey, with five or six\nmerchants of Damascus, who were going to trade at Bagdad.\n\nThose merchants, attended by their slaves, and accompanied by\nseveral other travellers, made up such a considerable caravan,\nthat they had nothing to fear from the Bedouin Arabs, who make it\ntheir only profession to range the country; and attack and\nplunder the caravans when they are not strong enough to repulse\nthem. They had no other difficulty to encounter, than the usual\nfatigues of a long journey, which were easily forgotten when they\ncame in sight of the city of Bagdad, where they arrived in\nsafety.\n\nThey alighted at the most magnificent and most frequented khan in\nthe city; but Ganem chose to be lodged conveniently, and by\nhimself. He only left his goods there in a warehouse for their\ngreater security, and hired a spacious house in the\nneighbourhood, richly furnished, having a garden which was very\ndelightful, on account of its many waterworks and shady groves.\n\nSome days after this young merchant had been settled in his\nhouse, and perfectly recovered of the fatigue of his journey, he\ndressed himself richly, and repaired to the public place, where\nthe merchants met to transact business. A slave followed him,\ncarrying a parcel of fine stuffs and silks.\n\nThe merchants received Ganem very courteously, and their syndic,\nor chief, to whom he first made application, bought all his\nparcel, at the price set down in the ticket annexed to every\npiece of stuff. Ganem continued his trade so successfully, that\nhe every day sold all the goods he exposed.\n\nHe had but one bale left, which he had caused to be carried from\nthe warehouse to his own house; he then went to the public\nrendezvous, where he found all the shops shut. This seemed\nsomewhat extraordinary to him and having asked the cause, he was\ntold, that one of the first merchants, whom he knew, was dead,\nand that all his brother traders were gone to his funeral.\n\nGanem inquired for the mosque, where prayer was to be said, and\nwhence the body was to be conducted to the grave; and having been\ninformed, sent back his slave with the goods, and walked towards\nthe mosque. He got thither before the prayers were ended, which\nwere said in a hall hung with black satin. The corpse was taken\nup, and followed by the kindred, the merchants, and Ganem, to the\nplace of burial, which was at some distance without the city. It\nwas a stone structure, in form of a dome, purposely built to\nreceive the bodies of all the family of the deceased, and being\nvery small, they had pitched tents around, that all the company\nmight be sheltered during the ceremony. The monument was opened,\nand the corpse laid in it, after which it was shut up. Then the\nimam, and other ministers of the mosque, sat down in a ring on\ncarpets, in the largest tent, and recited the rest of the\nprayers. They also read the Fateah, or introductory chapter of\nthe Koraun, appointed for the burial of the dead. The kindred and\nmerchants sat round, in the same manner, behind the ministers.\n\nIt was near night before all was ended: Ganem who had not\nexpected such a long ceremony, began to be uneasy, and the more\nso, when he saw meat served up, in memory of the deceased,\naccording to the custom of the Mahummedans. He was also told that\nthe tents had been set up not only against the heat of the sun,\nbut also against the evening dew, because they should not return\nto the city before the next morning. These words perplexed Ganem.\n\"I am a stranger,\" said he to himself, \"and have the reputation\nof being a rich merchant; thieves may take the opportunity of my\nabsence, and rob my house. My slaves may be tempted by so\nfavourable an opportunity; they may run away with all the gold I\nhave received for my goods, and whither shall I go to look for\nthem?\" Full of these thoughts, he ate a few mouthfuls hastily,\nand slipped away from the company.\n\nHe made all possible haste; but, as it often happens that the\nmore a man hurries the less he advances, he went astray in the\ndark, so that it was near midnight when he came to the city gate;\nwhich, to add to his misfortune, was shut. This was a fresh\naffliction to him, and he was obliged to look for some convenient\nplace in which to pass the rest of the night till the gate was\nopened. He went into a burial-place, so spacious, that it reached\nfrom the city to the very place he had left. He advanced to some\nhigh walls, which enclosed a small field, being the mausoleum of\na family, and in which there was a palm-tree. Ganem, finding that\nthe burial-place where the palm-tree grew was open, went into it,\nand shut the door after him. He lay down on the grass and tried\nto sleep; but his uneasiness at being absent from home would not\npermit him. He got up, and after having passed before the door\nseveral times, opened it, without knowing why, and immediately\nperceived at a distance a light, which seemed to come towards\nhim. He was startled at the sight, closed the door, which had\nnothing to secure it but a latch, and got up as fast as he could\nto the top of the palm-tree; looking upon that as the safest\nretreat under his present apprehensions.\n\nNo sooner was he up, than by the help of the light which had\nalarmed him, he plainly perceived three men, whom, by their\nhabit, he knew to be slaves, enter into the burial-place. One of\nthem advanced with a lantern, and the two others followed him,\nloaded with a chest, between five and six feet long, which they\ncarried on their shoulders. They set it down, and then one of the\nthree slaves said to his comrades, \"Brethren, if you will be\nadvised by me, we will leave the chest here, and return to the\ncity.\" \"No, no,\" replied another, \"that would not be executing\nour mistress's orders; we may have cause to repent not doing as\nwe were commanded. Let us bury the chest, since we are enjoined\nso to do.\" The two other slaves complied. They began to break\nground with the tools they had brought for that purpose. When\nthey had made a deep trench, they put the chest into it, and\ncovered it with the earth they had taken out, and then departed.\n\nGanem, who from the top of the palm-tree had heard every word the\nslaves had spoken, could not tell what to think of the adventure. He\nconcluded that the chest must contain something of value, and that the\nperson to whom it belonged had some particular reasons for causing it\nto be buried in the cemetery. He resolved immediately to satisfy his\ncuriosity, came down from the palm-tree, the departure of the slaves\nhaving dissipated his fear, and fell to work upon the pit, plying his\nhands and feet so well, that in a short time he uncovered the chest,\nbut found it secured by a padlock. This new obstacle to the satisfying\nof his curiosity was no small mortification to him, yet he was not\ndiscouraged, but the day beginning then to appear, he saw several\ngreat stones about the burial-place. He picked out one, with which he\neasily knocked off the padlock, and then with much impatience opened\nthe chest. Ganem was strangely surprised, when, instead of money, he\ndiscovered a young lady of incomparable beauty. Her fresh and rosy\ncomplexion, and her gentle regular breathing, satisfied him she was\nalive, but he could not conceive why, if she were only asleep, she had\nnot awaked at the noise he made in forcing off the padlock. Her habit\nwas so costly, with bracelets and pendants of diamonds, and a necklace\nof pearls, so large, that he made not the least doubt of her being one\nof the principal ladies of the court. At the sight of so beautiful an\nobject, not only compassion and natural inclination to relieve persons\nin danger, but something more powerful, which Ganem could not then\naccount for, prevailed on him to afford the unfortunate beauty all the\nassistance in his power.\n\nHe first shut the gate of the burial-place, which the slaves had\nleft open; then, returning, took the lady in his arms, and laid\nher on the soft earth which he had thrown off the chest. As soon\nas she was exposed to the air, she sneezed, and, by the motion in\nturning her head, there came from her mouth a liquor, with which\nher stomach seemed to have been loaded; then opening and rubbing\nher eyes, she with such a voice as charmed Ganem, whom she did\nnot see, cried out, \"Zohorob Bostan, Shijher al Mirjaun, Casabos\nSouccar, Nouron Nihar, Nagmatos Sohi, Nonzbetos Zaman, why do you\nnot answer? where are you?\" These were the names of six female\nslaves that used to wait on her. She called them, and wondered\nthat nobody answered; but at length looking about, and perceiving\nshe was in a burial-place, was seized with fear. \"What,\" cried\nshe, much louder than before, \"are the dead raised? Is the day of\njudgment come? What a wonderful change is this from evening to\nmorning?\"\n\nGanem did not think fit to leave the lady any longer in her\nperplexity, but presented himself before her with all possible\nrespect, and in the most courteous manner. \"Madam,\" said he, \"I\nam not able to express my joy at having happened to be here to do\nyou the service I have, and to offer you all the assistance you\nmay need under your present circumstances.\"\n\nIn order to persuade the lady to repose confidence in him, he, in\nthe first place, told her who he was, and what accident had\nbrought him to that place. Next he acquainted her with the coming\nof the three slaves, and how they had buried the chest. The lady,\nwho had covered her face with her veil as soon as Ganem appeared,\nwas extremely sensible of the obligations she owed him. \"I return\nthanks to God,\" said she \"for having sent so worthy a person as\nyou are to deliver me from death; but since you have begun so\ncharitable a work, I conjure you not to leave it imperfect. Let\nme beg of you to go into the city, and provide a muleteer, to\ncome with his mule, and carry me to your house in this chest;\nfor, should I go with you on foot, my dress being different from\nthat of the city ladies, some one might take notice of it, and\nfollow me, which it highly concerns me to prevent. When I shall\nbe in your house, I will give you an account of myself; and in\nthe mean time be assured that you have not obliged an ungrateful\nperson.\"\n\nBefore the young merchant left the lady, he drew the chest out of\nthe pit, which he filled up with earth, laid her again in the\nchest, and shut it in such a manner, that it did not look as if\nthe padlock had been forced off; but for fear of stifling her, he\ndid not put it quite close, leaving room for the admittance of\nair. Going out of the burial-place, he drew the door after him;\nand the city gate being then open, soon found what he sought. He\nreturned with speed to the burial place, and helped the muleteer\nto lay the chest across his mule, telling him, to remove all\ncause of suspicion, that he came to that place the night before,\nwith another muleteer, who, being in haste to return home, had\nlaid down the chest where he saw it.\n\nGanem, who, since his arrival at Bagdad, had minded nothing but\nhis business, was still unacquainted with the power of love, and\nnow felt its first attacks. It had not been in his power to look\nupon the young lady without being dazzled; and the uneasiness he\nfelt at following the muleteer at a distance, and the fear lest\nany accident might happen by the way that should deprive him of\nhis conquest, taught him to unravel his thoughts. He was more\nthan usually delighted, when, being arrived safe at home, he saw\nthe chest unloaded. He dismissed the muleteer, and having caused\na slave to shut the door of his house, opened the chest, helped\nthe lady out, gave her his hand, and conducted her to his\napartment, lamenting how much she must have endured in such close\nconfinement. \"If I have suffered,\" said she, \"I have satisfaction\nsufficient in what you have done for me, and in the pleasure of\nseeing myself out of danger.\"\n\nThough Ganem's apartment was very richly furnished, the lady did\nnot so much regard its appearance, as she did the handsome\npresence and engaging mien of her deliverer, whose politeness and\nobliging behaviour heightened her gratitude. She sat down on a\nsofa, and to give the merchant to understand how sensible she was\nof the service done her, took off her veil. Ganem on his part was\nsensible of the favour so lovely a lady did in uncovering her\nface to him, or rather felt he had already a most violent passion\nfor her. Whatever obligations she owed him, he thought himself\nmore than requited by so singular a favour.\n\nThe lady dived into Ganem's thoughts, yet was not at all alarmed,\nbecause he appeared very respectful. He, judging she might have\noccasion to eat, and not willing to trust any but himself with\nthe care of entertaining so charming a guest, went out with a\nslave to an eating-house, to give directions for an\nentertainment. From thence he went to a fruiterer, where he chose\nthe finest and best fruit; buying also the choicest wine, and the\nsame bread that was eaten at the caliph's table.\n\nAs soon as he returned home, he with his own hands made a pyramid\nof the fruit he had bought, and serving it up himself to the lady\nin a large dish, of the finest china-ware, \"Madam,\" said he, \"be\npleased to make choice of some of this fruit, while a more solid\nentertainment, and more worthy yourself, is preparing.\" He would\nhave continued standing before her, but she declared she would\nnot touch any thing, unless he sat down and ate with her. He\nobeyed; and when they had eaten a little, Ganem observing that\nthe lady's veil, which she laid down by her on a sofa, was\nembroidered along the edge with golden letters, begged her\npermission to look on the embroidery. The lady immediately took\nup the veil, and delivered it to him, asking him whether he could\nread? \"Madam,\" replied he, with a modest air, \"a merchant would\nbe ill-qualified to manage his business if he could not at least\nread and write.\" \"Well, then,\" said she, \"read the words which\nare embroidered on that veil, which gives me an opportunity of\ntelling you my story.\"\n\nGanem took the veil, and read these words, \"I am yours, and you\nare mine, thou descendant from the prophet's uncle.\" That\ndescendant from the prophet's uncle was the caliph Haroon al\nRusheed, who then reigned, and was descended from Abbas,\nMahummud's uncle.\n\nWhen Ganem perceived these words, \"Alas! madam,\" said he, in a\nmelancholy tone, \"I have just saved your life, and this writing\nis my death! I do not comprehend all the mystery; but it\nconvinces me I am the most unfortunate of men. Pardon, madam, the\nliberty I take, but it was impossible for me to see you without\ngiving you my heart. You are not ignorant yourself, that it was\nnot in my power to refuse it you, and that makes my presumption\nexcusable. I proposed to myself to touch your heart by my\nrespectful behaviour, my care, my assiduity, my submission, my\nconstancy; and no sooner have I formed the flattering design,\nthan I am robbed of all my hopes. I cannot long survive so great\na misfortune. But, be that as it will, I shall have the\nsatisfaction of dying entirely yours. Proceed, madam, I conjure\nyou, and give me full information of my unhappy fate.\"\n\nHe could not utter those words without letting fall some tears.\nThe lady was moved; but was so far from being displeased at the\ndeclaration he made, that she felt secret joy; for her heart\nbegan to yield. However, she concealed her feelings, and as if\nshe had not regarded what Ganem had said. \"I should have been\nvery cautious,\" answered she, \"of shewing you my veil, had I\nthought it would have given you so much uneasiness; but I do not\nperceive that what I have to say to you can make your condition\nso deplorable as you imagine.\"\n\n\"You must understand,\" proceeded she, \"in order to acquaint you\nwith my story, that my name is Fetnah (which signifies\ndisturbance), which was given me at my birth, because it was\njudged that the sight of me would one day occasion many\ncalamities. Of this you cannot be ignorant, since there is nobody\nin Bagdad but knows that the caliph, my sovereign lord and yours,\nhas a favourite so called.\n\n\"I was carried into his palace in my tenderest years, and I have\nbeen brought up with all the care that is usually taken with such\npersons of my sex as are destined to reside there. I made no\nlittle progress in all they took the pains to teach me; and that,\nwith some share of beauty, gained me the affection of the caliph,\nwho allotted me a particular apartment adjoining to his own. That\nprince was not satisfied with such a mark of distinction; he\nappointed twenty women to wait on me, and as many eunuchs; and\never since he has made me such considerable presents, that I saw\nmyself richer than any queen in the world. You may judge by what\nI have said, that Zobeide, the caliph's wife and kinswoman, could\nnot but be jealous of my happiness. Though Haroon has all the\nregard imaginable for her, she has taken every possible\nopportunity to ruin me.\n\n\"Hitherto I had secured myself against all her snares, but at\nlength I fell under the last effort of her jealousy; and, had it\nnot been for you, must now have been exposed to inevitable death.\nI question not but she had corrupted one of my slaves, who last\nnight, in some lemonade, gave me a drug, which causes such a dead\nsleep, that it is easy to dispose of those who have taken it; for\nthat sleep is so profound, that nothing can dispel it for the\nspace of seven or eight hours. I have the more reason to judge\nso, because naturally I am a very bad sleeper, and apt to wake at\nthe least noise.\n\n\"Zobeide, the better to put her design in execution, has availed\nherself of the absence of the caliph, who went lately to put\nhimself at the head of his troops, to chastise some neighbouring\nkings, who have formed a league of rebellion. Were it not for\nthis opportunity, my rival, outrageous as she is, durst not have\npresumed to attempt any thing against my life. I know not what\nshe will do to conceal this action from the caliph, but you see\nit highly concerns me that you should keep my secret. My life\ndepends on it. I shall be safe in your house as long as the\ncaliph is from Bagdad. It concerns you to keep my adventure\nprivate; for should Zobeide know the obligation I owe you, she\nwould punish you for having saved me.\n\n\"When the caliph returns, I shall not need to be so much upon my\nguard. I shall find means to acquaint him with all that has\nhappened, and I am fully persuaded he will be more earnest than\nmyself to requite a service which restores me to his love.\"\n\nAs soon as Haroon al Rusheed's beautiful favourite had done\nspeaking, Ganem said, \"Madam, I return you a thousand thanks for\nhaving given me the information I took the liberty to desire of\nyou; and I beg of you to believe, that you are here in safety;\nthe sentiments you have inspired are a pledge of my secrecy.\n\n\"As for my slaves, they may perhaps fail of the fidelity they owe\nme, should they know by what accident and in what place I had the\nhappiness to find you. I dare assure you, however, that they will\nnot have the curiosity to inquire. It is so natural for young men\nto purchase beautiful slaves, that it will be no way surprising\nto them to see you here, believing you to be one, and that I have\nbought you. They will also conclude that I have some particular\nreasons for bringing you home as they saw I did. Set your heart,\ntherefore, at rest, as to that point, and remain satisfied that\nyou shall be served with all the respect that is due to the\nfavourite of so great a monarch as our sovereign the caliph. But\ngreat as he is, give me leave, madam, to declare, that nothing\ncan make me recall the present I have made you of my heart. I\nknow, and shall never forget, 'that what belongs to the master is\nforbidden to the slave;' but I loved you before you told me that\nyou were engaged to the caliph; it is not in my power to overcome\na passion which, though now in its infancy, has all the force of\na love strengthened by a perfect of situation. I wish your august\nand most fortunate lover may avenge you of the malice of Zobeide,\nby calling you back to him; and when you shall be restored to his\nwishes, that you may remember the unfortunate Ganem, who is no\nless your conquest than the caliph. Powerful as that prince is, I\nflatter myself he will not be able to blot me out of your\nremembrance. He cannot love you more passionately than I do; and\nI shall never cease to love you into whatever part of the world I\nmay go to expire, after having lost you.\"\n\nFetnah perceived that Ganem was under the greatest of\nafflictions, and his situation affected her; but considering the\nuneasiness she was likely to bring upon herself, by prosecuting\nthe conversation on that subject, which might insensibly lead her\nto discover the inclination she felt for him; \"I perceive,\" said\nshe, \"that this conversation gives you too much uneasiness; let\nus change the subject, and talk of the infinite obligation I owe\nyou. I can never sufficiently express my gratitude, when I\nreflect that, without your assistance, I should never again have\nbeheld the light of the sun.\"\n\nIt was happy for them both, that somebody just then knocked at\nthe door; Ganem went to see who it was, and found it to be one of\nhis slaves come to acquaint him that the entertainment was ready.\nGanem, who, by way of precaution, would have none of his slaves\ncome into the room where Fetnah was, took what was brought, and\nserved it up himself to his beautiful guest, whose soul was\nravished to behold what attention he paid her.\n\nWhen they had eaten, Ganem took away, as he had covered the\ntable; and having delivered all things at the door of the\napartment to his slaves, \"Madam,\" said he to Fetnah, \"you may now\nperhaps desire to take some rest; I will leave you, and when you\nhave reposed yourself, you shall find me ready to receive your\ncommands.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, he left her, and went to purchase two\nwomen-slaves. He also bought two parcels, one of fine linen, and the\nother of all such things as were proper to make up a toilet fit for\nthe caliph's favourite. Having conducted home the two women-slaves, he\npresented them to Fetnah, saying, \"Madam, a person of your quality\ncannot be without two waiting-maids, at least, to serve you; be\npleased to accept of these.\"\n\nFetnah, admiring Ganem's attention, said, \"My lord, I perceive\nyou are not one that will do things by halves: you add by your\ncourtesy to the obligations I owe you already; but I hope I shall\nnot die ungrateful, and that heaven will soon place me in a\ncondition to requite all your acts of generosity.\"\n\nWhen the women-slaves were withdrawn into a chamber adjoining, he\nsat down on the sofa, but at some distance from Fetnah, in token\nof respect. He then began to discourse of his passion. \"I dare\nnot so much as hope,\" said he, \"to excite the least sensibility\nin a heart like yours, destined for the greatest prince in the\nworld. Alas! it would be a comfort to me in my misfortune, if I\ncould but flatter myself, that you have not looked upon the\nexcess of my love with indifference.\" \"My lord,\" answered Fetnah\n\"Alas! madam,\" said Ganem, interrupting her at the word lord,\n\"this is the second time you have done me the honour to call me\nlord; the presence of the women-slaves hindered me the first time\nfrom taking notice of it to you: in the name of God, madam, do\nnot give me this title of honour; it does not belong to me; treat\nme, I beseech you, as your slave: I am, and shall never cease to\nbe so.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" replied Fetnah, interrupting him in her turn, \"I shall\nbe cautious how I treat with such disrespect a man to whom I owe\nmy life. I should be ungrateful, could I say or do any thing that\ndid not become you. Leave me, therefore, to follow the dictates\nof my gratitude, and do not require of me, that I should\nmisbehave myself towards you, in return for the benefits I have\nreceived. I shall never be guilty of such conduct; I am too\nsensible of your respectful behaviour to abuse it; and I will not\nhesitate to own, that I do not regard your care with\nindifference. You know the reasons that condemn me to silence.\"\n\nGanem was enraptured at this declaration; he wept for joy, and\nnot being able to find expressions significant enough, in his own\nopinion, to return Fetnah thanks, was satisfied with telling her,\nthat as she knew what she owed to the caliph, he, on his part,\nwas not ignorant \"that what belongs to the master is forbidden to\nthe slave.\"\n\nNight drawing on, he rose up to fetch a light, which he brought\nin himself, as also a collation.\n\nThey both sat down at table, and at first complimented each other\non the fruit as they presented it reciprocally. The excellence of\nthe wine insensibly drew them both to drink; and having drunk two\nor three glasses, they agreed that neither should take another\nglass without first singing some air. Ganem sung verses ex\ntempore, expressive of the vehemence of his passion; and Fetnah,\nencouraged by his example, composed and sung verses relating to\nher adventure, and always containing something which Ganem might\ntake in a sense favourable to himself; except in this, she most\nexactly observed the fidelity due to the caliph. The collation\ncontinued till very late, and the night was far advanced before\nthey thought of parting. Ganem then withdrew to another\napartment, leaving Fetnah where she was, the women slaves he had\nbought coming in to wait upon her.\n\nThey lived together in this manner for several days. The young\nmerchant went not abroad, unless upon of the utmost consequence,\nand even for that took the time when the lady was reposing; for\nhe could not prevail upon himself to lose a moment that might be\nspent in her company. All his thoughts were taken up with his\ndear Fetnah, who, on her side, gave way to her inclination,\nconfessed she had no less affection for him than he had for her.\nHowever, fond as they were of each other, their respect for the\ncaliph kept them within due bounds, which still heightened their\npassion.\n\nWhilst Fetnah, thus snatched from the jaws of death, passed her\ntime so agreeably with Ganem, Zobeide was not without some\napprehensions in the palace of Haroon al Rusheed.\n\nNo sooner had the three slaves, entrusted with the execution of\nher revenge, carried away the chest, without knowing what it\ncontained, or so much as the least curiosity to inquire (being\nused to pay a blind obedience to her commands), than she was\nseized with a tormenting uneasiness; a thousand perplexing\nthoughts disturbed her rest; sleep fled from her eyes, and she\nspent the night in contriving how to conceal her crime. \"My\nconsort,\" said she, \"loves Fetnah more than ever he did any of\nhis favourites. What shall I say to him at his return, when he\ninquires of me after her?\" Many contrivances occurred to her, but\nnone were satisfactory. Still she met with difficulties, and knew\nnot where to fix. There lived with her a lady advanced in years,\nwho had bred her up from her infancy. As soon as it was day, she\nsent for her, and having entrusted her with the secret, said, \"My\ngood mother, you have always assisted me with your advice; if\never I stood in need of it, it is now, when the business before\nyou is to still my thoughts, distracted by a mortal anxiety, and\nto show me some way to satisfy the caliph.\"\n\n\"My dear mistress,\" replied the old lady, \"it had been much\nbetter not to have run yourself into the difficulties you labour\nunder; but since the thing is done, the best consolation is to\nthink no more of it. All that must now be thought of, is how to\ndeceive the commander of the believers; and I am of opinion, that\nyou should immediately cause a wooden image resembling a dead\nbody to be carved. We will shroud it up in linen, and when shut\nup in a coffin, it shall be buried in some part of the palace;\nyou shall then immediately cause a marble mausoleum to be built,\nin the form of a dome, over the burial place, and erect a tomb,\nwhich shall be covered with embroidered cloth, and set about with\ngreat candlesticks and large wax tapers. There is another thing,\"\nadded the old lady, \"which ought not to be forgotten; you must\nput on mourning, and cause the same to be done by your own and\nFetnah's women, your eunuchs, and all the officers of the palace.\nWhen the caliph returns, and sees you all and the palace in\nmourning, he will not fail to ask the occasion of it. You will\nthen have an opportunity of insinuating yourself into his favour,\nby saying, it was out of respect to him that you paid the last\nhonours to Fetnah, snatched away by sudden death. You may tell\nhim, you have caused a mausoleum to be built, and, in short, that\nyou have paid all the last honours to his favourite, as he would\nhave done himself had he been present. His passion for her being\nextraordinary, he will certainly go to shed tears upon her grave;\nand perhaps,\" added the old woman, \"he will not believe she is\nreally dead. He may, possibly, suspect you have turned her out of\nthe palace through jealousy, and look upon all the mourning as an\nartifice to deceive him, and prevent his making inquiries after\nher. It is likely he will cause the coffin to be taken up and\nopened, and it is certain he will be convinced of her death, as\nsoon as he shall see the figure of a dead body buried. He will be\npleased with all you shall have done, and express his gratitude.\nAs for the wooden image, I will myself undertake to have it cut\nby a carver in the city, who shall not know the purpose for which\nit is designed. As for your part, madam, order Fetnah's woman,\nwho yesterday gave her the lemonade, to give out, among her\ncompanions, that she has just found her mistress dead in her bed;\nand in order that they may only think of lamenting, without\noffering to go into her chamber, let her add, she has already\nacquainted you with the circumstance, and that you have ordered\nMesrour to cause her to be buried.\"\n\nAs soon as the old lady had spoken, Zobeide took a rich diamond\nring out of her casket, and putting it on her finger, and\nembracing her in a transport of joy, said, \"How infinitely am I\nbeholden to you, my good mother! I should never have thought of\nso ingenious a contrivance. It cannot fail of success, and I\nbegin to recover my peace. I leave the care of the wooden figure\nto you, and will go myself to order the rest.\"\n\nThe wooden image was got ready with as much expedition as Zobeide\ncould have wished, and then conveyed by the old lady herself into\nFetnah's bed-chamber, where she dressed it like a dead body, and\nput it into a coffin. Then Mesrour, who was himself deceived by\nit, caused the coffin and the representation of Fetnah to be\ncarried away, and buried with the usual ceremonies in the place\nappointed by Zobeide, the favourite's women weeping and\nlamenting, she who had given her the lemonade setting them an\nexample by her cries and lamentations.\n\nThat very day Zobeide sent for the architect of the palace, and,\naccording to orders, the mausoleum was finished in a short time.\nSuch potent princesses as the consort of a monarch, whose power\nextended from east to west, are always punctually obeyed in\nwhatsoever they command. She soon put on mourning with all the\ncourt; so that the news of Fetnah's death was quickly spread over\nthe city.\n\nGanem was one of the last who heard of it; for, as I have before\nobserved, he hardly ever went abroad. Being, however, at length\ninformed of it, \"Madam,\" said he to the caliph's fair favourite,\n\"you are supposed in Bagdad to be dead, and I do not question but\nthat Zobeide herself believes it. I bless heaven that I am the\ncause, and the happy witness of your being alive; would to God,\nthat, taking advantage of this false report, you would share my\nfortune, and go far from hence to reign in my heart! But whither\ndoes this pleasing transport carry me? I do not consider that you\nare born to make the greatest prince in the world happy; and that\nonly Haroon al Rusheed is worthy of you. Supposing you could\nresolve to give him up for me, and that you would follow me,\nought I to consent? No, it is my part always to remember, 'that\nwhat belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.'\"\n\nThe lovely Fetnah, though moved by the tenderness of the passion\nhe expressed, yet prevailed with herself not to encourage it. \"My\nlord,\" said she to him, \"we cannot obstruct the momentary triumph\nof Zobeide. I am not surprised at the artifice she uses to\nconceal her guilt: but let her go on; I flatter myself that\nsorrow will soon follow her triumph. The caliph will return, and\nwe shall find the means privately to inform him of all that has\nhappened. In the mean time let us be more cautious than ever,\nthat she may not know I am alive. I have already told you the\nconsequences to be apprehended from such a discovery.\"\n\nAt the end of three months the caliph returned to Bagdad with\nglory, having vanquished all his enemies. He entered the palace\nwith impatience to embrace Fetnah; but was amazed to see all the\nofficers in mourning; and his concern was redoubled when,\napproaching the apartment of Zobeide, he beheld that princess\ncoming to meet him in mourning with all her women. He immediately\nasked her the cause, with much agitation. \"Commander of the\nbelievers,\" answered Zobeide, \"I am in mourning for your slave\nFetnah; who died so suddenly that it was impossible to apply any\nremedy to her disorder.\" She would have proceeded, but the caliph\ndid not give her time, being so agitated at the news, that he\nuttered a feeble exclamation, and fainted. On recovering himself,\nhe, with a feeble voice, which sufficiently expressed his extreme\ngrief, asked where his dear Fetnah had been buried. \"Sir,\" said\nZobeide, \"I myself took care of her funeral, and spared no cost\nto make it magnificent. I have caused a marble mausoleum to be\nbuilt over her grave, and will attend you thither if you desire.\"\n\nThe caliph would not permit Zobeide to take that trouble, but\ncontented himself to have Mesrour to conduct him. He went thither just\nas he was, in his camp dress. When he saw the tomb, the wax-lights\nround it, and the magnificence of the mausoleum, he was amazed that\nZobeide should have performed the obsequies of her rival with so much\npomp; and being naturally of a jealous temper, suspected his wife's\ngenerosity and fancied his mistress might perhaps be yet alive; that\nZobeide, taking advantage of his long absence, might have turned her\nout of the palace, ordering those she had entrusted to conduct her, to\nconvey her so far off that she might never more be heard of. This was\nall he suspected; for he did not think Zobeide wicked enough to have\nattempted the life of his favourite.\n\nThe better to discover the truth himself, he ordered the tomb to\nbe removed, and caused the grave and the coffin to be opened in\nhis presence; but when he saw the linen wrapped round the wooden\nimage, he durst not proceed any farther. This devout caliph\nthought it would be a sacrilegious act to suffer the body of the\ndead lady to be touched; and this scrupulous fear prevailed over\nhis love and curiosity. He doubted not of Fetnah's death. He\ncaused the coffin to be shut up again, the grave to be filled,\nand the tomb to be made as it was before.\n\nThe caliph thinking himself obliged to pay some respect to the\ngrave of his favourite, sent for the ministers of religion, the\nofficers of the palace, and the readers of the Koraun; and,\nwhilst they were collecting together, he remained in the\nmausoleum, moistening with his tears the marble that covered the\nphantom of his mistress. When all the persons he had sent for\nwere come, he stood before the tomb, and recited long prayers;\nafter which the readers of the Koraun read several, chapters.\n\nThe same ceremony was performed every day for a whole month,\nmorning and evening, the caliph being always present, with the\ngrand vizier, and the principal officers of the court, all of\nthem in mourning, as well as the caliph himself, who all the time\nceased not to honour the memory of Fetnah with his tears, and\nwould not hear of any business.\n\nThe last day of the month, the prayers and reading of the Koraun\nlasted from morning till break of day the next morning. The\ncaliph, being tired with sitting up so long, went to take some\nrest in his apartment, and fell asleep upon a sofa, between two\nof the court ladies, one of them sitting at the bed's-head, and\nthe other at the feet, who, whilst he slept, were working some\nembroidery, and observed a profound silence.\n\nShe who sat at the bed's-head, and whose name was Nouron-Nihar,\nperceiving the caliph was asleep, whispered to the other, called\nNagmatos Sohi, \"There is great news! The commander of the\nbelievers our master will be overjoyed when he awakes, and hears\nwhat I have to tell him; Fetnah is not dead, she is in perfect\nhealth.\" \"O heavens!\" cried Nagmatos Sohi, in a transport of joy,\n\"is it possible, that the beautiful, the charming, the\nincomparable Fetnah should be still among the living?\" She\nuttered these words with so much vivacity, and so loud, that the\ncaliph awoke. He asked why they had disturbed his rest? \"Alas! my\nsovereign lord,\" answered the slave, \"pardon me this\nindiscretion; I could not without transport hear that Fetnah is\nstill alive; it caused such emotion in me, as I could not\nsuppress.\" \"What then is become of her,\" demanded the caliph, \"if\nshe is not dead?\" \"Chief of the believers,\" replied the other, \"I\nthis evening received a note from a person unknown, written with\nFetnah's own hand; she gives me an account of her melancholy\nadventure, and orders me to acquaint you with it. I thought fit,\nbefore I fulfilled my commission, to let you take some few\nmoments' rest, believing you must stand in need of it, after your\nfatigue; and----\"\n\n\"Give me that note,\" said the caliph, interrupting her eagerly,\n\"you were wrong to defer delivering it to me.\"\n\nThe slave immediately presented to him the note, which he opened\nwith much impatience, and in it Fetnah gave a particular account\nof all that had befallen her, but enlarged a little too much on\nthe attentions of Ganem. The caliph, who was naturally jealous,\ninstead of being provoked at the inhumanity of Zobeide, was more\nconcerned at the infidelity he fancied Fetnah had been guilty of\ntowards him. \"Is it so?\" said he, after reading the note; \"the\nperfidious wretch has been four months with a young merchant, and\nhas the effrontery to boast of his attention to her. Thirty days\nare past since my return to Bagdad, and she now thinks of sending\nme news of herself. Ungrateful creature! whilst I spend the days\nin bewailing her, she passes them in betraying me. Go to, let us\ntake vengeance of a bold woman, and that bold youth who affronts\nme.\" Having spoken these words, the caliph rose, and went into a\nhall where he used to appear in public, and give audience to his\ncourt. The first gate was opened, and immediately all the\ncourtiers, who were waiting without, entered. The grand vizier,\ncame in, and prostrated himself before the throne. Then rising,\nhe stood before his master, who, in a tone which denoted he would\nbe instantly obeyed, said to him, \"Jaaffier, your presence is\nrequisite, for putting in execution an important affair I am\nabout to commit to you. Take four hundred men of my guards with\nyou, and first inquire where a merchant of Damascus lives whose\nname is Ganem, the son of Abou Ayoub. When you have learnt this,\nrepair to his house, and cause it to be razed to the foundations;\nbut first secure Ganem, and bring him hither, with my slave\nFetnah, who has lived with him these four months. I will punish\nher, and make an example of that insolent man, who has presumed\nto fail in respell to me.\"\n\nThe grand vizier, having received this positive command, made a\nlow prostration to the caliph, having his hand on his head, in\ntoken that he would rather lose it than disobey him, and\ndeparted. The first thing he did, was to send to the syndic of\nthe dealers in foreign stuffs and silks, with strict orders to\nfind out the house of the unfortunate merchant. The officer he\nsent with these orders brought him back word, that he had\nscarcely been seen for some months, and no man knew what could\nkeep him at home, if he was there. The same officer likewise told\nJaaffier where Ganem lived.\n\nUpon this information, that minister, without losing time, went to the\njudge of the police, whom he caused to bear him company, and attended\nby a great number of carpenters and masons, with the necessary tools\nfor razing a house, came to Ganem's residence; and finding it stood\ndetached from any other, he posted his soldiers round it, to prevent\nthe young merchant's making his escape.\n\nFetnah and Ganem had just dined: the lady was sitting at a window\nnext the street; hearing a noise, she looked out through the\nlattice, and seeing the grand vizier, approach with his\nattendants, concluded she was their object as well as Ganem. She\nperceived her note had been received, but had not expected such a\nconsequence, having hoped that the caliph would have taken the\nmatter in a different light. She knew not how long the prince had\nbeen returned from his campaign, and though she was acquainted\nwith his jealous temper, yet apprehended nothing on that account.\nHowever, the sight of the grand vizier, and the soldiers made her\ntremble, not indeed for herself, but for Ganem: she did not\nquestion clearing herself, provided the caliph would but hear\nher. As for Ganem, whom she loved less out of gratitude than\ninclination, she plainly foresaw that his incensed rival might be\napt to condemn him, on account of his youth and person. Full of\nthis thought, she turned to the young merchant and said, \"Alas!\nGanem, we are undone.\" Ganem looked through the lattice, and was\nseized with dread, when he beheld the caliph's guards with their\nnaked cimeters, and the grand vizier, with the civil magistrate\nat the head of them. At this sight he stood motionless, and had\nnot power to utter one word. \"Ganem,\" said the favourite, \"there\nis no time to be lost; if you love me, put on the habit of one of\nyour slaves immediately, and disfigure your face and arms with\nsoot. Then put some of these dishes on your head; you may be\ntaken for a servant belonging to the eating house, and they will\nlet you pass. If they happen to ask you where the master of the\nhouse is, answer, without any hesitation, that he is within.\"\n\"Alas! madam,\" answered Harem, concerned for himself than for\nFetnah, \"you only take care of me, what will become of you?\" \"Let\nnot that trouble you,\" replied Fetnah, \"it is my part to look to\nthat. As for what you leave in this house, I will take care of\nit, and I hope it will be one day faithfully restored to you,\nwhen the caliph's anger shall be over; but at present avoid his\nfury. The orders he gives in the heat of passion are always\nfatal.\" The young merchant's affliction was so great, that he\nknew not what course to pursue, and would certainly have suffered\nhimself to be seized by the caliph's soldiers, had not Fetnah\npressed him to disguise himself. He submitted to her persuasions,\nput on the habit of a slave, daubed himself with soot, and as\nthey were knocking at the door, all they could do was to embrace\neach other tenderly. They were both so overwhelmed with sorrow,\nthat they could not utter a word. Thus they parted. Ganem went\nout with some dishes on his head: he was taken for the servant of\nan eating-house, and no one offered to stop him. On the contrary,\nthe grand vizier, who was the first that met him, gave way and\nlet him pass, little thinking that he was the man he looked for.\nThose who were behind the grand vizier, made way as he had done,\nand thus favoured his escape He soon reached one of the gates,\nand got clear of the city.\n\nWhilst he was making the best of his way from the grand vizier,\nthat minister came into the room where Fetnah was sitting on a\nsofa, and where there were many chests full of Ganem's clothes,\nand of the money he had made of his goods.\n\nAs soon as Fetnah saw the grand vizier, come into the room, she\nfell upon her face, and continuing in that posture, as it were to\nreceive her death; \"My lord,\" said she, \"I am ready to undergo\nthe sentence passed against me by the commander of the believers;\nyou need only make it known to me.\" \"Madam,\" answered Jaaffier,\nfalling also down till she had raised herself, \"God forbid any\nman should presume to lay profane hands on you. I do not intend\nto offer you the least harm. I have no farther orders, than to\nintreat you will be pleased to go with me to the palace, and to\nconduct you thither, with the merchant that lives in this house.\"\n\"My lord,\" replied the favourite, \"let us go; I am ready to\nfollow you. As for the young merchant, to whom I am indebted for\nmy life, he is not here, he has been gone about a month since to\nDamascus, whither his business called him, and has left these\nchests you see under my care, till he returns. I conjure you to\ncause them to be carried to the palace, and order them to be\nsecured, that I may perform the promise I made him to take all\npossible care of them.\"\n\n\"You shall be obeyed,\" said Jaaffier, and immediately sent for\nporters, whom he commanded to take up the chests, and carry them\nto Mesrour.\n\nAs soon as the porters were gone, he whispered the civil\nmagistrate, committing to him the care of seeing the house razed,\nbut first to cause diligent search to be made for Ganem, who, he\nsuspected, might be hidden, notwithstanding what Fetnah had told\nhim. He then went out, taking her with him, attended by the two\nslaves who waited on her. As for Ganem's slaves, they were not\nregarded; they ran in among the crowd, and it was not known what\nbecame of them.\n\nNo sooner was Jaaffier out of the house, than the masons and\ncarpenters began to demolish it, and did their business so\neffectually, that in a few hours none of it remained. But the\ncivil magistrate, not finding Ganem, after the strictest search,\nsent to acquaint the grand vizier, before that minister reached\nthe palace. \"Well,\" said Haroon al Rusheed, seeing him come into\nhis closet, \"have you executed my orders?\" \"Yes,\" answered\nJaaffier \"the house Ganem lived in is levelled with the ground,\nand I have brought you your favourite Fetnah; she is at your\ncloset door, and I will call her in, if you command me. As for\nthe young merchant, we could not find him, though every place has\nbeen searched, and Fetnah affirms that he has been gone a month\nto Damascus.\"\n\nNever was passion equal to that of the caliph, when he heard that\nGanem had made his escape. As for his favourite, believing that\nshe had been false to him, he would neither see nor speak to her.\n\"Mesrour,\" said he to the chief of the eunuchs, who was then\npresent, \"take the ungrateful and perfidious Fetnah, and shut her\nup in the dark tower.\" That tower was within the precinct of the\npalace, and commonly served as a prison for the favourites who\nany way offended the caliph.\n\nMesrour being used to execute his sovereign's orders, however\nunjust, without making any answer, obeyed this with some\nreluctance. He signified his concern to Fetnah, who was the more\ngrieved because she had assured herself, that the caliph would\nnot refuse to speak to her. She was obliged to submit to her hard\nfate, and to follow Mesrour, who conducted her to the dark tower,\nand there left her.\n\nIn the mean time, the enraged caliph dismissed his grand vizier,\nand only hearkening to his passion, wrote the following letter\nwith his own hand to the king of Syria, his cousin and tributary,\nwho resided at Damascus.\n\n\"This letter is to inform you, that a merchant of Damascus, whose\nname is Ganem, the son of Abou Ayoub, has seduced the most\namiable of my women slaves, called Fetnah, and is fled. It is my\nwill, that when you have read my letter, you cause search to be\nmade for Ganem, and secure him. When he is in your power, you\nshall cause him to be loaded with irons, and for three days\nsuccessively let him receive fifty strokes of the bastinado. Then\nlet him be led through all parts of the city by a crier,\nproclaiming, 'This is the smallest punishment the commander of\nthe believers inflicts on him that offends his lord, and\ndebauches one of his slaves.' After that you shall send him to me\nunder a strong guard. It is my will that you cause his house to\nbe plundered; and after it has been razed, order the materials to\nbe carried out of the city into the middle of the plain. Besides\nthis, if he has father, mother, sister, wives, daughters, or\nother kindred, cause them to be stripped; and when they are\nnaked, expose them three days to the whole city, forbidding any\nperson on pain of death to afford them shelter. I expect you will\nwithout delay execute my command.\"\n\nThe caliph having written this letter, dispatched it by an\nexpress, ordering him to make all possible speed, and to take\npigeons along with him, that he might the sooner hear what had\nbeen done by Mahummud Zinebi.\n\nThe pigeons of Bagdad have this peculiar quality, that from\nwherever they may be carried to, they return to Bagdad as soon as\nthey are set at liberty, especially when they have young ones. A\nletter rolled up is made fast under their wing, and by that means\nadvice is speedily received from such places as it is desired.\n\nThe caliph's courier travelled night and day, as his master's\nimpatience required; and being come to Damascus, went directly to\nking Zinebi's palace, who sat upon his throne to receive the\ncaliph's letter. The courier having delivered it, Mahummud\nlooking at it, and knowing the hand, stood up to shew his\nrespect, kissed the letter, and laid it on his head, to denote he\nwas ready submissively to obey the orders it contained. He opened\nit, and having read it, immediately descended from his throne,\nand without losing time, mounted on horseback with the principal\nofficers of his household. He sent for the civil magistrate; and\nwent directly to Ganem's house, attended by all his guards.\n\nGanem's mother had never received any letter from him since he\nhad left Damascus; but the other merchants with whom he went to\nBagdad were returned, and all of them told her they had left her\nson in perfect however, seeing he did not return, she could not\nbut be persuaded that he was dead, and was so fully convinced of\nthis in her imagination, that she went into mourning. She\nbewailed Ganem as if she had seen him die, and had herself closed\nhis eyes: never mother expressed greater sorrow; and so far was\nshe from seeking any comfort, that she delighted in indulging her\ngrief. She had caused a dome to be built in the middle of the\ncourt belonging to her house, in which she placed a tomb. She\nspent the greatest part of the days and nights in weeping under\nthat dome, as if her son had been buried there: her daughter bore\nher company, and mixed her tears with hers.\n\nIt was now some time since they had thus devoted themselves to\nsorrow, and the neighbourhood, hearing their cries and\nlamentations, pitied such tender relations, when king Mahummud\nZinebi knocked at the door, which being opened by a slave\nbelonging to the family, he hastily entered the house, inquiring\nfor Ganem, the son of Abou Ayoub.\n\nThough the slave had never seen king Zinebi, she guessed by his\nretinue that he must be one of the principal officers of\nDamascus. \"My lord,\" said she, \"that Ganem you inquire for is\ndead; my mistress, his mother, is in that monument, lamenting\nhim.\" The king, not regarding what was said by the slave, caused\nall the house to be diligently searched by his guards for Ganem.\nHe then advanced towards the monument, where he saw the mother\nand daughter sitting on a mat, and their faces appeared to him\nbathed in tears. These poor women immediately veiled themselves,\nas soon as they beheld a man at the door of the dome; but the\nmother, knowing the king of Damascus, got up, and ran to cast\nherself at his feet. \"My good lady,\" said he, \"I was looking for\nyour son, Ganem, is he here?\" \"Alas! sir,\" cried the mother, \"it\nis a long time since he has ceased to be: would to God I had at\nleast put him into his coffin with my own hands, and had had the\ncomfort of having his bones in this monument! O my son, my dear\nson!\" She would have said more, but was oppressed with such\nviolent sorrow that she was unable to proceed.\n\nZinebi was moved; for he was a prince of a mild nature, and had\nmuch compassion for the sufferings of the unfortunate. \"If Ganem\nalone be guilty,\" thought he to himself, \"why should the mother\nand the daughter, who are innocent, be punished? Ah! cruel Haroon\nal Rusheed! what a mortification do you put upon me, in making me\nthe executioner of your vengeance, obliging me to persecute\npersons who have not offended you.\"\n\nThe guards whom the king had ordered to search for Ganem, came\nand told him their search had been vain. He was fully convinced\nof this; the tears of those two women would not leave him any\nroom to doubt. It distracted him to be obliged to execute the\ncaliph's order. \"My good lady,\" said he to Ganem's mother, \"quit\nthis monument with your daughter, it is no place of safety for\nyou.\" They went out, and he, to secure them against any insult,\ntook off his own robe, and covered them both with it, bidding\nthem keep close to him. He then ordered the populace to be let in\nto plunder, which was performed with the utmost rapaciousness,\nand with shouts which terrified Ganem's mother and sister the\nmore, because they knew not the reason. The rabble carried off\nthe richest goods, chests full of wealth, fine Persian and Indian\ncarpets, cushions covered with cloth of gold and silver, fine\nChina ware; in short, all was taken away, till nothing remained\nbut the bare walls of the house: and it was a dismal spectacle\nfor the unhappy ladies, to see all their goods plundered, without\nknowing why they were so cruelly treated.\n\nWhen the house was plundered, Mahummud ordered the civil\nmagistrate to raze the house and monument; and while that was\ndoing, he carried away the mother and daughter to his palace.\nThere it was he redoubled their affliction, by acquainting them\nwith the caliph's will. \"He commands me,\" said he to them, \"to\ncause you to be stripped, and exposed naked for three days to the\nview of the people. It is with the utmost reluctance that I\nexecute such a cruel and ignominious sentence.\" The king\ndelivered these words with such an air, as plainly made it appear\nhis heart was really pierced with grief and compassion. Though\nthe fear of being dethroned prevented his following the dictates\nof his pity, yet he in some measure moderated the rigour of the\ncaliph's orders, by causing large shifts, without sleeves, to be\nmade of coarse horse-hair for Ganem's mother, and his sister.\n\nThe next day, these two victims of the caliph's rage were\nstripped of their clothes, and their horse-hair shifts put upon\nthem; their head-dress was also taken away, so that their\ndishevelled hair hung floating on their backs. The daughter had\nthe finest hair, and it hung down to the ground. In this\ncondition they were exposed to the people. The civil magistrate,\nattended by his officers, were along with them, and they were\nconducted through the city. A crier went before them, who every\nnow and then cried, \"This is the punishment due to those who have\ndrawn on themselves the indignation of the commander of the\nbelievers.\"\n\nWhilst they walked in this manner along the streets of Damascus,\nwith their arms and feet naked, clad in such a strange garment,\nand endeavouring to hide their confusion under their hair, with\nwhich they covered their faces, all the people were dissolved in\ntears; more especially the ladies, considering them as innocent\npersons, as they beheld them through their lattice windows, and\nbeing particularly moved by the daughter's youth and beauty, they\nmade the air ring with their shrieks, as they passed before their\nhouses. The very children, frightened at those shrieks, and at\nthe spectacle that occasioned them, mixed their cries with the\ngeneral lamentation. In short, had an enemy been in Damascus,\nputting all to fire and sword, the consternation could not have\nbeen greater.\n\nIt was near night when this dismal scene concluded. The mother\nand daughter were both conducted back to king Mahummud's palace.\nNot being used to walk bare-foot, they were so spent, that they\nlay a long time in a swoon. The queen of Damascus, highly\nafflicted at their misfortunes, notwithstanding the caliph's\nprohibition to relieve them, sent some of her women to comfort\nthem, with all sorts of refreshments and wine, to recover their\nspirits.\n\nThe queen's women found them still in a swoon, and almost past\nreceiving any benefit by what they offered them. However, with\nmuch difficulty they were brought to themselves. Ganem's mother\nimmediately returned them thanks for their courtesy. \"My good\nmadam,\" said one of the queen's ladies to her, \"we are highly\nconcerned at your affliction, and the queen of Syria, our\nmistress, has done us a favour in employing us to assist you. We\ncan assure you, that princess is much afflicted at your\nmisfortunes, as well as the king her consort.\" Ganem's mother\nentreated the queen's women to return her majesty a thousand\nthanks from her and her daughter, and then directing her\ndiscourse to the lady who spoke to her, \"Madam,\" said she, \"the\nking has not told me why the chief of the believers inflicts so\nmany outrages on us: pray be pleased to tell us what crimes we\nhave been guilty of.\" \"My good lady,\" answered the other, \"the\norigin of your misfortunes proceeds from your son Ganem. He is\nnot dead, as you imagine. He is accused of having seduced the\nbeautiful Fetnah, the best beloved of the caliph's favourites;\nbut having, by flight, withdrawn himself from that prince's\nindignation, the punishment is fallen on you. All condemn the\ncaliph's resentment, but all fear him; and you see king Zinebi\nhimself dares not resist his orders, for fear of incurring his\ndispleasure. All we can do is to pity you, and exhort you to have\npatience.\"\n\n\"I know my son,\" answered Ganem's mother; \"I have educated him\ncarefully, and in that respect which is due to the commander of\nthe believers. He cannot have committed the crime he is accused\nof; I dare answer for his innocence. But I will cease to murmur\nand complain, since it is for him that I suffer, and he is not\ndead. O Ganem!\" added she, in a transport of affection and joy,\n\"my dear son Ganem! is possible that you are still alive? I am no\nlonger concerned for the loss of my fortune; and how harsh and\nunjust soever the caliph's orders may be, I forgive him, provided\nheaven has preserved my son. I am only concerned for my daughter;\nher sufferings alone afflict me; yet I believe her to be so good\na sister as to follow my example.\"\n\nOn hearing these words, the young lady, who till then had\nappeared insensible, turned to her mother, and clasping her arms\nabout her neck, \"Yes, dear mother,\" said she, \"I will always\nfollow your example, whatever extremity your love for my brother\nmay reduce us to.\"\n\nThe mother and daughter thus interchanging their sighs and tears,\ncontinued a considerable time in such moving embraces. In the\nmean time the queen's women, who were much affected at the\nspectacle, omitted no persuasions to prevail with Ganem's mother\nto take some sustenance. She ate a morsel out of complaisance,\nand her daughter did the like.\n\nThe caliph having ordered that Ganem's kindred should be exposed\nthree days successively to the sight of the people, in the\ncondition already mentioned, the unhappy ladies afforded the same\nspectacle the second time next day, from morning till night. But\nthat day and the following, the streets, which at first had been\nfull of people, were now quite empty. All the merchants, incensed\nat the ill usage of Abou Ayoub's widow and daughter, shut up\ntheir shops, and kept themselves close within their houses. The\nladies, instead of looking through their lattice windows,\nwithdrew into the back parts of their houses. There was not a\nperson to be seen in the public places through which those\nunfortunate women were carried. It seemed as if all the\ninhabitants of Damascus had abandoned their city.\n\nOn the fourth day, the king resolving punctually to obey the\ncaliph's orders, though he did not approve of them, sent criers\ninto all quarters of the city to make proclamation, strictly\ncommanding all the inhabitants of Damascus, and strangers, of\nwhat condition soever, upon pain of death, and having their\nbodies cast to the dogs to be devoured, not to receive Ganem's\nmother and sister into their houses, or give them a morsel of\nbread or a drop of water, and, in a word, not to afford them the\nleast support, or hold the least correspondence with them.\n\nWhen the criers had performed what the king had enjoined them,\nthat prince ordered the mother and the daughter to be turned out\nof the palace, and left to their choice to go where they thought\nfit. As soon as they appeared, all persons fled from them, so\ngreat an impression had the late prohibition made upon all. They\neasily perceived that every body shunned them; but not knowing\nthe reason, were much surprised; and their amazement was the\ngreater, when coming into any street, or among any persons, they\nrecollected some of their best friends, who immediately retreated\nwith as much haste as the rest. \"What is the meaning of this,\"\nsaid Ganem's mother; \"do we carry the plague about us? Must the\nunjust and barbarous usage we have received render us odious to\nour fellow-citizens? Come, my child,\" added she, \"let us depart\nfrom Damascus with all speed; let us not stay any longer in a\ncity where we are become frightful to our very friends.\"\n\nThe two wretched ladies, discoursing in this manner, came to one\nof the extremities of the city, and retired to a ruined house to\npass the night. Thither some Mussulmauns, out of charity and\ncompassion, resorted to them after the day was shut in. They\ncarried them provisions, but durst not stay to comfort them, for\nfear of being discovered, and punished for disobeying the\ncaliph's orders.\n\nIn the mean time king Zinebi had let fly a pigeon to give the\ncaliph an account of his exact obedience. He informed him of all\nthat had been executed, and conjured him to direct what he would\nhave done with Ganem's mother and sister. He soon received the\ncaliph's answer in the same way, which was, that he should banish\nthem from Damascus for ever. Immediately the king of Syria sent\nmen to the old house, with orders to take the mother and\ndaughter, and to conduct them three days' journey from Damascus,\nand there to leave them, forbidding them ever to return to the\ncity.\n\nZinebi's men executed their commission, but being less exact\ntheir master, in the strict performance of the caliph's orders,\nthey in pity gave the wretched ladies some small pieces of money,\nand each of them a scrip, which they hung about their necks, to\ncarry their provisions.\n\nIn this miserable state they came to the first village. The\npeasants' wives flocked about them, and, as it appeared through\ntheir disguise that they were people of some condition, asked\nthem what was the occasion of their travelling in a habit that\ndid not seem to belong to them. Instead of answering the\nquestion, they fell to weeping, which only served to heighten the\ncuriosity of the peasants, and to move their compassion. Ganem's\nmother told them what she and her daughter had endured; at which\nthe good countrywomen were sensibly afflicted, and endeavoured to\ncomfort them. They treated them as well as their poverty would\npermit, took off their horse-hair shifts, which were very uneasy\nto them, and put on them others which they gave them, with shoes,\nand something to cover their heads, and save their hair.\n\nHaving expressed their gratitude to those charitable women, Jalib\nal Koolloob and her mother departed from that village, taking\nshort journeys towards Aleppo. They used at dusk to retire near\nor into the mosques, where they passed the night on the mat, if\nthere was any, or else on the bare pavement; and sometimes rested\nin the public places appointed for the use of travellers. As for\nsustenance, they did not want, for they often came to places\nwhere bread, boiled rice, and other provisions are distributed to\nall travellers who desire it.\n\nAt length they came to Aleppo, but would not stay there, and\ncontinuing their journey towards the Euphrates, crossed the\nriver, and entered Mesopotamia, which they traversed as far as\nMoussoul. Thence, notwithstanding all they had endured, they\nproceeded to Bagdad. That was the place they had fixed their\nthoughts upon, hoping to find Ganem, though they ought not to\nhave fancied that he was in a city where the caliph resided; but\nthey hoped, because they wished it; their affection for him\nincreasing instead of diminishing, with their misfortunes. Their\nconversation was generally about him, and they inquired for him\nof all they met. But let us leave Jalib al Koolloob and her\nmother, and return to Fetnah.\n\nShe was still confined closely in the dark tower, since the day\nthat had been so fatal to Ganem and herself. However,\ndisagreeable as her prison was to her, it was much less grievous\nthan the thoughts of Ganem's misfortune, the uncertainty of whose\nfate was a killing affliction. There was scarcely a moment in\nwhich she did not lament him.\n\nThe caliph was accustomed to walk frequently at night within the\nenclosure of his palace, for he was the most inquisitive prince\nin the world, and sometimes, by those night-walks, came to the\nknowledge of things that happened in his court, which would\notherwise never have reached his ear. One of those nights, in his\nwalk, he happened to pass by the dark tower, and fancying he\nheard somebody talk, stops, and drawing near the door to listen,\ndistinctly heard these words, which Fetnah, whose thoughts were\nalways on Ganem, uttered with a loud voice: \"O Ganem, too\nunfortunate Ganem! where are you at this time, whither has thy\ncruel fate led thee? Alas! it is I that have made you wretched!\nwhy did you not let me perish miserably, rather than afford me\nyour generous relief? What melancholy return have you received\nfor your care and respect? The commander of the faithful, who\nought to have rewarded, persecutes you; and in requital for\nhaving always regarded me as a person reserved for his bed, you\nlose your fortune, and are obliged to seek for safety in flight.\nO caliph, barbarous caliph, how can you exculpate yourself, when\nyou shall appear with Ganem before the tribunal of the Supreme\nJudge, and the angels shall testify the truth before your face?\nAll the power you are now invested with, and which makes almost\nthe whole world tremble, will not prevent your being condemned\nand punished for your violent and unjust proceedings.\" Here\nFetnah ceased her complaints, her sighs and tears putting a stop\nto her utterance.\n\nThis was enough to make the caliph reflect. He plainly perceived,\nthat if what he had heard was true, his favourite must be\ninnocent, and that he had been too hasty in giving such orders\nagainst Ganem and his family. Being resolved to be rightly\ninformed in an affair which so nearly concerned him in point of\nequity, on which he valued himself, he immediately returned to\nhis apartment, and that moment ordered Mesrour to repair to the\ndark tower, and bring Fetnah before him.\n\nBy this command, and much more by the caliph's manner of\nspeaking, the chief of the eunuchs guessed that his master\ndesigned to pardon his favourite, and take her to him again. He\nwas overjoyed at the thought, for he respected Fetnah, and had\nbeen much concerned at her disgrace; therefore flying instantly\nto the tower, \"Madam,\" said he to the favourite, with such an air\nas expressed his satisfaction, \"be pleased to follow me; I hope\nyou will never more return to this melancholy abode: the\ncommander of the faithful wishes to speak with you, and I draw\nfrom this a happy omen.\"\n\nFetnah followed Mesrour, who conducted her into the caliph's\ncloset. She prostrated herself before him, and so continued, her\nface bathed in tears. \"Fetnah,\" said the caliph, without bidding\nher rise, \"I think you charge me with violence and injustice. Who\nis he, that, notwithstanding the regard and respell he had for\nme, is in a miserable condition? Speak freely, you know the\nnatural goodness of my disposition, and that I love to do\njustice.\"\n\nBy these words the favourite was convinced that the caliph had\nheard what she had said, and availed herself of so favourable an\nopportunity to clear Ganem. \"Commander of the true believers,\"\nsaid she, \"if I have let fall any word that is not agreeable to\nyour majesty, I most humbly beseech you to forgive me; but he\nwhose innocence and wretched state you desire to be informed of\nis Ganem, the unhappy son of Abou Ayoub, late a rich merchant of\nDamascus. He saved my life from a grave, and afforded me a\nsanctuary in his house. I must own, that, from the first moment\nhe saw me, he perhaps designed to devote himself to me, and\nconceived hopes of engaging me to admit his love. I guessed at\nthis, by the eagerness which he shewed in entertaining me, and\ndoing me all the good offices I so much wanted under the\ncircumstances I was then in; but as soon as he heard that I had\nthe honour to belong to you, 'Ah, madam,' said he, 'that which\nbelongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.' From that\nmoment, I owe this justice to his virtue to declare, his\nbehaviour was always suitable to his words. You, commander of the\ntrue believers, well know with what rigour you have treated him,\nand you will answer for it before the tribunal of God.\"\n\nThe caliph was not displeased with Fetnah for the freedom of\nthese words; \"But may I,\" said he, \"rely on the assurance you\ngive me of Ganem's virtue?\" \"Yes,\" replied Fetnah, \"you may. I\nwould not for the world conceal the truth from you; and to prove\nto you that I am sincere, I must make a confession, which perhaps\nmay displease you, but I beg pardon of your majesty beforehand.\"\n\"Speak, daughter,\" said Haroon al Rusheed, \"I forgive you all,\nprovided you conceal nothing from me.\" \"Well, then,\" replied\nFetnah, \"let me inform you, that Ganem's respectful behaviour,\njoined to all the good offices he did me, gained him my esteem. I\nwent further yet: you know the tyranny of love: I felt some\ntender inclination rising in my breast. He perceived it; but far\nfrom availing himself of my frailty, and notwithstanding the\nflame which consumed him, he still remained steady in his duty,\nand all that his passion could force from him were the words I\nhave already repeated to your majesty, 'That which belongs to the\nmaster is forbidden to the slave.'\"\n\nThis ingenuous confession might have provoked any other man than\nthe caliph; but it completely appeased that prince. He commanded\nher to rise, and making her sit by him, \"Tell me your story,\"\nsaid he, \"from the beginning to the end.\" She did so, with\nartless simplicity, passing slightly over what regarded Zobeide,\nand enlarging on the obligations she owed to Ganem; but above\nall, she highly extolled his discretion, endeavouring by that\nmeans to make the caliph sensible that she had been under the\nnecessity of remaining concealed in Ganem's house, to deceive\nZobeide. She concluded with the young merchant's escape, which\nshe plainly told the caliph she had compelled him to, that he\nmight avoid his indignation.\n\nWhen she had done speaking, the caliph said to her, \"I believe\nall you have told me; but why was it so long before you let me\nhear from you? Was there any need of staying a whole month after\nmy return, before you sent me word where you were?\" \"Commander of\nthe true believers,\" answered Fetnah, \"Ganem went abroad so very\nseldom, that you need not wonder we were not the first that heard\nof your return. Besides, Ganem, who took upon him to deliver the\nletter I wrote to Nouron Nihar, was a long time before he could\nfind an opportunity of putting it into her own hands.\"\n\n\"It is enough, Fetnah,\" replied the caliph; \"I acknowledge my\nfault, and would willingly make amends for it, by heaping favours\non the young merchant of Damascus. Consider, therefore, what I\ncan do for him. Ask what you think fit, and I will grant it.\"\nHereupon the favourite fell down at the caliph's feet, with her\nface to the ground; and rising again, said, \"Commander of the\ntrue believers, after returning your majesty thanks for Ganem, I\nmost humbly entreat you to cause it to be published throughout\nyour do minions, that you pardon the son of Abou Ayoub, and that\nhe may safely come to you.\" \"I must do more,\" rejoined the\nprince, \"in requital for having saved your life, and the respect\nhe has strewn for me, to make amends for the loss of his fortune.\nIn short, to repair the wrong I have done to himself and his\nfamily, I give him to you for a husband.\" Fetnah had no words\nexpressive enough to thank the caliph for his generosity: she\nthen withdrew into the apartment she had occupied before her\nmelancholy adventure. The same furniture was still in it, nothing\nhad been removed; but that which pleased her most was, to find\nGanem's chests and bales, which Mesrour had received the caliph's\norders to convey thither.\n\nThe next day Haroon al Rusheed ordered the grand vizier, to cause\nproclamation to be made throughout all his dominions, that he\npardoned Ganem the son of Abou Ayoub; but this proved of no\neffect, for a long time elapsed without any news of the young\nmerchant. Fetnah concluded, that he had not been able to survive\nthe pain of losing her. A dreadful uneasiness seized her mind;\nbut as hope is the last thing which forsakes lovers, she\nentreated the caliph to give her leave to seek for Ganem herself;\nwhich being granted, she took a purse containing a thousand\npieces of gold, and went one morning out of the palace, mounted\non a mule from the caliph's stables, very richly caparisoned.\nBlack eunuchs attended her, with a hand placed on each side of\nthe mule's back.\n\nThus she went from mosque to mosque, bestowing her alms among the\ndevotees of the Mahummedan religion, desiring their prayers for\nthe accomplishment of an affair, on which the happiness of two\npersons, she told them, depended. She spend the whole day and the\nthousand pieces of gold in giving alms at the mosques, and\nreturned to the palace in the evening.\n\nThe next day she took another purse of the same value, and in the like\nequipage as the day before, went to the square of the jewellers'\nshops, and stopping at the gateway without alighting, sent one of her\nblack eunuchs for the syndic or chief of them. The syndic, who was a\nmost charitable man, and spent above two-thirds of his income in\nrelieving poor strangers, sick or in distress, did not make Fetnah\nwait, knowing by her dress that she was a lady belonging to the\npalace. \"I apply myself to you,\" said she, putting the purse into his\nhands, \"as a person whose piety is celebrated throughout the city. I\ndesire you to distribute that gold among the poor strangers you\nrelieve, for I know you make it your business to assist those who\napply to your charity. I am also satisfied that you prevent their\nwants, and that nothing is more grateful to you, than to have an\nopportunity of relieving their misery.\" \"Madam,\" answered the syndic,\n\"I shall obey your commands with pleasure; but if you desire to\nexercise your charity in person, and will be pleased to step to my\nhouse, you will there see two women worthy of your compassion; I met\nthem yesterday as they were coming into the city; they were in a\ndeplorable condition, and it moved me the more, because I thought they\nwere persons of rank. Through all the rags that covered them,\nnotwithstanding the impression the sun has made on their faces, I\ndiscovered a noble air, not to be commonly found in those people I\nrelieve. I carried them both to my house, and delivered them to my\nwife, who was of the same opinion with me. She caused her slaves to\nprovide them good beds, whilst she herself led them to our warm bath,\nand gave them clean linen. We know not as yet who they are, because we\nwish to let them take some rest before we trouble them with our\nquestions.\"\n\nFetnah, without knowing why, felt a curiosity to see them. The\nsyndic would have conducted her to his house, but she would not\ngive him the trouble, and was satisfied that a slave should shew\nher the way. She alighted at the door, and followed the syndic's\nslave, who was gone before to give notice to his mistress, she\nbeing then in the chamber with Jalib al Koolloob and her mother,\nfor they were the persons the syndic had been speaking of to\nFetnah.\n\nThe syndic's wife being informed by the slave, that a lady from\nthe palace was in her house, was hastening to meet her; but\nFetnah, who had followed the slave, did not give her time: on her\ncoming into the chamber, the syndic's wife prostrated herself\nbefore her, to express the respect she had for all who belonged\nto the caliph. Fetnah raised her up, and said, \"My good lady, I\ndesire you will let me speak with those two strangers that\narrived at Bagdad last night.\" \"Madam,\" answered the syndic's\nwife, \"they lie in those beds you see by each other.\" The\nfavourite immediately drew near the mother's, and viewing her\ncarefully, \"Good woman,\" said she, \"I come to offer you my\nassistance: I have considerable interest in this city, and may be\nof service to you and your companion.\" \"Madam,\" answered Ganem's\nmother, \"I perceive by your obliging offers, that Heaven has not\nquite forsaken us, though we had cause to believe it had, after\nso many misfortunes as have befallen us.\" Having uttered these\nwords, she wept so bitterly that Fetnah and the syndic's wife\ncould not forbear letting fall some tears.\n\nThe caliph's favourite having dried up hers, said to Ganem's\nmother, \"Be so kind as to tell us your misfortunes, and recount\nyour story. You cannot make the relation to any persons better\ndisposed to use all possible means to comfort you.\" \"Madam,\"\nreplied Abou Ayoub's disconsolate widow, \"a favourite of the\ncommander of the true believers, a lady whose name is Fetnah, is\nthe occasion of all our misfortunes.\" These words were like a\nthunderbolt to the favourite; but suppressing her agitation and\nconcern, she suffered Ganem's mother to proceed in the following\nmanner: \"I am the widow of Abou Ayoub, a merchant of Damascus; I\nhad a son called Ganem, who, coming to trade at Bagdad, has been\naccused of carrying off Fetnah. The caliph caused search to be\nmade for him every where, to put him to death; but not finding\nhim, he wrote to the king of Damascus, to cause our house to be\nplundered and razed, and to expose my daughter and myself three\ndays successively, naked, to the populace, and then to banish us\nout of Syria for ever. But how unworthy soever our usage has\nbeen, I should be still comforted were my son alive, and I could\nmeet with him. What a pleasure would it be for his sister and me\nto see him again! Embracing him we should forget the loss of our\nproperty, and all the evils we have suffered on his account.\nAlas! I am fully persuaded he is only the innocent cause of them;\nand that he is no more guilty towards the caliph than his sister\nand myself.\"\n\n\"No doubt of it,\" said Fetnah, interrupting her there, \"he is no\nmore guilty than you are; I can assure you of his innocence; for\nI am that very Fetnah, you so much complain of; who, through some\nfatality in my stars, have occasioned you so many misfortunes. To\nme you must impute the loss of your son, if he is no more; but if\nI have occasioned your misfortune, I can in some measure relieve\nit. I have already justified Ganem to the caliph; who has caused\nit to be proclaimed throughout his dominions, that he pardons the\nson of Abou Ayoub; and doubt not he will do you as much good as\nhe has done you injury. You are no longer his enemies. He waits\nfor Ganem, to requite the service he has done me, by uniting our\nfortunes; he gives me to him for his consort, therefore look on\nme as your daughter, and permit me to vow eternal duty and\naffection.\" Having so said, she bowed down on Ganem's mother,\nwho was so astonished that she could return no answer. Fetnah\nheld her long in her arms, and only left her to embrace the\ndaughter, who, sitting up, held out her arms to receive her.\n\nWhen the caliph's favourite had strewn the mother and daughter\nall tokens of affection, as Ganem's wife, she said to them, \"The\nwealth Ganem had in this city is not lost, it is in my apartment\nin the palace; but I know all the treasure of the world cannot\ncomfort you without Ganem, if I may judge of you by myself. Blood\nis no less powerful than love in great minds; but why should we\ndespair of seeing him again? We shall find him; the happiness of\nmeeting with you makes me conceive fresh hopes. Perhaps this is\nthe last day of your sufferings, and the beginning of a greater\nfelicity than you enjoyed in Damascus, when Ganem was with you.\"\n\nFetnah would have proceeded, but the syndic of the jewellers coming in\ninterrupted her: \"Madam,\" said he to her, \"I come from seeing a very\nmoving object, it is a young man, whom a camel-driver had just carried\nto an hospital: he was bound with cords on a camel, because he had not\nstrength enough to sit. They had already unbound him, and were\ncarrying him into the hospital, when I happened to pass by. I went up\nto the young man, viewed him attentively, and fancied his countenance\nwas not altogether unknown to me. I asked him some questions\nconcerning his family and his country; but all the answers I could get\nwere sighs and tears. I took pity on him, and being so much used to\nsick people, perceived that he had need to have particular care taken\nof him. I would not permit him to be put into the hospital; for I am\ntoo well acquainted with their way of managing the sick, and am\nsensible of the incapacity of the physicians. I have caused him to be\nbrought to my own house, by my slaves; and they are now in a private\nroom where I placed him, putting on some of my own linen, and treating\nhim as they would do myself.\"\n\nFetnah's heart beat at these words of the jeweller, and she felt\na sudden emotion, for which she could not account: \"Shew me,\"\nsaid she to the syndic, \"into the sick man's room; I should be\nglad to see him.\" The syndic conducted her, and whilst she was\ngoing thither, Ganem's mother said to Jalib al Koolloob, \"Alas!\ndaughter, wretched as that sick stranger is, your brother, if he\nbe living, is not perhaps in a more happy condition.\"\n\nThe caliph's favourite coming into the chamber of the sick\nstranger, drew near the bed, in which the syndic's slaves had\nalready laid him. She saw a young man, whose eyes were closed,\nhis countenance pale, disfigured, and bathed in tears. She gazed\nearnestly on him, her heart beat, and she fancied she beheld\nGanem; but yet she would not believe her eyes. Though she found\nsomething of Ganem in the objets she beheld, yet in other\nrespects he appeared so different, that she durst not imagine it\nwas he that lay before her. Unable, however, to withstand the\nearnest desire of being satisfied, \"Ganem,\" said she, with a\ntrembling voice, \"is it you I behold?\" Having spoken these words,\nshe stopped to give the young man time to answer, but observing\nthat he seemed insensible; \"Alas! Ganem,\" added she, \"it is not\nyou that I address! My imagination being overcharged with your\nimage, has given to a stranger a deceitful resemblance. The son\nof Abou Ayoub, however indisposed, would know the voice of\nFetnah.\" At the name of Fetnah, Ganem (for it was really he)\nopened his eyes, sprang up, and knowing the caliph's favourite;\n\"Ah! madam,\" said he, \"by what miracle\"  He could say no more;\nsuch a sudden transport of joy seized him that he fainted away.\nFetnah and the syndic did all they could to bring him to himself;\nbut as soon as they perceived he began to revive, the syndic\ndesired the lady to withdraw, lest the sight of her should\nheighten his disorder.\n\nThe young man having recovered, looked all around, and not seeing\nwhat he sought, exclaimed, \"What is become of you, charming\nFetnah? Did you really appear before my eyes, or was it only an\nillusion?\" \"No, sir,\" said the syndic, \"it was no illusion. It\nwas I that caused the lady to withdraw, but you shall see her\nagain, as soon as you are in a condition to bear the interview.\nYou now stand in need of rest, and nothing ought to obstruct your\ntaking it. The situation of your affairs is altered, since you\nare, as I suppose, that Ganem, in favour of whom the commander of\nthe true believers has caused a proclamation to be made in\nBagdad, declaring, that he forgives him what is passed. Be\nsatisfied, for the present, with knowing so much; the lady, who\njust now spoke to you, will acquaint you with the rest, therefore\nthink of nothing but recovering your health; I will contribute\nall in my power towards it.\" Having spoke these words, he left\nGanem to take his rest, and went himself to provide for him such\nmedicines as were proper to recover his strength, exhausted by\nhard living and toil.\n\nDuring this time Fetnah was in the room with Jalib al Koolloob\nand her mother, where almost the same scene was acted over again;\nfor when Ganem's mother understood that the sick stranger whom\nthe syndic had brought into his house was Ganem himself, she was\nso overjoyed, that she also swooned away, and when, with the\nassistance of Fetnah and the syndic's wife, she was again come to\nherself, she would have arisen to go and see her son; but the\nsyndic coming in, hindered her, representing that Ganem was so\nweak and emaciated, that it would endanger his life to excite in\nhim those emotions, which must be the consequence of the\nunexpected sight of a beloved mother and sister. There was no\noccasion for the syndic's saying any more to Ganem's mother; as\nsoon as she was told that she could not converse with her son,\nwithout hazarding his life, she ceased insisting to go and see\nhim. Fetnah then said, \"Let us bless Heaven for having brought us\nall together. I will return to the palace to give the caliph an\naccount of these adventures, and tomorrow morning I will return\nto you.\" This said, she embraced the mother and the daughter, and\nwent away. As soon as she came to the palace, she sent Mesrour to\nrequest a private audience of the caliph, which was immediately\ngranted; and being brought into the prince's closet, where he was\nalone, she prostrated herself at his feet, with her face on the\nground, according to custom. He commanded her to rise, and having\nmade her sit down, asked whether she had heard any news of Ganem?\n\"Commander of the true believers,\" said she, \"I have been so\nsuccessful, that I have found him, and also his mother and\nsister.\" The caliph was curious to know how she had discovered\nthem in so short a time, and she satisfied his inquiries, saying\nso many things in commendation of Ganem's mother and sister, he\ndesired to see them as well as the young merchant.\n\nThough Haroon al Rusheed was passionate, and in his heat\nsometimes guilty of cruel actions; yet he was just, and the most\ngenerous prince in the world, when the storm of anger was over,\nand he was made sensible of the wrong he had done. Having\ntherefore no longer cause to doubt but that he had unjustly\npersecuted Ganem and his family, and had publicly wronged them,\nhe resolved to make them public satisfaction. \"I am overjoyed,\"\nsaid he to Fetnah, \"that your search has proved so successful; it\nis a real satisfaction to me, not so much for your sake as for my\nown. I will keep the promise I have made you. You shall marry\nGanem, and I here declare you are no longer my slave; you are\nfree. Go back to that young merchant, and as soon as he has\nrecovered his health, you shall bring him to me with his mother\nand sister.\"\n\nThe next morning early Fetnah repaired to the syndic of the\njewellers, being impatient to hear of Ganem's health, and tell\nthe mother and daughter the good news she had for them. The first\nperson she met was the syndic, who told her that Ganem had rested\nwell that night; and that his disorder proceeding altogether from\nmelancholy, the cause being removed, he would soon recover his\nhealth.\n\nAccordingly the son of Abou Ayoub was speedily much amended.\nRest, and the good medicines he had taken, but above all the\ndifferent situation of his mind, had wrought so good an effect,\nthat the syndic thought he might without danger see his mother,\nhis sister, and his mistress, provided he was prepared to receive\nthem; because there was ground to fear, that, not knowing his\nmother and sister were at Bagdad, the sight of them might\noccasion too great surprise and joy. It was therefore resolved,\nthat Fetnah should first go alone into Ganem's chamber, and then\nmake a sign to the two other ladies to appear, when she thought\nit was proper.\n\nMatters being so ordered, the syndic announced Fetnah's coming to\nthe sick man, who was so transported to see her, that he was\nagain near fainting away, \"Well, Ganem,\" said she, drawing near\nto his bed, \"you have again found your Fetnah, whom you thought\nyou had lost for ever.\" \"Ah! madam,\" exclaimed he, eagerly\ninterrupting her, \"what miracle has restored you to my sight? I\nthought you were in the caliph's palace; he has doubtless\nlistened to you. You have dispelled his jealousy, and he has\nrestored you to his favour.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear Ganem,\" answered Fetnah, \"I have cleared myself\nbefore the commander of the true believers, who, to make amends\nfor the wrong he has done you, bestows me on you for a wife.\"\nThese last words occasioned such an excess of joy in Ganem, that\nhe knew not for a while how to express himself, otherwise than by\nthat passionate silence so well known to lovers. At length he\nbroke out in these words: \"Beautiful Fetnah, may I give credit to\nwhat you tell me? May I believe that the caliph really resigns\nyou to Abou Ayoub's son?\" \"Nothing is more certain,\" answered the\nlady. \"The caliph, who before caused search to be made for you,\nto take away your life, and who in his fury caused your mother\nand your sister to suffer a thousand indignities, desires now to\nsee you, that he may reward the respect you had for him; and\nthere is no question but that he will load your family with\nfavours.\"\n\nGanem asked, what the caliph had done to his mother and sister,\nwhich Fetnah told him; and he could not forbear letting fall some\ntears at the relation, notwithstanding the thoughts which arose\nin his mind at the prospect of being married to his mistress. But\nwhen Fetnah informed him, that they were actually in Bagdad, and\nin the same house with him, he appeared so impatient to see them,\nthat the favourite could no longer defer giving him the\nsatisfaction; and accordingly called them in. They were at the\ndoor waiting for that moment. They entered, went up to Ganem, and\nembracing him in their turns, kissed him a thousand times. What\ntears were shed amidst those embraces! Ganem's face was bathed\nwith them, as well as his mother's and sisters; and Fetnah let\nfall abundance. The syndic himself and his wife were so moved at\nthe spectacle, that they could not forbear weeping, nor\nsufficiently admire the secret workings of Providence which had\nbrought together into their house four persons, whom fortune had\nso cruelly persecuted.\n\nWhen they had dried up their tears, Ganem drew them afresh, by\nthe recital of what he had suffered from the day he left Fetnah,\ntill the moment the syndic brought him to his house. He told\nthem, that having taken refuge in a small village, he there fell\nsick; that some charitable peasants had taken care of him, but\nfinding he did not recover, a camel-driver had undertaken to\ncarry him to the hospital at Bagdad. Fetnah also told them all\nthe uneasiness of her imprisonment, how the caliph, having heard\nher talk in the tower, had sent for her into his closet, and how\nshe had cleared herself. In conclusion, when they had related\nwhat accidents had befallen them, Fetnah said, \"Let us bless\nHeaven, which has brought us all together again, and let us think\nof nothing but the happiness that awaits us. As soon as Ganem has\nrecovered his health, he must appear before the caliph, with his\nmother and sister; but I will go and make some provision for\nthem.\"\n\nThis said, she went to the palace, and soon returned with a purse\ncontaining a thousand pieces of gold, which she delivered to the\nsyndic, desiring him to buy apparel for the mother and daughter.\nThe syndic, who was a man of a good taste, chose such as were\nvery handsome, and had them made up with all expedition. They\nwere finished in three days, and Ganem finding himself strong\nenough, prepared to go abroad; but on the day he had appointed to\npay his respects to the caliph, while he was making ready, with\nhis mother and sister, the grand vizier, Jaaffier came to the\nsyndic's house.\n\nHe had come on horseback, attended by a great number of officers.\n\"Sir,\" said he to Ganem, as soon as he entered, \"I am come from\nthe commander of the true believers, my master and yours; the\norders I have differ much from those which I do not wish to\nrevive in your memory; I am to bear you company, and to present\nyou to the caliph, who is desirous to see you.\" Ganem returned no\nother answer to the vizier's compliment, than by profoundly\nbowing his head, and then mounted a horse brought from the\ncaliph's stables, which he managed very gracefully. The mother\nand daughter were mounted on mules belonging to the palace, and\nwhilst Fetnah on another mule led them by a bye-way to the\nprince's court, Jaaffier conducted Ganem, and brought him into\nthe hall of audience. The caliph was sitting on his throne,\nencompassed with emirs, viziers, and other attendants and\ncourtiers, Arabs, Persians, Egyptians, Africans, and Syrians, of\nhis own dominions, not to mention strangers.\n\nWhen the vizier had conducted Ganem to the foot of the throne,\nthe young merchant paid his obeisance, prostrating himself with\nhis face to the ground, and then rising, made a handsome\ncompliment in verse, which, though the effusion of the moment,\nmet with the approbation of the whole court. After his\ncompliment, the caliph caused him to approach, and said, \"I am\nglad to see you, and desire to hear from your own mouth where you\nfound my favourite, and all that you have done for her.\" Ganem\nobeyed, and appeared so sincere, that the caliph was convinced of\nhis veracity. He ordered a very rich vest to be given him,\naccording to the custom observed towards those who are admitted\nto audience. After which he said to him, \"Ganem, I will have you\nlive in my court.\" \"Commander of the true believers,\" answered\nthe young merchant, \"a slave has no will but his master's, on\nwhom his life and fortune depend.\" The caliph was highly pleased\nwith Ganem's reply, and assigned him a considerable pension. He\nthen descended from his throne, and causing only Ganem and the\ngrand vizier, follow him, retired into his own apartment.\n\nNot questioning but that Fetnah was in waiting, with Abou Ayoub's\nwidow and daughter, he caused them to be called in. They\nprostrated themselves before him: he made them rise; and was so\ncharmed by Jalib al Koolloob's beauty, that, after viewing her\nvery attentively, he said, \"I am so sorry for having treated your\ncharms so unworthily, that I owe them such a satisfaction as may\nsurpass the injury I have done. I take you to wife; and by that\nmeans shall punish Zobeide, who shall become the first cause of\nyour good fortune, as she was of your past sufferings. This is\nnot all,\" added he, turning towards Ganem's mother; \"you are\nstill young, I believe you will not disdain to be allied to my\ngrand vizier, I give you to Jaaffier, and you, Fetnah, to Ganem.\nLet a cauzee and witnesses be called, and the three contracts be\ndrawn up and signed immediately.\" Ganem would have represented to\nthe caliph, that it would be honour enough for his sister to be\none of his favourites; but he was resolved to marry her.\n\nHaroon thought this such an extraordinary story, that he ordered\nhis historiographer to commit it to writing with all its\ncircumstances. It was afterwards laid up in his library, and many\ncopies being transcribed, it became public.\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Volume 1.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                    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 2\n\n\n                             London\n                      Pickering and Chatto\n                              1890\n\n\n\n\n                     Contents of Volume II.\n\n\nThe Story of the Little Hunch-Back\n     The Story Told by the Christian Merchant\n     The Story Told by the Sultan of Casgar's Purveyor\n     The Story Told by the Jewish Physician\n     The Story Told by the Tailor\n     The Story Told by the Barber\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Eldest Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Second Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Third Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Fourth Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Fifth Brother\n     The Story Told by the Barber's Sixth Brother\n\nThe History of Aboulhassen Ali Ebn Ecar, and Schemselnihar,\nFavourite of Caliph Haroon Al Rusheed\n\nThe Story of the Loves of Kummir Al Zummaun, Prince of the Isles\nof the Children of\nKhaledan, and of Badoura, Princess of China\n\nThe Story of the Princes Amgiad and Assad\n     The Story of the Prince Amgiad and a Lady of the City of\nMagicians\n\nThe Story of Noor Ad Deen and the Fair Persian\n\n\n\n\n              THE STORY OF THE LITTLE HUNCH-BACK.\n\n\n\nThere was in former times at Casgar, on the extreme boundaries of\nTartary, a tailor who had a pretty wife, whom he affectionately\nloved, and by whom he was beloved with reciprocal tenderness. One\nday while he was at work, a little hunch-back seated himself at\nthe shop door and began to sing, and play upon a tabor. The\ntailor was pleased with his performance, and resolved to take him\nto his house to entertain his wife: \"This little fellow,\" said\nhe, \"will divert us both this evening.\" He accordingly invited\nhim, and the other readily accepted the invitation: so the tailor\nshut up his shop, and carried him home. Immediately after their\narrival the tailor's wife placed before them a good dish of fish;\nbut as the little man was eating, he unluckily swallowed a bone,\nwhich, notwithstanding all that the tailor and his wife could do,\nchoked him. This accident greatly alarmed them both, dreading, if\nthe magistrates should hear of it, that they would be punished as\nmurderers. However, the husband devised a scheme to get rid of\nthe corpse. He reflected that a Jewish doctor lived just by, and\nhaving formed his plan, his wife and he took the corpse, the one\nby the feet and the other by the head, and carried it to the\nphysician's house. They knocked at the door, from which a steep\nflight of stairs led to his chamber. The servant maid came down\nwithout any light, and opening the door, asked what they wanted.\n\"Have the goodness,\" said the tailor, \"to go up again, and tell\nyour master we have brought him a man who is very ill, and wants\nhis advice. Here,\" continued he, putting a piece of money into\nher hand, \"give him that beforehand, to convince him that we do\nnot mean to impose.\" While the servant was gone up to inform her\nmaster, the tailor and his wife hastily conveyed the hunchbacked\ncorpse to the head of the stairs, and leaving it there, hurried\naway.\n\nIn the mean time, the maid told the doctor, that a man and woman\nwaited for him at the door, desiring he would come down and look\nat a sick man whom they had brought with them, and clapped into\nhis hand the money she had received. The doctor was transported\nwith joy; being paid beforehand, he thought it must needs be a\ngood patient, and should not be neglected. \"Light, light,\" cried\nhe to the maid; \"follow me quickly.\" As he spoke, he hastily ran\ntowards the head of the stairs without waiting for a light, and\ncame against the corpse with so much violence that he\nprecipitated it to the bottom, and had nearly fallen with it.\n\"Bring me a light,\" cried he to the maid; \"quick, quick.\" At last\nshe brought one, and he went down stairs with her; but when he\nsaw that what he had kicked down was a dead man, he was so\nfrightened, that he invoked Moses, Aaron, Joshua, Esdras, and all\nthe other prophets of his nation. \"Unhappy man that I am,\" said\nhe, \"why did I attempt to come without a light! I have killed the\npoor fellow who was brought to me to be cured: doubtless I am the\ncause of his death, and unless Esdras's ass come to assist me, I\nam ruined: Mercy on me, they will be here out of hand, and drag\nme out of my house for a murderer.\"\n\nNotwithstanding the perplexity and confusion into which he was\nthrown, he had the precaution to shut his door, for fear any one\npassing by should observe the accident of which he reckoned\nhimself to be the author. He then took the corpse into his wife's\nchamber, who was ready to swoon at the sight. \"Alas,\" cried she,\n\"we are utterly ruined and undone, unless we can devise some\nexpedient to get the corpse out of our house this night. If we\nharbour it till morning we are lost. What a deplorable misfortune\nis this! What have you done to kill this man?\" \"That is not now\nthe question,\" replied the Jew; \"our business at present is, to\nfind a remedy for the evil which threatens us.\"\n\nThe doctor and his wife consulted how to dispose of the corpse\nthat night. The doctor racked his brain in vain, he could not\nthink of any stratagem to relieve his embarrassment; but his\nwife, who was more fertile in invention, said, \"A thought is just\ncome into my head; let us carry the corpse to the terrace of our\nhouse, and throw it down the chimney of our Mussulmaun\nneighbour.\"\n\nThis Mussulmaun was one of the sultan's purveyors for furnishing\noil, butter, and articles of a similar nature, and had a magazine\nin his house, where the rats and mice made prodigious havoc.\n\nThe Jewish doctor approving the proposed expedient, the wife and\nhe took the little hunch-back up to the roof of the house; and\nclapping ropes under his arm-pits, let him down the chimney into\nthe purveyor's chamber so dexterously that he stood upright\nagainst the wall, as if he had been alive. When they found he had\nreached the bottom, they pulled up the ropes, and left the corpse\nin that posture. They were scarcely got down into their chamber,\nwhen the purveyor, who had just returned from a wedding feast,\nwent into his room, with a lanthorn in his hand. He was not a\nlittle surprised to discover a man standing in his chimney; but\nbeing a stout fellow, and apprehending him to be a thief, he took\nup a stick, and making straight up to the hunch-back, \"Ah!\" said\nhe, \"I thought the rats and mice ate my butter and tallow; but it\nis you who come down the chimney to rob me? However, I think you\nwill have no wish to come here again.\" Upon this he attacked\nhunch-back, and struck him several times with his stick. The\ncorpse fell down flat on the ground, and the purveyor redoubled\nhis blows. But, observing that the body did not move, he stood a\nlittle time to regard it; and then, perceiving it to be dead,\nfear succeeded his anger. \"Wretched man that I am,\" said he,\n\"what have I done! I have killed a man; alas, I have carried my\nrevenge too far. Good God, unless thou pity me my life is gone!\nCursed, ten thousand times accursed, be the fat and the oil that\noccasioned me to commit so criminal an action.\" He stood pale and\nthunderstruck; he fancied he already saw the officers come to\ndrag him to condign punishment, and could not tell what\nresolution to take.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar's purveyor had never noticed the little\nman's hump-back when he was beating him, but as soon as he\nperceived it, he uttered a thousand imprecations against him.\n\"Ah, thou cursed hunch-back,\" cried he, \"thou crooked wretch,\nwould to God thou hadst robbed me of all my fat, and I had not\nfound thee here. I then should not have been thrown into this\nperplexity on account of this and thy vile hunch. Ye stars that\ntwinkle in the heavens, give your light to none but me in this\ndangerous juncture.\" As soon as he had uttered these words, he\ntook the crooked corpse upon his shoulders, and carried it to the\nend of the street, where he placed it in an upright posture\nagainst a shop; he then returned without once looking behind him.\n\nA few minutes before day-break, a Christian merchant, who was\nvery rich, and furnished the sultan's palace with various\narticles, having sat up all night at a debauch, happened to come\nfrom his house in this direction on his way to the bath. Though\nhe was intoxicated, he was sensible that the night was far spent,\nand that the people would soon be called to morning prayers; he\ntherefore quickened his pace to get to the bath in time, lest\nsome Mussulmaun, in his way to the mosque, should meet him and\ncarry him to prison for a drunkard. When he came to the end of\nthe street, he had occasion to stop by the shop where the\nsultan's purveyor had put the hunch-backed corpse; which being\njostled by him, tumbled upon the merchant's back. The merchant\nthinking he was attacked by a robber, knocked it down, and after\nredoubling his blows, cried out \"Thieves!\"\n\nThe outcry alarmed the watch, who came up immediately, and\nfinding a Christian beating a Mussulmaun (for hump-back was of\nour religion), \"What reason have you,\" said he, \"to abuse a\nMussulmaun in this manner?\" \"He would have robbed me,\" replied\nthe merchant, \"and jumped upon my back in order to take me by the\nthroat.\" \"If he did,\" said the watch, \"you have revenged yourself\nsufficiently; come, get off him.\" At the same time he stretched\nout his hand to help little hump-back up, but observing he was\ndead, \"Oh!\" said he, \"is it thus that a Christian dares to\nassassinate a Mussulmaun?\" So saying, he laid hold of the\nChristian, and carried him to the house of the officer of the\npolice, where he was kept till the judge was stirring, and ready\nto examine him. In the mean time, the Christian merchant became\nsober, and the more he reflected upon his adventure, the less\ncould he conceive how such slight blows of his fist could have\nkilled the man.\n\nThe judge having heard the report of the watch, and viewed the\ncorpse, which they had taken care to bring to his house,\ninterrogated the Christian merchant, who could not deny the\ncrime, though he had not committed it. But the judge considering\nthat little hump-back belonged to the sultan, for he was one of\nhis buffoons, would not put the Christian to death till he knew\nthe sultan's pleasure. For this end he went to the palace, and\nacquainted the sultan with what had happened; and received this\nanswer: \"I have no mercy to show to a Christian who kills a\nMussulmaun.\" Upon this the judge ordered a stake to be prepared,\nand sent criers all over the city to proclaim that they were\nabout to impale a Christian for killing a Mussulmaun.\n\nAt length the merchant was brought to the place of execution; and\nthe executioner was about to do his duty, when the sultan's\npurveyor pushed through the crowd, calling to him to stop for\nthat the Christian had not committed the murder, but he himself\nhad done it. Upon that, the officer who attended the execution\nbegan to question the purveyor, who told him every circumstance\nof his having killed the little hunchback, and how he had\nconveyed his corpse to the place where the Christian merchant had\nfound it. \"You were about,\" added he, \"to put to death an\ninnocent person; for how can he be guilty of the death of a man\nwho was dead before he touched him? It is enough for me to have\nkilled a Mussulmaun without loading my conscience with the death\nof a Christian who is not guilty.\"\n\nThe sultan of Casgar's purveyor having publicly charged himself\nwith the death of the little hunchbacked man, the officer could\ndo no less than execute justice on the merchant. \"Let the\nChristian go,\" said he to the executioner, \"and impale this man\nin his stead, since it appears by his own confession that he is\nguilty.\" Thereupon the executioner released the merchant, and\nseized the purveyor; but just as he was going to impale him, he\nheard the voice of the Jewish doctor, earnestly intreating him to\nsuspend the execution, and make room for him to approach.\n\nWhen he appeared before the judge, \"My lord,\" said he, \"this\nMussulmaun you are going to execute is not guilty. I am the\ncriminal. Last night a man and a woman, unknown to me, came to my\ndoor with a sick man; my maid went and opened it without a light,\nand received from them a piece of money with a commission to come\nand desire me, in their name, to step down and look at the\npatient. While she was delivering her message, they conveyed the\nsick person to the stair-head, and disappeared. I went, without\nstaying till my servant had lighted a candle, and in the dark\nhappened to stumble upon the sick person, and kick him down\nstairs. At length I saw he was dead, and that it was the crooked\nMussulmaun whose death you are now about to avenge. My wife and I\ntook the corpse, and, after conveying it up to the roof of the\npurveyor, our next neighbour, whom you were going to put to death\nunjustly, let it down the chimney into his chamber. The purveyor\nfinding it in his house, took the little man for a thief, and\nafter beating him concluded he had killed him. But that it was\nnot so you will be convinced by this my deposition; I am the sole\nauthor of the murder; and though it was committed undesignedly, I\nam resolved to expiate my crime, that I may not have to charge\nmyself with the death of two Mussulmauns.\"\n\nThe chief justice being persuaded that the Jewish doctor was the\nmurderer, gave orders to the executioner to seize him and release\nthe purveyor. Accordingly the doctor was just going to be\nimpaled, when the tailor appeared, crying to the executioner to\nhold his hand, and make room for him, that he might come and make\nhis confession to the chief judge. Room being made, \"My lord,\"\nsaid he, \"you have narrowly escaped taking away the lives of\nthree innocent persons; but if you will have the patience to hear\nme, I will discover to you the real murderer of the crook backed\nman. If his death is to be expiated by another, that must be\nmine. Yesterday, towards the evening, as I was at work in my\nshop, and was disposed to be merry, the little hunch-back came to\nmy door half-drunk, and sat down. He sung a little, and so I\ninvited him to pass the evening at my house. He accepted the\ninvitation and went in with me. We sat down to supper and I gave\nhim a plate of fish; but in eating, a bone stuck in his throat,\nand though my wife and I did our utmost to relieve him, he died\nin a few minutes. His death afflicted us extremely, and for fear\nof being charged with it, we carried the corpse to the Jewish\ndoctor's house and knocked. The maid came and opened the door; I\ndesired her to go up again and ask her master to come down and\ngive his advice to a sick person whom we had brought along with\nus; and withal, to encourage him, I charged her to give him a\npiece of money, which I put into her hand. When she was gone, I\ncarried the hunch-back up stairs, and laid him upon the uppermost\nstep, and then my wife and I made the best of our way home. The\ndoctor coming, threw the corpse down stairs, and concluded\nhimself to be the author of his death. This being the case,\"\ncontinued he, \"release the doctor, and let me die in his stead.\"\n\nThe chief justice, and all the spectators, wondered at the\nstrange events which had ensued upon the death of the little\nhunch-back. \"Let the Jewish doctor go,\" said the judge, \"and\nseize the tailor, since he confesses the crime. It is certain\nthis history is very uncommon, and deserves to be recorded in\nletters of gold.\" The executioner having dismissed the doctor\nprepared to impale the tailor.\n\nWhile the executioner was making ready to impale the tailor, the\nsultan of Casgar, wanting the company of his crooked jester, asked\nwhere he was; and one of his officers told him; \"The hunch-back, Sir,\nwhom you inquire after, got drunk last night, and contrary to his\ncustom slipped out of the palace, and went strolling about the city,\nand this morning was found dead. A man was brought before the chief\njustice, and charged with the murder of him; but when he was going to\nbe impaled, up came a man, and after him another, who took the charge\nupon themselves and cleared one another, and the judge is now\nexamining a third, who gives himself out for the real author of the\nmurder.\"\n\nUpon this intelligence the sultan of Casgar sent an officer to\nthe place of execution. \"Go,\" said he, \"with all expedition, and\ntell the judge to bring the accused persons before me immediately\nand bring also the corpse of poor hunch-back, that I may see him\nonce more.\" Accordingly the officer went, and happened to arrive\nat the place of execution at the very time that the executioner\nhad laid his hands upon the tailor. He called aloud to him to\nsuspend the execution. The executioner knowing the officer, did\nnot dare to proceed, but released the tailor; and then the\nofficer acquainted the judge with the sultan's pleasure. The\njudge obeyed, and went directly to the palace accompanied by the\ntailor, the Jewish doctor, and the Christian merchant; and made\nfour of his men carry the hunch-backed corpse along with him.\n\nWhen they appeared in the sultan's presence, the judge threw\nhimself at the prince's feet and after recovering himself, gave\nhim a faithful relation of what he knew of the story of the\nhunch-backed man. The story appeared so extraordinary to the\nsultan, that he ordered his own historian to write it down with\nall its circumstances. Then addressing himself to the audience;\n\"Did you ever hear,\" said he, \"such a surprising event as has\nhappened on the account of my little crooked buffoon?\" The\nChristian merchant, after falling down, and touching the earth\nwith his forehead, spoke as follows: \"Most puissant monarch, I\nknow a story yet more astonishing than this; if your majesty will\ngive me leave, I will relate it. The circumstances are such, that\nno one can hear them without emotion.\" \"Well,\" said the sultan,\n\"you have my permission:\" and the merchant went on as follows:\n\n\n\n\n            The Story told by the Christian Merchant.\n\n\n\nSir, before I commence the recital of the story you have\npermitted me to relate, I beg leave to acquaint you, that I have\nnot the honour to be born in any part of your majesty's empire. I\nam a stranger, born at Cairo in Egypt, a Copt by nation, and by\nreligion a Christian. My father was a broker, and realized\nconsiderable property, which he left me at his death. I followed\nhis example, and pursued the same employment. While I was\nstanding in the public inn frequented by the corn merchants,\nthere came up to me a handsome young man, well dressed, and\nmounted on an ass. He saluted me, and pulling out a handkerchief,\nin which he had a sample of sesame or Turkey corn, asked me how\nmuch a bushel of such sesame would fetch.\n\nI examined the corn the young man shewed me, and told him it was\nworth a hundred dirhems of silver per bushel. \"Pray,\" said he,\n\"look out for some merchant to take it at that price, and come to\nme at the Victory gate, where you will see a khan at a distance\nfrom the houses.\" So saying, he left me the sample, and I shewed\nit to several merchants, who told me, that they would take as\nmuch as I could spare at a hundred and ten dirhems per bushel, so\nthat I reckoned on getting ten dirhems per bushel for my\ncommission. Full of the expectation of this profit, I went to the\nVictory gate, where I found the young merchant expecting me, and\nhe took me into his granary, which was full of sesame. He had\nthen a hundred and fifty bushels, which I measured out, and\nhaving carried them off upon asses, sold them for five thousand\ndirhems of silver. \"Out of this sum,\" said the young man, \"there\nare five hundred dirhems coming to you, at the rate of ten\ndirhems per bushel. This I give you; and as for the rest which\npertains to me, take it out of the merchants' hands, and keep it\ntill I call or send for it, for I have no occasion for it at\npresent.\" I answered, it should be ready for him whenever he\npleased to demand it; and so, kissing his hand, took leave of\nhim, with a grateful sense of his generosity.\n\nA month passed before he came near me: then he asked for the sum\nhe had committed to my trust. I told him it was ready, and should\nbe counted to him immediately. He was mounted on his ass, and I\ndesired him to alight, and do me the honour to eat a mouthful\nwith me before he received his money. \"No,\" said he, \"I cannot\nalight at present, I have urgent business that obliges me to be\nat a place just by; but I will return this way, and then take the\nmoney which I desired you would have in readiness.\" This said, he\ndisappeared, and I still expected his return, but it was a full\nmonth before I saw him again. \"This young merchant,\" thought I,\n\"has great confidence in me, leaving so great a sum in my hands\nwithout knowing me; any other man would have been afraid I should\nhave run away with it.\" To be short, he came again at the end of\nthe third month, and was still mounted on his ass, but more\nhandsomely dressed than before.\n\nAs soon as I saw the young man, I intreated him to alight, and\nasked him if he would not take his money? \"There is no hurry,\"\nsaid he, with a pleasant easy air, \"I know it is in good hands; I\nwill come and take it when my other money is all gone. Adieu,\"\ncontinued he, \"I will return towards the end of the week.\" With\nthat he struck the ass, and soon disappeared. \"Well,\" thought I,\n\"he says he will see me towards the end of the week, but he may\nnot perhaps return for a great while; I will make the most I can\nof his money, which may bring me much profit.\"\n\nAs it happened, I was not deceived in my conjecture; for it was a\nfull year before I saw my young merchant again. He then appeared\nas richly appareled as before, but seemed to have something on\nhis spirits. I asked him to do me the honour to walk into my\nhouse. \"For this time,\" replied he, \"I will: but on this\ncondition, that you shall put yourself to no extraordinary charge\non my account.\" \"I will do just as you please,\" said I, \"only do\nme the favour to alight and walk in.\" Accordingly he complied. I\ngave orders to have a repast prepared, and while this was doing,\nwe entered into conversation. All things being ready, we sat\ndown. I observed he took the first mouthful with his left hand,\nand not with the right. I was at a loss what to think of this.\n\"Ever since I have known this young man,\" said I inwardly, \"he\nhas always appeared very polite; is it possible he can do this\nout of contempt? What can be the reason he does not use his right\nhand?\"\n\nAfter we had done eating, and every thing was taken away, we sat\nupon a sofa, and I presented him with a lozenge by way of dainty;\nbut still he took it with his left hand. I said to him, \"Pardon,\nSir, the liberty I take in asking you what reason you have for\nnot using your right hand? Perhaps you have some complaint in\nthat hand.\" Instead of answering, he heaved a deep sigh, and\npulling out his right arm, which he had hitherto kept under his\nvest, shewed me, to my great astonishment, that it had been cut\noff. \"Doubtless you were displeased,\" said he, \"to see me feed\nmyself with the left hand; but I leave you to judge, whether it\nwas in my power to do otherwise.\" \"May one ask,\" said I, \"by what\nmischance you lost your right hand?\" Upon that he burst into\ntears, and after wiping his eyes, gave me the following relation.\n\nYou must know that I am a native of Bagdad, the son of a rich\nmerchant, the most eminent in that city for rank and opulence. I\nhad scarcely launched into the world, when falling into the\ncompany of travellers, and hearing their wonderful accounts of\nEgypt, especially of Grand Cairo, I was interested by their\ndiscourse, and felt a strong desire to travel. But my father was\nthen alive, and would not grant me permission. At length he died;\nand being then my own master, I resolved to take a journey to\nCairo. I laid out a large sum of money in the purchase of several\nsorts of fine stuffs of Bagdad and Moussol and departed.\n\nArriving at Cairo, I went to the khan, called the khan of\nMesrour, and there took lodgings, with a warehouse for my bales,\nwhich I had brought with me upon camels. This done, I retired to\nmy chamber to rest, after the fatigue of my journey, and gave\nsome money to my servants, with orders to buy some provisions and\ndress them. After I had eaten, I went to view the castle, some\nmosques, the public squares, and the other most remarkable\nplaces.\n\nNext day I dressed myself, and ordered some of the finest and\nrichest of my bales to be selected and carried by my slaves to\nthe Circassian bazaar, whither I followed. I had no sooner made\nmy appearance, than I was surrounded with brokers and criers who\nhad heard of my arrival. I gave patterns of my stuffs to several\nof the criers, who shewed them all over the bazaar; but none of\nthe merchants offered near so much as prime cost and carriage.\nThis vexed me, and the criers observing I was dissatisfied, said,\n\"If you will take our advice, we will put you in a way to sell\nyour goods without loss.\"\n\nThe brokers and the criers, having thus promised to put me in a\nway of losing nothing by my goods, I asked them what course they\nwould have me pursue. \"Divide your goods,\" said they, \"among\nseveral merchants, they will sell them by retail; and twice a\nweek, that is on Mondays and Thursdays, you may receive what\nmoney they may have taken. By this means, instead of losing, you\nwill turn your goods to advantage, and the merchants will gain by\nyou. In the mean while you will have time to take your pleasure\nabout the town or go upon the Nile.\"\n\nI took their advice, and conducted them to my warehouse; from\nwhence I brought all my goods to the bazaar, and there divided\nthem among the merchants whom they represented as most reputable\nand able to pay; and the merchants gave me a formal receipt\nbefore witnesses, stipulating that I should not making any\ndemands upon them for the first month.\n\nHaving thus regulated my affairs, my mind was occupied with\nordinary pleasures. I contracted acquaintance with divers persons\nof nearly the same age with myself, which made the time pass\nagreeably. After the first month had expired, I began to visit my\nmerchants twice a week, taking with me a public officer to\ninspect their books of sale, and a banker to see that they paid\nme in good money, and to regulate the value of the several coins.\nEvery pay-day, I had a good sum of money to carry home to my\nlodging at the khan of Mesrour. I went on other days to pass the\nmorning sometimes at one merchant's house, and sometimes at that\nof another. In short, I amused myself in conversing with them,\nand seeing what passed in the bazaar.\n\nOne Monday, as I was sitting in a merchant's shop, whose name\nwas Buddir ad Deen, a lady of quality, as might easily be\nperceived by her air, her apparel, and by a well-dressed slave\nattending her, came into the shop, and sat down by me. Her\nexternal appearance, joined to a natural grace that shone in all\nher actions, prepossessed me in her favour, and inspired me with\na desire to be better acquainted with her. I know not whether she\nobserved that I took pleasure in gazing on her, and whether this\nattention on my part was not agreeable to her; but she let down\nthe crepe that hung over the muslin which covered her face, and\ngave me the opportunity of seeing her large black eyes; which\nperfectly charmed me. In fine, she inflamed my love to the height\nby the agreeable sound of her voice, her graceful carriage in\nsaluting the merchant, and asking him how he did since she had\nseen him last.\n\nAfter conversing with him some time upon indifferent subjects, she\ngave him to understand that she wanted a particular kind of stuff with\na gold ground; that she came to his shop, as affording the best choice\nof any in all the bazaar; and that if he had any such as she asked\nfor, he would oblige her in showing them. Buddir ad Deen produced\nseveral pieces, one of which she pitched upon, and he asked for it\neleven hundred dirhems of silver. \"I will,\" said she, \"give you your\nprice for it, but I have not money enough about me; so I hope you will\ngive me credit till to-morrow, and in the mean time allow me to carry\nhome the stuff. I shall not fail,\" added she, \"to send you tomorrow\nthe eleven hundred dirhems.\" \"Madam,\" said Buddir ad Deen, \"I would\ngive you credit with all my heart if the stuff were mine; but it\nbelongs to the young man you see here, and this is the day on which we\nsettle our accounts.\" \"Why,\" said the lady in surprise, \"do you use me\nso? Am not I a customer to your shop And when I have bought of you,\nand carried home the things without paying ready money for them, did I\nin any instance fail to send you your money next morning?\" \"Madam,\"\nsaid the merchant, \"all this is true, but this very day I have\noccasion for the money.\" \"There,\" said she, throwing the stuff to him,\n\"take your stuff, I care not for you nor any of the merchants. You are\nall alike; you respect no one.\" As she spoke, she rose up in anger,\nand walked out.\n\nWhen I saw that the lady walked away, I felt interested on her\nbehalf, and called her back, saying, \"Madam, do me the favour to\nreturn, perhaps I can find a way to satisfy you both.\" She\nreturned, saying, it was on my account that she complied. \"Buddir\nad Deen,\" said I to the merchant, \"what is the price you must\nhave for this stuff that belongs to me?\" \"I must have,\" replied\nhe, \"eleven hundred dirhems, I cannot take less.\" \"Give it to the\nlady then,\" said I, \"let her take it home with her; I allow a\nhundred dirhems profit to yourself, and shall now write you a\nnote, empowering you to deduct that sum upon the produce of the\nother goods you have of mine.\" In fine, I wrote, signed, and gave\nhim the note, and then delivered the stuff to the lady. \"Madam,\"\nsaid I, \"you may take the stuff with you, and as for the money,\nyou may either send it to-morrow or the next day; or, if you\nwill, accept it as a present from me.\" \"Pardon me,\" returned she,\n\"I mean no such thing. You treat me with so much politeness, that\nI should be unworthy to appear in the world again, were I to omit\nmaking you my best acknowledgments. May God reward you, by an\nincrease of your fortune; may you live many years after I am\ndead; may the gate of paradise be open to you when you remove to\nthe other world, and may all the city proclaim your generosity.\"\n\nThese words inspired me with some assurance. \"Madam,\" I replied,\n\"I desire no other reward for the service I have done you than\nthe happiness of seeing your face; which will repay me with\ninterest.\" I had no sooner spoken than she turned towards me,\ntook off her veil, and discovered to me a wonderful beauty. I\nbecame speechless with admiration. I could have gazed upon her\nfor ever; but fearing any one should observe her, she quickly\ncovered her face, and letting down the crepe, took up the piece\nof stuff, and went away, leaving me in a very different state of\nmind from that in which I had entered the shop. I continued for\nsome time in great confusion and perplexity. Before I took leave\nof the merchant, I asked him, if he knew the lady; \"Yes,\" said\nhe, \"she is the daughter of an emir.\"\n\nI went back to the khan of Mesrour, and sat down to supper, but\ncould not eat, neither could I shut my eyes all the night, which\nseemed the longest in my life. As soon as it was day I arose, in\nhopes of once more beholding the object that disturbed my repose:\nand to engage her affection, I dressed myself much richer than I\nhad done the day before.\n\nI had but just reached Buddir ad Deen's shop, when I saw the lady\ncoming in more magnificent apparel than before, and attended by\nher slave. When she entered, she did not regard the merchant, but\naddressing herself to me, said, \"Sir, you see I am punctual to my\nword. I am come for the express purpose of paying the sum you\nwere so kind as to pass your word for yesterday, though you had\nno knowledge of me. Such uncommon generosity I shall never\nforget.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said I, \"you had no occasion to be in such haste; I was\nwell satisfied as to my money, and am sorry you should put\nyourself to so much trouble.\" \"I had been very unjust,\" answered\nshe, \"if I had abused your generosity.\" With these words she put\nthe money into my hand, and sat down by me.\n\nHaving this opportunity of conversing with her, I determined to\nimprove it, and mentioned to her the love I had for her; but she\nrose and left me very abruptly, as if she had been angry with the\ndeclaration I had made. I followed her with my eyes as long as\nshe continued in sight; then taking leave of the merchant walked\nout of the bazaar, without knowing where I went. I was musing on\nthis adventure, when I felt somebody pulling me behind, and\nturning to see who it was, I was agreeably surprised to perceive\nit was the lady's slave. \"My mistress,\" said she, \"I mean the\nyoung lady you spoke to in the merchant's shop, wants to speak\nwith you, if you please to give yourself the trouble to follow\nme.\" Accordingly I followed her, and found her mistress sitting\nwaiting for me in a banker's shop.\n\nShe made me sit down by her, and spoke to this purpose. \"Do not\nbe surprised, that I left you so abruptly. I thought it not\nproper, before that merchant, to give a favourable answer to the\ndiscovery you made of your affection for me. But to speak the\ntruth, I was so far from being offended at it, that it gave me\npleasure; and I account myself infinitely happy in having a man\nof your merit for my lover. I do not know what impression the\nfirst sight of me may have made on you, but I assure you, I had\nno sooner beheld you than I found my heart moved with the\ntenderest emotions of love. Since yesterday I have done nothing\nbut think of what you said to me; and my eagerness to seek you\nthis morning may convince you of my regard.\" \"Madam,\" I replied,\ntransported with love and joy, \"nothing can be more agreeable to\nme than this declaration. No passion can exceed that with which I\nlove you. My eyes were dazzled with so many charms, that my heart\nyielded without resistance.\" \"Let us not trifle away the time in\nneedless discourse,\" said she, interrupting me; \"make no doubt of\nyour sincerity, and you shall quickly be convinced of mine. Will\nyou do me the honour to come to my residence? Or if you will I\nwill go to yours.\" \"Madam,\" I returned, \"I am a stranger lodged\nin a khan, which is not the proper place for the reception of a\nlady of your quality. It is more proper, madam, that I should\nvisit you at your house; have the goodness to tell me where it\nis.\" The lady consented; \"Come,\" said she, \"on Friday, which is\nthe day after to-morrow, after noon-prayers, and ask for the\nhouse of Abou Schama, surnamed Bercour, late master of the emirs;\nthere you will find me.\" This said, we parted; and I passed the\nnext day in great impatience.\n\nOn Friday I put on my richest apparel, and took fifty pieces of\ngold in my purse. I mounted an ass I had bespoken the day before,\nand set out, accompanied by the man who let me the ass. I\ndirected the owner of the ass to inquire for the house I wanted;\nhe found it, and conducted me thither. I paid him liberally,\ndirecting him to observe narrowly where he left me, and not to\nfail to return next morning with the ass, to carry me again to\nthe khan of Mesrour.\n\nI knocked at the door, and presently two little female slaves,\nwhite as snow, and neatly dressed came and opened it. \"Be pleased\nto come in, Sir,\" said they, \"our mistress expects you\nimpatiently; these two days she has talked of nothing but you.\" I\nentered the court, and saw a pavilion raised seven steps, and\nsurrounded with iron rails that parted it from a very pleasant\ngarden. Besides the trees which only embellished the place, and\nformed an agreeable shade, there was an infinite number of others\nloaded with all sorts of fruit. I was charmed with the warbling\nof a great number of birds, that joined their notes to the\nmurmurings of a fountain, in the middle of a parterre enamelled\nwith flowers. This fountain formed a very agreeable object; four\nlarge gilded dragons at the angles of the basin, which was of a\nsquare form, spouted out water clearer than rock-crystal. This\ndelicious place gave me a charming idea of the conquest I had\nmade. The two little slaves conducted me into a saloon\nmagnificently furnished; and while one of them went to acquaint\nher mistress with my arrival, the other tarried with me, and\npointed out to me the beauties of the hall.\n\nI did not wait long in the hall, ere the lady I loved appeared,\nadorned with pearls and diamonds; but the splendour of her eyes\nfar outshone that of her jewels. Her shape, which was now not\ndisguised by the habit she wore in the city, appeared the most\nslender and delicate. I need not mention with what joy we met\nonce more; it far exceeded all expression. When the first\ncompliments were over, we sat down upon a sofa, and there\nconversed together with the highest satisfaction. We had the most\ndelicious refreshments served up to us; and after eating,\ncontinued our conversation till night. We then had excellent wine\nbrought up, and fruit adapted to promote drinking, and timed our\ncups to the sound of musical instruments, joined to the voices of\nthe slaves. The lady of the house sung herself, and by her songs\nraised my passion to the height. In short, I passed the night in\nfull enjoyment.\n\nNext morning I slipped under the bolster of the bed the purse\nwith the fifty pieces of gold I had brought with me, and took\nleave of the lady, who asked me when I would see her again.\n\"Madam,\" said I, \"I give you my promise to return this night.\"\nShe seemed to be transported with my answer, and conducting me to\nthe door, conjured me at parting to be mindful of my promise.\n\nThe same man who had carried me thither waited for me with his\nass, which I mounted, and went directly to the khan; ordering the\nman to come to me again in the afternoon at a certain hour, to\nsecure which, I deferred paying him till that time came.\n\nAs soon as I arrived at my lodging, my first care was to order my\npeople to buy a lamb, and several sorts of cakes, which I sent by\na porter as a present to the lady. When that was done I attended\nto my business till the owner of the ass arrived. I then went\nalong with him to the lady's house, and was received by her with\nas much joy as before, and entertained with equal magnificence.\n\nNext morning I took leave, left her another purse with fifty\npieces of gold, and returned to my khan.\n\nI continued to visit the lady every day, and to leave her every\ntime a purse with fifty pieces of gold, till the merchants whom I\nemployed to sell my goods, and whom I visited regularly twice a\nweek, had paid me the whole amount of my goods and, in short, I\ncame at last to be moneyless, and hopeless of having any more.\n\nIn this forlorn condition I walked out of my lodging, not knowing\nwhat course to take, and by chance went towards the castle, where\nthere was a great crowd to witness a spectacle given by the\nsultan of Egypt. As soon as I came up, I wedged in among the\ncrowd, and by chance happened to stand by a horseman well mounted\nand handsomely clothed, who had upon the pommel of his saddle a\nbag, half open, with a string of green silk hanging out of it. I\nclapped my hand to the bag, concluding the silk-twist might be\nthe string of a purse within: in the mean time a porter, with a\nload of wood upon his back, passed by on the other side of the\nhorse so near, that the rider was forced to turn his head towards\nhim, to avoid being hurt, or having his clothes torn by the wood.\nIn that moment the devil tempted me; I took the string in one\nhand, and with the other pulled out the purse so dexterously,\nthat nobody perceived me. The purse was heavy, and I did not\ndoubt but it contained gold or silver.\n\nAs soon as the porter had passed, the horseman, who probably had\nsome suspicion of what I had done while his head was turned,\npresently put his hand to his bag, and finding his purse was\ngone, gave me such a blow, that he knocked me down. This violence\nshocked all who saw it. Some took hold of the horse's bridle to\nstop the gentleman, and asked him what reason he had to strike\nme, or how he came to treat a Mussulmaun so rudely. \"Do not you\ntrouble yourselves,\" said he briskly, \"I had reason for what I\ndid; this fellow is a thief.\" At these words I started up, and\nfrom my appearance every one took my part, and cried out he was a\nliar, for that it was incredible a young man such as I was should\nbe guilty of so base an action: but while they were holding his\nhorse by the bridle to favour my escape, unfortunately passed by\nthe judge, who seeing such a crowd about the gentleman on\nhorseback, came up and asked what the matter was. Every body\npresent reflected on the gentleman for treating me so unjustly\nupon the presence of robbery.\n\nThe judge did not give ear to all that was said; but asked the\ncavalier if he suspected any body else beside me? The cavalier\ntold him he did not, and gave his reasons why he believed his\nsuspicions not to be groundless. Upon this the judge ordered his\nfollowers to seize me, which they presently did; and finding the\npurse upon me, exposed it to the view of all the people. The\ndisgrace was so great, I could not bear it, and I swooned away.\nIn the mean time the judge called for the purse.\n\nWhen the judge had got the purse in his hand, he asked the\nhorseman if it was his, and how much money it contained. The\ncavalier knew it to be his own, and assured the judge he had put\ntwenty sequins into it. Upon which the judge called me before\nhim; \"Come, young man,\" said he, \"confess the truth. Was it you\nthat took the gentleman's purse from him? Do not wait for the\ntorture to extort confession.\" Then with downcast eyes, thinking\nthat if I denied the fact, they, having found the purse upon me,\nwould convict me of a lie, to avoid a double punishment I looked\nup and confessed my guilt. I had no sooner made the confession,\nthan the judge called people to witness it, and ordered my hand\nto be cutoff. This sentence was immediately put in execution, to\nthe great regret of all the spectators; nay, I observed, by the\ncavalier's countenance, that he was moved with pity as much as\nthe rest. The judge would likewise have ordered my foot to be cut\noff, but I begged the cavalier to intercede for my pardon; which\nhe did, and obtained it.\n\nWhen the judge was gone, the cavalier came up to me, and holding\nout the purse, said, \"I see plainly that necessity drove you to\nan action so disgraceful and unworthy of such a young man as you\nappear. Here, take that fatal purse; I freely give it you, and am\nheartily sorry for the misfortune you have undergone.\" Having\nthus spoken, he went away. Being very weak by loss of blood, some\nof the good people of the neighbourhood had the kindness to carry\nme into a house and give me a glass of cordial; they likewise\ndressed my arm, and wrapped up the dismembered hand in a cloth,\nwhich I carried away with me fastened to my girdle.\n\nHad I returned to the khan of Mesrour in this melancholy condition, I\nshould not have found there such relief as I wanted; and to offer to\ngo to the young lady was running a great hazard, it being likely she\nwould not look upon me after being informed of my disgrace. I\nresolved, however, to put her to the trial; and to tire out the crowd\nthat followed me, I turned down several by-streets, and at last\narrived at the lady's house very weak, and so much fatigued, that I\npresently threw myself down upon a sofa, keeping my right arm under my\ngarment, for I took great care to conceal my misfortune.\n\nIn the mean time the lady, hearing of my arrival, and that I was\nnot well, came to me in haste; and seeing me pale and dejected,\nsaid, \"My dear love, what is the matter with you?\" \"Madam,\" I\nreplied, dissembling, \"I have a violent pain in my head.\" The\nlady seemed to be much concerned, and asked me to sit down, for I\nhad arisen to receive her. \"Tell me,\" said she, \"how your illness\nwas occasioned. The last time I had the pleasure to see you, you\nwere very well. There must be something that you conceal from me,\nlet me know what it is.\" I stood silent, and instead of an\nanswer, tears trickled down my cheeks. \"I cannot conceive,\"\nresumed she, \"what it is that afflicts you. Have I unthinkingly\ngiven you any occasion of uneasiness? Or do you come on purpose\nto tell me you no longer love me?\" \"It is not that, madam,\" said\nI, heaving a deep sigh; \"your unjust suspicion adds to my\nmisfortune.\"\n\nI could not think of discovering to her the true cause. When\nnight came, supper was brought, and she pressed me to eat; but\nconsidering I could only feed myself with my left hand, I begged\nto be excused upon the plea of having no appetite. \"It will\nreturn,\" said she, \"if you would but discover what you so\nobstinately conceal from me. Your want of appetite, without\ndoubt, is only owing to your irresolution.\"\n\n\"Alas! madam,\" returned I, \"I find I must resolve at last.\" I had\nno sooner spoken, than she filled me a cup full of wine, and\noffering it to me, \"Drink that,\" said she, \"it will give you\ncourage.\" I reached out my left hand, and took the cup.\n\nWhen I had taken the cup in my hand, I redoubled my tears and\nsighs. \"Why do you sigh and weep so bitterly?\" asked the lady;\n\"and why do you take the cup with your left hand, rather than\nyour right?\" \"Ah! madam,\" I replied, \"I beseech you excuse me; I\nhave a swelling in my right hand.\" \"Let me see that swelling,\"\nsaid she; \"I will open it.\" I desired to be excused, alleging it\nwas not ripe enough for such an operation; and drank off the cup,\nwhich was very large. The fumes of the wine, joined to my\nweakness and weariness, set me asleep, and I slept very soundly\ntill morning.\n\nIn the mean time the lady, curious to know what ailed my right\nhand, lifted up my garment that covered it; and saw to her great\nastonishment that it was cut off, and that I had brought it along\nwith me wrapped up in a cloth. She presently apprehended what was\nmy reason for declining a discovery, notwithstanding all her\npressing solicitation; and passed the night in the greatest\nuneasiness on account of my disgrace, which she concluded had\nbeen occasioned only by the love I bore to her.\n\nWhen I awoke, I discerned by her countenance that she was\nextremely grieved. However, that she might not increase my\nuneasiness she said not a word. She called for jelly-broth of\nfowl, which she had ordered to be prepared, and made me eat and\ndrink to recruit my strength. After that, I offered to take leave\nof her; but she declared I should not go out of her doors.\n\"Though you tell me nothing of the matter,\" said she, \"I am\npersuaded I am the cause of the misfortune that has befallen you.\nThe grief that I feel on that account will soon end my days, but\nbefore I die, I must execute a design for your benefit.\" She had\nno sooner spoken, than she called for a judge and witnesses, and\nordered a writing to be drawn up, putting me in possession of her\nwhole property. After this was done, and every body dismissed,\nshe opened a large trunk where lay all the purses I had given her\nfrom the commencement of our amour. \"There they are all entire,\"\nsaid she; \"I have not touched one of them. Here is the key; take\nit, for all is yours.\" After I had returned her thanks for her\ngenerosity and goodness; \"What I have done for you,\" said she,\n\"is nothing; I shall not be satisfied unless I die, to show how\nmuch I love you.\" I conjured her, by all the powers of love, to\nrelinquish such a fatal resolution. But all my remonstrances were\nineffectual: she was so afflicted to see me have but one hand,\nthat she sickened, and died after five or six weeks' illness.\n\nAfter mourning for her death as long as was decent, I took\npossession of all her property, a particular account of which she\ngave me before she died; and the corn you sold for me was part of\nit.\n\n\"What I have now told you,\" said he, \"will plead my excuse for\neating with my left hand. I am highly obliged to you for the\ntrouble you have given yourself on my account. I can never\nsufficiently recompense your fidelity. Since I have still, thanks\nto God, a competent estate, notwithstanding I have spent a great\ndeal, I beg you to accept of the sum now in your hand, as a\npresent from me. I have besides a proposal to make to you. As I\nam obliged, on account of this fatal accident, to quit Cairo, I\nam resolved never to return to it again. If you choose to\naccompany me, we will trade together as equal partners, and share\nthe profits.\"\n\nI thanked the young man for the present he had made me, and I\nwillingly embraced the proposal of travelling with him, assuring\nhim, that his interest should always be as dear to me as my own.\n\nWe fixed a day for our departure, and accordingly entered upon\nour travels. We passed through Syria and Mesopotamia, travelled\nover Persia, and after stopping at several cities, came at last,\nsir, to your capital. Some time after our arrival here, the young\nman having formed a design of returning to Persia, and settling\nthere, we balanced our accounts, and parted very good friends. He\nwent from hence, and I, sir, continue here in your majesty's\nservice. This is the story I had to relate. Does not your majesty\nfind it more surprising than that of the hunch-back buffoon?\n\nThe sultan of Casgar fell into a passion against the Christian\nmerchant. \"Thou art a presumptuous fellow,\" said he, \"to tell me\na story so little worth hearing, and then to compare it to that\nof my jester. Canst thou flatter thyself so far as to believe\nthat the trifling adventures of a young debauchee are more\ninteresting than those of my jester? I will have you all four\nimpaled, to revenge his death.\"\n\nHearing this, the purveyor prostrated himself at the sultan's\nfeet. \"Sir,\" said he, \"I humbly beseech your majesty to suspend\nyour wrath, and hear my story; and if it appears to be more\nextraordinary than that of your jester, to pardon us.\" The sultan\nhaving granted his request, the purveyor began thus.\n\n\n\n\n         The Story told by the Sultan of Casgar's Purveyor.\n\n\n\nSir, a person of quality invited me yesterday to his daughter's\nwedding. I went to his house in the evening at the hour\nappointed, and found there a large company of men of the law,\nministers of justice, and others of the first rank in the city.\nAfter the ceremony was over, we partook of a splendid feast.\nAmong other dishes set upon the table, there was one seasoned\nwith garlic, which was very delicious, and generally relished. We\nobserved, however, that one of the guests did not touch it,\nthough it stood just before him. We invited him to taste it, but\nhe intreated us not to press him. \"I will take good care,\" said\nhe, \"how I touch any dish that is seasoned with garlic; I have\nnot yet forgotten what the tasting of such a dish once cost me.\"\nWe requested him to inform us what the reason was of his aversion\nto garlic. But before he had time to answer, the master of the\nhouse exclaimed, \"Is it thus you honour my table? This dish is\nexcellent, do not expect to be excused from eating of it; you\nmust do me that favour as well as the rest.\" \"Sir,\" said the\ngentleman, who was a Bagdad merchant, \"I hope you do not think my\nrefusal proceeds from any mistaken delicacy; if you insist on my\ncompliance I will submit, but it must be on this condition, that\nafter having eaten, I may, with your permission, wash my hands\nwith alkali forty times, forty times more with ashes, and forty\ntimes again with soap. I hope you will not feel displeased at\nthis stipulation, as I have made an oath never to taste garlic\nbut on these terms.\"\n\nAs the master of the house, continued the purveyor of the sultan\nof Casgar, would not dispense with the merchant's partaking of\nthe dish seasoned with garlic, he ordered his servants to provide\na basin of water, together with some alkali, the ashes, and soap,\nthat the merchant might wash as often as he pleased. After he had\ngiven these instructions, he addressed the merchant and said, \"I\nhope you will now do as we do.\"\n\nThe merchant, apparently displeased with the constraint put upon\nhim, took up a bit, which he put to his mouth trembling, and ate\nwith a reluctance that astonished us. But what surprised us yet\nmore was, that he had no thumb; which none of us had observed\nbefore, though he had eaten of other dishes. \"You have lost your\nthumb,\" said the master of the house. \"This must have been\noccasioned by some extraordinary accident, a relation of which\nwill be agreeable to the company.\" \"Sir,\" replied the merchant,\n\"I have no thumb on either the right or the left hand.\" As he\nspoke he put out his left hand, and shewed us that what he said\nwas true. \"But this is not all,\" continued he: \"I have no great\ntoe on either of my feet: I was maimed in this manner by an\nunheard-of adventure, which I am willing to relate, if you will\nhave the patience to hear me. The account will excite at once\nyour astonishment and your pity. Only allow me first to wash my\nhands.\" With this he rose from the table, and after washing his\nhands a hundred and twenty times, reseated himself, and proceeded\nwith his narrative as follows.\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, my father lived at\nBagdad, the place of my nativity, and was reputed one of the\nrichest merchants in the city. But being a man addicted to his\npleasures, and neglecting his private affairs, instead of leaving\nme an ample fortune, he died in such embarrassed circumstances,\nthat I was reduced to the necessity of using all the economy\npossible to discharge the debts he had contracted. I at last,\nhowever, paid them all; and by care and good management my little\nfortune began to wear a smiling aspect.\n\nOne morning, as I opened my shop, a lady mounted upon a mule, and\nattended by an eunuch and two slaves, stopped near my door, and\nwith the assistance of the eunuch alighted. \"Madam,\" said the\neunuch, \"I told you you would be too early; you see there is no\none yet in the bazaar: had you taken my advice, you might have\nsaved yourself the trouble of waiting here.\" The lady looked and\nperceiving no shop open but mine, asked permission to sit in it\ntill the other merchants arrived. With this request I of course\nreadily complied.\n\nThe lady took a seat in my shop, and observing there was no one\nin the bazaar but the eunuch and myself, uncovered her face to\ntake the air. I had never beheld any thing so beautiful. I became\ninstantly enamoured, and kept my eyes fixed upon her. I flattered\nmyself that my attention was not unpleasant to her; for she\nallowed me time to view her deliberately, and only concealed her\nface so far as she thought necessary to avoid being observed.\n\nAfter she had again lowered her veil, she told me she wanted\nseveral sorts of the richest and finest stuffs, and asked me if I\nhad them. \"Alas! madam,\" I replied, \"I am but a young man just\nbeginning the world; I have not capital sufficient for such\nextensive traffic. I am much mortified not to be able to\naccommodate you with the articles you want. But to save you the\ntrouble of going from shop to shop, when the merchants arrive, I\nwill, if you please, go and get those articles from them, and\nascertain the lowest prices.\" She assented to this proposal, and\nentered into conversation with me, which I prolonged, making her\nbelieve the merchants that could furnish what she wanted were not\nyet come.\n\nI was not less charmed with her wit than I had been before with\nthe beauty of her face; but was obliged to forego the pleasure of\nher conversation. I ran for the stuffs she wanted, and after she\nhad fixed upon what she liked, we agreed for five thousand\ndirhems of coined silver; I wrapped up the stuffs in a small\nbundle, and gave it to the eunuch, who put it under his arm. She\nthen rose and took leave. I followed her with my eyes till she\nhad reached the bazaar gate, and even after she had remounted her\nmule.\n\nThe lady had no sooner disappeared, than I perceived that love\nhad led me to a serious oversight. It had so engrossed my\nthoughts, that I did not reflect that she went away without\npaying, and that I had not informed myself who she was, or where\nshe resided. I soon felt sensible, however, that I was\naccountable for a large sum to the merchants, who, perhaps, would\nnot have patience to wait for their money: I went to them, and\nmade the best excuse I could, pretending that I knew the lady;\nand then returned home, equally affected with love, and with the\nburden of such a heavy debt.\n\nI had desired my creditors to wait eight days for their money:\nwhen this period had elapsed, they did not fail to dun me. I then\nintreated them to give me eight days more, to which they\nconsented; but the next day I saw the lady enter the bazaar,\nmounted on her mule, with the same attendants as before, and\nexactly the same hour of the day.\n\nShe came straight to my shop. \"I have made you wait some time,\"\nsaid she, \"but here is your money at last; carry it to the\nbanker, and see that it is all good and right.\" The eunuch who\ncarried the money went along with me to the banker, and we found\nit quite right. I returned, and had the happiness of conversing\nwith the lady till all the shops of the bazaar were open. Though\nwe talked but of ordinary things, she gave them such a turn, that\nthey appeared new and uncommon; and convinced me that I was not\nmistaken in admiring her wit at our first interview.\n\nAs soon as the merchants had arrived and opened their shops, I\ncarried to the respective owners the money due for their stuffs,\nand was readily intrusted with more, which the lady had desired\nto see. She chose some from these to the value of one thousand\npieces of gold, and carried them away as before without paying;\nnay, without speaking a word, or informing me who she was. What\ndistressed me was the consideration that while at this rate she\nrisked nothing, she left me without any security against being\nmade answerable for the goods in case she did not return. \"She\nhas paid me,\" thought I, \"a considerable sum; but she leaves me\nresponsible for a greater, Surely she cannot be a cheat. The\nmerchants do not know her, they will all come upon me.\" In short,\nmy love was not so powerful as to stifle the uneasiness I felt,\nwhen I reflected upon the circumstances in which I was placed. A\nwhole month passed before I heard any thing of the lady again;\nand during that time my alarm increased. The merchants were\nimpatient for their money, and to satisfy them, I was going to\nsell off all I had, when one morning the lady returned with the\nsame equipage as before.\n\n\"Take your weights,\" said she, \"and weigh the gold I have brought\nyou.\" These words dispelled my fear, and inflamed my love. Before\nwe counted the money, she asked me several questions, and\nparticularly if I was married. I answered I never had been. Then\nreaching out the gold to the eunuch, \"Let us have your\ninterposition,\" said she, \"to accommodate our matters.\" Upon\nwhich the eunuch fell a laughing, and calling me aside, made me\nweigh the gold. While I was thus occupied, the eunuch whispered\nin my ear, \"I know by your eyes you love this lady, and I am\nsurprised that you have not the courage to disclose your passion.\nShe loves you more ardently than you do her. Do not imagine that\nshe has any real occasion for your stuffs. She only makes this\nher presence to come here, because you have inspired her with a\nviolent passion. It was for this reason she asked you if you were\nmarried. It will be your own fault, if you do not marry her.\" \"It\nis true,\" I replied, \"I have loved her since I first beheld her;\nbut I durst not aspire to the happiness of thinking my attachment\ncould meet her approbation. I am entirely hers, and shall not\nfail to retain a grateful sense of your good offices in this\naffair.\"\n\nI finished weighing the gold, and while I was putting it into the\nbag, the eunuch turned to the lady, and told her I was satisfied;\nthat being the word they had agreed upon between themselves.\nPresently after, the lady rose and took her leave; telling me she\nwould send her eunuch to me, and that I had only to obey the\ndirections he might give me in her name.\n\nI carried each of the merchants their money, and waited some days\nwith impatience for the eunuch. At last he came.\n\nI received the eunuch very kindly, and inquired after his\nmistress's health. \"You are,\" said he, \"the happiest lover in the\nworld; she is impatient to see you; and were she mistress of her\nown conduct, would not fail to come to you herself, and willingly\npass in your society all the days of her life.\" \"Her noble mien\nand graceful carriage,\" I replied, \"convinced me, that she was a\nlady beyond the common rank.\" \"You have not erred in your\njudgment on that head,\" said the eunuch; \"she is the favourite of\nZobeide the caliph's wife, who is the more affectionately\nattached to her from having brought her up from her infancy, and\nintrusts her with all her affairs. Having a wish to marry, she\nhas declared to her mistress that she has fixed her affections\nupon you, and has desired her consent. Zobeide told her, she\nwould not withhold her consent; but that she would see you first,\nin order to judge if she had made a good choice; in which case\nshe meant herself to defray the expenses of the wedding. Thus you\nsee your felicity is certain; since you have pleased the\nfavourite, you will be equally agreeable to the mistress, who\nseeks only to oblige her, and would by no means thwart her\ninclination. All you have to do is to come to the palace. I am\nsent hither to invite you.\" \"My resolution is already formed,\"\nsaid I, \"and I am ready to follow you whithersoever you please.\"\n\"Very well,\" said the eunuch; \"but you know men are not allowed\nto enter the ladies' apartments in the palace, and you must be\nintroduced with great secrecy. The favourite lady has contrived\nthe matter well. On your side you must act your part discreetly;\nfor if you do not, your life is at stake.\"\n\nI gave him repeated assurances punctually to perform whatever he\nmight require. \"Then,\" said he, \"in the evening, you must be at\nthe mosque built by the caliph's lady on the bank of the Tigris,\nand wait there till somebody comes to conduct you.\" To this I\nagreed; and after passing the day in great impatience, went in\nthe evening to the prayer that is said an hour and a half after\nsun-set in the mosque, and remained there after all the people\nhad departed.\n\nSoon after I saw a boat making up to the mosque, the rowers of\nwhich were all eunuchs, who came on shore, put several large\ntrunks into the mosque, and then retired. One of them stayed\nbehind, whom I perceived to be the eunuch that had accompanied\nthe lady, and had been with me that morning. I saw the lady also\nenter the mosque; and approaching her, told her I was ready to\nobey her orders. \"We have no time to lose,\" said she; and opening\none of the trunks, desired me to get into it, that being\nnecessary both for her safety and mine. \"Fear nothing,\" added\nshe, \"leave the management of all to me.\" I considered with\nmyself that I had gone too far to recede, and obeyed her orders;\nwhen she immediately locked the trunk. This done, the eunuch her\nconfidant called the other eunuchs who had brought in the trunks,\nand ordered them to carry them on board again. The lady and the\neunuch re-embarked, and the boatmen rowed to Zobeide's apartment.\n\nIn the meantime I reflected very seriously upon the danger to\nwhich I had exposed myself, and made vows and prayers, though it\nwas then too late.\n\nThe boat stopped at the palace-gate, and the trunks were carried\ninto the apartment of the officer of the eunuchs, who keeps the\nkey of the ladies' apartments, and suffers nothing to enter\nwithout a narrow inspection. The officer was then in bed, and it\nwas necessary to call him up.\n\nThe officer of the eunuchs was displeased at having his rest\ndisturbed, and severely chid the favourite lady for coming home\nso late. \"You shall not come off so easily as you think,\" said\nhe: \"not one of these trunks shall pass till I have opened it.\"\nAt the same time he commanded the eunuchs to bring them before\nhim, and open them one by one. The first they took was that\nwherein I lay, which put me into inexpressible fear.\n\nThe favourite lady, who had the key, protested it should not be\nopened. \"You know very well,\" said she, \"I bring nothing hither\nbut what is for the use of Zobeide, your mistress and mine. This\ntrunk is filled with rich goods, which I purchased from some\nmerchants lately arrived, besides a number of bottles of Zemzem\nwater sent from Mecca; and if any of these should happen to\nbreak, the goods will be spoiled, and you must answer for them;\ndepend upon it, Zobeide will resent your insolence.\" She insisted\nupon this in such peremptory terms, that the officer did not dare\nto open any of the trunks. \"Let them go,\" said he angrily; \"you\nmay take them away.\" Upon this the door of the women's apartment\nwas opened, and all the trunks were carried in.\n\nThis had been scarcely accomplished, when I heard the people cry,\n\"Here is the caliph! Here comes the caliph!\" This put me in such\nalarm, that I wonder I did not die upon the spot; for as they\nannounced, it proved to be the caliph. \"What hast thou got in\nthese trunks?\" said he to the favourite. \"Some stuffs,\" she\nreplied, \"lately arrived, which the empress wishes to see.\" \"Open\nthem,\" cried he, \"and let me see them.\" She excused herself,\nalleging the stuffs were only proper for ladies, and that by\nopening them, his lady would be deprived of the pleasure of\nseeing them first. \"I say open them,\" resumed the caliph; \"I will\nsee them.\" She still represented that her mistress would be angry\nwith her, if she complied: \"No, no,\" said he, \"I will engage she\nshall not say a word to you. Come, come, open them, and do not\nkeep me waiting.\"\n\nIt was necessary to obey, which gave me such alarm, that I\ntremble every time I recollect my situation. The caliph sat down;\nand the favourite ordered all the trunks to be brought before him\none after another. She opened some of them; and to lengthen out\nthe time, displayed the beauties of each particular stuff,\nthinking in this manner to tire out his patience; but her\nstratagem did not succeed. Being as unwilling as myself to have\nthe trunk where I lay opened, she left that to the last. When all\nthe rest were viewed, \"Come,\" said the caliph, \"let us see what\nis in that.\" I am at a loss to tell you whether I was dead or\nalive that moment; for I little thought of escaping such imminent\ndanger.\n\nWhen Zobeide's favourite saw that the caliph persisted in having\nthis trunk opened: \"As for this,\" said she, \"your majesty will\nplease to dispense with the opening of it; there are some things\nin it which I cannot shew you without your lady be present.\"\n\"Well, well,\" said the caliph, \"since that is the case, I am\nsatisfied; order the trunks to be carried away.\" The words were\nno sooner spoken than they were moved into her chamber, where I\nbegan to revive again.\n\nAs soon as the eunuchs, who had brought them, were gone, she\nopened the trunk in which I was confined. \"Come out,\" said she;\n\"go up these stairs that lead to an upper room, and wait there\ntill I come to you.\" The door, which led to the stairs, she\nlocked after me; and that was no sooner done, than the caliph\ncame and sat down on the very trunk which had been my prison. The\noccasion of this visit did not respect me. He wished to question\nthe lady about what she had seen or heard in the city. So they\nconversed together some time; he then left her, and retired to\nhis apartment.\n\nWhen she found the coast clear, she came to the chamber where I\nlay concealed, and made many apologies for the alarms she had\ngiven me. \"My uneasiness,\" said she, \"was no less than yours; you\ncannot well doubt of that, since I have run the same risk out of\nlove to you. Perhaps another person in my situation would not,\nupon so delicate an occasion, have had the presence of mind to\nmanage so difficult a business with so much dexterity; nothing\nless than the love I had for you could have inspired me with\ncourage to do what I have. But come, take heart, the danger is\nnow over.\" After much tender conversation, she told me it was\ntime to go to rest, and that she would not fail to introduce me\nto Zobeide her mistress, some hour on the morrow, \"which will be\nvery easy,\" added she; \"for the caliph never sees her but at\nnight.\" Encouraged by these words, I slept very well, or if my\nsleep was interrupted, it was by agreeable disquietudes, caused\nby the hopes of possessing a lady blest with so much wit and\nbeauty.\n\nThe next day, before I was introduced to Zobeide, her favourite\ninstructed me how to conduct myself, mentioning what questions\nshe would probably put to me, and dictating the answers I was to\nreturn. She then carried me into a very magnificent and richly\nfurnished hall. I had no sooner entered, than twenty female\nslaves, advanced in age, dressed in rich and uniform habits, came\nout of Zobeide's apartment, and placed themselves before the\nthrone in two equal rows; they were followed by twenty other\nyounger ladies, clothed after the same fashion, only their habits\nappeared somewhat gayer. In the middle of these appeared Zobeide\nwith a majestic air, and so laden with jewels, that she could\nscarcely walk. She ascended the throne, and the favourite lady,\nwho had accompanied her, stood just by her right hand; the other\nladies, who were slaves, being placed at some distance on each\nside of the throne.\n\nAs soon as the caliph's lady was seated, the slaves who came in\nfirst made a sign for me to approach. I advanced between the two\nrows they had formed, and prostrated myself upon the carpet that\nwas under the princess's feet. She ordered me to rise, did me the\nhonour to ask my name, my family, and the state of my fortune; to\nall which I gave her satisfactory answers, as I perceived, not\nonly by her countenance, but by her words. \"I am glad,\" said she,\n\"that my daughter,\" (so she used to call the favourite lady,)\n\"for I look upon her as such after the care I have take of her\neducation, has made this choice; I approve of it, and consent to\nyour marriage. I will myself give orders for having it\nsolemnized; but I wish my daughter to remain with me ten days\nbefore the solemnity; in that time I will speak to the caliph,\nand obtain his consent: mean while do you remain here; you shall\nbe taken care of.\"\n\nPursuant to the commands of the caliph's lady, I remained ten\ndays in the women's apartments, and during that time was deprived\nof the pleasure of seeing the favourite lady: but was so well\nused by her orders, that I had no reason to be dissatisfied.\n\nZobeide told the caliph her resolution of marrying the favourite\nlady; and the caliph leaving to her the liberty to act in the\nbusiness as she thought proper, granted the favourite a\nconsiderable sum by way of settlement. When the ten days were\nexpired, Zobeide ordered the contract of marriage to be drawn up\nand brought to her, and the necessary preparations being made for\nthe solemnity, the musicians and the dancers, both male and\nfemale, were called in, and there were great rejoicings in the\npalace for nine days. The tenth day being appointed for the last\nceremony of the marriage, the favourite lady was conducted to a\nbath, and I to another. At night I had all manner of dishes\nserved up to me, and among others, one seasoned with garlic, such\nas you have now forced me to eat. This I liked so well, that I\nscarcely touched any of the other dishes. But to my misfortune,\nwhen I rose from table, instead of washing my hands well, I only\nwiped them; a piece of negligence of which I had never before\nbeen guilty.\n\nAs it was then night, the whole apartment of the ladies was\nlighted up so as to equal the brightness of day. Nothing was to\nbe heard through the palace but musical instruments, dances, and\nacclamations of joy. My bride and I were introduced into a great\nhall, where we were placed upon two thrones. The women who\nattended her made her robe herself several times, according to\nthe usual custom on wedding days; and they shewed her to me every\ntime she changed her habit.\n\nAll these ceremonies being over, we were conducted to the nuptial\nchamber: as soon as the company retired, I approached my wife;\nbut instead of returning my transports, she pushed me away, and\ncried out, upon which all the ladies of the apartment came\nrunning in to inquire the cause: and for my own part, I was so\nthunderstruck, that I stood like a statue, without the power of\neven asking what she meant. \"Dear sister,\" said they to her,\n\"what has happened since we left you? Let us know, that we may\ntry to relieve you.\" \"Take,\" said she, \"take that vile fellow out\nof my sight.\" \"Why, madam?\" I asked, \"wherein have I deserved\nyour displeasure?\" \"You are a villain,\" said she in a furious\npassion, \"to eat garlic, and not wash your hands! Do you think I\nwould suffer such a polluted wretch to poison me? Down with him,\ndown with him on the ground,\" continued she, addressing herself\nto the ladies, \"and bring me a bastinado.\" They immediately did\nas they were desired; and while some held my hands, and others my\nfeet, my wife, who was presently furnished with a weapon, laid on\nme as long as she could stand. She then said to the ladies, \"Take\nhim, send him to the judge, and let the hand be cut off with\nwhich he fed upon the garlic dish.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried I, \"must I be beaten unmercifully, and, to complete\nmy affliction, have my hand cut off, for partaking of a dish\nseasoned with garlic, and forgetting to wash my hands? What\nproportion is there between the punishment and the crime? Curse\non the dish, on the cook who dressed it, and on him who served it\nup.\"\n\nAll the ladies who had seen me receive the thousand strokes,\ntook pity on me, when they heard the cutting off of my hand\nmentioned. \"Dear madam, dear sister,\" said they to the favourite\nlady, \"you carry your resentment too far. We own he is a man\nquite ignorant of the world, of your quality, and the respect\nthat is due to you: but we beseech you to overlook and pardon his\nfault.\" \"I have not received adequate satisfaction,\" said she; \"I\nwill teach him to know the world; I will make him bear sensible\nmarks of his impertinence, and be cautious hereafter how he\ntastes a dish seasoned with garlic without washing his hands.\"\nThey renewed their solicitations, fell down at her feet, and\nkissing her fair hands, said, \"Good madam, moderate your anger,\nand grant us the favour we supplicate.\" She made no reply, but\ngot up, and after uttering a thousand reproaches against me,\nwalked out of the chamber: all the ladies followed her, leaving\nme in inconceivable affliction.\n\nI continued thus ten days, without seeing any body but an old\nfemale slave that brought me victuals. I asked her what was\nbecome of the favourite lady. \"She is sick,\" said the old woman;\n\"she is sick of the poisoned smell with which you infected her.\nWhy did you not take care to wash your hands after eating of that\ncursed dish?\"  \"Is it possible,\" thought I, \"that these ladies\ncan be so nice, and so vindictive for such a trifling fault!\" I\nloved my wife notwithstanding all her cruelty, and could not help\npitying her.\n\nOne day the old woman told me my spouse was recovered, and gone\nto bathe, and would come to see me the next day. \"So,\" said she,\n\"I would have you call up your patience, and endeavour to\naccommodate yourself to her humour. For she is in other respects\na woman of good sense and discretion, and beloved by all the\nladies about the court of our respected mistress Zobeide.\"\n\nMy wife accordingly came on the following evening, and accosted\nme thus: \"You perceive that I must possess much tenderness to\nyou, after the affront you have offered me: but still I cannot be\nreconciled till I have punished you according to your demerit, in\nnot washing your hands after eating of the garlic dish.\" She then\ncalled the ladies, who, by her order, threw me upon the ground;\nand after binding me fast, she had the barbarity to cut off my\nthumbs and great toes herself, with a razor. One of the ladies\napplied a certain root to staunch the blood; but by bleeding and\nby the pain, I swooned away.\n\nWhen I came to myself, they gave me wine to drink, to recruit my\nstrength. \"Ah! madam,\" said I to my wife, \"if ever I again eat of\na dish with garlic in it, I solemnly swear to wash my hands a\nhundred and twenty times with alkali, with ashes, and with soap.\"\n\"Well,\" replied she, \"upon that condition I am willing to forget\nwhat is past, and live with you as my husband.\"\n\n\"This,\" continued the Bagdad merchant, addressing himself to the\ncompany, \"is the reason why I refused to eat of the dish seasoned\nwith what is now on the table.\"\n\nThe ladies applied to my wounds not only the root I mentioned,\nbut likewise some balsam of Mecca, which they were well assured\nwas not adulterated, because they had it out of the caliph's own\ndispensatory. By virtue of that admirable balsam, I was in a few\ndays perfectly cured, and my wife and I lived together as\nagreeably as if I had never eaten of the garlic dish. But having\nbeen all my lifetime used to enjoy my liberty, I grew weary of\nbeing confined to the caliph's palace; yet I said nothing to my\nwife on the subject, for fear of displeasing her. However, she\nsuspected my feelings; and eagerly wished for liberty herself,\nfor it was gratitude alone that made her continue with Zobeide.\nShe represented to her mistress in such lively terms the\nconstraint I was under, in not living in the city with people of\nmy own rank, as I had always done, that the good princess chose\nrather to deprive herself of the pleasure of having her favourite\nabout her than not to grant what we both equally desired.\n\nA month after our marriage, my wife came into my room with\nseveral eunuchs, each carrying a bag of silver. When the eunuchs\nwere gone; \"You never told me,\" said she, \"that you were uneasy\nin being confined to court; but I perceived it, and have happily\nfound means to make you contented. My mistress Zobeide gives us\npermission to quit the palace; and here are fifty thousand\nsequins, of which she has made us a present, in order to enable\nus to live comfortably in the city. Take ten thousand of them,\nand go and buy us a house.\"\n\nI quickly found a house for the money, and after furnishing it\nrichly, we went to reside in it, kept a great many slaves of both\nsexes, and made a good figure. We thus began to live in a very\nagreeable manner: but my felicity was of short continuance; for\nat the end of a year my wife fell sick and died.\n\nI might have married again, and lived honourably at Bagdad; but\ncuriosity to see the world put me upon another plan. I sold my\nhouse, and after purchasing several kinds of merchandize, went\nwith a caravan to Persia; from Persia I travelled to Samarcand,\nand from thence to this city.\n\n\"This,\" said the purveyor to the sultan of Casgar, \"is the story\nthat the Bagdad merchant related in a company where I was\nyesterday.\" \"This story,\" said the sultan, \"has something in it\nextraordinary; but it does not come near that of the little\nhunch-back.\" The Jewish physician prostrated himself before the\nsultan's throne, and addressed the prince in the following\nmanner: \"Sir, if you will be so good as to hear me, I flatter\nmyself you will be pleased with a story I have to tell you.\"\n\"Well spoken,\" said the sultan; \"but if it be not more surprising\nthan that of little hunch-back, you must not expect to live.\"\n\nThe Jewish physician, finding the sultan of Casgar disposed to\nhear him, gave the following relation.\n\n\n\n\n           The Story told by the Jewish Physician.\n\n\n\nWhen I was studying physic at Damascus, and was just beginning to\npractise that noble profession with some reputation, a slave\ncalled me to see a patient in the governor of the city's family.\nAccordingly I went, and was conducted into a room, where I found\na very handsome young man, much dejected by his disorder. I\nsaluted him, and sat down by him; but he made no return to my\ncompliments, only a sign with his eyes that he heard me, and\nthanked me. \"Pray, sir,\" said I, \"give me your hand, that I may\nfeel your pulse.\" But instead of stretching out his right, he\ngave me his left hand, at which I was extremely surprised.\nHowever, I felt his pulse, wrote him a prescription, and took\nleave.\n\nI continued my visits for nine days, and every time I felt his\npulse, he still gave me his left hand. On the tenth day he seemed\nto be so far recovered, that I only deemed it necessary to\nprescribe bathing to him. The governor of Damascus, who was by,\nin testimony of his satisfaction with my service, invested me\nwith a very rich robe, saying, he had appointed me a physician of\nthe city hospital, and physician in ordinary to his house, where\nI might eat at his table when I pleased.\n\nThe young man likewise shewed me many civilities, and asked me to\naccompany him to the bath. Accordingly we went together, and when\nhis attendants had undressed him, I perceived he wanted the right\nhand, and that it had not long been cut off, which had been the\noccasion of his disorder, though concealed from me; for while the\npeople about him were applying proper remedies externally, they\nhad called me to prevent the ill consequence of the fever which\nwas on him. I was much surprised and concerned on seeing his\nmisfortune; which he observed by my countenance. \"Doctor,\" cried\nhe, \"do not be astonished that my hand is cut off; some day or\nother I will tell you the cause; and in that relation you will\nhear very surprising adventures.\"\n\nAfter we had returned from the bath, we sat down to a collation;\nand he asked me if it would be any prejudice to his health if he\nwent and took a walk out of town in the governor's garden? I made\nanswer, that the air would be of service to him. \"Then,\" said he,\n\"if you will give me your company, I will recount to you my\nhistory.\" I replied I was at his command for all that day. Upon\nwhich he presently called his servants, and we went to the\ngovernor's garden. Having taken two or three turns there, we\nseated ourselves on a carpet that his servants had spread under a\ntree, which gave a pleasant shade. The young man then gave me his\nhistory in the following terms:\n\nI was born at Moussol, of one of the most considerable families\nin the city. My father was the eldest of ten brothers, who were\nall alive and married when my grandfather died. All the brothers\nwere childless, except my father; and he had no child but me. He\ntook particular care of my education; and made me learn every\nthing proper for my rank.\n\nWhen I was grown up, and began to enter into the world, I\nhappened one Friday to be at noon-prayers with my father and my\nuncles in the great mosque of Moussol. After prayers were over,\nthe rest of the company going away, my father and my uncles\ncontinued sitting upon the best carpet in the mosque; and I sat\ndown by them. They discoursed of several things, but the\nconversation fell insensibly, I know not how, upon the subject of\ntravelling. They extolled the beauties and peculiar rarities of\nsome kingdoms, and of their principal cities. But one of my\nuncles said, that according to the uniform report of an infinite\nnumber of voyagers, there was not in the world a pleasanter\ncountry than Egypt, on account of the Nile; and the description\nhe gave infused into me such high admiration, that from that\nmoment I had a desire to travel thither. Whatever my other uncles\nsaid, by way of preference to Bagdad and the Tigris, in calling\nBagdad the residence of the Mussulmaun religion, and the\nmetropolis of all the cities of the earth, made no impression\nupon me. My father joined in opinion with those of his brothers\nwho had spoken in favour of Egypt; which filled me with joy. \"Say\nwhat you will,\" said he, \"the man that has not seen Egypt has not\nseen the greatest rarity in the world. All the land there is\ngolden; I mean, it is so fertile, that it enriches its\ninhabitants. All the women of that country charm you by their\nbeauty and their agreeable carriage. If you speak of the Nile,\nwhere is there a more wonderful river? What water was ever\nlighter or more delicious? The very slime it carries along in its\noverflowing fattens the fields, which produce a thousand times\nmore than other countries that are cultivated with the greatest\nlabour. Observe what a poet said of the Egyptians, when he was\nobliged to depart from Egypt: 'Your Nile loads you with blessings\nevery day; it is for you only that it runs from such a distance.\nAlas! in removing from you, my tears will flow as abundantly as\nits waters; you are to continue in the enjoyment of its\nsweetnesses, while I am condemned to deprive myself of them\nagainst my will.'\n\n\"If you look,\" added my father, \"towards the island that is\nformed by the two greatest branches of the Nile, what variety of\nverdure! What enamel of all sorts of flowers! What a prodigious\nnumber of cities, villages, canals, and a thousand other\nagreeable objects! If you turn your eyes on the other side, up\ntowards Ethiopia, how many other subjects of admiration! I cannot\ncompare the verdure of so many plains, watered by the different\ncanals of the island, better than to brilliant emeralds set in\nsilver. Is not Grand Cairo the largest, the most populous, and\nthe richest city in the world? What a number of magnificent\nedifices both public and private! If you view the pyramids, you\nwill be filled with astonishment at the sight of the masses of\nstone of an enormous thickness, which rear their heads to the\nskies! You will be obliged to confess, that the Pharaohs, who\nemployed such riches, and so many men in building them, must have\nsurpassed in magnificence and invention all the monarchs who have\nappeared since, not only in Egypt, but in all the world, for\nhaving left monuments so worthy of their memory: monuments so\nancient, that the learned cannot agree upon the date of their\nerection; yet such as will last to the end of time. I pass over\nin silence the maritime cities of the kingdom of Egypt, such as\nDamietta, Rosetta, and Alexandria, where nations come for various\nsorts of grain, cloth, and an infinite number of commodities\ncalculated for accommodation and delight. I speak of what I know;\nfor I spent some years there in my youth, which I shall always\nreckon the most agreeable part of my life.\"\n\nMy uncles could make no reply, and assented to all my father had\nsaid of the Nile, of Cairo, and of the whole kingdom of Egypt. My\nimagination was so full of these subjects, I could not sleep that\nnight. Soon after, my uncles declared how much they were struck\nwith my father's account. They made a proposal to him, that they\nshould travel all together into Egypt. To this he assented; and\nbeing rich merchants, they resolved to carry with them such\ncommodities as were likely to suit the market. When I found that\nthey were making preparations for their departure, I went to my\nfather, and begged of him, with tears in my eyes, that he would\nsuffer me to make one of the party, and allow me some stock of\ngoods to trade with on my own account. \"You are too young,\" said\nhe, \"to travel into Egypt; the fatigue is too great for you; and,\nbesides, I am sure you will come off a loser in your traffic.\"\nThese words, however, did not suppress my eager desire to travel.\nI made use of my uncles' interest with my father, who at last\ngranted me permission to go as far as Damascus, where they were\nto leave me, till they had travelled through Egypt. \"The city of\nDamascus,\" said my father, \"may likewise glory in its beauties,\nand my son must be content with leave to go so far.\" Though my\ncuriosity to see Egypt was very pressing, I considered he was my\nfather, and submitted to his will.\n\nI set out from Moussol in company with him and my uncles. We\ntravelled through Mesopotamia, passed the Euphrates, and arrived\nat Aleppo, where we stayed some days. From thence we went to\nDamascus, the first sight of which struck me with agreeable\nsurprise We lodged all together in one khan; and I had the view\nof a city that was large, populous, full of handsome people, and\nwell fortified. We employed some days in walking up and down the\ndelicious gardens that surrounded it; and we all agreed that\nDamascus was justly said to be seated in a paradise. At last my\nuncles thought of pursuing their journey; but took care, before\nthey went, to sell my goods so advantageously for me, that I\ngained by them five hundred per cent. This sale brought me a sum\nso considerable, as to fill me with delight.\n\nMy father and my uncles left me in Damascus, and pursued their\njourney. After their departure, I used great caution not to lay\nout my money idly. But at the same time I took a stately house,\nbuilt of marble, adorned with paintings of gold, silver foliage,\nand a garden with fine water-works. I furnished it, not so richly\nindeed as the magnificence of the place deserved, but at least\nhandsomely enough for a young man of my rank. It formerly\nbelonged to one of the principal lords of the city; but was then\nthe property of a rich jewel-merchant, to whom I paid for it only\ntwo sherifs a month. I had a number of domestics, and lived\nhonourably; sometimes I gave entertainments to such people as I\nhad made an acquaintance with, and sometimes was treated by them.\nThus did I spend my time at Damascus, waiting for my father's\nreturn; no passion disturbed my repose, and my only employment\nwas conversing with people of credit.\n\nOne day, as I sat taking the cool air at my gate, a very\nhandsome, well-dressed lady came to me, and asked if I did not\nsell stuffs? She had no sooner spoken the words, than she went\ninto my house.\n\nWhen I saw that the lady had entered the house, I rose, and\nhaving shut the gate, conducted into a hall, and prayed her to\nsit down. \"Madam,\" said I, \"I have had stuffs fit to be strewn to\nyou, but at present, I am sorry to say, I have none.\" She removed\nthe veil from her face, and discovered such beauty as affected me\nwith emotions I had never felt before. \"I have no occasion for\nstuffs,\" replied she, \"I only come to see you, and, if you\nplease, to pass the evening in your company; all I ask of you is\na light collation.\"\n\nTransported with joy, I ordered the servants to bring us several sorts\nof fruit, and some bottles of wine. These being speedily served, we\nate, drank, and made merry till midnight. In short, I had not before\npassed a night so agreeably as this. Next morning I would have put ten\nsherifs into the lady's hands, but she drew back instantly. \"I am not\ncome to see you,\" said she, \"from interested motives; you therefore do\nme wrong. So far from receiving money from you, I must insist on your\ntaking some from me, or else I will see you no more.\" In speaking\nthis, she put her hand into her purse, took out ten sherifs, and\nforced me to take them, saying, \"You may expect me three days hence\nafter sun-set. She then took leave of me, and I felt that when she\nwent she carried my heart along with her.\"\n\nShe did not fail to return at the appointed hour three days\nafter; and I received her with all the joy of a person who waited\nimpatiently for her arrival. The evening and the night we spent\nas before; and next day at parting she promised to return the\nthird day after. She did not, however, leave me without forcing\nme to take ten sherifs more.\n\nShe returned a third time; and at that interview, when we were\nboth warm with wine, she spoke thus: \"My dear love, what do you\nthink of me? Am I not handsome and agreeable?\" \"Madam,\" I\nreplied, \"I think this an unnecessary question: the love which I\nshew you ought to persuade you that I admire you; I am charmed to\nsee and to possess you. You are my queen, my sultaness; in you\nlies all the felicity of my life.\" \"Ah!\" returned she, \"I am sure\nyou would speak otherwise, if you saw a certain lady of my\nacquaintance, who is younger and handsomer than I am. She is of\nsuch a pleasant lively temper, that she would make the most\nmelancholy people merry: I must bring her hither; I spoke of you\nto her, and from the account I have given of you she is dying\nwith desire to see you. She intreated me to procure her that\npleasure, but I did not dare to promise her without speaking to\nyou beforehand.\" \"Madam,\" said I, \"do what you please; but\nwhatever you may say of your friend, I defy all her charms to\ntear my heart from you, to whom it is so inviolably attached,\nthat nothing can disengage it.\" \"Be not too positive,\" returned\nshe; \"I now tell you, I am about to put your heart to a severe\ntrial.\"\n\nWe continued together all night, and next morning at parting,\ninstead of ten sherifs she gave me fifteen, which I was forced to\naccept. \"Remember,\" said she, \"that in two days' time you are to\nhave a new guest; pray take care to give her a good reception: we\nwill come at the usual hour.\" I had my hall put in great order,\nand a handsome collation prepared against they came.\n\nI waited for the two ladies with impatience and at last they\narrived at the close of the day. They both unveiled, and as I had\nbeen surprised with the beauty of the first, I had reason to be\nmuch more so when I saw her friend. She had regular features, an\nelegant person, and such sparkling eyes, that I could hardly bear\ntheir splendour. I thanked her for the honour she did me, and\nentreated her to excuse me if I did not give her the reception\nshe deserved. \"No compliments,\" replied she; \"it should be my\npart to make them to you, for allowing my friend to bring me\nhither. But since you are pleased to suffer it, let us lay aside\nall ceremony, and think only of amusing ourselves.\"\n\nI had given orders, as soon as the ladies arrived, to have the\ncollation served up, and we soon sat down to our entertainment. I\nplaced myself opposite the stranger, who never ceased looking\nupon me with a smiling countenance. I could not resist her\nconquering eyes, and she made herself mistress of my heart,\nwithout opposition. But while she inspired me with a flame, she\ncaught it herself; and so far from appearing to be under any\nconstraint, she conversed in very free and lively language.\n\nThe other lady, who observed us, did nothing at first but laugh.\n\"I told you,\" said she, addressing herself to me, \"you would find\nmy friend full of charms; and I perceive you have already\nviolated the oath you made of being faithful to me.\" \"Madam,\"\nreplied I, laughing as well as she, \"you would have reason to\ncomplain, if I were wanting in civility to a lady whom you\nbrought hither, and who is your intimate friend; both of you\nmight then upbraid me for not performing duly the rites of\nhospitality.\"\n\nWe continued to drink; but as the wine warmed us, the strange\nlady and I ogled one another with so little reserve, that her\nfriend grew jealous, and quickly gave us a dismal proof of the\ninveteracy of her feelings. She rose from the table and went out,\nsaying, she would be with us presently again: but in a few\nmoments after, the lady who stayed with me changed countenance,\nfell into violent convulsions, and expired in my arms while I was\ncalling for assistance to relieve her. I went out immediately,\nand enquired for the other lady; when my people told me, she had\nopened the street door and was gone. I then suspected what was\nbut too true, that she had been the cause of her friend's death.\nShe had the dexterity, and the malice, to put some very strong\npoison into the last glass, which she gave her with her own hand.\n\nI was afflicted beyond measure with the accident. \"What shall I\ndo?\" I exclaimed in agony. \"What will become of me?\" I considered\nthere was no time to lose, and it being then moon-light, I\nordered my servants to take up one of the large pieces of marble,\nwith which the court of my house was paved, dig a hole, and there\ninter the corpse of the young lady. After replacing the stone, I\nput on a travelling suit, took what money I had; and having\nlocked up every thing, affixed my own seal on the door of my\nhouse. This done I went to the jewel-merchant my landlord, paid\nhim what I owed, with a year's rent in advance and giving him the\nkey, prayed him to keep it for me. \"A very urgent affair,\" said\nI, \"obliges me to be absent for some time; I am under the\nnecessity of going to visit my uncles at Cairo.\" I took my leave\nof him, immediately mounted my horse, and departed with my\nattendants from Damascus.\n\nI had a good journey, and arrived at Cairo without any accident.\nThere I met with my uncles, who were much surprised to see me. To\nexcuse myself, I pretended I was tired of waiting; and hearing\nnothing of them, was so uneasy, that I could not be satisfied\nwithout coming to Cairo. They received me kindly, and promised\nthat my father should not be displeased with me for leaving\nDamascus without his permission. I lodged in the same khan with\nthem, and saw all the curiosities of Cairo.\n\nHaving finished their traffic, they began to talk of returning to\nMoussol, and to make preparations for their departure; but I,\nhaving a wish to view in Egypt what I had not yet seen, left my\nuncles, and went to lodge in another quarter at a distance from\ntheir khan, and did not appear any more till they were gone. They\nsought for me all over the city; but not finding me, supposed\nremorse for having come to Egypt without my father's consent had\noccasioned me to return to Damascus, without saying any thing to\nthem. So they began their journey, expecting to find me at\nDamascus, and there to take me up.\n\nAfter their departure I continued at Cairo three years, more\ncompletely to indulge my curiosity in seeing all the wonders of Egypt.\nDuring that time I took care to remit money to the jewel-merchant,\nordering him to keep my house for me; for I designed to return to\nDamascus, and reside there some years longer. I had no adventure at\nCairo worth relating; but doubtless you will be much surprised at that\nwhich befell me on my return to Damascus.\n\nArriving at this city, I went to the jewel-merchant's, who\nreceived me joyfully, and would accompany me to my house, to shew\nme that no one had entered it whilst I was absent. The seal was\nstill entire upon the lock; and when I went in, I found every\nthing in the order in which I had left it.\n\nIn sweeping and cleaning out the hall where I had eaten with the\nladies, one of my servants found a gold chain necklace, with ten\nvery large and perfect pearls strung upon it at certain\ndistances. He brought it to me, when I knew it to be the same I\nhad seen upon the lady's neck who was poisoned; and concluded it\nhad broken off and fallen. I could not look upon it without\nshedding tears, when I called to mind the lovely creature I had\nseen die in such a shocking manner. I wrapped it up, and put it\nin my bosom.\n\nI rested some days to recover from the fatigues of my journey;\nafter which, I began to visit my former acquaintance. I abandoned\nmyself to every species of pleasure, and gradually squandered\naway all my money. Being thus reduced, instead of selling my\nfurniture, I resolved to part with the necklace; but I had so\nlittle skill in pearls, that I took my measures very ill, as you\nshall hear.\n\nI went to the bazaar, where I called a crier aside, and shewing\nhim the necklace, told him I wished to sell it, and desired him\nto show it to the principal jewellers. The crier was surprised to\nsee such a valuable ornament. \"How beautiful,\" exclaimed he,\ngazing upon it with admiration, \"never did our merchants see any\nthing so rich; I am sure I shall oblige them highly in shewing\nit to them; and you need not doubt they will set a high price\nupon it, in emulation of each other.\" He carried me to a shop\nwhich proved to be my landlord's: \"Stop here,\" said the crier, \"I\nwill return presently and bring you an answer.\"\n\nWhile he was running about to shew the necklace, I sat with the\njeweller, who was glad to see me, and we conversed on different\nsubjects. The crier returned, and calling me aside, instead of\ntelling me the necklace was valued at two thousand sherifs,\nassured me nobody would give me more than fifty. \"The reason is,\"\nadded he, \"the pearls are false; consider if you will part with\nit at that price.\" I took him at his word, wanting money. \"Go,\"\nsaid I, \"I take your word, and that of those who know better than\nmyself; deliver it to them, and bring me the money immediately.\"\n\nThe crier had been ordered to offer me fifty sherifs by one of\nthe richest jewellers in town who had only made that offer to\nsound me, and try if I was well acquainted with the value of the\npearls. He had no sooner received my answer, than he carried the\ncrier to the judge, and shewing him the necklace; \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"here is a necklace which was stolen from me, and the thief,\nunder the character of a merchant, has had the impudence to offer\nit to sale, and is at this minute in the bazaar. He is willing to\ntake fifty sherifs for a necklace that is worth two thousand\nwhich is a clear proof of his having stolen it.\"\n\nThe Judge sent immediately to seize me, and when I came before\nhim, he asked me if the necklace he had in his hand was not the\nsame that I had exposed to sale in the bazaar. I told him it was.\n\"Is it true,\" demanded he, \"that you are willing to sell it for\nfifty sherifs?\" I answered I was. \"Well,\" continued he, in a\nscoffing way \"give him the bastinado; he will quickly confess\nnotwithstanding his merchant's disguise, that he is only an\nartful thief; let him be beaten till he owns his guilt.\" The pain\nof the torture made me tell a lie; I confessed, though it was not\ntrue that I had stolen the necklace; and the judge ordered my\nhand to be cut off according to the sentence of our law.\n\nThis made a great noise in the bazaar, and I was scarcely\nreturned to my house when my landlord came. \"My son,\" said he,\n\"you seem to be a young man well educated, and of good sense; how\nis it possible you could be guilty of such an unworthy action, as\nthat I hear talked of? You gave me an account of your property\nyourself, and I do not doubt but the account was just. Why did\nnot you request money of me, and I would have lent it you?\nHowever, after what has happened, I cannot allow you to remain\nlonger in my house; you must go and seek for other lodgings.\" I\nwas extremely troubled at this; and entreated the jeweller, with\ntears in my eyes, to let me stay three days longer; which he\ngranted.\n\n\"Alas,\" thought I, \"this misfortune and affront are unsufferable;\nhow shall I dare to return to Moussol? Nothing I can say to my\nfather will persuade him that I am innocent.\"\n\nThree hours after this fatal accident my house was forcibly\nentered by the judge's officers, accompanied by my landlord, and\nthe merchant who had falsely accused me of having stolen the\nnecklace. I asked them, what brought them there? But instead of\ngiving me any answer, they bound and gagged me, calling me a\nthousand abusive names, and telling me the necklace belonged to\nthe governor of Damascus, who had lost it above three years\nbefore, and that one of his daughters had not been heard of\nsince. Judge of my sensations when I heard this intelligence.\nHowever, I summoned all my resolution, \"I will,\" thought I, \"tell\nthe governor the truth, and it will rest with him either to put\nme to death, or to protect my innocence.\"\n\nWhen I was brought before him, I observed he looked upon me with\nan eye of compassion, from whence I augured well. He ordered me\nto be untied, and addressing himself to the jeweller who accused\nme, and to my landlord: \"Is this the man,\" asked he, \"that sold\nthe pearl necklace?\" They had no sooner answered yes, than he\ncontinued, \"I am sure he did not steal the necklace, and I am\nmuch astonished at the injustice that has been done him.\" These\nwords giving me courage: \"Sir,\" said I, \"I do assure you I am\nperfectly innocent. I am likewise fully persuaded the necklace\nnever did belong to my accuser, whom I never saw, and whose\nhorrible perfidy is the cause of my unjust treatment. It is true,\nI made a confession as if I had stolen it; but this I did\ncontrary to my conscience, through the force of torture, and for\nanother reason that I am ready to give you, if you will have the\ngoodness to hear me.\" \"I know enough of it already,\" replied the\ngovernor, \"to do you one part of the justice to which you are\nentitled. Take from hence,\" continued he, \"the false accuser; let\nhim undergo the same punishment as he caused to be inflicted on\nthis young man, whose innocence is known to myself.\"\n\nThe governor's orders were immediately put in execution; the\njeweller was punished as he deserved. Then the governor, having\nordered all present to withdraw, said to me: \"My son, tell me\nwithout fear how this necklace fell into your hands, conceal\nnothing from me.\" I related plainly all that had passed, and\ndeclared I had chosen rather to pass for a thief than to reveal\nthat tragical adventure. \"Good God,\" exclaimed the governor, \"thy\njudgments are incomprehensible, and we ought to submit to them\nwithout murmuring. I receive, with entire submission, the stroke\nthou hast been pleased to inflict upon me.\" Then directing his\ndiscourse to me: \"My son,\" said he, \"having now heard the cause\nof your disgrace, for which I am truly concerned, I will give you\nan account of the affliction which has befallen myself. Know\nthen, that I am the father of both the young ladies you were\nspeaking of. The first lady, who had the impudence to come to\nyour house, was my eldest daughter. I had given her in marriage\nat Cairo to one of her cousins, my brother's son. Her husband\ndied, and she returned home corrupted by every vice too often\ncontracted in Egypt. Before I took her home, her younger sister,\nwho died in that deplorable manner in your arms, was a truly\nvirtuous girl, and had never given me any occasion to complain of\nher conduce. But after that, the elder sister became very\nintimate with her, and insensibly made her as wicked as herself.\nThe day after the death of the younger not finding her at home, I\nasked her elder sister what was become of her; but she, instead\nof answering, affected to weep bitterly; from whence I formed a\nfatal presage. I pressed her to inform me of what she knew\nrespecting her sister 'Father,' replied she, sobbing, 'I can tell\nyou no more than that my sister put on yesterday her richest\ndress, with her valuable pearl necklace, went out, and has not\nbeen heard of since.' I searched for her all over the town, but\ncould learn nothing of her unhappy fate. In the mean time the\nelder, who doubtless repented of her jealous fury, became\nmelancholy, and incessantly bewailed the death of her sister; she\ndenied her self all manner of food, and so put an end to her\ndeplorable days. Such is the condition of mankind! such are the\nmisfortunes to which we are exposed! However, my son,\" added he,\n\"since we are both of us equally unfortunate, let us unite our\nsorrow, and not abandon one another. I will give you in marriage\na third daughter I have still left, she is younger than her\nsisters, and in no respect imitates their conduct; besides, she\nis handsomer, and I assure you is of a disposition calculated to\nmake you happy. You shall have no other house but mine, and,\nafter my death, you and she shall be heirs to all my property.\"\n\"My lord,\" I replied, \"I am overcome by your favours, and shall\nnever be able to make a sufficient acknowledgment.\" \"Enough,\"\nsaid he, interrupting me, \"let us not waste time in idle words.\"\nHe then called for witnesses, ordered the contract of marriage to\nbe drawn, and I became the husband of his third daughter. He was\nnot satisfied with punishing the jeweller, who had falsely\naccused me, but confiscated for my use all his property, which\nwas very considerable. As for the rest, since you have been\ncalled to the governor's house, you may have seen what respect\nthey pay me there. I must tell you further, that a person\ndespatched by my uncles to Egypt, on purpose to inquire for me\nthere, passing through this city found me out last night, and\ndelivered me a letter from them. They inform me of my father's\ndeath, and invite me to come and take possession of his property\nat Moussol. But as the alliance and friendship of the governor\nhave fixed me here, and will not suffer me to leave him, I have\nsent back the express with a power, which will secure to me my\ninheritance. After what you have heard, I hope you will pardon my\nseeming incivility during the course of my illness, in giving you\nmy left instead of my right hand.\n\n\"This,\" said the Jewish physician, \"is the story I heard from\nthe young man of Moussol. I continued at Damascus as long as the\ngovernor lived; after his death, being still in the vigour of my\nage, I had the curiosity to travel. Accordingly I went through\nPersia to the Indies, and came at last to settle in this your\ncapital, where I have practised physic with reputation.\"\n\nThe sultan of Casgar was well pleased with this story. \"I must\nconfess,\" said he to the Jew, \"the story you have told me is very\nsingular; but I declare freely, that of the little hump-back is:\nyet more extraordinary, and much more diverting; so you are not\nto expect that I will give you your life, any more than the rest.\nI will have you all four executed.\" \"Pray, sir, stay a minute,\"\nsaid the tailor, advancing, and prostrating himself at the\nsultan's feet. \"Since your majesty loves pleasant stories, I have\none to tell you that will not displease you.\" \"Well, I will hear\nthee too,\" said the sultan; \"but do not flatter thyself that I\nwill suffer thee to live, unless thou tellest me some adventure\nthat is yet more diverting than that of my hump-backed jester.\"\nUpon this the tailor, as if he had been sure of success, spoke\nboldly to the following purpose.\n\n\n\n\n                 The Story told by the Tailor.\n\n\n\nA citizen of this city did me the honour two days ago to invite\nme to an entertainment, which he was to give to his friends\nyesterday morning. Accordingly I went early, and found there\nabout twenty persons.\n\nThe master of the house was gone out upon some business, but in a\nshort time returned, and brought with him a young man, a\nstranger, very well dressed, and handsome, but lame. When he\nentered, we all rose, and out of respect to the master of the\nhouse, invited the young man to sit down with us upon the\nestrade. He was going to comply; but suddenly perceiving a barber\nin our company, flew backwards, and made towards the door. The\nmaster of the house, surprised at his behaviour, stopped him.\n\"Where are you going?\" demanded he. \"I bring you along with me to\ndo me the honour of being my guest among the rest of my friends,\nand you are no sooner got into my house, than you are for running\naway.\" \"Sir,\" replied the young man, \"for God's sake do not stop\nme, let me go, I cannot without horror look upon that abominable\nbarber, who, though he was born in a country where all the\nnatives are white, resembles an Ethiopian; and his soul is yet\nblacker and more horrible than his face.\"\n\nWe were all surprised to hear the young man speak in this manner,\nand began to have a very bad opinion of the barber, without\nknowing what ground the young man had for what he said. Nay, we\nprotested we would not suffer any one to remain in our company,\nwho bore so horrid a character. The master of the house intreated\nthe stranger to tell us what reason he had for hating the barber.\n\"Gentlemen,\" resumed the young man, \"you must know this cursed\nbarber is the cause of my being lame, and having fallen into the\nmost ridiculous and teasing situation you can imagine. For this\nreason I have sworn to avoid all the places where he is, and even\nnot to stay in the cities where he resides. It was for this\nreason that I left Bagdad, where he then dwelt; and travelled so\nfar to settle in this city, at the extremity of Tartary; a place\nwhere I flattered myself I should never see him. And now, after\nall, contrary to my expectation, I find him here. This obliges\nme, gentlemen, against my will, to deprive myself of the honour\nof being merry with you. This very day I shall take leave of your\ntown, and go, if I can, to hide my head where he cannot come.\"\nThis said, he would have left us, but the master of the house\nearnestly intreated him to stay, and tell us the cause of his\naversion for the barber, who all this while looked down and said\nnot a word. We joined with the master of the house in his\nrequest; and at last the young man, yielding to our\nimportunities, sat down; and, after turning his back on the\nbarber, that he might not see him, gave us the following\nnarrative of his adventures.\n\nMy father's quality might have entitled him to the highest posts\nin the city of Bagdad, but he always preferred a quiet life to\nthe honours of a public station. I was his only child, and when\nhe died I had finished my education, and was of age to dispose of\nthe plentiful fortune he had left me; which I did not squander\naway foolishly, but applied to such uses as obtained for me\neverybody's respect. I had not yet been disturbed by any passion:\nI was so far from being sensible of love, that I bashfully\navoided the conversation of women. One day, walking in the\nstreets, I saw a large party of ladies before me; and that I\nmight not meet them, I turned down a narrow lane, and sat down\nupon a bench by a door. I was placed opposite a window, where\nstood a pot of beautiful flowers, on which I had my eyes fixed,\nwhen the window opened, and a young lady appeared, whose beauty\nstruck me. Immediately she fixed her eyes upon me; and in\nwatering the flowerpot with a hand whiter than alabaster, looked\nupon me with a smile, that inspired me with as much love for her\nas I had formerly aversion for all women. After having watered\nher flowers, and darted upon me a glance full of charms that\npierced my heart, she shut the window, and left me in\ninconceivable perplexity, from which I should not have recovered,\nif a noise in the street had not brought me to myself. I lifted\nup my head, and turning, saw the first cauzee of the city,\nmounted on a mule, and attended by five or six servants: he\nalighted at the door of the house, where the young lady had\nopened the window, and went in; from whence I concluded he was\nher father. I went home in an altered state of mind; agitated by\na passion the more violent, as I had never felt its assaults\nbefore: I retired to bed in a violent fever, at which all the\nfamily were much concerned. My relations, who had a great\naffection for me, were so alarmed by the sudden disorder, that\nthey importuned me to tell the cause; which I took care not to\ndiscover. My silence created an uneasiness that the physicians\ncould not dispel, because they knew nothing of my distemper, and\nby their medicines rather inflamed than checked it. My relations\nbegan to despair of my life, when an old lady of our\nacquaintance, hearing I was ill, came to see me. She considered\nme with great attention, and after having examined me,\npenetrated, I know not how, into the real cause of my illness.\nShe took my relations aside, and desired all my people would\nretire out of the room, and leave her with me alone.\n\nWhen the room was clear, she sat down on the side of my bed. \"My\nson,\" said she, \"you have obstinately concealed the cause of your\nillness; but you have no occasion to reveal it to me. I have\nexperience enough to penetrate into a secret; you will not deny\nwhen I tell you it is love that makes you sick. I can find a way\nto cure you, if you will but inform me who that happy lady is,\nthat could move a heart so insensible as yours; for you have the\ncharacter of a woman-hater, and I was not the last who perceived\nthat such was your disposition; but what I foresaw has come to\npass, and I am now glad of the opportunity to employ my talents\nin relieving your pain.\"\n\nThe old lady having thus spoken, paused, expecting my answer; but\nthough what she had said had made a strong impression upon me, I\ndurst not lay open to her the bottom of my heart; I only turned\nto her, and heaved a deep sigh, without replying a word. \"Is it\nbashfulness,\" said she, \"that keeps you silent? Or is it want of\nconfidence in me? Do you doubt the effect of my promise? I could\nmention to you a number of young men of your acquaintance, who\nhave been in the same condition with yourself, and have received\nrelief from me.\"\n\nThe good lady told me so many more circumstances that I broke\nsilence, declared to her my complaint, pointed out to her the\nplace where I had seen the object which occasioned it, and\nunravelled all the circumstances of my adventure. \"If you\nsucceed,\" added I, \"and procure me the happiness of seeing that\ncharming beauty, and revealing to her the passion with which I\nburn for her, you may depend upon it I will be grateful.\" \"My\nson,\" replied the old woman, \"I know the lady you speak of; she\nis, as you rightly judged, the daughter of the first cauzee of\nthis city: I am not surprised that you are in love with her. She\nis the handsomest and most lovely lady in Bagdad, but very proud,\nand of difficult access. You know how strict our judges are, in\nenjoining the punctual observance of the severe laws that confine\nwomen; and they are yet more strict in the observation of them in\ntheir own families; the cauzee you saw is more rigid in that\npoint than any of the other magistrates. They are always\npreaching to their daughters what a heinous crime it is to shew\nthemselves to men; and the girls themselves are so prepossessed\nwith the notion, that they make no other use of their own eves\nbut to conduct them along the street, when necessity obliges them\nto go abroad. I do not say absolutely that the first cauzee's\ndaughter is of that humour; but that does not hinder my fearing\nto meet with as great obstacles on her side, as on her father's.\nWould to God you had loved any other, then I should not have had\nso many difficulties to surmount. However, I will employ all my\nwits to compass the matter; but it requires time. In the mean\nwhile take courage and trust to me.\"\n\nThe old woman took leave; and as I weighed within myself all the\nobstacles she had been talking of, the fear of her not succeeding\nin her undertaking inflamed my disorder. Next day she came again,\nand I read in her countenance that she had no favourable news to\nimpart. She spoke thus: \"My son, I was not mistaken, I have\nsomewhat else to conquer besides the vigilance of a father. You\nlove an insensible object, who takes pleasure in making every one\nmiserable who suffers himself to be charmed by her; she will not\ndeign them the least comfort: she heard me with pleasure, when I\nspoke of nothing but the torment she made you undergo; but I no\nsooner opened my mouth to engage her to allow you to see her, and\nconverse with her, but casting at me a terrible look, 'You are\nvery presumptuous,' said she, 'to make such a proposal to me; I\ncharge you never to insult me again with such language.'\n\n\"Do not let this cast you down,\" continued she; \"I am not easily\ndisheartened, and am not without hope but I shall compass my\nend.\" To shorten my story, this good woman made several fruitless\nattacks in my behalf on the proud enemy of my rest. The vexation\nI suffered inflamed my distemper to that degree, that my\nphysicians gave me over. I was considered as a dead man, when the\nold woman came to recall me to life.\n\nThat no one might hear what was said, she whispered in my ear;\n\"Remember the present you owe for the good news I bring you.\"\nThese words produced a marvellous effect; I raised myself up in\nthe bed, and with transport replied, \"You shall not go without a\npresent; but what is the news you bring me?\" \"Dear sir,\" said she\n\"you shall not die; I shall speedily have the pleasure to see you\nin perfect health, and very well satisfied with me. Yesterday I\nwent to see the lady you love, and found her in good humour. As\nsoon as I entered, I put on a sad countenance heaved many deep\nsighs, and began to squeeze out some tears. 'My good mother,'\ndemanded she 'what is the matter with you, why are you so cast\ndown?' 'Alas, my dear and honourable lady,' I replied, 'I have\njust been with the young gentleman of whom I spoke to you the\nother day, who is dying on your account.' 'I am at a loss to\nknow,' said she, 'how you make me to be the cause of his death.\nHow can I have contributed to it?' 'How?' replied I; 'did not you\ntell me the other day, that he sat down before your window when\nyou opened it to water your flower-pot? He then saw that prodigy\nof beauty, those charms that your mirror daily represents to you.\nFrom that moment he languished, and his disorder has so\nincreased, that he is reduced to the deplorable condition I have\nmentioned.'\n\n\"'You well remember,' added I, 'how harshly you treated me at our\nlast interview; when I was speaking to you of his illness, and\nproposing a way to save him from the threatened consequences of\nhis complaint. After I left you I went directly to his house, and\nhe no sooner learnt from my countenance that I had brought no\nfavourable answer than his distemper increased. From that time,\nmadam, he has been at the point of death; and I doubt whether\nyour compassion would not now come too late to save his life.'\nThe fear of your death alarmed her, and I saw her face change\ncolour. 'Is your account true?' she asked. 'Has he actually no\nother disorder than what is occasioned by his love of me?' 'Ah,\nmadam!' I replied, 'it is too true; would it were false!' 'Do you\nbelieve,' said she, 'that the hopes of seeing me would at all\ncontribute to rescue him from his danger?' I answered, 'Perhaps\nit may, and if you will permit me, I will try the remedy.'?\n'Well,' resumed she, sighing, 'give him hopes of seeing me; but\nhe must pretend to no other favours, unless he aspire to marry\nme, and obtains my father's consent.' 'Madam,' replied I. 'your\ngoodness overcomes me; I will instantly seek the young gentleman,\nand tell him he is to have the pleasure of an interview with\nyou.' 'The best opportunity I can think of,' said she, 'for\ngranting him that favour, will be next Friday at the hour of noon\nprayers. Let him observe when my father goes out, and then, if\nhis health permits him to be abroad, come and place himself\nopposite the house. I shall then see him from my window, and will\ncome down and open the door for him: we will converse together\nduring prayer-time; but he must depart before my father returns.'\n\n\"It is now Tuesday,\" continued the old lady \"you have the\ninterval between this and Friday to recover your strength, and\nmake the necessary dispositions for the interview.\" While the\ngood old lady was speaking, I felt my illness decrease, or\nrather, by the time she had done, I found myself perfectly\nrecovered. \"Here, take this,\" said I, reaching out to her my\npurse, which was full, \"it is to you alone that I owe my cure. I\nreckon this money better employed than all that I gave the\nphysicians, who have only tormented me during my illness.\"\n\nWhen the lady was gone, I found I had strength enough to get up:\nand my relations finding me so well, complimented me on the\noccasion, and went home.\n\nOn Friday morning the old woman came, just as I was dressing, and\nchoosing out the richest clothes in my wardrobe, said, \"I do not\nask you how you are, what you are about is intimation enough of\nyour health; but will not you bathe before you go?\" \"That will\ntake up too much time,\" I replied; \"I will content myself with\nsending for a barber, to shave my head.\" Immediately I ordered\none of my slaves to call a barber that could do his business\ncleverly and expeditiously.\n\nThe slave brought me the wretch you see here, who came, and after\nsaluting me, said, \"Sir, you look as if you were not well.\" I\ntold him I was just recovered from a fit of sickness. \"May God,\"\nresumed he, \"deliver you from all mischance; may his grace always\ngo along with you.\" \"I hope he will grant your wish, for which I\nam obliged to you.\" \"Since you are recovering from a fit of\nsickness,\" he continued, \"I pray God preserve your health; but\nnow let me know what I am to do; I have brought my razors and my\nlancets, do you desire to be shaved or to be bled?\" I replied, \"I\nam just recovered from a fit of sickness, and you may readily\njudge I only want to be shaved: come, do not lose time in\nprattling; for I am in haste, and have an appointment precisely\nat noon.\"\n\nThe barber spent much time in opening his case, and preparing his\nrazors Instead of putting water into the basin, he took a very\nhandsome astrolabe out of his case, and went very gravely out of\nmy room to the middle of the court to take the height of the sun:\nhe returned with the same grave pace, and entering my room, said,\n\"Sir, you will be pleased to know this day is Friday the 18th of\nthe moon Suffir, in the year 653, from the retreat of our great\nprophet from Mecca to Medina, and in the year 7320 of the epocha\nof the great Iskender with two horns; and that the conjunction of\nMars and Mercury signifies you cannot choose a better time than\nthis very day and hour for being shaved. But, on the other hand,\nthe same conjunction is a bad presage to you. I learn from it,\nthat this day you run a great risk, not indeed of losing your\nlife, but of an inconvenience which will attend you while you\nlive. You are obliged to me for the advice I now give you, to\navoid this accident; I shall be sorry if it befall you.\"\n\nYou may guess, gentlemen, how vexed I was at having fallen into\nthe hands of such a prattling, impertinent fellow; what an\nunseasonable adventure was it for a lover preparing for an\ninterview with his mistress! I was quite irritated. \"I care not,\"\nsaid I, in anger, \"for your advice and predictions; I did not\ncall you to consult your astrology; you came hither to shave me;\nshave me, or begone.\" \"I will call another barber, sir,\" replied\nhe, with a coolness that put me out of all patience; \"what reason\nhave you to be angry with me? You do not know, that all of my\nprofession are not like me; and that if you made it your business\nto search, you would not find such another. You only sent for a\nbarber; but here, in my person, you have the best barber in\nBagdad, an experienced physician, a profound chemist, an\ninfallible astrologer, a finished grammarian, a complete orator,\na subtle logician, a mathematician perfectly well versed in\ngeometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and all the refinements of\nalgebra; an historian fully master of the histories of all the\nkingdoms of the universe. Besides, I understand all parts of\nphilosophy. I have all our sacred traditions by heart. I am a\npoet, I am an architect; and what is it I am not? There is\nnothing in nature hidden from me. Your deceased father, to whose\nmemory I pay a tribute of tears every time I think of him, was\nfully convinced of my merit; he was fond of me, and spoke of me\nin all companies as the first man in the world. Out of gratitude\nand friendship for him, I am willing to attach myself to you, to\ntake you under my protection, and guard you from all the evils\nthat your stars may threaten.\"\n\nWhen I heard all this jargon, I could not forbear laughing,\nnotwithstanding my anger. \"You impertinent prattler!\" said I,\n\"will you have done, and begin to shave me?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the barber, \"you affront me in calling me a\nprattler; on the contrary, all the world gives me the honourable\ntitle of Silent. I had six brothers, whom you might justly have\ncalled prattlers. These indeed were impertinent chatterers, but\nfor me, who am a younger brother, I am grave and concise in my\ndiscourse.\"\n\nFor God's sake, gentlemen, do but suppose you had been in my\nplace. What could I say when I saw myself so cruelly delayed?\n\"Give him three pieces of gold,\" said I to the slave who was my\nhousekeeper, \"and send him away, that he may disturb me no more;\nI will not be shaved this day.\" \"Sir,\" said the barber, \"pray\nwhat do you mean? I did not come to seek for you, you sent for\nme; and as that is the case I swear by the faith of a Moosulmaun,\nI will not stir out of these doors till I have shaved you. If you\ndo not know my value, it is not my fault. Your deceased father\ndid me more justice. Every time he sent for me to let him blood,\nhe made me sit down by him, and was charmed with hearing what\nwitty things I said. I kept him in a continual strain of\nadmiration; I elevated him; and when I had finished my discourse,\n'My God,' he would exclaim, 'you are an inexhaustible source of\nscience, no man can reach the depth of your knowledge.' 'My dear\nsir,' I would answer, 'you do me more honour than deserve. If I\nsay anything that is worth hearing, it is owing to the favourable\naudience you vouchsafe me; it is your liberality that inspires me\nwith the sublime thoughts which have the happiness to please\nyou.' One day, when he was charmed with an admirable discourse I\nhad made him, he said, 'Give him a hundred pieces of gold, and\ninvest him with one of my richest robes.' I instantly received\nthe present. I then drew his horoscope, and found it the happiest\nin the world. Nay I carried my gratitude further; I let him\nblood with cupping-glasses.\"\n\nThis was not all; he spun out another harangue that was a full\nhalf hour long. Tired with hearing him, and fretted at the loss\nof time, which was almost spent before I was half ready, I did\nnot know what to say. \"It is impossible,\" I exclaimed, \"there\nshould be such another man in the world who takes pleasure, as\nyou do, in making people mad.\"\n\nI thought I might perhaps succeed better if I dealt mildly with\nmy barber. \"In the name of God,\" said I, \"leave off talking, and\nshave me directly: business of the last importance calls me, as I\nhave already told you.\" At these words he fell a laughing: \"It\nwould be fortunate,\" said he, \"if our minds were always in the\nsame state; if we were always wise and prudent. I am willing,\nhowever, to believe, that if you are angry with me, it is your\ndisorder that has caused the change in your temper, for which\nreason you stand in need of some instructions, and you cannot do\nbetter than follow the example of your father and grandfather.\nThey came and consulted me upon all occasions, and I can say,\nwithout vanity, that they always highly prized my advice. Pray\nobserve, sir, men never succeed in their undertakings without the\ncounsel of persons of understanding. A man cannot, says the\nproverb, be wise without receiving advice from the wise. I am\nentirely at service, and you have only to command me.\"\n\n\"What! cannot I prevail with you then,\" I demanded, interrupting\nhim, \"to leave off these long speeches, that tend to nothing but\nto distract my head, and detain me from my business? Shave me, I\nsay, or begone:\" with that I started up in anger, stamping my\nfoot against the ground.\n\nWhen he saw I was in earnest, he said, \"Sir, do not be angry, we\nare going to begin.\" He lathered my head, and began to shave me;\nbut had not given four strokes with his razor before he stopped,\nand addressed me, \"Sir, you are hasty, you should avoid these\ntransports that only come from the devil. I am entitled to some\nconsideration on account of my age, my knowledge, and my great\nvirtues.\"\n\n\"Go on and shave me,\" said I, interrupting him again, \"and talk\nno more.\" \"That is to say,\" replied he, \"you have some urgent\nbusiness to go about; I will lay you a wager I guess right.\" \"Why\nI told you two hours ago,\" I returned, \"you ought to have shaved\nme before.\" \"Moderate your passion,\" replied he; \"perhaps you\nhave not maturely weighed what you are going about; when things\nare done precipitately, they are generally repented of. I wish\nyou would tell me what mighty business this is you are so earnest\nupon. I would tell you my opinion of it; besides, you have time\nenough, since your appointment is not till noon, and it wants\nthree hours of that yet.\"  \"I do not mind that,\" said I; \"persons\nof honour and of their word are rather before their time than\nafter. But I forget that by reasoning with you, I give into the\nfaults of you prattling barbers; have done, have done; shave me.\"\n\nThe more haste I was in, the less speed he made. He laid down the\nrazor, and took up his astrolabe; then laid down his astrolabe,\nand took up his razor again.\n\nThe barber quitted his razor again, and took up his astrolabe a\nsecond time; and so left me half shaved, to go and see precisely\nwhat hour it was. Back he came, and exclaimed, \"Sir, I knew I was\nnot mistaken, it wants three hours of noon. I am sure of it, or\nelse all the rules of astronomy are false.\" \"Just heaven!\" cried\nI, \"my patience is exhausted, I can bear this no longer. You\ncursed barber, you barber of mischief, I can scarcely forbear\nfalling upon you and strangling you.\" \"Softly, sir,\" said he,\nvery calmly, without being moved by my anger: \"are you not afraid\nof a relapse? Be not in a passion, I am going to shave you this\nminute.\" In speaking these words, he clapped his astrolabe in his\ncase, took up his razor, and passing it over the strap which was\nfixed to his belt, fell to shaving me again; but all the while he\nwas thus employed, the dog could not forbear prattling. \"If you\nwould be pleased, sir,\" said he, \"to tell me what the business is\nyou are going about at noon, I could give you some advice that\nmight be of use to you.\" To satisfy the fellow, I told him I was\ngoing to meet some friends at an entertainment at noon, to make\nmerry with me on the recovery of my health.\n\nWhen the barber heard me talk of regaling; \"God bless you this\nday, as well as all other days!\" he cried: \"you put me in mind\nthat yesterday I invited four or five friends to come and eat\nwith me as this day; indeed I had forgotten the engagement, and\nhave made no preparation for them.\" \"Do not let that trouble\nyou,\" said I; \"though I dine abroad, my larder is always well\nfurnished. I make you a present of all that it contains; and\nbesides, I will order you as much wine as you have occasion for;\nI have excellent wine in my cellar; only you must hasten to\nfinish shaving me: and pray remember, as my father made you\npresents to encourage you to speak, I give you mine to induce you\nto be silent.\"\n\nHe was not satisfied with my promise, but exclaimed, \"God reward\nyou, sir, for your kindness: pray shew me these provisions now,\nthat I may see if there will be enough to entertain my friends. I\nwould have them satisfied with the good fare I make them.\" \"I\nhave,\" said I, \"a lamb, six capons, a dozen chickens, and enough\nto make four courses.\" I ordered a slave to bring all before him,\nwith four great pitchers of wine. \"It is very well,\" returned the\nbarber; \"but we shall want fruit, and sauce for the meat.\" These\nI ordered likewise; but then he left off shaving, to look over\nevery thing one after another; and this survey lasted almost half\nan hour. I raged and stormed like a madman; but it signified\nnothing, the wretch made no more haste. However, he took up his\nrazor again, and shaved me for some minutes; then stopping\nsuddenly, exclaimed, \"I could not have believed, sir, that you\nwould have been so liberal; I begin to perceive that your\ndeceased father lives again in you. Most certainly, I do not\ndeserve the favours with which you have loaded me; and I assure\nyou I shall have them in perpetual remembrance; for, sir, to let\nyou know, I have nothing but what I obtain from the generosity of\nsuch gentlemen as you: in which respect, I am like to Zantout,\nwho rubs the people in the baths; to Sali, who cries boiled peas\nin the streets; to Salout, who sells beans; to Akerscha, who\nsells greens; to Aboumecarez, who sprinkles the streets to lay\nthe dust; and to Cassem, the caliph's lifeguard man. Of all these\npersons, not one is apt so be melancholy; they are neither\nimpertinent nor quarrelsome; they are more contented with their\nlot, than the caliph in the midst of his court; they are always\ngay, ready to sing and dance, and have each of them their\npeculiar song and dance, with which they divert the city of\nBagdad; but what I esteem most in them is, that they are no great\ntalkers, any more than your slave, that has bow the honour to\nspeak to you. Here, sir, is the song and dance of Zantout, who\nrubs the people in the baths; mind me, pray, and see if I do not\nimitate it exactly.\"\n\nThe barber sung the song, and danced the dance of Zantout; and\nlet me say what I could to oblige him to finish his buffooneries,\nhe did not cease till he had imitated, in like manner, the songs\nand dances of the other persons he had named. \"After that,\"\naddressing himself to me, \"I am going,\" said he, \"to invite all\nthese honest men to my house; if you will take my advice you will\njoin us, and disappoint your friends, who perhaps are great\ntalkers. They will only teaze you to death with their impertinent\ndiscourse, and make you relapse into a disorder worse than that\nfrom which you are so lately recovered; whereas at my house you\nshall have nothing but pleasure.\"\n\nNotwithstanding my anger, I could not forbear laughing at the\nfellow's impertinence. \"I wish I had no business upon my hands,\"\nI replied, \"I would accept your invitation, and go with all my\nheart to partake of your entertainment; but I beg to be excused,\nI am too much engaged; another day I shall be more at leisure,\nand then we will make up the same party. Come, finish shaving me,\nand make haste home; perhaps your friends are already arrived at\nyour house.\" \"Sir,\" replied he, \"do not refuse me the favour I\nask of you; were you but once in our company, it would afford you\nso much pleasure as abundantly to compensate you for forsaking\nyour friends.\" \"Let us talk no more of that,\" said I; \"I cannot\nbe your guest.\"\n\nI found I gained no ground by mild terms. \"Since you will not\ncome to my house,\" replied the barber, \"you must allow me to go\nalong with you: I will carry these things to my house, where my\nfriends may eat of them if they like, and I will return\nimmediately; I would not be so uncivil as to leave you alone. You\ndeserve this piece of complaisance at my hands.\" \"Heavens!\" cried\nI, \"then I shall not get clear of this troublesome fellow to-day.\nIn the name of the living God, leave off your unreasonable\njargon; go to your friends, drink, eat, and be merry with them,\nand leave me at liberty to go to mine. I must go alone, I have no\noccasion for company; besides, I must needs tell you, the place\nto which I go is not one where you can be received.\" \"You jest,\nsir,\" said he; \"if your friends have invited you to a feast, what\nshould prevent you from allowing me to go with you? You will\nplease them, I am sure, by introducing to them a man who can talk\nwittily like me, and knows how to divert company. But say what\nyou will, I am determined to accompany you.\"\n\nThese words, gentlemen, perplexed me much. \"How,\" thought I,\n\"shall I get rid of this cursed barber? If I persist in\ncontradicting him, we shall never have done.\"\n\nBesides, I heard at this instant the first call to noon-prayers,\nand it was time for me to go. In fine, I resolved to say nothing,\nand to make as if I consented to his accompanying me. He then\nfinished shaving me, and I said to him, \"Take some of my servants\nto carry these provisions along with you, and return hither; I\nwill stay for you, and shall not go without you.\"\n\nAt last he went, and I dressed myself as expeditiously as I\ncould. I heard the last call to prayers, and hastened to set out:\nbut the malicious barber, who guessed my intention, went with my\nservants only within sight of the house and stood there till he\nsaw them enter it, after which he concealed himself at the corner\nof the street, with an intent to observe and follow me. In fine,\nwhen I arrived at the cauzee's door, I looked back and saw him at\nthe head of the street which alarmed me to the last degree.\n\nThe cauzee's door was half open, and as I went in I saw an old\nwoman waiting for me, who, after she had shut the door, conducted\nme to the chamber of the young lady who was the object of my\nlove; but we had scarcely begun to converse, when we heard a\nnoise in the streets. The young lady put her head to the window,\nand saw through the gate that it was her father already returning\nfrom prayers. At the same time I looked, and saw the barber\nsitting over-against the house, on the bench from which I had\nfirst seen the young lady.\n\nI had then two things to fear, the arrival of the cauzee, and the\npresence of the barber. The young lady mitigated my apprehension\non the first head, by assuring me the cauzee, came but seldom to\nher chamber, and as she had forseen that this misadventure might\nhappen, she had contrived a way to convey me out safely: but the\nindiscretion of the accursed barber made me very uneasy; and you\nshall hear that my uneasiness was not without ground.\n\nAs soon as the cauzee was come in, he caned one of his slaves,\nwho had deserved chastisement. This slave made a horrid noise,\nwhich was heard in the streets; the barber thought it was I who\ncried out, and was maltreated. Prepossessed with this thought, he\nroared out aloud, rent his clothes, threw dust upon his head, and\ncalled the neighbourhood to his assistance. The neighbours\ncollected, and asked what assistance he wanted? \"Alas!\" cried he,\n\"they are assassinating my master, my dear patron;\" and without\nsaying anything more, he ran all the way to my house, with the\nvery same cry in his mouth. From thence he returned, followed by\nall my domestics armed with sticks. They knocked with\ninconceivable fury at the door, and the cauzee sent slave to see\nwhat was the matter; but the slave being frightened, returned to\nhis master, crying, \"Sir, above ten thousand men are going to\nbreak into your house by force.\"\n\nImmediately the cauzee himself ran, opened the door, and asked\nwhat they wanted. His venerable presence could not inspire them\nwith respect. They insolently said to him, \"You cursed cauzee,\nwhat reason have you to assassinate our master? What has he done\nto you?\" \"Good people,\" replied the magistrate, \"for what should\nI assassinate your master, whom I do not know and who has done me\nno harm? my house is open to you, come and search.\" \"You\nbastinadoed him,\" said the barber; \"I heard his cries not a\nminute ago.\" \"What harm could your master do to me,\" replied the\ncauzee, \"to oblige me to abuse him at that rate? Is he in my\nhouse? If he is, how came he in, or who could have introduced\nhim?\"  \"Ah! wretched cauzee,\" cried the barber, \"you and your long\nbeard shall never make me believe you; I know your daughter is in\nlove with our master, and appointed him a meeting during the time\nof noon-prayer, you without doubt have had notice of it, returned\nhome, and surprised him, and made your slaves bastinado him: but\nthis your wicked action shall not pass with impunity; the caliph\nshall be acquainted with it, and he will give true and brief\njustice. Let him come out, deliver him to us immediately; or if\nyou do not, we will go in and take him out to your shame.\" \"There\nis no occasion for so many words,\" replied the cauzee, \"nor to\nmake so great a noise: if what you say is true, go and find him\nout, I give you free liberty.\" Thereupon the barber and my\ndomestics rushed into the house like furies, and looked for me\nall about.\n\nAs I heard all that the barber said to the cauzee, I sought for a\nplace to conceal myself, and could find nothing but a large empty\ntrunk, in which I lay down, and shut it upon me. The barber,\nafter he had searched everywhere, came into the chamber where I\nwas, and opened the trunk. As soon as he saw me, he took it upon\nhis head and carried it away. He descended a high staircase into\na court, which he crossed hastily, and at length reached the\nstreet door. While he was carrying me, the trunk unfortunately\nflew open, and not being able to endure the shame of being\nexposed to the view and shouts of the mob who followed us, I\nleaped out into the street with so much haste, that I have been\nlame ever since. I was not sensible of the hurt at first, and\ntherefore got up quickly to avoid the people, who laughed at me;\nnay, I threw handfuls of gold and silver among them, and whilst\nthey were gathering it up, I made my escape by cross streets and\nalleys. But the cursed barber followed me close, crying, \"Stay,\nsir; why do you run so fast? If you knew how much I am afflicted\nat the ill treatment you received from the cauzee, you, who are\nso generous, and to whom I and my friends are so much obliged!\nDid I not tell you truly, that you would expose your life by your\nobstinate refusal to let me go with you? See what has happened to\nyou, by your own fault; and if I had not resolutely followed, to\nsee whither you went, what would have become of you? Whither do\nyou go, sir? Stay for me.\"\n\nThus the barber cried aloud in the street it was not enough for\nhim to have occasioned so great a scandal in the quarter where\nthe cauzee lived, but he would have it known through the whole\ntown. I was in such a rage, that I had a great mind to stop and\ncut his throat; but considering this would have perplexed me\nfarther, I chose another course. Perceiving that his calling\nafter me exposed me to vast numbers of people, who crowded to the\ndoors or windows, or stopped in the street to gaze at me, I\nentered an inn, the chamberlain of which knew me, and finding him\nat the gate, whither the noise had brought him, I prayed him, for\nthe sake of heaven, to hinder that madman from coming in after\nme. He promised to do so, and was as good as his word, but not\nwithout a great deal of trouble; for the obstinate barber would\nenter in spite of him, and did not retire without calling him a\nthousand names. After the chamberlain had shut the gate, the\nbarber continued telling all he met what great service he had\ndone me. Thus I rid myself of that troublesome fellow. After\nthis, the chamberlain prayed me to tell him my adventure, which I\ndid, and then desired him to let me have an apartment until I was\ncured. \"But sir,\" said he, \"will it not be more convenient for\nyou to go home?\" \"I will not return thither,\" replied I: \"for the\ndetestable barber will continue plaguing me there, and I shall\ndie of vexation to be continually teazed by him. Besides, after\nwhat has befallen me to-day, I cannot think of staying any longer\nin this town; I must go whither my ill-fortune leads me.\"\nAccordingly, when I was cured, I took all the money I thought\nnecessary for my travels, and divided the rest of my property\namong my kindred.\n\nThus, gentlemen, I left Bagdad, and came hither. I had ground to\nhope that I should not meet this pernicious barber in a country\nso far from my own, and yet I find him amongst you. Be not\nsurprised then at my haste to be gone: you may easily judge how\nunpleasant to me is the sight of a man who was the occasion of my\nlameness, and of my being reduced to the melancholy necessity of\nliving so far from my kindred, friends, and country.\n\nWhen he had spoken these words, the lame young man rose up and\nwent out; the master of the house conducted him to the gate, and\ntold him, he was sorry that he had given him, though innocently,\nso great a subject of mortification.\n\nWhen the young man was gone, continued the tailor, we were all\nastonished at the story, and turning to the barber, told him he\nwas very much to-blame, if what we had just heard was true.\n\"Gentlemen,\" answered he, raising up his head, which till then he\nhad held down, \"my silence during the young man's discourse is\nsufficient to testify that he advanced nothing that was not true:\nbut for all that he has said to you, I maintain that I ought to\nhave done what I did; I leave you to be judges. Did not he throw\nhimself into danger, and could he have come off so well without\nmy assistance? He may think himself happy to have escaped with\nthe lame leg Did not I expose myself to greater danger to get him\nout of a house where I thought he was ill-treated? Has he any\nreason to complain of and abuse me? This is what one gets by\nserving unthankful people. He accuses me of being a prattling\nfellow, which is a mere slander: of seven brothers, I speak\nleast, and have most wit to my share; and to convince you of\nthis, gentlemen, I need only relate my own story and theirs.\nHonour me, I beseech you, with your attention.\"\n\n\n\n\n                    The Story of the Barber.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Mustunsir Billah, that is, seeking\nvictory of God, a prince so famous for his liberality towards the\npoor, ten highwaymen infested the roads about Bagdad, and for a\nlong time committed unheard-of robberies and cruelties. The\ncaliph, having notice of this, sent for the judge of the police,\nsome days before the feast of Bairam, and ordered him, on pain of\ndeath, to bring all the ten to him.\n\nThe judge of the police used so much diligence, and sent so many\npeople in pursuit of the ten robbers, that they were taken on the\nvery day of Bairam. I was walking at the time on the banks of the\nTigris, and saw ten men richly appareled go into a boat. Had I\nbut observed the guards who had them in custody, I might have\nconcluded they were robbers; but my attention was fixed on the\nmen themselves, and thinking they were people who designed to\nspend the festival in jollity, I entered the boat with them,\nhoping they would not object to my making one of the company. We\ndescended the Tigris, and landed before the caliph's palace: I\nhad by this time had leisure to reflect, and to discover my\nmistake. When we quitted the boat, we were surrounded by a new\ntroop of the judge of the police's guard, who bound us all, and\ncarried us before the caliph. I suffered myself to be bound as\nwell as the rest, without speaking one word: for what would it\nhave availed to have spoken, or made any resistance? That had\nbeen the way to have got myself ill-treated by the guards, who\nwould not have listened to me, for they are brutish fellows, who\nwill hear no reason: I was with the robbers, and that was enough\nto make them believe me to be one of their number.\n\nWhen we had been brought before the caliph, he ordered the ten\nhighwaymen's heads to be cut off immediately. The executioner\ndrew us up in a file within reach of his arm, and by good fortune\nI was placed last. He cut off the heads of the ten highwaymen,\nbeginning at the first; and when he came to me, he stopped. The\ncaliph perceiving that he did not strike me, grew angry: \"Did not\nI command thee,\" said he, \"to cut off the heads of ten\nhighwaymen, and why hast thou cut off but nine?\" \"Commander of\nthe faithful,\" he replied, \"Heaven preserve me from disobeying\nyour majesty's orders: here are ten bodies upon the ground, and\nas many heads which I have cut off; your majesty may count them.\"\nWhen the caliph saw that what the executioner said was true, he\nlooked at me with amazement, and perceiving that I had not the\nface of a highwayman, said to me, \"Good old man, how came you to\nbe among those wretches, who have deserved a thousand deaths?\" I\nanswered, \"Commander of the faithful, I will make a true\nconfession. This morning I saw those ten persons, whose\npunishment is a proof of your majesty's justice, take boat: I\nembarked with them, thinking they were men going to celebrate\nthis day, which is the most distinguished in our religion.\" The\ncaliph could not forbear laughing at my adventure; and instead of\ntreating me as a prattling fellow, as this lame young man did, he\nadmired my discretion and taciturnity. \"Commander of the\nfaithful,\" I resumed, \"your majesty need not wonder at my silence\non such an occasion, as would have made another apt to speak. I\nmake a particular profession of holding my peace, and on that\naccount have acquired the glorious title of Silent; by which I am\ndistinguished from my six brothers. This is the effect of my\nphilosophy; and, in a word, in this virtue consists my glory and\nhappiness.\" \"I am glad,\" said the caliph, smiling, \"that they\ngave you a title which you know so well how to use. But tell me\nwhat sort of men were your brothers, were they like you?\" \"By no\nmeans,\" I replied; \"they were all of them loquacious, prating\nfellows. And as to their persons, there was still a greater\ndifference betwixt them and me. The first was hump-backed; the\nsecond had rotten teeth; the third had but one eye; the fourth\nwas blind; the fifth had his ears cut off; and the sixth had\nhare-lips. They had met with such adventures as would enable you\nto judge of their characters, had I the honour of relating them\nto your majesty:\" and the caliph seemed desirous to hear their\nseveral stories, I went on without waiting his commands.\n\n\n\n\n             The Story of the Barber's Eldest Brother.\n\n\n\nMy eldest brother, whose name was Bacbouc the hump-back, was a\ntailor: when he came out of his apprenticeship, he hired a shop\nopposite a mill, and having but very little business, could\nscarcely maintain himself. The miller, on the contrary, was very\nwealthy, and had a handsome wife. One day as my brother was at\nwork in his shop, he saw the miller's wife looking out of the\nwindow, and was charmed with her beauty. The woman took no notice\nof him, but shut her window, and made her appearance no more that\nday The poor tailor did nothing all day long but lift up his eyes\ntowards the mill. He pricked his finger oftener than once, and\nhis work was not very regular. At night, when he was to shut his\nshop, he could scarcely tell how to do it, because he still hoped\nthe miller's wife would once more come to the window; but at last\nhe was forced to shut up, and go home, where he passed but a very\nuncomfortable night. He arose betimes in the morning, and ran to\nhis shop, in hopes to see his mistress; but he was no happier\nthan the day before, for the miller's wife did not appear at the\nwindow above a minute in the course of the day, but that minute\nmade the tailor the most amorous man that ever lived. The third\nday he had more ground of satisfaction, for the miller's wife\ncast her eyes upon him by chance, and surprised him as he was\ngazing at her, which convinced her of what passed in his mind.\n\nNo sooner did the miller's wife perceive my brother's\ninclination, than, instead of allowing it to excite her\nresentment, she resolved to divert herself with it. She looked at\nhim with a smiling countenance, and my brother returned her\nsmile, but in so ludicrous a way, that the miller's wife hastily\nshut her window, lest her loud laughter should make him sensible\nthat she only ridiculed him. Poor Bacbouc interpreted her\ncarriage to his own advantage, and flattered himself that she\nlooked upon him with pleasure.\n\nThe miller's wife resolved to have sport with my brother: she had\na piece of very fine stuff, with which she had a long time\ndesigned to make a vest; she wrapped it up in a fine embroidered\nsilk handkerchief, and sent it to him by a young slave whom she\nkept; who being taught her lesson, went to the tailor's shop, and\ntold him, \"My mistress gives you her service, and prays you to\nmake her a vest of this stuff according to this pattern; she\nchanges her dress often, so that her custom will be profitable to\nyou.\" My brother doubted not but the miller's wife loved him, and\nthought she had sent him work so soon after what had passed\nbetwixt them, only to signify that she knew his mind, and\nconvince him that he had obtained her favour. He charged the\nslave to tell her mistress, that he would lay aside all work for\nhers and that the vest should be ready next morning. He worked at\nit with so much diligence, that he finished it in the course of\nthe same day. Next morning the young slave came to see if the\nvest was ready. Bacbouc delivered it to her neatly folded up,\ntelling her, \"I am too much concerned to please your mistress to\nneglect her work; I would engage her by my diligence to employ no\nother than myself for the time to come.\" The young slave went\nsome steps as if she had intended to go away, and then coming\nback, whispered to my brother, \"I had forgotten part of my\ncommission; my mistress charged me to make her compliments to\nyou, and to ask how you passed the night; as for her, poor woman,\nshe loves you to that degree that she could not sleep.\" \"Tell\nher,\" answered my silly brother, \"I have so strong a passion for\nher, that for these four nights I have not slept one wink.\" After\nsuch a compliment from the miller's wife, my brother thought she\nwould not let him languish long in expectation of her favours.\n\nAbout a quarter of an hour after, the slave returned to my\nbrother with a piece of satin: \"My mistress,\" said she, \"is very\nwell pleased with her vest, nothing in the world can fit her\nbetter, and as it is very handsome, she will not wear it without\na new pair of drawers; she prays you to make her one, as soon as\nyou can, of this piece of satin.\" \"Enough,\" said Bacbouc, \"I will\ndo it before I leave my shop: you shall have it in the evening.\"\nThe miller's wife shewed herself often at her window, and was\nvery prodigal of her charms, to encourage my brother. You would\nhave laughed to see him work. The pair of drawers was soon made,\nand the slave came for it, but brought the tailor no money,\nneither for the trimming he had bought for the vest, nor for the\nmaking. In the mean time, this unfortunate lover, whom they only\namused, though he could not see it, had eaten nothing all that\nday, and was forced to borrow money at night to buy his supper.\nNext morning, as soon as he arrived at his shop, the young slave\ncame to tell him that the miller wanted to speak to him. \"My\nmistress,\" said she, \"spoke to him so much in your praise, when\nshe shewed him your work, that he has a mind you should work for\nhim also; she does this on purpose, that the connection she\nwishes to form betwixt you and him may crown your mutual wishes\nwith success.\" My brother was easily persuaded, and went to the\nmill with the slave. The miller received him very kindly, and\nshewed him a piece of cloth, and told him he wanted shirts, bade\nhim make it into twenty, and return him again what was left.\n\nMy brother had work enough for five or six days to make twenty\nshirts for the miller, who afterwards gave him another piece of\ncloth to make him as many pair of drawers. When they were\nfinished, Bacbouc carried them to the miller, who asked him what\nhe must have for his pains. My brother answered, he would be\ncontent with twenty dirhems of silver. The miller immediately\ncalled the young slave, and bade her bring him his weights to see\nif his money was right. The slave, who had her lesson, looked at\nmy brother with an angry countenance, to signify to him, that he\nwould spoil all if he took money. He knew her meaning, and\nrefused to take any, though he wanted it so much that he was\nforced to borrow some to buy the thread to sew the shirts and\ndrawers. When he left the miller, he came to me to borrow money\nto purchase provisions, and told me they did not pay him. I gave\nhim some copper money I had in my purse, and upon that he\nsubsisted for some days. It is true, indeed, he lived upon\nnothing but broth, nor had he his fill of that.\n\nOne day he went to the miller, who was busy at his work, and\nthinking my brother came for money, offered him some; but the\nyoung slave being present, made him another sign not to take it,\nwhich he complied with, and told the miller he did not come for\nhis money, but only to know how he did. The miller thanked him,\nand gave him an upper garment to make. Bacbouc carried it to him\nthe next day. When the miller drew out his purse, the young slave\ngave my brother the usual sign, on which he said to the miller,\n\"Neighbour, there is no haste, we will reckon another time;\"  so\nthat the poor ninny went to his shop again, with three terrible\ndistempers, love, hunger, and an empty purse. The miller's wife\nwas not only avaricious, but ill-natured; for, not content with\ncheating my brother of his due, she provoked her husband to\nrevenge himself upon him for making love to her, which they\naccomplished thus. The miller invited Bacbouc one night to\nsupper, and after giving him a very sorry treat, said to him,\n\"Brother, it is too late for you to return home, you had better\nstay here all night,\" and then took him to a place in the mill,\nwhere there was a bed; there he left him, and went to bed with\nhis wife. About the middle of the night, the miller came to my\nbrother, and said, \"Neighbour, are you asleep? My mule is ill,\nand I have a quantity of corn to grind; you will do me a great\nkindness if you will turn the mill in her stead.\" Bacbouc, to\nshew his good nature, told him, he was ready to do him that\nservice, if he would shew him how. The miller tied him by the\nmiddle in the mule's place, and whipping him soundly over the\nback, said to him, \"Go on, neighbour.\" \"Ho!\" exclaimed my\nbrother, \"why do you beat me?\" \"It is to make you brisk,\" replied\nthe miller, \"for without a whip my mule will not go.\" Bacbouc was\namazed at this treatment, but durst not complain. When he had\ngone five or six rounds, he would fain have rested; but the\nmiller gave him a dozen sound lashes, saying, \"Courage,\nneighbour! do not stop, pray; you must go on without taking\nbreath, otherwise you will spoil my meal.\"\n\nThe miller obliged my brother to turn the mill thus all night.\nAbout break of day he left him without untying him, and went to\nhis wife's chamber. Bacbouc continued there for some time, and at\nlast the young slave came and untied him. \"Ah!\" said the\ntreacherous wretch, \"how my mistress and I pitied you! We had no\nhand in this wicked trick which her husband has played you.\" The\nwretched Bacbouc answered not a word, he was so much fatigued\nwith work and blows; but crept home to his house, resolving never\nto think more of the miller's wife.\n\nThe telling of this story, continued the barber, made the caliph\nlaugh. \"Go home,\" said he to me, \"I have ordered something to be\ngiven you to make up for the loss of the good dinner you\nexpected.\" \"Commander of the faithful,\" I replied, \"I pray your\nmajesty to let me stay till I have told the story of my other\nbrothers.\" The caliph having signified by his silence that he was\nwilling to hear me, I went on thus.\n\n\n\n\n             The Story of the Barber's Second Brother.\n\n\n\nMy second brother, who was called Backbarah the Toothless, going\none day through the city, met in a distant street an old woman,\nwho came up to him, and said, \"I want one word with you, pray\nstop a moment.\" He did so, and asked what she would have. \"If you\nhave time to come with me,\" said she, \"I will bring you into a\nstately palace, where you shall see a lady as fair as the day.\nShe will receive you with much pleasure, and treat you with\nexcellent wine. I need say no more.\" \"But is what you say true?\"\ndemanded my brother. \"I am no lying hussy,\" replied the old\nwoman. \"I say nothing to you but what is true. But hark, I have\nsomething to ask of you. You must be prudent, say but little, and\nbe extremely polite.\" Backbarah agreed to all this. The old woman\nwent on, and he followed her. They came to the gate of a great\npalace, where there was a number of officers and domestics. Some\nof them would have stopped my brother, but no sooner did the old\nwoman speak to them than they let him pass. Then turning to my\nbrother, she said to him, \"You must remember that the young lady\nI bring you to loves good-nature and modesty, and cannot endure\nto be contradicted; if you please her in these respects, you may\nbe sure to obtain of her what you please.\" Backbarah thanked her\nfor this advice, and promised to follow it.\n\nShe brought him into a superb court, answerable to the\nmagnificence of the palace. There was a gallery round it, and a\ngarden in the middle. The old woman made him sit down on a\nhandsome sofa, and bade him stay a moment, till she went to\nacquaint the young lady with his arrival.\n\nMy brother, who had never been in such a stately palace before,\ngazed on the fine things that he saw; and judging of his good\nfortune by the magnificence of the palace, he was scarcely able\nto contain himself for joy. In a short time he heard a great\nnoise, occasioned by a troop of merry slaves, who came towards\nhim with loud fits of laughter; and in the middle of them he\nperceived a young lady of extraordinary beauty, who was easily\nknown to be their mistress by the respect they paid her.\nBackbarah, who expected private conversation with the lady, was\nextremely surprised when he saw so much company with her. In the\nmean time, the slaves, as they drew near, put on a grave\ncountenance; and when the young lady came up to the sofa, my\nbrother rose and made her a low obeisance. She took the upper\nseat, prayed him to sit down, and said to him with a smiling\ncountenance, \"I am much pleased to see you, and wish you all the\nhappiness you can desire.\" \"Madam,\" replied Backbarah, \"I cannot\ndesire a greater happiness than to be in your company.\" \"You seem\nto be of a pleasant humour,\" said she, \"and to be disposed to\npass the time agreeably.\"\n\nShe commanded a collation to be brought; and immediately a table\nwas covered with several baskets of fruit and sweetmeats. The\nlady sat down at the table with the slaves and my brother; and he\nbeing placed just opposite to her, when he opened his mouth to\neat, she perceived he had no teeth; and taking notice of this to\nher slaves, she and they laughed heartily. Backbarah, from time\nto time, lifted up his head to look at her, and perceiving her\nlaugh, concluded it was from the pleasure she derived from his\ncompany, and flattered himself that she would speedily send away\nher slaves, and remain with him alone. She guessed his thoughts,\nand amusing herself to flatter him in this mistake, addressed him\nin the most pleasant language, and presented him the best of\nevery thing with her own hand. The entertainment being finished,\nthey rose from the table; ten slaves took musical instruments,\nand began to play and sing, and others to dance. My brother, to\nplease them, danced likewise, and the lady danced with them.\nAfter they had danced some time, they sat down to take breath,\nand the young lady calling for a glass of wine, looked upon my\nbrother with a smiling countenance, to signify that she was going\nto drink his health. He rose and stood while she drank. When she\nhad done instead of giving back the glass, she ordered it to be\nfilled, and presented it to my brother, that he might pledge her.\n\nMy brother took the glass from the young lady's hand, which he\nkissed at the same time and stood and drank to her, in return for\nthe favour she had done him. The lady then made him sit down by\nher, and began to caress him. She put her hand behind his head,\nand gave him some tips from time to time with her fingers:\nravished with these favours, he thought himself the happiest man\nin the world, and felt disposed to kiss the charming lady, but\ndurst not take that liberty before so many slaves, who had their\neyes upon him, and laughed at their lady's wanton tricks. The\nyoung lady continued to tip him with her fingers, but at last\ngave him such a sound box on the ear, that he grew angry; the\ncolour came into his face, and he rose up to remove to a greater\ndistance from such a rude playfellow. Then the old woman, who\nbrought him thither, gave him a look, to let him know that he was\nin the wrong, and that he had forgotten her advice, to be very\ncomplaisant. He owned his fault, and to make amends, went near\nthe young lady again, pretending that he did not remove out of\nany ill-humour. She drew him by the arm, made him sit down by\nher, and gave him a thousand malicious squeezes. Her slaves took\ntheir part in the diversion; one gave poor Backbarah several\nfillips on the nose with all her might; another pulled him by the\nears, as if she would have pulled them off; and others boxed him\nin a manner that might have made it appear they were not in jest.\nMy brother bore all this with admirable patience, affecting a gay\nair, and looking at the old woman, said to her with a forced\nsmile, \"You told me, indeed, that I should find the lady\nperfectly kind, pleasant, and charming; I am mightily obliged to\nyou!\" \"All this is nothing,\" replied the old woman; \"let her go\non, you will see other things by and by.\" Then the young lady\nsaid to him, \"Brother, you are a brave man; I am glad to find you\nare so good-humoured and complaisant to bear with my little\ncaprices, and that your humour is so conformable to mine.\"\n\"Madam,\" replied Backbarah, who was charmed with this address, \"I\nam no more at my own disposal, I am wholly yours, you may do with\nme as you please.\" \"How you oblige me,\" returned the lady, \"by\nsuch submission! I am well pleased with you, and would have you\nbe so with me: bring him perfume, and rose-water.\" Upon this, two\nslaves went out and returned speedily, one with a silver casket,\nfilled with the best of aloes wood, with which she perfumed him;\nand the other with rose-water, which she sprinkled on his face\nand hands. My brother was quite enraptured with this handsome\ntreatment. After this ceremony, the young lady commanded the\nslaves, who had already played on their instruments and sung, to\nrenew their concerts. They obeyed, and while they were thus\nemployed, the lady called another slave, and ordered her to take\nmy brother with her, and do what she knew, and bring him back to\nher again. Backbarah, who heard this order, got up quickly, and\ngoing to the old woman, who also rose to accompany him and the\nslave, prayed her to inform him what they were to do with him.\n\"My mistress is only curious,\" replied the old woman softly; \"she\nhas a mind to see how you look in a woman's dress, and this\nslave, who is desired to take you with her, has orders to paint\nyour eyebrows, to cut off your whiskers, and to dress you like a\nwoman.\" \"You may paint my eyebrows as much as you please,\" said\nmy brother, \"I consent to that, because I can wash it off again;\nbut to shave me, you know I must not permit. How can I appear\nabroad again without moustaches?\" \"Beware of refusing what is\nasked of you,\" returned the old woman, \"you will spoil your\nfortune, which is now in as favourable a train as heart can wish.\nThe lady loves you, and has a mind to make you happy; and will\nyou, for a nasty whisker, renounce the most delicious favours\nthat man can obtain?\" Backbarah listened to the old woman, and\nwithout saying a word went to a chamber with the slave, where\nthey painted his eyebrows with red, cut off his whiskers, and\nwere going to do the like with his beard. My brother's patience\nthen began to fail: \"Oh!\" said he, \"I will never part with my\nbeard.\" The slave told him, that it was to no purpose to have\nparted with his whiskers, if he would not also part with his\nbeard, which could never comport with \"woman's dress;\" and she\nwondered that a man, who was upon the point of being loved by the\nfinest lady in Bagdad, should be concerned about his beard. The\nold woman threatened him with the loss of the young lady's\nfavour; so that at last he allowed them to do what they would.\nWhen he was dressed in female attire, they brought him before the\nyoung lady, who laughed so heartily when she saw him, that she\nfell backward on the sofa. The slaves laughed and clapped their\nhands, so that my brother was quite out of countenance. The young\nlady got up, and still laughing, said to him, \"After so much\ncomplaisance, I should be very much to blame not to love you with\nall my heart: but there is one thing more you must do for me, and\nthat is, to dance as we do.\" He obeyed, and the young lady and\nher slaves danced with him, laughing as if they had been mad.\nAfter they had danced some time, they all fell upon the poor\nwretch, and did so box and kick him, that he fell down like one\nout of his senses. The old woman helped him up again: and that he\nmight not have time to think of his ill-treatment, bade him take\ncourage, and whispered in his ear, that all his sufferings were\nat an end, and that he was just about to receive his reward.\n\nThe old woman continued her discourse to Backbarah thus: \"You\nhave only one thing more to do, and that is but a small one. You\nmust know that my mistress has a custom, when she has drunk a\nlittle, as you see she has done to-day, to let no one that she\nloves come near her, except they be stripped to their shirt; and\nwhen they have done so, she takes a little advantage of them and\nbegins running before them through the gallery, and from chamber\nto chamber, till they catch her. This is one more of her humours:\nwhat advantage soever she takes of you, considering your\nnimbleness, you will soon overtake her; strip yourself then to\nyour shirt, undress yourself without ceremony.\"\n\nMy silly brother had done too much to hesitate at anything now.\nHe undressed himself; and in the mean time the young lady was\nstripped to her shift and drawers, that she might run the more\nnimbly. When they were ready, the young lady took the advantage\nof twenty paces, and then began to run with surprising swiftness:\nmy brother followed as fast as he could, the slaves in the mean\ntime laughing heartily and clapping their hands. The young lady,\ninstead of losing ground, gained upon my brother: she made him\nrun two or three times round the gallery, and then entering a\nlong dark passage, made her escape. Backbarah, who still\nfollowed, having lost sight of her in the passage, was obliged to\nslacken his pace, because of the darkness of the place: at last\nperceiving a light, he ran towards it, and went out at a door,\nwhich was immediately shut after him. You may imagine how he was\nsurprised to find himself in a street inhabited by curriers, and\nthey were no less surprised to see him in his shirt, his eyes\npainted red, and without beard or moustaches: they began to clap\ntheir hands and shout at him, and some of them ran after him and\nlashed his back with leather straps. They then took him and set\nhim upon an ass which they met by chance, and carried him through\nthe town exposed to the laughter of the people.\n\nTo complete his misfortune, as he went by the judge's house, he\nwould needs know the cause of the tumult. The curriers told him,\nthat they saw him come in that condition from the gate of the\napartments of the grand vizier's women, which opened into their\nstreet; upon which the judge ordered unfortunate Backbarah to\nhave a hundred blows with a cane on the soles of his feet, and\nsent him out of the town with orders never to return.\n\n\"Thus, commander of the faithful,\" said I to the caliph, \"I have\ngiven an account of the adventure of my second brother, who did\nnot know that our greatest ladies divert themselves sometimes by\nputting such tricks upon young people, who are so foolish as to\nbe caught in the snare.\"\n\nThe barber, without breaking off, told the story of his third\nbrother in the following manner.\n\n\n\n\n            The Story of the Barber's Third Brother.\n\n\n\nCommander of the faithful, my third brother, whose name was\nBackbac, was blind, and his evil destiny reduced him to beg from\ndoor to door. He had been so long accustomed to walk through the\nstreets alone, that he wanted none to lead him: he had a custom\nto knock at people's doors, and not to answer till they opened to\nhim. One day he knocked thus, and the master of the house, who\nwas alone, cried, \"Who is there?\" My brother made no answer, and\nknocked a second time: the master of the house asked again and\nagain, \"Who is there?\" but to no purpose, no one answered; upon\nwhich he came down, opened the door, and asked my brother what he\nwanted? \"Give me something for Heaven's sake,\" said Backbac. \"You\nseem to be blind,\" replied the master of the house. \"Yes, to my\nsorrow,\" answered my brother. \"Give me your hand,\" resumed the\nmaster of the house. My brother did so, thinking he was going to\ngive him alms; but he only took him by the hand to lead him up to\nhis chamber. Backbac thought he had been carrying him to dine\nwith him, as many other people had done. When they reached the\nchamber, the man let go his hand, and sitting down, asked him\nagain what he wanted? \"I have already told you,\" said Backbac,\n\"that I want something for God's sake.\" \"Good blind man,\" replied\nthe master of the house, \"all that I can do for you is to wish\nthat God may restore you your sight.\" \"You might have told me\nthat at the door,\" replied my brother, \"and not have given me the\ntrouble to come up stairs.\" \"And why, fool,\" said the man of the\nhouse, \"do not you answer at first, when people ask you who is\nthere? Why do you give any body the trouble to come and open the\ndoor when they speak to you?\" \"What will you do with me then?\"\nasked my brother. \"I tell you again,\" said the man of the house,\n\"I have nothing to give you.\" \"Help me down the stairs then, as\nyou brought me up.\" \"The stairs are before you,\" said the man of\nthe house, \"and you may go down by yourself if you will.\" My\nbrother attempted to descend, but missing a step about the middle\nof the stairs, fell to the bottom and hurt his head and his back:\nhe got up again with much difficulty, and went out cursing the\nmaster of the house who laughed at his fall.\n\nAs my brother went out of the house, two blind men, his\ncompanions, were going by, knew him by his voice, and asked him\nwhat was the matter? He told them what had happened; and\nafterwards said, \"I have eaten nothing to-day; I conjure you to\ngo along with me to my house, that I may take some of the money\nthat we three have in common to buy me something for supper.\" The\ntwo blind men agreed, and they went home with him.\n\nYou must know that the master of the house where my brother was\nso ill used was a robber, and of a cunning and malicious\ndisposition. He overheard from his window what Backbac had said\nto his companions, and came down and followed them to my\nbrother's house. The blind men being seated, Backbac said to\nthem, \"Brothers, we must shut the door, and take care there be no\nstranger with us.\" At this the robber was much perplexed, but\nperceiving a rope hanging down from a beam, he caught hold of it,\nand hung by it, while the blind men shut the door, and felt about\nthe room with their sticks. When they had done, and had sat down\nagain in their places, the robber left his rope, and seated\nhimself softly by my brother, who thinking himself alone with his\nblind comrades, said to them, \"Brothers, since you have trusted\nme with the money, which we have been a long time gathering, I\nwill show you that I am not unworthy of the confidence you repose\nin me. The last time we reckoned, you know we had ten thousand\ndirhems, and that we put them into ten bags; I will shew you that\nI have not touched one of them:\" having so said, he put his hand\namong some old clothes, and taking out the bags one after\nanother, gave them to his comrades, saying, \"There they are; you\nmay judge by their weight that they are whole, or you may tell\nthem if you please.\" His comrades answered there was no need,\nthey did not mistrust him; so he opened one of the bags, and took\nout ten dirhems, and each of the other blind men did the like.\n\nMy brother put the bags into their place again: after which, one\nof the blind men said to him, \"There is no need to lay out\nanything for supper, for I have collected as much victuals from\ngood people as will serve us all.\" At the same time he took out\nof his bag bread and cheese, and some fruit, and putting all upon\nthe table, they began to eat, The robber, who sat at my brother's\nright hand, picked out the best, and eat with them; but whatever\ncare he took to make no noise, Backbac heard his chaps going, and\ncried out immediately, \"We are undone, there is a stranger among\nus:\" having so said, he stretched out his hand, and caught hold\nof the robber by the arm, cried out \"Thieves!\" fell upon him, and\nstruck him. The other blind men fell upon him in like manner; the\nrobber defended himself as well as he could, and being young and\nvigorous, besides having the advantage of his eyes, gave furious\nblows, sometimes to one, sometimes to another, and cried out\n\"Thieves!\" louder than they did. The neighbours came running at\nthe noise, broke open the door, and had much ado to separate the\ncombatants; but having at last succeeded, they asked the cause of\ntheir quarrel. My brother, who still had hold of the robber,\ncried out, \"Gentlemen, this man I have hold of is a thief, and\nstole in with us on purpose to rob us of the little money we\nhave.\" The thief, who shut his eyes as soon as the neighbours\ncame, feigned himself blind, and exclaimed, \"Gentlemen, he is a\nliar. I swear to you by heaven, and by the life of the caliph,\nthat I am their companion, and they refuse to give me my just\nshare. They have all three fallen upon me, and I demand justice.\"\nThe neighbours would not interfere in their quarrel, but carried\nthem all before the judge.\n\nWhen they came before the magistrate, the robber, without staying\nto be examined, cried out, still feigning himself blind, \"Sir,\nsince you are deputed to administer justice by the caliph, whom\nGod prosper, I declare to you that we are equally criminal, my\nthree comrades and I; but we have all engaged, upon oath, to\nconfess nothing except we be bastinadoed; so that if you would\nknow our crime, you need only order us to be bastinadoed, and\nbegin with me.\" My brother would have spoken, but was not allowed\nto do so: and the robber was put under the bastinado.\n\nThe robber being under the bastinado, had the courage to bear\ntwenty or thirty blows; when, pretended to be overcome with pain,\nhe first opened one eve, and then the other, and crying out for\nmercy, begged the judge would put a stop to the blows. The judge\nperceiving that he looked upon him with his eyes open, was much\nsurprised, and said to him, \"Rogue, what is the meaning of this\nmiracle?\" \"Sir,\" replied the robber, \"I will discover to you an\nimportant secret, if you will pardon me, and give me, as a pledge\nthat you will keep your word, the seal-ring which you have on\nyour finger.\" The judge consented, gave him his ring, and\npromised him pardon. \"Under this promise,\" continued the robber,\n\"I must confess to you sir, that I and my three comrades do all\nof us see very well. We feigned ourselves to be blind, that we\nmight freely enter people's houses, and women's apartments, where\nwe abuse their weakness. I must farther confess to you, that by\nthis trick we have gained together ten thousand dirhems. This day\nI demanded of my partners two thousand five hundred that belonged\nto my share, but they refused because I told them I would leave\nthem; and they were afraid I should accuse them. Upon my pressing\nstill to have my share, they fell upon me; for which I appeal to\nthose people who brought us before you. I expect from your\njustice, sir, that you will make them deliver me the two thousand\nfive hundred dirhems which is my due; and if you have a mind that\nmy comrades should confess the truth, you must order them three\ntimes as many blows as I have had, and you will find they will\nopen their eyes as well as I have done.\"\n\nMy brother and the other two blind men would have cleared\nthemselves of this horrid charge, but the judge would not hear\nthem: \"Villains,\" said he, \"do you feign yourselves blind then,\nand, under that pretext of moving their compassion, cheat people,\nand commit such crimes?\" \"He is an impostor,\" cried my brother,\n\"and we take God to witness that none of us can see.\"\n\nAll that my brother could say was in vain, his comrades and he\nreceived each of them two hundred blows. The judge expected them\nto open their eyes, and ascribed to their obstinacy what really\nthey could not do. All the while the robber said to the blind\nmen, \"Poor fools that you are, open your eyes, and do not suffer\nyourselves to be beaten to death.\" Then addressing himself to the\njudge, said, \"I perceive, sir, that they will be maliciously\nobstinate to the last, and will never open their eyes. They wish\ncertainly to avoid the shame of reading their own condemnation in\nthe face of every one that looks upon them; it were better, if\nyou think fit, to pardon them, and to send some person along with\nme for the ten thousand dirhems they have hidden.\"\n\nThe judge consented to give the robber two thousand five hundred\ndirhems, and kept the rest himself; and as for my brother and his\ntwo companions, he thought he shewed them pity by sentencing them\nonly to be banished. As soon as I heard what had befallen my\nbrother, I went to him; he told me his misfortune, and I brought\nhim back secretly to the town. I could easily have justified him\nto the judge, and have had the robber punished as he deserved,\nbut durst not make the attempt, for fear of bringing myself into\ndanger of assassination. Thus I finished the sad adventure of my\nhonest blind brother. The caliph laughed at it, as much as at\nthose he had heard before, and ordered again that something\nshould be given me; but without staying for it, I began the story\nof my fourth brother.\n\n\n\n\n              The Story of the Barber's Fourth Brother.\n\n\n\nAlcouz was the name of the fourth brother who lost one of his\neyes, upon an occasion that I shall have the honour to relate to\nyour majesty. He was a butcher by profession, and had a\nparticular way of teaching rams to fight, by which he gained the\nacquaintance and friendship of the chief lords of the country,\nwho loved that sport, and for that end kept rams at their houses.\nHe had besides a very good trade, and had his shop always full of\nthe best meat, because he spared no cost for the prime of every\nsort. One day when he was in his shop, an old man with a long\nwhite beard came and bought six pounds of meat of him, gave him\nmoney for it, and went his way. My brother thought the money so\npure and well coined, that he put it apart by itself: the same\nold man came every day for five months together, bought a like\nquantity of meat, and paid for it in the same kind of money,\nwhich my brother continued to lay apart.\n\nAt the end of five months, Alcouz having a mind to buy a lot of\nsheep, and to pay for them in this money, opened his chest; but\ninstead of finding his money, was extremely surprised to see\nnothing in the place where he had laid it, but a parcel of leaves\nclipped round. He beat his head, and cried out aloud, which\npresently brought the neighbours about him, who were as much\nsurprised as he, when he told them the story. \"O!\" cried my\nbrother, weeping, \"that this treacherous old fellow would come\nnow with his hypocritical looks!\" He had scarcely spoken, when he\nsaw him at a distance; he ran to him, and laid hands on him;\n\"Moosulmauns,\" cried he, as loud as he could, \"help! hear what a\ncheat this wicked fellow has put upon me,\" and at the same time\ntold a great crowd of people, who came about him, what he had\nformerly told his neighbours. When he had done, the old man said\nto him very gravely and calmly, \"You had better let me go, and by\nthat means make amends for the affront you have put upon me\nbefore so many people, for fear I should put a greater affront\nupon you, which I should be sorry to do.\" \"How,\" said my brother,\n\"what have you to say against me? I am an honest man in my\nbusiness, and fear not you, nor any body.\" \"You would have me\nspeak out then,\" resumed the old man in the same tone; and\nturning to the crowd, said to them, \"Know, good people, that this\nfellow, instead of selling mutton as he ought to do, sells human\nflesh.\" \"You are a cheat,\" said my brother. \"No, no,\" continued\nthe old man; \"good people, this very minute while I am speaking\nto him, there is a man with his throat cut hung up in the shop\nlike a sheep; do any of you go thither, and see if what I say be\nnot true.\"\n\nJust before my brother had opened his chest he had killed a\nsheep, dressed it, and exposed it in the shop, according to\ncustom: he protested that what the old man said was false; but\nnotwithstanding all his protestations, the credulous mob,\nprejudiced against a man accused of such a heinous crime, would\ngo to see whether the charge were true. They obliged my brother\nto quit the old man, laid hold of him, and ran like madmen into\nhis shop, where they saw, to all appearance, a man hung up with\nhis throat cut, as the old man had told them; for he was a\nmagician, and deceived the eyes of all people, as he did my\nbrother, when he made him take leaves instead of money. At this\nsight, one of those who held Alcouz gave him a violent blow with\nhis fist, and said to him, \"Thou wicked villain, dost thou make\nus eat man's flesh instead of mutton?\" And at the same time the\nold man gave him another blow, which beat out one of his eyes.\nEvery body that could get near him struck him; and not content\nwith that, they carried him before a judge, with the pretended\ncarcase of the man, to be evidence against him. \"Sir,\" said the\nold magician to the judge, \"we have brought you a man, who is so\nbarbarous as to murder people, and to sell their flesh instead of\nmutton. The public expects that you will punish him in an\nexemplary manner.\" The judge heard my brother with patience, but\nwould believe nothing of the story of the money changed into\nleaves, called my brother a cheat, told him he would believe his\nown eyes, and ordered him to receive five hundred blows. He\nafterwards made him tell him where his money was, took it all\nfrom him, and banished him for ever, after having made him ride\nthree days through the city upon a camel, exposed to the insults\nof the people.\n\nI was not at Bagdad when this tragical adventure befell my fourth\nbrother. He retired into a remote place, where he lay concealed\ntill he was cured of the blows with which his back was terribly\nmangled. When he was able to walk, he went by night to a certain\ntown where nobody knew him; and there he took a lodging, from\nwhence he seldom moved; but being weary of this confined life, he\nwent to walk in one of the suburbs, where suddenly he heard a\nnoise of horsemen coming behind him. He was then by chance near\nthe gate of a house, and fearing, after what had befallen him,\nthat these horsemen were pursuing him, he opened the gate in\norder to hide himself, and after he had shut it, entered a court,\nwhere immediately two servants came and collared him, saying,\n\"Heaven be praised, that you have come of your own accord to\nsurrender yourself; you have alarmed us so much these three last\nnights, that we could not sleep; nor would you have spared our\nlives, if we had not prevented your design.\" You may well imagine\nmy brother was much surprised. \"Good people,\" said he, \"I know\nnot what you mean; you certainly take me for somebody else.\" \"No,\nno,\" replied they, \"we know that you and your comrades are\nrobbers: you were not contented to rob our master of all that he\nhad, and to reduce him to beggary, but you conspired to take his\nlife. Let us see if you have not a knife about you, which you had\nin your hand when you pursued us last night.\" Having said thus,\nthey searched him, and found he had a knife. \"Ho! ho!\" cried\nthey, laying hold of him, \"and dare you say that you are not a\nrobber?\" \"Why,\" said my brother, \"cannot a man carry a knife\nabout him without being a robber? If you will hearken to my\nstory, instead of having so bad an opinion of me, you will be\ntouched with compassion at my misfortunes.\" But far from\nattending to him, they fell upon him, trod upon him, took away\nhis clothes, and tore his shirt. Then seeing the scars on his\nback, \"O dog,\" said they, redoubling their blows, \"would you have\nus believe you are an honest man, when your back shews us the\ncontrary?\" \"Alas!\" said my brother, \"my crimes must be very\ngreat, since, after having been abused already so unjustly, I am\nthus treated a second time without being more culpable!\"\n\nThe two servants, no way moved with his complaint, carried him\nbefore the judge, who asked him how he durst presume to go into\ntheir house, and pursue them with a drawn knife? \"Sir,\" replied\nthe unfortunate Alcouz, \"I am the most innocent man in the world,\nand am undone if you will not be pleased to hear me patiently: no\none deserves more compassion.\" \"Sir,\" exclaimed one of the\ndomestics, \"will you listen to a robber, who enters people's\nhouses to plunder and murder them? If you will not believe us,\nonly look upon his back;\" and while he said so he uncovered my\nbrother's back, and shewed it to the judge, who, without any\nother information, commanded his officers immediately to give him\na hundred lashes over the shoulders, and made him afterwards be\ncarried through the town on a camel, with one crying before him,\n\"Thus are men punished who enter people's houses by force.\" After\nhaving treated him thus, they banished him the town, and forbad\nhim ever to return. Some people, who met him after the second\nmisfortune, brought me word where he was; I went, brought him to\nBagdad privately, and gave him all the assistance I could. The\ncaliph did not laugh so much at this story as at the other. He\nwas pleased to pity the unfortunate Alcouz, and ordered something\nto be given me. But without giving his servants time to obey his\norders, I continued my discourse, and said to him: \"My sovereign\nlord and master, you see that I do not talk much; and since your\nmajesty has been pleased to do me the favour to listen to me so\nfar, I beg you would likewise hear the adventures of my two other\nbrothers; I hope they will be as diverting as those of the\nformer. You may make a complete history of them, that will not be\nunworthy of your library: I shall do myself the honour then to\nacquaint you, that the fifth brother was called Alnaschar.\"\n\n\n\n\n            The Story of the Barber's Fifth Brother.\n\n\n\nAlnaschar, as long as our father lived, was very lazy; instead of\nworking he used to beg in the evening, and live upon what he got.\nOur father died at a very old age, and left among us seven\nhundred dirhems: we divided equally, so that each of us had a\nhundred for his share. Alnaschar, who had never before possessed\nso much money, was much perplexed to know what he should do with\nit. He consulted a long time with himself, and at last resolved\nto lay it out in glass-ware which he bought of a wholesale\ndealer. He put all in an open basket, and sat with it before him,\nand his back against a wall, in a place where he might sell it.\nIn this posture, with his eyes fixed on his basket, he began to\nmeditate; during which he spoke as follows: \"This basket cost me\na hundred dirhems, which is all I have in the world. I shall make\ntwo hundred of them by retailing my glass, and of these two\nhundred, which I will again lay out in glass-ware, I shall make\nfour hundred; and going on thus, I shall at last make four\nthousand dirhems; of four thousand I shall easily make eight\nthousand, and when I come to ten thousand, I will leave off\nselling glass and turn jeweller; I will trade in diamonds,\npearls, and all sorts of precious stones: then when I am as rich\nas I can wish, I will buy a fine mansion, a great estate, slaves,\neunuchs, and horses. I will keep a good house, and make a great\nfigure in the world; I will send for all the musicians and\ndancers of both sexes in town. Nor will I stop here, for, I will,\nby the favour of Heaven, go on till I get one hundred thousand\ndirhems, and when I have amassed so much, I will send to demand\nthe grand vizier's daughter in marriage; and represent to that\nminister, that I have heard much of the wonderful beauty,\nunderstanding, wit, and all the other qualities of his daughter;\nin a word, that I will give him a thousand pieces of gold the\nfirst night after we are married; and if the vizier be so uncivil\nas to refuse his daughter, which cannot be supposed, I will go\nand carry her off before his face, and take her to my house\nwhether he will or no. As soon as I have married the grand\nvizier's daughter, I will buy her ten young black eunuchs, the\nhandsomest that can be had; I will clothe my self like a prince,\nand mounted upon a fine horse, with a saddle of fine gold, with\nhousings of cloth of gold, finely embroidered with diamonds and\npearls, I will ride through the city, attended by slaves before\nand behind. I will go to the vizier's palace in view of all the\npeople great and small, who will show me the most profound\nrespect. When I alight at the foot of the vizier's staircase, I\nwill ascend through my own people, ranged in files on the right\nand left; and the grand vizier, receiving me as his son-in-law,\nshall give me the right hand and set me above him, to do me the\nmore honour. If this comes to pass, as I hope it will, two of my\npeople shall each of them have a purse with a thousand pieces of\ngold, which they shall carry with them. I will take one, and\npresenting it to the grand vizier, tell him, 'There is the\nthousand pieces of gold that I promised the first night of\nmarriage:' and I will offer him the other and say to him, 'There\nis as much more, to shew you that I am a man of my word, and even\nbetter than my promise.' After such an action as this, all the\nworld will talk of my generosity. I will return to my own house\nin the same pomp. My wife will send some officer to compliment\nme, on account of my visit to the vizier, her father: I will\nhonour the officer with a fine robe, and send him back with a\nrich present. If she send me a present, I will not accept it, but\ndismiss the bearer. I will not suffer her to go out of her\napartment on any account whatever, without giving me notice: and\nwhen I have a mind to come to her apartment, it shall be in such\na manner as to make her respect me. In short, no house shall be\nbetter ordered than mine. I will be always richly clad. When I\nretire with my wife in the evening, I will sit on the upper seat,\nI will affect a grave air, without turning my head to one side or\nthe other. I will speak little; and whilst my wife, beautiful as\nthe full moon, stands before me in all her charms, I will make as\nif I did not see her. Her women about her will say to me, 'Our\ndear lord and master, here is your spouse, your humble servant,\nbefore you, ready to receive your caresses, but much mortified\nthat you do not vouchsafe to look upon her; she is wearied with\nstanding so long, bid her, at least, sit down.' I will make no\nanswer, which will increase their surprise and grief. They will\nprostrate themselves at my feet; and after they have for a\nconsiderable time entreated me to relent, I will at last lift up\nmy head, give her a careless look, and resume my former posture:\nthey will suppose that my wife is not handsomely enough dressed,\nand will carry her to her closet to change her apparel. At the\nsame time I will get up and put on a more magnificent suit; they\nwill return and address me as before, but I will not so much as\nlook upon my wife, till they have prayed and entreated as long as\nthey did at first. Thus I will begin on the first day of\nmarriage, to teach her what she is to expect during the rest of\nher life.\n\n\"After the ceremonies of the marriage, I will take from one of my\nservants, who shall be about me, a purse of five hundred pieces\nof gold, which I will give to the tire-women, that they may leave\nme alone with my spouse: when they are gone, my wife shall go to\nbed first; then I will lie down by her with my back towards her,\nand will not say one wore to her all night. The next morning she\nwill certainly complain of my contempt and of my pride, to her\nmother the grand vizier's wife, which will rejoice my heart. Her\nmother will come to wait upon me, respectfully kiss my hands, and\nsay to me, 'Sir' (for she will not dare to call me son-in-law,\nfor fear of provoking me by such a familiar style), 'I entreat\nyou not to disdain to look on my daughter, and refuse to come\nnear her. I assure you that her chief delight is to please you,\nand that she loves you with all her soul.' But in spite of all my\nmother-in-law can say, I will not answer her one word, but keep\nan obstinate gravity. Then she will throw herself at my feet,\nkiss them repeatedly, and say to me, 'Sir, is it possible that\nyou can suspect my daughter's virtue? You are the first man who\never saw her face: do not mortify her so much; do her the favour\nto look upon her, to speak to her, and confirm her in her good\nintentions to satisfy you in every thing.' But nothing of this\nshall prevail with me. Upon which my mother-in-law will take a\nglass of wine, and putting it in the hand of her daughter my\nwife, will say, 'Go, present him this glass of wine yourself;\nperhaps he will not be so cruel as to refuse it from so fair a\nhand.' My wife will come with the glass and stand trembling\nbefore me; and when she finds that I do not look towards her, but\nthat I continue to disdain her, she will say to me with tears in\nher eyes, 'My heart, my dear soul, my amiable lord, I conjure\nyou, by the favours which heaven heaps upon you, to receive this\nglass of wine from the hand of your most humble servant:' but I\nwill not look upon her still, nor answer her. 'My charming\nspouse,' will she say, redoubling her tears, and putting the\nglass to my mouth, 'I will never cease till I prevail with you to\ndrink;' then, wearied with her entreaties, I will dart a terrible\nlook at her, shake my hand in her face, and spurn her from me\nwith my foot.\"\n\nMy brother was so full of these chimerical visions, that he acted\nwith his foot as if she had been really before him, and\nunfortunately gave such a push to his basket and glasses, that\nthey were thrown down, and broken into a thousand pieces.\n\nOn this fatal accident, he came to himself, and perceiving that\nhe had brought misfortune upon himself by his insupportable\npride, beat his face, tore his clothes, and cried so loud, that\nthe neighbours came about him; and the people, who were going to\ntheir noon prayers, stopped to know what was the matter. Being on\na Friday, more people went to prayers than usual; some of them\ntook pity on Alnaschar, and others only laughed at his\nextravagance. In the mean time, his vanity being dispersed with\nhis property, he bitterly bewailed his loss; and a lady of rank\npassing by upon a mule richly caparisoned, my brother's situation\nmoved her compassion. She asked who he was, and what he cried\nfor? They told her, that he was a poor man, who had laid out the\nlittle money he possessed in the purchase of a basket of\nglassware, that the basket had fallen, and all his glasses were\nbroken. The lady immediately turned to an eunuch who attended\nher, and said to him, \"Give the poor man what you have about\nyou.\" The eunuch obeyed, and put into my brother's hands a purse\nwith five hundred pieces of gold. Alnaschar was ready to die with\njoy when he received it. He gave a thousand blessings to the\nlady, and shutting up his shop, where he had no more occasion to\nsit, went to his house.\n\nWhile he was pondering over his good luck, he heard somebody\nknock at his door. Before he opened, he asked who it was, and\nknowing by the voice that it was a woman, he let her in. \"My\nson,\" said she, \"I have a favour to beg of you: the hour of\nprayer is come, let me perform my ablutions in your house, that I\nmay be fit to say my prayers.\" My brother looking at her, and\nseeing that she was well advanced in years, though he knew her\nnot, granted her request, and sat down again still full of his\nnew adventure. He put his gold in a long strait purse, proper to\ncarry at his girdle. The old woman in the mean time said her\nprayers, and when she had done, came to my brother and bowed\ntwice to the ground, so low, that she touched it with her\nforehead: then rising up, she wished him all happiness.\n\nThe old woman then bowed again, and thanked him for his civility.\nBeing meanly clad, and very humble, he thought she asked alms;\nupon which he offered her two pieces of gold. The old woman\nstepped back in a sort of surprise, as if my brother had\naffronted her. \"Good God!\" said she, \"what is the meaning of\nthis? Is it possible, sir, that you took me for one of those\nimpudent beggars who push into people's houses to ask alms? Take\nback your money: thank heaven, I need it not. I belong to a young\nlady of this city, who is a perfect beauty, and very rich; she\nlets me want for nothing.\"\n\nMy brother was not cunning enough to perceive the craft of the\nold woman, who only refused the two pieces of gold, that she\nmight catch more. He asked her, if she could not procure him the\nhonour of seeing that lady. \"With all my heart,\" she replied;\n\"she will be very glad to marry you, and to put you in possession\nof her fortune, by making you master of her person. Take up your\nmoney, and follow me.\" My brother, transported with his good luck\nin finding so great a sum of money, and almost at the same time a\nbeautiful and rich wife, shut his eyes to all other\nconsiderations; so that he took his five hundred pieces of gold,\nand followed the old woman. She walked on, and he followed at a\ndistance, to the gate of a great house, where she knocked. He\ncame up just as a young Greek slave opened the gate. The old\nwoman made him enter first, crossed a well-paved court, and\nintroduced him into a hall, the furniture of which confirmed him\nin the good opinion he had conceived of the mistress of the\nhouse. While the old woman went to acquaint the lady, he sat\ndown, and the weather being hot, put off his turban, and laid it\nby him. He speedily saw the young lady enter: her beauty and rich\napparel perfectly surprised him; he arose as soon as he saw her.\nThe lady, with a smiling countenance, prayed him to sit down\nagain, and placed herself by him. She told him, she was very glad\nto see him; and after having spoken some engaging words, said,\n\"We do not sit here at our ease. Come, give me your hand.\" At\nthese words she presented him hers, and conducted him into an\ninner chamber, where she conversed with him for some time: she\nthen left him, saying that she would be with him in a moment. He\nwaited for her; but instead of the lady came in a great black\nslave with a cimeter in his hand, and looking upon my brother\nwith a terrible aspect, said to him fiercely, \"What have you to\ndo here?\" Alnaschar was so frightened, that he had no power to\nanswer. The black stripped him, carried off his gold, and gave\nhim several flesh wounds with his cimeter. My unhappy brother\nfell to the ground, where he lay without motion, though he had\nstill the use of his senses. The black thinking him to be dead,\nasked for salt: the Greek slave brought him a basin full: they\nrubbed my brother's wounds with it, but he had so much command of\nhimself, notwithstanding the intolerable pain it put him to, that\nhe lay still without giving any sign of life. The black and the\nGreek slave having retired, the old woman, who had enticed my\nbrother into the snare, came and dragged him by the feet to a\ntrapdoor, which she opened, and threw him into a place under\nground, among the bodies of several other people who had been\nmurdered. He perceived this as soon as he came to himself, for\nthe violence of the fall had taken away his senses. The salt\nrubbed into his wounds preserved his life, and he recovered\nstrength by degrees, so as to be able to walk. After two days he\nopened the trap-door in the night, and finding in the court a\nplace proper to hide himself in, continued there till break of\nday, when he saw the cursed old woman open the street gate, and\ngo out to seek another victim. He stayed in the place some time\nafter she was gone, that she might not see him, and then came to\nme for shelter, when he told me of his adventures.\n\nIn a month's time he was perfectly cured of his wounds by\nmedicines that I gave him, and resolved to avenge himself of the\nold woman, who had put such a barbarous cheat upon him. To this\nend he took a bag, large enough to contain five hundred pieces of\ngold, and filled it with pieces of glass.\n\nMy brother fastened the bag of glass about him, disguised himself\nlike an old woman, and took a cimeter under his gown. One morning\nhe met the old woman walking through the town to seek her prey;\nhe went up to her, and counterfeiting a woman's voice, said,\n\"Cannot you lend me a pair of scales? I am newly come from\nPersia, have brought five hundred pieces of gold with me, and\nwould know if they are weight.\" \"Good woman,\" answered the old\nhag, \"you could not have applied to a fitter person: follow me, I\nwill conduct you to my son, who changes money, and will weigh\nthem himself to save you the trouble. Let us make haste, for fear\nhe should go to his shop.\" My brother followed her to the house\nwhere she carried him at first, and the Greek slave opened the\ndoor.\n\nThe old woman took my brother to the hall where she desired him\nto wait till she called her son. The pretended son came, and\nproved to be the villainous black slave. \"Come, old woman,\" said\nhe to my brother, \"rise and follow me:\" having spoken thus, he\nwent before to conduct him to the place where he designed to\nmurder him. Alnaschar got up, followed him, and drawing his\ncimeter, gave him such a dexterous blow behind on the neck, that\nhe cut off his head, which he took in one hand, and dragging the\ncorpse with the other, threw them both into the place under\nground before-mentioned. The Greek slave, who was accustomed to\nthe trade, came presently with a basin of salt; but when she saw\nAlnaschar with his cimeter in his hand, and without his veil, she\nlaid down the basin, and fled. But my brother overtaking her, cut\noff her head also. The wicked old woman came running at the\nnoise, and my brother seizing her, said to her, \"Treacherous\nwretch, do not you know me?\" \"Alas, Sir!\" answered she trembling,\n\"who are you? I do not remember that I ever saw you.\" \"I am,\"\nreplied he, \"the person to whose house you came the other day to\nwash and say your prayers. Hypocritical hag, do not you\nremember?\" Then she fell on her knees to beg his pardon, but he\ncut her in four pieces.\n\nThere remained only the lady, who knew nothing of what had\npassed: he sought her out, and found her in a chamber, where she\nwas ready to sink when she saw him: she begged her life, which he\ngenerously granted. \"Madam,\" said he, \"how could you live with\nsuch wicked people, as I have so justly revenged myself upon?\" \"I\nwas,\" she answered, \"wife to an honest merchant; and the old\nwoman, whose wickedness I did not then know, used sometimes to\ncome to see me; 'Madam,' said she to me one day, 'we have a\nwedding at our house, which you will be pleased to see, if you\nwill give us the honour of your company:' I was persuaded by her,\nput on my best apparel, and took with me a hundred pieces of\ngold. I followed her; she brought me to this house, where the\nblack has since kept me by force, and I have been three years\nhere to my great sorrow.\" \"By the trade which that cursed black\nfollowed,\" replied my brother, \"he must have gathered together a\nvast deal of riches.\" \"There is so much,\" said she \"that you will\nbe made for ever, if you can carry them off: follow me, and you\nshall see them.\" Alnaschar followed her to a chamber, where she\nshewed him several coffers full of gold, which he beheld with\nadmiration. \"Go,\" said she, \"and fetch people to carry it all\noff.\" My brother went out, got ten men together, and brought them\nwith him, but was much surprised to find the gate open, the lady\nand the coffers gone, for she being more diligent than he, had\nconveyed them all off and disappeared. However, being resolved\nnot to return empty-handed, he carried off all the furniture of\nthe house, which was a great deal more than enough to make up the\nfive hundred pieces of gold he had been robbed of; but when he\nwent out of the house, he forgot to shut the gate. The\nneighbours, who saw my brother and the porters come and go, went\nand acquainted the magistrate, for they looked upon my brother's\nconduct as suspicious. Alnaschar slept well enough all night, but\nthe next morning, when he came out of his house, twenty of the\nmagistrate's men seized him. \"Come along with us,\" said they,\n\"our master would speak with you.\" My brother prayed them to have\npatience for a moment, and offered them a sum of money to let him\nescape; but instead of listening to him, they bound him, and\nforced him to go with them. They met in the street an old\nacquaintance of my brother's, who stopped them awhile, asked them\nwhy they had seized my brother, offered them a considerable sum\nto let him escape, and tell the magistrate they could not find\nhim, but in vain.\n\nWhen the officers brought him before the magistrate, he asked him\nwhere he had the goods which he had carried home the preceding\nevening? \"Sir,\" replied Alnaschar, \"I am ready to tell you all\nthe truth; but allow me first to have recourse to your clemency,\nand to beg your promise, that I shall not be punished.\" \"I give\nit you,\" said the magistrate. My brother then told him the whole\nstory without disguise, from the period the old woman came into\nhis house to say her prayers, to the time the lady made her\nescape, after he had killed the black, the Greek slave, and the\nold woman: and as for what he had carried to his house, he prayed\nthe judge to leave him part of it, for the five hundred pieces of\ngold of which he had been robbed.\n\nThe judge, without promising any thing, sent his officers to\nbring off the whole, and having put the goods into his own\nwarehouse, commanded my brother to quit the town immediately, and\nnever to return, for he was afraid, if he had stayed in the city,\nhe would have found some way to represent this injustice to the\ncaliph. In the mean time, Alnaschar obeyed without murmuring, and\nleft that town to go to another. By the way, he met with\nhighwaymen, who stripped him naked; and when the ill news was\nbrought to me, I carried him a suit, and brought him secretly\ninto the town, where I took the like care of him as I did of his\nother brothers.\n\n\n\n\n              The Story of the Barber's Sixth Brother.\n\n\n\nI have now only to relate the story of my sixth brother, called\nSchacabac, with the hare lips. At first he was industrious enough\nto improve the hundred dirhems of silver which fell to his share,\nand went on very well; but a reverse of fortune brought him to\nbeg his bread, which he did with a great deal of dexterity. He\nstudied chiefly to get into great men's houses by means of their\nservants and officers, that he might have access to their\nmasters, and obtain their charity. One day as he passed by a\nmagnificent house, whose high gate shewed a very spacious court,\nwhere there was a multitude of servants, he went to one of them,\nand asked him to whom that house belonged? \"Good man,\" replied\nthe servant, \"whence do you come that you ask me such a question?\nDoes not all that you behold point out to you that it is the\npalace of a Barmecide?\" My brother, who very well knew the\nliberality and generosity of the Barmecides, addressed himself to\none of his porters (for he had more than one), and prayed him to\ngive him alms. \"Go in,\" said he, \"nobody hinders you, and address\nyourself to the master of the house; he will send you back\nsatisfied.\"\n\nMy brother, who expected no such civility, thanked the porters,\nand with their permission entered the palace, which was so large,\nthat it took him a considerable time to reach the Barmecide's\napartment; at last he came to an arcade square building of an\nexcellent architecture, and entered by parterres of flowers\nintersected by walks of several colours, extremely pleasant to\nthe eye: the lower apartments round this square were most of them\nopen, and were shut only with great curtains to keep out the sun,\nwhich were opened again when the heat was over to let in the\nfresh air.\n\nSuch an agreeable place would have struck my brother with\nadmiration, even if his mind had been more at ease than it was.\nHe went on till he came into a hall richly furnished and adorned\nwith painting of gold and azure foliage, where he saw a venerable\nman with a long white beard, sitting at the upper end on a sofa,\nwhence he concluded him to be the master of the house; and in\nfact it was the Barmecide himself, who said to my brother in a\nvery civil manner, that he was welcome; and asked him what he\nwanted? \"My lord,\" answered my brother, in a begging tone, \"I am\na poor man who stands in need of the help of such rich and\ngenerous persons as yourself.\" He could not have addressed\nhimself to a fitter person than this lord, who had a thousand\ngood qualities.\n\nThe Barmecide seemed to be astonished at my brother's answer, and\nputting both his hands to his stomach, as if he would rend his\nclothes for grief, \"Is it possible,\" cried he, \"that I am at\nBagdad, and that such a man as you is so poor as you say? this is\nwhat must never be.\" My brother, fancying that he was going to\ngive him some singular mark of his bounty, blessed him a thousand\ntimes, and wished him all happiness. \"It shall not be said,\"\nreplied the Barmecide, \"that I will abandon you, nor will I have\nyou leave me.\" \"Sir,\" replied my brother, \"I swear to you I have\nnot eaten one bit to-day.\" \"Is it true,\" demanded the Barmecide,\n\"that you are fasting till now? Alas, poor man! he is ready to\ndie for hunger. Ho, boy,\" cried he, with a loud voice, \"bring a\nbasin and water presently, that we may wash our hands.\" Though no\nboy appeared, and my brother saw neither water nor basin, the\nBarmecide fell to rubbing his hands as if one had poured water\nupon them, and bade my brother come and wash with him. Schacabac\njudged by this, that the Barmecide lord loved to be merry, and he\nhimself understanding raillery, and knowing that the poor must be\ncomplaisant to the rich, if they would have any thing from them,\ncame forward and did as he was required.\n\n\"Come on,\" said the Barmecide, \"bring us something to eat, and do\nnot let us wait.\" When he had spoken, though nothing appeared, he\nbegan to cut as if something had been brought him upon a plate,\nand putting his hand to his mouth began to chew, and said to my\nbrother, \"Come, friend, eat as freely as if you were at home;\ncome, eat; you said you were like to die of hunger, but you eat\nas if you had no appetite.\" \"Pardon me, my lord,\" said Schacabac,\nwho perfectly imitated what he did, \"you see I lose no time, and\nthat I play my part well enough.\" \"How like you this bread,\" said\nthe Barmecide; \"do not you find it very good?\" \"O! my lord,\"\nreplied my brother, who saw neither bread nor meat, \"I have never\neaten anything so white and so fine.\" \"Eat your belly-full,\" said\nthe Barmecide; \"I assure you the woman who bakes me this good\nbread cost me five hundred pieces of gold to purchase her.\"\n\nThe Barmecide, after having boasted so much of his bread, which\nmy brother ate only in idea, cried, \"Boy, bring us another dish:\"\nand though no boy appeared, \"Come, my good friend,\" continued he,\n\"taste this new dish; and tell me if ever you ate better mutton\nand barley-broth than this.\" \"It is admirably good,\" replied my\nbrother, \"and therefore you see I eat heartily.\" \"You oblige me\nhighly,\" resumed the Barmecide; \"I conjure you then, by the\nsatisfaction I have to see you eat so heartily, that you eat all\nup, since you like it so well.\" A little while after he called\nfor a goose and sweet sauce, made up of vinegar, honey, dry\nraisins, grey peas, and dry figs, which were brought just in the\nsame manner as the others had. \"The goose is very fat,\" said the\nBarmecide, \"eat only a leg and a wing; we must save our stomachs,\nfor we have abundance of other dishes to come.\" He actually\ncalled for several others, of which my brother, who was ready to\ndie of hunger, pretended to eat; but what he boasted of more than\nall the rest was a lamb fed with pistachio nuts, which he ordered\nto be brought up in the same manner. \"Here is a dish,\" said the\nBarmecide \"that you will see at nobody's table but my own; I\nwould have you eat your belly-full of it.\" Having spoken thus, he\nstretched out his hand as if he had had a piece of lamb in it,\nand putting it to my brother's mouth, \"There,\" said he, \"swallow\nthat, and you will judge whether I had not reason to boast of\nthis dish.\" My brother thrust out his head, opened his mouth, and\nmade as if he took the piece of lamb, and eat it with extreme\npleasure. \"I knew you would like it,\" said the Barmecide. \"There\nis nothing in the world finer,\" replied my brother; \"your table\nis most delicious.\" \"Come, bring the ragout; I fancy you will\nlike that as well as you did the lamb: Well, how do you relish\nit?\" \"O! it is wonderful,\" replied Schacabac; \"for here we taste\nall at once, amber, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, pepper, and the most\nodoriferous herbs, and all these delicacies are so well mixed,\nthat one does not prevent our tasting the other.\" \"How pleasant!\nHonour this ragout,\" said the Barmecide, \"by eating heartily of\nit. Ho, boy, bring us another ragout.\" \"No, my lord, if it please\nyou,\" replied my brother, \"for indeed I can eat no more.\"\n\n\"Come, take away then,\" said the Barmecide, \"and bring the\nfruit.\" He stayed a moment as it were to give time for his\nservants to carry away; after which, he addressed my brother,\n\"Taste these almonds, they are good and fresh gathered.\" Both of\nthem made as if they had peeled the almonds, and eaten them;\nafter this, the Barmecide invited my brother to eat something\nelse. \"Look,\" said he, \"there are all sorts of fruits, cakes, dry\nsweetmeats, and conserves, take what you like;\" then stretching\nout his hand, as if he had reached my brother something, \"Look,\"\nhe continued, \"there is a lozenge, very good for digestion.\"\nSchacabac made as if he ate it, and said, \"My lord, there is no\nwant of musk here.\" \"These lozenges,\" replied the Barmecide, \"are\nmade at my own house, where nothing is wanting to make every\narticle good.\" He still bade my brother eat, and said to him,\n\"Methinks you do not eat as if you had been so hungry as you\ncomplained you were when you came in.\" \"My lord,\" replied\nSchacabac, whose jaws ached with moving and having nothing to\neat, \"I assure you I am so full that I cannot eat one bit more.\"\n\n\"Well, then, friend,\" resumed the Barmecide, \"we must drink now,\nafter we have eaten so well.\" \"You may drink wine, my lord,\"\nreplied my brother, \"but I will drink none if you please, because\nI am forbidden.\" \"You are too scrupulous,\" rejoined the\nBarmecide; \"do as I do.\" \"I will drink then out of complaisance,\"\nsaid Schacabac, \"for I see you will have nothing wanting to make\nyour treat complete; but since I am not accustomed to drink wine,\nI am afraid I shall commit some error in point of good breeding,\nand contrary to the respect that is due to you; therefore I pray\nyou, once more, to excuse me from drinking any wine; I will be\ncontent with water.\" \"No, no,\" said the Barmecide, \"you shall\ndrink wine,\" and at the same time he commanded some to be\nbrought, in the same manner as the meat and fruit had been served\nbefore. He made as if he poured out wine, and drank first\nhimself, and then pouring out for my brother, presented him the\nglass, saying, \"Drink my health, and let us know if you think\nthis wine good.\" My brother made as if he took the glass, and\nlooked as if the colour was good, and put it to his nose to try\nthe flavour: he then made a low salute to the Barmecide, to\nsignify that he took the liberty to drink his health, and lastly\nhe appeared to drink with all the signs of a man that drinks with\npleasure: \"My lord,\" said he, \"this is very excellent wine, but I\nthink it is not strong enough.\" \"If you would have stronger,\"\nanswered the Barmecide, \"you need only speak, for I have several\nsorts in my cellar. Try how you like this.\" Upon which he made as\nif he poured out another glass for himself, and one for my\nbrother; and did this so often, that Schacabac, feigning to be\nintoxicated with the wine, and acting a drunken man, lifted up\nhis hand, and gave the Barmecide such a box on the ear as made\nhim fall down. He was going to give him another blow, but the\nBarmecide holding up his hand to ward it off, cried, \"Are you\nmad?\" Then my brother, making as if he had come to himself again,\nsaid, \"My lord, you have been so good as to admit your slave into\nyour house, and give him a treat; you should have been satisfied\nwith making me eat, and not have obliged me to drink wine; for I\ntold you beforehand, that it might occasion me to fail in my\nrespect for you. I am very sorry for it, and beg you a thousand\npardons.\"\n\nScarcely had he finished these words, when the Barmecide, instead\nof being in a passion, fell a laughing with all his might. \"I\nhave been long,\" said he, \"seeking a man of your character.\"\n\nThe Barmecide caressed Schacabac mightily, and told him, \"I not\nonly forgive the blow you have given me, but I desire\nhenceforward we should be friends, and that you take my house for\nyour home: you have had the complaisance to accommodate yourself\nto my humour, and the patience to keep the jest up to the last;\nwe will now eat in good earnest.\" When he had finished these\nwords, he clapped his hands, and commanded his servants, who then\nappeared, to cover the table; which was speedily done, and my\nbrother was treated with all those dishes in reality, which he\nate of before in fancy. At last they cleared the table, and\nbrought in the wine, and at the same time a number of handsome\nslaves, richly appareled, came and sung some agreeable airs to\ntheir musical instruments. In a word, Schacabac had all the\nreason in the world to be satisfied with the Barmecide's civility\nand bounty; for he treated him as his familiar friend, and\nordered him a suit from his wardrobe.\n\nThe Barmecide found my brother to be a man of so much wit and\nunderstanding, that in a few days after he entrusted him with the\ncare of his household and all his affairs. My brother acquitted\nhimself very well in that employment for twenty years; at the end\nof which the generous Barmecide died, and leaving no heirs, all\nhis property was confiscated to the use of the prince; and my\nbrother lost all he had acquired. Being reduced to his first\ncondition, he joined a caravan of pilgrims going to Mecca,\ndesigning to accomplish that pilgrimage by their charity; but\nunfortunately the caravan was attacked and plundered by a number\nof Bedouins, superior to that of the pilgrims. My brother was\nthen taken as a slave by one of the Bedouins, who put him under\nthe bastinado for several days, to oblige him to ransom himself.\nSchacabac protested that it was all in vain. \"I am your slave,\"\nsaid he, \"you may dispose of me as you please; but I declare to\nyou that I am extremely poor, and not able to redeem myself.\" In\na word, my brother discovered to him all his misfortunes, and\nendeavoured to soften him with tears; but the Bedouin was not to\nbe moved, and being vexed to find himself disappointed of a\nconsiderable sum of which he reckoned himself sure, he took his\nknife and slit my brother's lips, to avenge himself by this\ninhumanity for the loss that he thought he had sustained.\n\nThe Bedouin had a handsome wife, and frequently when he went on\nhis excursions left my brother alone with her. At such times she\nused all her endeavours to comfort my brother under the rigour of\nhis slavery. She gave him tokens enough that she loved him, but\nhe durst not return her passion, for fear he should repent; and\ntherefore avoided being alone with her, as much as she sought the\nopportunity to be alone with him. She was so much in the habit of\ncaressing and playing with the miserable Schacabac, whenever she\nsaw him, that one day she happened to act in the same manner, in\nthe presence of her husband. My brother, without taking notice\nthat he observed them (so his sins would have it), played\nlikewise with her. The Bedouin, immediately supposing that they\nlived together in a criminal manner, fell upon my brother in a\nrage, and after he had mutilated him in a barbarous manner,\ncarried him on a camel to the top of a desert mountain, where he\nleft him. The mountain was on the road to Bagdad, so that the\npassengers who saw him there informed me where he was. I went\nthither speedily, and found unfortunate Schacabac in a deplorable\ncondition: I gave him what help he stood in need of, and brought\nhim back to the city.\n\nThis is what I told the caliph; that prince applauded me with new\nfits of laughter. \"Now,\" said he, \"I cannot doubt but they justly\ngive you the surname of Silent. No one can say the contrary for\ncertain reasons, however, I command you to depart this town\nimmediately, and let me hear no more of you.\" I yielded to\nnecessity, and travelled for several years in distant countries.\nUnderstanding at last that the caliph was dead, I returned to\nBagdad, where I found not one of my brothers alive. It was on my\nreturn to this city that I did the lame young man the important\nservice which you have heard. You are, however, witnesses of his\ningratitude, and of the injurious manner in which he treated me;\ninstead of testifying his obligation, he rather chose to fly from\nme and leave his own country. When I understood that he was not\nat Bagdad, though no one could tell me whither he was gone, I\ndetermined to seek him. I travelled from province to province a\nlong time; and when I least expected, met him this day, but I\nlittle thought to find him so incensed against me.\n\nWhen the barber had concluded his story, we found that the young\nman was not to blame for calling him a great chatterer. However,\nhe wished him to stay with us, and partake of the entertainment\nwhich the master of the house had prepared. We sat down to table,\nand were merry together till afternoon prayers; when all the\ncompany parted, and I went to my shop, till it was time to return\nhome. It was during this interval that humpback came half drunk\nbefore my shop, where he sung and played on his tabor. I thought\nthat, by carrying him home with me, I should divert my wife,\ntherefore I took him in: my wife gave us a dish of fish, and I\npresented humpback with some, which he ate, without taking notice\nof a bone. He fell down dead before us, and after having in vain\nessayed to help him, in the trouble and fear occasioned by such\nan unlucky accident, we carried the corpse out, and dexterously\nlodged him with the Jewish doctor. The Jewish doctor put him into\nthe chamber of the purveyor, and the purveyor carried him out\ninto the street, where it was believed the merchant had killed\nhim. \"This sir,\" added the tailor, \"is what I had to say to\nsatisfy your majesty, who must pronounce whether we be worthy of\nmercy or wrath, life or death.\"\n\nThe sultan of Casgar shewed a satisfaction in his countenance,\nwhich restored the tailor and his comrades to life. \"I cannot but\nacknowledge,\" said he, \"that I am more struck with the history of\nthe young cripple, with that of the barber, and with the\nadventures of his brothers, than with the story of my jester: but\nbefore I send you all away, and we proceed to bury humpback, I\nshould like to see the barber who is the occasion of my pardoning\nyou; since he is in my capital, it is easy to satisfy my\ncuriosity.\" At the same time he sent an officer with the tailor\nto find him.\n\nThe officer and the tailor went immediately and brought the\nbarber, whom they presented to the sultan: the barber was a\nvenerable man about ninety years of age; his eye-brows and beard\nwere white as snow, his ears hanging down, and his nose very\nlong. The sultan could not forbear laughing when he saw him.\n\"Silent man,\" said he to him, \"I understand that you know\nwonderful stories, will you tell me some of them?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the barber, \"let us forbear the stories, if you\nplease, at present. I most humbly beg your majesty to permit me\nto ask what that Christian, that Jew, that Moosulmaun and that\ndead humpback, who ties on the ground, do here before your\nmajesty?\" The sultan smiled at the barber's freedom, and replied,\n\"Why do you ask?\" \"Sir,\" replied the barber, \"it concerns me to\nask, that your majesty may know I am not so great a talker as\nsome represent me, but a man justly called Silent.\"\n\nThe sultan commanded them to tell him the story of the humpback,\nwhich he seemed earnestly to wish for. When the barber heard it,\nhe shook his head, as if he would say, there was something under\nthis which he did not understand. \"Truly,\" cried he, \"this is a\nsurprising story; but I wish to examine humpback a little\nnearer.\" He approached him, sat down on the ground, took his head\nbetween his knees, and after he had looked upon him steadfastly,\nfell into so great a fit of laughter, and had so little command\nof himself, that he fell backwards on the ground, without\nconsidering that he was before the sultan of Casgar. As soon as\nhe came to himself, \"It is said,\" cried he, \"and not without\nreason, that no man dies without a cause. If ever any history\ndeserved to be written in letters of gold, it is that of this\nhumpback.\"\n\nAt this all the people looked on the barber as a buffoon, or an\nold dotard. \"Silent man,\" said the sultan, \"why do you laugh?\"\n\"Sir,\" answered the barber, \"I swear by your majesty's\nbenevolence, that humpback is not dead: he is yet alive, and I\nshall be content to pass for a madman if I do not convince you\nthis minute.\" So saying, he took a box wherein he had several\nmedicines that he carried about him to use as occasion might\nrequire; and drew out a little phial of balsam, with which he\nrubbed humpback's neck a long time; then he took out of his case\na neat iron instrument, which he put betwixt his teeth, and after\nhe had opened his mouth, he thrust down his throat a pair of\nsmall pincers, with which he took out a bit of fish and bone,\nwhich he shewed to all the people. Immediately humpback sneezed,\nstretched forth his arms and feet, opened his eyes, and shewed\nseveral other signs of life.\n\nThe sultan of Casgar, and all who were witnesses of this\noperation, were less surprised to see humpback revive, after he\nhad passed a whole night, and great part of a day, without giving\nany sign of life, than at the merit and capacity of the barber,\nwho performed this; and notwithstanding all his faults, began to\nlook upon him as a great physician. The sultan, transported with\njoy and admiration, ordered the story of humpback to be written\ndown, with that of the barber, that the memory of them might, as\nit deserved, be preserved for ever. Nor did he stop here; but,\nthat the tailor, Jewish doctor, purveyor, and Christian merchant\nmight remember the adventure, which the accident of humpback had\noccasioned to them, with pleasure, he did not send them away till\nhe had given each of them a very rich robe, with which he caused\nthem to be clothed in his presence. As for the barber, he\nhonoured him with a great pension, and kept him near his person.\n\n\n\n\n         The History of Aboulhassen Ali Ebn Becar, and\n     Schemselnihar, Favourite of Caliph Maroon Al Rusheed.\n\n\n\nIn the reign of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, there lived at\nBagdad a druggist, named Alboussan Ebn Thaher, a very rich\nhandsome man. He had more wit and politeness than people of his\nprofession generally possess: his integrity, sincerity, and good\nhumour made him beloved and sought after by all sorts of people.\nThe caliph, who knew his merit, had entire confidence in him. He\nheld him in such high esteem, that he entrusted him to provide\nhis favourite ladies with all the things they stood in need of.\nHe chose for them their clothes, furniture, and jewels, with\nadmirable taste.\n\nHis good qualities, and the favour of the caliph, occasioned the\nsons of emirs, and other officers of the first rank, to be always\nabout him: his house was the rendezvous of all the nobility of\nthe court Among the young lords that went daily to visit him, was\none whom he took more notice of than the rest, and with whom he\ncontrasted a particular friendship, called Aboulhassen Ali Ebn\nBecar, originally of an ancient royal family of Persia. This\nfamily had continued at Bagdad ever since the conquest of that\nkingdom. Nature seemed to have taken pleasure in endowing this\nyoung prince with the rarest qualities of body and mind: his face\nwas so very beautiful, his shape so fine, his air so easy, and\nhis physiognomy so engaging, that it was impossible to see him\nwithout immediately loving him. When he spoke, he expressed\nhimself in terms proper and well chosen, with a new and agreeable\nturn, and his voice charmed all that heard him: he had besides so\nmuch wit and judgment, that he thought and spoke of all subjects\nwith admirable exactness. He was so reserved and modest, that he\nadvanced nothing till after he had taken all possible care to\navoid giving any ground of suspicion that he preferred his own\nopinion to that of others.\n\nBeing such a person as I have represented him, we need not wonder\nthat Ebn Thaher distinguished him from all the other young\nnoblemen of the court, most of whom had the vices which composed\nthe opposites to his virtues. One day, when the prince was with\nEbn Thaher, there came a lady mounted on a piebald mule, in the\nmidst of ten female slaves who accompanied her on foot, all very\nhandsome, as far as could be judged by their air, and through\ntheir veils which covered their faces. The lady had a girdle of a\nrose colour, four inches broad, embroidered with pearls and\ndiamonds of an extraordinary bigness; and for beauty it was easy\nto perceive that she surpassed all her women, as far as the full\nmoon does that of two days old. She came to buy something, and as\nshe wanted to speak to Ebn Thaher, entered his shop, which was\nvery neat and spacious; and he received her with all the marks of\nthe most profound respect, entreating her to sit down, and\ndirecting her to the most honourable place.\n\nIn the mean time, the prince of Persia, unwilling to lose such an\nopportunity of shewing his good breeding and gallantry, adjusted\nthe cushion of cloth of gold, for the lady to lean on; after\nwhich he hastily retired, that she might sit down; and having\nsaluted her, by kissing the carpet under her feet, rose and stood\nbefore her at the lower end of the sofa. It being her custom to\nbe free with Ebn Thaher, she lifted up her veil, and discovered\nto the prince of Persia such an extraordinary beauty as struck\nhim to the heart. On the other hand, the lady could not refrain\nfrom looking upon the prince, the sight of whom had made the same\nimpressions upon her. \"My lord,\" said she to him, with an\nobliging air, \"pray sit down.\" The prince of Persia obeyed, and\nsat on the edge of the sofa. He had his eyes constantly fixed\nupon her, and swallowed large draughts of the sweet poison of\nlove. She quickly perceived what passed in his heart, and this\ndiscovery served to inflame her the more towards him. She arose,\nwent to Ebn Thaher, and after she had whispered to him the cause\nof her coming, asked the name and country of the prince. \"Madam,\"\nanswered Ebn Thaher, \"this young nobleman's name is Aboulhassen\nAli Ebn Becar, and he is a prince of the blood royal of Persia.\"\n\nThe lady was transported at hearing that the person she already\nloved so passionately was of so high a rank. \"Do you really\nmean,\" said she, \"that he is descended from the kings of Persia?\"\n\"Yes, madam,\" replied Ebn Thaher, \"the last kings of Persia were\nhis ancestors, and since the conquest of that kingdom, the\nprinces of his family have always made themselves very acceptable\nat the court of our caliphs.\" \"You will oblige me much,\" added\nshe, \"by making me acquainted with this young nobleman: when I\nsend this woman,\" pointing to one of her slaves, \"to give you\nnotice to come and see me, pray bring him with you; I shall be\nglad to afford him the opportunity of seeing the magnificence of\nmy house, that he may have it in his power to say, that avarice\ndoes not reign at Bagdad among persons of quality. You know what\nI mean.\"\n\nEbn Thaher was a man of too much penetration not to perceive the\nlady's mind by these words: \"My princess, my queen,\" replied he,\n\"God preserve me from giving you any occasion of anger: I shall\nalways make it a law to obey your commands.\" At this answer, the\nlady bowed to Ebn Thaher, and took her leave; and after she had\ngiven a favorable look to the prince of Persia, she remounted her\nmule, and departed.\n\nThe prince of Persia was so deeply in love with the lady, that he\nlooked after her as far as he could; and long after she was out\nof sight directed his eyes that way. Ebn Thaher told him, that he\nremarked several persons observing him, and began to laugh to see\nhim in this posture. \"Alas!\" said the prince, \"the world and you\nwould pity me, if you knew that the beautiful lady, who is just\ngone from you, has carried with her the best part of me, and that\nthe remaining part seeks for an opportunity to go after her. Tell\nme, I conjure you,\" added he, \"what cruel lady is this, who\nforces people to love her, without giving them time to reflect?\"\n\"My lord,\" answered Ebn Thaher, \"this is the celebrated\nSchemselnihar, the principal favourite of the caliph, our\nmaster.\" \"She is justly so called,\" added the prince, \"since she\nis more beautiful than the sun at noonday.\" \"True,\" replied Ebn\nThaher; \"therefore the commander of the faithful loves, or rather\nadores her. He gave me express orders to furnish her with all\nthat she asked for, and to anticipate her wishes as far as lies\nin my power.\"\n\nHe spoke thus to hinder him from engaging in a passion which\ncould not but prove unfortunate to him; but this served only to\ninflame it the more. \"I feared, charming Schemselnihar,\" cried\nhe, \"I should not be allowed so much as to think of you; I\nperceive, however, that without hopes of being loved in return, I\ncannot forbear loving you; I will love you then, and bless my lot\nthat I am the slave of an object fairer than the meridian sun.\"\n\nWhile the prince of Persia thus consecrated his heart to the fair\nSchemselnihar, this lady, as she went home, contrived how she\nmight see, and have free converse with him. She no sooner entered\nher palace, than she sent to Ebn Thaher the woman she had pointed\nout to him, and in whom she placed all her confidence, to tell\nhim to come and see her without delay, and bring the prince of\nPersia with him. The slave came to Ebn Thaher's shop, while he\nwas speaking to the prince, and endeavouring to dissuade him, by\nvery strong arguments, from loving the caliph's favourite. When\nshe saw them together, \"Gentlemen,\" said she, \"my honourable\nmistress Schemselnihar the chief favourite of the commander of\nthe faithful, entreats you to come to her palace, where she waits\nfor you.\" Ebn Thaher, to testify his obedience, rose up\nimmediately, without answering the slave, and followed her, not\nwithout some reluctance. The prince also followed he, without\nreflecting on the danger there might be in such a visit. The\npresence of Ebn Thaher, who had liberty to go to the favourite\nwhen he pleased, made the prince very easy: they followed the\nslave, who went a little before them, and entered after her into\nthe caliph's palace, and joined her at the gate of\nSchemselnihar's pavilion, which was ready open. She introduced\nthem into a great hall, where she prayed them to be seated.\n\nThe prince of Persia thought himself in one of those delicious\npalaces that are promised to us in the other world: he had never\nseen any thing that came near the magnificence of the place. The\ncarpets, cushions, and other appendages of the sofa, the\nfurniture, ornaments, and architecture, were surprisingly rich\nand beautiful. A little time after Ebn Thaher and he had seated\nthemselves, a very handsome black slave brought in a table\ncovered with several delicacies, the admirable smell of which\nevinced how deliciously they were seasoned. While they were\neating, the slave who brought them in waited upon them; she took\nparticular care to invite them to eat of what she knew to be the\ngreatest dainties. The other slaves brought them excellent wine\nafter they had eaten. When they had done, there was presented to\neach of them a gold basin full of water to wash their hands;\nafter which, they brought them a golden pot full of the wood of\naloes, with which they perfumed their beards and clothes.\nOdoriferous water was not forgotten, but served in a golden\nvessel enriched with diamonds and rubies, and it was thrown upon\ntheir beards and faces according to custom; they then resumed\ntheir places, but had scarcely sat down, when the slave entreated\nthem to arise and follow her. She opened a door, and conducted\nthem into a large saloon of wonderful structure. It was a dome of\nthe most agreeable form, supported by a hundred pillars of\nmarble, white as alabaster. The bases and chapiters of the\npillars were adorned with four-footed beasts, and birds of\nvarious sorts, gilded. The carpet of this noble saloon consisted\nof one piece of cloth of gold, embroidered with bunches of roses\nin red and white silk; and the dome painted in the same manner,\nafter the Arabian fashion, presented to the mind one of the most\ncharming objects. In every space between the columns was a little\nsofa adorned in the same manner, and great vessels of china,\ncrystal, jasper, jet, porphyry, agate, and other precious\nmaterials, garnished with gold and jewels; in these spaces were\nalso so many large windows, with balconies projecting breast\nhigh, fitted up as the sofas, and looking out into the most\ndelicious garden; the walks were of little pebbles of different\ncolours, of the same pattern as the carpet of the saloon; so\nthat, looking upon the carpet within and without it seemed as if\nthe dome and the garden with all its ornaments had been upon the\nsame carpet. The prospect was, at the end of the walks,\nterminated by two canals of clear water, of the same circular\nfigure as the dome, one of which being higher than the other,\nemptied its water into the lowermost, in form of a sheet; and\ncurious pots of gilt brass, with flowers and shrubs, were set\nupon the banks of the canals at equal distances. Those walks lay\nbetwixt great plots of ground planted with straight and bushy\ntrees, where a thousand birds formed a melodious concert, and\ndiverted the eye by flying about, and playing together, or\nfighting in the air.\n\nThe prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher were a long time engaged in\nviewing the magnificence of the place, and expressed their\nsurprise at every thing thing saw, especially the prince, who had\nnever beheld any thing like it. Ebn Thaher, though he had been\nseveral times in that delicious place, could not but observe many\nnew beauties, In a word they never grew weary in admiring so many\nsingularities, and were thus agreeably employed, when they\nperceived a company of ladies richly appareled sitting without,\nat some distance from the dome, each of them upon a seat of\nIndian plane wood inlaid with silver filigree in compartments,\nwith instruments of music in their hands, waiting for orders to\nplay. They both went forward, and had a full view of the ladies,\nand on the right they saw a great court with a stair up from the\ngarden, encompassed with beautiful apartments. The slave had left\nthem, and being alone, they conversed together; \"For you, who are\na wise man,\" said the prince of Persia, \"I doubt not but you look\nwith a great deal of satisfaction upon all these marks of\ngrandeur and power; for my part, I do not think there is any\nthing in the world more surprising. But when I consider that this\nis the glorious habitation of the lovely Schemselnihar, and that\nthe greatest monarch of the earth keeps her here, I confess to\nyou that I look upon myself to be the most unfortunate of all\nmankind, and that no destiny can be more cruel than mine, to love\nan object possessed by my rival, and that too in a place where he\nis so potent, that I cannot think myself sure of my life one\nmoment.\"\n\nEbn Thaher, hearing the prince of Persia speak, replied, \"Sir, I\nwish you could give me as good assurance of the happy success of\nyour passion, as I can give you of the safety of your life.\nThough this stately palace belongs to the caliph, who built it on\npurpose for Schemselnihar, and called it the palace of eternal\npleasures, and though it makes part of his own palace, yet you\nmust know that this lady lives here at absolute liberty. She is\nnot beset by eunuchs to be spies upon her; this is her private\nhouse, absolutely at her disposal. She goes into the city when\nshe pleases, and returns again, without asking leave of any body:\nand the caliph never comes to see her, but he sends Mesrour, the\nchief of his eunuchs, to give her notice, that she may be\nprepared to receive him. Therefore you may be easy, and give full\nattention to the concert of music, which, I perceive,\nSchemselnihar is preparing for you.\"\n\nJust as Ebn Thaher had spoken these words, the prince of Persia,\nand he, saw the favourite's trusty slave giving orders to the\nladies to begin to sing, and play with the instruments: they all\nbegan immediately to play together as a prelude, and after they\nhad played some time, one of them began to sing alone, and\naccompanied herself at the same time admirably upon her lute,\nbeing informed beforehand upon what subject she was to sing. The\nwords were so agreeable to the prince of Persia's sentiments,\nthat he could not forbear applauding her at the end of the\ncouplet. \"Is it possible,\" cried he, \"that you have the gift of\nknowing people's hearts, and that the knowledge of what is\npassing in my mind has occasioned you to give us a taste of your\ncharming voice by those words? I should not express myself\notherwise, were I to choose.\" The lady made no reply, but went on\nand sung several other stanzas, with which the prince was so\naffected, that he repeated some of them with tears in his eyes;\nwhich discovered plainly enough that he applied them to himself.\nWhen she had finished, she and her companions rose up and sung a\nchorus, signifying by their words, that the full moon was going\nto rise in all her splendour, and that they should speedily see\nher approach the sun. Intimating, that Schemselnihar was coming,\nand that the prince of Persia would soon have the pleasure of\nbeholding her.\n\nIn fact, as they looked towards the court, they saw\nSchemselnihar's confidant coming towards them, followed by ten\nblack women, who, with much difficulty, carried a throne of\nmassive silver curiously wrought, which they set down before them\nat a certain distance; the black slaves then retired behind the\ntrees, to the entrance of a walk. After this came twenty handsome\nladies richly appareled alike; they advanced in two rows, each\nsinging and playing upon instruments which she held in her hands,\nand placed themselves on each side of the throne.\n\nAll these things kept the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher in so\nmuch the greater expectation, as they were curious to know how\nthey would end. At length they saw advancing from the gate\nthrough which the ten black women had proceeded ten other ladies\nequally handsome, and well dressed, who halted a few moments,\nexpecting the favourite, who came out last, and placed herself in\nthe midst of them.\n\nSchemselnihar was easily distinguished from the rest, by her fine\nshape and majestic air, as well as by a sort of mantle, of a very\nfine stuff of gold and sky-blue, fastened to her shoulders, over\nher other apparel, which was the most handsome, most magnificent,\nand best contrived that could be imagined.\n\nThe pearls, rubies, and diamonds, which adorned her, were well\ndisposed; not many in number, but chosen with taste, and of\ninestimable value. She came forward, with a majesty resembling\nthe sun in its course amidst the clouds, which receive his\nsplendour without hiding his lustre, and sat upon the silver\nthrone that had been brought for her.\n\nAs soon as the prince of Persia saw Schemselnihar, his eyes were\nrivetted on her. \"We cease inquiring,\" said he to Ebn Thaher,\n\"after what we seek, when once it is in view; and no doubt\nremains, when once the truth is made apparent. Do you see this\ncharming beauty? She is the cause of all my sufferings, which I\nbless, and will never forbear to bless, however severe and\nlasting. At the sight of this objets, I am not my own master; my\nsoul is disturbed, and rebels, and seems disposed to leave me. Go\nthen, my soul, I allow thee; but let it be for the welfare and\npreservation of this weak body. It is you, cruel Ebn Thaher, who\nare the cause of this disorder, in bringing me hither. You\nthought to do me a great pleasure; but I perceive I am only come\nto complete my ruin. Pardon me,\" he continued, interrupting\nhimself; \"I am mistaken. I would come, and can blame no one but\nmyself;\" and at these words he burst into tears. \"I am glad,\"\nsaid Ebn Thaher, \"that you do me justice. When I told you at\nfirst, that Schemselnihar was the caliph's chief favourite, I did\nit on purpose to prevent that fatal passion which you please\nyourself with entertaining. All that you see here ought to\ndisengage you, and you are to think of nothing but of\nacknowledging the honour which Schemselnihar has done you, by\nordering me to bring you with me; recall then your wandering\nreason, and prepare to appear before her, as good breeding\nrequires. See, she advances: were we to begin again, I would take\nother measures, but since the thing is done, I pray God we may\nnot have cause to repent. All that I have now to say to you is,\nthat love is a traitor, who may involve you in difficulties from\nwhich you will never be able to extricate yourself.\"\n\nEbn Thaher had no time to say more, because Schemselnihar\napproached, and sitting down upon her throne, saluted them both\nby bowing her head; but she fixed her eyes on the prince of\nPersia, and they spoke to one another in a silent language\nintermixed with sighs; by which in a few moments they spoke more\nthan they could have done by words in a much longer time. The\nmore Schemselnihar, looked upon the prince, the more she found in\nhis looks to confirm her opinion that he was in love with her;\nand being thus persuaded of his passion, thought herself the\nhappiest woman in the world. At last she turned her eyes from\nhim, to command the women, who began to sing first, to come near;\nthey rose, and as they advanced, the black women, who came out of\nthe walk into which they had retired, brought their seats, and\nplaced them near the window, in the front of the dome where Ebn\nThaher and the prince of Persia stood, and their seats were so\ndisposed, that, with the favourite's throne and the women on each\nside of her, they formed a semicircle before them.\n\nThe women, who were sitting before she came resumed their places,\nwith the permission of Schemselnihar, who ordered them by a sign;\nthat charming favourite chose one of those women to sing, who,\nafter she had spent some moments in tuning her lute, sung a song,\nthe meaning whereof was, that when two lovers entirely loved one\nanother with affection boundless, their hearts, though in two\nbodies, were united; and, when any thing opposed their desires,\ncould say with tears in their eyes, \"If we love because we find\none another amiable, ought we to be blamed? Let destiny bear the\nblame.\"\n\nSchemselnihar evinced so plainly by her eyes and gestures that\nthose words were applicable to herself and the prince of Persia,\nthat he could not contain himself. He arose, and advancing to a\nbalustrade, which he leaned upon, beckoned to one of the\ncompanions of the woman who had just done singing, to approach.\nWhen she had got near enough, he said to her, \"Do me the favour\nto accompany me with your lute, in a song which you shall hear me\nsing.\" He then sung with an air so tender and passionate, as\nperfectly expressed the violence of his love. As soon as he had\ndone, Schemselnihar, following his example, said to one of the\nwomen, \"Attend to me likewise, and accompany my song.\" At the\nsame time she sung in such a manner, as more deeply to penetrate\nthe heart of the prince of Persia, who answered her by a new air,\nmore passionate than the former.\n\nThe two lovers having declared their mutual affection by their\nsongs, Schemselnihar yielded to the force of hers. She arose from\nher throne in transport, and advanced towards the door of the\nhall. The prince, who perceived her design, rose up immediately,\nand went to meet her. They met at the door, where they took one\nanother by the hand, and embraced with so much passion, that they\nfainted, and would have fallen, if the woman who followed\nSchemselnihar had not hindered them. They supported them to a\nsofa, where they were brought to themselves, by throwing\nodoriferous water on their faces, and applying pungent odours to\ntheir nostrils.\n\nWhen they had recovered, the first thing Schemselnihar did was to\nlook about: and not seeing Ebn Thaher, she asked, with eagerness,\nwhere he was? He had withdrawn out of respect whilst her women\nwere engaged in recovering her, and dreaded, not without reason,\nthat some disagreeable consequence might follow what he had seen;\nbut as soon as he heard Schemselnihar inquire for him, he came\nforward.\n\nSchemselnihar was much pleased to see Ebn Thaher, and expressed\nher joy in the most obliging terms: \"Ebn Thaher, I know not how\nto make you proper returns for the great obligations you have put\nupon me; without you, I should never have seen the prince of\nPersia, nor have loved the most amiable person in the world.\nAssure yourself I shall not die ungrateful, and that my\ngratitude, if possible, shall be equal to the obligation.\" Ebn\nThaher answered this compliment by a low obeisance, and wished\nthe favourite the accomplishment of all her desires.\n\nSchemselnihar, turning towards the prince of Persia, who sat by\nher, and looking upon him with some confusion after what had\npassed, said to him, \"I am well assured you love me, and how\ngreat soever your love may be to me, you need not doubt but mine\nis as great towards you: but let us not flatter ourselves; for,\nnotwithstanding this conformity of our sentiments, I see nothing\nfor you and me but trouble, impatience, and tormenting grief.\nThere is no other remedy for our evils but to love one another\nconstantly, to refer ourselves to the disposal of Heaven, and to\nwait its determination of our destiny.\" \"Madam,\" replied the\nprince of Persia, \"you will do me the greatest injustice, if you\ndoubt for a moment the continuance of my love. It is so\ninterwoven with my soul, that I can justly say it makes the best\npart of it, and will continue so after death. Pains, torments,\nobstacles, nothing shall prevent my loving you.\" Speaking these\nwords he shed tears in abundance, and Schemselnihar was not able\nto restrain hers.\n\nEbn Thaher took this opportunity to speak to the favourite.\n\"Madam, allow me to represent to you, that, instead of melting\ninto tears, you ought to rejoice that you are now together. I\nunderstand not this grief. What will it be when you are obliged\nto part? But why do I talk of that? We have been a long while\nhere, and you know, madam, it is time for us to be going.\" \"Ah!\nhow cruel are you!\" replied Schemselnihar, \"You, who know the\ncause of my tears, have you no pity for my unfortunate condition?\nOh! sad fatality! What have I done to subject myself to the\nsevere law of not being able to join with the only person I\nlove?\"\n\nPersuaded as she was that Ebn Thaher spoke to her only out of\nfriendship, she did not take amiss what he said, but made a\nproper use of his intimation She made a sign to the slave her\nconfidant, who immediately went out, and in a little time brought\na collation of fruits upon a small silver table, which she set\ndown betwixt her mistress and the prince of Persia. Schemselnihar\ntook some of the best, and presented it to the prince, praying\nhim to eat it for her sake; he took it, and put to his mouth that\npart which she had touched; and then he presented some to her,\nwhich she took, and ate in the same manner. She did not forget to\ninvite Ebn Thaher to eat with them; but he thinking himself not\nsafe in that place, and wishing himself at home, ate only out of\ncomplaisance. After the collation was taken away, they brought a\nsilver basin, with water in a vessel of gold, and washed\ntogether; they afterwards returned to their places, and three of\nthe ten black women brought each a cup of rock crystal full of\nexquisite wine, upon a golden salver; which they placed before\nSchemselnihar, the prince of Persia, and Ebn Thaher. That they\nmight be the more private, Schemselnihar kept with her only ten\nblack women, with ten others who began to sing, and play upon\ninstruments; and after she had sent away all the rest, she took\nup one of the cups, and holding it in her hand sung some tender\nwords, which one of her women accompanied with her lute. When she\nhad done, she drank, and afterwards took up one of the other cups\nand presented it to the prince, praying him to drink for love of\nher, as she had drunk for love of him. He received the cup with a\ntransport of love and joy; but before he drank, he sung also a\nsong, which another woman accompanied with an instrument: and as\nhe sang the tears fell from his eyes in such abundance, that he\ncould not forbear expressing in his song, that he knew not\nwhether he was going to drink the wine she had presented to him,\nor his own tears. Schemselnihar at last presented the third cup\nto Ebn Thaher, who thanked her for her kindness, and for the\nhonour she did him.\n\nAfter this she took a lute from one of her women, and sung to it\nin such a passionate manner, that she seemed to be transported\nout of herself: and the prince of Persia stood with his eyes\nfixed upon her, as if he had been enchanted. At this instant, her\ntrusty slave came in great alarm, and addressing herself to her\nmistress, said, \"Madam Mesrour and two other officers, with\nseveral eunuchs that attend them, are at the gate, and want to\nspeak with you from the caliph.\" When the prince of Persia and\nEbn Thaher heard these words, they changed colour, and began to\ntremble as if they had been undone: but Schemselnihar who\nperceived their agitation, revived their courage by a sigh.\n\nAfter Schemselnihar had quieted the fears of the prince of Persia\nand Ebn Thaher, she ordered the slave, her confidant, to go and\nspeak to Mesrour, and the two other officers, till she had put\nherself in a condition to receive them, and could send her to\nintroduce them. Immediately she ordered all the windows of' the\nsaloon to be shut, and the painted cloth on the side of the\ngarden to be let down: and after having assured the prince and\nEbn Thaher that they might continue there without any fear, she\nwent out at the gate leading to the garden, and closed it upon\nthem: but whatever assurance she had given them of their safety,\nthey were full of apprehension all the while they remained there.\n\nAs soon as Schemselnihar had reached the garden with the women\nthat had followed her, she ordered all the seats, which served\nthe women who played on the instruments, to be placed near the\nwindow, where the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher heard them; and\nhaving got things in order, she sat down upon her silver throne:\nshe then sent notice to the slave her confidant to bring in the\nchief of the eunuchs, and his two subaltern officers.\n\nThey appeared, followed by twenty black eunuchs all handsomely\nclothed, with cimeters by their sides, and gold belts of four\ninches broad. As soon as they perceived the favourite\nSchemselnihar at a distance, they made her a profound reverence,\nwhich she returned them from her throne. When they approached,\nshe arose and went to meet Mesrour, who advanced first; she asked\nwhat news he brought? He answered, \"Madam, the commander of the\nfaithful has sent me to signify that he cannot live longer\nwithout seeing you; he designs to do himself that pleasure this\nnight, and I am come to give you notice, that you may be ready to\nreceive him. He hopes, madam, that you will receive him with as\nmuch pleasure as he feels impatience to see you.\"\n\nAt these words the favourite Schemselnihar prostrated herself to\nthe ground, as a mark of that submission with which she received\nthe caliph's order. When she rose, she said, \"Pray tell the\ncommander of the faithful, that I shall always reckon it my glory\nto execute his majesty's commands, and that his slave will do her\nutmost to receive him with all the respect that is due to him.\"\nAt the same time she ordered the slave her confidant to tell the\nblack women appointed for that service to get the palace ready to\nreceive the caliph, and dismissing the chief of the eunuchs, said\nto him, \"You see it requires some time to get all things ready,\ntherefore I entreat you to curb his majesty's impatience, that,\nwhen he arrives, he may not find things out of order.\"\n\nThe chief of the eunuchs and his retinue being gone,\nSchemselnihar returned to the saloon, extremely concerned at the\nnecessity she was under of sending back the prince of Persia\nsooner than she had intended. She came up to him again with tears\nin her eyes, which heightened Ebn Thaher's fear, who thought it\nno good omen. \"Madam,\" said the prince to her, \"I perceive you\nare come to tell me that we must part: if there be nothing more\nto dread, I hope Heaven will give me the patience which is\nnecessary to support your absence.\" \"Alas!\" replied the too\ntender Schemselnihar, \"how happy do I think you, and how unhappy\ndo I think myself, when I compare your lot with my sad destiny!\nNo doubt you will suffer by my absence, but that is all, and you\nmay comfort yourself with hopes of seeing me again; but as for\nme, just Heaven! what a terrible trial am I brought to! I must\nnot only be deprived of the sight of the only person whom I love,\nbut I must be tormented with the presence of one whom you have\nmade hateful to me. Will not the arrival of the caliph put me in\nmind of your departure? And how can I, when I am taken up with\nyour dear image, express to that prince the joy which he always\nobserved in my eyes whenever he came to see me? I shall have my\nmind perplexed when I speak to him, and the least complaisance\nwhich I shew to his love will stab me to the heart. Can I relish\nhis kind words and caresses? Think, prince, to what torments I\nshall be exposed when I can see you no more.\" Her tears and sighs\nhindered her from going on, and the prince of Persia would have\nreplied, but his own grief, and that of his mistress, deprived\nhim of the power of speech.\n\nEbn Thaher, who only wished to get out of the palace, was obliged\nto comfort them, and to exhort them to have patience: but the\ntrusty slave again interrupted them. \"Madam,\" said she to\nSchemselnihar, \"you have no time to lose; the eunuchs begin to\narrive, and you know the caliph will be here immediately.\" \"O\nHeaven! how cruel is this separation!\" cried the favourite. \"Make\nhaste,\" said she to the confidant, \"take them both to the gallery\nwhich looks into the garden on the one side, and to the Tigris on\nthe other; and when the night grows dark, let them out by the\nback gate, that they may retire with safety.\" Having spoken thus,\nshe tenderly embraced the prince of Persia, without being able to\nsay one word more, and went to meet the caliph in such disorder\nas cannot well be imagined.\n\nIn the mean time, the trusty slave conducted the prince and Ebn\nThaher to the gallery, as Schemselnihar had appointed; and left\nthem there, assuring them, as she closed the door upon them, that\nthey had nothing to fear, and that she would come for them when\nit was time.\n\nWhen Schemselnihar's trusty slave had left the prince of Persia\nand Ebn Thaher, they forgot she had assured them they had nothing\nto apprehend. They examined the gallery, and were seized with\nextreme fear, because they knew no means of escape, if the caliph\nor any of his officers should happen to come there.\n\nA great light, which they suddenly beheld through the lattices on\nthe garden side, caused them to approach them to see from whence\nit came. It was occasioned by a hundred flambeaux of white wax,\ncarried by as many young eunuchs: these were followed by more\nthan a hundred others, who guarded the ladies of the caliph's\npalace, clothed, and armed with cimeters, in the same manner as\nthose I spoke of before; and the caliph came after them, betwixt\nMesrour their captain on his right, and Vassif their second\nofficer on his left hand.\n\nSchemselnihar waited for the caliph at the entrance of a walk,\naccompanied by twenty women all of surprising beauty, adorned\nwith necklaces and ear-rings of large diamonds; they played and\nsung on their instruments, and formed a charming concert. The\nfavourite no sooner saw the prince appear, but she advanced and\nprostrated herself at his feet; and while she was doing this,\n\"Prince of Persia,\" said she, within herself, \"if your sad eyes\nwitness what I do, judge of my hard lot; if I were humbling\nmyself so before you, my heart would feel no reluctance.\"\n\nThe caliph was delighted to see Schemselnihar: \"Rise, madam,\"\nsaid he to her, \"come near, I am angry with myself that I should\nhave deprived myself so long of the pleasure of seeing you.\" As\nhe spoke, he took her by the hand, and, with many tender\nexpressions, went and sat down upon the silver throne which\nSchemselnihar caused to be brought for him, and she sat down on a\nseat before him. The twenty women made a circle round them upon\nother seats, while the young eunuchs, who carried flambeaux,\ndispersed themselves at a certain distance from one another, that\nthe caliph might the better enjoy the cool of the evening.\n\nWhen the caliph had seated himself, he looked round him, and\nbeheld with great satisfaction the garden illuminated with many\nother lights, besides those flambeaux which the young eunuchs\nheld; but taking notice that the saloon was shut, expressed his\nsurprise, and demanded the reason. It was done on purpose to\nsurprise him; for he had no sooner spoken, than all the windows\nflew open at once, and he saw it illuminated within and without,\nin a much better manner than ever he had beheld it before.\n\"Charming Schemselnihar,\" cried he, at this sight, \"I understand\nyou; you would have me know there are as fine nights as days.\nAfter what I have seen, I cannot deny this.\"\n\nLet us return to the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher, whom we\nleft in the gallery. Ebn Thaher could not enough admire all that\nhe saw: \"I am not young,\" said he, \"and I have seen great\nentertainments in my time; but I do not think any thing can be\nseen so surprising and magnificent! All that is said of enchanted\npalaces does not come up to the prodigious spectacle we now\nbehold. What riches and magnificence united!\"\n\nThe prince of Persia was not at all interested by the objects\nwhich so delighted Ebn Thaher; he could look on nothing but\nSchemselnihar, and the presence of the caliph threw him into\ninconceivable grief. \"Dear Ebn Thaher,\" he exclaimed, \"would to\nGod I had my mind as much at liberty to attend to those objects\nof admiration as you! But alas! I am in a quite different\nsituation, all these things serve only to increase my torment.\nCan I see the caliph familiar with the objets of my love, and not\ndie of grief? Must so ardent a passion as mine be disturbed with\nso potent a rival? O heavens! How cruel and strange is my\ndestiny! It is but a moment since I esteemed myself the most\nfortunate lover in the world, and at this instant I feel a death\nstroke to my heart. I cannot resist it, my dear Ebn Thaher; my\npatience is exhausted, my disorder overwhelms me, and my courage\nfails.\" While he was speaking, he saw something pass in the\ngarden, which obliged him to be silent and to turn all his\nattention that way.\n\nThe caliph had ordered one of the women, who was near him, to\nplay upon her lute, and she began to sing. The words she sung\nwere very passionate, and the caliph, persuaded that she sung\nthus by order of Schemselnihar, who had frequently entertained\nhim with the like testimonies of her affection, interpreted them\nin his own favour. But this was not now Schemselnihar's meaning;\nshe applied them to her dear Ali Ebn Becar, and was so sensibly\ntouched with grief, to have before her an object whose presence\nshe could no longer enjoy, that she fainted and fell backwards\nupon her seat, which having no arms to support her, she must have\nfallen, had not some of the women given her timely assistance,\ntaken her up, and carried her into the saloon.\n\nEbn Thaher, who was in the gallery, being surprised at this\naccident, turned towards the prince of Persia; but instead of\nfinding him standing, and looking through the window as before,\nhe was extremely amazed to discover him lying at his feet\nmotionless. This convinced him of the violence of the prince's\npassion for Schemselnihar, and he admired that strange effect of\nsympathy, which put him into a mortal fear on account of the\nplace they were in. He did all he could to recover the prince,\nbut in vain. Ebn Thaher was in this perplexity, when\nSchemselnihar's confidant opened the gallery door, and entered\nout of breath, as one who knew not where she was. \"Come\nspeedily,\" cried she \"that I may let you out; all is in confusion\nhere; and I fear this will be the last of our days.\" \"Alas! how\nwould you have us go?\" replied Ebn Thaher, with a mournful voice;\n\"approach, and see what a condition the prince of Persia is in.\"\nWhen the slave saw him in a swoon, she ran for water, and\nreturned in an instant.\n\nAt last the prince of Persia, after they had thrown water on his\nface, recovered. \"Prince,\" said Ebn Thaher to him, \"we run the\nrisk of perishing if we stay here any longer; exert yourself,\ntherefore, let us endeavour to save our lives.\" He was so feeble,\nthat he could not rise alone; Ebn Thaher and the confidant lent\nhim their hands, and supported him on each side. They reached a\nlittle iron gate which opened towards the Tigris, went out at it,\nand came to the side of a little canal which communicated with\nthe river. The confidant clapped her hands, and immediately a\nlittle boat appeared, and came towards them with one rower. Ali\nEbn Becar and his comrade went aboard, and the confidant remained\nat the side of the canal. As soon as the prince was seated in the\nboat, he stretched out one hand towards the palace, and laying\nthe other on his heart, exclaimed with a feeble voice, \"Dear\nobject of my soul, receive my faith with this hand, while I\nassure you with the other, that my heart shall for ever preserve\nthe fire with which it burns for you.\"\n\nIn the mean time the boatman rowed with all his might, and\nSchemselnihar's confidant accompanied the prince of Persia and\nEbn Thaher walking along the side of the canal, until they came\nto the Tigris, and when she could go no farther she took leave of\nthem and returned.\n\nThe prince of Persia continued very feeble. Ebn Thaher comforted\nhim, and exhorted him to take courage. \"Consider,\" said he, \"that\nwhen we are landed, we have a great way to walk before we reach\nmy house, and I would not advise you to go to your palace, which\nis a great deal farther, at this hour and in this condition.\" At\nlast they went out of the boat, but the prince had so little\nstrength that he could not walk, which put Ebn Thaher into great\nperplexity. He recollected he had a friend in the neighbourhood,\nand carried the prince thither with great difficulty. His friend\nreceived him very cheerfully, and when he had made them sit down,\nhe asked them where they had been so late. Ebn Thaher answered,\n\"I heard this evening that a man who owed me a considerable sum\nof money was setting out on a long voyage. I lost no time to find\nhim, and by the way I met with this young nobleman, to whom I am\nunder a thousand obligations; for knowing my debtor, he did me\nthe favour to go along with me. We had a great deal of trouble to\nbring the man to reason. We have at length succeeded, and that is\nthe cause of our being so late. In our return home, this good\nlord, to whom I am for ever bound to shew all possible respect,\nwas attacked by a sudden illness, which made me take the liberty\nto knock at your door, flattering myself that you would be\npleased to lodge us this night.\"\n\nEbn Thaher's friend took all this for truth, told them they were\nwelcome, and offered the prince of Persia, whom he knew not, all\nthe assistance he could desire; but Ebn Thaher spoke for the\nprince, and said, that his distemper was of such a nature as to\nrequire nothing but rest. His friend understood by this that they\ndesired to go to bed. Upon which he conducted them to an\napartment, where he left them.\n\nThough the prince of Persia slept, he was interrupted by\ntroublesome dreams, which represented Schemselnihar in a swoon at\nthe caliph's feet, and increased his affliction. Ebn Thaher was\nvery impatient to be at home, and doubted not but his family was\nunder great apprehension, because he never used to sleep out. He\narose and departed early in the morning, after he had taken leave\nof his friend, who rose at break of day to prayers At last he\nreached his house, and the first thing the prince of Persia did,\nwho had walked so far with much trouble, was to lie down upon a\nsofa, as weary as if he had been a long journey. Not being in a\nstate to go to his own palace, Ebn Thaher ordered a chamber to be\nprepared for him, and sent to acquaint his friends with his\ncondition, and where he was. In the mean time he begged him to\ncompose himself, to command in his house, and to dispose of all\nthings as he pleased. \"I thank you heartily for your obliging\noffers,\" said the prince; \"but that I may not be any ways\ntroublesome to you, I conjure you to deal with me as if I were\nnot at your house. I would not stay one moment, if I thought my\npresence would incommode you in the least.\"\n\nAs soon as Ebn Thaher had time to recollect himself, he told his\nfamily all that had passed at Schemselnihar's palace, and\nconcluded by thanking God, who had delivered him from the danger\nhe had been in. The prince of Persia's principal domestics came\nto receive his orders at Ebn Thaher's house, and in a little time\nthere arrived several of his friends, who had notice of his\nindisposition. Those friends passed the greatest part of the day\nwith him; and though their conversation could not extinguish\nthose melancholy ideas which were the cause of his trouble, yet\nit afforded him some relief. He would have taken his leave of Ebn\nThaher towards the evening; but this faithful friend found him\nstill so weak, that he obliged him to stay till next day, and in\nthe mean time, to divert him, gave a concert of vocal and\ninstrumental music in the evening; but this concert served only\nto remind him of the preceding night, and renewed his trouble,\ninstead of assuaging it; so that next day his distemper seemed to\nincrease. Upon this Ebn Thaher did not oppose his going home, but\ntook care to accompany him; and when he was with him alone in his\nchamber, he represented to him all those arguments which might\ninfluence him to a generous effort to overcome his passion, which\nin the end would neither prove fortunate to himself nor to the\nfavourite. \"Ah! dear Ebn Thaher,\" exclaimed the prince, \"how easy\nis it for you to give this advice, but how hard for me to follow\nit! I am sensible of its importance, but am not able to profit by\nit. I have said already, that I shall carry to the grave the love\nI bear to Schemselnihar.\" When Ebn Thaher saw that he could gain\nnothing upon the prince, he took his leave, and would have\nretired.\n\nThe prince of Persia interrupted him, and said, \"Kind Ebn Thaher,\nsince I have declared to you that it is not in my power to follow\nyour wise counsels, I beg you would not charge it on me as a\ncrime, nor forbear to give me the usual testimonies of your\nfriendship. You cannot do me a greater favour than to inform me\nof the destiny of my dear Schemselnihar, when you hear of her.\nThe uncertainty I am in concerning her fate, and the\napprehensions her fainting have occasioned in me, keep me in this\nlanguishing condition you reproach me with.\" \"My lord,\" answered\nEbn Thaher, \"you have reason to hope that her fainting was not\nattended with any bad consequences: her confidant will quickly\ncome and inform me of the issue; and as soon as I know the\nparticulars, I will not fail to impart them.\"\n\nEbn Thaher left the prince in this hope, and returned home, where\nhe expected Schemselnihar's confidant all the rest of the day,\nbut in vain, nor did she come on the following. His uneasiness to\nknow the state of the prince of Persia's health would not suffer\nhim to wait any longer without seeing him. He went to his palace\nto exhort him to patience, and found him lying on his bed as ill\nas ever, surrounded by a great many of his friends, and several\nphysicians, who used all their art to discover the cause of his\ndisorder. As soon as he saw Ebn Thaher, he looked at him with a\nsmile, to signify that he had two things to tell him; the one,\nthat he was glad to see him; the other how much the physicians,\nwho could not discover the cause of his illness, were out in\ntheir reasonings.\n\nHis friends and physicians retired one after another, so that Ebn\nThaher being alone with him, approached his bed to ask him how he\nhad been since he had last seen him. \"I must tell you,\" answered\nthe prince, \"that my passion, which continually gathers new\nstrength, and the uncertainty of the lovely Schemselnihar's fate,\naugment my disorder every moment, and cast me into such a state\nas afflicts my kindred and friends, and breaks the measures of my\nphysicians, who do not understand it. You cannot think,\" he\nadded, \"how much I suffer by seeing so many people about me, who\nimportune me, and whom I cannot in civility put away. Your\ncompany alone relieves me; but I conjure you not to dissemble\nwith me: what news do you bring of Schemselnihar? Have you seen\nher confidant? What says she to you?\" Ebn Thaher answered, that\nhe had not seen her yet. No sooner had he communicated to the\nprince of Persia this sad intelligence, than the tears came into\nhis eyes; he could not answer one word, his heart was so\noppressed. \"Prince,\" added Ebn Thaher, \"suffer me to tell you,\nthat you are too ingenious in tormenting yourself. In the name of\nGod, wipe away your tears: if any of your people should come in,\nthey would discover you by this, notwithstanding the care you\nought to take to conceal your thoughts.\" Whatever his judicious\nadviser could say, it was not possible for the prince to refrain\nfrom weeping. \"Wise Ebn Thaher,\" said he, when he had recovered\nhis speech, \"I may indeed hinder my tongue from revealing the\nsecrets of my heart, but I have no power over my tears, upon such\nan alarming subject as Schemselnihar's danger. If that adorable\nand only objets of my desires be no longer in the world, I shall\nnot survive her a moment.\" \"Reject so afflicting a thought,\"\nreplied Ebn Thaher; \"Schemselnihar is yet alive, you need not\ndoubt it: if you have heard no news of her, it is because she\ncould find no opportunity to send to you, and I hope you will\nhear from her to-day.\" To this he added several other consoling\narguments, and then withdrew.\n\nEbn Thaher had scarcely reached his own house, when\nSchemselnihar's confidant arrived with a melancholy countenance,\nwhich he reckoned a bad omen. He asked news of her mistress.\n\"Tell me yours first,\" said the confidant, \"for I was in great\ntrouble to see the prince of Persia go away in that condition.\"\nEbn Thaher told her all that she wished to know, and when he had\ndone, the slave began thus: \"If the prince of Persia has\nsuffered, and does still suffer for my mistress, she suffers no\nless for him. After I departed from you, I returned to the\nsaloon, where I found Schemselnihar not yet recovered from her\nswoon, notwithstanding all the assistance they endeavoured to\ngive her. The caliph was sitting near her with all the signs of\nreal grief. He asked all the women, and me in particular, if we\nknew the cause of her disorder; but we kept all secret, and told\nhim we were altogether ignorant of it. In the mean time we all\nwept to see her suffer so long, and forgot nothing that might any\nways relieve her. In a word, it was almost midnight before she\ncame to herself. The caliph, who had the patience to wait the\nevent, was rejoiced at her recovery, and asked Schemselnihar the\ncause of her illness. As soon as she heard him speak, she\nendeavoured to recover her seat; and after she had kissed his\nfeet, before he could hinder her, 'Sir,' said she, 'I have reason\nto complain of heaven, that it did not allow me to expire at your\nmajesty's feet to testify thereby how sensible I am of your\nfavours.'\n\n\"'I am persuaded you love me,' replied the caliph, 'and I command\nyou to preserve yourself for my sake. You have probably exceeded\nin something to-day, which has occasioned this indisposition;\ntake care, I entreat you; abstain from it for the future. I am\nglad to see you better, and advise you to stay here to-night, and\nnot return to your chamber, for fear the motion should affect\nyou.' He then commanded a little wine to be brought to strengthen\nher; and taking leave of her, returned to his apartment.\n\n\"As soon as the caliph had departed, my mistress gave me a sign\nto come near her. She asked me earnestly concerning you: I\nassured her that you had been gone a long time, which made her\neasy on that head. I took care not to speak of the prince of\nPersia's fainting, lest she should fall into the same state, from\nwhich we had so much trouble to recover her: but my precautions\nwere in vain, as you shall hear. 'Prince,' exclaimed she, 'I\nhenceforth renounce all pleasure as long as I am deprived of the\nsight of you. If I have understood your heart right, I only\nfollow your example. You will not cease to weep and mourn until I\nsee you.' At these words, which she uttered in a manner\nexpressive of the violence of her passion, she fainted a second\ntime in my arms.\n\n\"My companions and I were a long time recovering her; at last she\ncame to herself; and then I said to her, 'Madam, are you resolved\nto kill yourself, and to make us also die with you? I entreat\nyou, in the name of the prince of Persia, who is so deeply\ninterested in your life, to preserve it.' 'I am much obliged to\nyou,' replied she, 'for your care, your zeal, and your advice;\nbut alas! they are useless to me: you are not to flatter us with\nany hopes, for we can expect no end of our torment but in the\ngrave.'\n\n\"One of my companions would have diverted these sad thoughts by\nplaying on the lute, but she commanded her to be silent, and\nordered all of them to retire, except me, whom she kept all night\nwith her. O heavens! what a night it was! she passed it in tears\nand groans, and incessantly naming the prince of Persia. She\nlamented her lot, that had destined her to the caliph, whom she\ncould not love, and not for him whom she loved so dearly.\n\n\"Next morning, as she was not commodiously lodged in the saloon,\nI helped her to her chamber, which she had no sooner reached,\nthan all the physicians of the palace came to see her, by order\nof the caliph, who was not long before he arrived himself. The\nmedicines which the physicians prescribed to Schemselnihar were\nineffectual, because they were ignorant of the cause of her\nmalady, which was augmented by the presence of the caliph. She\ngot a little rest however this night, and as soon as she awoke,\nshe charged me to come to you, to learn some news of the prince\nof Persia.\" \"I have already informed you of his case,\" said Ebn\nThaher; \"so return to your mistress, and assure her, that the\nprince of Persia waits for some account of her with an impatience\nequal to her own. Above all, exhort her to moderation, and to\novercome her feelings, for fear she should drop before the caliph\nsome word, which may prove fatal to us all.\" \"As for me,\" replied\nthe confidant, \"I confess I dread her transports. I have taken\nthe liberty to tell her my mind, and am persuaded that she will\nnot take it ill that I tell her this from you.\"\n\nEbn Thaher, who had but just come from the prince of Persia's\nlodgings, thought it not convenient to return so soon, and\nneglect his own important affairs; he therefore went not till the\nevening. The prince was alone, and no better than in the morning.\n\"Ebn Thaher,\" said he to him, as soon as he saw him, \"you have\ndoubtless many friends, but they do not know your worth, which\nyou discover to me by your zeal, your care, and the trouble you\ngive yourself to oblige me. I am confounded with all that you do\nfor me with so much affection, and I know not how I shall be able\nto express my gratitude.\" \"Prince,\" answered Ebn Thaher, \"do not\nspeak thus, I entreat you. I am ready, not only to give one of my\neyes to save one of yours, but to sacrifice my life for you. But\nthis is not the present business. I come to tell you that\nSchemselnihar sent her confidant to ask me about you, and at the\nsame time to inform me of her condition. You may assure yourself\nthat I said nothing but what might confirm the excess of your\npassion for her mistress, and the constancy with which you love\nher.\" Then Ebn Thaher gave him a particular account of all that\nhad passed betwixt the trusty slave and him. The prince listened\nwith all the different emotions of fear, jealousy, affection, and\ncompassion, which this conversation could inspire, making, upon\nevery thing which he heard, all the afflicting or comforting\nreflections that so passionate a lover was capable of.\n\nTheir conversation continued so long that the night was far\nadvanced, so that the prince of Persia obliged Ebn Thaher to stay\nwith him. The next morning, as this trusty friend returned home,\nthere came a woman to him whom he knew to be Schemselnihar's\nconfidant, and immediately she spoke to him thus: \"My mistress\nsalutes you, and I am come to entreat you in her name to deliver\nthis letter to the prince of Persia.\" The zealous Ebn Thaher took\nthe letter, and returned to the prince, accompanied by the\nconfidant slave.\n\nWhen Ebn Thaher entered the prince of Persia's house with\nSchemselnihar's confidant, he prayed her to stay, and wait for\nhim a moment in the ante-room. As soon as the prince saw him, he\nasked earnestly what news he had to communicate? \"The best you\ncan expect,\" answered Ebn Thaher: \"you are as dearly beloved as\nyou love; Schemselnihar's confidant is in your anteroom; she has\nbrought you a letter from her mistress, and waits for your orders\nto come in.\" \"Let her enter,\" cried the prince, with a transport\nof joy; and so saying, sat up to receive her.\n\nThe prince's attendants retired as soon as they saw Ebn Thaher,\nand left him alone with their master. Ebn Thaher opened the door\nhimself, and brought in the confidant. The prince knew her, and\nreceived her with great politeness. \"My lord,\" said she to him,\n\"I am sensible of the affliction you have endured since I had the\nhonour to conduct you to the boat which waited to bring you back;\nbut I hope the letter I have brought will contribute to your\ncure.\" So saying, she presented him the letter. He took it, and\nafter he had kissed it several times, opened it, and read as\nfollows:\n\n\nLetter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.\n\n\"The person who will deliver to you this letter will give you more\ncorrect information concerning me than I can, for I have not been\nmyself since I saw you. Deprived of your presence, I endeavour to\ndeceive myself by conversing with you by these ill-written lines, with\nthe same pleasure as if I had the happiness of speaking to you in\nperson.\n\n\"It is said that patience is a cure for all evils, but instead of\nrelieving it heightens my sufferings. Although your picture is\ndeeply engraver in my heart, my eyes desire to have the original\ncontinually before them; and they will lose all their light, if\nthey be any considerable time deprived of this felicity. May I\nflatter myself that yours have the same impatience to see me?\nYes, I can; their tender glances have sufficiently assured me of\nthis. How happy, prince, would it be for you, how happy for\nSchemselnihar, if our united desires were not thwarted by\ninvincible obstacles; obstacles which afflict me the more\nsensibly as they affect you.\n\n\"These thoughts which my fingers write, and which I express with\nincredible pleasure, repeating them again and again, proceed from\nthe bottom of my heart, and from the incurable wound which you\nhave made in it; a wound which I bless a thousand times,\nnotwithstanding the cruel torments I endure through your absence.\nI would reckon all that opposes our love nothing, were I only\nallowed to see you sometimes with freedom; I should then enjoy\nyour company, and what could I desire more?\n\n\"Do not imagine that I say more than I think. Alas! whatever\nexpressions I use, I feel that I think more than I can tell you.\nMy eyes, which are continually watching and weeping for your\nreturn; my afflicted heart, which desires you alone; the sighs\nthat escape me as often as I think on you, and that is every\nmoment; my imagination, which represents no other object to me\nthan my dear prince; the complaints that I make to heaven for the\nrigour of my destiny; in a word, my grief, my distress, my\ntorments, which have allowed me no ease since I was deprived of\nyour presence, will vouch for what I write.\n\n\"Am not I unhappy to be born to dove, without hope of enjoying\nthe object of my passion? This afflicting thought oppresses me so\nthat I should die, were I not persuaded that you love me: but\nthis sweet comfort balances my despair, and preserves my life.\nTell me that you love me always. I will keep your letter\ncarefully, and read it a thousand times a-day: I shall endure my\nafflictions with less impatience: I pray heaven may cease to be\nangry at us, and grant us an opportunity to say that we love one\nanother without fear; and that we shall never cease thus to love.\nAdieu. I salute Ebn Thaher, to whom we are so much obliged.\"\n\nThe prince of Persia was not satisfied with reading the letter\nonce; he thought he had perused it with too little attention, and\ntherefore read it again with more leisure; and while so doing,\nsometimes heaved deep sighs, sometimes shed tears, and sometimes\nbroke out into transports of joy and tenderness as the contents\naffected him. In short, he could not keep his eyes off those\ncharacters drawn by so beloved a hand, and was beginning to read\nit a third time, when Ebn Thaher observed to him that the\nconfidant had no time to lose, and that he ought to think of\ngiving an answer. \"Alas!\" cried the prince, \"how would you have\nme reply to so kind a letter! In what terms shall I express\nmyself in my present disturbed state! My mind is tossed with a\nthousand tormenting thoughts, which are lost the moment they are\nconceived, to make way for others. So long as my body is\ninfluenced by the impressions of my mind, how shall I be able to\nhold the paper, or guide a reed to write.\"\n\nSo saying, he took out of a little desk which was near him,\npaper, a cane ready cut, and an inkhorn.\n\nThe prince of Persia, before he began to write, gave\nSchemselnihar's letter to Ebn Thaher, and prayed him to hold it\nopen while he wrote, that by casting his eyes upon it he might\nthe better see what to answer. He began to write; but the tears\nthat fell from his eyes upon the paper obliged him several times\nto stop, that they might fall the more freely. At last he\nfinished his letter, and giving it to Ebn Thaher, \"Read it, I\npray,\" said he, \"and do me the favour to see if the disorder of\nmy mind has allowed me to give a favourable answer.\" Ebn Thaher\ntook it, and read as follows:\n\n\nThe Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselnihar's Letter.\n\n\"I was plunged in the deepest grief when I received your letter,\nbut at the sight of it I was transported with unspeakable joy.\nWhen I beheld the characters written by your fair hand, my eyes\nwere enlightened by a stronger light than they lost, when yours\nwere suddenly closed at the feet of my rival. The words contained\nin your kind epistle are so many rays which have dispelled the\ndarkness wherewith my soul was obscured; they shew me how much\nyou suffer from your love of me, and that you are not ignorant of\nwhat I endure on your account. Thus they comfort me in my\nafflictions. On the one hand they cause me to shed tears in\nabundance; and on the other, inflame my heart with a fire which\nsupports it, and prevents my dying of grief. I have not had one\nmoment's rest since our cruel separation. Your letter alone gave\nme some ease. I kept a mournful silence till the moment I\nreceived it, and then recovered my speech. I was buried in\nprofound melancholy, but it inspired me with joy, which\nimmediately appeared in my eyes and countenance. But my surprise\nat receiving a favour which I had not yet deserved was so great,\nthat I knew not how to begin to testify my thankfulness. In a\nword, after having kissed it several times, as a precious pledge\nof your goodness, I read it over and over, and was confounded at\nthe excess of my good fortune. You would have me declare that I\nalways love you. Ah! did I not love you so perfectly as I do, I\ncould not forbear adoring you, after all the marks you have given\nme of an affection so uncommon: yes, I love you, my dear soul,\nand shall account it my glory to burn all my days with that sweet\nfire you have kindled in my heart. I will never complain of that\nardour with which I feel it consumes me: and how rigorous soever\nthe evils I suffer, I will bear them with fortitude, in hopes\nsome time or other to see you. Would to heaven it were to-day,\nand that, instead of sending you my letter, I might be allowed to\ncome and assure you in person, that I die for you! My tears\nhinder me from saying more. Adieu.\"\n\n\nEbn Thaher could not read these last lines without weeping. He\nreturned the letter to the prince of Persia, and assured him it\nwanted no correction. The prince closed it, and when he had\nsealed it, he desired the trusty slave to come near, and said to\nher, \"This is my answer to you dear mistress's letter. I conjure\nyou to carry it to her, and to salute her in my name.\" The slave\ntook the letter, and retired with Ebn Thaher.\n\nAfter Ebn Thaher had walked some way with the slave, he left her,\nand went to his house, and began to think in earnest upon the\namorous intrigue in which he found himself unhappily engaged. He\nconsidered, that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar,\nnotwithstanding their interest to conceal their correspondence,\nconducted themselves with so little discretion, that it could not\nbe long a secret. He drew all the consequences from it, which a\nman of good sense might have anticipated. \"Were Schemselnihar,\"\nsaid he to himself, \"a lady of common rank, I would contribute\nall in my power to make her and her lover happy; but she is the\ncaliph's favourite, and no man can without danger attempt to\nengage the affections of the objets of his choice. His anger\nwould fall in the first instance on Schemselnihar; it will next\ncost the prince of Persia his life, and I should be involved in\nhis misfortune. In the mean time I have my honour, my quiet, my\nfamily, and my property to preserve. I must, while I can,\nextricate myself out of such a perilous situation.\"\n\nThese thoughts occupied his mind all that day. Next morning he\nwent to the prince of Persia, with a design of making one more\neffort to induce him to conquer his passion. He represented to\nhim what he had before urged in vain; that it would be much\nbetter for him to summon all his resolution, to overcome his\ninclination for Schemselnihar, than to suffer himself to be\nhurried away by it; and that his passion was so much the more\ndangerous, as his rival was powerful. \"In short, sir,\" added he,\n\"if you will hearken to me, you ought to think of nothing but to\ntriumph over your love; otherwise you run the risk of destroying\nyourself with Schemselnihar, whose life ought to be dearer to you\nthan your own. I give you this advice as a friend, for which you\nwill some time or other thank me.\"\n\nThe prince heard Ebn Thaher with great impatience, but suffered\nhim to speak his mind, and then replied to him thus: \"Ebn Thaher,\ndo you think I can cease to love Schemselnihar, who loves me so\ntenderly? She is not afraid to expose her life for me, and would\nyou have me regard mine? No; whatever misfortunes befall me, I\nwill love Schemselnihar to my last breath.\"\n\nEbn Thaher, shocked at the obstinacy of the prince of Persia,\nleft him hastily, and going to his own house, recalled his former\nreflections, and began to think seriously what he should do. In\nthe mean time a jeweller, one of his intimate friends, came to\nsee him. The jeweller had perceived that Schemselnihar's\nconfidant came oftener to Ebn Thaher than usual, and that he was\nconstantly with the prince of Persia, whose sickness was known to\nevery one, though not the cause. This had awakened the jeweller's\nsuspicions, and finding Ebn Thaher very pensive, he presently\njudged that he was perplexed with some important affair, and\nfancying that he knew the cause, he asked what Schemselnihar's\nconfidant wanted with him? Ebn Thaher being struck with this\nquestion, would have dissembled, and told him, that it was on\nsome trifling errand she came so frequently to him. \"You do not\ntell me the truth,\" said the jeweller, \"and your dissimulation\nonly serves to prove to me that this trifle is a more important\naffair than at first I thought it to be.\"\n\nEbn Thaher, perceiving that his friend pressed him so much, said\nto him, \"It is true, that it is an affair of the greatest\nconsequence. I had resolved to keep it secret, but since I know\nhow much you are my friend, I choose rather to make you my\nconfidant, than to suffer you to be under a mistake about it. I\ndo not bind you to secrecy, for you will easily judge by what I\nam going to tell you how impossible it is to keep it unknown.\"\nAfter this preamble, he told him the amour between Schemselnihar\nand the prince of Persia. \"You know,\" he continued, \"in what\nesteem I am at court, in the city, and with lords and ladies of\nthe greatest quality; what a disgrace would it be for me, should\nthis rash amour come to be discovered? But what do I say; should\nnot I and my family be completely ruined! That is what perplexes\nmy mind; but I have just formed my resolution: I will go\nimmediately and satisfy my creditors, and recover my debts, and\nwhen I have secured my property, will retire to Bussorah, and\nstay till the storm, that I foresee, is blown over. My friendship\nfor Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia makes me very sensible\nto what dangers they are exposed. I pray heaven to convince them\nof their peril, and to preserve them; but if their evil destiny\nshould bring their attachment to the knowledge of the caliph, I\nshall, at least, be out of the reach of his resentment; for I do\nnot think them so wicked as to design to involve me in their\nmisfortunes. It would be the height of ingratitude, and a bad\nreward for the service I have done them, and the good advice I\nhave given, particularly to the prince of Persia, who may save\nboth himself and his mistress from this precipice. He may as\neasily leave Bagdad as I; and absence will insensibly disenage\nhim from a passion, which will only increase whilst he continues\nin this place.\"\n\nThe jeweller was extremely surprised at what Ebn Thaher told him.\n\"What you say,\" said he, \"is of so much importance, that I cannot\nunderstand how Schemselnihar and the prince could have abandoned\nthemselves to such a violent passion. What inclination soever\nthey may have for one another, instead of yielding to it, they\nought to resist it, and make a better use of their reason. Is it\npossible they can be insensible of the danger of their\ncorrespondence? How deplorable is their blindness! I anticipate\nall its consequences as well as yourself; but you are wise and\nprudent, and I approve your resolution; as it is the only way to\ndeliver yourself from the fatal events which you have reason to\nfear.\" After this conversation the jeweller rose, and took his\nleave of Ebn Thaher.\n\nBefore the jeweller retired, Ebn Thaher conjured him by the\nfriendship betwixt them, to say nothing of what he had heard.\n\"Fear not,\" replied the jeweller, \"I will keep this secret at the\nperil of my life.\"\n\nTwo days after, the jeweller went to Ebn Thaher's shop, and\nseeing it shut, he doubted not but he had executed his design;\nbut, to be more sure, he asked a neighbour, if he knew why it was\nnot opened? The neighbour answered that he knew not, unless Ebn\nThaher was gone a journey. There was no need of his enquiring\nfarther, and he immediately thought of the prince of Persia:\n\"Unhappy prince,\" said he to himself, \"what will be your grief\nwhen you hear this news? How will you now carry on your\ncorrespondence with Schemselnihar? I fear you will die of\ndespair. I pity you, and must repair your loss of a too timid\nconfidant.\"\n\nThe business that obliged him to come abroad was of no\nconsequence, so that he neglected it, and though he had no\nknowledge of the prince of Persia, only by having sold him some\njewels, he went to his house. He addressed himself to one of his\nservants, and desired him to tell his master, that he wished to\nspeak with him about business of very great importance. The\nservant returned immediately to the jeweller, and introduced him\nto the prince's chamber. He was leaning on a sofa, with his head\non a cushion. As soon as the prince saw him, he rose up to\nreceive and welcome him, and entreated him to sit down; asked him\nif he could serve him in any thing, or if he came to tell him any\nthing interesting concerning himself. \"Prince,\" answered the\njeweller, \"though I have not the honour to be particularly\nacquainted with you, yet the desire of testifying my zeal has\nmade me take the liberty to come to your house, to impart to you\na piece of news that concerns you. I hope you will pardon my\nboldness for my good intention.\"\n\nAfter this introduction, the jeweller entered upon the matter,\nand continued: \"Prince, I shall have the honour to tell you, that\nit is a long time since conformity of disposition, and some\nbusiness we have had together, united Ebn Thaher and myself in\nstrict friendship. I know you are acquainted with him, and that\nhe has employed himself in obliging you to his utmost. I have\nlearnt this from himself, for he keeps nothing secret from me,\nnor I from him. I went just now to his shop, and was surprised to\nfind it shut. I addressed myself to one of his neighbours, to ask\nthe reason; he answered me, that two days ago Ebn Thaher took\nleave of him, and other neighbours, offering them his service at\nBussorah, whither he is gone, said he, about an affair of great\nimportance. Not being satisfied with this answer, my concern for\nhis welfare determined me to come and ask if you knew any thing\nparticular concerning this his sudden departure.\"\n\nAt this discourse, which the jeweller accommodated to the\nsubject, the better to compass his design, the prince of Persia\nchanged colour, and looked at the jeweller in a manner which\nconvinced him how much he was disconcerted at the intelligence.\n\"I am surprised at what you inform me,\" said he; \"a greater\nmisfortune could not befall me: Ah!\" he continued, with tears in\nhis eyes, \"if what you tell me be true, I am undone! Has Ebn\nThaher, who was all my comfort, in whom I put all my confidence,\nleft me? I cannot think of living after so cruel a blow.\"\n\nThe jeweller needed no more to convince him fully of the prince\nof Persia's violent passion, which Ebn Thaher had told him of:\nmere friendship would not make him speak so; nothing but love\ncould produce such lively sensations.\n\nThe prince continued some moments absorbed in melancholy\nthoughts; at last he lifted up his head, and calling one of his\nservants, said, \"Go, to Ebn Thaher's house, and ask some of his\ndomestics if he be gone to Bussorah: run, and come back quickly\nwith the answer.\" While the servant was gone, the jeweller\nendeavoured to entertain the prince of Persia with indifferent\nsubjects; but the prince gave little heed to him. He was a prey\nto fatal grief: sometimes he could not persuade himself that Ebn\nThaher was gone, and at others he did not doubt of it, when he\nreflected upon the conversation he had had with him the last time\nhe had seen him, and the abrupt manner in which he had left him.\n\nAt last the prince's servant returned, and reported that he had\nspoken with one of Ebn Thaher's servants, who assured him that he\nhad been gone two days to Bussorah. \"As I came from Ebn Thaher's\nhouse,\" added the servant, \"a slave well dressed met me, and\nafter she had asked me if I had the honour to belong to you, told\nme she wanted to speak with you, and begged at the same time that\nshe might accompany me: she is in the outer room, and I believe\nhas a letter to deliver to you from some person of consequence.\"\nThe prince commanded her to be immediately introduced, not\ndoubting but it was Schemselnihar's confidant slave, as indeed it\nwas. The jeweller knew her, having seen her several times at Ebn\nThaher's house: she could not have come at a better time to save\nthe prince from despair. She saluted him. The prince of Persia\nreturned the salute of Schemselnihar's confidant. The jeweller\narose as soon as he saw her and retired, to leave them at liberty\nto converse together. The confidant, after she had spoken some\ntime with the prince, took her leave and departed. She left him\nquite another person from what he was before; his eyes appeared\nbrighter, and his countenance more gay, which satisfied the\njeweller that the good slave came to tell him something\nfavourable to his amour.\n\nThe jeweller having taken his place again near the prince, said\nto him smiling, \"I see, prince, you have business of importance\nat the caliph's palace.\" The prince of Persia, astonished and\nalarmed at these words, answered the jeweller, \"What leads you to\nsuppose that I have business at the caliph's palace?\" \"I judge\nso,\" replied the jeweller, \"by the slave who has just left you.\"\n\"And to whom, think you, belongs this slave?\" demanded the\nprince. \"To Schemselnihar the caliph's favourite,\" answered the\njeweller: \"I know,\" continued he, \"both the slave and her\nmistress, who has several times done me the honour to come to my\nhouse, and buy jewels. Besides, I know that Schemselnihar keeps\nnothing secret from this slave; and I have seen her pass\nbackwards and forwards for several days along the streets, as I\nthought very much troubled; I imagined that it was for some\naffair of consequence concerning her mistress.\"\n\nThe jeweller's words greatly troubled the prince of Persia. \"He\nwould not say so,\" said he to himself, \"if he did not suspect, or\nrather were not acquainted with my secret.\" He remained silent\nfor some time, not knowing what course to take. At last he began,\nand said to the jeweller, \"You have told me things which make me\nbelieve that you know yet more than you have acquainted me with;\nit concerns my repose that I be perfectly informed; I conjure you\ntherefore not to conceal any thing from me.\"\n\nThen the jeweller, who desired nothing more, gave him a\nparticular account of what had passed betwixt Ebn Thaher and\nhimself. He informed him that he was apprised of his\ncorrespondence with Schemselnihar and forgot not to tell him\nthat Ebn Thaher, alarmed at the danger of being his confidant in\nthe matter, had communicated to him his intention of retiring to\nBussorah, until the storm which he dreaded should be blown over.\n\"This he has executed,\" added the jeweller, \"and I am surprised\nhow he could determine to abandon you, in the condition he\ninformed me you were in. As for me, prince, I confess, I am moved\nwith compassion towards you, and am come to offer you my service.\nIf you do me the favour to accept of it, I engage myself to be as\nfaithful to you as Ebn Thaher; besides, I promise to be more\nresolute. I am ready to sacrifice my honour and life for you:\nand, that you may not doubt of my sincerity, I swear by all that\nis sacred in our religion, to keep your secret inviolable. Be\npersuaded then, prince, that you will find in me the friend whom\nyou have lost.\" This declaration encouraged the prince, and\ncomforted him under Ebn Thaher's absence. \"I am glad,\" said he to\nthe jeweller, \"to find in you a reparation of my loss; I want\nwords to express the obligations I am under to you. I pray God to\nrecompense your generosity, and I accept your obliging offer with\nall my heart. Believe me,\" continued he, \"Schemselnihar's\nconfidant came to speak to me concerning you. She told me that it\nwas you who advised Ebn Thaher to go from Bagdad; these were the\nlast words she spoke to me, as she went away, and she seemed\npersuaded of what she said; but they do not do you justice. I\ndoubt not, after what you have told me, she is deceived.\"\n\"Prince\" replied the jeweller, \"I have had the honour to give you\na faithful account of my conversation with Ebn Thaher. It is\ntrue, when he told me he meant to retire to Bussorah, I did not\noppose his design; but let not this prevent your putting\nconfidence in me. I am ready to serve you with all imaginable\nzeal. If you do not use my service, this shall not hinder me from\nkeeping your secret religiously, according to my oath.\" \"I have\nalready told you,\" replied the prince, \"that I did not believe\nwhat the confidant said: it is her zeal which inspired her with\nthis groundless suspicion, and you ought to excuse it, as I do.\"\n\nThey continued their conversation for some time, and consulted\ntogether about the most convenient means to keep up the prince's\ncorrespondence with Schemselnihar. They agreed to begin by\nundeceiving the confidant, who was so unjustly prepossessed\nagainst the jeweller. The prince engaged to remove her mistake\nthe first time he saw her again, and to intreat her to address\nherself to the jeweller whenever she might bring letters, or any\nother information from her mistress to him. In short, they\ndetermined, that she ought not to come so frequently to the\nprince's house, because thereby she might lead to the discovery\nof what it was of so great importance to conceal. At last the\njeweller arose, and, after having again intreated the prince of\nPersia to place an unreserved confidence in him, withdrew.\n\nThe jeweller returning to his house perceived before him a\nletter, which somebody had dropped in the street. He took it up,\nand as it was not sealed, he opened it, and read as follows:\n\n\nLetter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.\n\n\"I have received from my confidant intelligence which gives me no\nless concern than it must give you. In Ebn Thaher, we have indeed\nsustained a great loss; but let this not hinder you, dear prince,\nfrom thinking of your own preservation. If our friend has\nabandoned us through fear, let us consider that it is a\nmisfortune which we could not avoid. I confess Ebn Thaher has\nleft us at a time when we most needed his assistance; but let us\nbear this unexpected stroke with patience, and let us not forbear\nto love one another constantly. Fortify your heart under this\nmisfortune. The object of our wishes is not to be obtained\nwithout trouble. Let us not be discouraged, but hope that heaven\nwill favour us, and that, after so many afflictions, we shall see\na happy accomplishment of our desires. Adieu.\"\n\n\nWhile the jeweller was conversing with the prince of Persia, the\nconfidant had time to return to the palace and communicate to her\nmistress the ill news of Ebn Thaher's departure. Schemselnihar\nimmediately wrote this letter, and sent back her confidant with\nit to the prince of Persia, but she negligently dropped it on her\nway.\n\nThe jeweller was glad to find it, for it furnished him with an\nopportunity of justifying himself to the confidant, and bringing\nher to the point he desired. When he had read it, he perceived\nthe slave seeking for it with the greatest anxiety. He closed it\nagain quickly, and put it into his bosom; but the slave observed\nhim, and running to him, said, \"Sir, I have dropped a letter,\nwhich you had just now in your hand; I beseech you to restore\nit.\" The jeweller, pretending not to hear her, continued his way\ntill he came to his house. He left his door open, that the\nconfidant, who followed him, might enter after him. She followed\nhim in, and when she came to his apartment, said, \"Sir, you can\nmake no use of that letter you have found, and you would not\nhesitate to return it to me, if you knew from whom it came, and\nto whom it is directed. Besides, allow me to tell you, you cannot\nhonestly keep it.\"\n\nBefore the jeweller returned her any answer he made her sit down,\nand then said to her, \"Is not this letter from Schemselnihar, and\nis it not directed to the prince of Persia?\" The slave, who\nexpected no such question, blushed. \"The question embarrasses\nyou,\" continued he; \"but I assure you I do not put it rashly: I\ncould have given you the letter in the street, but I wished you\nto follow me, on purpose that I might come to some explanation\nwith you. Is it just, tell me, to impute a misfortune to persons\nwho have no ways contributed towards it? Yet this you have done,\nin telling the prince of Persia that it was I who advised Ebn\nThaher to leave Bagdad for his own safety. I do not intend to\nwaste time in justifying myself; it is enough that the prince of\nPersia is fully persuaded of my innocence; I will only tell you,\nthat instead of contributing to Ebn Thaher's departure, I have\nbeen extremely afflicted at it, not so much from my friendship to\nhim, as out of compassion for the condition in which he left the\nprince of Persia, whose correspondence with Schemselnihar he has\ndiscovered to me. As soon as I knew certainly that Ebn Thaher was\ngone from Bagdad, I went and presented myself to the prince, in\nwhose house you found me, to inform him of this event, and to\noffer to undertake the service in which he had been employed; and\nprovided you put the same confidence in me, that you did in Ebn\nThaher, it will be your own fault if you do not make my\nassistance of use to you. Inform your mistress of what I have\ntold you, and assure her, that though I should die for engaging\nin so dangerous an intrigue, I should not repent of having\nsacrificed myself for two lovers so worthy of one another.\"\n\nThe confidant, after having heard the jeweller with great\nsatisfaction, begged him to pardon the ill opinion she had\nconceived of him, for the zeal she had for her mistress's\ninterest. \"I am beyond measure glad,\" she added, \"that\nSchemselnihar and the prince have found in you a person so fit to\nsupply Ebn Thaher's place I will not fail to convince my mistress\nof the good-will you bear her.\"\n\nAfter the confidant had testified to the jeweller her joy to see\nhim so well disposed to serve Schemselnihar and the prince of\nPersia, the jeweller took the letter out of his bosom, and\nrestored it to her, saying, \"Go, carry it quickly to the prince,\nand return this way that I may see his reply. Forget not to give\nhim an account of our conversation.\"\n\nThe confidant took the letter and carried it to the prince, who\nanswered it immediately. She returned to the jeweller's house to\nshew him the answer, which was in these words:\n\n\nThe Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselnihar.\n\n\"Your precious letter has had a great effect upon me, but not so\ngreat as I could have wished. You endeavour to comfort me for the\nloss of Ebn Thaher; alas! however sensible I am of this, it is\nbut the least of my troubles. You know these troubles, and you\nknow also that your presence alone can cure me. When will the\ntime come that I shall enjoy it without fear of a separation? How\ndistant does it seem to me! or shall we flatter ourselves that we\nmay ever see it? You command me to preserve myself; I will obey\nyou, since I have renounced my own will to follow only yours.\nAdieu.\"\n\nAfter the jeweller had read this letter, he returned it to the\nconfidant, who said, as she was going away, \"I will desire my mistress\nto put the same confidence in you that she did in Ebn Thaher. You\nshall hear of me to-morrow.\" Accordingly, next day she returned with a\npleasant countenance. \"Your very looks,\" said he to her, \"inform me\nthat you have brought Schemselnihar to the point you wished.\" \"It is\ntrue,\" replied the confidant, \"and you shall hear how I succeeded. I\nfound yesterday, on my return, Schemselnihar expecting me with\nimpatience, I gave her the prince of Persia's letter, and she read it\nwith tears in her eyes. When she had done, I saw that she had\nabandoned herself to her usual sorrow. 'Madam,' said I to her, 'it is\ndoubtless Ebn Thaher's removal that troubles you; but suffer me to\nconjure you in the name of God, to alarm yourself no farther on this\naccount. We have found another Ebn Thaher, who offers to oblige you\nwith equal zeal; and, what is yet more important, with greater\ncourage.' Then I spoke to her of you,\" continued the slave, \"and\nacquainted her with the motive which led you to the prince of Persia's\nhouse. In short, I assured her that you would keep inviolably the\nsecret betwixt her and the prince of Persia, and that you were\nresolved to favour their amour with all your might. She seemed to be\nmuch relieved by my discourse. 'Ah! what obligations,' said she, 'are\nthe prince of Persia and I under to that honest man you speak of! I\nmust be acquainted with him and see him, that I may hear from his own\nmouth what you tell me, and thank him for such unheard-of generosity\ntowards persons on whose account he is no way obliged to interest\nhimself. The sight of him will give me pleasure, and I shall omit\nnothing to confirm him in those good sentiments. Fail not to bring him\nto me to-morrow.' Therefore, sir, be so good as to accompany me to the\npalace.\"\n\nThe confidant's proposal perplexed the jeweller. \"Your mistress,\"\nreplied he, \"must allow me to say that she has not duly\nconsidered what she requires of me. Ebn Thaher's access to the\ncaliph gave him admission every where; and the officers who knew\nhim, allowed him free access to Schemselnihar's palace; but as\nfor me, how dare I enter? You see clearly that it is impossible.\nI entreat you to represent to Schemselnihar the reasons which\nprevent me from affording her that satisfaction; and acquaint her\nwith all the ill consequences that would attend my compliance. If\nshe considered it ever so little, she would find that it would\nexpose me needlessly to very imminent danger.\"\n\nThe confidant endeavoured to encourage the jeweller. \"Can you\nbelieve,\" said she, \"that Schemselnihar is so unreasonable as to\nexpose you to the least danger by bringing you to her, from whom\nshe expects such important services? Consider with yourself that\nthere is not the least appearance of risk. My mistress and I are\ntoo much interested in this affair to involve you in any danger.\nYou may depend upon me, and leave yourself to my conduit. After\nthe thing is over you will be the first to confess that your\napprehensions were groundless.\"\n\nThe jeweller yielded to the confidant's assurances, and rose up\nto follow her, but notwithstanding his boasted courage, he was\nseized with such terror that his whole body trembled. \"In your\npresent state,\" said she, \"I perceive it will be better for you\nto remain at home, and that Schemselnihar should take other\nmeasures to see you. It is not to be doubted but that to satisfy\nher desire she will come hither herself: the case being so, sir,\nI would not have you go: I am persuaded it will not be long ere\nyou see her here.\" The confidant foresaw this; for she no sooner\ninformed Schemselnihar of the jeweller's fear, but she prepared\nto go to his house.\n\nHe received her with all the expressions of profound respect.\nWhen she sat down, being a little fatigued, she unveiled herself,\nand exhibited to the jeweller such beauty as convinced him that\nthe prince of Persia was excusable in giving his heart to the\ncaliph's favourite. Then she saluted the jeweller with a graceful\nair, and said to him, \"I could not hear with what zeal you have\nengaged in the prince of Persia's concerns and mine, without\nimmediately determining to express my gratitude in person. I\nthank heaven for having so soon made up to us the loss of Ebn\nThaher.\"\n\nSchemselnihar said many other obliging things to the jeweller,\nafter which she returned to her palace. The jeweller went\nimmediately to give an account of this visit to the prince of\nPersia; who said to him, as soon as he saw him, \"I have expected\nyou impatiently. The trusty slave has brought me a letter from\nher mistress, but it does not relieve me. Whatever the lovely\nSchemselnihar says, I dare not hope, and my patience is\nexhausted; I know not now what measures to pursue; Ebn Thaher's\ndeparture reduces me to despair. He was my only support: in him I\nhave lost every thing. I had flattered myself with some hopes by\nreason of his access to Schemselnihar.\"\n\nAfter these words, which the prince spoke with so much eagerness,\nthat he gave the jeweller no time to interrupt him, he said to\nthe prince, \"No man can take more interest in your affliction\nthan I do; and if you will have patience to hear me you will\nperceive that I can relieve you.\" Upon this the prince became\nsilent, and listened to him. \"I see,\" said the jeweller, \"that\nthe only way to give you satisfaction is to devise a plan that\nwill afford you an opportunity of conversing freely with\nSchemselnihar. This I wish to procure you, and to-morrow will\nmake the attempt. You must by no means expose yourself to enter\nSchemselnihar's palace; you know by experience the danger of that\nstep. I know a fitter place for this interview, where you will be\nsafe.\" When the jeweller had finished, the prince embraced him\nwith transports of joy. \"You revive,\" said he, \"by this promise,\na wretched lover, who was condemned to die. You have fully\nrepaired the loss of Ebn Thaher; whatever you do will be well\nperformed; I leave myself entirely to your conduct.\"\n\nAfter the prince had thus thanked him for his zeal, the jeweller\nreturned home, and next morning Schemselnihar's confidant came to\nhim. He told her that he had given the prince of Persia hopes\nthat he should shortly see her mistress. \"I am come on purpose,\"\nanswered she, \"to concert measures with you for that end. I think\nthis house will be convenient enough for their interview.\" \"I\ncould receive them very well here,\" replied he, \"but I think they\nwill have more liberty in another house of mine where no one\nresides at present; I will immediately furnish it for their\nreception.\" \"There remains nothing then for me to do,\" replied\nthe confidant, \"but to bring Schemselnihar to consent to this. I\nwill go and speak to her, and return speedily with an answer.\"\n\nShe was as diligent as her promise, and returning to the\njeweller, told him that her mistress would not fail to keep the\nappointment in the evening. In the mean time she gave him a\npurse, and told him it was to prepare a collation. He carried her\nimmediately to the house where the lovers were to meet, that she\nmight know whither to bring her mistress: and when she was gone,\nhe went to borrow from his friends gold and silver plate,\ntapestry, rich cushions, and other furniture, with which he\nfurnished the house very magnificently; and when he had put all\nthings in order, went to the prince of Persia.\n\nYou may easily conceive the prince of Persia's joy, when the\njeweller told him that he came to conduct him to the house he had\nprepared to receive him and Schemselnihar. This news made him\nforget all his former trouble. He put on a magnificent robe, and\nwent without his retinue along with the jeweller; who led him\nthrough several by-streets that nobody might observe them, and at\nlast brought him to the house, where they conversed together\nuntil Schemselnihar's arrival.\n\nThey did not wait long for this passionate lover. She came after\nevening prayer, with her confidant, and two other slaves. It is\nimpossible to express the excess of joy that seized these two\nlovers when they saw one another. They sat down together upon a\nsofa, looking upon one another for some time, without being able\nto speak, they were so much overjoyed: but when their speech\nreturned, they soon made up for their silence. They said to each\nother so many tender things, as made the jeweller, the confidant,\nand the two other slaves weep. The jeweller however restrained\nhis tears, to attend the collation, which he brought in himself.\nThe lovers ate and drank little, after which they sat down again\nupon the sofa: Schemselnihar asked the jeweller if he had a lute,\nor any other instrument, The jeweller, who took care to provide\nall that could please her, brought her a lute: she spent some\ntime in tuning it, and then sung.\n\nWhile Schemselnihar was charming the prince of Persia, and\nexpressing her passion by words composed extempore, a great noise\nwas heard; and immediately the slave, whom the jeweller had\nbrought with him, came in great alarm to tell him that some\npeople were breaking in at the gate; that he asked who they were,\nbut instead of any answer the blows were redoubled. The jeweller,\nbeing alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince to inform\nhimself of the truth of this intelligence. No sooner had he got\nto the court, than he perceived, notwithstanding the darkness of\nthe night, a company of men armed with spears and cimeters, who\nhad broken the gate, and came directly towards him. He stood\nclose to a wall for fear of his life, and saw ten of them pass\nwithout being perceived by them. Finding he could give no great\nassistance to the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he\ncontented himself with lamenting their fate, and fled for refuge\nto a neighbour's house, who was not yet gone to bed. He did not\ndoubt but this unexpected violence was by the caliph's order,\nwho, he thought, had been informed of his favourite's meeting the\nprince of Persia there. He heard a great noise in his house,\nwhich continued till midnight: and when all was quiet, as he\nthought, he desired his neighbour to lend him a cimeter; and\nbeing thus armed, went on till he came to the gate of his own\nhouse: he entered the court full of fear, and perceived a man,\nwho asked him who he was; he knew by his voice that it was his\nown slave. \"How did you manage,\" said he, \"to avoid being taken\nby the watch?\" \"Sir,\" answered the slave, \"I hid myself in a\ncorner of the court, and I went out as soon as I heard the noise.\nBut it was not the watch who broke into your house: they were\nrobbers, who within these few days robbed another house in this\nneighbourhood. They doubtless had notice of the rich furniture\nyou brought hither, and had that in view.\"\n\nThe jeweller thought his slave's conjecture probable enough. He\nentered the house, and saw that the robbers had taken all the\nfurniture out of the apartment where he received Schemselnihar\nand her lover, that they had also carried off the gold and silver\nplate, and, in a word, had left nothing. Perceiving this\ndesolation, he exclaimed, \"O heaven! I am irrecoverably ruined!\nWhat will my friends say, and what excuse can I make when I shall\ntell them that the robbers have broken into my house, and robbed\nme of all they had generously lent me? I shall never be able to\nmake up their loss. Besides, what is become of Schemselnihar and\nthe prince of Persia? This business will be so public, that it\nwill be impossible but it must reach the caliph's ears. He will\nget notice of this meeting, and I shall fall a sacrifice to his\nfury.\" The slave, who was very much attached to him, endeavoured\nto comfort him. \"As to Schemselnihar,\" said he, \"the robbers\nwould probably consent themselves with stripping her, and you\nhave reason to think that she is retired to her palace with her\nslaves. The prince of Persia too has probably escaped, so that\nyou have reason to hope the caliph will never know of this\nadventure. As for the loss your friends have sustained, that is a\nmisfortune that you could not avoid. They know very well the\nrobbers are numerous, that they have not only pillaged the house\nI have already spoken of, but many other houses of the principal\nnoblemen of the court: and they are not ignorant that,\nnotwithstanding the orders given to apprehend them, nobody has\nbeen yet able to seize any of them. You will be acquitted by\nrestoring your friends the value of the things that are stolen,\nand, blessed be God, you will have enough left.\"\n\nWhile they were waiting for day-light, the jeweller ordered the\nslave to mend the street door, which was broken, as well as he\ncould: after which he returned to his usual residence with his\nslave, making melancholy reflections on what had happened. \"Ebn\nThaher,\" said he to himself, \"has been wiser than I; he foresaw\nthe misfortune into which I have blindly thrown myself: would to\nGod I had never meddled in this intrigue, which will, perhaps,\ncost me my life!\"\n\nIt was scarcely day when the report of the robbery spread through\nthe city, and a great many of his friends and neighbours came to\nhis house to express their concern for his misfortune; but were\ncurious to know the particulars. He thanked them for their\naffection, and had at least the consolation, that he heard no one\nmention Schemselnihar or the prince of Persia: which made him\nbelieve they were at their houses, or in some secure place.\n\nWhen the jeweller was alone, his servants brought him something\nto eat, but he had no appetite. About noon one of his slaves came\nto tell him there was a man at the gate, whom he knew not, that\ndesired to speak with him. The jeweller, not choosing to receive\na stranger into his house, rose up, and went to speak to him.\n\"Though you do not know me,\" said the man; \"I know you, and I am\ncome to talk to you about an important affair.\" The jeweller\ndesired him to come in. \"No,\" answered the stranger \"if you\nplease, rather take the trouble to go with me to your other\nhouse.\" \"How know you,\" asked the jeweller, \"that I have another\nhouse?\" \"I know very well,\" answered the stranger; \"follow me,\nand do not fear any thing: I have something to communicate which\nwill please you.\" The jeweller went immediately with him; and\nafter he had considered by the way how the house they were going\nto had been robbed, he said to him that it was not fit to receive\nhim.\n\nWhen they were before the house, and the stranger saw the gate\nhalf broken down, he said to the jeweller, \"I see you have told\nme the truth. I will conduct you to a place where we shall be\nbetter accommodated.\" When he had thus spoken, he went on, and\nwalked all the rest of the day without stopping. The jeweller\nbeing fatigued with his walk, vexed to see night approach, and\nthat the stranger went on without telling him where he was going,\nbegan to lose his patience, when they came to a path which led to\nthe Tigris. As soon as they reached the river, they embarked in a\nlittle boat, and went over. The stranger led the jeweller through\na long street, where he had never been before; and after he had\nbrought him through several by-streets, he stopped at a gate,\nwhich he opened. He made the jeweller go in before him, he then\nshut and bolted the gate, with a huge iron bolt, and conducted\nhim to a chamber, where there were ten other men, all of them as\ngreat strangers to the jeweller as he who had brought him hither.\n\nThese ten men received him without much ceremony. They desired\nhim to sit down, of which he had great need; for he was not only\nout of breath with walking so far, but his terror at finding\nhimself with people whom he thought he had reason to fear would\nhave disabled him from standing. They waited for their leader to\ngo to supper, and as soon as he came it was served up. They\nwashed their hands, obliged the jeweller to do the like, and to\nsit at table with them. After supper the men asked him, if he\nknew whom he spoke to? He answered, \"No; and that he knew not the\nplace he was in.\" \"Tell us your last night's adventure,\" said\nthey to him, \"and conceal nothing from us.\" The jeweller, being\nastonished at this request, answered, \"Gentlemen, it is probable\nyou know it already.\" \"That is true,\" replied they; \"the young\nman and the young lady, who were at your house yesternight, told\nit us; but we would know it from your own mouth.\" The jeweller\nneeded no more to inform him that he spoke to the robbers who had\nbroken into and plundered his house. \"Gentlemen,\" said he, \"I am\nmuch troubled for that young man and lady; can you give me any\ntidings of them?\"\n\nUpon the jeweller's inquiry of the thieves, if they knew any\nthing of the young man and the young lady, they answered, \"Be not\nconcerned for them, they are safe and well,\" so saying, they\nshewed him two closets, where they assured him they were\nseparately shut up. They added, \"We are informed you alone know\nwhat relates to them, which we no sooner came to understand, but\nwe shewed them all imaginable respect, and were so far from doing\nthem any injury, that we treated them with all possible kindness\non your account. We answer for the same,\" proceeded they, \"for\nyour own person, you may put unlimited confidence in us.\"\n\nThe jeweller being encouraged by this assurance, and overjoyed to\nhear that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar were safe,\nresolved to engage the robbers yet farther in their interest. He\ncommended them, flattered them, and gave them a thousand\nbenedictions. \"Gentlemen,\" said he, \"I must confess I have not\nthe honour to know you, yet it is no small happiness to me that I\nam not wholly unknown to you; and I can never be sufficiently\ngrateful for the favours which that knowledge has procured me at\nyour hands. Not to mention your great humanity, I am fully\npersuaded now, that persons of your character are capable of\nkeeping a secret faithfully, and none are so fit to undertake a\ngreat enterprise, which you can best bring to a good issue by\nyour zeal, courage, and intrepidity. Confiding in these\nqualities, which are so much your due, I hesitate not to tell you\nmy whole history, with that of those two persons you found in my\nhouse, with all the fidelity you desire me.\"\n\nAfter the jeweller had thus secured, as he thought, the\nconfidence of the robbers, he made no scruple to relate to them\nthe whole amour of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from\nthe beginning of it to the time he had received them into his\nhouse.\n\nThe robbers were greatly astonished at all the particulars they\nheard, and could not forbear exclaiming, \"How! is it possible\nthat the young man should be the illustrious Ali Ebn Becar,\nprince of Persia, and the young lady the fair and celebrated\nbeauty Schemselnihar?\" The jeweller assured them nothing was more\ncertain, and that they need not think it strange, that persons of\nso distinguished a character should wish not to be known.\n\nUpon this assurance of their quality, the robbers went\nimmediately, one after another, and threw themselves at their\nfeet, imploring their pardon, and protesting that nothing of the\nkind would have happened to them, had they been informed of the\nquality of their persons before they broke into the house; and\nthat they would by their future conduct endeavour to make amends\nfor the crime they had thus ignorantly committed. Then turning to\nthe jeweller, they told him, they were heartily sorry they could\nnot restore to him all that had been taken from him, part of it\nbeing no longer in their possession, but as for what remained, if\nhe would content himself with his plate, it should be forthwith\nput into his hand.\n\nThe jeweller was overjoyed at the favour done him, and after the\nrobbers had delivered to him the plate, they required of the\nprince, Schemselnihar, and him, to promise them upon oath, that\nthey would not betray them, and they would carry them to a place\nwhence they might easily return to their respective homes. The\nprince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, replied, that they might\nrely on their words, but since they desired an oath of them, they\nsolemnly swore not to discover them. The thieves, satisfied with\nthis, immediately went out with them.\n\nOn the way, the jeweller, uneasy at not seeing the confidant and\nthe two slaves, came up to Schemselnihar, and begged her to\ninform him what was become of them. She answered, she knew\nnothing of them, and that all she could tell him was, that she\nwas carried away from his house, ferried over the river, and\nbrought to the place from whence they were just come.\n\nSchemselnihar and the jeweller had no farther conversation; they\nlet the robbers conduit them with the prince to the river's side,\nwhen the robbers immediately took boat, and carried them over to\nthe opposite bank.\n\nWhile the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller were landing,\nthey heard the noise of the horse patrol coming towards them,\njust as the boat had conveyed the robbers back.\n\nThe commander of the brigade demanded of the prince,\nSchemselnihar, and the jeweller, who they were, and whence they\nhad come so late? Frightened as they were, and apprehensive of\nsaying any thing that might prejudice them, they could not speak;\nbut at length it was necessary they should. The jeweller's mind\nbeing most at ease, he said, \"Sir, I can assure you, we are\nrespectable people of the city. The persons who have just landed\nus, and are now returned to the other side of the water, are\nthieves, who having last night broke open the house where we\nwere, pillaged it, and afterwards carried us to their quarters,\nwhence by fair words, we prevailed on them to let us have our\nliberty; and they brought us hither. They have restored us part\nof the booty they had taken from us.\" At which words he shewed\nthe parcel of plate he had recovered.\n\nThe commander, not satisfied with what the jeweller had told him,\ncame up to him and the prince of Persia, and looking steadfastly\nat them, said, \"Tell me truly, who is this lady? How came you to\nknow her?\"\n\nThese questions embarrassed them so much that neither of them\ncould answer; till at length Schemselnihar extricated them from\ntheir difficulty, and taking the commander aside, told him who\nshe was; which he no sooner heard, than he alighted with\nexpressions of great respect and politeness, and ordered his men\nto bring two boats.\n\nWhen the boats were come, he put Schemselnihar into one, and the\nprince of Persia and the jeweller into the other, with two of his\npeople in each boat; with orders to accompany each of them\nwhithersoever they were bound. The boats took different routes,\nbut we shall at present speak only of that which contained the\nprince and the jeweller.\n\nThe prince, to save his guides trouble, bade them land the\njeweller at his house, naming the place. The guide, by this\ndirection, stopped just before the caliph's palace, which put\nboth him and the jeweller into great alarm; for although they had\nheard the commander's orders to his men, they could not help\nimagining they were to be delivered up to the guard, to be\nbrought before the caliph next morning.\n\nThis nevertheless was not the intention of the guides. For after\nthey had landed them, they, by their master's command,\nrecommended them to an officer of the caliph's guard who assigned\nthem two soldiers to conduct them by land to the prince's house,\nwhich was at some distance from the river. They arrived there,\nbut so tired and weary that they could hardly move.\n\nThe prince being come home, with the fatigue of his journey, and\nthis misadventure to himself and Schemselnihar, which deprived\nhim of all hope of ever seeing her more, fell into a swoon on his\nsofa. While the greatest part of his servants were endeavoring to\nrecover him, the rest gathered about the jeweller, and begged him\nto tell them what had happened to the prince their lord, whose\nabsence had occasioned them such inexpressible uneasiness.\n\nWhile the greatest part of the prince's domestics were\nendeavouring to recover him from his swoon, others of them got\nabout the jeweller, desiring to know what had happened to their\nlord. The jeweller, who took care to discover nothing that was\nnot proper for them to know, told them that it was an\nextraordinary case, but that it was not a time to relate it, and\nthat they would do better to go and assist the prince. By good\nfortune the prince came to himself that moment, and those that\nbut just before required his history with so much earnestness\nretreated to a respectful distance.\n\nAlthough the prince had in some measure recovered his\nrecollection, he continued so weak that he could not open his\nmouth to speak. He answered only by signs, even to his nearest\nrelations, when they spoke to him. He remained in this condition\ntill next morning, when the jeweller came to take leave of him.\nHe could answer only by a movement of his eyes, and holding out\nhis right hand; but when he saw he was laden with a bundle of\nplate, which the thieves had returned to him, he made a sign to\nhis servants that they should take it and carry it to his house.\n\nThe jeweller had been expected with great impatience by his\nfamily the day he departed with the stranger; but now he was\nquite given over, and it was no longer doubted but some disaster\nhad befallen him. His wife, children, and servants, were in the\ngreatest alarm, and lamenting him. When he arrived, their joy was\nexcessive; yet they were troubled to see that he was so much\naltered in the short interval, that he was hardly to be known.\nThis was occasioned by the great fatigue of the preceding day,\nand the fears he had undergone all night, which would not permit\nhim to sleep. Finding himself much indisposed, he continued at\nhome two days, and would admit only one of his intimate friends\nto visit him.\n\nThe third day, finding himself something better, he thought he\nmight recover strength by going abroad to take the air; and\ntherefore went to the shop of a rich merchant of his\nacquaintance, with whom he continued long in conversation. As he\nwas rising to take leave of his friend to return home, he\nobserved a woman making a sign to him, whom he presently knew to\nbe the confidant of Schemselnihar. Between fear and joy, he made\nwhat haste he could away, without looking at her; but she\nfollowed him, as he feared she would, the place they were in\nbeing by no means proper to converse in. As he quickened his\npace, she, not being able to overtake him, every now and then\ncalled out to him to stay.\n\nHe heard her; but after what had happened, he did not think fit\nto speak to her in public, for fear of giving cause to suspect\nthat he was connected with Schemselnihar. It was known to every\nbody in Bagdad, that this woman belonged to her, and executed all\nher little commissions. He continued the same pace, and at length\nreached a mosque, where he knew but few people came. He entered,\nand she followed him, and they had a long conversation together,\nwithout any body overhearing them.\n\nBoth the jeweller and confidant expressed much joy at seeing each\nother, after the strange adventure of the robbers, and their\nreciprocal apprehension for each other, without regarding their\nown particular persons.\n\nThe jeweller wished her to relate to him how she escaped with the\ntwo slaves, and what she knew of Schemselnihar from the time he\nlost sight of her; but so great was her eagerness to know what\nhad happened to him from the time of their unexpected separation,\nthat he found himself obliged to satisfy her. \"Having given you\nthe detail you desired,\" said he, \"oblige me in your turn,\" which\nshe did in the following manner.\n\n\"When I first saw the robbers, I hastily imagined that they were\nsoldiers of the caliph's guard, and that the caliph being\ninformed of Schemselnihar's going out, had sent them to put her,\nthe prince, and all of us to death. Under this impression I\nimmediately got up to the terrace of your house, when the thieves\nentered the apartment where the prince and Schemselnihar were,\nand I was soon after followed by that lady's two slaves. From\nterrace to terrace, we came at last to a house of very honest\npeople, who received us with much civility, and with whom we\nlodged that night.\n\n\"Next morning, after thanking the master of the house for our\ngood usage, we returned to Schemselnihar's palace, where we\nentered in great disorder and distress, because we could not\nlearn the fate of the two unfortunate lovers. The other women of\nSchemselnihar were astonished to see me return without their\nlady. We told them, we had left her at the house of one of her\nfemale friends, and that she would send for us when she wished to\ncome home; with which excuse they seemed well satisfied.\n\n\"For my part, I spent the day in great uneasiness, and when night\narrived, opening a small private gate, I espied a little boat on\nthe canal which seemed driven by the stream. I called to the\nwaterman, and desired him to row up each side of the river, and\nlook if he could not see a lady; and if he found her, to bring\nher along with him. The two slaves and I waited impatiently for\nhis return, and at length, about midnight, we saw the boat coming\ndown with two men in it, and a woman lying along in the stern.\nWhen the boat was come up, the two men helped the woman to rise,\nand then it was I knew her to be Schemselnihar. I cannot express\nmy joy at seeing her.\n\n\"I gave my hand to Schemselnihar to help her out of the boat; she\nhad great need of my assistance, for she could hardly stand. When\nshe was landed, she whispered me in a tone expressive of her\naffliction, and bade me go and take a purse of one thousand\npieces of gold and give it to the two soldiers that had\naccompanied her. I left her to the care of the two slaves to\nsupport her, and having ordered the two soldiers to wait for me a\nmoment, I took the purse, and returned instantly; I gave it to\nthem, and having paid the waterman, shut the door.\n\n\"I then followed my lady, and overtook her before she had reached\nher chamber. We immediately undressed her, and put her to bed,\nwhere she had not long been, before she became so ill that for\nthe whole of the night we almost despaired of her life. The day\nfollowing, her other women expressed a great desire to see her;\nbut I told them she had been greatly fatigued, and wanted rest.\nThe other two women and I gave her all the assistance in our\npower; but we should have given over every hope of her recovery,\nhad I not at last perceived that the wine which we every now and\nthen gave her had a sensible effect in recruiting her strength.\nBy importunity we at length prevailed with her to eat.\n\n\"When she recovered the use of her speech, for she had hitherto\nonly wept, groaned, and sighed, I begged of her to tell me how\nshe had escaped out of the hands of the robbers. 'Why would you\nrequire of me,' said she, with a profound sigh, 'to renew my\ngrief? Would to God the robbers had taken away my life, rather\nthan have preserved it; my misfortunes would then have had an\nend, whereas I live but to increase my sufferings.'\n\n\"Madam,' I replied, 'I beg you would not refuse me this favour.\nYou cannot but know that the wretched feel a consolation in\nrelating their greatest misfortunes; what I ask would alleviate\nyours, if you would have the goodness to gratify me.'\n\n\"'Hear then,' said she, 'the most afflicting adventure that could\npossibly have happened to one so deeply in love as myself, who\nconsidered myself as at the utmost point of my wishes. You must\nknow, when I first saw the robbers enter, sword in hand, I\nconsidered it as the last moment of our lives. But death was not\nan object of regret, since I thought I was to die with the prince\nof Persia. However, instead of murdering us, as I expected, two\nof the robbers were ordered to take care of us, whilst their\ncompanions were busied in packing up the goods they found in the\nhouse. When they had done, and got their bundles upon their\nbacks, they went out, and took us with them.\n\n\"'As we went along, one of those that had charge of us demanded\nof me who I was? I answered, I was a dancer. He put the same\nquestion to the prince, who replied, he was a citizen.\n\n\"'When we had reached the place of our destination, a new alarm\nseized us. They gathered about us, and after having considered my\ndress, and the rich jewels I was adorned with, they seemed to\nsuspect I had disguised my quality.\" \"Dancers,\" said they, \"do not\nuse to be dressed as you are. Tell us truly who you are?\"\n\n\"'When they saw I made no reply, they asked the prince once more\nwho he was, for they told him they plainly perceived he was not\nthe person he pretended to be. He did not satisfy them much more\nthan I had done; he only told them he came to see the jeweller,\nnaming him, who was the owner of the house where they found us.\"\n\"I know this jeweller,\" replied one of the rogues, who seemed to\nhave some authority over the rest: \"I owe him some obligations,\nwhich he knows nothing of, and I take upon me to bring him hither\nto-morrow morning; but you must not expect,\" continued he, \"to be\nreleased till he arrives and tells us who you are; in the mean\ntime, I promise you there shall be no injury offered to you.\"\n\n\"The jeweller was brought next morning, who thinking to oblige\nus, as he really did, declared to the robbers the whole truth.\nThey immediately came and asked my pardon, and I believe did the\nlike to the prince, who was shut up in another room. They\nprotested to me, they would not have broken open the house where\nwe were, had they known it was the jeweller's. They soon after\ntook us (the prince, the jeweller, and myself), carried us to the\nriver side, put us aboard a boat, and rowed us across the water;\nbut we were no sooner landed, than a party of horse-patrol came\nup to us.\n\n\"The robbers fled; I took the commander aside, and told him my\nname, and that the night before I had been seized by robbers, who\nforced me along with them; but having been told who I was,\nreleased me, and the two persons he saw with me, on my account.\nHe alighted out of respect to me; and expressing great joy at\nbeing able to oblige me, caused two boats to be brought: putting\nme and two of his soldiers, whom you have seen, into one, he\nescorted me hither: but what is become of the prince and his\nfriend I cannot tell.\n\n\"'I trust,' added she, melting into tears, 'no harm has befallen\nthem since our separation; and I do not doubt but the prince's\nconcern for me is equal to mine for him. The jeweller, to whom we\nhave been so much obliged, ought to be recompensed for the loss\nhe has sustained on our account. Fail not, therefore, to take two\npurses of a thousand pieces of gold in each, and carry them to\nhim to-morrow morning in my name, and be sure to inquire after\nthe prince's welfare.'\n\n\"When my good mistress had done speaking, I endeavoured, as to\nthe last article of inquiring into the prince's welfare, to\npersuade her to endeavour to triumph over her passion, after the\ndanger she had so lately escaped almost by miracle. 'Make me no\nanswer,' said she, 'but do what I require.'\n\n\"I was obliged to be silent, and am come hither to obey her\ncommands. I have been at your house, but not finding you at home,\nand uncertain as I was of where you might be found, was about\ngoing to the prince of Persia; but not daring to attempt the\njourney, I have left the two purses with a particular friend, and\nif you will wait here, I will go and fetch them immediately.\"\n\nThe confidant soon returned to the jeweller in the mosque, where\nshe had left him, and giving him the two purses, bade him out of\nthem satisfy his friends. \"They are much more than is necessary,\"\nsaid he, \"but I dare not refuse the present from so good and\ngenerous a lady to her most humble servant; I beseech you to\nassure her from me, that I shall preserve an eternal remembrance\nof her goodness.\" He then agreed with the confidant, that she\nshould find him at the house where she had first seen him,\nwhenever she had occasion to impart any thing from Schemselnihar,\nor to hear any tidings of the prince of Persia: and so they\nparted.\n\nThe jeweller returned home well pleased, not only that he had got\nwherewithal so fully to satisfy his friends, but also to think\nthat no person in Bagdad could possibly know that the prince and\nSchemselnihar had been in his other house when it was robbed. It\nis true, he had acquainted the thieves with it, but on their\nsecrecy he thought he might very well depend. Next morning he\nvisited the friends who had obliged him, and found no difficulty\nin satisfying them. He had money in hand to furnish his other\nhouse, in which he placed servants. Thus he forgot all his past\ndanger, and the next evening waited on the prince of Persia.\n\nThe prince's domestics told the jeweller, that he came very\nopportunely, as the prince, since he had parted with him, was\nreduced to such a state that his life was in danger. They\nintroduced him softly into his chamber, and he found him in a\ncondition that excited his pity. He was lying on his bed, with\nhis eyes closed; but when the jeweller saluted him, and exhorted\nhim to take courage, he recollected him, opened his eyes, and\ngave him a look that sufficiently declared the greatness of his\naffliction, infinitely beyond what he felt after he first saw\nSchemselnihar. He grasped him by the hand, to testify his\nfriendship, and told him, in a feeble voice, that he was\nextremely obliged to him for coming so far to visit one so\nunhappy and wretched.\n\n\"Prince,\" replied the jeweller, \"mention not, I beseech you, any\nobligations you owe to me. I wish the good offices I have\nendeavoured to do you had had a better effect; but at present,\nlet us talk only of your health; which, in the state I see you, I\nfear you greatly injure by unreasonably abstaining from proper\nnourishment.\"\n\nThe prince's servants took this opportunity to tell him, it was\nwith the greatest difficulty they had prevailed on their master\nto take the smallest refreshment, and that for some time he had\ntaken nothing. This obliged the jeweller to entreat the prince to\nlet his servants bring him something to eat.\n\nAfter the prince had, through the persuasion of the jeweller,\neaten more than he had hitherto done, he commanded the servants\nto leave him alone with his friend. When the room was clear, he\nsaid, \"Besides the misfortune that distracts me, I have been\nexceedingly concerned to think what a loss you have sustained on\nmy account; and it is but just I should make you some recompence.\nBut before I do this, after begging your pardon a thousand times,\nI conjure you to tell me whether you have learnt any tidings of\nSchemselnihar, since I had the misfortune to be parted from her.\"\n\nHere the jeweller, instructed by the confidant, related to him\nall that he knew of Schemselnihar's arrival at her palace, her\nstate of health from that time till she recovered, and how she\nhad sent her confidant to him to inquire after his welfare.\n\nTo all this the prince replied only by sighs and tears. He made\nan effort to get up, and calling his servants, went himself to\nhis wardrobe, and having caused several bundles of rich furniture\nand plate to be packed up, he ordered them to be carried to the\njeweller's house.\n\nThe jeweller would fain have declined this kind offer; but\nalthough he represented that Schemselnihar had already made him\nmore than sufficient amends for what he had lost, the prince\nwould be obeyed. The jeweller was therefore obliged to make all\npossible acknowledgments, and protested how much he was\nconfounded at his highness's liberality. He would then have taken\nhis leave, but the prince desired him to stay, and they passed\ngood part of the night in conversation.\n\nNext morning the jeweller waited again on the prince, who made\nhim sit down by him. \"You know,\" said he, \"there is an end\nproposed in all things: that which the lover proposes, is to\nenjoy the beloved object in spite of all opposition. If once he\nloses that hope, he must not think to live. Such is my hard case;\nfor twice when I have been at the very point of fulfilling my\ndesires, I have suddenly been torn from her I loved in the most\ncruel manner imaginable. It remains for me only to think of\ndeath, and I had sought it, but that our holy religion forbids\nsuicide; but I need not anticipate it; I need not wait long.\"\nHere he stopped, and vented his passion in groans, sighs, sobs,\nand tears, which flowed abundantly.\n\nThe jeweller, who knew no better way of diverting him from his\ndespair than by bringing Schemselnihar into his mind, and giving\nhim some shadow of hope, told him, he feared the confidant might\nbe come from her lady, and therefore it would not be proper to\nstay any longer from home. \"I will let you go,\" said the prince,\n\"but conjure you, that if you see her, you recommend to her to\nassure Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect to do shortly, I\nshall love her to the last moment, even in the grave.\"\n\nThe jeweller returned home, and waited in expectation of seeing\nthe confidant, who came some hours after, but all in tears, and\nin great affliction. The jeweller alarmed, asked her what was the\nmatter? She answered, that Schemselnihar, the prince, herself,\nand he, were all ruined. \"Hear the sad news,\" said she, \"as it\nwas told me just upon my entering the palace after I had left you.\n\n\"Schemselnihar had for some fault chastised one of the slaves you\nsaw with her when you met in your other house. The slave, enraged\nat the ill treatment, ran immediately away, and finding the gate\nopen, went out; so that we have just reason to believe she has\ndiscovered all to an eunuch of the guard, who gave her\nprotection.\n\n\"But this is not all; the other slave her companion has fled too,\nand has taken refuge in the caliph's palace. So that we may well\nfear she has borne her part in this discovery: for just as I came\naway, the caliph had sent twenty of his eunuchs for\nSchemselnihar, who have carried her to the palace. I just found\nmeans to come and tell you this. I know not what has passed, yet\nI fear no good; but above all, I recommend to you to keep the\nsecret inviolate.\"\n\nThe confidant added to what she had related before to the\njeweller, that it was proper he should go immediately and\nacquaint the prince with the whole affair, that he might be\nprepared for every event, and keep faithful to the common cause.\nShe went away in haste, without staying for any answer.\n\nWhat answer could the jeweller have made in the condition he was\nin? He stood motionless as if thunderstruck. He found, however,\nthat there was no time to be lost, and immediately went to give\nthe prince information. He addressed him with an air, that\nsufficiently shewed the bad news he brought. \"Prince,\" said he,\n\"arm yourself with courage and patience, and prepare to receive\nthe most terrible shock that ever you had to encounter.\"\n\n\"Tell me in a few words,\" replied the prince, \"what is the\nmatter, without keeping me in suspense; I am, if necessary,\nprepared to die.\"\n\nThen the jeweller repeated all that he had learnt from the\nconfidant. \"You see,\" continued he, \"your destruction is\ninevitable. Rise, save yourself by flight, for the time is\nprecious. You, of all men, must not expose yourself to the anger\nof the caliph, and, less than any, confess in the midst of\ntorture.\"\n\nAt these words the prince was ready to expire through grief,\naffliction, and fear. However, he recovered himself, and asked\nthe jeweller what resolution he would advise him to take in this\nconjuncture, every moment of which ought to be employed. The\njeweller told him, he thought nothing remained, but that he\nshould immediately take horse, and hasten away towards Anbar,\nthat he might get thither before day. \"Take what servants and\nswift horses you think necessary,\" continued he, \"and suffer me\nto escape with you.\"\n\nThe prince, seeing nothing more to be done, immediately gave\norders to prepare such an equipage as would be least troublesome;\ntook money and jewels, and having taken leave of his mother,\ndeparted with the jeweller and such servants as he had chosen.\n\nThey travelled all night without stopping, till at length, both\ntheir horses and themselves being spent with so long a journey,\nthey halted to rest themselves.\n\nThey had hardly alighted before they found themselves surrounded\nand assaulted by a band of robbers. They defended their lives for\nsome time courageously; but at length the prince's servants being\nall killed, both he and the jeweller were obliged to yield at\ndiscretion. The robbers, however, spared their dives, but after\nthey had seized the horses and baggage, they took away their\nclothes and left them naked.\n\nWhen the thieves were gone, the prince said to the jeweller,\n\"What think you of our adventure and condition? Had I not better\nhave tarried in Bagdad, and awaited my death?\" \"Prince,\" replied\nthe jeweller, \"it is the decree of Heaven that we should thus\nsuffer. It has pleased God to add affliction to affliction and\nwe must not murmur, but receive his chastisements with\nsubmission. Let us stay no longer here, but seek for some retreat\nwhere we may perhaps be relieved.\"\n\n\"Let me die,\" said the prince; \"for what signifies it whether I\ndie here or elsewhere. Perhaps while we are talking,\nSchemselnihar is no more, and why should I endeavour to live\nafter she is dead!\" The jeweller, by his entreaty, at length\nprevailed on him, and they had not gone far before they came to a\nmosque, which was open; they entered it, and passed there the\nremainder of the night.\n\nAt day-break a man came into the mosque. When he had ended his\nprayer, as he turned about to go away, he perceived the prince\nand jeweller, who were sitting in a corner. He came up to them,\nand after having saluted them with a great deal of civility,\nsaid, \"I perceive you are strangers.\"\n\nThe jeweller answered, \"You are not deceived. We have been robbed\nto-night in coming from Bagdad, as you may see, and have retired\nhither for shelter, but we know not to whom to apply.\" \"If you\nthink fit to accompany me to my house,\" answered the man, \"I will\ngive you all the assistance in my power.\"\n\nUpon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and\nwhispered, \"This man, as you perceive, sir, does not know us, and\nwe have reason to fear that somebody else may come who does. We\ncannot, I think, refuse his offer.\" \"Do as you please,\" said the\nprince; \"I am willing to be guided by your discretion.\"\n\nThe man observing the prince and jeweller consulting together,\nand thinking they made some difficulty to accept his offer, asked\nthem if they were resolved what to do? The jeweller answered \"We\nare ready to follow you; all we hesitate about is that we are\nashamed to appear thus naked.\"\n\nFortunately the man had it in his power to cover them\nsufficiently till they could get to his house. As soon as they\nhad entered, he brought a very handsome suit for each of them. As\nhe thought they must be hungry, and might wish to be alone, he\nhad several dishes brought to them by a slave; but they ate\nlittle, especially the prince who was so dejected and dispirited,\nthat he gave the jeweller cause to fear he would die. Their host\nvisited them several times in the course of the day, and in the\nevening, as he knew they wanted rest, he left them early. But he\nwas no sooner in bed, than the jeweller was forced to call him\nagain to assist at the death of the prince of Persia. He found\nhim breathe short, and with difficulty, which gave him reason to\nfear he had but few minutes to live. Coming near him, the prince\nsaid, \"It is all over, and I am glad you are witness of my last\nwords. I quit life with a great deal of satisfaction; I need not\ntell you the reason, for you know it already. All my concern is,\nthat I cannot die in the arms of my dear mother, who has always\nloved me tenderly, and for whom I had a reciprocal affection. Let\nher know how much I was concerned at this, and request her in my\nname to have my body removed to Bagdad, that she may have an\nopportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my\ndeparted soul with her prayers.\" He then took notice of the\nmaster of the house, and thanked him for his kindness in taking\nhim in; and after desiring him to let his body rest with him till\nit should be conveyed to Bagdad, he expired.\n\nThe day after the prince's death, the jeweller took the\nopportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and\narrived there in safety. He first went home to change his\nclothes, and then hastened to the prince's palace, where every\nbody was alarmed at not seeing the prince with him. He desired\nthem to acquaint the prince's mother that he wished to speak with\nher, and it was not long before he was introduced to her in a\nhall, with several of her women about her. \"Madam,\" said he to\nher, with an air that sufficiently denoted the ill news he\nbrought, \"God preserve you, and shower down upon you the choicest\nof his blessings. You cannot be ignorant that he alone disposes\nof us at his pleasure.\"\n\nThe princess would not permit him to proceed, but exclaimed,\n\"Alas! you bring me the news of my son's death?\" She and her\nwomen at the same time wept and sobbed loudly. At length she\nchecked her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue\nwithout concealing from her the least circumstance of such a\nmelancholy separation. He satisfied her, and when he had done,\nshe farther demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given\nhim in charge something more particular in his last moments? He\nassured her his last words were, that it was to him the most\nafflicting circumstance that he must die so far distant from his\ndear mother, and that the only thing he wished was, that she\nwould have his corpse transported to Bagdad. Accordingly early\nnext morning the princess set out with her women and great part\nof her slaves, to bring her son's body to her own palace.\n\nWhen the jeweller, whom she had detained, had seen her depart, he\nreturned home very sad and melancholy, at the reflection that so\naccomplished and amiable a prince was thus cut off in the flower\nof his age.\n\nAs he walked towards his house, dejected and musing, he saw a\nwoman standing before him. He recognized her to be\nSchemselnihar's confidant. At the sight of her, his tears began\nto flow afresh but he said nothing to her; and going into his own\nhouse, she followed him.\n\nThey sat down; when the jeweller beginning the conversation,\nasked the confidant, with a deep sigh, if she had heard of the\ndeath of the prince of Persia, and if it was on his account that\nshe grieved. \"Alas!\" answered she, \"What! is that charming prince\nthen dead? He has not lived long after his dear Schemselnihar.\nBeauteous souls,\" continued she, \"in whatsoever place ye now are,\nye must be happy that your loves will no more be interrupted.\nYour bodies were an obstacle to your wishes; but Heaven has\ndelivered you from them; ye may now form the closest union.\"\n\nThe jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar's death, and\nhad not reflected that the confidant was in mourning, suffered\nfresh grief at this intelligence. \"Is Schemselnihar then dead?\"\ncried he. \"She is,\" replied the confidant, weeping afresh, \"and\nit is for her I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death\nwere extraordinary,\" continued she, \"and deserve to be known to\nyou: but before I give you an account of them, I beg you to\nacquaint me with those of the prince of Persia, whom, with my\ndearest friend and mistress, I shall lament as long as I live.\"\n\nThe jeweller then gave the confidant the information she desired;\nand after he had told her all, even to the departure of the\nprince's mother to bring her son's body to Bagdad, she began and\nsaid, \"You have not forgotten that I told you the caliph had sent\nfor Schemselnihar to his palace. He had, as we had every reason\nto believe, been informed of the amour betwixt her and the prince\nby the two slaves, whom he had examined apart. You may imagine,\nhe would be exceedingly enraged at Schemselnihar's conduct, and\ngive striking proofs of his jealousy and of his impending\nvengeance against the prince. But this was by no means the case.\nHe pitied Schemselnihar, and in some measure blamed himself for\nwhat had happened, in giving her so much freedom to walk about\nthe city without being attended by his eunuchs. This is the only\nconclusion that could be drawn from his extraordinary behavior\ntowards her, as you will hear.\n\n\"He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed\nthat the melancholy which oppressed her did not lessen her beauty\n(for she appeared thus before him without surprise or fear), with\na goodness worthy himself, he said 'Schemselnihar, I cannot bear\nyour appearing before me thus with an air which gives me infinite\npain. You must needs be sensible how much I have always loved\nyou, and be convinced of the sincerity of my passion by the\ncontinued demonstrations I have given of it. I can never change\nmy mind, for I love you more than ever. You have enemies,\nSchemselnihar,' proceeded he, 'and those enemies have insinuated\nthings against your conduct, but all they have said against you\nhas not made the least impression upon me. Shake off then this\nmelancholy, and prepare to entertain me this night with some\namusing conversation, after your accustomed manner.' He said many\nother obliging things to her, and then desired her to step into a\nmagnificent apartment near her own, and wait for him.\n\n\"The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the caliph's\nkindness; but the more she thought herself obliged to him, the\nmore she was concerned that she was so far removed, perhaps for\never, from her prince, without whom she could not live.\n\n\"This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar,\" continued\nthe confidant, \"took place whilst I was come to speak to you, and\nI learned the particulars of it from my companions who were\npresent. But I had no sooner left you,\" proceeded she, \"than I\nwent to my dear mistress again, and was eye-witness to what\nhappened in the evening. I found her in the apartment I told you\nof; and as she though I came from you, she drew near me, and\nwhispering me, said, 'I am much obliged to you for the service\nyou have done me, but I feel it will be the last.' She said no\nmore; but I was not in a place proper to offer any thing to\ncomfort her.\n\n\"The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments\nwhich her women played upon, and the collation was immediately\nserved up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit\ndown with him on the sofa; she put such a force upon herself to\nplease him, that she expired a few minutes after. In short, she\nwas hardly set down, when she fell backwards. The caliph believed\nshe had only fainted, and so we all thought; but she never\nrecovered, and in this manner we lost her.\n\n\"The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able\nto refrain from tears; and before he left the room ordered all\nthe musical instruments to be broken; this was immediately done.\nI stayed with her corpse all night, and next morning washed and\ndressed her for her funeral, bathing her with my tears. The\ncaliph had her interred in a magnificent tomb he had erected for\nher in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be buried in.\nNow since you tell me,\" said she, \"the prince of Persia's body is\nto be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best endeavours that he\nshall be interred in the same tomb.\"\n\nThe jeweller was much surprised at this resolution of the\nconfidant, and said, \"Certainly you do not consider that the\ncaliph will never suffer this?\" \"You think the thing impossible,\"\nreplied she; \"it is not. You will alter your opinion when I tell\nyou that the caliph has given liberty to all her slaves, with a\npension to each for their support. He has committed to me the\ncare and keeping of my mistress's tomb, and allotted me an annual\nincome for that purpose, and for my maintenance. Besides, the\ncaliph, who was not ignorant of the amour between Schemselnihar\nand the prince, as I have already told you, without being\noffended, will not be sorry if after her death he be buried with\nher.\" To all this the jeweller had not a word to say. He\nearnestly entreated the confidant to conduct him to her\nmistress's tomb, that he might say his prayers over her. When he\ncame in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to find a vast\nconcourse of people of both sexes, who were come thither from all\nparts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he said his\nprayers at a distance; and then going to the confidant, who was\nwaiting hard by, said to her, \"I am now so far from thinking that\nwhat you proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I need\nonly publish abroad what we know of the amour of this unfortunate\ncouple, and how the prince died much about the same time with his\nmistress. Before his corpse arrives, all Bagdad will concur to\ndesire that two such faithful lovers, whom nothing could divide\nin affection whilst they lived, should not be separated when\ndead.\" It happened as he said; for as soon as it was known that\nthe corpse was within a day's journey of the city, an infinite\nnumber of people went above twenty miles to meet it, and\nafterwards walked before it till it came to the city gate; where\nthe confidant, waiting for that purpose, presented herself before\nthe prince's mother, and begged of her in the name of the whole\ncity, who earnestly desired it, that she would be pleased to\nconsent that the bodies of the two lovers, who had but one heart\nwhilst they lived, from the time their mutual passion commenced,\nmight be buried in the same tomb. The princess immediately\nconsented; and the corpse of the prince, instead of being\ndeposited in his own burying-place, was laid by Schemselnihar's\nside, after it had been carried along in procession at the head\nof an infinite number of people of all ranks. From that time all\nthe inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of\nthe world where the Mahummedan religion prevails have held that\ntomb in the highest veneration, and pay their devotions at it.\n\n\n\n\n     The Story of the Loves of Kummir Al Zummaun, Prince of\n     the Isles of the Children of Khaledan, and of Badoura,\n                       Princess of China.\n\n\n\nAbout twenty days' sail from the coast of Persia, there are\nislands in the main ocean called the Islands of the Children of\nKhaledan. These islands are divided into four great provinces,\nwhich have all of them very flourishing and populous cities,\nforming together a powerful kingdom. It was formerly governed by\na king named Shaw Zummaun, who had four lawful wives, all\ndaughters of kings, and sixty concubines.\n\nShaw Zummaun thought himself the most happy monarch of the world,\non account of his peaceful and prosperous reign. One thing only\ndisturbed his happiness; which was, that he was advanced in\nyears, and had no children, though he had so many wives. He knew\nnot to what to attribute this barrenness; and what increased his\naffliction was, that he was likely to leave his kingdom without a\nsuccessor. He dissembled his discontent, and this dissimulation\nonly heightened his uneasiness. At length he broke silence; and\none day after he had complained bitterly of his misfortune to his\ngrand vizier, he asked him if he knew any remedy for it?\n\nThat wise minister replied, \"If what your majesty requires of me\nhad depended on the ordinary rules of human wisdom, you had soon\nhad an answer to your satisfaction; but my experience and\nknowledge fall far short of your question. It is to God only that\nwe can apply in cases of this kind. In the midst of our\nprosperities, which often tempt us to forget him, he is pleased\nto mortify us in some instance, that we may address our thoughts\nto him, acknowledge his omnipotence, and ask of him what we ought\nto expect from him alone. Your majesty has subjects,\" proceeded\nhe \"who make a profession of honouring and serving God, and\nsuffering great hardships for his sake; to them I would advise\nyou to have recourse, and engage them, by alms, to join their\nprayers with yours. Perhaps some one among them may be so pure\nand pleasing to God as to obtain a hearing for your prayers.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun approved this advice, and thanked his vizier. He\nimmediately caused alms to be given to every community of these\nholy men in his dominions: and having sent for the superiors,\ndeclared to them his intention, and desired them to acquaint\ntheir devout men with it.\n\nThe king obtained of Heaven what he requested, for in nine\nmonths' time he had a son by one of his wives. To express his\ngratitude to Heaven, he sent fresh alms to the communities of\ndevotees, and the prince's birth-day was celebrated not only in\nhis capital, but throughout his dominions, for a whole week. The\nprince was brought to him as soon as born, and he found him so\nbeautiful that he gave him the name of Kummir al Zummaun, or Moon\nof the Age.\n\nHe was brought up with all imaginable care; and when he had\narrived at a proper age, his father appointed him an experienced\ngovernor and able preceptors. These persons, distinguished by\ntheir capacity, found in him a ready wit capable of receiving all\nthe instructions that were proper to be given him, as well in\nrelation to morals as other knowledge which a prince ought to\npossess. As he grew up, he learned all his exercises, and\nacquitted himself with such grace and wonderful address, as to\ncharm all that saw him, and particularly the sultan his father.\n\nWhen he had attained the age of fifteen, the sultan, who tenderly\nloved him, and gave him every day new marks of his affection,\nproposed to afford a still higher demonstration by resigning his\nthrone to him, and he accordingly acquainted his grand vizier\nwith his intentions. \"I fear,\" said he, \"lest my son should lose\nin the inactivity of youth those advantages which nature and my\neducation have give him; therefore, since I am advanced in age,\nand ought to think of retirement I propose to resign the\ngovernment to him, and pass the remainder of my days in the\nsatisfaction of seeing him reign. I have borne the fatigue of a\ncrown till I am weary of it, and think it is now proper for me to\nretire.\"\n\nThe grand vizier declined offering all the reasons he could have\nalleged to dissuade the sultan from such a proceeding; on the\ncontrary, he appeared to acquiesce with him in his opinion.\n\"Sir,\" replied he, \"the prince is yet but young, and it would\nnot, in my humble opinion, be advisable to burden him with the\nweight of a crown so soon. Your majesty fears, with great reason,\nhis youth may be corrupted by indolence: but to avoid this\ndanger, do not you think it would be proper to marry him?\nMarriage forms attachment, and prevents dissipation. Your majesty\nmight then admit him of your council, where he would learn by\ndegrees the art of reigning; and so be prepared to receive your\nauthority, whenever by your own experience you shall think him\nqualified.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun approved the advice of his prime minister; and\nsummoned the prince to appear before him, at the same time that\nhe dismissed the grand vizier.\n\nThe prince, who had been accustomed to see his father only at\ncertain times without being sent for, was a little startled at\nthis summons; when, therefore, he came into his presence, he\nsaluted him with great respect, and stood with his eyes fixed on\nthe ground.\n\nThe sultan perceiving his constraint, addressed him with great\nmildness, \"Do you know, son, for what reason I have sent for\nyou?\" The prince modestly replied, \"God alone knows the heart: I\nshall hear it from your majesty with pleasure.\" \"I sent for you,\"\nresumed the sultan, \"to inform you that it is my intention to\nprovide a proper marriage for you: what do you think of my\ndesign?\"\n\nThe prince heard this with great uneasiness: he was greatly\nagitated, and knew not what answer to make. After a few moments\nsilence, he replied, \"Sir, I beseech you to pardon me if I seem\nsurprised at the declaration you have made. I did not expect such\nproposals at my present age. I know not whether I could prevail\non myself to marry, on account of the trouble incident to a\nmarried life, and the many treacheries of women, which I have\nread of. I may not be always of the same mind, yet I conceive it\nwill require time to determine on what your majesty requires of\nme.\"\n\nThe prince's answer extremely afflicted his father. He was not a\nlittle grieved to discover his aversion to marriage; yet would\nnot charge him with disobedience, nor exert his paternal\nauthority. He contented himself with telling him, he would not\nforce his inclinations, but give him time to consider of the\nproposal; and reflect, that a prince destined to govern a great\nkingdom ought to take some care to leave a successor; and that in\ngiving himself that satisfaction he communicated it to his\nfather, who would be glad to see himself revive in his son and\nhis issue.\n\nShaw Zummaun said no more to the prince but admitted him into his\ncouncil, and gave him every reason to be satisfied. At the end of\nthe year he took him aside, and said to him; \"My son, have you\nthoroughly considered what I proposed to you last year about\nmarrying? Will you still refuse me that pleasure I expect from\nyour obedience, and suffer me to die without affording me that\nsatisfaction?\"\n\nThe prince seemed less disconcerted than before; and was not long\nanswering his father to this effect: \"Sir, I have not neglected\nto consider of your proposal; but after the maturest reflection\nfind myself more confirmed in my resolution to continue in a\nstate of celibacy. The infinite mischief which women have caused\nin the world, and which are on record in our histories, and the\naccounts I daily hear to their disadvantage, are the motives\nwhich powerfully influence me against having any thing to do with\nthem; so that I hope your majesty will pardon me if I presume to\ntell you, it will be in vain to solicit me any further upon this\nsubject.\" As soon as he had thus spoken, he quitted the sultan\nabruptly without waiting his answer.\n\nAny monarch but Shaw Zummaun would have been angry at such\nfreedom in a son, and would have made him repent; but he loved\nhim, and preferred gentle methods before he proceeded to\ncompulsion. He communicated this new cause of discontent to his\nprime minister. \"I have followed your advice,\" said he, \"but\nKummir al Zummaun is farther than ever from complying with my\ndesires. He delivered his determination in such free terms, that\nit required all my reason and moderation to keep my temper.\nFathers who so earnestly desire children as I did this son are\nfools, who seek to deprive themselves of that rest which it is in\ntheir own power to enjoy without control. Tell me, I beseech you,\nhow I shall reclaim a disposition so rebellious to my will?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the grand vizier, \"patience brings many things\nabout that before seemed impracticable; but it may be this affair\nis of a nature not likely to succeed that way. Your majesty will\nhave no cause to reproach yourself for precipitation, if you\nwould give the prince another year to consider your proposal. If\nin this interval he return to his duty, you will have the greater\nsatisfaction, as you will have employed only paternal love to\ninduce him; and if he still continue averse when this is expired,\nyour majesty may in full council observe, that it is highly\nnecessary for the good of the state that he should marry; and it\nis not likely he will refuse to comply before so grave an\nassembly, which you honour with your presence.\"\n\nThe sultan, who so anxiously desired to see his son married,\nthought this long delay an age; however, though with much\ndifficulty, he yielded to his grand vizier's reasons, which he\ncould not disapprove.\n\nAfter the grand vizier was gone, the sultan went to the apartment\nof the mother of prince Kummir al Zummaun, to whom he had often\nexpressed his desire to see the prince married. When he had told\nher, with much concern, how his son had a second time refused to\ncomply with his wishes, and the indulgence which, by the advice\nof his grand vizier, he was inclined to shew him; he said, \"I\nknow he has more confidence in you than he has in me, and will be\nmore likely to attend to your advice. I therefore desire you\nwould take an opportunity to talk to him seriously, and urge upon\nhim, that if he persists in his obstinacy, he will oblige me to\nhave recourse to measures which would be disagreeable to me, and\nwhich would give him cause to repent having disobeyed me.\"\n\nFatima, for so was the lady called, told the prince the first\ntime she saw him, that she had been informed of his second\nrefusal to marry; and how much chagrin his resolution had\noccasioned his father. \"Madam,\" replied the prince, \"I beseech\nyou not to renew my grief upon that head. I fear, under my\npresent uneasiness, something may escape me, which may not be\nconsistent with the respect I owe you.\" Fatima judged from this\nanswer that this was not a proper time to speak to him, and\ntherefore deferred what she had to say to another opportunity.\n\nSome considerable time after, Fatima thought she had found a more\nfavourable season, which gave her hopes of being heard upon that\nsubject. \"Son,\" said she, \"I beg of you, if it be not\ndisagreeable, to tell me what reason you have for your great\naversion to marriage? If it be the wickedness of some women,\nnothing can be more unreasonable and weak. I will not undertake\nthe defence of those that are bad; there are a great number of\nthem undoubtedly; but it would be the height of injustice on\ntheir account to condemn all the sex. Alas! my son, you have in\nyour books read of many bad women, who have occasioned great\nmischief, and I will not excuse them: but you do not consider how\nmany monarchs, sultans, and other princes there have been in the\nworld, whose tyrannies, barbarities, and cruelties astonish those\nthat read of them, as well as myself. Now, for one wicked woman,\nyou will meet with a thousand tyrants and barbarians; and what\ntorment do you think must a good woman undergo, who is matched\nwith any of these wretches?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the prince, \"I doubt not there are a great\nnumber of wise, virtuous, good, affable, and well-behaved women\nin the world; would to God they all resembled you! But what\ndeters me is, the hazardous choice a man is obliged to make, and\noftentimes one has not the liberty of following his inclination.\n\n\"Let us suppose then, madam,\" continued he, \"that I had a mind to\nmarry, as the sultan my father so earnestly desires; what wife,\nthink you, would he be likely to provide for me? Probably a\nprincess whom he would demand of some neighbouring prince, and\nwho would think it an honour done him to send her. Handsome or\nugly, she must be taken; nay, suppose no other princess excelled\nher in beauty, who can be certain that her temper would be good;\nthat she would be affable, complaisant, easy, obliging, and the\nlike? That her conversation would generally turn on solid\nsubjects, and not on dress, fashions, ornaments, and a thousand\nsuch fooleries, which would disgust any man of sense? In a word,\nthat she would not be haughty, proud, arrogant, impertinent,\nscornful, and waste an estate in frivolous expenses, such as gay\nclothes, jewels, toys, and foolish mistaken magnificence?\n\n\"You see, madam,\" continued he, \"by one single article, how many\nreasons a man may have to be disgusted at marriage. Let this\nprincess be ever so perfect, accomplished, and irreproachable in\nher conduct, I have yet a great many more reasons not to alter my\nopinion and resolution.\"\n\n\"What, son,\" exclaimed Fatima; \"have you then more reasons after\nthose you have already alleged? I do not doubt of being able to\nanswer them, and stop your mouth with a word.\" \"You may proceed,\nmadam,\" returned the prince, \"and perhaps I may find a reply to\nyour answer.\"\n\n\"I mean, son,\" said Fatima, \"that it is easy for a prince, who\nhas had the misfortune to marry such a wife as you describe, to\nget rid of her, and take care that she may not ruin the state.\"\n\"Ah, madam,\" replied the prince, \"but you do not consider what a\nmortification it would be to a person of my quality to be obliged\nto come to such an extremity. Would it not have been more for his\nhonour and quiet that he had never run such a risk?\"\n\n\"But, son,\" said Fatima once more, \"as you take the case, I\napprehend you have a mind to be the last king of your race, who\nhave reigned so long and gloriously over the isles of the\nchildren of Khaledan?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the prince, \"for myself I do not desire to\nsurvive the king my father; and if I should die before him, it\nwould be no great matter of wonder, since so many children have\ndied before their parents. But it is always glorious to a race of\nkings, that it should end with a prince worthy to be so, as I\nshould endeavour to make myself like my predecessors, and like\nthe first of our race.\"\n\nFrom that time Fatima had frequent conferences with her son the\nprince on the same subject; and she omitted no opportunity or\nargument to endeavour to root out his aversion to the fair sex;\nbut he eluded all her reasonings by such arguments as she could\nnot well answer, and continued unaltered.\n\nThe year expired, and, to the great regret of the sultan, prince\nKummir al Zummaun gave not the least proof of having changed his\nsentiments. One day, therefore, when there was a great council\nheld, the prime vizier, the other viziers, the principal officers\nof the crown, and the generals of the army being present, the\nsultan thus addressed the prince: \"My son, it is now a long while\nsince I expressed to you my earnest desire to see you married,\nand I imagined you would have had more complaisance for a father,\nwho required nothing unreasonable of you, than to oppose him so\nlong. But after such a resistance on your part, which has almost\nworn out my patience, I have thought fit to propose the same\nthing once more to you in the presence of my council. It is not\nmerely to oblige a parent that you ought to have acceded to my\nwish, the well-being of my dominions requires your compliance,\nand this assembly join with me in expecting it: declare yourself,\nthen; that your answer may regulate my proceedings.\"\n\nThe prince answered with so little reserve, or rather with so\nmuch warmth, that the sultan, enraged to see himself thwarted by\nhim in full council, exclaimed, \"How, unnatural son! have you the\ninsolence to talk thus to your father and sultan?\" He ordered the\nguards to take him away, and carry him to an old tower that had\nbeen long unoccupied; where he was shut up, with only a bed, a\nlittle furniture, some books, and one slave to attend him.\n\nKummir al Zummaun, thus deprived of liberty, was nevertheless\npleased that he had the freedom to converse with his books, which\nmade him regard his confinement with indifference. In the evening\nhe bathed and said his prayers; and after having read some\nchapters in the Koraun, with the same tranquillity of mind as if\nhe had been in the sultan's palace, he undressed himself and went\nto bed, leaving his lamp burning by him while he slept.\n\nIn this tower was a well, which served in the daytime for a\nretreat to a certain fairy, named Maimoune, daughter of Damriat,\nking or head of a legion of genies. It was about midnight when\nMaimoune sprung lightly to the mouth of the well, to wander about\nthe world after her wonted custom, where her curiosity led her.\nShe was surprised to see a light in the prince's chamber. She\nentered, and without stopping at the slave who lay at the door,\napproached the bed.\n\nThe prince had but half covered his face with the bed-clothes,\nwhich Maimoune lifted up, and perceived the finest young man she\nhad ever seen in her rambles through the world. \"What beauty, or\nrather what prodigy of beauty,\" said she within herself, \"must\nthis youth appear, when the eyes, concealed by such well-formed\neyelids, shall be open? What crime can he have committed, that a\nman of his high rank can deserve to be treated thus rigorously?\"\nfor she had already heard his story, and could hardly believe it.\n\nShe could not forbear admiring the prince, till at length having\nkissed him gently on both cheeks, and in the middle of the\nforehead, without waking him, she laid the bed-clothes in the\norder they were in before, and took her flight into the air. As\nshe was ascending into the middle region, she heard a great\nflapping of wings, towards which she directed her course; and\nwhen she approached, she knew it was a genie who made the noise,\nbut it was one of those that are rebellious against God. As for\nMaimoune, she belonged to that class whom the great Solomon had\ncompelled to acknowledge him.\n\nThis genie, whose name was Danhasch, and son of Schamhourasch,\nknew Maimoune, and was seized with fear, being sensible how much\npower she had over him by her submission to the Almighty. He\nwould fain have avoided her, but she was so near him, he must\neither fight or yield. He therefore broke silence first.\n\n\"Brave Maimoune,\" said he, in the tone of a suppliant, \"swear to\nme in the name of the great God, that you will not hurt me; and I\nswear also on my part not to do you any harm.\"\n\n\"Cursed genie,\" replied Maimoune, \"what hurt canst thou do me? I\nfear thee not; but I will grant thee this favour; I will swear\nnot to do thee any harm. Tell me then, wandering spirit, whence\nthou comest, what thou hast seen, and what thou hast done this\nnight?\" \"Fair lady,\" answered Danhasch, \"you meet me in a good\ntime to hear something very wonderful.\"\n\nDanhasch, the genie rebellious against God, proceeded and said to\nMaimoune, \"Since you desire, I will inform you that I have come\nfrom the utmost limits of China, which comprise the remotest\nislands of this hemisphere. . . . . But, charming Maimoune,\" said\nDanhasch, who trembled with fear at the sight of this fairy, so\nthat he could hardly speak, \"promise me at least you will forgive\nme, and let me proceed after I have satisfied your request.\"\n\n\"Go on, cursed spirit,\" replied Maimoune; \"go on, and fear\nnothing. Dost thou think I am as perfidious as thyself, and\ncapable of breaking the solemn oath I have made? Be sure you\nrelate nothing but what is true, or I shall clip thy wings, and\ntreat thee as thou deserves.\"\n\nDanhasch, a little encouraged by the words of Maimoune, said, \"My\ndear lady, I will tell you nothing but what is strictly true, if\nyou will but have the goodness to hear me. The country of China,\nfrom whence I come, is one of the largest and most powerful\nkingdoms of the earth, on which depend the remotest islands of\nthis hemisphere, as I have already told you. The king of this\ncountry is at present Gaiour, who has an only daughter, the\nfinest woman that ever was seen in the world since it has been a\nworld. Neither you nor I, neither your class nor mine, nor all\nour respective genies, have expressions forcible enough, nor\neloquence sufficient to convey an adequate description of her\ncharms. Her hair is brown, and of such length as to trail on the\nground; and so thick, that when she has fastened it in buckles on\nher head, it may be fitly compared to one of those fine clusters\nof grapes whose fruit is so very large. Her forehead is as smooth\nas the best polished mirror, and admirably formed. Her eyes are\nblack, sparkling, and full of fire. Her nose is neither too long\nnor too short, and her mouth small and of a vermilion colour. Her\nteeth are like two rows of pearls, and surpass the finest in\nwhiteness. When she moves her tongue to speak, she utters a sweet\nand most agreeable voice; and expresses herself in such terms, as\nsufficiently indicate the vivacity of her wit. The whitest\nalabaster is not fairer than her neck. In a word, by this\nimperfect sketch, you may guess there is no beauty likely to\nexceed her in the world.\n\n\"Any one that did not know the king, the father of this\nincomparable princess, would be apt to imagine, from the great\nrespect and kindness he shews her, that he was enamoured with\nher. Never did a lover more for the most beloved mistress than he\nhas been seen to do for her. The most violent jealousy never\nsuggested such measures as his care has led him to adopt, to keep\nher from every one but the man who is to marry her: and that the\nretreat in which he has resolved to place her may not seem\nirksome, he has built for her seven palaces, the most\nextraordinary and magnificent that ever were known.\n\n\"The first palace is of rock crystal, the second of brass, the\nthird of fine steel, the fourth of another kind of brass more\nvaluable than the former and also than steel, the fifth of\ntouchstone, the sixth of silver, and the seventh of massive gold.\nHe has furnished these palaces most sumptuously, each in a manner\ncorresponding to the materials of the structure. He has\nembellished the gardens with parterres of grass and flowers,\nintermixed with pieces of water, water-works, jets d'eau, canals,\ncascades, and several great groves of trees, where the eye is\nlost in the perspective, and where the sun never enters, and all\ndifferently arranged. King Gaiour, in a word, has shewn that his\npaternal love has led him to spare no expense.\n\n\"Upon the fame of this incomparable princess's beauty, the most\npowerful neighbouring kings have sent ambassadors to solicit her\nin marriage. The king of China received them all in the same\nobliging manner; but as he resolved not to marry his daughter\nwithout her consent, and she did not like any of the parties, the\nambassadors were forced to return as they came, as to the subject\nof their embassy; they were perfectly satisfied with the great\nhonours and civilities they had received.\n\n\"'Sir,' said the princess to the king her father, 'you have an\ninclination to see me married, and think to oblige me by it; but\nwhere shall I find such stately palaces and delicious gardens as\nare furnished me by your majesty? Through your good pleasure I am\nunder no constraint, and have the same honours shewn to me as are\npaid to yourself. These are advantages I cannot expect to find\nany where else, whoever may be my husband; men love to be\nmasters, and I have no inclination to be commanded.'\n\n\"After several other embassies on the same occasion, there\narrived one from a king more opulent and powerful than any of the\npreceding. This prince the king of China recommended to his\ndaughter for her husband, urging many forcible arguments to shew\nhow much it would be to her advantage to accept him, but she\nentreated her father to excuse her compliance for the reasons she\nhad before urged. He pressed her; but instead of consenting, she\nlost all the respect due to the king her father: 'Sir,' said\nshe, in anger, 'talk to me no more of this or any other match,\nunless you would have me plunge this dagger in my bosom, to\ndeliver myself from your importunities.'\n\n\"The king, greatly enraged, said, 'Daughter, you are mad, and I\nmust treat you accordingly.' In a word, he had her shut up in a\nsingle apartment of one of his palaces, and allowed her only ten\nold women to wait upon her, and keep her company, the chief of\nwhom had been her nurse That the kings his neighbours, who had\nsent embassies to him on her account, might not think any more of\nher, he despatched envoys to them severally, to let them know how\naverse his daughter was to marriage; and as he did not doubt but\nshe was really mad, he charged them to make known in every court,\nthat if there were any physician that would undertake to cure\nher, he should, if he succeeded, have her for his pains.\n\n\"Fair Maimoune,\" continued Danhasch, \"all that I have told you is\ntrue; and I have gone every day regularly to contemplate this\nincomparable beauty, to whom I would be sorry to do the least\nharm, notwithstanding my natural inclination to mischief. Come\nand see her, I conjure you; it would be well worth your while.\nWhen you have seen from your own observation that I am no liar, I\nam persuaded you will think yourself obliged to me for the sight\nof a princess unequalled in beauty.\"\n\nInstead of answering Danhasch, Maimoune burst out into violent\nlaughter, which lasted for some time; and Danhasch, not knowing\nwhat might be the occasion of it, was astonished beyond measure.\nWhen she had done laughing, she exclaimed, \"Good, good, very\ngood! You would have me then believe all you have told me? I\nthought you designed to tell me something surprising and\nextraordinary, and you have been talking all this while of a mad\nwoman. Fie, fie! what would you say, cursed genie, if you had\nseen the beautiful prince from whom I am just come, and whom I\nlove as he deserves. I am confident you would soon give up the\ncontest, and not pretend to compare your choice with mine.\"\n\n\"Agreeable Maimoune,\" replied Danhasch, \"may I presume to ask who\nthis prince you speak of is?\" \"Know,\" answered Maimoune, \"the\nsame thing has happened to him as to your princess. The king his\nfather would have married him against his will; but after much\nimportunity, he frankly told him he would have nothing to do with\na wife. For this reason he is at this moment imprisoned in an old\ntower where I reside.\"\n\n\"I will not absolutely contradict you,\" replied Danhasch; \"but,\nmy pretty lady, you must give me leave to be of opinion, till I\nhave seen your prince, that no mortal upon earth can equal my\nprincess in beauty.\" \"Hold thy tongue, cursed sprite,\" replied\nMaimoune. \"I tell thee once more thou art wrong.\" \"I will not\ncontend with you,\" said Danhasch, \"but the way to be convinced,\nwhether what I say be true or false, is to accept of my proposal\nto go and see my princess, and after that I will go with you to\nyour prince.\"\n\n\"There is no need I should be at so much trouble,\" replied Maimoune;\n\"there is another way to satisfy us both; and that is, for you to\nbring your princess, and place her at my prince's bed-side: by this\nmeans it will be easy for us to compare them together, and determine\nthe dispute.\"\n\nDanhasch consented, and determined to set out immediately for\nChina. But Maimoune drew him aside, and told him, she must first\nshew him the tower whither he was to bring the princess. They\nflew together to the tower, and when Maimoune had strewn it to\nDanhasch, she cried, \"Go fetch your princess, and do it quickly,\nyou will find me here.\"\n\nDanhasch left Maimoune, and flew towards China, whence he soon\nreturned with incredible speed, bringing the fair princess along\nwith him asleep. Maimoune received him, and introduced him into\nthe chamber of Kummir al Zummaun, where they placed the princess\nby the prince's side.\n\nWhen the prince and princess were thus laid together, there arose\na sharp contest between the genie and the fairy about the\npreference of their beauty. They were some time admiring and\ncomparing them without speaking; at length Danhasch said to\nMaimoune, \"You see, and I have already told you, my princess was\nhandsomer than your prince; now, I hope, you are convinced.\"\n\n\"How! convinced!\" replied Maimoune; \"I am not convinced, and you\nmust be blind, if you cannot see that my prince excels in the\ncomparison. That the princess is fair, I do not deny; but if you\ncompare them together without prejudice, you will soon see the\ndifference.\"\n\n\"How much soever I may compare them,\" returned Danhasch, \"I shall\nnever change my opinion. I saw at first sight what I now behold,\nand time will not make me see differently: however, this shall\nnot hinder my yielding to you, charming Maimoune, if you desire\nit.\" \"What! have you yield to me as a favour! I scorn it,\" said\nMaimoune, \"I would not receive a favour at the hand of such a\nwicked genie. I will refer the matter to an umpire, and if you do\nnot consent, I shall win by your refusal.\"\n\nDanhasch, who was ready to have shewn a different kind of\ncomplaisance, no sooner gave his consent, than Maimoune stamped with\nher foot. The earth opened, and out came a hideous, hump-backed,\nsquinting, and lame genie, with six horns upon his head, and claws on\nhis hands and feet. As soon as he was come out, and the earth had\nclosed, perceiving Maimoune, he threw himself at her feet, and then\nrising on one knee, inquired her commands.\n\n\"Rise, Caschcasch,\" said Maimoune, \"I brought you hither to\ndetermine a difference between me and this cursed Danhasch. Look\non that bed, and tell me without partiality who is the handsomer\nof those two that lie there asleep, the young man or the young\nlady.\"\n\nCaschcasch looked on the prince and princess with great\nattention, admiration, and surprise; and after he had considered\nthem a good while, without being able to determine, he turned to\nMaimoune, and said, \"Madam, I must confess I should deceive you,\nand betray myself, if I pretended to say one was handsomer than\nthe other. The more I examine them, the more clearly it appears\nto me each possesses, in a sovereign degree, the beauty of which\nboth partake. Neither of them appears to have the least defect,\nto yield to the other the palm of superiority; but if there be\nany difference, the best way to determine it is, to awaken them\none after the other, and to agree that the person who shall\nexpress most love for the other by ardour, eagerness, and\npassion, shall be deemed to have in some respect less beauty.\"\n\nThis proposal of Caschcasch's pleased both Maimoune and Danhasch.\nMaimoune then changed herself into a flea, and leaping on the\nprince's neck, stung him so smartly, that he awoke, and put up\nhis hand to the place; but Maimoune skipped away, and resumed her\npristine form, which, like those of the two genies, was\ninvisible, the better to observe what he would do.\n\nIn drawing back his hand, the prince chanced to let it fall on\nthat of the princess of China. He opened his eyes, and was\nexceedingly surprised to find lying by him a lady of the greatest\nbeauty. He raised his head, and leaned on his elbow, the better\nto observe her. Her blooming youth and incomparable beauty fired\nhim in a moment with a flame of which he had never yet been\nsensible, and from which he had hitherto guarded himself with the\ngreatest attention.\n\nLove seized on his heart in the most lively manner, and he\nexclaimed, \"What beauty! what charms! my heart! my soul!\" As he\nspoke he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her mouth with so\nlittle caution, that he would have awakened her, had she not\nslept sounder than ordinary, through the enchantment of Danhasch.\n\n\"How!\" said the prince, \"do you not awake at these testimonies of\nlove?\" He was going to awake her, but suddenly refrained. \"Is not\nthis she,\" said he, \"that the sultan my father would have had me\nmarry? He was in the wrong not to let me see her sooner. I should\nnot have offended him by my disobedience and passionate language\nto him in public, and he would have spared himself the confusion\nwhich I have occasioned him.\"\n\nThe prince began to repent sincerely of the fault he had\ncommitted, and was once more on the point of awaking the princess\nof China. \"It may be,\" said he, \"that the sultan my father has a\nmind to surprise me; and has sent this young lady to try if I had\nreally that aversion to marriage which I pretended. Who knows but\nhe has brought her himself, and is hidden behind the hangings, to\nobserve me, and make me ashamed of my dissimulation? The second\nfault would be greater than the first. At all events, I will\ncontent myself with this ring, as a remembrance of her.\"\n\nHe then gently drew off a ring which the princess had on her\nfinger, and immediately replaced it with one of his own. After\nthis he fell into a more profound sleep than before, through the\nenchantment of the genies.\n\nDanhasch now transformed himself into a flea in his turn, and bit\nthe princess so rudely on the lip, that she awoke, started up,\nand on opening her eyes, was not a little surprised to see a man\nlying by her side. From surprise she proceeded to admiration, and\nfrom admiration to a transport of joy, at beholding so beautiful\nand lovely a youth.\n\n\"What!\" cried she, \"is it you the king my father has designed me\nfor a husband? Would that I had known it, for then I should not\nhave displeased him, nor been deprived of a husband whom I cannot\nforbear loving. Wake then, awake!\"\n\nSo saying, she took the prince by the arm, and shook him so\nviolently, that he would have awaked, had not Maimoune increased\nhis sleep by her enchantment. She shook him several times, and\nfinding he did not awake, exclaimed, \"What is come to thee? what\njealous rival, envying thy happiness and mine, has had recourse\nto magic to throw thee into this unconquerable drowsiness when\nthou shouldst be most awake?\" Tired at length with her fruitless\nendeavours to awaken the prince; \"Since,\" said she, \"I find it is\nnot in my power to awake thee, I will no longer disturb thy\nrepose, but wait our next meeting.\" After having kissed his\ncheek, she lay down and fell asleep by enchantment.\n\nMaimoune now cried out to Danhasch, \"Ah, cursed genie, art thou\nnot now convinced how much thy princess is inferior to my prince?\nAnother time believe me when I assert any thing.\" Then turning to\nCaschcasch, \"As for you,\" said she, \"I thank you for your\ntrouble; take the princess, in conjunction with Danhasch, and\nconvey her back again to her bed, from whence he has taken her.\"\nDanhasch and Caschcasch did as they were commanded, and Maimoune\nretired to her well.\n\nKummir al Zummaun on waking next morning, looked if the lady whom\nhe had seen the night before were by him. When he found she was\ngone, he cried out, \"I thought indeed this was a trick the king\nmy father designed to play me. I am glad I was aware of it.\" He\nthen awaked the slave, who was still asleep, and after he had\nwashed and said his prayers, took a book and read some time.\n\nAfter these usual exercises, he called the slave, and said to\nhim, \"Come hither, and be sure you do not tell me a lie. How came\nthe lady hither who lay with me to-night, and who brought her?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" answered the slave with great astonishment, \"I know\nnot what lady your highness speaks of.\" \"I speak,\" said the\nprince, \"of her who came, or rather was brought hither, and lay\nwith me to-night.\" \"My lord,\" replied the slave, \"I swear I know\nof no such lady; and how should she come in without my knowledge,\nsince I lay at the door?\"\n\n\"You are a lying knave,\" replied the prince, \"and in the plot to\nvex and provoke me.\" He then gave him a box on the ear, which\nknocked him down; and after having stamped upon him for some\ntime, he tied the well-rope under his arms, and plunged him\nseveral times into the water, neck and heels. \"I will drown\nthee,\" cried he, \"if thou dost not tell me directly who this lady\nwas, and who brought her.\"\n\nThe slave, perplexed and half dead, said within himself, \"The\nprince must have lost his senses through grief, and I shall not\nescape if I do not tell him a falsehood. My lord,\" cried he, in a\nsuppliant tone, \"I beseech your highness to spare my life, and I\nwill tell you the truth.\"\n\nThe prince drew the slave up, and pressed him to tell him. As\nsoon as he was out of the well, \"My lord,\" said he, trembling,\n\"your highness must perceive it is impossible for me to satisfy\nyou in my present condition; I beg you to give me leave first to\ngo and change my clothes.\" \"I permit you, but do it quickly,\"\nsaid the prince; \"and be sure you conceal nothing.\"\n\nThe slave went out, and having locked the door upon the prince,\nran to the palace just as he was. The king was at that time in\ndiscourse with his prime vizier, to whom he had just related the\ngrief in which he had passed the night on account of his son's\ndisobedience and opposition to his will.\n\nThe minister endeavoured to comfort his master, by telling him,\nthe prince himself had given him cause for his severity. \"Sir,\"\nsaid he, \"your majesty need not repent of having treated your son\nin this manner. Have but patience to let him continue a while in\nprison, and assure yourself his heat will abate, and he will\nsubmit to all you require.\"\n\nThe grand vizier had but just done speaking when the slave came\nin, and cast himself at the feet of the sovereign. \"My lord,\"\nsaid he, \"I am sorry to be the messenger of ill news to your\nmajesty, which I know must occasion you fresh affliction. The\nprince is distracted; he raves of a lady having lain with him all\nnight, and his treatment of me, as you may see, too plainly\nproves the state of his mind.\" Then he proceeded to relate the\nparticulars of what the prince had said, and the violence with\nwhich he had been treated.\n\nThe king, who did not expect to hear any thing of this afflicting\nkind, said to the prime minister, \"This is a melancholy turn,\nvery different from the hopes you gave me: go immediately and\nexamine the condition of my son.\"\n\nThe grand vizier obeyed; and coming into the prince's chamber,\nfound him sitting on his bed with a book in his hand, which he\nwas reading.\n\nAfter mutual salutations, the vizier said, \"My lord, I wish that\na slave of yours were punished for coming to alarm the king your\nfather by news that he has brought him.\"\n\n\"What is it,\" demanded the prince, \"that could give my father so\nmuch uneasiness?\"\n\n\"Prince,\" answered the vizier, \"God forbid that the intelligence\nhe has conveyed to your father concerning you should be true;\nindeed, I find it to be false, by the calm temper in which I\nobserve you, and which I pray you to continue.\"\n\n\"It may be,\" replied the prince, \"he did not make himself well\nunderstood; but since you are come, who ought to know something\nof the matter, permit me to ask you who that lady was that lay\nwith me last night?\"\n\nThe grand vizier was thunderstruck at this question; he recovered\nhimself and said, \"My lord, be not surprised at my astonishment\nat your question. Is it possible, that a lady or any other person\nshould penetrate by night into this place without entering at the\ndoor, and walking over the body of your slave? I beseech you,\nrecollect yourself, and you will find it is only a dream which\nhas made this impression on you.\"\n\n\"I give no ear to what you say,\" replied the prince, raising his\nvoice. \"I must know from you absolutely what is become of the\nlady; and if you hesitate, I am in a place where I shall soon be\nable to force you to obey me.\"\n\nAt this stern language, the grand vizier began to feel more\nalarmed than before, and to think how he could extricate himself.\nHe endeavoured to pacify the prince, and begged of him, in the\nmost humble and guarded manner, to tell him if he had seen this\nlady.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" answered the prince, \"I have seen her, and am very\nwell satisfied you sent her here to tempt me. She played the part\nin which you had instructed her admirably well. She pretended to\nbe asleep, and I had no sooner fallen into a slumber, than she\narose and left me. You know all this; for I doubt not she has\nbeen to make her report to you.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the vizier, \"I swear to you nothing of this\nkind has been acted; neither your father nor I sent this lady you\nspeak of; permit me therefore once more to suggest to your\nhighness, that you have only seen this lady in a dream.\"\n\n\"Do you come to affront and contradict me,\" said the prince in a\nrage, \"and to tell me to my face, that what I have told you is a\ndream?\" At the same time he took him by the beard, and loaded him\nwith blows, as long as he could stand.\n\nThe grand vizier endured with respectful patience all the\nviolence of the prince's indignation, and could not help saying\nwithin himself, \"Now am I in as bad a condition as the slave, and\nshall think myself happy, if I can, like him, escape from any\nfurther danger.\" In the midst of repeated blows, he cried out but\nfor a moment's audience, which the prince, after he had nearly\ntired himself with beating him, consented to give him.\n\n\"I own, my prince,\" said the grand vizier dissembling, \"there is\nsomething in what your highness suspects; but you cannot be\nignorant of the necessity a minister is under to obey his royal\nmaster's commands: yet, if you will but be pleased to set me at\nliberty, I will go and tell him any thing on your behalf that you\nshall think fit to require.\" \"Go then,\" said the prince, \"and\ntell him from me, if he pleases, I will marry the lady he sent\nme, or, rather, that was brought to me last night. Do this\nimmediately, and bring me a speedy answer.\" The grand vizier made\na profound reverence and went away, not thinking himself\naltogether safe till he had got out of the tower, and had closed\nthe door on the prince.\n\nHe came and presented himself before Shaw Zummaun, with a\ncountenance that sufficiently shewed he had been ill used, and\nwhich the king could not behold without concern. \"Well,\" said the\nking, \"in what condition did you find my son?\" \"Sir,\" answered\nthe vizier, \"what the slave reported to your majesty is but too\ntrue.\" He then began to relate his interview with the prince, how\nhe flew into a passion upon his endeavouring to persuade him it\nwas impossible the lady he spoke of should have been introduced;\nthe ill treatment he had received from him; how he had used him,\nand by what means he had made his escape.\n\nThe king, the more concerned as he loved the prince with\nexcessive tenderness, resolved to find out the truth, and\ntherefore proposed to go himself and see his son in the tower,\naccompanied by the grand vizier.\n\nThe prince received his father in the tower, where he was\nconfined, with great respect. The king put several questions to\nhim, which he answered calmly. The king every now and then looked\non the grand vizier, as intimating he did not find his son had\nlost his wits, but rather thought he had lost his.\n\nThe king at length spoke of the lady to the prince. \"My son,\"\nsaid he, \"I desire you to tell me what lady it was who lay with\nyou last night.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the prince, \"I beg of your majesty not to give me\nmore vexation on that head, but rather to oblige me by letting me\nhave her in marriage; whatever aversion I may hitherto have\ndiscovered for women, this young lady has charmed me to that\ndegree, that I cannot help confessing my weakness. I am ready to\nreceive her at your majesty's hands, with the deepest gratitude.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun was surprised at this answer of the prince, so\nremote, as he thought, from the good sense he had strewn before.\n\"My son,\" said he, \"you fill me with the greatest astonishment by\nwhat you say: I swear to you I know nothing of the lady you\nmention; and if any such has come to you, it was without my\nknowledge or privily. But how could she get into this tower\nwithout my consent? For whatever my grand vizier told you, it was\nonly to appease your anger, it must therefore be a mere dream;\nand I beg of you not to believe otherwise, but recover your\nsenses.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the prince, \"I should be for ever unworthy of your\nmajesty's favour, if I did not give entire credit to what you are\npleased to say but I humbly beseech you at the same time to give\na patient hearing to what I shall relate, and then to judge\nwhether what I have the honour to tell you be a dream or not.\"\n\nThe prince then related to his father how he had been awaked,\nexaggerating the beauty and charms of the lady he found by his\nside, the instantaneous love he conceived for her, and the pains\nhe took to awaken her without effect. Shewing the king the ring\nhe had taken from her finger he added, \"After this, I hope you\nwill be convinced that I have not lost my senses, as you have\nbeen almost made to believe.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun was so perfectly convinced of the truth of what his\nson had been telling him, that he could make no reply, remaining\nastonished for some time, and not being able to utter a syllable.\n\nThe prince took advantage of this opportunity, and said, \"The\npassion I have conceived for this charming lady, whose lovely\nimage I bear continually in my mind, is so ardent, that I cannot\nresist it. I entreat you therefore to have compassion, and\nprocure me the happiness of being united to her.\"\n\n\"Son,\" replied the king, \"after what I have just heard, and what\nI see by the ring on your finger, I cannot doubt but that your\npassion is real, and that you have seen this lady, who is the\nobject of it. Would to God I knew who she was. I would instantly\ncomply with your wishes, and should be the happiest father in the\nworld! But where shall I seek her? How came she here, and by what\nconveyance, without my consent? Why did she come to sleep with\nyou only to display her beauty, to kindle a flame of love while\nshe slept, and then leave you while you were in a slumber? These\nthings, I must confess, I do not understand; and if heaven do not\nfavour us in our perplexity, I fear we must both go down to the\ngrave together.\" As he spoke, he took the prince by the hand, and\nsaid, \"Come then, my son, let us go and grieve together; you with\nhopeless love, and I with seeing your affliction, without being\nable to afford you relief.\"\n\nShaw Zummaun then led his son out of the tower, and conveyed him\nto the palace, where he had no sooner arrived, than in despair at\nloving an unknown object he fell sick, and took to his bed; the\nking shut himself up with him, without attending to the affairs\nof his kingdom for many days.\n\nThe prime minister, who was the only person that had admittance,\nat length informed him, that the whole court, and even the\npeople, began to murmur at not seeing him, and that he did not\nadminister justice every day as he was wont to do; adding, he\nknew not what disorder it might occasion. \"I humbly beg your\nmajesty, therefore,\" proceeded he, \"to pay some attention. I am\nsensible your majesty's company is a great comfort to the prince,\nand that his tends to relieve your grief; but you must not run\nthe risk of letting all be lost. Permit me to propose to your\nmajesty, to remove with the prince to the castle near the port,\nwhere you may give audience to your subjects twice a week only.\nDuring these absences the prince will be so agreeably amused with\nthe beauty, prospect, and good air of the place, that he will\nbear them with the less uneasiness.\"\n\nThe king approved this proposal: he removed thither with the\nprince; and, excepting when he gave audience, never left him, but\npassed all his time endeavouring to comfort him by sharing his\ndistress.\n\nWhilst matters passed thus in the capital of Shaw Zummaun, the\ntwo genies, Danhasch and Caschcasch, had carried the princess of\nChina back to the palace where the king her father had confined\nher, and laid her in her bed as before.\n\nWhen she awoke next morning, and found that prince Kummir al\nZummaun was not by her, she cried out in such a manner to her\nwomen, that she soon brought them to her bed. Her nurse, who\narrived first, desired to be informed if any thing disagreeable\nhad happened to her.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said the princess, \"what is become of the young man\nthat has passed the night with me, and whom I love with all my\nsoul?\" \"Madam,\" replied the nurse, \"we cannot understand your\nhighness, unless you will be pleased to explain yourself.\"\n\n\"A young man, the handsomest and most amiable,\" said the\nprincess, \"slept with me last night, whom, with all my caresses,\nI could not awake; I ask you where he is?\"'\n\n\"Madam,\" answered the nurse, \"your highness asks us these\nquestions in jest. I beseech you to rise.\" \"I am in earnest,\"\nsaid the princess, \"and I must know where this young man is.\"\n\"Madam,\" insisted the nurse, \"you were alone when you went to bed\nlast night; and how any man could come to you without our\nknowledge we cannot imagine, for we all lay about the door of\nyour chamber, which was locked, and I had the key in my pocket.\"\n\nAt this the princess lost all patience, and taking her nurse by\nthe hair of her head, and giving her two or three sound cuffs,\ncried, \"You shall tell me where this young man is, you old\nsorceress, or I will put you to death.\"\n\nThe nurse struggled to get from her, and at last succeeded. She\nwent immediately with tears in her eyes, and her face all bloody,\nto complain to the queen, who was not a little surprised to see\nher in this condition, and asked who had misused her.\n\n\"Madam,\" began the nurse, \"you see how the princess has treated\nme; she had certainly murdered me, if I had not had the good\nfortune to escape out of her hands.\" She then related what had\nbeen the cause of all that violent passion in the princess. The\nqueen was surprised at her account, and could not guess how she\ncame to be so infatuated as to take that for a reality which\ncould be no other than a dream. \"Your majesty must conclude from\nall this,\" continued the nurse, \"that the princess is out of her\nsenses. You will think so yourself if you will go and see her.\"\n\nThe queen's affection for the princess deeply interested her in\nwhat she heard; she ordered the nurse to follow her; and they\nimmediately went together to the princess's palace.\n\nThe queen of China sat down by her daughter's bed-side on her\narrival in her apartment, and after she had informed herself\nabout her health began to ask her what had made her so angry with\nher nurse, as to treat her in the manner she had done.\n\"Daughter,\" said she, \"this is not right, and a great princess\nlike you should not suffer herself to be so transported by\npassion.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the princess, \"I plainly perceive your majesty\nis come to mock me; but I declare I will never let you rest till\nyou consent to my marrying the young man who lay with me last\nnight. You must know where he is, and therefore I beg of your\nmajesty to let him come to me again.\"\n\n\"Daughter,\" answered the queen, \"you surprise me; I do not\nunderstand your meaning.\" The princess now forgot all respect for\nthe queen; \"Madam,\" replied she, \"the king my father and you have\npersecuted me about marrying, when I had no inclination; I now\nhave an inclination, and I will have this young man I told you of\nfor my husband, or I will destroy myself.\"\n\nThe queen endeavoured to calm the princess by conciliatory\nlanguage: \"Daughter,\" said she, \"you know well you are guarded in\nthis apartment, how then could any man come to you?\" But instead\nof attending to her, the princess interrupted her, by such\nextravagancies as obliged the queen to leave her, and retire in\ngreat affliction, to inform the king of all that had passed.\n\nWhen the king had heard the account, he wished likewise to be\nsatisfied in person, and coming to his daughter's apartment,\nasked her, if what he had been told was true? \"Sir,\" replied the\nprincess, \"let us talk no more of that; I only beseech your\nmajesty to grant me the favour, that I may marry the young man I\nlay with last night.\"\n\n\"What! daughter,\" said the king, \"has any one lain with you last\nnight?\" \"How, sir,\" replied the princess, without giving him time\nto go on, \"do you ask me if any one lay with me last night? Your\nmajesty knows that but too well. He was the most beautiful youth\nthe sun ever saw: I ask him of you for my husband; I entreat you\ndo not refuse me. But that your majesty may not longer doubt\nwhether I have seen this young man, whether he has lain with me,\nwhether I have caressed him, or whether I did not my utmost to\nawake him without succeeding, see, if you please, this ring.\" She\nthen reached forth her hand, and shewed the king a man's ring on\nher finger. The king was perplexed what to think. He had confined\nhis daughter as mad, he began now to think her more insane than\never. Without saying any thing more to her, lest she might do\nviolence to herself or somebody about her, he had her chained,\nand confined more closely than before, allowing her only the\nnurse to wait on her, with a good guard at the door.\n\nThe king, exceedingly concerned at this indisposition of his\ndaughter, sought all possible means to effect her cure. He\nassembled his council, and after having acquainted them with her\ncondition \"If any of you,\" said he, \"is capable of undertaking to\nrestore her to health, and succeed, I will give her to him in\nmarriage, and make him heir to my dominions.\"\n\nThe desire of obtaining a handsome young princess, and the hopes\nof one day governing so great a kingdom as that of China, had a\npowerful effect on an emir, already advanced in years, who was\npresent at this council. As he was well skilled in magic, he\noffered the king to recover his daughter, and flattered himself\nwith success. \"I consent to the trial,\" said the king; \"but I\nforgot to tell you one condition, and that is, that if you do not\nsucceed, you shall lose your head. It would not be reasonable you\nshould have so great a reward, and yet run no risk: and what I\nsay to you,\" continued the king, \"I say to all others who shall\ncome after you, that they may consider beforehand what they\nundertake.\"\n\nThe emir accepted the condition, and the king conducted him to\nthe princess's place of confinement. She covered her face as soon\nas she saw them enter, and exclaimed, \"Your majesty surprises me,\nin bringing with you a man whom I do not know, and by whom my\nreligion forbids me to let myself be seen.\" \"Daughter,\" replied\nthe king, \"you need not be scandalized, it is only one of my\nemirs who is come to demand you in marriage.\" \"It is not, I\nperceive, the person that you have already given me, and whose\nfaith is plighted by the ring I wear,\" replied the princess; \"be\nnot offended that I will never marry any other.\"\n\nThe emir expected the princess would have said or done some\nextravagant thing, and was not a little disappointed when he\nheard her talk so calmly and rationally; for he then concluded\nthat her disease was nothing but a violent and deep-rooted\npassion. He therefore threw himself at his majesty's feet, and\nsaid, \"After what I have heard and observed, sir, it will be to\nno purpose for me to think of curing the princess, since I have\nno remedies proper for her malady; for which reason I humbly\nsubmit my life to your majesty's pleasure.\" The king, enraged at\nhis incapacity, and the trouble he had given him, caused him to\nbe immediately beheaded.\n\nSome days after, unwilling to have it said that he had neglected\nhis daughter's cure, the king put forth a proclamation in his\ncapital, importing, that if there were any physician, astrologer,\nor magician who would undertake to restore the princess to her\nsenses, he needed only to offer himself, and he should be\nemployed, on condition of losing his head if he failed. He had\nthe same published in the other principal cities and towns of his\ndominions, and in the courts of the princes his neighbours.\n\nThe first that presented himself was an astrologer and magician,\nwhom the king caused to be conducted to the princess's prison by\nan eunuch. The astrologer drew forth, out of a bag he carried\nunder his arm, an astrolabe, a small sphere, a chafing-dish,\nseveral sorts of drugs proper for fumigations, a brass pot, with\nmany other articles, and desired he might have a fire.\n\nThe princess demanded what all these preparations were for.\n\"Madam,\" answered the eunuch, \"they are to exorcise the evil\nspirit that possesses you, to shut him up in this pot, and throw\nhim into the sea.\"\n\n\"Foolish astrologer,\" replied the princess, \"I have no occasion\nfor any of your preparations, but am in my perfect senses, and\nyou alone are mad. If your art can bring him I love to me, I\nshall be obliged to you; otherwise you may go about your\nbusiness, for I have nothing to do with you.\" \"Madam,\" said the\nastrologer, \"if your case be so, I shall desist from all\nendeavours, believing the king your father only can remove your\ndisorder:\" so putting up his trinkets again, he marched away,\nmuch concerned that he had so easily undertaken to cure an\nimaginary malady.\n\nThe eunuch conducted the astrologer to the king, whom the\nastrologer thus addressed: \"According to what your majesty\npublished in your proclamation, and what you were pleased to\nconfirm to me yourself, I thought the princess was insane, and\ndepended on being able to recover her by the secrets I have long\nbeen acquainted with; but I soon found she had no other disease\nbut that of love, over which my art has no power: your majesty\nalone is the physician who can cure her, by giving her in\nmarriage the person whom she desires.\"\n\nThe king was much enraged at the astrologer, and had his head\ninstantly cut off. A hundred and fifty astrologers, physicians,\nand magicians, came on this account, who all underwent the same\nfate; and their heads were set upon poles on every gate of the\ncity.\n\nThe princess of China's nurse had a son whose name was Marzavan,\nwho had been foster-brother to the princess, and brought up with\nher, The friendship was so great during their childhood, and all\nthe time they had been together, that as they grew up, even some\ntime after their separation, they treated each other as brother\nand sister.\n\nMarzavan, among other studies, had from his youth been much\naddicted to judicial astrology, geomancy, and the like secret\narts, wherein he became exceedingly skilful. Not satisfied with\nwhat he had learned from masters, he travelled, and there was\nhardly any person of note in any science or art, but he sought\nhim in the most remote cities, to obtain information, so great\nwas his thirst after knowledge.\n\nAfter several years' absence in foreign parts, he returned to the\ncapital of his native country, where, seeing so many heads on the\ngate by which he entered, he was exceedingly surprised, and\ndemanded for what reason they had been placed there; but he more\nparticularly inquired after the princess his foster-sister. As he\ncould not receive an answer to one inquiry without the other, he\nheard at length a general account of what had happened, and\nwaited for further particulars till he could see his mother, the\nprincess's nurse.\n\nAlthough the nurse, the mother of Marzavan, was much employed\nabout the princess, yet she no sooner heard her son was returned,\nthan she found time to come out, embrace him, and converse with\nhim a little. Having told him, with tears in her eyes, the\nunhappy condition of the princess, and for what reason the king\nher father had confined her; her son desired to know if she could\nnot procure him a private view of her royal mistress, without the\nking's knowledge. After some pause, she told him she could give\nhim no answer for the present; but if he would meet her the next\nday at the same hour, she would inform him.\n\nThe nurse knowing none could approach the princess but herself;\nwithout leave of the eunuch, who commanded the guard at the gate,\naddressed: herself to him, and said, \"You know I have brought up\nand suckled the princess, and you may likewise have heard that I\nhad a daughter whom I brought up along with her. This daughter\nhas been since married, yet the princess still does her the\nhonour to love her, and wishes to see her, without any person's\nobserving her enter or depart.\"\n\nThe nurse was proceeding, but the eunuch interrupted her and\nexclaimed, \"Say no more, I will with pleasure do any thing to\noblige the princess; go and fetch your daughter, or send for her\nabout midnight, and the gate shall be open for you.\"\n\nAs soon as it was dark, the nurse went to Marzavan, and having\ndressed him so well in women's clothes, that nobody could suspect\nhe was a man, carried him along with her; and the eunuch\nbelieving it was her daughter, admitted them.\n\nThe nurse, before she presented Marzavan, went to the princess,\nand said, \"Madam, this is not a woman I have brought to you, it\nis my son Marzavan in disguise, newly arrived from his travels;\nhaving a great desire to kiss your hand, I hope your highness\nwill vouchsafe him that honour.\"\n\n\"What! my brother Marzavan,\" exclaimed the princess, with great\njoy; \"approach, and take off that veil; for it is not\nunreasonable that a brother and a sister should see each other\nwithout covering their faces.\"\n\nMarzavan saluted her with profound respect, while, without giving\nhim time to speak, she continued, \"I rejoice to see you returned\nin good health, after so many years' absence, and without sending\nany account of your welfare, even to your good mother.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied Marzavan, \"I am infinitely obliged to your\ngoodness. I hoped to have heard a better account of your health\nthan has been given me, and which I lament to find confirmed by\nyour appearance. It gives me pleasure, however, to have come so\nseasonably to bring your highness that remedy which your\nsituation requires. Should I reap no other benefit from my\nstudies and travels, I should think myself amply recompensed.\"\n\nHaving thus spoken, Marzavan drew out of his pocket a book and\nsome other things, which from the account he had had from his\nmother of the princess's distemper, he thought he might want. The\nprincess, observing these preparations, exclaimed, \"What!\nbrother, are you one of those who believe me mad? Undeceive\nyourself, and hear me.\"\n\nThe princess then related to Marzavan all the particulars of her\nstory, without omitting the least circumstance, even to the ring\nwhich was exchanged for hers, and which she shewed him. \"I have\nnot concealed the least incident from you,\" continued she; \"there\nis something in this business which I cannot comprehend, and\nwhich has given occasion for some persons to think me mad. But no\none will attend to the rest, which is literally as I have\nstated.\"\n\nAfter the princess had concluded, Marzavan, filled with wonder\nand astonishment, remained for some time with his eyes fixed on\nthe ground, without speaking a word; but at length he lifted up\nhis head, and said, \"If it be as your highness says, and which I\ndo not in the least doubt, I do not despair of being able to\nprocure you the gratification of your wishes. But I must first\nentreat your highness to arm yourself with patience, till I have\ntravelled over kingdoms which I have not yet visited, and when\nyou hear of my return, be assured the object of your desire is\nnot far distant.\" Having thus spoken, Marzavan took leave of the\nprincess, and set out the next morning on his intended travels.\n\nHe journeyed from city to city, from province to province, and\nfrom island to island; and in every place he visited, he could\nhear of nothing but the princess Badoura (which was the princess\nof China's name) and her history.\n\nAbout four months after, our traveller arrived at Torf, a sea-port\ntown, large and populous, where the theme was changed; he no more\nheard of the princess Badoura, but all the talk was of prince Kummir\nal Zummaun, who was sick, and whose history greatly resembled hers.\nMarzavan was extremely delighted on hearing this, and informed himself\nwhere the prince was to be found. There were two ways to it; one, by\nland and sea; the other, by sea only, which was the shortest.\n\nMarzavan chose the latter; and embarking on board a merchant\nship, arrived safely in sight of Shaw Zummaun's capital; but just\nbefore it entered the port, the ship struck upon a rock, by the\nunskilfulness of the pilot, and foundered: it went down in sight\nof the castle, where at that time were the king and his grand\nvizier.\n\nMarzavan, who could swim well, immediately upon the ship's\nsinking cast himself into the sea, and got safe on shore under\nthe castle, where he was soon relieved by the grand vizier's\norder. After he had changed his clothes, and been well treated,\nhe was introduced to the grand vizier, who lead sent for him.\n\nMarzavan being a young man of good address, the minister received\nhim with great politeness; and was induced, from the just and\npertinent answers he returned to the questions put to him, to\nregard him with great esteem. Finding by degrees that he\npossessed great variety and extent of information, he said to\nhim, \"From what I can understand, I perceive you are no common\nman; you have travelled much: would to God you had discovered\nsome remedy for a malady which has been long a source of great\naffliction at this court.\"\n\nMarzavan replied, if he knew what malady it was, he might perhaps\nfind a remedy applicable to it.\n\nThe grand vizier then related to him the story of prince Kummir\nal Zummaun. He concealed nothing relating to his birth, which had\nbeen so earnestly desired, his education, the wish of the king\nhis father to see him early married, his resistance and\nextraordinary aversion from marriage, his disobeying his father\nin full council, his imprisonment, his extravagancies in prison,\nwhich were afterwards changed into a violent passion for some\nunknown lady, who, he pretended, had exchanged a ring with him,\nthough, for his part, he verily believed there was no such person\nin the world.\n\nMarzavan gave great attention to all the grand vizier said, and\nwas infinitely rejoiced to find that, by means of his shipwreck,\nhe had so fortunately lighted on the person he was seeking. He\nsaw no reason to doubt that the prince was the man whom the\nprincess of China so ardently loved, and that this princess was\nequally the object of his passion. Without explaining himself\nfarther to the vizier, he desired to see the prince, that he\nmight be better able to judge of his disorder and its cure.\n\"Follow me,\" said the grand vizier, \"and you will find the king\nwith him, who has already desired I should introduce you.\"\n\nOn entering the prince's chamber, the first thing Marzavan\nobserved was the prince upon his bed languishing, and with his\neyes shut. Notwithstanding his condition, and regardless of the\npresence of the king his father, who was sitting by him, he could\nnot avoid exclaiming, \"Heavens! was there ever a greater\nresemblance?\" He meant to the princess of China; for it seems the\nprincess and the prince were much alike.\n\nThis exclamation of Marzavan excited the prince's curiosity; he\nopened his eyes and looked at him. Marzavan, who had a ready wit,\nseized that opportunity, and made his compliment in extempore\nverse; but in such a disguised manner, that neither the king nor\nthe grand vizier under stood his meaning. He represented so\nexactly what had happened to him with the princess of China, that\nthe prince had no reason to doubt he knew her, and could give him\ntidings of her. His countenance immediately brightened up with\njoy.\n\nAfter Marzavan had finished his compliment in verse, which\nsurprised Kummir al Zummaun so agreeably, the prince took the\nliberty of making a sign to the king his father, to give his\nplace to Marzavan, and allow him to sit by him.\n\nThe king, overjoyed at this alteration, which inspired him with\nhopes of his son's speedy recovery, quitted his place, and taking\nMarzavan by the hand, led him to it, obliging him to sit. He then\ndemanded of him who he was, and whence he had come? And upon\nMarzavan's answering he was a subject of China, and came from\nthat kingdom, the king exclaimed, \"Heaven grant you may be able\nto recover my son from this profound melancholy; I shall be\neternally obliged to you, and all the world shall see how\nhandsomely I will reward you.\" Having said thus, he left the\nprince to converse at full liberty with the stranger, whilst he\nwent and rejoiced with the grand vizier on this happy incident.\n\nMarzavan leaning down to the prince, addressed him in a low\nvoice: \"Prince, it is time you should cease to grieve. The lady,\nfor whom you suffer, is the princess Badoura, daughter of Gaiour,\nking of China. This I can assure your highness from what she has\ntold me of her adventure, and what I have learned of yours. She\nhas suffered no less on your account than you have on hers.\" Here\nhe related all that he knew of the princess's story, from the\nnight of their extraordinary interview.\n\nHe omitted not to acquaint him how the king had treated those who\nhad failed in their endeavours to cure the princess of her\nindisposition. \"But your highness is the only person,\" added he,\n\"that can cure her effectually, and you may present yourself\nwithout fear. However, before you undertake so long a voyage, I\nwould have you perfectly recovered, and then we will take what\nmeasures may be necessary. Think then immediately of the recovery\nof your health.\"\n\nThis account had a marvellous effect on the prince. The hopes of\nspeedily fulfilling his desires so much relieved him, that he\nfelt he had strength sufficient to rise, and begged permission of\nhis father to dress himself, with such an air as gave him\nincredible pleasure.\n\nShaw Zummaun, without inquiring into the means he had used to\nproduce this wonderful effect, could not refrain from embracing\nMarzavan, and soon after went out of the prince's chamber with\nthe grand vizier, to publish the agreeable tidings. He ordered\npublic rejoicings for several days together, gave great largesses\nto his officers and the people, and alms to the poor, and caused\nthe prisoners to be set at liberty throughout his kingdom The joy\nwas soon general in the capital, and in every part of his\ndominions.\n\nKummir al Zummaun, though extremely weakened by almost continual\nprivation of sleep and long abstinence, soon recovered his\nhealth. When he found himself in a condition to undertake the\nvoyage, he took Marzavan aside, and said, \"Dear Marzavan, it is\nnow time to perform the promise you have made me. My impatience\nto behold the charming princess, and to relieve her of the\ntorments she is now suffering on my account, is such, that if we\ndo not shortly depart, I shall relapse into my former\nindisposition. One thing still afflicts me,\" continued he, \"and\nthat is the difficulty I shall find, from his tender affection\nfor me, to obtain my father's permission to travel into a distant\ncountry. You observe he scarcely allows me to be a moment out of\nhis sight.\"\n\nAt these words the prince wept. Marzavan then replied, \"I foresaw\nthis difficulty, and I will take care it shall not obstruct us.\nMy principal design in this voyage was to cure the princess of\nChina of her malady, and this on account of the mutual affection\nwhich we have borne to each other from our birth, as well as from\nthe zeal and affection I otherwise owe her. I should therefore be\nwanting in my duty to her, if I did not use my best endeavours to\neffect her cure and yours. This is then the mode I have devised\nto obtain the king your father's consent. You have not stirred\nabroad for some time, therefore request his permission to go upon\na hunting party with me. He will no doubt comply. When you have\nobtained his leave, obtain two fleet coursers for each of us to\nbe got ready, one to mount, the other to change, and leave the\nrest to me.\"\n\nThe following day the prince did as he had been instructed. He\nacquainted the king he was desirous of taking the air, and, if he\npleased, would go and hunt for two or three days with Marzavan.\nThe king gave his consent, but wished him not to be absent more\nthan one night, since too much exercise at first might impair his\nhealth and a longer absence would make him uneasy. He then\nordered him to choose the best horses in the royal stable, and\ntook particular care that nothing should be wanting for his\naccommodation. When all was ready, he embraced the prince, and\nhaving recommended to Marzavan to be careful of him, he let him\ngo. Kummir al Zummaun and Marzavan were soon mounted, when, to\namuse the two grooms who led the spare horses, they made as if\nthey were going to hunt, and under this pretence got as far from\nthe city and out of the high road as was possible. When night\nbegan to approach, they alighted at a caravanserai or inn, where\nthey supped, and slept till about midnight; when Marzavan\nawakened the prince, and desired his highness to let him have his\ndress, and to take another for himself, which was brought in his\nbaggage. Thus equipped, they mounted the fresh horses, and after\nMarzavan had taken one of the grooms' horses by the bridle, they\nleft the caravanserai.\n\nAt day-break they found themselves in a forest, where four roads\nmet. Here Marzavan, desiring the prince to wait for him a little,\nwent into the wood. He then cut the throat of the groom's horse,\nand after having torn the suit which the prince had taken off,\nand besmeared it with blood, threw it into the highway.\n\nThe prince inquired his reason for what he had done. He replied,\nhe was sure that when the king his father found he did not\nreturn, and should learn that he had departed without the grooms,\nhe would suspect something wrong, and immediately send in quest\nof them, \"they who may come this way, finding this bloody habit,\nwill conclude you are devoured by wild beasts, and that I have\nescaped to avoid the king's anger. The king, concluding you are\ndead, will stop further pursuit, and we may have leisure to\ncontinue our journey without fear of being followed.\" \"I must\nconfess,\" continued Marzavan, \"it is a violent way of proceeding,\nto alarm a fond father with the death of his son, but his joy\nwill be the greater when he shall hear you are alive and happy.\"\n\"Breve Marzavan,\" replied the prince, \"I cannot but approve such\nan ingenious stratagem, or sufficiently admire your conduct: you\nplace me under fresh obligations to you.\"\n\nThe prince and Marzavan being well provided for their expenses,\ncontinued their journey both by land and sea, and found no other\nobstacle but the length of the time which it necessarily took up.\nThey arrived at length at the capital of China, where Marzavan,\ninstead of going to his house, carried the prince to a public\ninn. They remained there incognito three days, to rest themselves\nafter the fatigue of the voyage; during which time Marzavan\ncaused an astrologer's habit to be made for the prince. The three\ndays being expired, they went together to the bath, where the\nprince put on his astrologer's dress: from thence Marzavan\nconducted him to the neighbourhood of the king of China's palace,\nwhere he left him, to go and inform his mother of his arrival.\n\nKummir al Zummaun, instructed by Marzavan what he was to do, came\nnext morning to the gate of the king's palace, and cried aloud,\n\"I am an astrologer, and am come to cure the illustrious princess\nBadoura, daughter of the most high and mighty monarch Gaiour king\nof China, on the conditions proposed by his majesty, to marry her\nif I succeed, or else to lose my life for my fruitless and\npresumptuous attempt.\"\n\nBesides the guards and porters at the gate, this incident drew\ntogether a great number of people about the prince. There had no\nphysician, astrologer, or magician appeared for a long time on\nthis account, being deterred by the many tragical examples of ill\nsuccess that appeared before; it was therefore thought there\nremained no more of these professions in the world, or none so\nmad as those that had already forfeited their lives.\n\nThe prince's appearance, his noble air, and blooming youth, made\nevery one who saw him pity him. \"What mean you, sir,\" said some\nthat were nearest to him, \"thus to expose a life of such\npromising expectations to certain death? Cannot the heads you see\non all the gates of this city deter you from such an undertaking?\nIn the name of God consider what you do! abandon this rash\nattempt, and depart.\"\n\nThe prince continued firm, notwithstanding all these\nremonstrances; and as he saw no one coming to introduce him, he\nrepeated the same cry with a boldness that made every body\ntremble. They all then exclaimed, \"Let him alone, he is resolved\nto die; God have mercy on his youth and his soul!\" He then\nproceeded to cry a third time in the same manner, when the grand\nvizier came in person, and introduced him to the king of China.\n\nAs soon as the prince came into the presence, he bowed and kissed\nthe ground. The king, who, among all that had hitherto\npresumptuously exposed their lives on this occasion, had not\nbefore seen one worthy of his attention, felt real compassion for\nKummir al Zummaun, on account of the danger to which he exposed\nhimself. \"Young man,\" said he, \"I can hardly believe that at this\nage you can have acquired experience enough to dare attempt the\ncure of my daughter. I wish you may succeed, and would give her\nto you in marriage with all my heart, and with the greatest joy,\nmore willingly than I should have done to others that have\noffered themselves before you; but I must declare to you at the\nsame time, though with great concern, that if you fail,\nnotwithstanding your noble appearance and your youth, you must\nlose your head.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the prince, \"I have infinite obligations to your\nmajesty for the honour you design me, and the great goodness you\nshew to a stranger; but I desire your majesty to believe I would\nnot have come from so remote a country as I have done, the name\nof which perhaps may be unknown in your dominions, if I had not\nbeen certain of the cure I propose. What would not the world say\nof my fickleness, if, after such great fatigues and so many\ndangers as I have undergone in the pursuit, I should abandon this\ngenerous enterprise? Even your majesty would lose that esteem you\nhave conceived for me. If I perish, I shall die with the\nsatisfaction of not having forfeited your good opinion. I beseech\nyour majesty therefore to keep me no longer from displaying the\ncertainty of my art, by the proof I am ready to afford.\"\n\nThe king now commanded the eunuch, who had the custody of the\nprincess, to introduce Kummir al Zummaun into her apartment: but\nbefore he would let him go, reminded him once more that he was at\nliberty to renounce his design; but the prince paid no regard to\nthis, and with astonishing resolution and eagerness followed the\neunuch.\n\nWhen they had entered a long gallery, at the end of which was the\nprincess's apartment, the prince, who saw himself so near the\nobjets of his wishes, who had occasioned him so many tears,\npushed on, and got before the eunuch.\n\nThe eunuch redoubling his pace, with difficulty got up to him,\n\"Wither so fast?\" cried he, taking him by the arm; \"you cannot\nget in without me; and it should seem you have a great desire for\ndeath, thus to run to it headlong. Not one of all those many\nastrologers and magicians I have introduced before made such\nhaste as yourself, to a place whence I fear you will come but too\nsoon.\"\n\n\"Friend,\" replied the prince, looking earnestly on the eunuch,\nand continuing his pace, \"this was because none of the\nastrologers you speak of were so confident in their art as I am:\nthey were certain indeed they should die, if they did not\nsucceed, but they had no certainty of their success. On this\naccount they had reason to tremble on approaching this spot,\nwhere I am sure to find my happiness.\" He had just spoken these\nwords when he reached the door. The eunuch opened it, and\nintroduced him into a great hall, whence was an entrance into the\nprincess's apartment, divided from it only by a piece of\ntapestry.\n\nThe prince stopped before he entered, speaking more softly to the\neunuch for fear of being heard by the princess. \"To convince\nyou,\" said he; \"there is neither presumption, nor whim, nor\nyouthful conceit in my undertaking, I leave it to your choice\nwhether I shall cure the princess in her presence, or where we\nare, without going any farther, or seeing her?\"\n\nThe eunuch was amazed to hear the prince talk to him with such\nconfidence: he left off jeering, and said seriously to him, \"It\nis no matter where it is done, provided it be effected: cure her\nhow you will, if you succeed you will gain immortal honour, not\nonly in this court, but over all the world.\"\n\nThe prince replied, \"It will be best then to cure her without\nseeing her, that you may be witness of my skill; notwithstanding\nmy impatience to see a princess of her rank, who is to be my\nwife, yet out of respect to you, I will deprive myself of that\npleasure for a little while.\" Being furnished with every thing\nproper for an astrologer to carry about him, he took pen, ink,\nand paper our of his pocket, and wrote the following billet to\nthe princess.\n\n\n\"The impassioned Kummir al Zummaun cannot recite the\ninexpressible pain he has endured since that fatal night in which\nyour charms deprived him of the liberty which he had resolved to\npreserve. He only tells you that he devoted his heart to you in\nyour charming slumbers; those obstinate slumbers which hindered\nhim from beholding the brightness of your piercing eyes,\nnotwithstanding all his endeavours to oblige you to open them. He\npresumed to present you with his ring as a token of his passion;\nand to take yours in exchange, which he encloses. If you\ncondescend to return his as a reciprocal pledge of love, he will\nesteem himself the happiest of mankind. If not, the sentence of\ndeath, which your refusal must draw upon him, will be received\nwith resignation, since he will perish on account of his love for\nyou.\"\n\nWhen the prince had finished his billet, he folded it up, and\nenclosed in it the princess's ring. \"There, friend,\" said he to\nthe eunuch, \"carry this to your mistress; if it does not cure her\nas soon as she reads it, and sees what it contains, I give you\nleave to tell every body, that I am the most ignorant and\nimpudent astrologer that ever existed.\"\n\nThe eunuch entering the princess of China's apartment, gave her\nthe packet, saying, \"The boldest astrologer that ever lived is\narrived here, and pretends, that on reading this letter and\nseeing what it encloses, you will be cured; I wish he may prove\nneither a liar nor an impostor.\"\n\nThe princess Badoura took the billet, and opened it with\nindifference: but when she saw the ring, she had not patience to\nread it through: she rose hastily, broke the chain that held her,\nran to the door and opened it. They immediately recognized each\nother, tenderly embraced, and without being able to speak for\nexcess of joy, looked at one another, wondering how they met\nagain after their first interview. The princess's nurse, who ran\nto the door with her, made them come into her apartment, where\nthe princess Badoura gave the prince her ring, saying, \"Take it,\nI cannot keep it without restoring yours; which I will never part\nwith; neither can it be in better hands.\"\n\nThe eunuch went immediately to inform the king of China of what\nhad happened: \"Sir,\" said he, \"all the astrologers and doctors\nwho have hitherto pretended to cure the princess were fools\ncompared with the present. He made use neither of schemes nor\nconjurations, of perfumes, nor any thing else, but cured her\nwithout seeing her.\" The monarch was agreeably surprised at this\nintelligence, and going to the princess's apartment, he embraced\nher, and afterwards the prince, and taking his hand joined it to\nthe princess's, saying, \"Happy stranger, whoever you are, I will\nkeep my word, and give you my daughter for your wife; though, by\nwhat I see in you, it is impossible for me to believe you are\nreally what you pretend, and would have me take you to be.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun thanked the king in the most humble\nexpressions, that he might the better shew his gratitude. \"As for\nmy condition,\" said he, \"I must own I am not an astrologer, as\nyour majesty has guessed; I only put on the habit of one, that I\nmight succeed the more easily in my ambition to be allied to the\nmost potent monarch in the world. I was born a prince, and the\nson of a king and of a queen; my name is Kummir al Zummaun; my\nfather is Shaw Zummaun, who now reigns over the islands that are\nwell known by the name of the Islands of the Children of\nKhaledan.\" He then related to him his history, and how wonderful\nhad been the origin of his love; that the princess's was\naltogether as marvellous; and that both were confirmed by the\nexchange of the two rings.\n\nWhen the prince had done speaking, the king said to him, \"This\nhistory is so extraordinary, it deserves to be known to\nposterity; I will take care it shall; and the original being\ndeposited in my royal archives, I will spread copies of it\nabroad, that my own kingdoms and the kingdoms around me may know\nit.\"\n\nThe marriage was solemnized the same day, and the rejoicings were\nuniversal all over the empire of China. Nor was Marzavan\nforgotten: the king gave him an honourable post in his court, and\na promise of further advancement.\n\nThe prince and princess enjoyed the fulness of their wishes in\nthe sweets of marriage; and the king kept continual feastings for\nseveral months, to manifest his joy on the occasion.\n\nIn the midst of these pleasures Kummir al Zummaun dreamt one\nnight that he saw his father on his bed at the point of death,\nand heard him thus address his attendants: \"My son, to whom I\ngave birth; my son, whom I so tenderly loved whom I bred with so\nmuch fondness, so much care, has abandoned me, and is himself the\ncause of my death.\" He awoke with a profound sigh, which alarmed\nthe princess, who asked him the cause.\n\n\"Alas! my love,\" replied the prince, \"perhaps at the very moment\nwhile I am speaking, the king my father is no more.\" He then\nacquainted her with his melancholy dream, which occasioned him so\nmuch uneasiness. The princess, who studied to please him in every\nthing, went to her father the next day, kissed his hand, and thus\naddressed him: \"I have a favour to beg of your majesty, and I\nbeseech you not to deny me; but that you may not believe I ask it\nat the solicitation of the prince my husband, I assure you\nbeforehand he knows nothing of my request: it is, that you will\ngrant me your permission to go with him and visit his father.\"\n\n\"Daughter,\" replied the king, \"though I shall be sorry to part with\nyou for so long a time as a journey to a place so distant will\nrequire, yet I cannot disapprove of your resolution; it is worthy of\nyourself: go, child, I give you leave, but on condition that you stay\nno longer than a year in Shaw Zummaun's court. I hope the king will\nagree to this, that we shall alternately see, he his son and his\ndaughter-in-law, and I my daughter and my son-in-law.\"\n\nThe princess communicated the king of China's consent to her\nhusband, who was transported to receive it, and returned her\nthanks for this new token of her love.\n\nThe king of China gave orders for preparations to be made for\ntheir departure; and when all things were ready, he accompanied\nthe prince and princess several days' journey on their way; they\nparted at length with much affliction on both sides: the king\nembraced them; and having desired the prince to be kind to his\ndaughter, and to love her always with the same tenderness he now\ndid, he left them to proceed, and to divert himself, hunted as he\nreturned to his capital.\n\nWhen the prince and princess had recovered from their grief, they\ncomforted themselves with considering how glad Shaw Zummaun would\nbe to see them, and how they should rejoice to see the king.\n\nAfter travelling about a month, they one day entered a plain of\ngreat extent, planted at convenient distances with tall trees,\nforming an agreeable shade. The day being unusually hot, the\nprince thought it best to encamp there, and proposed it to\nBadoura, who, having the same wish, the more readily consented.\nThey alighted in one of the finest spots; a tent was presently\nset up; the princess, rising from the shade under which she had\nsat down, entered it. The prince then ordered his attendants to\npitch their tents, and went himself to give directions. The\nprincess, weary with the fatigues of the journey, bade her women\nuntie her girdle, which they laid down by her; and she falling\nasleep, they left her alone.\n\nKummir al Zummaun having seen all things in order, came to the\ntent where the princess was sleeping: he entered, and sat down\nwithout making any noise, intending to repose himself; but\nobserving the princess's girdle lying by her, he took it up, and\nlooked at the diamonds and rubies one by one. In viewing it he\nobserved a little purse hanging to it, sewed neatly on the stuff,\nand tied fast with a riband; he felt it, and found it contained\nsomething solid. Desirous to know what it was, he opened the\npurse, and took out a cornelian, engraven with unknown figures\nand characters. \"This cornelian,\" said the prince to himself,\n\"must be something very valuable, or my princess would not carry\nit with so much care.\" It was Badoura's talisman, which the queen\nof China had given her daughter as a charm, that would keep her,\nas she said, from any harm as long as she had it about her.\n\nThe prince, the better to look at the talisman, took it out to\nthe light, the tent being dark; and while he was holding it up in\nhis hand, a bird darted down from the air and snatched it away\nfrom him.\n\nOne will easily conceive the concern and grief of the prince,\nwhen he saw the bird fly away with the talisman. He was more\ntroubled than words can express, and cursed his unseasonable\ncuriosity, by which his dear princess had lost a treasure, that\nwas so precious, and so valued by her.\n\nThe bird having got its prize, settled on the ground not far off,\nwith the talisman in its mouth. The prince drew near it, hoping\nit would drop it; but as he approached, the bird took wing, and\nsettled again on the ground further off. Kummir al Zummaun\nfollowed, and the bird took a further flight: the prince being\nvery dexterous at a mark, thought to kill it with a stone, and\nstill pursued; the further it flew, the more eager he grew in\npursuing, keeping it always in view. Thus the bird drew him along\nfrom hill to valley, and valley to hill, all the day, every step\nleading him out of the way from the plain where he had left his\ncamp and the princess Badoura: and instead of perching at night\non a bush, where he might probably have taken it, roosted on a\nhigh tree, safe from his pursuit. The prince, vexed to the heart\nat having taken so much pains to no purpose, thought of\nreturning; \"But,\" said he to himself, \"which way shall I return?\nShall I go down the hills and valleys which I have passed overt'\nShall I wander in darkness? and will my strength bear me out? How\nshall I dare appear before my princess without her talisman?\"\nOverwhelmed with such thoughts, and tired with the pursuit, sleep\ncame upon him, and he lay down under a tree, where he passed the\nnight.\n\nHe awoke the next morning before the bird had left the tree, and\nas soon as he saw it on the wing, followed it again the whole of\nthat day, with no better success than he had done the last,\neating nothing but herbs and fruits as he went. He did the same\nfor ten days together, pursuing the bird, and keeping it in view\nfrom morning to night, lying always under the tree where it\nroosted. On the eleventh day, the bird continued flying, and\nKummir al Zummaun pursuing it, came near a great city. When the\nbird had reached the walls, it flew over them, and the prince saw\nno more of it; so that he despaired of ever recovering the\nprincess Badoura's talisman.\n\nThe prince, whose grief was beyond expression, went into the\ncity, which was built on the seaside, and had a fine port; he\nwalked up and down the streets without knowing where he was, or\nwhere to stop. At last he came to the port, in as great\nuncertainty as ever what he should do. Walking along the shore,\nhe perceived the gate of a garden open, and an old gardener at\nwork in it; the good man looking up, saw he was a stranger and a\nMoosulmaun, and asked him to come in, and shut the door after\nhim.\n\nKummir al Zummaun entered, and demanded of the gardener why he\nwas so cautious? \"Because,\" replied the old man, \"I see you are a\nstranger newly arrived; and this city is inhabited for the most\npart by idolaters, who have a mortal aversion to us Moosulmauns,\nand treat a few of us that are here with great barbarity. I\nsuppose you did not know this, and it is a miracle that you have\nescaped as you have thus far: these idolaters being very apt to\nfall upon strangers, or draw them into a snare. I bless God, who\nhas brought you into a place of safety.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun thanked the honest gardener for his advice, and\nthe security he offered him in his house; he would have said\nmore, but the good man interrupted him, saying, \"Let us leave\ncomplimenting; you are weary, and must want to refresh yourself.\nCome in, and rest.\" He conducted him into his little hut; and\nafter the prince had eaten heartily of what he set before him,\nwith a cordiality that charmed him, he requested him to relate\nhow he had come there.\n\nThe prince complied; and when he had finished his story, without\nconcealing any part of it, asked him which was the nearest route\nto his father's territories; saying, \"It is in vain for me to\nthink of finding my princess where I left her, after wandering\neleven days from the spot by so extraordinary an adventure. Ah!\"\ncontinued he, \"how do I know she is alive?\" and saying this, he\nburst into tears. The gardener replied, \"There was no possibility\nof his going thither by land, the ways were so difficult, and the\njourney so long; besides, there was no accommodation for his\nsubsistence; or, if there were, he must necessarily pass through\nthe countries of so many barbarous nations, that he would never\nreach his father's. It was a year's journey from the city where\nhe then was to any country inhabited only by Moosulmauns; that\nthe quickest passage for him would be to go to the isle of Ebene,\nwhence he might easily transport himself to the isles of the\nchildren of Khaledan; that a ship sailed from the port every year\nto Ebene, and he might take that opportunity of returning to\nthose islands.\" \"The ship departed,\" said he, \"but a few days ago;\nif you had come a little sooner, you might have taken your\npassage in it. You must wait till it makes the voyage again, and\nif you will stay with me and accept of my house, such as it is,\nyou shall be as welcome to it as to your own.\"\n\nThe prince was glad he had met with such an asylum, in a place\nwhere he had no acquaintance. He accepted the offer, and lived\nwith the gardener till the time arrived that the ship was to sail\nto the isle of Ebene. He spent the interval in working by day in\nthe garden, and passing the night in sighs, tears, and\ncomplaints, thinking of his dear princess Badoura. We must leave\nhim in this place, to return to the princess, whom we left asleep\nin her tent.\n\nThe princess slept a long time, and when she awoke, wondered that\nthe prince was not with her; she called her women, and asked if\nthey knew where he was. They told her they saw him enter the\ntent, but did not see him go out. While they were talking to her,\nshe took up her girdle, found her little purse open, and that the\ntalisman was gone. She did not doubt but that the prince had\ntaken it to see what it was, and that he would bring it back with\nhim. She waited for him impatiently till night, and could not\nimagine what made him stay away from her so long.\n\nWhen it was quite dark, and she could hear no tidings of him, she\nfell into violent grief: she cursed the talisman, and him that\nmade it; and, had not she been restrained by duty, would have\ncursed the queen her mother, who had given her such a fatal\npresent. She was the more troubled, because she could not imagine\nhow her talisman should have caused the prince's separation from\nher; she did not however lose her judgment, and came to a\ncourageous resolution, not common with persons of her sex.\n\nOnly herself and her women knew of the prince's absence; for his\nmen were reposing or asleep in their tents. The princess, fearing\nthey would betray her, if they had any knowledge of this\ncircumstance, moderated her grief, and forbade her women to say\nor do any thing that might create the least suspicion. She then\nlaid aside her own habit, and put on one of Kummir al Zummaun's.\nShe was so much like him, that the next day, when she came\nabroad, the male attendants took her for the prince.\n\nShe commanded them to pack up their baggage and begin their\nmarch; and when all things were ready, she ordered one of her\nwomen to go into her litter, she herself mounting on horseback,\nand riding by her side.\n\nShe travelled several months by land and sea; the princess\ncontinuing the journey under the name of Kummir al Zummaun. They\ntouched at Ebene in their way to the isles of the children of\nKhaledan, and went to the capital of the island, where a king\nreigned, whose name was Armanos. The persons who first landed,\ngiving out that the ship carried prince Kummir al Zummaun, who\nwas returning from a long voyage, and was forced in by a storm,\nthe news of his arrival was soon carried to court.\n\nKing Armanos, accompanied by his courtiers' went immediately to\nwait on the prince, and met the princess just as she was landing,\nand going to the palace that had been prepared for her. He\nreceived her as the son of a king, who was his friend, and with\nwhom he always kept up a good understanding: he conducted her to\nthe palace, where an apartment was prepared for her and all her\nattendants; though she would fain have excused herself. He shewed\nher all possible honour, and entertained her three days together\nwith extraordinary magnificence. At the end of this time king\nArmanos understanding that the princess intended proceeding on\nher voyage, charmed with the air and qualities of such an\naccomplished prince, as he supposed her, took an opportunity when\nshe was alone, and spoke to her in this manner: \"You see, prince,\nthat I am old, and to my great mortification have not a son to\nwhom I may leave my crown. Heaven has only blest me with one\ndaughter, whose beauty cannot be better matched than with a\nprince of your rank and accomplishments. Instead of going home,\nstay and accept my crown, which I will resign in your favour. It\nis time for me to rest, and nothing could be a greater pleasure\nto me in my retirement, than to see my people ruled by so worthy\na successor to my throne.\"\n\nThe king's offer to bestow his only daughter in marriage, and\nwith her his kingdom, on the princess Badoura, put her into\nunexpected perplexity. She thought it would not become a princess\nof her rank to undeceive the king, and to own that she was not\nprince Kummir al Zummaun, whose part she had hitherto acted so\nwell. She was also afraid to decline the honour he offered her,\nlest, being so much bent upon the conclusion of the marriage, his\nkindness might turn to aversion, and he might attempt something\neven against her life.\n\nThese considerations, added to the prospect of obtaining a\nkingdom for the prince her husband, in case she found him again,\ndetermined her to accept the proposal of king Armanos, and marry\nhis daughter. After having stood silent for some minutes, she\nwith blushes, which the king took for a sign of modesty,\nanswered, \"I am infinitely obliged to your majesty for your good\nopinion of me, for the honour you do me, and the great favour you\noffer, which I cannot pretend to merit, and dare not refuse.\"\n\n\"But,\" continued she, \"I cannot accept this great alliance on any\nother condition, than that your majesty will assist me with your\ncounsels, and that I do nothing without having first obtained\nyour approbation.\"\n\nThe marriage treaty being thus concluded, the ceremony was put\noff till the next day. In the mean time princess Badoura gave\nnotice to her officers, who still took her for their prince, of\nwhat she was about to do, that they might not be surprised,\nassuring them the princess Badoura consented. She talked also to\nher women, and charged them to continue to keep the secret she\nhad entrusted to them.\n\nThe king of the isle of Ebene, rejoicing that he had found a\nson-in-law so much to his satisfaction, next morning summoned his\ncouncil, and acquainted them with his design of marrying his daughter\nto prince Kummir al Zummaun, whom he introduced to them, and told them\nhe resigned the crown to him, and required them to acknowledge him for\ntheir king, and swear fealty to him. Having said this, he descended\nfrom his throne, and the princess Badoura, by his order, ascended it.\nAs soon as the council broke up, the new king was proclaimed through\nthe city, rejoicings were appointed for several days, and couriers\ndespatched over all the kingdom, to see the same ceremonies observed\nwith the usual demonstrations of joy.\n\nAt night there were extraordinary feastings at the palace, and\nthe princess Haiatalnefous was conducted to the princess Badoura,\nwhom every body took for a man, dressed like a royal bride: the\nwedding was solemnized with the utmost splendour: they were left\ntogether, and retired to bed. In the morning, while the princess\nBadoura went to receive the compliments of the nobility in the\nhall of audience, where they congratulated her on her marriage\nand accession to the throne, king Armanos and his queen went to\nthe apartment of their daughter to inquire after her health.\nInstead of answering, she held down her head, and by her looks\nthey saw plainly enough that she was disappointed.\n\nKing Armanos, to comfort the princess Haiatalnefous, bade her not\nbe troubled. \"Prince Kummir al Zummaun,\" said he, \"when he landed\nhere might think only of going to his father's court. Though we\nhave engaged him to stay by arguments, with which he ought to be\nwell satisfied, yet it is probable he grieves at being so\nsuddenly deprived of the hopes of seeing either his father or any\nof his family. You must wait till those first emotions of filial\nlove are over; he will then conduct himself towards you as a good\nhusband ought to do.\"\n\nThe princess Badoura, under the name and character of Kummir al\nZummaun, the king of Ebene, spent the whole day in receiving the\ncompliments of the courtiers and the nobility of the kingdom who\nwere in and about the city, and in reviewing the regular troops\nof her household; and entered on the administration of affairs\nwith so much dignity and judgment, that she gained the general\napplause of all who were witnesses of her conduct.\n\nIt was evening before she returned to queen Haiatalnefous's\napartment, and she perceived by the reception she gave her, that\nthe bride was not at all pleased with the preceding night. She\nendeavoured to dissipate her grief by a long conversation, in\nwhich she employed all the wit she had (and she possessed a good\nshare), to persuade her she loved her entirely. She then gave her\ntime to go to bed, and while she was undressing she went to her\ndevotions; her prayers were so long, that queen Haiatalnefous was\nasleep before they were ended. She then left off, and lay down\nsoftly by the new queen, without waking her, and was as much\nafflicted at being forced to act a part which did not belong to\nher, as in the loss of her dear Kummir al Zummaun, for whom she:\nceased not to sigh. She rose as soon as it was day, before\nHaiatalnefous was awake; and, being dressed in her royal robes as\nking, went to council.\n\nKing Armanos, as he had done the day before, came early to visit\nthe queen his daughter, whom he found in tears; he wanted nothing\nmore to be informed of the cause of her trouble. Provoked at the\ncontempt, as he thought, put upon his daughter, of which he could\nnot imagine the reason: \"Daughter,\" said he, \"have patience for\nanother night. I raised your husband to the throne, and can pull\nhim down again, and drive him thence with shame, unless he shews\nyou proper regard. His treatment of you has provoked me so much,\nI cannot tell to what my resentment may transport me; the affront\nis as great to me as to you.\"\n\nIt was late again before the princess Badoura came to queen\nHaiatalnefous. She talked to her as she had done the night before, and\nafter the same manner went to her devotions, desiring the queen to go\nto bed. But Haiatalnefous would not be so served; she held her back,\nand obliged her to sit down. \"Tell me, I beseech you,\" said she, \"what\ncan you dislike in a princess of my youth and beauty, who not only\nloves but adores you, and thinks herself the happiest of women in\nhaving so amiable a prince for her husband. Any body but me would be\nnot merely offended but shocked by the slight, or rather the\nunpardonable affront you have put upon me, and abandon you to your\nevil destiny. However, though I did not love you so well as I do, yet\nout of pure good-nature and humanity, which makes me pity the\nmisfortunes of persons for whom I am less concerned, I cannot forbear\ntelling you, that the king my father is enraged against you for your\nbehaviour towards me, and to-morrow will make you feel the weight of\nhis just anger, if you continue to neglect me as you have hitherto\ndone. Do not therefore drive to despair a princess, who,\nnotwithstanding all your ill usage, cannot help loving you.\"\n\nThis address embarrassed the princess Badoura inexpressibly. She\ndid not doubt the truth of what Haiatalnefous had said. King\nArmanos's coldness to her the day before had given her but too\nmuch reason to see he was highly dissatisfied with her. The only\nway to justify her conduit was, to communicate her sex to the\nprincess Haiatalnefous. But though she had foreseen she should be\nunder a necessity of making such a discovery to her, yet her\nuncertainty as to the manner in which she would receive it, made\nher tremble; but, considering that if Kummir al Zummaun was\nalive, he must necessarily touch at the isle of Ebene in his way\nto his father's kingdom, she ought to preserve herself for his\nsake; and that it was impossible to do this, if she did not let\nthe princess Haiatalnefous know who and what she was, she\nresolved to venture the experiment.\n\nThe princess Badoura stood as one who had been struck dumb, and\nHaiatalnefous being impatient to hear what she could say, was\nabout to speak to her again, when she prevented her by these\nwords: \"Lovely and too charming princess! I own I have been in\nthe wrong, and I condemn myself for it; but I hope you will\npardon me, and keep the secret I am going to reveal to you for my\njustification.\"\n\nShe then opened her bosom, and proceeded thus: \"See, princess, if\na woman like yourself does not deserve to be forgiven. I believe\nyou will be so generous, at least when you know my story, and the\nafflicting circumstance that forced me to act the part I have\ndone.\"\n\nThe princess Badoura having discovered her sex to the princess of\nthe isle of Ebene, she again prayed her to keep the secret, and\nto pretend to be satisfied with her as a husband, till the\nprince's arrival, which she hoped would be in a little time.\n\n\"Princess,\" replied Haiatalnefous, \"your fortune is indeed\nstrange, that a marriage, so happy as yours, should be shortened\nby so unaccountable an accident, after a passion so reciprocal\nand full of wonders. Pray heaven you may soon meet with your\nhusband again, and assure yourself I will keep religiously the\nsecret committed to me. It will be to me the greatest pleasure in\nthe world to be the only person in the great kingdom of the isle\nof Ebene who knows what and who you are, while you go on\ngoverning the people as happily as you have begun. I only ask of\nyou at present to be your friend.\" Then the two princesses\ntenderly embraced each other, and after a thousand expressions of\nmutual friendship lay down to rest.\n\nThe two princesses having decided on a way to make belief that\nthe marriage had been consummated: queen Haiatalnefous's women\nwere deceived themselves next morning, and it deceived Armanos,\nhis queen, and the whole court. From this time the princess\nBadoura rose in the king's esteem and affection, governing the\nkingdom peaceably and prosperously.\n\nWhile things passed as already mentioned in the court of the isle\nof Ebene, prince Kummir al Zummaun remained in the city of\nidolaters with the gardener, who had offered him his house for a\nretreat till the ship should sail to convey him away.\n\nOne morning early, when the prince was as usual preparing to work\nin the garden, the gardener prevented him, saying, \"This day is a\ngreat festival among the idolaters, and because they abstain from\nall work themselves, to spend the time in their assemblies and\npublic rejoicings, they will not let the Moosulmauns labour; who,\nto gain their favour, generally attend their shows, which are\nworth seeing. You will therefore have nothing to do to-day: I\nleave you here. As the time approaches, at which it is usual for\nthe ship to sail for the isle of Ebene, I will call on some of my\nfriends to know when it will depart, and secure you a passage.\"\nThe gardener put on his best apparel, and went out.\n\nWhen the prince was alone, instead of going out to share in the\npublic joy of the city, his solitude brought to his mind, with\nmore than usual violence, the loss of his dear princess. He\nwalked up and down the garden sighing and lamenting, till the\nnoise which two birds made on a neighbouring tree led him to lift\nup his head, to see what was the matter.\n\nKummir al Zummaun was surprised to observe that the birds were\nfighting furiously: in a very little while, one of them fell down\ndead at the foot of the tree; the victorious bird took wing\nagain, and flew away.\n\nIn an instant, two other large birds, that had beheld the battle\nat a distance, came from the other side of the garden, and\npitched on the ground, one at the feet, and the other at the head\nof the dead bird: they looked at it for some time, shaking their\nheads in token of grief; after which they dug a grave with their\ntalons, and buried it.\n\nWhen they had filled up the grave with the earth they had turned\nup, they flew away, but returned in a few minutes, bringing with\nthem the bird that had committed the murder, one holding one of\nits wings in its beak, and the other one of its legs; the\ncriminal all the while crying out in a doleful manner, and\nstruggling to escape. They carried it to the grave of the bird\nwhich it had lately sacrificed to its rage, and there killed it\nin just revenge for the murder it had committed. They opened its\nbelly, tore out the entrails, left the body on the spot unburied,\nand flew away.\n\nThe prince had remained in astonishment all the time that he\nstood beholding this singular spectacle. He now drew near the\ntree where this scene had passed, and casting his eyes on the\nscattered entrails of the bird that had been last killed, spied\nsomething red hanging out of the stomach. He took it up, and\nfound it was his beloved princess Badoura's talisman, which had\ncost him so much pain and sorrow, and so many sighs, since the\nbird had snatched it out of his hand. \"Ah, cruel!\" said he to\nhimself; still looking on the bird, \"thou took'st delight in\ndoing mischief, so I have the less reason to complain of that\nwhich thou didst to me: but the greater it was, the more do I\nwish well to those that revenged my quarrel, punishing thee for\nthe murder of one of their own kind.\"\n\nIt is impossible to express the prince's joy: \"Dear princess,\"\ncontinued he to himself, \"this happy minute, which restores to me\na treasure so precious to thee, is, without doubt, a presage of\nour meeting again, and perhaps sooner than I think of. Thank\nheaven who sent me this good fortune, and gives me hope of the\ngreatest felicity that my heart can desire.\"\n\nSaying this, he kissed the talisman, wrapped it up in a riband,\nand tied it carefully about his arm. He had been almost every\nnight a stranger to rest, the recollection of his misfortunes\nkeeping him awake, but this night he enjoyed calm repose: he rose\nsomewhat later the next morning than he used to do, and went to\nthe gardener for orders. The good man bade him root up an old\ntree which bore no fruit.\n\nKummir al Zummaun took an axe and began his work. In cutting off\na branch of the root, he found his axe struck against something\nthat resisted the blow. He removed the earth, and discovered a\nbroad plate of brass, under which was a staircase of ten steps.\nHe went down, and at the bottom saw a cavity about six yards\nsquare with fifty brass urns placed in order, each with a cover\nover it. He opened them all, one after another, and found they\nwere all of them full of gold-dust. He came out of the cave,\nrejoicing that he had found such a vast treasure, put the brass\nplate on the staircase, and had the tree rooted up by the\ngardener's return.\n\nThe gardener had ascertained that the ship which was bound for\nthe isle of Ebene, would sail in a few days, but the exact time\nwas not yet fixed. His friend promised to let him know the day,\nif he called upon him on the morrow; and while the prince was\nrooting up the tree, he went to have his answer. He returned with\na joyful countenance, by which the prince guessed he brought him\ngood news. \"Son,\" said the old man (so he always called him on\naccount of the difference of years between him and the prince)\n\"be joyful, and prepare to embark in three days; the ship will\nthen certainly sail; I have agreed with the captain for your\npassage.\"\n\n\"In my present situation,\" replied Kummir al Zummaun, \"you could\nnot bring me more agreeable intelligence; and in return, I have\nalso tidings that will be as welcome to you: come along with me,\nand you shall see what good fortune heaven has in store for you.\"\n\nThe prince led the gardener to the place where he had rooted up\nthe tree, made him go down into the cave, shewed him what a\ntreasure he had discovered, thanking Providence for rewarding his\nvirtue, and the pains he had been at for so many years. \"What do\nyou mean?\" replied the gardener: \"do you imagine I will take\nthese riches as mine? The property is yours: I have no right to\nit. For fourscore years, since my father's death, I have done\nnothing but dig in this garden, and could not discover this\ntreasure, which is a sign it was destined for you, since God has\npermitted you to find it. It is better suited to a prince like\nyou than to me; I have one foot in the grave, and am in no want\nof any thing. Providence has bestowed it upon you, just when you\nare returning to that country, which will one day be your own,\nwhere you will make good use of it.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun would not be surpassed in generosity by the\ngardener. They disputed for some time. At last the prince\nsolemnly protested, that he would have none of it, unless the\ngardener would divide it with him. The good man, to please the\nprince, consented; so they shared it between them, and each had\ntwenty-five urns.\n\n\"Having thus divided it, son,\" said the gardener to the prince,\n\"it is not enough that you have got this treasure; we must now\ncontrive to carry it privately aboard, otherwise you will run the\nrisk of losing it. There are no olives in the isle of Ebene,\nthose that are exported hence are a good commodity there: you\nknow I have plenty of them, take what you will; fill fifty pots,\nhalf with the gold-dust and half with olives, and I will get them\ncarried to the ship when you embark.\"\n\nThe prince followed this advice, and spent the rest of the day in\npacking up the gold and the olives in the fifty pots, and fearing\nthe talisman, which he wore on his arm, might be lost again, he\ncarefully put it into one of the pots, with a particular mark to\ndistinguish it from the rest. When they were all ready to be\nshipped, night coming on, the prince retired with the gardener,\nand related to him the battle of the birds, with the circumstance\nby which he had found the talisman. The gardener was equally\nsurprised and joyful to hear it on his account. Whether the old\nman was quite worn out with age, or had exhausted himself too\nmuch that day, the gardener had a very bad night; he grew worse\nthe next day, and on the third day, when the prince was to\nembark, was so ill, that it was plain he was near his end. As\nsoon as day broke, the captain of the ship came with several\nseamen to the gardener's; they knocked at the garden-door, which\nthe prince opened to them. They asked him for the passenger who\nwas to go with them. The prince answered, \"I am he; the gardener\nwho agreed with you for my passage is sick, and cannot be spoken\nwith; come in, and let your men carry those pots of olives and my\nbaggage aboard for me; I will only take leave of the gardener,\nand follow you.\"\n\nThe seamen took the pots and the baggage, and the captain bade\nthe prince make haste, the wind being fair.\n\nWhen the captain and his men were gone, Kummir al Zummaun went to\nthe gardener to take his leave of him, and thanked him for all\nhis good offices; but found him in the agonies of death, and had\nscarcely time to bid him rehearse the articles of his faith,\nwhich all good Moosulmauns do before they die, before the\ngardener expired.\n\nThe prince being under the necessity of embarking immediately,\nhastened to pay the last duty to the deceased. He washed his\nbody, buried him in his own garden, and having nobody to assist\nhim, it was almost evening before he had put him into the ground.\nAs soon as he had done, he ran to the water-side, carrying with\nhim the key of the garden, designing, if he had time, to give it\nto the landlord; otherwise to deposit it in some trusty person's\nhand before a witness, that he might have it after he was gone.\nWhen he reached the port, he was told the ship had sailed several\nhours, and was already out of sight. It had waited three hours\nfor him, and the wind standing fair, the captain durst not stay\nlonger.\n\nIt is easy to imagine that Kummir al Zummaun was exceedingly grieved\nat being forced to remain longer in a country where he neither had,\nnor wished to have, any acquaintance; to think that he must wait\nanother year for the opportunity he had lost. But the greatest\naffliction of all was, his having parted with the princess Badoura's\ntalisman, which he now considered lost. The only course left him was\nto return to the garden from whence he had come, to rent it of the\nlandlord and continue to cultivate it by himself, deploring his misery\nand misfortunes. He hired a boy to assist him to do some part of the\ndrudgery: that he might not lose the other half of the treasure which\ncame to him by the death of the gardener, who died without heirs, he\nput the gold-dust into fifty other jars, which he filled up with\nolives, to be ready against the ship's return.\n\nWhile the prince was beginning another year of labour, sorrow,\nand impatience, the ship having a fair wind, continued her voyage\nto the isle of Ebene, and happily arrived at the capital.\n\nThe palace being by the sea side, the new king, or rather the\nprincess Badoura, espying the ship as she was entering into the\nport, with all her flags, asked what vessel it was: she was\nanswered, that it came annually from the city of the idolaters,\nand was generally richly laden.\n\nThe princess, who always had Kummir al Zummaun in her mind,\nimagined that the prince might be aboard; and resolved to visit\nthe ship and meet him, without discovering herself; but to\nobserve him, and take proper measures for their making themselves\nmutually known. Under pretence of inquiring what merchandize was\non board, and having the first sight of the goods, she commanded\na horse to be brought, which she mounted, accompanied by several\nofficers in waiting, and arrived at the port, just as the captain\ncame ashore. She ordered him to be brought before her, asked\nwhence he had come, how long he had been on his voyage, and what\ngood or bad fortune he had met with: if he had no stranger of\nquality aboard, and particularly with what his ship was laden.\n\nThe captain gave a satisfactory answer to all her demands; and as\nto passengers, assured her there were none but merchants in his\nship, who used to come every year, and bring rich stuffs from\nseveral parts of the world to trade with, the finest linens\npainted and plain, diamonds, musk, ambergris, camphire, civet,\nspices, drugs, olives, and many other articles.\n\nThe princess Badoura loved olives extremely when she heard the\ncaptain speak of them, \"Land them,\" said she, \"I will take them\noff your hands; as to the other goods, tell the merchants to\nbring them to me, and let me see them before they dispose of, or\nshew them to any one.\"\n\nThe captain taking her for the king of the isle of Ebene,\nreplied, \"Sire, there are fifty great jars of olives, but they\nbelong to a merchant whom I was forced to leave behind. I gave\nhim notice myself that I stayed for him, and waited a long time,\nbut he not coming, and the wind offering, I was afraid of losing\nthe opportunity, and so set sail.\" The princess answered, \"No\nmatter, bring them ashore; we will nevertheless make a bargain\nfor them.\"\n\nThe captain sent the boat, which in a little time returned with\nthe olives. The princess demanded how much the fifty jars might\nbe worth in the isle of Ebene? \"Sir,\" replied the captain, \"the\nmerchant is very poor, and your majesty will do him a singular\nfavour if you give him one thousand pieces of silver.\"\n\n\"To satisfy him,\" said the princess, \"and because you tell me he\nis poor, I will order you one thousand pieces of gold for him,\nwhich do you take care to give him.\" The money was accordingly\npaid, and the jars carried to the palace.\n\nNight drawing on the princess withdrew into the inner palace, and\nwent to the princess Haiatalnefous's apartment, ordering the\nolives to be brought thither. She opened one jar to let the\nprincess Haiatalnefous taste them, and poured them into a dish.\nGreat was her astonishment, when she found the olives were\nmingled with gold-dust. \"What can this mean!\" said she, \"It is\nwonderful beyond comprehension.\" Her curiosity increasing from so\nextraordinary an adventure, she ordered Haiatalnefous's women to\nopen and empty all the jars in her presence; and her wonder was\nstill greater, when she saw that the olives in all of them were\nmixed with gold-dust; but when she saw her talisman drop out, she\nwas so surprised that she fainted away. Haiatalnefous and her\nwomen brought the princess to herself, by throwing cold water in\nher face. When she recovered, she took the talisman, and kissed\nit again and again; but not being willing that the princess\nHaiatalnefous's women, who were ignorant of her disguise, should\nhear what she said, and it growing late, she dismissed them.\n\"Princess,\" said she to Haiatalnefous, as soon as they were gone,\n\"you who have heard my story, doubtless, guessed it was at the\nsight of the talisman that I fainted. This is that talisman, and\nthe fatal cause of my dosing my husband; but as it was that which\ncaused our separation, so I foresee it will be the means of our\nmeeting.\"\n\nThe next day, as soon as it was light, she sent for the captain\nof the ship; and when he came, spoke to him thus: \"I want to know\nsomething more of the merchant to whom the olives belong, that I\nbought of you yesterday. I think you told me you left him behind\nin the city of the idolaters; can you tell me what is his\nemployment there?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the captain, \"I can speak from my own knowledge. I\nagreed for his passage with a very old gardener, who told me I\nshould find him in his garden, where he worked under him. He\nshewed me the place, and for that reason I told your majesty he\nwas poor. I went thither to call him. I told him what haste I was\nin, spoke to him myself in the garden, and cannot be mistaken in\nthe man.\"\n\n\"If what you say is true,\" replied the princess, \"you must set\nsail this very day for the city of idolaters, and bring me that\ngardener's man, who is my debtor; else I will not only confiscate\nall your goods and those of your merchants, but your life and\ntheirs shall answer for his. I have ordered my seal to be put on\nthe warehouses where their goods are deposited, which shall not\nbe taken off till your return: this is all I have to say to you;\ngo and do as I command you.\"\n\nThe captain could make no reply to this order, the disobeying of\nwhich must have proved of such loss to him and his merchants. He\nacquainted them with it; and they hastened him away as fast as\nthey could, after he had laid in a stock of provisions and fresh\nwater for his voyage.\n\nThey were so diligent, that he set sail the same day. He had a\nprosperous voyage to the city of the idolaters, where he arrived\nin the night. When he was got as near the city as he thought\nconvenient, he would not cast anchor, but lay to off shore; and\ngoing into his boat, with six of his stoutest seamen, landed a\nlittle way off the port, whence he went directly to the garden of\nKummir al Zummaun.\n\nThough it was about midnight when he came there, the prince was\nnot asleep. His separation from the fair princess of China his\nwife afflicted him as usual. He cursed the minute in which his\ncuriosity tempted him to touch the fatal girdle.\n\nThus was he passing those hours which are devoted to rest, when he\nheard somebody knock at the garden-door: he ran hastily to it; but he\nhad no sooner opened it than the captain and his seamen took hold of\nhim, and carried him to the boat, and so on ship-board. As soon as he\nwas safely lodged, they set sail, and made the best of their way to\nthe isle of Ebene.\n\nHitherto Kummir al Zummaun, the captain, and his men, had not\nsaid a word to one another; at last the prince asked the captain,\nwhom he knew again, why they had taken him away by force? The\ncaptain in his turn demanded of the prince, whether he was not a\ndebtor of the king of Ebene? \"I the king of Ebene's debtor!\"\nreplied the prince in amazement; \"I do not know him, and have\nnever set foot in his kingdom.\" The captain answered, \"You should\nknow that better than I; you will talk to him yourself in a\nlittle while; till then stay here and have patience.\"\n\nThe captain was not long on his voyage back to the isle of Ebene.\nThough it was night when he cast anchor in the port, he landed\nimmediately, and taking his prisoner with him, hastened to the\npalace, where he demanded to be introduced to the king.\n\nThe princess Badoura had withdrawn into the inner palace, but as\nsoon as she heard of the captain's return, she came out to speak\nto him. Immediately as she cast her eyes on the prince, for whom\nshe had shed so many tears, she recognized him in his gardener's\nhabit. As for the prince, who trembled in the presence of a king,\nas he thought her, to whom he was to answer for an imaginary\ndebt, it could not enter into his thoughts, that the person whom\nhe so earnestly desired to see stood before him. If the princess\nhad followed the dictates of her inclination, she would have run\nto him, and, by embracing, discovered herself to him; but she put\na constraint on herself, believing that it was for the interest\nof both that she should act the king a little longer before she\nmade herself known. She contented herself for the present to put\nhim into the hands of an officer, who was then in waiting,\ncharging him to take care of him, and use him well, till the next\nday.\n\nWhen the princess Badoura had provided for Kummir al Zummaun, she\nturned to the captain, whom she was now to reward for the\nimportant service he had done her. She commanded another officer\nto go immediately to take the seal off the warehouse which\ncontained his goods, and gave him a rich diamond, worth much more\nthan the expense he had been at in both his voyages. She also\nbade him keep the thousand pieces of gold she had given for the\nolives, telling him she would make up the account with the\nmerchant whom he had brought with him.\n\nThis done, she returned to the princess of the isle of Ebene's\napartment, to whom she communicated her joy, praying her to keep\nthe secret still. She told how she intended to manage the\ndiscovering of herself to Kummir al Zummaun, and resignation of\nthe kingdom to him; adding, there was so vast a distance between\na gardener, as he would appear to the public, and a great prince,\nthat it might be dangerous to raise him at once from the lowest\ncondition of the people to the highest honour, however justice\nmight require it should be done. The princess of the isle of\nEbene was so far from betraying her, that she rejoiced with her,\nand entered into the design.\n\nThe next morning the princess of China ordered Kummir al Zummaun\nto be conducted early to the bath, and then to be appareled in\nthe robes of an emir or governor of a province. She commanded him\nto be introduced into the council, where his fine person and\nmajestic air drew upon him the eyes of all the lords present.\n\nThe princess Badoura herself was charmed to see him look as\nlovely as ever, and her pleasure inspired her to speak the more\nwarmly in his praise. When she spoke to the council, having\nordered the prince to take his seat among the emirs, she\naddressed them thus: \"My lords, Kummir al Zummaun, whom I have\nadvanced to the same dignity with yourselves, is not unworthy of\nthe place assigned him. I have known enough of him in my travels\nto answer for him, and I can assure you he will make his merit\nknown to all of you, as well by his velour, as by a thousand\nother brilliant qualities, and the extent of his genius.\"\n\nThe prince was extremely amazed to hear the king of the isle of\nEbene, whom he was far from taking for a woman, much less for his\ndear princess, name him, and declare that he knew him, while he\nthought himself certain he had never seen him before. He was much\nmore surprised when he heard him praise him so highly. Those\npraises however from the mouth of majesty did not disconcert him,\nthough he received them with such modesty, as shewed that he\ndeserved them. He prostrated himself before the throne of the\nking, and rising again, said, \"Sire, I want words to express my\ngratitude to your majesty for the honour you have done me; I\nshall do all in my power to render myself worthy of your royal\nfavour.\"\n\nFrom the council-board the prince was conducted to a palace,\nwhich the princess Badoura had ordered to be fitted up for him;\nwhere he found officers and domestics ready to obey his commands,\na stable full of fine horses, and every thing suitable to the\nquality of an emir. When he was in his closet, the steward of his\nhousehold brought him a strong box full of gold for his expenses.\n\nThe less he could conceive whence his happiness proceeded, the\nmore he wondered, but he never once imagined that he owed it to\nthe princess of China.\n\nTwo or three days after, the princess Badoura, that he might be\nnearer her person and in a more distinguished post, made him high\ntreasurer, which office had lately become vacant. He conducted\nhimself in his new charge with so much integrity, yet obliging\nevery body, that he not only gained the friendship of the great,\nbut also the affections of the people, by his uprightness and\nbounty.\n\nKummir al Zummaun had been the happiest man in the world, to see\nhimself in so high favour with a foreign king as he conceived,\nand increasing in the esteem of all his subjects, if he had had\nhis princess with him. In the midst of his good fortune he never\nceased lamenting her, and grieved that he could hear no tidings\nof her, especially in a country which she must necessarily have\nvisited in her way to his father's court after their separation.\nHe would have mistrusted something, had the princess still gone\nby the name of Kummir al Zummaun, which she took with his habit;\nbut on her accession to the throne, she had changed it, and taken\nthat of Armanos, in honour of the old king her father-in-law.\n\nThe princess desiring that her husband should owe the discovery\nof her to herself alone, resolved to put an end to her own\ntorments and his; for she had observed, that as often as she\ndiscoursed with him about the affairs of office, he heaved such\ndeep sighs, as could be addressed to nobody but her. While she\nherself lived in such a constraint, that she could endure it no\nlonger.\n\nThe princess Badoura had no sooner formed her resolution in\nconcert with the princess Haiatalnefous, than she the same day\ntook Kummir al Zummaun aside, saying, \"I must talk with you about\nan affair which requires much consideration, and on which I want\nyour advice. As I do not see how it can be done so conveniently\nas in the night, come hither in the evening, and leave word at\nhome not to be waited for; I will take care to provide you a\nlodging.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun came punctually to the palace at the hour\nappointed by the princess; she took him with her into the inner\napartment, and having told the chief eunuch, who prepared to\nfollow her, that she had no occasion for his service, conducted\nhim into a different apartment from that of the princess\nHaiatalnefous, where she used to sleep.\n\nWhen the prince and princess entered the chamber, she shut the\ndoor, and taking the talisman out of a little box, gave it to\nKummir al Zummaun, saying, \"It is not long since an astrologer\npresented me with this talisman; you being skilful in all things,\nmay perhaps tell me its use.\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun took the talisman, and drew near a lamp to view\nit. As soon as he recollected it, with an astonishment which gave\nthe princess great pleasure, \"Sire,\" said he to the prince, \"your\nmajesty asked me the use of this talisman. Alas! its only purpose\nis to kill me with grief and despair, if I do not quickly find\nthe most charming and lovely princess in the world to whom it\nbelonged, whose loss it occasioned me by a strange adventure, the\nrecital of which will move your majesty to pity such an\nunfortunate husband and lover as I am.\"\n\n\"You shall tell me the particulars another time,\" replied the\nprincess; \"I know something of them already: remain here a\nlittle, and I will soon return to you.\"\n\nAt these words she went into her closet, put off her royal\nturban, and in a few minutes dressed herself in her female\nattire; and having the girdle round her, which she had on the day\nof their separation, re-entered the chamber.\n\nKummir al Zummaun immediately recognized his dear princess, ran\nto her, and tenderly embraced her, exclaiming, \"How much am I\nobliged to the king who has so agreeably surprised me!\" \"Do not\nexpect to see the king any more,\" replied the princess, embracing\nhim in her turn, with tears in her eyes: \"you see him in me; sit\ndown, and I will explain this enigma to you.\"\n\nThey seated themselves, and the princess related the plan she had\nformed in the plain where they were encamped the last time they\nwere together, as soon as she perceived she waited for him to no\npurpose; how she went through with it till she arrived at the\nisle of Ebene, where she had been obliged to marry the princess\nHaiatalnefous, and accept of the crown, which king Armanos\noffered her as a condition of the marriage: how the princess,\nwhose merit she highly extolled, had obliged her to make\ndeclaration of her sex: and how she found the talisman in the\npots of olives mingled with the gold-dust, which she had bought,\nand how this circumstance had proved the cause of her sending for\nhim from the city of the idolaters.\n\nWhen she had concluded her adventure, she obliged the prince to\ntell her by what means the talisman had occasioned their\nseparation. He satisfied her inquiries; after which, it growing\nlate, they retired to rest.\n\nThe princess Badoura and Kummir al Zummaun rose next morning as soon\nas it was light, but the princess would no more put on her royal robes\nas king; she dressed herself in her female attire, and then sent the\nchief eunuch to king Armanos, her father-in-law, to desire he would\noblige her by coming to her apartment.\n\nWhen the king entered the chamber, he was amazed at seeing a lady\nwho was unknown to him, and the high treasurer with her, who was\nnot by etiquette permitted to come within the inner palace. He\nsat down, and asked where the king was.\n\nThe princess answered, \"Yesterday I was king, but to-day I am\nonly princess of China, wife to the true prince Kummir al\nZummaun. If your majesty will have patience to hear our\nadventures, I hope you will not condemn me for putting an\ninnocent deceit upon you.\" The king bade her go on, and heard her\nnarrative from beginning to end with astonishment. The princess\non finishing said to him, \"Sir, though women do not easily comply\nwith the liberty assumed by men to have several wives; yet if\nyour majesty will consent to give your daughter the princess\nHaiatalnefous in marriage to the prince, I will with all my heart\nyield up to her the rank and quality of queen, which of right\nbelongs to her, and content myself with the second place. If this\nprecedence were not her due, I would resign it to her, after the\nobligation I have to her for keeping my secret so generously. If\nyour majesty refer it to her consent, I am sure of that, having\nalready consulted her; and I will pass my word that she will be\nvery well satisfied.\"\n\nKing Armanos listened to the princess with astonishment, and when\nshe had done, turned to Kummir al Zummaun, saying, \"Son, since\nthe princess Badoura your wife, whom I have all along thought to\nbe my son-in-law, through a deceit of which I cannot complain,\nassures me, that she will divide your bed with my daughter; I\nwould know if you are willing to marry her, and accept of the\ncrown, which the princess Badoura would deservedly wear, if she\ndid not quit it out of love to you.\" \"Sir,\" replied Kummir al\nZummaun, \"though I desire nothing so earnestly as to see the king\nmy father, yet the obligations I have to your majesty and the\nprincess Haiatalnefous are so weighty, I can refuse her nothing.\"\nThe prince was then proclaimed king, and married the same day\nwith all possible demonstrations of joy; and had every reason to\nbe well pleased with the princess Haiatalnefous's beauty, wit,\nand love for him.\n\nThe two queens lived together afterwards on the same friendly\nterms and in the same cordiality as they had done before, both\nbeing contented with Kummir al Zummaun's equal carriage towards\nthem.\n\nThe next year each brought him a son at the same time, and the\nbirths of the two princes were celebrated with extraordinary\nrejoicings: the first, whom the princess Badoura was delivered\nof, was named Amgiad (most illustrious); and the other, born of\nqueen Haiatalnefous, Assad (most virtuous).\n\n\n\n\n           The Story of the Princes Amgiad and Assad.\n\n\n\nThe two princes were brought up with great care; and, when they\nwere old enough, had the same governor, the same instructors in\nthe arts and sciences, and the same master for each exercise. The\naffection which from their infancy they conceived for each other\noccasioned an uniformity of manners and inclination, which\nincreased it. When they were of an age to have separate\nhouseholds, they loved one another so tenderly, that they begged\nthe king to let them live together. He consented, and they had\nthe same domestics, the same equipages, the same apartment, and\nthe same table. Kummir al Zummaun had formed so good an opinion\nof their capacity and integrity, that he made no scruple of\nadmitting them into his council at the age of eighteen, and\nletting them, by turns, preside there, while he took the\ndiversion of hunting, or amused himself with his queens at his\nhouses of pleasure.\n\nThe princes being equally handsome, the two queens loved them\nwith incredible tenderness; but the princess Badoura had a\ngreater kindness for prince Assad, queen Haiatalnefous's son,\nthan for her own; and queen Haiatalnefous loved Amgiad, the\nprincess Badoura's son, better than her own son Assad.\n\nThe two queens thought at first this inclination was nothing but a\nregard which proceeded from an excess of their own friendship for each\nother, which they still preserved: but as the two princes advanced in\nyears, that friendship grew into a violent love, when they appeared in\ntheir eyes to possess graces that blinded their reason. They knew how\ncriminal their passion was, and did all they could to resist it; but\nthe familiar intercourse with them, and the habit of admiring,\npraising, and caressing them from their infancy, which they could not\nrestrain when they grew up, inflamed their desires to such a height as\nto overcome their reason and virtue. It was their and the princes'\nill-fortune, that the latter being used to be so treated by them, had\nnot the least suspicion of their infamous passion.\n\nThe two queens had not concealed from each other this passion,\nbut had not the boldness to declare it to the princes they loved;\nthey at last resolved to do it by a letter, and to execute their\nwicked design, availed themselves of the king's absence, when he\nwas gone on a hunting party for three or four days.\n\nPrince Amgiad presided at the council on the day of his father's\ndeparture, and administered justice till two or three o'clock in the\nafternoon. As he returned to the palace from the council-chamber, an\neunuch took him aside, and gave him a letter from queen Haiatalnefous.\nAmgiad took it, and read it with horror. \"Traitor,\" said he, to the\neunuch as soon as he had perused it through, \"is this the fidelity\nthou owest thy master and thy king?\" At these words he drew his sabre\nand cut off his head.\n\nHaving done this in a transport of anger he ran to the princess\nBadoura his mother, shewed her the letter, told her the contents\nof it, and from whom it came. Instead of hearkening to him, she\nfell into a passion, and said, \"Son, it is all a calumny and\nimposture; queen Haiatalnefous is a very discreet princess, and\nyou are very bold to talk to me against her.\" The prince, enraged\nat his mother, exclaimed, \"You are both equally wicked, and were\nit not for the respect I owe my father, this day should have been\nthe last of Haiatalnefous's life.\"\n\nQueen Badoura might have imagined by the example of her son\nAmgiad, that prince Assad, who was not less virtuous, would not\nreceive more favourably a declaration of love, similar to that\nwhich had been made to his brother. Yet that did not hinder her\npersisting in her abominable design; she, the next day, wrote him\na letter, which she entrusted to an old woman who had access to\nthe palace, to convey to him.\n\nThe old woman watched her opportunity to put it into his hands as\nhe was coming from the council-chamber, where he presided that\nday in his turn. The prince took it, and reading it, fell into\nsuch a rage, that, without giving himself time to finish it, he\ndrew his sabre and punished the old woman as she deserved. He ran\nimmediately to the apartment of his mother queen Haiatalnefous,\nwith the letter in his hand: he would have shewn it to her, but\nshe did not give him time, crying out, \"I know what you mean; you\nare as impertinent as your brother Amgiad: be gone, and never\ncome into my presence again.\"\n\nAssad stood as one thunder-struck at these words, so little\nexpected. He was so enraged, that he had like to have given fatal\ndemonstrations of his anger; but he contained himself, and\nwithdrew without making any reply, fearing if he stayed he might\nsay something unworthy the greatness of his soul. Amgiad had not\nmentioned to him the letter which he had received the preceding\nday; and finding by what his mother had said to him that she was\naltogether as criminal as queen Haiatalnefous, he went to his\nbrother, to chide him for not communicating the hated secret to\nhim, and to mingle his own sorrow with his.\n\nThe two queens, rendered desperate by finding in the two princes\nsuch virtue as should have made them look inwardly on themselves,\nrenounced all sentiments of nature and of mothers and conspired\ntogether to destroy them. They made their women believe the two\nprinces had attempted their virtue: they counterfeited the matter\nto the life by their tears, cries, and curses; and lay in the\nsame bed, as if the resistance they pretended to have made had\nreduced them almost to death's-door.\n\nWhen Kummir al Zummaun returned to the palace from hunting, he\nwas much surprised to find them in bed together, in tears, acting\ndespondency so well, that he was touched with compassion. He\nasked them with earnestness what had happened to them.\n\nAt this question, the dissembling queens wept and sobbed more\nbitterly than before; and after he had pressed them again and\nagain to tell him, queen Badoura at last answered him: \"Sir, our\ngrief is so well founded, that we ought not to see the light of\nthe sun, or live a day, after the violence that has been offered\nus by the unparalleled brutality of the princes your sons. They\nformed a horrid design, encouraged by your absence, and had the\nboldness and insolence to attempt our honour. Your majesty will\nexcuse us from saying any more; you may guess the rest by our\naffliction.\"\n\nThe king sent for the two princes, and would have killed them both\nwith his own hand, had not old king Armanos his father-in-law, who was\npresent, held his hand: \"Son,\" said he, \"what are you going to do?\nWill you stain your hands and your palace with your own blood? There\nare other ways of punishing them, if they are really guilty.\"\n\nHe endeavoured thus to appease him, and desired him to examine\nwhether they did indeed commit the crime of which they were\naccused.\n\nIt was no difficult matter for Kummir al Zummaun to restrain himself\nso far as not to butcher his own children. He ordered them to be put\nunder arrest, and sent for an emir called Jehaun-dar, whom he\ncommanded to conduct them out of the city, and put them to death, at a\ngreat distance, and in what place he pleased, but not to see him\nagain, unless he brought their clothes with him, as a token of his\nhaving executed his orders.\n\nJehaun-dar travelled with them all night, and early next morning\nmade them alight, telling them, with tears in his eyes, the\ncommands he had received. \"Believe me, princes,\" said he, \"it is\na trying duty imposed on me by your father, to execute this cruel\norder: would to heaven I could avoid it!\" The princes replied,\n\"Do your duty; we know well you are not the cause of our death,\nand forgive you with all our hearts.\"\n\nThey then embraced, and bade each other a last adieu with so much\ntenderness, that it was a long time before they could leave one\nanother's arms. Prince Assad was the first who prepared himself\nfor the fatal stroke. \"Begin with me,\" said he \"that I may not\nhave the affliction to see my dear brother Amgiad die.\" To this\nAmgiad objected; and Jehaun-dar could not, without weeping more\nthan before, be witness of this dispute between them; which\nshewed how perfect and sincere was their affection.\n\nAt last they determined the contest, by desiring Jehaun-dar to\ntie them together, and put them in the most convenient posture\nfor him to give them the fatal stroke at one blow. \"Do not refuse\nthe comfort of dying together to two unfortunate brothers, who\nfrom their birth have shared every thing, even their innocence,\"\nsaid the generous princes.\n\nJehaun-dar granted their request; he tied them to each other,\nbreast to breast; and when he had placed them so that he thought\nhe might strike the blow with more certainty, asked them if they\nhad any thing to command him before they died.\n\n\"We have only one thing to desire of you,\" replied the princes,\n\"which is, to assure the king our father on your return, that we\nare innocent; but that we do not charge him with our deaths,\nknowing he is not well informed of the truth of the crime of\nwhich we are accused.\"\n\nJehaun-dar promised to do what they desired and drew his sabre,\nwhen his horse, being tied to a tree just by, started at the\nsight of the sabre, which glittered against the sun, broke his\nbridle, and ran away into the country.\n\nHe was a very valuable horse, and so richly caparisoned, that the\nemir could not bear the loss of him. This accident so vexed him,\nthat instead of beheading the two princes, he threw away his\nsabre, and ran after his horse.\n\nThe horse galloped on before him, and led him several miles into\na wood. Jehaun-dar followed him, and the horse's neighing roused\na lion that was asleep. The lion started up, and instead of\nrunning after the horse, made directly towards Jehaun-dar, who\nthought no more of his horse, but how to save his life. He ran\ninto the thickest of the wood, the lion keeping him in view,\npursuing him among the trees. In this extremity he said to\nhimself, \"Heaven had not punished me in this manner, but to shew\nthe innocence of the princes whom I was commanded to put to\ndeath; and now, to my misfortune, I have not my sabre to defend\nmyself.\"\n\nWhile Jehaun-dar was gone, the two princes were seized with a\nviolent thirst, occasioned by the fear of death, notwithstanding\ntheir noble resolution to submit to the king their father's cruel\norder.\n\nPrince Amgiad told the prince his brother there was a spring not\nfar off. \"Ah! brother,\" said Assad, \"we have so little time to\nlive, what need have we to quench our thirst? We can bear it a\nfew minutes longer.\"\n\nAmgiad taking no notice of his brother's remonstrance, unbound\nhimself, and the prince his brother. They went to the spring, and\nhaving refreshed themselves, heard the roaring of the lion. They\nalso heard Jehaun-dar's dreadful cries in the wood, which he and\nthe horse had entered. Amgiad took up the sabre which lay on the\nground, saying to Assad, \"Come, brother, let us go and save the\nunfortunate Jehaun-dar; perhaps we may arrive soon enough to\ndeliver him from the danger to which he is now exposed.\"\n\nThe two princes ran to the wood, and entered it just as the lion\nwas going to fall on Jehaun-dar. The beast seeing prince Amgiad\nadvancing towards him with a sabre in his hand, left his prey,\nand rushed towards him with great fury. The prince met him\nintrepidly, and gave him a blow so forcibly and dexterously, that\nit felled him to the ground.\n\nWhen Jehaun-dar saw that he owed his life to the two princes, he\nthrew himself at their feet, and thanked them for the obligation,\nin words which sufficiently testified his gratitude. \"Princes,\"\nsaid he, rising up and kissing their hands, with tears in his\neyes, \"God forbid that ever I should attempt any thing against\nyour lives, after you have so kindly and bravely saved mine. It\nshall never be said that the emir Jehaun-dar was guilty of such\ningratitude.\"\n\n\"The service we have done you,\" answered the princes, \"ought not\nto prevent you from executing the orders you have received: let\nus first catch your horse, and then return to the place where you\nleft us.\"--They were at no great trouble to take the horse, whose\nmettle was abated with running. When they had restored him to\nJehaun-dar, and were come near the fountain, they begged of him\nto do as their father had commanded; but all to no purpose. \"I\nonly take the liberty to desire,\" said Jehaun-dar, \"and I pray\nyou not to deny me, that you will divide my clothes between you,\nand give me yours; and go to such a distance, that the king your\nfather may never hear of you more.\"\n\nThe princes were forced to comply with his request. Each of them\ngave him his clothes, and covered themselves with what he could\nspare them of his. He also gave them all the money he had about\nhim, and took his leave of them.\n\nAfter the emir Jehaun-dar had parted from the princes, he passed\nthrough the wood where Amgiad had killed the lion, in whose blood\nhe dipped their clothes: which having done, he proceeded on his\nway to the capital of the isle of Ebene.\n\nOn his arrival there, Kummir al Zummaun inquired if he had done\nas commanded? Jehaun-dar replied, \"Behold, sir, the proofs of my\nobedience;\" giving him at the same time the princes' clothes.\n\n\"How did they bear their punishment?\" Jehaun-dar answered, \"With\nwonderful constancy and resignation to the decrees of heaven,\nwhich shewed how sincerely they made profession of their\nreligion: but particularly with great respect towards your\nmajesty, and an inconceivable submission to the sentence of\ndeath. 'We die innocent,' said they; 'but we do not murmur: we\ntake our death from the hand of heaven, and forgive our father;\nfor we know he has not been rightly informed of the truth.'\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun was sensibly touched at Jehaun-dar's relation.\nA thought occurred to him to search the princes' pockets; he\nbegan with prince Amgiad's where he found a letter open, which he\nread. He no sooner recognized the hand-writing than he was\nchilled with horror. He then, trembling, put his hand into that\nof Assad, and finding there queen Badoura's letter, his horror\nwas so great, that he fainted.\n\nNever was grief equal to Kummir all Zummaun's, when he recovered\nfrom his fit: \"Barbarous father,\" cried he, \"what hast thou done?\nThou hast murdered thy own children, thy innocent children! Did\nnot their wisdom, their modesty, their obedience, their\nsubmission to thy will in all things, their virtue, all plead in\ntheir behalf? Blind and insensible father! dost thou deserve to\nlive after the execrable crime thou hast committed? I have\nbrought this abomination on my own head; and heaven chastises me\nfor not persevering in that aversion to women with which I was\nborn. And, oh ye detestable wives! I will not, no, I will not, as\nye deserve, wash off the guilt of your sins with your blood; ye\nare unworthy of my rage: but I will never see you more!\"\n\nKummir al Zummaun was a man of too much religion to break his\nvow: he commanded the two queens to be lodged in separate\napartments that very day, where they were kept under strong\nguards, and he never saw them again as long as he lived.\n\nWhile the king of the isle of Ebene was afflicting himself for\nthe loss of his sons, of whose death he thought he had been the\nauthor by his too rashly condemning them, the royal youths\nwandered through deserts, endeavouring to avoid all places that\nwere inhabited, and shun every human creature. They lived on\nherbs and wild fruits, and drank only rain-water, which they\nfound in the crevices of the rocks. They slept and watched by\nturns at night, for fear of wild beasts.\n\nWhen they had travelled about a month, they came to the foot of a\nfrightful mountain of black stones, and to all appearance\ninaccessible. They at last espied a kind of path, but so narrow\nand difficult that they durst not venture to follow it: this\nobliged them to go along by the foot of the mountain, in hopes of\nfinding a more easy way to reach the summit, but could discover\nnothing like a path, so they were forced to return to that which\nthey had neglected. They still thought it would be in vain for\nthem to attempt it. They deliberated for a long time what they\nshould do, and at last, encouraging one another, resolved to\nascend.\n\nThe more they advanced the higher and steeper the mountain\nappeared, which made them think several times of giving over\ntheir enterprise. When the one was weary, the other stopped, and\nthey took breath together; sometimes they were both so tired,\nthat they wanted strength to proceed: then despairing of being\nable to reach the top they thought they must lie down and die of\nfatigue and weariness. A few minutes after, when they found they\nrecovered strength, they animated each other and went on.\n\nNotwithstanding all their endeavours, their courage and\nperseverance, they could not reach the summit that day; night\ncame on, and prince Assad was so spent, that he stopped and said\nto Amgiad, \"Brother, I can go no farther, I am just dying.\" \"Let\nus rest ourselves,\" replied prince Amgiad, \"as long as you will,\nand have a good heart: it is but a little way to the top, and the\nmoon befriends us.\"\n\nThey rested about half an hour, and then Assad making a new\neffort, they ascended what remained of the way to the summit,\nwhere they both at last arrived, and lay down. Amgiad rose first,\nand advancing, saw a tree at a little distance. He went to it,\nand found it was a pomegranate, with large fruit upon it, and he\nperceived there was a spring at its foot: he ran to his brother\nAssad to tell him the good news, and conduct him to the tree by\nthe fountain side. Here they refreshed themselves by eating each\na pomegranate, after which they fell asleep.\n\nWhen they awoke the next morning, \"Come, brother,\" said Amgiad to\nAssad, \"let us go on; I see the mountain is easier to be\ntravelled over on this side than the other, all our way now is\ndown hill.\" But Assad was so tired with the preceding day's\nexertions, that he wanted three days' repose to recover himself.\n\nThey spent these days as they had done many before, in conversing\non their mothers' inordinate passion, which had reduced them to\nsuch a deplorable state: but, said they, \"Since heaven has so\nvisibly declared itself in our favour, we ought to bear our\nmisfortunes with patience, and comfort ourselves with hopes that\nwe shall see an end of them.\"\n\nAfter having rested three days, the two brothers continued their\ntravels. As the mountain on that side was composed of several\nshelves of extensive flat, they were five days in descending\nbefore they came into the plain. They then discovered a large\ncity, at which they rejoiced: \"Brother,\" said Amgiad to Assad,\n\"are not you of my opinion that you should stay in some place out\nof the city, where I may find you again, while I go and inform\nmyself what country we are in, and when I come back I will bring\nprovisions with me? It may not be safe for us to go there\ntogether.\"\n\n\"Brother,\" replied Assad, \"your plan is both safe and prudent,\nand I approve of what you say but if one of us must part from the\nother on that account, I will not suffer it shall be you; you\nmust allow me to go; for what shall I suffer, if any accident\nshould befall you?\"\n\n\"But, brother,\" answered Amgiad, \"the very accident you fear\nwould befall me, I have as much reason to fear would happen to\nyou: I entreat you to let me go, and do you remain here\npatiently.\" \"I will never consent to this,\" said Assad; \"if any\nill happen to me, it will be some comfort to think you are safe.\"\nAmgiad was forced to submit, and Assad going towards the city, he\nstayed under the trees at the foot of the mountain.\n\nPrince Assad took the purse of money which Amgiad had in charge,\nand went forwards towards the city. He had not proceeded far in\nthe first street, before he met with a reverend old man with a\ncane in his hand. He was neatly dressed, and the prince took him\nfor a man of note in the place, who would not put a trick upon\nhim, so he accosted him thus: \"Pray, my lord, which is the way to\nthe market-place?\" The old man looked at prince Assad smiling;\n\"Child,\" said he, \"it is plain you are a stranger, or you would\nnot have asked that question.\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord, I am a stranger,\" replied Assad. The old man\nanswered, \"You are welcome then; our country will be honoured by\nthe presence of so handsome a young man as you are: tell me what\nbusiness you have at the market-place.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Assad, \"it is near two months since my brother\nand I set out from our own country: we have not ceased\ntravelling, and we arrived here but to-day; my brother, tired\nwith such a long journey, stays at the foot of the mountain, and\nI am come to buy some provisions for him and myself.\"\n\n\"Son,\" said the old man, \"you could not have come in a better\ntime, and I am glad of it for your and your brother's sake. I\nmade a feast today for some friends of mine: come along with me;\nyou shall eat as much as you please; and when you have done, I\nwill give you enough to last your brother and yourself several\ndays. Do not spend your money, when there is no occasion;\ntravellers are always in want of it: while you are eating I will\ngive you an account of our city, which no one can do better than\nmyself, who have borne all the honourable offices in it. It is\nwell for you that you happen to light upon me; for I must tell\nyou, all our citizens cannot so well assist and inform you. I can\nassure you some of them are very wicked. Come, you shall see the\ndifference between a real honest man, as I am, and such as boast\nof being so, and are not.\"\n\n\"I am infinitely obliged to you,\" replied Assad, \"for your\nkindness; I put myself entirely into your hands, and am ready to\ngo with you where you please.\"\n\nThe old man, as he walked along by his side, laughed inwardly, to\nthink he had got the prince in his clutches; and all the way,\nlest he should perceive his dissimulation, talked of various\nsubjects, to preserve the favourable opinion Assad had of him.\nAmong other things, he said, \"It must be confessed you were very\nfortunate to have spoken to me, rather than to any one else: I\nthank God I met with you; you will know why, when you come to my\nhouse.\"\n\nAt length they arrived at the residence of the old man, who\nintroduced Assad into a hall, where there were forty such old\nfellows as himself, who made a circle round a flaming fire, which\nthey were adoring. The prince was not less struck with horror at\nthe sight of so many men mistakenly worshipping the creature for\nthe Creator, than he was with fear at finding himself betrayed\ninto so abominable a place.\n\nWhile the prince stood motionless with astonishment, the old\ncheat saluted the forty gray-headed men. \"Devout adorers of\nfire,\" said he to them, \"this is a happy day for us; where is\nGazban? call him.\"\n\nHe spake these words aloud, when a negro who waited at the lower\nend of the hall immediately came up to him. This black was\nGazban, who, as soon as he saw the disconsolate Assad, imagined\nfor what purpose he was called. He rushed upon him immediately,\nthrew him down, and bound his hands with wonderful activity. When\nhe had done, \"Carry him down,\" said the old man, \"and fail not to\norder my daughters, Bostama and Cavama, to give him every day a\nsevere bastinado, with only a loaf morning and night for his\nsubsistence; this is enough to keep him alive till the next ship\ndeparts for the blue sea and the fiery mountain, where he shall\nbe offered up an acceptable sacrifice to our divinity.\"\n\nAs soon as the old man had given the cruel order, Gazban hurried\nprince Assad under the hall, through several doors, till they\ncame to a dungeon, down to which led twenty steps; there he left\nhim in chains of prodigious weight and bigness, fastened to his\nfeet. When he had done, he went to give the old man's daughters\nnotice: but their father had before sent for them, and given them\ntheir instructions himself: \"Daughters,\" said he to them, \"go\ndown and give the Mussulmaun I just now brought in the bastinado:\ndo not spare him; you cannot better shew your zeal for the\nworship of the fire.\"\n\nBostama and Cavama, who were bred up in their hatred to the\nfaithful, received this order with joy. They descended into the\ndungeon that instant, stripped Assad, and bastinadoed him\nunmercifully, till the blood issued out of his wounds and he was\nalmost dead. After this cruel treatment, they put a loaf of bread\nand a pot of water by him, and retired.\n\nAssad did not come to himself again for a long time; when he\nrevived, he burst out into a flood of tears, deploring his\nmisery. His comfort however was, that this misfortune had not\nhappened to his brother.\n\nAmgiad waited for his brother till evening with impatience; as\ntwo, three, or four of the clock in the morning arrived, and\nAssad did not return, he was in despair. He spent the night in\nextreme uneasiness; and as soon as it was day went to the city,\nwhere he was surprised to see but very few Mussulmauns. He\naccosted the first he met, and asked him the name of the place.\nHe was told it was the city of the Magicians, so called from the\ngreat number of magicians, who adored the fire; and that it\ncontained but few Mussulmauns. Amgiad then demanded how far it\nwas to the isle of Ebene? He was answered, four months' voyage by\nsea, and a year's journey by land. The man he talked to left him\nhastily, having satisfied him as to these two questions.\n\nAmgiad, who had been but six weeks coming from the isle of Ebene\nwith his brother Assad, could not comprehend how they had reached\nthis city in so short a time, unless it was by enchantment, or\nthat the way across the mountain was a much shorter one, but not\nfrequented because of its difficulty.\n\nGoing farther into the town, he stopped at a tailor's shop, whom\nhe knew to be a Mussulmaun by his dress. Having saluted him, he\nsat down, and told him the occasion of the trouble he was in.\n\nWhen prince Amgiad had done talking, the tailor replied, \"If your\nbrother has fallen into the hands of some magicians, depend upon\nit you will never see him more. He is lost past all recovery; and\nI advise you to comfort yourself as well as you can, and to\nbeware of falling into the same misfortune: to which end, if you\nwill take my advice, you shall stay at my house, and I will tell\nyou all the tricks of these magicians, that you may take care of\nyourself, when you go out.\" Amgiad, afflicted for the loss of his\nbrother, accepted the tailor's offer and thanked him a thousand\ntimes for his kindness to him.\n\n\n\n\n    The Story of the Prince Amgiad and a Lady of the City of the\n                              Magicians.\n\n\n\nFor a whole month prince Amgiad never went out of the tailor's\nhouse without being accompanied by his host. At last he ventured\nto go alone to the bath. As he was returning home, he met a lady\non the way. Seeing a handsome young man, she lifted up her veil,\nasked him with a smiling air, and bewitching look, whither he was\ngoing? Amgiad was overpowered by her charms, and replied, \"Madam,\nI am going to my own house, or, if you please, I will go to\nyours.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" resumed the lady, with a smile, \"ladies of my quality\nnever take men to their houses, they always accompany them to\ntheirs.\"\n\nAmgiad was much perplexed by this unexpected reply. He durst not\nventure to take her home to his landlord's house, lest he should\ngive him offence, and thereby lose his protection, of which he\nhad so much need, in a city which required him to be always on\nhis guard. He knew so little of the town, that he could not tell\nwhere to convey her, and he could not make up his mind to suffer\nthe adventure to go unimproved. In this uncertainty, he\ndetermined to throw himself upon chance; and without making any\nanswer, went on, and the lady followed him. Amgiad led her from\nstreet to street, from square to square, till they were both\nweary with walking. At last they entered a street, at the end of\nwhich was a closed gateway leading to a handsome mansion. On each\nside of the gateway was a bench. Amgiad sat down on one of them,\nas if to take breath: and the lady, more weary than he, seated\nherself on the other.\n\nWhen she had taken her seat, she asked him, whether that was his\nhouse? \"You see it, madam,\" said Amgiad. \"Why do you not open the\ngate then,\" demanded the lady; \"what do you wait for?\" \"Fair\nlady,\" answered Amgiad, \"I have not the key; I left it with my\nslave, when I sent him on an errand, and he cannot be come back\nyet: besides, I ordered him afterwards to provide something good\nfor dinner; so that I am afraid we shall wait a long time for\nhim.\"\n\nThe prince, meeting with so many obstacles to the satisfying of\nhis passion, began to repent of having proceeded so far, and\ncontrived this answer, in hopes that the lady would take the\nhint, would leave him out of resentment, and seek elsewhere for a\nlover; but he was mistaken.\n\n\"This is a most impertinent slave,\" said the lady, \"to make us\nwait so long. I will chastise him myself as he deserves, if you\ndo not, when he comes back. It is not decent that I should sit\nhere alone with a man.\" Saying this, she arose, and took up a\nstone to break the lock, which was only of wood, and weak,\naccording to the fashion of the country.\n\nAmgiad gave himself over for a lost man, when he saw the door\nforced open. He paused to consider whether he should go into the\nhouse or make off as fast as he could, to avoid the danger which\nhe believed was inevitable; and he was going to fly when the lady\nreturned.\n\nSeeing he did not enter, she asked, \"Why do not you come into\nyour house?\" The prince answered, \"I am looking to see if my\nslave is coming, fearing we have nothing ready.\" \"Come in, come\nin,\" resumed she, \"we had better wait for him within doors than\nwithout.\"\n\nAmgiad, much against his will, followed her into the house.\nPassing through a spacious court, neatly paved, they ascended by\nseveral steps into a grand vestibule, which led to a large open\nhall very well furnished, where he and the lady found a table\nready spread with all sorts of delicacies, another heaped with\nfruit, and a sideboard covered with bottles of wine.\n\nWhen Amgiad beheld these preparations, he gave himself up for\nlost. \"Unfortunate Amgiad,\" said he to himself, \"thou wilt soon\nfollow thy dear brother Assad.\"\n\nThe lady, on the contrary, transported at the sight, exclaimed,\n\"How, my lord, did you fear there was nothing ready? You see your\nslave has done more than you expected. But, if I am not mistaken,\nthese preparations were made for some other lady, and not for me:\nno matter, let her come, I promise you I will not be jealous; I\nonly beg the favour of you to permit me to wait on her and you.\"\n\nAmgiad, greatly as he was troubled at this accident, could not\nhelp laughing at the lady's pleasantry. \"Madam,\" said he,\nthinking of something else that tormented his mind, \"there is\nnothing in what you imagine; this is my common dinner, and no\nextraordinary preparation, I assure you.\" As he could not bring\nhimself to sit down at a table which was not provided for him,\nhe would have taken his seat on a sofa, but the lady would not\npermit him. \"Come, sir,\" said she, \"you must be hungry after\nbathing, let us eat and enjoy ourselves.\"\n\nAmgiad was forced to comply: they both sat down, and began to\nregale themselves. After having taken a little, the lady took a\nbottle and glass, poured out some wine, and when she had drunk\nherself, filled another glass, and gave it to Amgiad, who pledged\nher. The more the prince reflected on this adventure, the more he\nwas amazed that the master of the house did not appear; and that\na mansion, so rich and well provided, should be left without a\nservant. \"It will be fortunate,\" said he to himself, \"if the\nmaster of the house do not return till I am got clear of this\nintrigue.\" While he was occupied with these thoughts, and others\nmore troublesome, she ate and drank heartily, and obliged him to\ndo the same. Just as they were proceeding to the dessert, the\nmaster of the house arrived.\n\nIt happened to be Bahader, master of the horse to the king of the\nmagicians. This mansion belonged to him, but he commonly resided\nin another; and seldom came to this, unless to regale himself\nwith two or three chosen friends He always sent provisions from\nhis other house on such occasions, and had done so this day by\nsome of his servants, who were just gone when the lady and Amgiad\nentered.\n\nBahader came as he used to do, in disguise, and without\nattendants, and a little before the time appointed for the\nassembling of his friends. He was not a little surprised to find\nthe door broken open; he entered, making no noise, and hearing\nsome persons talking and making merry in the hall, he stole along\nunder the wall, and put his head half way within the door to see\nwho they were.\n\nPerceiving a young man and a young lady eating at his table the\nvictuals that had been provided for his friends and himself, and\nthat there was no great harm done, he resolved to divert himself\nwith the adventure.\n\nThe lady's back was a little turned towards him, and she did not\nsee the master of the horse, but Amgiad perceived him\nimmediately. The glass was at the time in his hand, and he was\ngoing to drink; he changed colour at the sight of Bahader, who\nmade a sign to him not to say a word, but to come and speak to\nhim.\n\nAmgiad drank and rose: \"Where are you going?\" inquired the lady.\nThe prince answered, \"Pray, madam, stay here a little; I shall\nreturn directly.\" Bahader waited for him in the vestibule, and\nled him into the court to talk to him without being overheard by\nthe lady.\n\nWhen Bahader and Amgiad were in the court, Bahader demanded of\nthe prince, how the lady came into his house? and why they broke\nopen his door? \"My lord,\" replied Amgiad, \"you may very\nreasonably think me guilty of a very unwarrantable action: but if\nyou will have patience to hear me, I hope I shall convince you of\nmy innocence.\" He then related, in a few words, what had\nhappened, without disguising any part of the truth; and to shew\nhim that he was not capable of committing such an action as to\nbreak into a house, told him he was a prince, and informed him of\nthe reason of his coming to the city of the magicians.\n\nBahader, who was a good man, was pleased with an opportunity of\nobliging one of Amgiad's rank: for by his air, his actions, and\nhis well-turned conversation, he did not in the least doubt the\ntruth of what he had asserted. \"Prince,\" said Bahader, \"I am glad\nI can oblige you in so pleasant an adventure. Far from disturbing\nthe feast, it will gratify me to contribute to your satisfaction\nin any thing. Before I say any more on this subject, I must\ninform you my name is Bahader; I am master of the horse to the\nking of the magicians; I commonly reside in another house, which\nI have in the city, and come here sometimes to have the more\nliberty with my friends. You have made this lady believe you have\na slave, though you have none; I will personate that slave, and\nthat this may not make you uneasy, and to prevent your excuses, I\nrepeat again, that I will positively have it to be so; you will\nsoon know my reason. Go to your place, and continue to divert\nyourself. When I return again, and come to you in a slave's\nhabit, chide me for staying so long, do not be afraid even to\nstrike me. I will wait upon you while you are at table till\nnight; you shall sleep here, and so shall the lady, and to-morrow\nmorning you may send her home with honour. I shall afterwards\nendeavour to do you more important services: go, and lose no\ntime.\" Amgiad would have made him an answer, but the master of\nthe horse would not suffer him, forcing him to return to the\nlady. He had scarcely reentered the hall before Bahader's\nfriends, whom he had invited, arrived. Bahader excused himself\nfor not entertaining them that day, telling them they would\napprove of his reason when they should be informed of it, which\nthey should be in due time. When they were gone, he went and\ndressed himself in a slave's habit.\n\nPrince Amgiad returned to the lady much pleased at finding the\nhouse belonged to a man of quality, who had received him so\ncourteously. When he sat down again, he said, \"Madam, I beg a\nthousand pardons for my rudeness. I was vexed that my slave\nshould tarry so long; the rascal shall pay for it when he comes:\nI will teach him to make me wait so for him.\"\n\n\"Let not that trouble you,\" said the lady. \"The evil is his; if\nhe is guilty of any faults, let him pay for it: but do not let us\nthink of him, we will enjoy ourselves without him.\"\n\nThey continued at the table with the more pleasure, as Amgiad was\nunder no apprehensions of the consequence of the lady's\nindiscretion in breaking open the door. The prince was now as\nmerry as the lady: they said a thousand pleasant things, and\ndrank more than they ate, till Bahader arrived in his disguise.\n\nBahader entered like a slave who feared his master's displeasure\nfor staying out when he had company with him. He fell down at his\nfeet and kissed the ground, to implore his clemency; and when he\nhad done, stood behind him with his hands across, waiting his\ncommands.\n\n\"Sirrah,\" said Amgiad, with a fierce tone, and angry look, \"where\nhave you been? What have you been doing, that you came no\nsooner?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied Bahader, \"I ask your pardon; I was executing\nyour orders, and did not think you would return home so early.\"\n\n\"You are a rascal,\" said Amgiad, \"and I will break your bones, to\nteach you to lie, and disappoint me.\" He then rose up, took a\nstick, and gave him two or three slight blows; after which he sat\ndown again.\n\nThe lady was not satisfied with this chastisement. She also rose,\ntook the stick, and fell upon Bahader so unmercifully, that the\ntears came into his eyes. Amgiad, offended to the last degree at\nthe freedom she took, and that she should use one of the king's\nchief officers so ill, called out to her in vain to forbear. \"Let\nme alone,\" said she \"I will give him enough, and teach him to be\nabsent so long another time.\" She continued beating him with\ngreat fury, till Amgiad rose from the table, and forced the stick\nout of her hand which she did not relinquish without much\nstruggling. When she found she could beat Bahader no longer, she\nsat down, railed at and cursed him.\n\nBahader wiped his eyes, and stood up to fill out wine When he saw\nthey had done eating and drinking, he took away the cloth,\ncleared the hall, put every thing in its place; and night coming\non, lighted up the lamps. Every time he came in, or went out, the\nlady muttered, threatened him, and gave him abusive language, to\nAmgiad's great regret, who would have hindered her, but could\nnot. When it was time for them to retire to bed, Bahader prepared\none for them on the sofa, and withdrew into a chamber, where he\nlaid himself down, and soon fell asleep, having been fatigued\nwith his beating. Amgiad and the lady entertained one another for\nsome time afterwards. The lady before she went to bed having\noccasion to go to another part of the house, passing through the\nvestibule, heard Bahader snore, and having seen a sabre hanging\nup in the hall, turned back, and said to Amgiad, \"My lord, as you\nlove me, do one thing for me.\" \"In what can I serve you?\" asked\nthe prince. \"Oblige me so far as to take down this sabre and cut\noff your slave's head.\" Amgiad was astonished at such a proposal\nfrom a lady, and made no doubt but it was the wine she had drunk\nthat induced her to make it. \"Madam,\" said he, \"let us suffer him\nto rest, he is not worthy of your farther notice: I have beaten\nhim, and you have beaten him: that ought to be sufficient;\nbesides, I am in other respects well satisfied with him.\"\n\n\"That shall not satisfy me,\" replied the lady, in a violent\npassion; \"the rascal shall die, if not by your hands, by mine.\"\nAs she spoke, she took down the sabre from the place where it\nhung, drew it out of the scabbard, and prepared to execute her\nwicked design.\n\nAmgiad met her in the vestibule, saying, \"You shall be satisfied,\nmadam, since you will have it so; but I should be sorry that any\none besides myself should kill my slave.\" When she had given him\nthe sabre, \"Come, follow me,\" said he; \"make no noise, lest we\nshould awaken him.\" They went into Bahader's chamber, where\nAmgiad, instead of striking him, aimed his blow at the lady, and\ncut off her head, which fell upon Bahader.\n\nBahader was awakened by the head of the lady falling upon him. He\nwas amazed to see Amgiad standing by him with a bloody sabre, and\nthe body of the lady lying headless on the ground. The prince\ntold him what had passed, and said, \"I had no other way to\nprevent this furious woman from killing you, but to take away her\nlife.\" \"My lord,\" replied Bahader, full of gratitude, \"persons of\nyour rank and generosity are incapable of doing such a wicked\naction: as she desired of you. You are my deliverer, and I cannot\nsufficiently thank you.\" After having embraced him, to evince the\nsense he entertained of his obligations to him, he said, \"We must\ncarry this corpse out before it is quite day; leave it to me, I\nwill do it.\" Amgiad would not consent to this, saying, \"He would\ncarry it away himself, since he had struck the blow.\" Bahader\nreplied, \"You are a stranger in this city, and cannot do it so\nwell as one who is acquainted with the place. I must do it, if\nfor no other reason, yet for the safety of both of us, to prevent\nour being questioned about her death. Remain you here, and if I\ndo not return before day, you may be sure the watch has seized\nme; and for fear of the worst, I will by writing give this house\nand furniture for your habitation.\"\n\nWhen he had written, signed, and delivered the paper to prince\nAmgiad, he put the lady's body in a bag, head and all; laid it on\nhis shoulder, and went out with it from one street to another,\ntaking the way to the sea-side. He had not proceeded far before\nhe met one of the judges of the city, who was going the rounds in\nperson. Bahader was stopped by the judge's followers, who,\nopening the bag, found the body of a murdered lady, bundled up\nwith the head. The judge, who knew the master of the horse\nnotwithstanding his disguise, took him home to his house, and not\ndaring to put him to death without telling the king, on account\nof his rank, carried him to court as soon as it was day. When the\nking had been informed by the judge of the crime Bahader had, as\nhe believed from the circumstances, committed, he addressed\nhimself to the master of the horse as follows: \"It is thus then\nthat thou murderess my subjects, to rob them, and then wouldst\nthrow their dead bodies into the sea, to hide thy villainy? Let\nus get rid of him; execute him immediately.\"\n\nInnocent as Bahader was, he received sentence of death with\nresignation, and said not a word in his justification. The judge\ncarried him to his house, and while the pale was preparing, sent\na crier to publish throughout the city, that at noon the master\nof the horse was to be impaled for a murder.\n\nPrince Amgiad, who had in vain expected Bahader's return, was\nstruck with consternation when he heard the crier publish the\napproaching execution of the master of the horse. \"If,\" said he\nto himself, \"any one ought to die for the murder of such a wicked\nwoman, it is I, and not Bahader; I will never suffer an innocent\nman to be punished for the guilty.\" Without deliberating, he then\nhastened to the place of execution, whither the people were\nrunning from all parts.\n\nWhen Amgiad saw the judge bringing Bahader to the pale, he went\nup to him, and said, \"I am come to assure you, that the master of\nthe horse, whom you are leading to execution, is wholly innocent\nof the lady's death; I alone am guilty of the crime, if it be\none, to have killed a detestable woman, who would have murdered\nBahader.\" He then related to him how it had happened.\n\nThe prince having informed the judge of the manner in which he\nhad met her coming from the bath; how she had occasioned his\ngoing into the master of the horse's pleasure-house, and all that\nhad passed to the moment in which he was forced to cut off her\nhead, to save Bahader's life; the judge ordered execution to be\nstopped, and conducted Amgiad to the king, taking the master of\nthe horse with them.\n\nThe king wished to hear the story from Amgiad himself; and the\nprince, the better to prove his own innocence and that of the\nmaster of the horse, embraced the opportunity to discover who he\nwas, and what had driven him and his brother Assad to that city,\nwith all the accidents that had befallen them, from their\ndeparture from the Isle of Ebene.\n\nThe prince having finished his account, the king said to him, \"I\nrejoice that I have by this means been made acquainted with you;\nI not only give you your own life, and that of my master of the\nhorse, whom I commend for his kindness to you, but I restore him\nto his office; and as for you, prince, I declare you my grand\nvizier, to make amends for your father's unjust usage, though it\nis also excusable, and I permit you to employ all the authority\nwith which I now invest you to find out prince Assad.\"\n\nAmgiad having thanked the king for the honour he had done him, on\ntaking possession of his office of grand vizier used every\npossible means to find out the prince his brother. He ordered the\ncommon criers to promise a great reward to any who should\ndiscover him, or give any tidings of him. He sent men up and down\nthe country to the same purpose; but in vain.\n\nAssad in the meanwhile continued in the dungeon in chains;\nBostama and Cavama, the cunning old conjuror's daughters,\ntreating him daily with the same cruelty and inhumanity as at\nfirst.\n\nThe solemn festival of the adorers of fire approached; and a ship\nwas fitted out for the fiery mountain as usual: the captain's\nname was Behram, a great bigot to his religion. He loaded it with\nproper merchandize; and when it was ready to sail, put Assad in a\nchest, which was half full of goods, a few crevices being left\nbetween the boards to give him air.\n\nBefore the ship sailed, the grand vizier Amgiad, who had been\ntold that the adorers of fire used to sacrifice a Mussulmaun\nevery year on the fiery mountain, suspecting that Assad might\nhave fallen into their hands, and be designed for a victim,\nresolved to search the ship in person. He ordered all the\npassengers and seamen to be brought upon deck, and commanded his\nmen to search all over the ship, which they did, but Assad could\nnot be found, he was so well concealed.\n\nWhen the grand vizier had done searching the vessel, she sailed.\nAs soon as Behram was got out to sea, he ordered prince Assad to\nbe taken out of the chest, and fettered, to secure him, lest he\nshould throw himself into the sea in despair since he knew he was\ngoing to be sacrificed.\n\nThe wind was very favourable for a few days, after which there\narose a furious storm. The vessel was driven out of her course,\nso that neither Behram nor his pilot knew where they were. They\nwere afraid of being wrecked on the rocks, for in the violence of\nthe storm they discovered land, and a dangerous shoal before\nthem. Behram perceived that he was driven into the port and\ncapital of queen Margiana, which occasioned him great\nmortification.\n\nThis queen Margiana was a devout professor of the Mahummedan\nfaith, and a mortal enemy to the adorers of fire. She had\nbanished all of them out of her dominions, and would not suffer\ntheir ships to touch at her ports.\n\nIt was no longer in the power of Behram to avoid putting into the\nharbour, for he had no alternative but to be dashed to pieces\nagainst the frightful rocks that lay off the shore. In this\nextremity he held a council with his pilot and seamen. \"My lads,\"\nsaid he, \"you see to what a necessity we are reduced. We must\nchoose one of two things; either to resolve to be swallowed up by\nthe waves, or put into queen Margiana's port, whose hatred to all\npersons of our religion you well know. She will certainly seize\nour vessel and put us all to death, without mercy. I see but one\nway to escape her, which is, to take off the fetters from the\nMussulmaun we have aboard, and dress him like a slave. When queen\nMargiana commands me to come before her, and asks what trade I\nfollow, I will tell her I deal in slaves; that I have sold all I\nhad, but one, whom I keep to be my clerk, because he can read and\nwrite. She will by this means see him, and he being handsome, and\nof her own religion, will have pity on him. No doubt she will\nthen ask to buy him of me, and on this account will let us stay\nin the port till the weather is fair. If any of you have any\nthing else to propose that will be preferable, I am ready to\nattend to it.\" The pilot and seamen applauded his judgment, and\nagreed to follow his advice.\n\nBehram commanded prince Assad's chains to be taken off, and had\nhim neatly habited like a slave, as became one who was to pass\nfor his clerk before the queen of the country. They had scarcely\ntime to do this, before the ship drove into the port, and dropped\nanchor.\n\nQueen Margiana's palace was so near the sea, that her garden\nextended down to the shore. She saw the ship anchor, and sent to\nthe captain to come to her, and the sooner to satisfy her\ncuriosity waited for him in her garden.\n\nBehram landed with prince Assad, whom he required to confirm what\nhe had said of his being a slave, and his clerk. When he was\nintroduced to the queen, he threw himself at her feet, and\ninformed her of the necessity he was under to put into her port:\nthat he dealt in slaves, and had sold all he had but one, who was\nAssad, whom he kept for his clerk.\n\nThe queen was taken with Assad from the moment she first saw him,\nand was extremely glad to hear that he was a slave; resolving to\nbuy him, cost what he would. She asked Assad what was his name.\n\n\"Great queen,\" he replied, with tears in his eyes, \"does your\nmajesty ask what my name was formerly, or what it is now?\" The\nqueen answered, \"Have you two names then?\" \"Alas! I have,\" said\nAssad: \"I was once called Assad (most happy); and now my name is\nMotar\" (devoted to be sacrificed).\n\nMargiana not being able to comprehend the meaning of his answer,\ninterpreted it to refer to his condition of a slave. \"Since you\nare clerk to the captain,\" said she, \"no doubt you can write\nwell; let me see your hand.\"\n\nBehram had furnished Assad with pen, ink, and paper, as a token\nof his office, that the queen might take him for what he designed\nshe should.\n\nThe prince stepped a little aside, and wrote as follows, suitable\nto his wretched circumstances:\n\n\"The blind man avoids the ditch into which the clear-sighted\nfalls. Fools advance themselves to honours, by discourses which\nsignify nothing, while men of sense and eloquence live in poverty\nand contempt. The Mussulmaun with all his riches is miserable.\nThe infidel triumphs. We cannot hope things will be otherwise.\nThe Almighty has decreed it shall be so.\"\n\nAssad presented the paper to queen Margiana, who admired alike\nthe moral of the sentences, and the goodness of the writing. She\nneeded no more to have her heart inflamed, and to feel a sincere\nconcern for his misfortunes. She had no sooner read the lines,\nthan she addressed herself to Behram, saying, \"Do which you will,\neither sell me this slave, or make me a present of him; perhaps\nit will turn most to your account to do the latter.\"\n\nBehram answered insolently, that he could neither give nor sell\nhim; that he wanted his slave, and would keep him.\n\nQueen Margiana, provoked at his rudeness, would not talk to him\nany more on the subject. She took the prince by the arm, and\nturned him before her to the palace, sending Behram word, that if\nhe stayed the night in her port, she would confiscate his goods,\nand burn his ship. He was therefore forced to return to his\nvessel, and prepare to put to sea again, notwithstanding the\ntempest had not yet subsided.\n\nQueen Margiana, on entering her palace, commanded supper to be\ngot ready; and while it was providing, she ordered Assad to be\nbrought into her apartment, where she bade him sit down. Assad\nwould have excused himself: \"It becomes not a slave,\" said he,\n\"to presume to this honour.\"\n\n\"To a slave!\" replied the queen: \"you were so a moment ago;\nhenceforward you are no more a slave. Sit down near me, and tell\nme the story of your life; for by what you wrote, and the\ninsolence of that slave-merchant, I guess there is something\nextraordinary in your history.\"\n\nPrince Assad obeyed her; and sitting down, began thus: \"Mighty\nqueen, your majesty is not mistaken, in thinking there is\nsomething extraordinary in the story of my life: it is indeed\nmore so than you can imagine. The ills, the incredible torments I\nhave suffered, and the death to which I was devoted, and from\nwhich I am delivered by your royal generosity, will shew the\ngreatness of my obligation to you, never to be forgotten. But\nbefore I enter into particulars of my miseries, which will strike\nhorror into the hearts of all that hear them, I must trace the\norigin of them to its source.\"\n\nThis preamble increased queen Margiana's curiosity. The prince\nthen told her of his royal birth; of his brother Amgiad, and\ntheir mutual friendship; of their mothers' criminal passion, the\ncause of all their sufferings; of the king his father's rage; how\nmiraculously their lives were saved; how he had lost his brother;\nhow he had been long imprisoned and tortured, and was devoted to\nbe sacrificed on the fiery mountain.\n\nWhen Assad had finished his recital' the queen was more than ever\nenraged at the adorers of fire. \"Prince,\" said she, \"though I\nhave always had an aversion to the adorers of fire, yet hitherto\nI have had some humanity for them: but after their barbarous\nusage of you, and their execrable design to sacrifice you, I will\nhenceforth wage perpetual war against them.\"\n\nShe was proceeding, but supper being served in, she made prince\nAssad sit down at table with her, being charmed with his beauty\nand eloquence, and touched with a passion which she hoped soon to\nhave an opportunity of making known to him \"Prince,\" said she,\n\"we must make you amends for so many fasts and wretched meals, to\nwhich the pitiless adorers of fire made you submit; you must want\nnourishment after such sufferings.\" With conversation of this\nkind she helped him at supper; and ordered him to drink a good\ndeal of wine to recover his spirits; by which means he drank more\nthan he could well bear.\n\nThe cloth being taken away, Assad having occasion to go out, took\nan opportunity when the queen did not observe him. He descended\ninto the court, and seeing the garden-door open, went into it.\nBeing tempted by the pleasantness of the place, he walked there\nfor some time. At last he came to a fountain, where he washed his\nface and hands to refresh himself, and lying down on the turf by\nthe fountain, fell asleep.\n\nBehram, to prevent the queen from executing her threats, had\nweighed anchor, vexed at the loss of Assad, by which he was\ndisappointed of a most acceptable sacrifice. He comforted himself\nas well as he could, with the thoughts that the storm was over,\nand that a land breeze favoured his getting off the coast. As\nsoon as he was towed out of the port by the help of his boat,\nbefore it was hoisted up into the ship again, \"Stop, my lads,\"\nsaid he to the seamen, \"do not come on board yet; I will give you\nsome casks to fill with water, and wait for you.\" Behram had\nobserved, while he was talking to the queen in the garden, that\nthere was a fountain at the end of it, near the port. \"Go,\" said\nhe, \"land before the palace-garden; the wall is not above breast\nhigh, you may easily get over; there is a basin in the middle of\nthe garden, where you may fill all your barrels, and hand them\naboard without difficulty.\"\n\nThe sailors went ashore at the place he directed them to, and\nlaying their casks on their shoulders easily got over the wall.\n\nAs they approached the basin, they perceived a man sleeping on\nthe grass, and knew him to be Assad. They immediately divided\nthemselves; and while some of the crew filled their barrels with\nas little noise as possible, others surrounded Assad, and watched\nto seize him if he should awake.\n\nHe slept on undisturbed, giving them time to fill all their\ncasks; which they afterwards handed over the wall to others of\nthe crew who waited to carry them aboard.\n\nThey next seized Assad, and conveyed him away, without giving him\ntime to recollect himself. They got him over the wall into their\nboat with the casks, and rowed to the ship. When they drew near\nher they cried out for joy, \"Captain, sound your trumpets, beat\nyour drums, we have brought you your slave.\"\n\nBehram, who could not imagine how the seamen could find and take\nhim again, and did not see Assad in the boat, it being night,\nwaited their arrival with impatience, to ask what they meant; but\nwhen he saw him, he could not contain himself for joy. He\ncommanded him to be chained, without staying to inquire how they\ncame by him; and having hoisted the boat on board, set sail for\nthe fiery mountain.\n\nIn the meanwhile queen Margiana was in alarm. She was not at\nfirst apprehensive when she found prince Assad was gone out,\nbecause she did not doubt but he would soon return When some time\nhad passed without his appearing, she began to be uneasy, and\ncommanded her women to look for him. They sought for him in every\ndirection, and at night renewed their search by torch-light, but\nall to no purpose.\n\nQueen Margiana was so impatient and alarmed, that she went\nherself with lights, and finding the garden-door open, entered,\nand walked all over it with her women to seek for him. Passing by\nthe fountain and basin, she espied a slipper, which she took up,\nand knew it to be prince Assad's, her women also recognized it to\nbe his. This circumstance, together with the water being spilt\nabout the edge of the basin, induced her to believe that Behram\nhad carried him off. She sent immediately to see if he was still\nin the port; and hearing he had sailed a little before it was\ndark, that he lay-to some time off the shore, while he sent his\nboat for water from the fountain, she sent word to the commander\nof ten ships of war, which lay always ready in the harbour, to\nsail on the shortest notice, that she would embark herself next\nmorning as soon as it was day. The commander lost no time,\nordered the captains, seamen and soldiers aboard, and was ready\nto sail at the time appointed. She embarked, and when the\nsquadron was at sea, told the commander her intention. \"Make all\nthe sail you can,\" said she, \"and chase the merchantman that\nsailed last night out of this port. If you capture it, I assign\nit to you as your property; but if you fail, your life shall\nanswer.\"\n\nThe ten ships chased Behram's vessel two whole days without\nseeing her. The third day in the morning they discovered her, and\nat noon had so surrounded her, that she could not escape.\n\nAs soon as Behram espied the ten ships of war, he made sure it\nwas queen Margiana's squadron in pursuit of him; and upon that he\nordered Assad to be bastinadoed, which he had done every day. He\nwas much perplexed what to do, when he found he was surrounded.\nTo keep Assad, was to declare himself guilty; to kill him was as\ndangerous, for he feared some marks of the murder might be seen.\nHe therefore commanded him to be unfettered and brought from the\nbottom of the hold where he lay. When he came before him, \"It is\nthou,\" said he, \"that art the cause of my being pursued;\" and so\nsaying, he flung him into the sea.\n\nPrince Assad being an expert swimmer, made such good use of his\nfeet and hands, that he reached the shore in safety. The first\nthing he did after he had landed, was to thank God who had\ndelivered him from so great a danger, and once more rescued him\nout of the hands of the adorers of fire. He then stripped\nhimself, and wringing the water out of his clothes, spread them\non a rock, where, by the heat of the sun, and of the rock, they\nsoon dried. After this he lay down to rest himself, deploring his\nmiserable condition, not knowing in what country he was nor which\nway to direct his course. He dressed himself again and walked on,\nkeeping as near the sea-side as he could. At last he entered a\nkind of path, which he followed, and travelled on ten days\nthrough an uninhabited country, living on herbs, plants, and wild\nfruits. At last he approached a city, which he recognized to be\nthat of the magicians, where he had been so ill used and where\nhis brother Amgiad was grand vizier.\n\nHe rejoiced to discover where he was, but resolved not to\napproach any of the adorers of fire, and to converse only with\nMoosulmauns, for he remembered he had seen some the first time he\nentered the town. It being late, and knowing the shops were\nalready shut, and few people in the streets, he resolved to\nremain in a burying ground near the city, where there were\nseveral tombs built in the form of mausoleums. He found the door\nof one of them open, which he entered, designing to pass the\nnight there.\n\nWe must now return to Behram's ship, which, after he had thrown\nprince Assad overboard, was soon surrounded on all sides by queen\nMargiana's squadron. The ship in which queen Margiana was in\nperson first came up with him, and Behram, being in no condition\nof defence against so many, furled his sails as a mark of his\nsubmission.\n\nThe queen herself boarded his ship, and demanded where the clerk\nwas, whom he had the boldness to take or cause to be taken out of\nher palace. Behram replied, \"O queen! I swear by your majesty, he\nis not in my ship; you will, by searching, be convinced of my\ninnocence.\"\n\nMargiana ordered the ship to be searched as narrowly as possible,\nbut she could not find the man, whom she so much wished to\nrecover, as well on account of her love for him, as of the\ngenerosity for which she was distinguished. She once resolved to\nkill Behram with her own hand, but refrained, and contented\nherself with seizing his ship and cargo, and turning him and his\nmen on shore in their boat.\n\nBehram and his seamen arrived at the city of the magicians the\nsame night as Assad, and stopped at the same burying-ground, the\ncity gates being shut, intending to stay in some tomb till the\nnext day, when they should be opened again.\n\nTo Assad's misfortune, Behram came to that in which the prince\nwas sleeping with his head wrapped up in his habit, and entered\nit. Assad awoke at the noise of his footsteps, and demanded who\nwas there.\n\nBehram immediately recognized him. \"Hah, hah,\" said he, \"thou art\nthe man who has ruined me for ever; thou hast escaped being\nsacrificed this year, but depend on it thou shalt not be so\nfortunate the next.\" Saying this, he flew upon him, clapped his\nhandkerchief into his mouth to prevent his making a noise, and\nwith the assistance of his seamen bound him.\n\nThe next morning as soon as the city gates were open, Behram and\nhis men easily carried Assad through streets, where no one was\nyet stirring, to the old man's house, where he had been so\ninhumanly treated. As soon as he was brought in, he was again\nthrown into the same dungeon. Behram acquainted the old man with\nthe unfortunate circumstances of his return, and the ill success\nof his voyage. The old savage, upon this, commanded his two\ndaughters Bostama and Cavama to treat him, if possible, more\ncruelly than before.\n\nAssad was overwhelmed with terror at seeing himself again in the\nhands of persecutors from whom he had suffered so much, and\nexpected the repetition of the torments from which he hoped that\nhe had been delivered. He was lamenting the severity of his fate,\nwhen Bostama entered with a stick in her hand, a loaf and a\npitcher of water. He trembled at the sight of this unmerciful\nwretch, and at the very thoughts of the sufferings he was to\nendure for another year, at the conclusion of which he was to die\nthe most horrible death.\n\nBostama treated prince Assad as inhumanly as she had done during\nhis first confinement. But his cries, lamentations, and earnest\nentreaties to her to spare him, joined with his tears, were so\naffecting, that she could not help shedding tears. \"My lord,\"\nsaid she, covering his shoulders again, \"I ask a thousand pardons\nfor my inhuman treatment of you formerly, and for making you once\nmore feel its effect. Till now I was afraid of disobeying a\nfather, who is unjustly enraged against you, and resolved on your\ndestruction, but at last I abhor this barbarity. Be comforted,\nyour evil days are over. I will endeavour by better treatment to\nmake amends for all my crimes, of the enormity of which you will\nfind I am duly sensible. You have hitherto regarded me as an\ninfidel; henceforth believe me one of your own religion; having\nbeen taught it by a slave, I hope your lessons will complete my\nconversion. To convince you of my sincerity, I first beg pardon\nof the true God for all my sins, in dealing so cruelly by you,\nand I trust he will put it in my power to set you entirely at\nliberty.\"\n\nThis address afforded the prince much comfort. He thanked the\nAlmighty for the change wrought in her heart, He also thanked her\nfor her favourable disposition towards him, and omitted no\narguments which he thought would have any effect in confirming\nher conversion to the Moosulmaun religion. He afterwards related\nto her the whole story of his life to that time. When he was\nfully assured of her good intentions respecting him, he asked her\nhow she could continue to keep her sister Cavama in ignorance of\nthem; and prevent her treating him as barbarously as she used to\ndo? \"Let not that trouble you,\" replied Bostama; \"I know how to\norder matters so that she shall never come near you.\"\n\nShe accordingly every day prevented her sister's coming down into\nthe dungeon, where she often visited the prince. Instead of\ncarrying him bread and water, she now brought him the best wine\nand the choicest victuals she could procure, which were prepared\nby her twelve Mahommedan slaves. She ate with him herself from\ntime to time, and did all in her power to alleviate his\nmisfortunes.\n\nA few days afterwards, Bostama, as she stood at her father's\ndoor, observed the public crier making proclamation, but she\ncould not hear what it was about, being too far off. As he was\nproceeding in the direction of her father's house, she went in,\nand holding the door half open, perceived that he went before the\ngrand vizier Amgiad, brother to Assad; who was accompanied by\nseveral officers, and other attendants.\n\nThe crier, a few steps from the house, repeated the proclamation\nwith a loud voice, as follows: \"The most excellent and\nillustrious grand vizier is come in person to seek for his dear\nbrother, from whom he was separated about a year ago. He is a\nyoung man of such an appearance; if any one has him in keeping,\nor knows where he is, his excellency commands that they bring him\nforth, or give him notice where to find him, promising a great\nreward to the person that shall give the information. If any one\nconceal him, and he be hereafter found, his excellency declares'\nhe shall be punished with death, together with his wife,\nchildren, and all his family, and his house to be razed to the\nground.\"\n\nBostama, as soon as she had heard this, shut the door as fast as\nshe could, and ran to Assad in the dungeon. \"Prince,\" said she,\nwith joy, \"your troubles are at an end; follow me immediately.\"\nShe had taken off his fetters the day he was brought in, and the\nprince followed her into the street, where she cried, \"There he\nis, there he is!\"\n\nThe grand vizier, who was not far from the house, returned. Assad\nknew him to be his brother, ran to him, and embraced him. Amgiad,\nwho immediately recollected him, returned his embrace with all\npossible tenderness; made him mount one of his officers' horses,\nwho alighted for that purpose; and conducted him in triumph to\nthe palace, where he presented him to the king, by whom he was\nadvanced to the post of a vizier.\n\nBostama not wishing to return to her father's house, which was\nthe next day razed to the ground, was sent to the queen's\napartments.\n\nThe old man her father, Behram, and all their families were\nbrought before the king, who condemned them to be beheaded. They\nthrew themselves at his feet, and implored his mercy. \"There is\nno mercy for you to expect,\" said the king, \"unless you renounce\nthe adoration of fire, and profess the Mahummedan religion.\"\n\nThey accepted the condition, and were pardoned at the\nintercession of Assad, in consideration of Bostama's friendship;\nfor whose sake Cavama's life, and the lives of the rest of their\nfamilies were saved.\n\nAmgiad, in consideration of Behram turning Mussulmaun, and to\ncompensate for the loss which he had suffered before he deserved\nhis favour, made him one of his principal officers, and lodged\nhim in his house. Behram, being informed of Amgiad and his\nbrother Assad's story, proposed to his benefactor, to fit out a\nvessel to convey them to their father's court: \"For,\" said he,\n\"the king must certainly have heard of your innocence, and\nimpatiently desire to see you: otherwise we can easily inform him\nof the truth before we land, and if he is still in the same mind,\nyou can but return.\"\n\nThe two brothers accepted the proposal, communicated it to the\nking of the city of the magicians, who approved of it; and\ncommanded a ship to be equipped. Behram undertook the employment\ncheerfully, and soon got in readiness to sail. The two princes,\nwhen they understood the ship was ready, waited upon the king to\ntake leave. While they were making their compliments, and\nthanking the king for his favours, they were interrupted by a\ngreat tumult in the city: and presently an officer came to give\nthem notice that a numerous army was advancing against the city,\nnobody knowing who they were, or whence they had come.\n\nThe king being alarmed at the intelligence, Amgiad addressed him\nthus: \"Sir, though I have just resigned into your majesty's hands\nthe dignity of your first minister, with which you were pleased\nto honour me, I am ready to do you all the service in my power. I\ndesire therefore that you would be pleased to let me go and see\nwho this enemy is, that comes to attack you in your capital,\nwithout having first declared war.\"\n\nThe king desired him to do so. Amgiad departed immediately, with\na very small retinue, to see what enemy approached, and what was\nthe reason of their coming.\n\nIt was not long before prince Amgiad descried the army, which\nappeared very formidable, and which approached nearer and nearer.\nThe advanced guards received him favourably, and conducted him to\na princess, who stopped, and commanded her army to halt, while\nshe talked with the prince; who, bowing profoundly to her,\ndemanded if she came as a friend or an enemy: if as an enemy,\nwhat cause of complaint she had against the king his master?\n\n\"I come as a friend,\" replied the princess, \"and have no cause of\ncomplaint against the king of the city of the magicians. His\nterritories and mine are so situated, that it is almost\nimpossible for us to have any dispute. I only come to require a\nslave named Assad, to be delivered up to me. He was carried away\nby one Behram, a captain of a ship belonging to this city, the\nmost insolent man in the world. I hope your king will do me\njustice, when he knows I am Margiana.\"\n\nThe prince answered, \"Mighty queen, the slave whom you take so\nmuch pains to seek is my brother: I lost him, and have found him\nagain. Come, and I will deliver him up to you myself; and will do\nmyself the honour to tell you the rest of the story: the king my\nmaster will rejoice to see you.\"\n\nThe queen ordered her army to pitch their tents, and encamp where\nthey were; and accompanied prince Amgiad to the city and palace,\nwhere he presented her to the king; who received her in a manner\nbecoming her dignity. Assad, who was present, and knew her as\nsoon as he saw her, also paid his respects to her. She appeared\ngreatly rejoiced to see him. While they were thus engaged,\ntidings came, that an army more powerful than the former\napproached on the other side of the city.\n\nThe king of the magicians was more terrified than before,\nunderstanding the second army was more numerous than the first,\nfor he saw this by the clouds of dust they raised, which hid the\nface of the heavens. \"Amgiad,\" cried he, \"what shall we do now? a\nnew army comes to destroy us.\" Amgiad guessed what the king\nmeant; he mounted on horseback again, and galloped towards the\nsecond army. He demanded of the advanced guards to speak with\ntheir general, and they conducted him to their king. When he drew\nnear him, he alighted, prostrated himself to the ground, and\nasked what he required of the king his master.\n\nThe monarch replied, \"I am Gaiour, king of China; my desire to\nlearn tidings of a daughter, whose name is Badoura, whom I\nmarried to Kummir al Zummaun, son of Shaw Zummaun, king of the\nisles of the children of Khaledan, obliged me to leave my\ndominions. I suffered that prince to go to see his father, on\ncondition that he came back in a year with my daughter; from that\ntime I have heard nothing of them. Your king will lay an infinite\nobligation on an afflicted father, by telling him if he knows\nwhat is become of them.\"\n\nPrince Amgiad, perceiving by his discourse that the king was his\ngrandfather, kissed his hand with tenderness, and answered him\nthus: \"I hope your majesty will pardon my freedom, when you know\nthat I only pay my duty to my grandfather. I am the son of Kummir\nal Zummaun, king of the isle of Ebene, and of queen Badoura, for\nwhom you are thus troubled; and I doubt not but they are both in\ngood health in their kingdom.\"\n\nThe king of China, overjoyed to see his grandson, tenderly\nembraced him. Such a meeting, so happy and unexpected, drew tears\nfrom both. The king inquiring on what occasion he had come into a\nstrange country, the prince told him all that had happened to him\nand his brother Assad. When he had finished his relation, \"My\nson,\" replied the king of China, \"it is not just that such\ninnocent princes as you are should be longer ill used. Comfort\nyourself, I will carry you and your brother home, and make your\npeace. Return, and acquaint your brother with my arrival.\"\n\nWhile the king of China encamped in the place where prince Amgiad\nmet him, the prince returned to inform the king of the magicians,\nwho waited for him impatiently, how he had succeeded.\n\nThe king was astonished that so mighty a king as that of China\nshould undertake such a long and troublesome journey, out of a\ndesire to see his daughter. He gave orders to make preparations\nfor his reception, and went forth to meet him.\n\nWhile these things were transacting, a great dust was seen on\nanother side of the town; and suddenly news was brought of the\narrival of a third army, which obliged the king to stop, and to\ndesire prince Amgiad once more to see who they were, and on what\naccount they came.\n\nAmgiad went accordingly, and prince Assad accompanied him. They\nfound it was Kummir al Zummaun their father's army, with whom he\nwas coming to seek for them. He was so grieved for the loss of\nhis sons, that at last emir Jehaun-dar declared that he had saved\ntheir lives, which made him resolve to seek for them wherever he\nwas likely to find them.\n\nThe afflicted father embraced the two princes with tears of joy, which\nput an end to those he had a long time shed for grief. The princes had\nno sooner told him the king of China, his father-in-law, was arrived,\nthan, accompanied by them and a small party, he rode to wait upon him\nin his camp. They had not gone far, before they saw a fourth army\nadvancing in good order, which seemed to come from Persia.\n\nKummir al Zummaun desired the two princes to go and see what army\nit was, and he would in the meanwhile wait for them. They\ndeparted immediately, and coming up to it, were presented to the\nking to whom the army belonged; and, after having saluted him\nwith due reverence, they demanded on what design he approached so\nnear the king of the magicians' capital. The grand vizier, who\nwas present, answered in the name of the king his master, \"The\nmonarch to whom you speak is Shaw Zummaun, king of the isles of\nthe children of Khaledan, who has a longtime travelled, thus\nattended, to seek his son, who left his dominions many years ago:\nif you know any thing of him, you cannot oblige him more than by\ncommunicating to him all the information in your power.\"\n\nThe princes only replied, that they would shortly bring him an\nanswer, and galloping back as fast as they could, told Kummir al\nZummaun that the king his father was approaching with his army.\n\nWonder, surprise, joy, and grief, had such an effect on Kummir al\nZummaun, that he fainted as soon as he heard he was so near.\nPrince Amgiad and prince Assad, by their assiduities, at length\nbrought him to himself; and when he had recovered his strength,\nhe went to his father's tent, and threw himself at his feet.\n\nNever was there a more affecting interview. Shaw Zummaun gently\nupbraided his son with unkindness in so cruelly leaving him; and\nKummir al Zummaun discovered a hearty sorrow for the fault which\nlove had urged him to commit.\n\nThe three kings, and queen Margiana, stayed three days at the\ncourt of the king of the magicians, who treated them\nmagnificently. These three days were rendered more remarkable by\nprince Assad's marriage with queen Margiana, and prince Amgiad\nwith Bostama, for the service she had done his brother Assad.\n\nAt length the three kings, and queen Margiana, with her husband\nAssad, returned to their respective kingdoms. As for Amgiad, the\nking of the magicians had such an affection for him, he could not\npart with him; and being very old, he resigned his crown to him.\nAmgiad, when he had the supreme authority, did his utmost to\nexterminate the worship of fire, and establish the Mahummedan\nreligion throughout his dominions.\n\n\n\n\n             THE STORY OF NOOR AD DEEN AND THE FAIR\n                            PERSIAN.\n\n\n\nThe city of Bussorah was for many years the capital of a kingdom\ntributary to the caliphs of Arabia. The king who governed it in\nthe days of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed was named Zinebi, who\nnot thinking it proper to commit the administration of his\naffairs to a single vizier, made choice of two, Khacan and Saouy.\n\nKhacan was of a sweet, generous, and affable temper, and took\npleasure in obliging, to the utmost of his power, those with whom\nhe had any business to transact, without violating the justice\nwhich it became him to dispense to all. He was therefore\nuniversally respected, at court, in the city, and throughout the\nwhole kingdom; and the praises he so highly deserved were the\ngeneral theme.\n\nSaouy was of a very different character: he was always sullen and\nmorose, and disgusted every body, without regard to their rank or\nquality. Instead of commanding respect by the liberal\ndistribution of his immense wealth, he was so perfect a miser as\nto deny himself the necessaries of life. In short, nobody could\nendure him; and nothing good was said of him. But what rendered\nhim most hateful to the people, was his implacable aversion to\nKhacan. He was always putting the worst construction on the\nactions of that worthy minister, and endeavouring as much as\npossible to prejudice him with the king.\n\nOne day after council, the king of Bussorah amused himself with\nhis two viziers and some other members. The conversation turned\nupon the female slaves that are daily bought and sold, and who\nhold nearly the same rank as the lawful wives. Some were of\nopinion, that personal beauty in slaves so purchased was of\nitself sufficient to render them proper substitutes for wives,\nwhich, often on account of alliance or interest in families, men\nare obliged to marry, though they are not always possessed of any\nperfection, either of mind or body.\n\nOthers maintained, and amongst the rest Khacan, that personal\ncharms were by no means the only qualifications to be desired in\na slave; but that they ought to be accompanied with a great share\nof wit, a cultivated understanding, modesty, and, if possible,\nevery agreeable accomplishment. The reason they gave was, that\nnothing could be more gratifying to persons on whom the\nmanagement of important affairs devolved, than, after having\nspent the day in fatiguing employment, to have a companion in\ntheir retirement, whose conversation would be not only pleasing,\nbut useful and instructive: for, in short, continued they, there\nis but little difference between brutes and those men who keep a\nslave only to look at, and to gratify a passion that we have in\ncommon with them.\n\nThe king entirely concurred in this opinion, and accordingly\nordered Khacan to buy him a slave, of perfect beauty, mistress of\nall the qualifications they had enumerated, and possessed, above\nall things, of an enlightened understanding.\n\nSaouy, jealous of the honour the king had done Khacan, and\ndiffering widely with him in opinion, said, \"Sire, it will be\nvery difficult to find a slave so accomplished as your majesty\nrequires; and should such a one be discovered, which I scarcely\nbelieve possible, she will be cheap at ten thousand pieces of\ngold.\" \"Saouy,\" replied the king, \"I perceive plainly you think\nthe sum too great; it may be so for you, though not for me.\" Then\nturning to his high treasurer, he ordered him to send the ten\nthousand pieces of gold to the vizier's house.\n\nKhacan, as soon as he had returned home, sent for all the brokers\nwho used to deal in women-slaves, and strictly charged them,\nthat, if ever they met with one who answered the description he\ngave them, they should immediately apprise him. The brokers,\npartly to oblige the vizier, and partly for their own interest,\npromised to use their utmost endeavours to procure for him one\nthat would accord with his wishes. Scarcely a day passed but they\nbrought him a slave for his inspection, but he always discovered\nin each something defective.\n\nOne day, early in the morning, as Khacan was mounting his horse\nto go to court, a broker came to him, and, taking hold of the\nstirrup with great eagerness, told him a Persian merchant had\narrived very late the day before, who had a slave to sell, so\nsurprisingly beautiful that she excelled all the women his eyes\nhad ever beheld; \"And for wit and knowledge,\" added he, \"the\nmerchant engages she shall match the most acute and learned\npersons of the age.\"\n\nKhacan, overjoyed at this intelligence, which promised him a\nfavourable opportunity for making his court, ordered him to bring\nthe slave to his palace against his return, and departed.\n\nThe broker failed not to be at the vizier's at the appointed\nhour; and Khacan, finding the lovely slave so much beyond his\nexpectation, immediately gave her the name of the fair Persian.\nAs he had himself much wit and learning, he soon perceived by her\nconversation, that it was in vain to search further for a slave\nthat surpassed her in any of the qualifications required by the\nking; and therefore he asked the broker at what sum the Persian\nmerchant valued her.\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the broker, \"he is a man of few words in\nbargaining, and he tells me, that the very lowest price he will\ntake for her is ten thousand pieces of gold: he has also sworn to\nme, that, without reckoning his care and pains from the time of\nhis first taking her under his charge, he has laid out nearly\nthat sum on her education in masters to improve her form and\ncultivate her mind, besides what she has cost him in clothes and\nmaintenance. As he always thought her fit for a king, he has from\nher infancy, when he first bought her, been sparing of nothing\nthat might contribute towards advancing her to that high\ndistinction. She plays upon all kinds of instruments to\nperfection; she sings, dances, writes better than the most\ncelebrated authors, makes verses, and there is scarcely any book\nbut she has read; so that there never was a slave so accomplished\nheard of before.\"\n\nThe vizier Khacan, who could estimate the merits of the fair\nPersian better than the broker, who only reported what he had\nheard from the merchant, was unwilling to defer the bargain to a\nfuture opportunity, and therefore sent one of his servants to\nlook for the merchant, where the broker told him he was to be\nfound.\n\nAs soon as the Persian merchant arrived, \"It is not for myself,\nbut for the king,\" said the vizier Khacan, \"that I buy your\nslave; but, nevertheless, you must let him have her at a more\nreasonable price than you have set upon her.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the merchant, \"I should do myself unspeakable\nhonour in offering her as a present to his majesty, if it became\na person in my situation to make him one of such inestimable\nvalue. I ask no more than her education and accomplishments have\ncost me; and all I have to say is, that I believe his majesty\nwill be extremely pleased with the purchase.\"\n\nThe vizier Khacan would stand no longer bargaining with the\nmerchant, but paid him the money immediately. \"Sir,\" said he to\nthe vizier, upon taking his leave of him, \"since the slave is\ndesigned for the king's use, give me leave to tell you, that\nbeing extremely fatigued with our long journey, you see her at\npresent under great disadvantage. Though she has not her equal in\nthe world for beauty, yet if you please to keep her at your own\nhouse for a fortnight, she will appear quite another creature.\nYou may then present her to the king with honour and credit; for\nwhich I hope you will think yourself much obliged to me. The sun,\nyou perceive, has a little injured her complexion; but after two\nor three times bathing, and when you have dressed her as you\nthink proper, she will be so changed, that she will appear\ninfinitely more charming.\"\n\nKhacan was pleased with the instructions the merchant gave him,\nand resolved to abide by them. He assigned the fair Persian a\nparticular apartment near his lady's, whom he desired to invite\nher to an entertainment, and thenceforth to treat her as a person\ndesigned for the king: he also provided for her several suits of\nthe richest clothes that could be had, and would become her best.\nBefore he took his leave of the fair Persian, he said \"Your\nhappiness, madam, cannot be greater than what I am about to\nprocure for you; you shall judge for yourself; it is for the king\nI have purchased you; and I hope he will be even more pleased\nwith possessing you than I am in having discharged the commission\nwith which his majesty has honoured me. I think it, however, my\nduty to warn you that I have a son, who, though he does not want\nwit, is yet young, insinuating, and forward; and to caution you\nhow you suffer him to come near you.\" The fair Persian thanked\nhim for his advice; and after she had given him assurance of her\nintention to follow it, he withdrew.\n\nNoor ad Deen, for so the vizier's son was named, had free access\nto the apartment of his mother, with whom he usually ate his\nmeals. He was young, handsome in person, agreeable in manners,\nand firm in his temper; and having great readiness of wit, and\nfluency of language, was perfect master of the art of persuasion.\nHe saw the fair Persian; and from their first interview, though\nhe knew his father had bought her purposely for the king, and had\nso informed him, yet he never used the least endeavour to check\nthe violence of his passion. In short, he resigned himself wholly\nto the power of her charms, by which his heart was at first\ncaptivated; and, from his first conversation with her, resolved\nto use his utmost endeavours to keep her from the king.\n\nThe fair Persian, on her part, had no dislike to Noor ad Deen.\n\"The vizier,\" said she to herself, \"has done me honour in\npurchasing me for the king; but I should have thought myself very\nhappy if he had designed me only for his own son.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen was not remiss in improving the advantage he enjoyed\nof seeing and conversing with a beauty of whom he was so\npassionately enamoured; for he would never leave her till obliged\nby his mother. \"My son,\" she would say, \"it is not proper for a\nyoung man like you to be always in the women's apartments; go,\nmind your studies, and endeavour to qualify yourself to succeed\nto the honours of your father.\"\n\nThe fair Persian not having bathed for a considerable time on\naccount of the length of her journey, the vizier's lady, five or\nsix days after she was purchased, ordered the bath in her own\nhouse to be got ready purposely for her. She sent her to it\naccompanied by many other women-slaves, who were charged by the\nvizier's lady to be as attentive to her as to herself, and, after\nbathing, to put her on a very rich suit of clothes that she had\nprovided for her. She was the more careful in order to ingratiate\nherself with her husband, by letting him see how much she\ninterested herself in every thing that contributed to his\npleasure.\n\nAs soon as she came out of the bath, the fair Persian, a thousand\ntimes more beautiful than she had appeared to Khacan when he\nbought her, went to visit his lady, who at first hardly knew her.\nThe fair Persian gracefully kissed her hand, and said, \"Madam, I\nknow not how you like me in this dress you have been pleased to\norder for me; but your women, who tell me it becomes me so\nextremely well they should scarcely know me, certainly flatter\nme. From you alone I expect to hear the truth; but, if what they\nsay be really so, I am indebted to you, madam, for the advantage\nit has given me.\"\n\n\"Oh! my daughter,\" cried the vizier's lady, transported with joy,\n\"you have no reason to believe my women have flattered you; I am\nbetter skilled in beauty than they; and, setting aside your\ndress, which becomes you admirably well, your beauty is so much\nimproved by the bath, that I hardly knew you myself. If I thought\nthe bath was warm enough, I would take my turn; for I am now of\nan age to require its frequent use.\" \"Madam,\" replied the fair\nPersian, \"I have nothing to say to the undeserved civilities you\nhave been pleased to shew me. As for the bath, it is in fine\norder; and if you design to go in, you have no time to lose, as\nyour women can inform you.\"\n\nThe vizier's lady, considering that she had not bathed for some\ndays, was desirous to avail herself of that opportunity; and\naccordingly acquainted her women with her intention, who\nimmediately prepared all things necessary for the occasion. The\nfair Persian withdrew to her apartment; and the vizier's lady,\nbefore she went to bathe, ordered two little female slaves to\nstay with her, with a strict charge that if Noor ad Deen came,\nthey should not give him admittance.\n\nWhile the vizier's lady was bathing, and the fair slave was alone\nin her apartment, Noor ad Deen came in, and not finding his\nmother in her chamber, went directly towards the fair Persian's,\nand found the two little slaves in the antechamber. He asked them\nwhere his mother was? They told him in the bath. \"Where is the\nfair Persian, then?\" demanded Noor ad Deen. \"In her chamber,\"\nanswered the slaves; \"but we have positive orders from your\nmother not to admit you.\"\n\nThe entrance into the fair Persian's chamber being only covered\nwith a piece of tapestry, Noor ad Deen went to lift it up, in\norder to enter, but was opposed by the two slaves, who placed\nthemselves before it, to stop his passage. He presently caught\nthem both by the arms, and, thrusting them out of the\nantechamber, locked the door upon them. They immediately ran with\nloud lamentations to the bath, and with tears in their eyes, told\ntheir lady, that Noor ad Deen, having driven them away by force,\nhad gone into the fair Persian's chamber.\n\nThe vizier's lady received the account of her son's presumption\nwith the greatest concern. She immediately left the bath, and\ndressing herself with all possible speed, came directly to the\nfair Persian's chamber; but before she could get thither, Noor ad\nDeen had gone away.\n\nThe fair Persian was extremely surprised to see the vizier's lady\nenter her chamber in tears, and in the utmost confusion. \"Madam,\"\nsaid she, \"may I presume to ask you the occasion of your concern;\nand what accident has happened in the bath, to make you leave it\nso soon?\"\n\n\"What!\" cried the vizier's lady, \"can you so calmly ask that\nquestion, after my son has been with you alone in your chamber?\nCan there happen a greater misfortune to him or me?\"\n\n\"I beseech you, madam,\" replied the fair slave, \"what prejudice\ncan this action of Noor ad Deen's do to you or him?\"\n\n\"How,\" returned the vizier's lady, \"did not my husband tell you\nthat you were designed for the king, and sufficiently caution you\nto beware of our son?\"\n\n\"I have not forgotten that, madam,\" replied the fair Persian;\n\"but your son came to tell me the vizier his father had changed\nhis purpose, and instead of reserving me for the king, as he\nfirst designed, had made him a present of my person. I easily\nbelieved him; for, oh! think how a slave as I am, accustomed from\nmy infant years to the laws of servitude, could or ought to\nresist him! I must own I did it with the less reluctance, on\naccount of the affection for him, which the freedom of our\nconversation and daily intercourse has excited in my heart. I\ncould without regret resign the hope of ever being the king's,\nand think myself perfectly happy in spending my whole life with\nNoor ad Deen.\"\n\nAt this discourse of the fair Persian's, the vizier's lady\nexclaimed, \"Would to God that what you say were true! I should\nhear it with joy; but, believe me, Noor ad Deen has deceived you;\nfor it is impossible his father should ever make him such a\npresent. Ah! wretched youth, how miserable has he made me! and\nmore especially his father, by the dismal consequences we must\nall expect to share with him! Neither my prayers nor tears will\nbe able to prevail, or obtain a pardon for him; for as soon as\nhis father hears of his violence to you, he will inevitably\nsacrifice him to his resentment.\" At these words she wept\nbitterly; and the slaves, who were as much alarmed for Noor ad\nDeen as herself, joined in her tears.\n\nShortly after the vizier Khacan entered; and being surprised to\nfind his lady and her slaves all in tears, and the fair Persian\nvery melancholy asked the reason; but instead of answering him\nhis wife and the slaves continued weeping and lamenting. This\nastonished him still more; at last, addressing himself to his\nwife, \"I command you,\" said he, \"to let me know the reason of\nyour tears, and to tell me the whole truth.\"\n\nThe disconsolate lady could no longer refuse to satisfy her\nhusband. \"Sir,\" said she, \"first promise not to use me unkindly\non account of what I shall inform you, since I assure you, that\nwhat has happened has not been occasioned by any fault of mine.\"\nWithout waiting for his answer, she then proceeded, \"whilst I was\nbathing with my women, your son seizing that fatal opportunity to\nruin us both, came hither, and made the fair Persian believe,\nthat instead of reserving her for the king, you had given her to\nhim as a present. I will not say what he did after such a wicked\nfalsehood, but shall leave you to judge. This is the cause of my\naffliction, on your account, and his, for whom I want confidence\nto implore your pardon.\"\n\nIt is impossible to express the vizier Khacan's distraction at\nthis account of the insolence of his son. \"Ah!\" cried he, beating\nhis breast, and tearing his beard, \"miserable son! unworthy of\nlife! hast thou at last thrown thy father from the highest\npinnacle of happiness into a misfortune that must inevitably\ninvolve thee also in his ruin? neither will the king be satisfied\nwith thy blood or mine, to avenge the affront offered to his\nroyal person.\"\n\nHis lady endeavoured to comfort him. \"Afflict yourself no more,\"\nsaid she; \"I shall easily raise, with part of my jewels, ten\nthousand pieces of gold, and you may buy another slave, more\nbeautiful and more worthy of the king.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" replied the vizier, \"could you think me capable of being so\nextremely afflicted at losing ten thousand pieces of gold? It is\nnot that loss, nor the loss of all I am worth, for that I should\nnot feel; but the forfeiting my honour, more precious than all\nthe riches in the world, that distresses me.\" \"However,\" replied\nthe lady, \"a loss that can be repaired by money cannot be so very\ngreat.\"\n\n\"How!\" exclaimed the vizier; \"do you not know that Saouy is my\nmortal enemy; and as soon as this affair comes to his knowledge,\ndo you think he will not exult over me before the king? 'Your\nmajesty,' will he not say to him, is always talking of Khacan's\nzeal and affection for your service; but see what a proof he has\nlately given of his claim to the regard you have hitherto shewn\nhim. He has received ten thousand pieces of gold to buy a slave;\nand, to do him justice, he has most honourably acquitted himself\nof that commission, by purchasing the most beautiful that ever\neyes beheld; but, instead of bringing her to your majesty, he has\nthought it better to make a present of her to his son. \"Here, my\nson,\" said he, \"take this slave, since thou art more worthy of\nher than the king.\" Then, with his usual malice, will he not go\non. His son has her now entirely in his possession, and every\nday revels in her arms, without the least disturbance. This, sir,\nis the exact truth, that I have done myself the honour of\nacquainting you with; and if your majesty questions my veracity,\nyou may easily satisfy yourself. Do you not plainly see,\"\ncontinued the vizier, \"how, upon such a malicious insinuation as\nthis, I am every moment liable to have my house forced by the\nking's guards, and the fair Persian taken from me, besides a\nthousand other misfortunes that will unavoidably follow?\" \"Sir,\"\nreplied the vizier's lady to her husband, \"I am sensible the\nmalice of Saouy is very great, and that, if he have but the least\nintimation of this affair, he will certainly give it a turn very\ndisadvantageous to your interest; but how is it possible that he\nor any one else should know what has been privately transacted in\nyour family? Suppose it comes to the king's ears, and he should\nask you about it; cannot you say, that upon a strict examination\nyou did not deem the slave so fit for his majesty's use as you\nhad at first thought her; that the merchant has cheated you;\nthat, indeed, she has considerable beauty, but is by no means so\naccomplished as she had been represented. The king will certainly\nbelieve what you say, and Saouy be vexed to the soul, to see all\nhis malicious design of ruining you disappointed. Take courage\nthen, and, if you will follow my advice, send for all the\nbrokers, tell them you do not like the fair Persian, and order\nthem to be as expeditious as possible in procuring for you\nanother slave.\"\n\nAs this advice appeared rational to the vizier Khacan, and as his\npassion began to cool, he resolved to abide by it, but his\nindignation against his son remained as violent as ever.\n\nNoor ad Deen did not make his appearance during the whole of that\nday, and not daring to hide himself among his young companions,\nlest his father should search for him in their houses, he went a\nlittle way out of town, and took sanctuary in a garden, where he\nhad never been before, and where he was totally unknown. He did\nnot return home till it was very late, when he knew his father\nwas in bed; and then his mother's women, opening the door very\nsoftly; admitted him without any noise. He quitted the house\nagain next morning before his father was stirring; and this plan\nhe pursued for a whole month, to his great mortification. Indeed,\nthe women never flattered him, but told him plainly, his father's\nanger was not at all diminished, and that he protested if he came\ninto his sight he would certainly kill him.\n\nThe vizier's lady learnt from her women that Noor ad Deen slept\nevery night in the house, but she could not summon resolution to\nsupplicate her husband for his pardon. At last, however, she\nventured. One day she said to him, \"I have hitherto been silent,\nsir, not daring to take the liberty of talking to you about your\nson; but now give me leave to ask what you design to do with him?\nIt is impossible for a son to have acted more criminally towards\na father than he has done, in depriving you of the honour and\ngratification of presenting to the king a slave so accomplished\nas the fair Persian. This I acknowledge; but, after all, are you\nresolved to destroy him, and, instead of a light evil no more to\nbe thought of, to draw upon yourself a far greater than perhaps\nyou at present apprehend? Are you not afraid that the malicious\nworld, which inquires after the reason of your son's absconding,\nmay find out the true cause, which you are so desirous of\nconcealing? Should that happen, you would justly fall into a\nmisfortune, which it is so much your interest to avoid.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" returned the vizier, \"there is much reason in what you\nhave urged; but I cannot think of pardoning our son, till I have\nmortified him as he deserves.\" \"He will be sufficiently\nmortified,\" replied the lady, \"if you will only do what has just\nsuggested itself to my mind. Your son comes home every night\nafter you have retired; he sleeps here, and steals out every\nmorning before you are stirring. Wait for his coming in to-night,\nmake as if you designed to kill him, upon which I will run to his\nassistance, and when he finds he owes his life entirely to my\nprayers and entreaties, you may oblige him to take the fair\nPersian on what condition you please. He loves her, and I am well\nsatisfied the fair slave has no aversion for him.\"\n\nKhacan readily consented to this stratagem. Accordingly, when\nNoor ad Deen came at the usual hour, before the door was opened,\nhe placed himself behind it: as soon as he entered, he rushed\nsuddenly upon him, and got him down under his feet. Noor ad Deen,\nlifting up his head, saw his father with a dagger in his hand,\nready to stab him.\n\nAt that instant his mother arrived, and catching hold of the\nvizier's arm, cried, \"Sir, what are you doing?\" \"Let me alone,\"\nreplied the vizier, \"that I may kill this base, unworthy son.\"\n\"You shall kill me first,\" returned the mother; \"never will I\nsuffer you to imbue your hands in your own blood.\" Noor ad Deen\nimproved this moment. \"My father,\" cried he with tears in his\neyes, \"I implore your clemency and compassion; nor must you deny\nme pardon, since I ask it in his name before whom we must all\nappear at the last day.\"\n\nKhacan suffered the dagger to be taken out of his hand; and as\nsoon as Noor ad Deen was released, he threw himself at his\nfather's feet and kissed them, to shew how sincerely he repented\nof having offended him. \"Son,\" said the vizier, \"return thanks to\nyour mother, since it is for her sake I pardon you. I propose\nalso to give you the fair Persian, on condition that you will\nbind yourself by an oath not to regard her any longer as a slave,\nbut as your wife; that you will not sell her, nor ever be\ndivorced from her. As she possesses an excellent understanding,\nand abundantly more wit and prudence than yourself, I doubt not\nbut that she will be able to moderate those rash sallies of\nyouth, which are otherwise so likely to effect your ruin.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, who little expected such indulgent treatment,\nreturned his father a thousand thanks, and the fair Persian and\nhe were well pleased with being united to each other.\n\nThe vizier Khacan, without waiting for the king's inquiries about\nthe success of the commission he had given him, took particular\ncare to mention the subject often, representing to his majesty\nthe many difficulties he met, and how fearful he was of not\nacquitting himself to his majesty's satisfaction. In short, he\nmanaged the business with so much address, that the king\ninsensibly forgot it. Though Saouy had gained some intimation of\nthe transaction, yet Khacan was so much in the king's favour,\nthat he was afraid to divulge what he had heard.\n\nThis delicate affair had now been kept rather more than a year\nwith greater secrecy than the vizier at first expected, when\nbeing one day in the bath, and some important business obliging\nhim to leave it, warm as he was, the air, which was then cold,\nstruck to his breast, caused a defluxion to fall upon his lungs,\nwhich threw him into a violent fever, and confined him to his\nbed. His illness increasing every day, and perceiving he had not\nlong to live, he thus addressed himself to his son, who never\nquitted him during the whole of his illness: \"My son,\" said he,\n\"I know not whether I have well employed the riches heaven has\nblessed me with, but you see they are not able to save me from\nthe hands of death. The last thing I desire of you with my dying\nbreath is, that you would be mindful of the promise you made me\nconcerning the fair Persian, and in this assurance I shall die\ncontent.\"\n\nThese were the vizier Khacan's last words. He expired a few\nmoments after, and left his family, the court, and the whole\ncity, in great affliction, The king lamented him as a wise,\nzealous, and faithful minister; and the people bewailed him as\ntheir protector and benefactor.. Never was there a funeral in\nBussorah solemnized with greater pomp and magnificence. The\nviziers, emirs, and in general all the grandees of the court,\nstrove for the honour of bearing his coffin, one after another,\nupon their shoulders, to the place of burial; and both rich and\npoor accompanied him, dissolved in tears.\n\nNoor ad Deen exhibited all the demonstrations of a sorrow\nproportioned to the loss he had sustained, and long refrained\nfrom seeing any company. At last he admitted of a visit from an\nintimate acquaintance. His friend endeavoured to comfort him; and\nfinding him inclined to hear reason, told him, that having paid\nwhat was due to the memory of his father, and fully satisfied all\nthat decency required of him, it was now high time to appear\nagain in the world, to converse with his friends, and maintain a\ncharacter suitable to his birth and talents. \"For,\" continued he,\n\"though we should sin against the laws both of nature and\nsociety, and be thought insensible, if on the death of our\nfathers we neglected to pay them the duties which filial love\nimposes upon us; yet having performed these, and put it out of\nthe power of any to reproach us for our conduct, it behoves us to\nreturn to the world, and our customary occupations. Dry up your\ntears then, and reassume that wonted air of gaiety which has\nalways inspired with joy those who have had the honour of your\nfriendship.\"\n\nThis advice seemed too reasonable to be rejected, and had Noor ad\nDeen strictly abided by it, he would certainly have avoided all\nthe misfortunes that afterwards befell him. He entertained his\nfriend honourably; and when he took his leave, desired him to\ncome again the next day, and bring with him three or four friends\nof their acquaintance. By this means he insensibly fell into the\nsociety of about ten young men nearly of his own age, with whom\nhe spent his time in continual feasting and entertainments; and\nscarcely a day passed but he made every one of them some\nconsiderable present.\n\nThe fair Persian, who never approved of his extravagant way of\nliving, often spoke her mind freely. \"I question not,\" said she,\n\"but the vizier your father has left you an ample fortune: but\ngreat as it may be, be not displeased with your slave for telling\nyou, that at this rate of living you will quickly see an end of\nit. We may sometimes indeed treat our friends, and be merry with\nthem; but to make a daily practice of it, is certainly the high\nroad to ruin and destruction: for your own honour and reputation,\nyou would do better to follow the footsteps of your deceased\nfather, that in time you may rise to that dignity by which he\nacquired so much glory and renown.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen hearkened to the fair Persian with a smile: and when\nshe had done, \"My charmer,\" said he, with the same air of gaiety,\n\"say no more of that; let us talk of nothing but mirth and\npleasure. In my father's lifetime I was always under restraint;\nand I am now resolved to enjoy the liberty I so much sighed for\nbefore his death. It will be time enough for me hereafter to\nthink of leading the sober, regular life you talk of; and a man\nof my age ought to taste the pleasures of youth.\"\n\nWhat contributed still more to the ruin of Noor ad Deen's\nfortune, was his unwillingness to reckon with his steward; for\nwhenever he brought in his accounts, he still sent him away\nwithout examining them: \"Go, go,\" said he, \"I trust wholly to\nyour honesty; only take care to provide good entertainments for\nmy friends.\"\n\n\"You are the master, sir,\" replied he, \"and I but the steward;\nhowever, you would do well to think upon the proverb, 'He that\nspends much, and has but little, must at last insensibly be\nreduced to poverty.' You are not contented with keeping an\nextravagant table, but you must lavish away your estate with both\nhands: and were your coffers as large as mountains, they would\nnot be sufficient to maintain you.\" \"Begone,\" replied Noor ad\nDeen, \"I want not your grave lessons; only take care to provide\ngood eating and drinking, and trouble your head no farther about\nthe rest.\"\n\nIn the meantime, Noor ad Deen's friends were constant guests at\nhis table, and never failed to take advantage of the easiness of\nhis temper. They praised and flattered him, extolling his most\nindifferent actions; but, above all, they took particular care to\ncommend whatever belonged to him; and in this they found their\naccount. \"Sir,\" said one of them, \"I came the other day by your\nestate that lies in such a place; nothing can be so magnificent\nor so handsomely furnished as your house; and the garden\nbelonging to it is a paradise upon earth.\" \"I am very glad it\npleases you,\" replied Noor ad Deen: \"bring me pen, ink, and\npaper; without more words, it is at your service; I make you a\npresent of it.\" No sooner had others commended one of his houses,\nbaths, or public buildings erected for the use of strangers, the\nyearly revenue of which was very considerable, than he\nimmediately gave them away. The fair Persian could not forbear\nstating to him how much injury he did himself; but, instead of\npaying any regard to her remonstrances, he continued his\nextravagances, and the first opportunity that offered, squandered\naway the little he had left.\n\nIn short, Noor ad Deen did nothing for a whole year but feast and\nmake merry, wasting and consuming, with the utmost prodigality,\nthe great wealth that his predecessors, and the good vizier his\nfather, had with so much pains and care acquired and preserved.\n\nThe year was but just expired, when a person one day knocked at\nthe door of the hall, where he and his friends were at dinner\ntogether by themselves, having sent away the slaves, that they\nmight enjoy the greater liberty.\n\nOne of his friends offered to rise; but Noor ad Deen stepping\nbefore him, opened the door himself. It was the steward; and Noor\nad Deen, going a little out of the hall to know his business,\nleft the door half open.\n\nThe friend that offered to rise from his seat, seeing it was the\nsteward, and being curious to know what he had to say, placed\nhimself between the hangings and the door, where he plainly\noverheard the steward's discourse to his master. \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"I ask a thousand pardons for coming to disturb you in the height\nof your pleasure; but what I have to say is of such importance,\nthat I thought myself bound in duty to acquaint you with it. I am\ncome, sir, to make up my last accounts, and to tell you, that\nwhat I all along foresaw, and have often warned you of, is at\nlast come to pass. I have not the smallest piece left of all the\nsums I have received from you for your expenses; the other funds\nyou assigned me are all exhausted. The farmers, and those that\nowe you rent, have made it so plainly appear to me, that you have\nassigned over to others what they held of you, that it is\nimpossible for me to get any more from them on your account. Here\nare my books; if you please, examine them; and if you wish I\nshould continue useful to you, assign me other funds, or else\ngive me leave to quit your service.\" Noor ad Deen was so\nastonished at his statement, that he gave him no answer.\n\nThe friend who had been listening all this while, and had heard\nevery syllable of what the steward said, immediately came in, and\ntold the company what he had overheard. \"It is your business,\ngentlemen,\" said he, \"to make your use of this caution; for my\npart, I declare to you, this is the last visit I design ever to\nmake Noor ad Deen.\" \"Nay,\" replied they, \"if matters go thus, we\nhave as little business here as you; and for the future shall\ntake care not to trouble him with our company.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen returned presently after; notwithstanding all his\nefforts to appear gay to his guests, he could not so dissemble\nhis concern, but they plainly perceived the truth of what they\nhad heard. He was scarcely sat down in his place, when one of his\nfriends arose: \"Sir,\" said he, \"I am sorry I cannot have the\nhonour of keeping you company any longer; and therefore I hope\nyou will excuse my rudeness in leaving you so soon.\" \"What urgent\naffair,\" demanded Noor ad Deen, \"obliges you to be going so\nsoon?\" \"My wife, sir,\" he replied, \"is brought to bed to-day; and\nupon such an occasion, you know a husband's company is always\nnecessary.\" So making a very low bow, he went away. A minute\nafterwards a second took his leave, with another excuse. The rest\ndid the same, one after another, till at last not one of the ten\nfriends that had hitherto kept Noor ad Deen company remained.\n\nAs soon as they were gone, Noor ad Deen, little suspecting the\nresolution they had formed never to see him again, went directly\nto the fair Persian's apartment; to whom he related all the\nsteward had told him, and seemed extremely concerned at the ill\nstate of his affairs. \"Sir,\" said the fair Persian, \"allow me to\nsay, you would never take my advice, but always managed your\nconcerns after your own way, and now you see the fatal\nconsequences. I find I was not mistaken, when I presaged to what\na miserable condition you would bring yourself at last: but what\nafflicts me the more is, that at present you do not see the worst\nof your misfortunes. Whenever I presumed freely to remonstrate\nwith you, 'Let us be merry,' you replied, 'and improve the time\nthat Fortune offers us; perhaps she will not always be so\nprodigal of her favours:' but was I to blame in telling you, that\nwe are ourselves the makers of our own fortunes by a prudent\nmanagement of them? You would not hearken to me; and I was\nforced, however reluctantly, to let you go on.\"\n\n\"I must own,\" replied Noor ad Deen, \"I was extremely in the wrong\nin not following the advice which with such admirable prudence\nyou gave me. It is true, I have spent my estate; but do you not\nconsider, it is among a chosen set of friends, whom I have long\nknown, and who, I am persuaded, have more generosity and\ngratitude than to abandon me in distress?\" \"Sir,\" replied the\nfair Persian, \"if you have nothing but the gratitude of your\nfriends to depend on, your case is desperate; for, believe me,\nthat hope is ill-grounded, and you will tell me so yourself in\ntime.\"\n\nTo this Noor ad Deen replied, \"Charming Persian, I have a better\nopinion of my friends' generosity: to-morrow I design to visit\nthem all, before the usual time of their coming hither; and you\nshall see me return with a round sum that they will assist me\nwith. I am resolved to alter my way of living, and, with the\nmoney they lend me, to set up in some business.\"\n\nNext morning, Noor ad Deen visited his ten friends, who lived in\nthe same street. He knocked at the first door, where one of the\nrichest of them resided. A slave came to the door: but before he\nwould open it, asked who was there. \"Tell your master,\" said he\nto the slave, \"it is Noor ad Deen, the late vizier Khacan's son.\"\nThe slave opened the door, and shewed him into a hall, where he\nleft him, in order to inform his master, who was in an inner\nroom, that Noor ad Deen was come to wait on him, \"Noor ad Deen!\"\ncried he, in a disdainful tone, loud enough for him to hear: \"go\ntell him I am not at home; and whenever he may come again, be\nsure you give him the same answer.\" The slave returned, and told\nNoor ad Deen he thought his master was within, but was mistaken.\n\nNoor ad Deen came away in the greatest confusion. \"Ah! base,\nungrateful wretch!\" cried he, \"to treat me so to-day after the\nvows and protestations of friendship that he made me yesterday.\"\nHe went to another door, but that friend ordered his slave also\nto say he was gone out. He had the same answer at the third; and,\nin short, all the rest denied themselves, though every one was at\nhome.\n\nNoor ad Deen now began in earnest to reflect with himself, and\nsee the folly of relying upon the protestations of attachment\nthat his false friends had solemnly made him in the time of his\nprosperity, when he could treat them sumptuously, and load them\nwith favours. \"It is true,\" said he to himself, \"that a fortunate\nman, as I was, may be compared to a tree laden with fruit, which,\nas long as there is any on its boughs, people will be crowding\nround, and gathering; but as soon as it is stripped of all, they\nimmediately leave it, and go to another.\" He smothered his\npassion as much as possible while he was abroad; but no sooner\nwas he got home than he gave a loose to his affliction, and\ndiscovered it to the fair Persian.\n\nThe fair Persian seeing him so extremely concerned, guessed he\nhad not found his friends so ready to assist him as he expected.\n\"Well, sir,\" said she, \"are you now convinced of the truth of\nwhat I told you?\" \"Ah!\" cried he, \"thou hast been too true a\nprophetess; for not one of them would know me, see me, or speak\nto me. Who could ever have believed, that persons so highly\nobliged to me, and on whom I have spent my estate, could have\nused me so ungratefully? I am distracted; and I fear shall commit\nsome action unworthy myself, in the deplorable and desperate\ncondition I am reduced to, unless you assist me with your prudent\nadvice.\" \"Sir,\" replied the fair Persian, \"I see no other way of\nsupporting yourself in your misfortunes, but selling off your\nslaves and furniture, and living on the money they produce, till\nheaven points out some other means to deliver you from your\npresent misery.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen was loth to resort to this expedient; but what could\nhe do in the necessitous circumstances to which he was reduced?\nHe first sold off his slaves, those unprofitable mouths, which\nwould have been a greater expense to him than in his present\ncondition he could bear. He lived on the money for some time; and\nwhen it was spent, ordered his goods to be carried into the\nmarket-place, where they were sold for half their value, though\nthere were among them several articles that had cost immense\nsums. Upon the produce of these he lived a considerable time; but\nthis supply failing at last, he had nothing left by which he\ncould raise any more money, of which he informed the fair Persian\nin the most sorrowful expressions.\n\nNoor ad Deen little expected the answer this prudent woman made\nhim. \"Sir,\" said she, \"I am your slave; and the late vizier your\nfather gave ten thousand pieces of gold for me. I know I am a\nlittle sunk in value since that time; but I believe I shall sell\nfor pretty near that sum. Let me entreat you then instantly to\ncarry me to the market, and expose me to sale; and with the money\nthat you get for me, which will be very considerable, you may\nturn merchant in some city where you are not known, and by that\nmeans find a way of living, if not in splendour, yet with\nhappiness and content.\"\n\n\"Lovely and adorable Persian!\" cried Noor ad Deen, \"is it\npossible you can entertain such a thought? Have I given you such\nslender proofs of my love, that you should think me capable of so\nbase an action? But suppose me so vile a wretch, could I do it\nwithout being guilty of perjury, after the oath I have taken to\nmy late father never to sell you? I would sooner die than break\nit, and part with you, whom I love infinitely beyond myself;\nthough, by the unreasonable proposal you have made me, you shew\nme that your love is by no means reciprocal.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the fair Persian, \"I am convinced that your\npassion for me is as sincere as you express; and heaven, who\nknows with what reluctance I have made this proposal which\ninduces you to think so hardly of me, is my witness, that mine is\nas great as yours; but to silence your reasons, I need only bid\nyou remember, that necessity has no law. I love you to that\ndegree that it is impossible for you to love me more; and be\nassured, that to what master soever I shall belong, my love for\nyou will continue undiminished; and if you are ever able to\nredeem me, as I hope you may, it will be the greatest pleasure in\nthe world to be restored to you again. I confess it is a fatal\nand cruel necessity to which we are driven; but I see no other\nway of freeing ourselves from the misery that involves us both.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, convinced of the truth of what the fair Persian had\nsaid, and that there was no other way of avoiding a shameful\npoverty, was forced to yield to her proposal. Accordingly he led\nher to the market where the women-slaves are exposed to sale,\nwith a regret that cannot easily be expressed. He applied himself\nto a broker, named Hagi Hassan. \"Hagi Hassan,\" said he, \"here is\na slave whom I mean to sell; what will they give for her?\"\n\nHagi Hassan desired Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian to walk\ninto a room; and when she had pulled off the veil that covered\nher face, \"Sir,\" said Hagi Hassan, in surprise, \"if I am not\nmistaken, this is the slave your father, the late vizier, gave\nten thousand pieces of gold for?\" Noor ad Deen assured him she\nwas the same and Hagi Hassan gave him some hopes of selling her\nat a high price, and promised to use all his art to raise her\nvalue as high as he could.\n\nHagi Hassan and Noor ad Deen went out of the room; and Hagi\nHassan locked the fair Persian in. He went immediately to the\nmerchants; but they being busy in buying slaves from different\ncountries, Greeks, Franks, Africans, Tartars, and others, he was\nforced to wait till the market was over. When the sale was ended,\nand the greatest part of them were got together again, \"My\nmasters,\" said he to them, with an air of gaiety in his looks and\nactions, \"every thing that is round is not a nut, every thing\nthat is long is not a fig, all that is red is not flesh, and all\neggs are not fresh; it is true you have seen and bought a great\nmany slaves in your lives, but you never yet saw one comparable\nto her I am going to tell you of. She is the very pearl of\nslaves. Come, follow me, you shall see her yourselves, and judge\nat what rate I shall cry her.\"\n\nThe merchants followed Hagi Hassan into the apartment where he\nhad left the fair Persian, and as soon as they beheld her were so\nsurprised at her beauty, that they unanimously agreed, four\nthousand pieces of gold was the very lowest price they could set\nupon her. The merchants left the room; and Hagi Hassan, who came\nout with them, without going any farther, proclaimed with a loud\nvoice, \"Four thousand pieces of gold for a Persian slave.\"\n\nNone of the merchants had yet offered anything, and were\nconsulting together about what they might afford to give for her,\nwhen the vizier Saouy appeared. Perceiving Noor ad Deen in the\nmarket, he said to himself, \"Noor ad Deen is certainly still\nmaking money of his goods\" (for he knew he had exposed them to\nsale), \"and is come hither to buy a slave with the product.\" He\nadvanced forward just as Hagi Hassan began to proclaim a second\ntime, \"Four thousand pieces of gold for a Persian slave.\"\n\nThe vizier Saouy, who concluded by the high price, that the slave\nmust be extraordinarily beautiful, was very desirous to see her;\nso spurring his horse forward, he rode up to Hagi Hassan, who was\nsurrounded by the merchants. \"Open the door,\" said he, \"and let\nme see the slave.\" It was not the custom to shew a slave to a\nparticular person after the merchants had seen her, and were\ntreating for her; but none of them durst dispute their right with\nthe vizier; and Hagi Hassan was obliged to open the door, and he\nmade a sign to the fair Persian to come forward, that Saouy might\nsee her, without alighting from his horse.\n\nThe vizier was astonished at the sight of so beautiful a slave;\nand knowing the broker's name (having formerly dealt with him),\n\"Hagi Hassan,\" said he, \"is it not at four thousand pieces of\ngold that you cry her?\" \"Yes, sir,\" answered he; \"the merchants\njust now agreed that I should put her up at that price: I wait\ntheir advance; and I question not but they will give a great deal\nmore.\"\n\n\"If no one offers more, I will give that sum,\" replied Saouy,\nlooking at the merchants at the same time with a countenance that\nforbad them to advance the price. He was so universally dreaded,\nthat no one durst speak a word, even to complain of his\nencroaching upon their privilege.\n\nThe vizier having stayed some time, and finding none of the\nmerchants outbid him, \"What do you stay for?\" said he to Hagi\nHassan. \"Inquire after the seller, and strike a bargain with him\nat four thousand pieces of gold, or ask if he demands more.\"\n\nHagi Hassan having locked the chamber-door, went to confer with\nNoor ad Deen. \"Sir,\" said he to him, \"I am very sorry to bring\nyou the ill news of your slave's going to be sold for nothing.\"\n\"How so?\" replied Noor ad Deen. \"Why sir,\" continued Hagi Hassan,\n\"you must know that the business at first went on well; for as\nsoon as the merchants had seen your slave, they ordered me,\nwithout hesitation, to cry her at four thousand pieces of gold;\naccordingly I cried her at that price, but presently the vizier\nSaouy came, and his presence has stopped the mouths of all the\nmerchants, who seemed disposed to raise her, at least to the same\nprice your deceased father gave for her. Saouy will give no more\nthan four thousand pieces; and it is much against my inclination\nthat I am come to tell you his despicable offer. The slave indeed\nis your own; but I will never advise you to part with her upon\nthose terms, since you and every one else are sensible of her\nbeing worth infinitely more; besides, he is base enough to\ncontrive a way to trick you out of the money.\"\n\n\"Hagi Hassan,\" replied Noor ad Deen, \"I am highly obliged to thee\nfor thy advice: do not think I will ever sell my slave to any\nenemy of our family; my necessities, indeed, are at present very\ngreat; but I would sooner die in the utmost poverty than consent\nto delivering her up to him. I have only one thing to beg of\nthee, who art skilful in all the turns and shifts of sale, that\nthou wouldst put me in a way to prevent the completion of the\nbargain.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Hagi Hassan, \"nothing is more easy: you must pretend\nthat, being in a violent passion with your slave, you swore to\nexpose her in the market, and for the sake of your oath have now\nbrought her hither, without any intention of selling her. This\nwill satisfy every one; and Saouy will have nothing to say\nagainst it. Come along with me then; and just as I am presenting\nher to Saouy as if it were by your own consent, pull her to you,\ngive her two or three blows, and send her home.\" \"I thank thee\nfor thy counsel,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"and will make use of it.\"\n\nHagi Hassan went back to the chamber; and having privately\nacquainted the fair Persian with their design, that she might not\nbe surprised, took her by the hand, and led her to the vizier\nSaouy, who was still on horseback at the door \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"here is the slave, she is yours; take her.\"\n\nThe words were scarcely out of Hagi Hassan's mouth, when Noor ad\nDeen, catching hold of the fair Persian, pulled her to him, and\ngiving her a box on the ear, \"Come hither, impertinence,\" said\nhe, \"and get you home again; for though your ill-humour obliged\nme to swear I should bring you hither, yet I never intended to\nsell you: I have business for you to do yet; and it will be time\nenough to part with you when I have nothing else left.\"\n\nThis conduct of Noor ad Deen put the vizier Saouy into a violent\npassion. \"Miserable debauchee,\" cried he, \"wouldst thou have me\nbelieve thou hast any thing else left to make money of but thy\nslave?\" and at the same instant, spurring his horse directly\nagainst him, endeavoured to carry off the fair Persian. Noor ad\nDeen nettled to the quick at the affront the vizier had put upon\nhim, quitted the fair Persian, and laying hold of his horse's\nbridle, made him run two or three paces backwards. \"Vile dotard,\"\nsaid he to the vizier, \"I would tear thy soul out of thy body\nthis moment, were it not out of respect for the crowd of people\nhere present.\"\n\nThe vizier Saouy being hated by all, there was not one among them\nbut was pleased to see Noor ad Deen mortify him; and by signs\nthey gave him to understand, that he might revenge himself upon\nhim as much as he pleased, for nobody would interfere in their\nquarrel.\n\nSaouy endeavoured to force Noor ad Deen to quit the bridle; but\nhe being a lusty, vigorous man, and encouraged by those that\nstood by, pulled him off his horse, gave him several blows, and\ndashed his head against the stones, till it was all over blood.\nThe slaves who waited upon the vizier would have drawn their\ncimeters, and fallen upon Noor ad Deen; but the merchants\ninterposing prevented them. \"What do you mean?\" said they to\nthem; \"do you not see that one is a vizier, the other a vizier's\nson? Let them fight it out; perhaps they will be reconciled one\ntime or another; whereas, if you had killed Noor ad Deen, your\nmaster, with all his greatness, could not have been able to\nprotest you against the law?\"\n\nNoor ad Deen having given over beating the vizier Saouy, left him\nin the mire, and taking the fair Persian, marched home with her,\nattended by the people, with shouts and acclamations for the\naction he had performed.\n\nThe vizier, cruelly bruised with the blows he had received, made\nshift to get up, with the assistance of his slaves, and had the\nmortification to see himself besmeared with blood and dirt. He\nleaned on the shoulders of two slaves, and in that condition went\nstraight to the palace in the sight of all the people, with the\ngreater confusion, because no one pitied him. As soon as he\nreached the king's apartment, he began to cry out, and call for\njustice in a lamentable tone. The king ordered him to be\nadmitted; and asked who it was that had abused and put him into\nthat miserable plight. \"Sire,\" cried Saouy, \"it is the favour of\nyour majesty, and being admitted into your sacred councils, that\nhas occasioned me to be so barbarously treated.\" \"Say no more of\nthat,\" replied the king, \"only let me hear the whole story\nsimply, and who the offender is; and if he is in the wrong, you\nmay depend upon it he shall be severely punished.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" said Saouy, telling the whole matter to his own\nadvantage, \"having occasion for a cook, I went to the market of\nwomen-slaves to buy one: when I came thither, there was a slave\njust cried at four thousand pieces of gold; I ordered them to\nbring her before me, and I think my eyes never did nor will\nbehold a more beautiful creature: I had no sooner examined her\nbeauty with the highest satisfaction, than I immediately asked to\nwhom she belonged; and upon inquiry found that Noor ad Deen, son\nto the late vizier Khacan, had the disposing of her.\n\n\"Your majesty may remember, that about two or three years ago,\nyou gave that vizier ten thousand pieces of gold, strictly\ncharging him to buy you a slave with that sum. The money, indeed,\nwas laid out upon this very slave; but instead of bringing her to\nyour majesty, thinking his son deserved her better, he made him a\npresent of her. Noor ad Deen, since his father's death, having\nwasted his whole fortune in riot and feasting, has nothing left\nbut this slave, whom he at last resolved to part with; and she\nwas to be sold in his name, I sent for him; and, without\nmentioning any thing of his father's prevarication, or rather\ntreachery to your majesty, I in the civilest manner said to him,\n'Noor ad Deen, the merchants, I perceive, have put your slave up\nat four thousand pieces of gold; and I question not, but, in\nemulation of each other, they will raise the price considerably:\nlet me have her for the four thousand pieces; I am going to buy\nher for the king our lord and master; this will be a handsome\nopportunity of making your court to him: and his favour will be\nworth far more than the merchants can propose to give you.'\n\n\"Instead of returning me a civil answer, the insolent wretch,\nbeholding me with a fierce air, \"Impotent villain,\" said he, 'I\nwould rather give my slave to a Jew for nothing than to thee for\nmoney.' 'Noor ad Deen,' I replied, without passion, though I had\nsome reason to be a little warm, 'you do not consider, that by\ntalking in this manner you affront the king, who raised both your\nfather and me to the honours we have enjoyed.'\n\n\"This admonition, instead of softening him, only provoked him to\na higher degree; so that, falling upon me like a madman, without\nregard to my age or rank, he pulled me off my horse, and put me\ninto this miserable plight. I beseech your majesty to consider,\nthat it is on your account I have been so publicly affronted.\"\n\nThe abused king, highly incensed against Noor ad Deen by this\nrelation, so full of malice and artifice, discovered by his\ncountenance the violence of his anger; and turning to the captain\nof his guards, who stood near him, \"Take forty of your soldiers,\"\nsaid he, \"immediately plunder Noor ad Deen's house, and having\nordered it to be razed to the ground, bring him and his slave to\nthe presence.\"\n\nBefore the captain of the guards was gone out of the king's\npresence, an officer belonging to the court, who overheard the\norder given, hastened out. His name was Sangiar; and he had been\nformerly a slave of the vizier Khacan who had introduced him at\ncourt, where by degrees he had raised himself.\n\nSangiar, full of gratitude to his old master and affection for\nNoor ad Deen, whom he remembered a child, being no stranger to\nSaouy's hatred of Khacan's family, could not hear the order\nwithout concern. \"This action,\" said he to himself, \"may not be\naltogether so black as Saouy has represented it. He has\nprejudiced the king against him, who will certainly put him to\ndeath, without allowing him time to justify himself.\" He made so\nmuch haste to Noor ad Deen's house, as to get thither soon enough\nto acquaint him with what had passed at court, and give him time\nto provide for his own and the fair Persian's safety. He knocked\nso violently at the door, that Noor ad Deen, who had been a great\nwhile without any servant, ran immediately to open it. \"My dear\nlord,\" said Sangiar, \"there is no safety for you in Bussorah; you\nmust lose no time, but depart hence this moment.\"\n\n\"How so?\" demanded Noor ad Deen. \"What is the reason I must be\ngone so soon?\" \"Make haste away, sir,\" replied Sangiar, \"and take\nyour slave with you. In short, Saouy has been just now\nacquainting the king, after his own way of telling it, all that\npassed between you and him; and the captain of the guards will be\nhere in an instant, with forty soldiers, to seize you and the\nfair Persian. Take these forty pieces of gold to assist you in\nrepairing to some place of safety. I would give you more if I had\nit about me. Excuse my not staying any longer; I leave you with\nreluctance.\" Sangiar gave Noor ad Deen but just time to thank\nhim, and departed.\n\nNoor ad Deen acquainted the fair Persian with the absolute\nnecessity of their going that moment. She only put on her veil;\nthey both stole out of the house, and were fortunate enough not\nonly to get clear of the city, but also safely to arrive at the\nEuphrates, which was not far off, where they embarked in a vessel\nthat lay ready to weigh anchor.\n\nAs soon as they were on board, the captain came on deck amongst\nhis passengers. \"Children,\" said he to them, \"are you all here?\nhave any of you any more business to do in the city? or have you\nleft any thing behind you?\" They were all there, they answered\nhim, and ready; so that he might sail as soon as he pleased. When\nNoor ad Deen came aboard, the first question he asked was,\nwhither the vessel was bound? and being told for Bagdad, he\nrejoiced at it. The captain, having weighed anchor, set sail; and\nthe vessel, with a very favourable wind, lost sight of Bussorah.\n\nThe captain of the guards came to Noor ad Deen's house, and\nknocked at the door; but no one answering, he ordered his\nsoldiers to break it open, who immediately obeyed him, and rushed\nin. They searched the house; but neither he nor the fair Persian\nwere to be found. The captain of the guards made them inquire of\nthe neighbours; and he himself asked if they had seen them\nlately. It was all in vain; for if they had seen him go out of\nhis house, so universally beloved was Noor ad Deen by the people,\nthat not one of them would have said the least word to his\nprejudice. While they were rifling the house, and levelling it to\nthe ground, he went to acquaint the king with the news. \"Look for\nthem,\" said he, \"every where; for I am resolved to have them.\"\n\nThe captain of the guards made a second search, and the king\ndismissed the vizier Saouy with honour. \"Go home,\" said he,\n\"trouble yourself no farther to punish Noor ad Deen; I will\nrevenge your injuries.\"\n\nWithout delay the king ordered to be proclaimed throughout the\nwhole city a reward of a thousand pieces of gold for any person\nthat should apprehend Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian, also a\nsevere punishment upon those who should conceal them. No tidings\nhowever could be heard of them; and the vizier Saouy had only the\ncomfort of seeing the king espouse his quarrel.\n\nIn the mean time, Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian, after a\nprosperous voyage, landed safe at Bagdad. As soon as the captain\ncame within sight of that city, pleased that his voyage was at an\nend, \"Rejoice, my children,\" cried he to the passengers; \"yonder\nis that great and wonderful city, where there is a perpetual\nconcourse of people from all parts of the world: there you shall\nmeet with innumerable crowds, and never feel the extremity of\ncold in winter, nor the excess of heat in summer, but enjoy an\neternal spring with all its flowers, and the delicious fruits of\nautumn.\"\n\nWhen the vessel came to anchor, a little below the city, the\npassengers went ashore, each to their respective place of abode.\nNoor ad Deen gave the captain five pieces of gold for his\npassage, and went ashore also with the fair Persian; but being a\nperfect stranger in Bagdad, was at a loss for a lodging. They\nrambled a considerable time along the gardens that bordered on\nthe Tigris, and keeping close to one of them that was enclosed\nwith a very long wall, at the end of it they turned into a street\nwell paved, where they perceived a magnificent gateway and a\nfountain near it.\n\nThe inner door happened to be shut, but the portal was open, in\nwhich there was an estrade on each side. \"This is a very\nconvenient place for us,\" said Noor ad Deen to the fair Persian;\n\"night comes on apace; and though we have eaten nothing since our\nlanding, I am for passing the night here, and to-morrow we shall\nhave time enough to look for a lodging.\" \"Sir,\" replied the fair\nPersian, \"you know your wishes are mine; let us go no farther,\nsince you are willing to stay here.\" Each of them having drunk a\ndraught of water at the fountain, they laid themselves down upon\none of the estrades; and after a little chat, being soothed by\nthe agreeable murmur of the water, fell asleep.\n\nThe garden belonged to the caliph: and in the middle of it there\nwas a pavilion, called the pavilion of pictures, because its\nchief ornaments were pictures after the Persian manner, drawn by\nthe most celebrated painters in Persia, whom the caliph had sent\nfor on purpose. The stately hall within this pavilion was lighted\nby fourscore arches and a lustre in each; but these were lighted\nonly when the caliph came thither to spend the evening. On such\noccasions they made a glorious illumination, and could be seen at\na great distance in the country on that side, and by great part\nof the city.\n\nThe office of keeper of this pleasure house was at this time held\nby a very aged officer, named Scheich Ibrahim, whom the caliph,\nfor some important service, had put into that employment, with\nstrict charge not to let all sorts of people in, but especially\nto suffer no one either to sit or lie down on the estrades at the\noutward door, that they might always be clean; and whenever he\nfound any body there, to punish them severely.\n\nSome business had obliged this officer to go abroad, and he was\nnot yet returned. When he came back, there was just day-light\nenough for him to discern two persons asleep upon one of the\nestrades, with their heads under a piece of linen, to defend them\nfrom the gnats. \"Very well,\" said Scheich Ibrahim to himself;\n\"these people disobey the caliph's orders: but I will take care\nto teach them better manners.\" Upon this he opened the door very\nsoftly, and a moment after returned with a cane in his hand, and\nhis sleeve tucked up to the elbow: he was just going to lay on\nthem both with all his might, but withholding his arm, began to\nreason with himself after this manner: \"Thou wast going, without\nreflection, to strike these people, who perhaps are strangers,\ndestitute of a lodging, and utterly ignorant of the caliph's\norder; so that it would be advisable to know first who they are.\"\nUpon this he gently lifted up the linen that covered their heads,\nand was astonished to see a young man so well shaped, and a young\nwoman so beautiful; he then waked Noor ad Deen, by pulling him\nsoftly by the feet.\n\nNoor ad Deen, lifting up his head, and seeing an old man with a\nlong white beard standing at his feet, got up, and throwing\nhimself upon his knees, and taking his hand, kissed it. \"Good\nfather,\" said he, \"Heaven preserve you!\" \"What do you want, my\nson?\" replied Scheich Ibrahim; \"who are you, and whence came\nyou?\" \"We are strangers newly arrived,\" answered Noor ad Deen,\n\"and would fain tarry here till to-morrow.\" \"This is not a proper\nplace for you,\" said Scheich Ibrahim; \"come in with me, and I\nwill find one fitter for you to sleep in than this; and the sight\nof the garden, which is very fine, will please you, when you see\nit to-morrow by day light.\" \"Is this garden your own?\" asked Noor\nad Deen. \"Yes,\" replied Scheich Ibrahim, smiling; \"it is an\ninheritance left me by my father: pray walk in, for I am sure you\nwill not repent seeing it.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen rose to thank Scheich Ibrahim for the civility he\nhad strewn, as did afterwards the fair Persian; and they entered\nthe garden. Scheich Ibrahim locked the door, and going before,\nled them to a spot from whence, at one view, they might see the\ndisposition, grandeur, and beauty of the whole.\n\nNoor ad Deen had seen very fine gardens, but never any comparable\nto this. Having satisfied his curiosity, as he was walking in one\nof the walks, he turned about to the officer, and asked his name.\nAs soon as he had told him it was Scheich Ibrahim; \"Scheich\nIbrahim,\" said he to him, \"I must confess this is a charming\ngarden indeed. Heaven send you long to enjoy the pleasures of it;\nwe cannot sufficiently thank you for the favour you have done by\nshewing us a place so well worth seeing; however, it is but just\nthat we should make you some amends for your kindness; here are\ntwo pieces of gold; take them and get us something to eat, that\nwe may be merry together.\"\n\nAt the sight of the two pieces of gold, Scheich Ibrahim, who was a\ngreat admirer of that metal, laughed in his sleeve: he took them, and\nleaving Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian by themselves, went to\nprovide what was necessary; for he was alone. Said he to himself with\ngreat joy, \"these are generous people; I should have done very wrong,\nif, through imprudence, I had ill-treated and driven them away. A\ntenth part of the money will suffice to treat them; and the rest I\nwill keep for my pains.\"\n\nWhile Scheich Ibrahim was gone to fetch something for his own\nsupper, as well as for his guests Noor ad Deen and the fair\nPersian walked up and down the garden, till at last they came to\nthe pavilion of pictures. They stood awhile to admire its\nwonderful structure, size, and loftiness; and after taking a full\nview of it on every side, went up many steps of fine white marble\nto the hall-door, which they found locked.\n\nThey were but just returned to the bottom of the steps, when\nScheich Ibrahim arrived, loaded with provisions. \"Scheich\nIbrahim,\" said Noor ad Deen, in great surprise, \"did you not tell\nus that this was your garden?\" \"I did,\" replied Scheich Ibrahim,\n\"and do so still.\" \"And does this magnificent pavilion also\nbelong to you?\" Scheich Ibrahim was staggered at this unexpected\nquestion. \"If,\" said he to himself, 'I should say it is none of\nmine, they will ask me how I can be master of the garden and not\nof the pavilion.' As he had made them believe the garden was his,\nhe said the same of the pavilion. \"My son,\" said he, \"the\npavilion is not distinct from the garden; but they both belong to\nme.\" \"If so,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"since you invite us to be your\nguests to-night, do us the favour to shew us the inside of it;\nfor if we may judge by the outward appearance, it must certainly\nbe extraordinarily magnificent.\"\n\nIt would have been a great piece of incivility in Scheich Ibrahim\nto refuse this favour, after what he had already done: moreover,\nhe considered that the caliph not having given him notice,\naccording to his usual custom, it was likely he would not be\nthere that night, and therefore resolved to treat his guests, and\nsup with them in the pavilion. He laid the provisions on the\nfirst step, while he went to his apartment for the key: he soon\nreturned with a light, and opened the door.\n\nNoor ad Deen and the fair Persian entered the hall, and were\nnever tired with admiring the beauty and richness of the place.\nIndeed, without saying anything of the pictures which were\nadmirably well drawn, the sofas were very noble and costly; and\nbesides lustres suspended from every arch, there was between each\na silver branch supporting a wax candle. Noor ad Deen could not\nbehold these glorious objects without recollecting his former\nsplendour, and sighing.\n\nIn the mean time Scheich Ibrahim was getting supper ready; and\nthe cloth being laid upon a sofa, and every thing in order, Noor\nad Deen, the fair Persian, and he sat down and ate together. When\nsupper was finished, and they had washed their hands, Noor ad\nDeen opened a lattice, and calling the fair Persian to him, \"Come\nhither,\" said he, \"and with me admire the charming prospect and\nbeauty of the garden by moon-light; nothing can be more\nagreeable.\" She came to him; and they both enjoyed the view,\nwhile Scheich Ibrahim was busy in taking away the cloth.\n\nWhen Scheich Ibrahim came to his guests again, Noor ad Deen asked\nhim whether he had any liquor to treat them with. \"What liquor\nwould you have?\" replied Scheich Ibrahim--\"Sherbet? I have the\nbest in the world; but sherbet, you know, my son, is never drunk\nafter supper.\"\n\n\"I know that very well,\" said Noor ad Deen; \"it is not sherbet,\nbut another sort of liquor that we ask you for, and I am\nsurprised at your not understanding me.\" \"It is wine then you\nmean?\" said Scheich Ibrahim. \"You guess right,\" replied Noor ad\nDeen, \"and if you have any, oblige us with a bottle: you know a\nbottle after supper is a very proper companion to spend the hours\nwith till bed-time.\"\n\n\"Heaven defend me from keeping wine in my house,\" cried Scheich\nIbrahim, \"and from ever coming to a place where any is found! A\nman who, like me, has been a pilgrimage four times to Mecca, has\nrenounced wine for ever.\"\n\n\"You would do us a singular kindness,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"in\ngetting a little for our own drinking; and if it be not too much\ntrouble, I will put you in a way how you may do it, without going\ninto a vintner's shop, or so much as laying your hand upon the\nvessel that contains it.\" \"Upon that condition I will do it,\"\nreplied Scheich Ibrahim, \"only let me know what I am to do.\"\n\n\"Why then,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"we just now saw an ass tied at\nthe entrance of your garden, which certainly must be yours, and\nwhich you may make use of in this extremity: here are two pieces\nof gold more; take them, and lead your ass with the panniers to\nthe next vintner's; you may stand at as great a distance as you\nplease, do but give something to the first person that comes by,\nand desire him to go with your ass, and procure two pitchers of\nwine; put one in one pannier, in another, another, which he must\npay for out of the money you give him, and so let him bring the\nass back to you: you will have nothing to do, but to drive the\nbeast hither before you; we will take the wine out of the\npanniers: by this means you will do nothing that will give you\nany scruple.\"\n\nThe two last pieces of gold that Scheich Ibrahim was going to\nreceive wrought wonderfully upon his mind. \"Ah! my son,\" cried\nhe, \"you have an excellent contrivance; and had it not been for\nyour invention, I should never have thought of this way of\ngetting you some wine without any scruple of conscience.\" Away he\nwent to execute the orders, which he did in a little time; and,\nupon his return, Noor ad Deen taking the pitchers out of the\npanniers, carried them into the hall.\n\nScheich Ibrahim having led the ass to the place from whence he\ntook him, came back again, \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" said Noor ad Deen,\n\"we cannot enough thank you for the trouble we have already given\nyou; but we want something yet.\" \"What is that?\" replied Scheich:\n\"what more service can I do you?\" \"We have no cups to drink out\nof,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"and a little fruit, if you had any,\nwould be very acceptable.\" \"Do but say what you have a mind to,\"\nreplied Scheich Ibrahim, \"and you shall have every thing to your\nheart's content.\"\n\nDown went Scheich Ibrahim, and in a short time spread a carpet\nfor them with beautiful porcelain dishes, full of all sorts of\ndelicious fruits, besides gold and silver cups to drink out of;\nand having asked them if they wanted any thing else, he withdrew,\nthough they pressed him earnestly to stay.\n\nNoor ad Deen and the fair Persian sat down again, and drank each\na cup. They were pleased with the wine, which was excellent.\n\"Well, my dear,\" said Noor ad Deen to the fair Persian, \"are we\nnot the most fortunate persons in the world, after so many\ndangers, to meet with so charming and agreeable a place? Let us\nbe merry, and think no more on the hardships of our voyage. Can\nmy happiness be greater in this world, than to have you on one\nside of me, and my glass on the other?\" They drank freely, and\ndiverted themselves with agreeable conversation, each singing a\nsong.\n\nBoth having very fine voices, but especially the fair Persian,\ntheir singing attracted Scheich Ibrahim, who had stood hearkening\na great while on the steps, without discovering himself. He could\ncontain himself no longer; but thrusting his head in at the door,\n\"Courage, sir,\" said he to Noor ad Deen, whom he took to be quite\ndrunk, \"I am glad to see you so pleased.\"\n\n\"Ah! Scheich Ibrahim,\" cried Noor ad Deen, turning to him, \"you\nare a glorious man, and we are extremely obliged to you. We dare\nnot ask you to drink a cup; but walk in; come, sit down, and let\nus have the honour at least of your company.\" \"Go on, go on,\"\nsaid Scheich Ibrahim; \"the pleasure of hearing your songs is\nsufficient for me.\" Upon this he immediately retired.\n\nThe fair Persian perceiving Scheich Ibrahim, through one of the\nwindows, standing upon the steps, told Noor ad Deen of it. \"Sir,\"\nsaid she, \"you see what an aversion he has for wine; yet I\nquestion not in the least to make him drink, if you will do as I\nwould have you.\" Noor ad Deen asked her what it was. \"Do but say\nthe word,\" replied he, \"and I am ready to do what you please.\"\n\"Prevail with him then only to come in, and bear us company; some\ntime after fill up a bumper, and give it him; if he refuses,\ndrink it yourself, pretend to be asleep, and leave the rest to\nme.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen understood the fair Persian's design, and called to\nScheich Ibrahim, who came again to the door. \"Scheich Ibrahim,\"\nsaid he, \"we are your guests; you have entertained us in the most\nobliging manner, and will you now refuse our solicitations to\nhonour us with your company? We do not ask you to drink, but only\nthe favour of seeing you.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim being at last prevailed upon, came into the hall,\nand sat down on the edge of a sofa nearest to the door. \"You do\nnot sit well there,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"and we cannot have the\nhonour of seeing you; pray come nearer, and sit you down by the\nlady; she will like it much.\" \"I will obey you,\" replied Scheich\nIbrahim, so coming forward, simpering, to think he should be\nseated near so beautiful a creature, he placed himself at some\ndistance from the fair Persian. Noor ad Deen desired a song of\nher, in return for the honour Scheich Ibrahim had done them; and\nshe sung one that charmed him.\n\nWhen the fair Persian had ended her song, Noor ad Deen poured out\na cup of wine, and presented it to Scheich Ibrahim. \"Scheich\nIbrahim,\" said he, \"I entreat you, drink this to our healths.\"\n\"Sir,\" replied he, starting back, as if he abhorred the very\nsight of the wine, \"I beseech you to excuse me; I have already\ntold you that I have forsworn the use of wine these many years.\"\n\"Then since you will not drink our healths,\" said Noor ad Deen,\n\"give me leave to drink yours.\"\n\nWhile Noor ad Deen was drinking, the fair Persian cut half an\napple, and presented it to Scheich Ibrahim. \"Though you refused\ndrinking,\" said she, \"yet I believe you will not refuse tasting\nthis apple; it is very excellent.\" Scheich Ibrahim had no power\nto refuse it from so fair a hand; but taking it with a very low\nbow, put it in his mouth. She said a great many pleasant things\non the occasion; and Noor ad Deen, falling back upon a sofa,\npretended to fall fast asleep. The fair Persian presently\nadvanced towards Scheich Ibrahim, and speaking in a low voice,\n\"Look at him,\" said she, \"thus in all our merry parties he\nconstantly serves me; and no sooner has he drunk a cup or two,\nbut he falls asleep, and leaves me alone; but I hope you will\nhave the goodness to keep me company till he awakes.\"\n\nAt this the fair Persian took a cup, and filling it with wine,\noffered it to Scheich Ibrahim. \"Here,\" said she, \"drink off this\nto my health; I am going to pledge you.\" Scheich Ibrahim made a\ngreat many difficulties, and begged her to excuse him from\ndrinking; but she pressed him so, that overcome by her charms and\nentreaties he took the cup, and drank off every drop of the wine.\n\nThe good old man loved a chirruping cup to his heart, but was\nashamed to drink among strangers. He often went to the tavern in\nprivate, as many other people do; and he did not take the\nprecaution recommended, but went directly where he was well known\n(night serving him instead of a cloak), and saved the money that\nNoor ad Deen had ordered him to give the messenger who was to\nhave gone for the wine.\n\nWhile Scheich Ibrahim was eating fruit after his draught, the\nfair Persian filled him out another, which he received with less\ndifficulty than the former, but made none at all at the third. In\nshort, a fourth was quaffing, when Noor ad Deen started up from\nhis pretended sleep; and bursting out into a violent fit of\nlaughter, and looking at him, \"Ha! ha!\" said he, \"Scheich\nIbrahim, have I caught you at last? did you not tell me you had\nforsworn wine? and now you have drunk it all up from me.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim, not expecting to be surprised, blushed a little;\nhowever, that did not spoil his draught; but when he had done,\n\"Sir,\" said he laughing, \"if there is any crime in what I have\ndone, it lies at this fair lady's door, not mine: for who could\npossibly resist so many charms?\"\n\nThe fair Persian, who perfectly understood Noor ad Deen, took\nScheich Ibrahim's part. \"Let him talk,\" said she, \"Scheich\nIbrahim, take no notice of him, but let us drink on and be\nmerry.\" Awhile after Noor ad Deen filled out a cup for himself\nand the fair Persian; but when Scheich Ibrahim saw that Noor ad\nDeen had forgotten him in his turn, he took his cup, and\npresenting it to the fair Persian, \"Madam,\" said he, \"do you\nsuppose I cannot drink as well as you?\"\n\nAt these words Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian laughed very\nheartily. They poured him out some wine; and sat laughing, chatting,\nand drinking, till near midnight. About that hour the fair Persian\nbegan to notice that there was but one candle on the carpet. \"Scheich\nIbrahim,\" said she to the good old officer, \"you have afforded us but\none candle, when there are so many wax-lights yonder; pray do us the\nfavour to light some of them, that we may see a little better what we\nare doing.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim making use of the liberty that wine inspires when\nit gets into the head, and not caring to be interrupted in his\ndiscourse, bade the fair Persian light them herself. \"It is\nfitter for a young person like you to do it,\" said he, \"than for\nme; but be sure not to light above five or six\" Up rose the fair\nPersian immediately, and taking a wax candle in her hand, lighted\nit with that which stood upon the carpet, and without any regard\nto Scheich Ibrahim's order, lighted up the whole fourscore.\n\nBy and by, while Scheich Ibrahim was entertaining the fair\nPersian with some discourse, Noor ad Deen took his turn to desire\nhim to light up some of the candles in the lustres, not taking\nnotice that all the wax-lights were already in a blaze.\n\"Certainly,\" replied Scheich Ibrahim, \"you must be very lazy, or\nless vigorous than I am, that you are not able to light them\nyourself; get you gone, and light them; but be sure you light no\nmore than three.\" To work he went; but instead of that number, he\nlighted them all, and opened the shutters of the fourscore\nwindows, before Scheich Ibrahim, who was deeply engaged with the\nfair Persian, knew any thing of the matter.\n\nThe caliph Haroon al Rusheed being not yet gone to rest, was in a\nroom of his palace on the river Tigris, from whence he could\ncommand a view both of the garden and pavilion. He accidentally\nopened the casement, and was extremely surprised at seeing the\npavilion illuminated; and at first, by the greatness of the\nlight, thought the city was on fire. The grand vizier Jaaffier\nwas still with him, waiting for his going to rest. The caliph, in\na great rage, called the vizier to him. \"Careless vizier,\" said\nhe, \"come hither, come hither; look at the pavilion of pictures,\nand tell me the reason of its being illuminated at this hour, now\nI am not there.\"\n\nThe grand vizier at this account fell into a violent trembling;\nbut when he came nearer, and with his own eyes saw the truth of\nwhat the caliph had told him, he was more alarmed than before.\nSome excuse must be made to appease the caliph's anger.\n\"Commander of the true believers,\" said he, \"all that I can say\nto your majesty about this matter is, that some five or six days\nago Scheich Ibrahim came to acquaint me, that he had a design to\nassemble the ministers of his mosque, to assist at a ceremony he\nwas ambitious of performing in honour of your majesty's\nauspicious reign. I asked him if I could be any way serviceable\nto him in this affair; upon which he entreated me to get leave of\nyour majesty to perform the ceremony in the pavilion. I sent him\naway with leave to hold the assembly, telling him I would take\ncare to acquaint your majesty with it; and I ask pardon for\nhaving quite forgotten it.\" \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" continued he, \"has\ncertainly made choice of this day for the ceremony; and after\ntreating the ministers of his mosque, was willing to indulge them\nwith the sight of this illumination.\"\n\n\"Jaaffier,\" said the caliph, with a tone that plainly shewed his\nanger was a little mollified, \"according to your own account, you\nhave committed three faults; the first, in giving Scheich Ibrahim\nleave to perform this ceremony in my pavilion, for a person in\nsuch an office is not worthy of so great an honour; the second,\nin not acquainting me with it; and the third, in not diving into\nthe bottom of the good old man's intention. For my part, I am\npersuaded he only did it to try if he could get any money towards\nbearing the charge of it; but that never came into your head.\"\n\nThe grand vizier, overjoyed to hear the caliph put the matter\nupon that footing, very willingly owned the faults he reproached\nhim with, and freely confessed he was to blame in not giving\nScheich Ibrahim a few pieces of gold. \"Since the case is so,\"\nadded the caliph, \"it is just that thou shouldst be punished for\nthy mistakes, but thy punishment shall be light: thou shalt spend\nthe remainder of the night as I mean to do, with these honest\npeople, whose company I shall be well pleased with; and while I\nam putting on a citizen's habit, go thou and disguise thyself\nwith Mesrour, and come both of you along with me.\"\n\nThe vizier would have persuaded him it was late, and that all the\ncompany would be gone before he could get thither: but the caliph\nsaid he would positively go. The vizier, who knew that not a\nsyllable of what he had said was true, began to be in great\nconsternation; but there was no reply to be made, and go he must.\n\nThe caliph then, disguised like a citizen, with the grand vizier\nJaaffier and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs, stole out of the\npalace together. They rambled through the streets of Bagdad till\nthey came to the garden; the door, through the carelessness of\nScheich Ibrahim, was open, he having forgotten to shut it when he\ncame back with the wine. The caliph was very angry at this.\n\"Jaaffier,\" said he to the grand vizier, \"what excuse have you\nfor the door's being open at this unseasonable hour?\" \"Is it\npossible that Scheich Ibrahim makes a custom of leaving it thus\nall night? I rather believe the hurry of the feast has been the\noccasion of this neglect.\"\n\nThe caliph went into the garden; and when he came to the\npavilion, resolving not to go into the hall till he knew what was\ndoing, consulted with the grand vizier whether it was not his\nbest way to climb up into one of the trees that was near, to\nobserve what was going forward. The grand vizier casting his eyes\nupon the door, perceived it stood half open, and told the caliph.\nIt seems Scheich Ibrahim had left it so, when he was prevailed\nupon to come in and bear Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian\ncompany.\n\nThe caliph laying aside his first design, stole softly up to the\nhall-door, which standing half open, he could see all the company\nwithin, without being discovered himself.\n\nBut how was he surprised, when he saw a lady of incomparable\nbeauty and a handsome young man sitting, with Scheich Ibrahim by\nthem. Scheich Ibraham held a cup in his hand. \"My fair lady,\"\nsaid he to the fair Persian, \"a true toper never drinks without\nsinging a song first: if you please to hear, I will give you one\nof my best songs.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim sung, and the caliph was the more surprised,\nbecause till that moment he never knew of his drinking wine, but\nalways took him for a grave, solid man, as he seemed to be to\noutward appearance. The caliph retired from the door with the\nsame caution as he had made his approaches to it; and coming to\nthe grand vizier, who was standing on the steps a little lower,\n\"Come up,\" said he to him, \"and see if those within are the\nministers of the mosque, as you would have made me believe.\"\n\nBy the tone of voice in which the caliph spoke these last words,\nthe vizier understood that things went ill on his side: however,\nhe went up the steps; but when he had peeped in at the door, and\nsaw the three sitting in that condition, he trembled for his\nlife. He returned to the caliph, but in such confusion, that he\nknew not what to say. \"What riotous doings are here?\" said the\ncaliph to him: \"who are these people that have presumed to take\nthe liberty of diverting themselves in my garden and pavilion?\nand how durst Scheich Ibrahim give them admittance, and partake\nof the diversion with them? I must, however, confess, I never saw\ntwo persons more beautiful or better paired in my life; and\ntherefore, before I discover my anger, I will inform myself\nbetter, and know who they are, and the reason of their being\nhere.\" He went to the door again to observe them more narrowly;\nand the vizier, who followed, stood behind him, while he fixed\nhis eyes upon them. They both plainly heard every word that\nScheich Ibrahim said to the fair Persian. \"Is there any thing, my\ncharming lady, wanting to render the pleasure of the evening more\ncomplete?\" \"Nothing but a lute,\" replied the fair Persian, \"and\nmethinks, if you could get me one, all would be well.\" \"Can you\nplay upon it?\" said Scheich Ibrahim. \"Fetch me one,\" replied the\nfair Persian, \"and you shall hear whether I can or not.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim, without stirring very far from his place, took a\nlute out of a press, and presented it to the fair Persian, who\nbegun to tune it. The caliph, in the mean time, turning to the\ngrand vizier, \"Jaaffier,\" said he, \"the young lady is going to\nplay upon the lute; and if she performs well, I will forgive her,\nand the young man for her sake; but as for thee, I will have thee\nimpaled.\" \"Commander of the true believers,\" replied the grand\nvizier, \"if that is your intention, I wish to God she may play\nill.\" \"Why so?\" said the caliph. \"Because,\" replied the grand\nvizier, \"the longer we live in this world, the more reason we\nshall have to comfort ourselves with the hopes of dying in good\nsociable company.\" The caliph, who loved a repartee, began to\nlaugh at this; and putting his ear to the opening of the door,\nlistened to hear the fair Persian play.\n\nThe fair Persian began in such a style, that, from the first\nmoment of her touching the lute, the caliph perceived she did it\nwith a masterly hand. Afterwards accompanying the lute with her\nvoice, which was admirably fine, she sung and played with so much\nskill and sweetness, that the caliph was quite ravished to hear\nher.\n\nAs soon as the fair Persian had finished her song, the caliph\nwent down the steps, and the vizier followed him. When he came to\nthe bottom, \"I never,\" said he to the vizier, \"heard a more\ncharming voice, or a lute better touched. Isaac, whom I thought\nthe most skilful player in the world, does not come up to her. I\nam so charmed with her music, that I will go in, and hear her\nplay before me. We must, therefore, consider how I can do it.\"\n\n\"Commander of the true believers,\" said the grand vizier, \"if you\nshould go in, and Scheich Ibrahim chance to know you, he would\ninfallibly die with the fright.\" \"It is that which hurts me,\"\nreplied the caliph, \"and I should be loth to be the occasion of\nhis death, after so many years service. A thought is just come\ninto my head, that may succeed; stay here with Mesrour, and wait\nfor me in the next walk.\"\n\nThe neighbourhood of the Tigris had given the caliph an\nopportunity of turning the stream under a stately bridge into his\ngarden, through a piece of water, whither the choicest fish of\nthe river used to retire. The fishermen knew it well; but the\ncaliph had expressly charged Scheich Ibrahim not to suffer any of\nthem to come near it. However, that night, a fisherman passing by\nthe garden-door, which the caliph had left open as he found it,\nmade use of the opportunity, and going in, went directly to the\ncanal.\n\nThe fisherman immediately fell to work with his nets, and was\njust ready to draw them, when the caliph, fearing what would be\nthe effect of Scheich Ibrahim's negligence, but willing to make\nuse of it to bring his design about, came to the same place. The\nfisherman, in spite of his disguise, knew him, and throwing\nhimself at his feet, humbly implored his pardon, and excused\nhimself on account of his poverty. \"Rise,\" said the caliph, \"and\nbe not afraid; only draw your nets, that I may see what fish you\nhave got.\"\n\nThe fisherman, recovered of his fright, quickly obeyed the\ncaliph's orders. He drew out five or six very large fishes; and\nthe caliph choosing the two biggest, tied them together by the\nhead, with the twig of a tree. \"After this,\" said he to the\nfisherman, \"give me thy clothes, and take mine.\" The exchange was\nsoon made; and the caliph being dressed like a fisherman, even to\nhis boots and turban, \"Take thy nets,\" said he to the fisherman,\n\"and get thee about thy business.\"\n\nWhen the fisherman, well pleased with his good fortune, was gone,\nthe caliph, taking the two fishes in his hand, went to look after\nthe grand vizier and Mesrour; he first met Jaaffier, who, not\nknowing him, asked what he wanted, and bade him go about his\nbusiness. The caliph fell a laughing; by which the vizier\nrecognising him, \"Commander of the true believers,\" said he, \"is\nit possible it can be you? I knew you not; and I ask a thousand\npardons for my rudeness. You are so disguised that you may\nventure into the hall without any fear of being discovered by\nScheich Ibrahim.\"  \"Stay you here with Mesrour,\" said the caliph,\n\"while I go and play my part.\"\n\nThe caliph went up to the hall, and knocked at the door. Noor ad\nDeen hearing him first, told Scheich Ibrahim of it, who asked who\nwas there? The caliph opened the door, and stepping a little way\ninto the hall to shew himself, \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" said he, \"I am\nthe fisherman Kerim, who being informed of your design to treat\nsome of your friends, have brought you two very fine fishes,\nfresh caught, to ask if you have any occasion for them.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen and the fair Persian were pleased to hear him name\nfish. \"Pray,\" said the latter to Scheich Ibrahim, \"let him come\nin, that we may look at them.\" Scheich Ibrahim, by this time, was\nincapable of asking this counterfeit fisherman how or which way\nhe came thither, his whole thought being only to oblige the fair\nPersian. With much ado he turned his head towards the door, being\nquite drunk, and, in a stammering tone, calling to the caliph,\nwhom he took to be a fisherman, \"Come hither, thou nightly\nthief,\" said he, \"and let us see what thou hast got.\"\n\nThe caliph went forwards, and counterfeiting all the actions of a\nfisherman, presented the two fishes. \"These are very fine ones\nindeed,\" said the fair Persian, \"and if they were well dressed\nand seasoned, I should be glad to eat some of them.\" \"The lady is\nin the right,\" answered Scheich Ibrahim; \"but what can you do\nwith your fish, unless it were dressed? Go, dress it thyself, and\nbring it to us; thou wilt find every thing necessary in my\nkitchen.\"\n\nThe caliph went back to the grand vizier. \"Jaaffier,\" said he, \"I\nhave been very well received; but they want the fish to be\ndressed.\" \"I will take care to dress it myself,\" said the grand\nvizier, \"and they shall have it in a moment.\" \"Nay,\" replied the\ncaliph, \"so eager am I to accomplish my design, that I will take\nthat trouble myself; for since I have personated the fisherman so\nwell, surely I can play the cook for once; in my younger days, I\ndealt a little in cookery, and always came off with credit.\" So\nsaying, he went directly towards Scheich Ibrahim's lodgings, and\nthe grand vizier and Mesrour followed him.\n\nThey all fell to work; and though Scheich Ibrahim's kitchen was\nnot very large, yet there was every thing in it that they wanted.\nThe fish was quickly cooked; and the caliph served it up, putting\nto every one's place a lemon to squeeze into the sauce, if they\nthought proper. They all ate very heartily, but especially Noor\nad Deen and the fair Persian; and the caliph stood before them.\n\nAs soon as the repast was over, Noor ad Deen looking at the\ncaliph, \"Fisherman,\" said he, \"there never was better fish eaten;\nand you have done us the greatest favour.\" At the same time,\nputting his hand into his bosom, and pulling out a purse of\nthirty pieces of gold, the remainder of forty that Sangiar, the\nofficer of the king of Bussorah, had given him just upon his\ndeparture, \"Take it,\" said he to him; \"if I had any more, thou\nshouldst have it; had I known thee in my prosperity, I would have\ntaken care to secure thee from want: do not refuse the small\npresent I make thee, but accept of it as kindly as if it were\nmuch greater.\"\n\nThe caliph took the purse, thanked Noor ad Deen, and perceiving\nby the weight that it contained gold, \"Sir,\" said he to him, \"I\ncannot enough thank you for your liberality, and I think myself\nvery fortunate in having to do with a person of your generosity;\nbut before I take my leave I have a favour to ask, which I beg\nyou not to deny me. Yonder is a lute, which makes me believe that\nthe lady understands playing upon it; and if you can prevail with\nher to play but one tune, I shall go away perfectly satisfied;\nfor a lute, sir, is an instrument I am particularly fond of.\"\n\n\"Fair Persian,\" said Noor ad Deen, immediately addressing himself\nto her, \"I ask that favour of you, and I hope you will not refuse\nme.\" She took up the lute without more entreaties, and putting it\npresently in tune, played and sung with such an air, as charmed\nthe very soul of the caliph. Afterwards she played upon the lute\nwithout singing, but with so much strength and softness, as to\ntransport him into an ecstasy.\n\nWhen the fair Persian had given over playing, the caliph cried\nout, \"What a voice! what a hand! what skill! Was there ever finer\nsinging, or better playing upon the lute? Never was there any\nseen or heard like it.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, who was accustomed to give all that belonged to him\nto persons who praised him, said, \"Fisherman, I find thou hast\nsome taste for music; since thou art so delighted with her\nperformance, she is thine, I make thee a present of her.\" At the\nsame time he rose up, and taking his robe which he had laid by,\nwas going away, and leaving the caliph, whom he believed to be no\nother than a fisherman, in possession of the fair Persian.\n\nThe fair Persian was extremely surprised at Noor ad Deen's\nliberality; she took hold of him, and looking tenderly at him,\n\"Whither, sir,\" said she, \"are you going? sit down in your place,\nI entreat you, and hearken to what I am going to sing and play.\"\nHe did as she desired him, and then the fair Persian, touching\nthe lute, and looking upon him with tears in her eyes, sung some\nverses that she had made ex tempore, to reproach him with his\nindifference, and the easiness as well as cruelty with which he\nresigned her to Kerim. She only hinted, without explaining\nherself any farther to a fisherman; for she, as well as Noor ad\nDeen, was ignorant of his being the caliph. When she had done\nplaying, she put the lute down by her, and clapped a handkerchief\nto her face, to hide the tears she could not repress.\n\nNoor ad Deen made no answer to all these reproaches, but by his\nsilence seemed to declare he did not repent of what he had done\nThe caliph, surprised at what he had heard, said, \"Sir, as far as\nI see, this beautiful, rare, and accomplished lady, of whom so\ngenerously you have made me a present, is your slave?\" \"It is\nvery true, Kerim,\" replied Noor ad Deen, \"and thou wouldst be\nmore surprised than thou art now, should I tell thee all the\nmisfortunes that have happened to me upon her account.\" \"Ah! I\nbeseech you, sir,\" replied the caliph, still behaving like a\nfisherman, \"oblige me so far as to let me hear part of your\nstory.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen, who had already obliged him in several things of\nmore consequence, was so complaisant as to relate the whole story\nto him. He began with the vizier his father's buying the fair\nPersian for the king of Bussorah, and omitted nothing of what he\nhad done, or what had happened to him, from that time to their\narrival at Bagdad, and to the very moment he was talking to him.\n\nWhen Noor ad Deen had ended his story, \"And whither are you going\nnow?\" asked the caliph. \"Where Heaven shall direct me,\" answered\nNoor ad Deen. \"If you will believe me,\" replied the caliph, \"you\nshall go no farther, but, on the contrary, you must return to\nBussorah: I will write a short letter, which you shall give the\nking in my name: you shall see upon the reading it, he will give\nyou a very handsome reception, and nobody will dare to speak\nagainst you.\"\n\n\"Kerim,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"what thou hast told me is very\nsingular; I never heard that a poor fisherman, as thou art, had\nany correspondence with a king?\" \"Be not astonished at that,\"\nreplied the caliph: \"you must know, that we both studied together\nunder the same masters, and were always the best friends in the\nworld: it is true, fortune has not been equally favourable to us;\nshe has made him a king, and me a fisherman. But this inequality\nhas not lessened our friendship. He has often expressed a\nreadiness and desire to advance my fortune, but I always refused;\nand am better pleased with the satisfaction of knowing that he\nwill never deny me whatever I ask for the service and advantage\nof my friends: let me do it, and you shall see the success.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen consented to what the caliph had proposed; and there\nbeing every thing necessary for writing in the hall, the caliph\nwrote a letter to the king of Bussorah; at the top of which he\nplaced this form, \"In the name of the most merciful God,\" to shew\nhe would be absolutely obeyed.\n\n\"Haroon al Rusheed, son of Mhadi, sends this letter to Zinebi,\nhis cousin. As soon as Noor ad Deen, son to the late vizier\nKhacan, the bearer, has delivered you this letter, and you have\nread it, pull off the royal vestments, put them on his shoulders,\nand place him in thy seat without fail. Farewell.\"\n\nThe caliph folded up the letter, sealed it, and giving it to Noor\nad Deen, without saying any thing of what was in it, \"Go,\" said\nhe, \"embark immediately in a vessel that is ready to go off (as\nthere did constantly every day at the same hour); you may sleep\nwhen you are aboard.\"\n\nNoor ad Deen took the letter, and departed with the little money\nhe had about him when Sangiar gave him his purse; and the fair\nPersian, distracted with grief at his departure, retired to one\nof the sofas, and wept bitterly.\n\nNoor ad Deen was scarcely gone out of the hall, when Scheich\nIbrahim, who had been silent during the whole transaction,\nlooking steadfastly upon the caliph, whom he still took for the\nfisherman Kerim, \"Hark'e,\" said he, \"Kerim, thou hast brought us\ntwo fishes, that are worth twenty pieces of copper at most, and\nthou hast got a purse and a slave: but dost thou think to have\nall for thyself? I here declare, that I will go halves with thee\nin the slave; and as for the purse, shew me what is in the\ninside: if it is silver, thou shalt have one piece for thyself;\nbut if it is gold, I will have it all, and give thee in exchange\nsome pieces of copper which I have in my purse.\"\n\nThe caliph, before his serving up the fish, had dispatched the\ngrand vizier to his palace, with orders to get four slaves with a\nrich habit, and to wait on the other side of the pavilion till he\ngave a signal with his finger against the window. The grand\nvizier performed his commission; and he, Mesrour, and the four\nslaves, waited at the appointed place, expecting the sign.\n\nThe caliph, still personating the fisherman, answered Scheich\nIbrahim boldly, \"I know not what there is in the purse; gold or\nsilver, you shall freely go my halves: but as to the slave, I\nwill have her all to myself; and if you will not accept these\nconditions, you shall have nothing.\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim, enraged to the last degree at this insolence,\nconsidering him only as a fisherman, snatched up one of the china\ndishes which were on the table, and flung it at the caliph's\nhead. The caliph easily avoided the blow, being thrown by a\nperson in liquor; but the dish striking against the wall, was\ndashed into a thousand pieces. Scheich Ibrahim grew more enraged\nat having missed his aim, and catching up the candle that stood\nupon the table, rose from his seat, and went staggering down a\npair of back-stairs to look for a cane.\n\nThe caliph took this opportunity, and striking his hands against\nthe window, the grand vizier, Mesrour, and the four slaves were\nwith him in an instant: the slaves quickly pulled off the\nfisherman's clothes, and put him on the habit they had brought.\nThey had not quite dressed the caliph, who had seated himself on\nthe throne that was in the hall, but were busy about him when\nScheich Ibrahim, spurred on by interest, came back with a cane in\nhis hand, with which he designed to pay the pretended fisherman\nsoundly; but instead of finding him, he saw his clothes in the\nmiddle of the hall, and the caliph on his throne, with the grand\nvizier and Mesrour on each side of him. He stood awhile gazing on\nthis unexpected sight, doubting whether he was awake or asleep.\nThe caliph fell a laughing at his astonishment; and calling to\nhim, \"Scheich Ibrahim,\" said he, \"What dost thou want? whom dost\nthou look after?\"\n\nScheich Ibrahim, no longer doubting that it was the caliph,\nimmediately threw himself at his feet, with his face and long\nbeard to the ground. \"Commander of the true believers,\" cried he,\n\"your vile slave has offended you; but he implores your clemency,\nand asks a thousand pardons for his offence.\" As soon as the\nslaves had finished dressing him, he came down from his throne,\nand advancing towards him, \"Rise,\" said he, \"I forgive thee.\"\n\nThe caliph then addressed himself to the fair Persian, who had\nsuspended her sorrow as soon as she understood that the garden\nand pavilion belonged to that prince, and not to Scheich Ibrahim,\nas he had all along made her believe, and that it was he himself\ndisguised in the fisherman's clothes. \"Fair Persian,\" said he,\n\"rise, and follow me: by what you have lately seen, you ought to\nknow who I am, and to believe that I am above taking any\nadvantage of the present which Noor ad Deen, with a generosity\nnot to be paralleled, has made me of your person. I have sent him\nto Bussorah as king; and when I have given him the dispatches\nnecessary for his establishment, you shall go thither and be\nqueen. In the mean time I am going to order an apartment for you\nin my palace, where you shall be treated according to your\ndesert.\"\n\nThis discourse encouraged the fair Persian, and comforted her\nvery sensibly. The joy for the advancement of Noor ad Deen, whom\nshe passionately loved, to so high an honour, made her sufficient\namends for her affliction. The caliph kept his promise, and\nrecommended her to the care of his empress Zobeide, whom he\nacquainted with the esteem he had entertained for Noor ad Deen.\n\nNoor ad Deen's return to Bussorah was more fortunate, and\nspeedier by some days than he could have expected. Upon his\narrival, without visiting any of his friends or relations he went\ndirectly to the palace, where the king at that time was giving\npublic audience. With the letter held up in his hand, he pressed\nthrough the crowd, who presently made way for him to come forward\nand deliver it. The king took and opened it, and his colour\nchanged in reading it; he kissed it thrice, and was just about to\nobey the caliph's orders, when he bethought himself of shewing\nit to the vizier Saony, Noor ad Deen's irreconcilable enemy.\n\nSaouy, who had discovered Noor ad Deen, and began to conjecture,\nwith great uneasiness, what might be the design of his coming,\nwas no less surprised than the king at the order contained in the\nletter; and being as much concerned in it, he instantly devised a\nmethod to evade it. He pretended not to have read the letter\nquite through, and therefore desiring a second view of it, turned\nhimself a little on one side as if he wanted a better light, and,\nwithout being perceived by any body, dexterously tore off from\nthe top of it the form which shewed the caliph would be\nabsolutely obeyed, and putting it into his mouth, swallowed it.\n\nAfter this egregious piece of villainy, Saouy turned to the king,\nand giving him the letter, \"Sir,\" said he to him in a low voice,\n\"what does your majesty intend to do?\" \"What the caliph has\ncommanded me,\" replied the king. \"Have a care, sir,\" said the\nwicked vizier, \"what you do. It is true this is the caliph's\nhand, but the form is not to it.\" The king had observed it, but\nin his confusion thought his eyes had deceived him when he saw it\nwas gone.\n\n\"Sir,\" continued the vizier, \"we have no reason to doubt but that\nthe caliph, on the complaints he has made against your majesty\nand myself, has granted him this letter to get rid of him, and\nnot with any intention of having the order contained in it\nexecuted. Besides, we must consider he has sent no express with a\npatent; and without that the order is of no force. And since a\nking like your majesty was never deposed without that formality,\nany other man as well as Noor ad Deen might come with a forged\nletter: let who will bring such a letter as this, it ought not to\nbe put in execution. Your majesty may depend upon it, that is\nnever done; and I will take upon myself all the consequence of\ndisobeying this order.\"\n\nKing Zinebi, easily persuaded by this pernicious counsel, left\nNoor ad Deen entirely to the discretion of the vizier Saouy, who\nled him to his house in a very insulting manner; and after\ncausing him to be bastinadoed till he was almost dead, he ordered\nhim to a prison, where he commanded him to be put into the\ndarkest and deepest dungeon, with a strict charge to the gaoler\nto give him nothing but bread and water.\n\nWhen Noor ad Deen, half dead with the strokes, came to himself,\nand found what a dismal dungeon he was in, he bewailed his\nmisfortunes in the most pathetic manner. \"Ah! fisherman,\" cried\nhe, \"how hast thou cheated me; and how easy have I been in\nbelieving thee! Could I, after the civility I shewed thee, expect\nsuch inhuman and barbarous usage? However, may Heaven reward\nthee; for I cannot persuade myself that thy intention was so\nbase; and I will with patience wait the end of my afflictions.\"\n\nThe disconsolate Noor ad Deen remained six whole days in this\nmiserable condition; and Saouy did not forget that he had\nconfined him there; but being resolved to put him to a shameful\ndeath, and not daring to do it by his own authority, to\naccomplish his villainous design, loaded some of his slaves with\nrich presents, which he, at the head of them, went and presented\nto the king. \"Behold, sire,\" said he, with the blackest malice,\n\"what the new king has sent you upon his accession to the crown,\nand begs your majesty to accept.\"\n\nThe king taking the matter just as Saouy intended, \"What!\"\nreplied he, \"is that wretch still living? I thought you had put\nhim to death already.\" \"Sire, I have no power,\" answered the\nvizier, \"to take any person's life; that only belongs to your\nmajesty.\" \"Go,\" said the king, \"behead him instantly; I give you\nfull authority.\" \"Sire,\" replied the vizier Saouy, \"I am\ninfinitely obliged to your majesty for the justice you do me; but\nsince Noor ad Deen has publicly affronted me, I humbly beg the\nfavour, that his execution may be performed before the palace;\nand that the criers may publish it in every quarter of the city,\nso that every body may be satisfied he has made a sufficient\nreparation for the affront.\" The king granted his request; and\nthe criers in performing their office diffused universal sorrow\nthrough the whole city. The memory of his father's virtues being\nyet fresh among them, no one could hear, without horror and\nindignation, that the son was going to suffer an ignominious\ndeath.\n\nSaouy went in person to the prison, accompanied by twenty slaves,\nministers of his cruelty, who took Noor ad Deen out of the\ndungeon, and put him upon a shabby horse without a saddle. When\nNoor ad Deen saw himself in the hands of his enemy, \"Thou\ntriumphest now,\" said he, \"and abusest thy power; but I trust in\nthe truth of what is written in our scripture, 'You judge\nunjustly, and in a little time you shall be judged yourself.'\"\nThe vizier Saouy triumphed in his heart. \"What! insolent,\" said\nhe, \"darest thou insult me yet? but I care not what may happen to\nme, so I have the pleasure of seeing thee lose thy head in the\npublic view of all Bussorah. Thou oughtest also to remember what\nanother of our books says, 'What signifies if one dies the next\nday after the death of his enemy?'\"\n\nThe vizier, implacable in his hatred and enmity, surrounded by\nhis slaves in arms, conducted Noor ad Deen towards the palace.\nThe people were ready to fall upon him as he passed; and if any\none had set the example, would certainly have stoned him to\ndeath. When he had brought him to the place of suffering, which\nwas to be in sight of the king's apartment, he left him in the\nexecutioner's hands, and went straight to the king, who was in\nhis closet, ready to glut his eyes with the bloody spectacle he\nhad prepared.\n\nThe king's guard and the vizier's slaves, who made a circle round\nNoor ad Deen, had much trouble to withstand the people, who made\nall possible efforts to break through, and carry him off by\nforce. The executioner coming up to him, said, \"I hope you will\nforgive me, I am but a slave, and cannot help doing my duty. If\nyou have no occasion for any thing more, I beseech you to prepare\nyourself; for the king is just going to give me orders to strike\nthe blow.\"\n\nThe unfortunate Noor ad Deen, at that moment, looking round upon\nthe people, \"Will no charitable body,\" cried he, \"bring me a\nlittle water to quench my thirst?\" Which immediately they did,\nand handed it up to him upon the scaffold. The vizier Saouy\nperceiving this delay, called out to the executioner from the\nking's closet window, where he had planted himself, \"Strike, what\ndost thou stay for?\" At these inhuman words the whole place\nechoed with loud imprecations against him; and the king, jealous\nof his authority, made it appear, by enjoining him to stop\nawhile, that he was angry at his presumption. But there was\nanother reason; for the king that very moment casting his eye\ntowards a street that faced him, saw a troop of horsemen\nadvancing full speed towards the palace. \"Vizier,\" said the king\nimmediately, \"look yonder; what is the meaning of those\nhorsemen?\" Saouy, who knew not who they might be, earnestly\npressed the king to give the executioner the sign. \"No,\" replied\nthe king; \"I will first know who those horsemen are.\" It was the\nvizier Jaaffier, with his train, who came in person from Bagdad\nby the caliph's order.\n\nTo understand the occasion of this minister's coming to Bussorah,\nwe must observe, that after Noor ad Deen's departure with the\nletter, the caliph the next day, nor for several days after,\nthought not of sending him the patent which he mentioned to the\nfair Persian. He happened one day to be in the inner palace,\nwhich was that of the women, and passing by her apartment, heard\nthe sound of a fine voice: he listened to it; and he had no\nsooner heard the words of one complaining for the absence of\nsomebody, than he asked the officer of the eunuchs who attended\nhim who the woman was that lived in that apartment? The officer\ntold him it was the young stranger's slave whom he had sent to\nBussorah to be king in the room of Mahummud Zinebi.\n\n\"Ah! poor Noor ad Deen,\" cried the caliph, \"I had forgotten thee; but\nhasten,\" said he to the officer, \"and bid Jaaffier come to me.\" The\nvizier was with him in an instant. As soon as he came, \"Jaaffier,\"\nsaid he, \"I have hitherto neglected sending the patent which was to\nconfirm Noor ad Deen king of Bussorah; but we have no time now to draw\nup one; therefore immediately take post-horses, and with some of your\nservants, make what haste you can to that city. If Noor ad Deen is no\nlonger alive, but put to death by them, order the vizier Saouy to be\nimpaled; but if he is living, bring him to me with the king and the\nvizier.\"\n\nThe grand vizier stayed no longer than just to get on horseback;\nand being attended by a great train of officers belonging to his\nhousehold departed for Bussorah, where he arrived in the manner\nand at the time already mentioned. As soon as he came to the\npalace-yard, the people cleared the way for him, crying out, \"A\npardon for Noor ad Deen!\" and with his whole train he rode into\nthe palace, even to the very stairs, where he alighted.\n\nThe king of Bussorah, knowing him to be the caliph's chief\nminister, went to meet him, and received him at the entrance of\nhis apartment. The first question the vizier asked was, If Noor\nad Deen was living? and if he was, he desired that he might be\nsent for. The king made answer, he was alive, and gave orders to\nhave him brought in. Accordingly he soon made his appearance as\nhe was, bound with cords. The grand vizier Jaaffier caused him to\nbe unbound, and setting him at liberty, ordered the vizier Saouy\nto be seized, and bound him with the same cords.\n\nThe grand vizier remained but one night at Bussorah; and, according to\nthe order he had received, carried Saouy, the king of Bussorah, and\nNoor ad Deen, along with him. Upon his arrival at Bagdad, he presented\nthem to the caliph: and after he had given him an account of his\njourney, and particularly the miserable condition in which he found\nNoor ad Deen, and his ill-usage by the advice and malice of Saony, the\ncaliph desired Noor ad Deen to behead the vizier himself. \"Commander\nof the true believers,\" said the generous youth, \"notwithstanding the\ninjury this wicked man has done me, and the mischief he endeavoured to\ndo my deceased father, I should think myself the basest of mankind if\nI stained my hands with his blood.\" The caliph was pleased with his\ngenerosity, and ordered justice to be done by the executioner.\n\nThe caliph would fain have sent Noor ad Deen to Bussorah as king:\nbut he humbly begged to be excused from accepting the offer.\n\"Commander of the true believers,\" said Noor ad Deen, \"the city\nof Bussorah, after the misfortunes that have happened to me\nthere, will be so much my aversion, that I beseech your majesty\nto give me leave to keep the oath which I have made, of never\nreturning thither again; and I shall think it my greatest glory\nto serve near your royal person, if you are pleased to allow me\nthe honour.\" The caliph consented; and placing him among the\nnumber of those courtiers who were his greatest favourites,\nrestored the fair Persian to him again. To all these favours he\nadded a plentiful fortune; and he and the fair Persian lived\ntogether thenceforth, with all the happiness this world could\nafford.\n\nAs for the king of Bussorah, the caliph contented himself with\nhinting how careful he ought to be in the choice of his viziers,\nand sent him back to his kingdom.\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Volume 2.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                    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                    Contents of Volume III.\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 Merchant of Bagdad\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\n\"The 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 soon 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\ndeparted 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 quitted\nhis grandmother so hastily, without staying to hear from her an\nexplanation of the news that had been brought. But he was, on the\nother hand, overjoyed to find that the king his uncle had rendered\nhimself master of the king of Samandal's person, not doubting but he\nwould consent to give up the princess for his liberty. \"Adorable\nprincess,\" continued he, \"your concern is most just, but it is easy to\nput an end both to that and your father's captivity. You will agree\nwith me, when I shall tell you that I am Beder, king of Persia, and\nKing Saleh is my uncle: I assure you, madam, he has no design to seize\nthe king your father's dominions; his only intention is to obtain your\nfather's consent, that I may have the honour and happiness of being\nhis son-in-law. I had already given my heart to you, upon the bare\nrelation of your beauty and charms; and now, far from repenting, I beg\nof you to accept it, and to be assured that I will love you as long as\nI live. I dare flatter myself you will not refuse this favour, but be\nready to acknowledge that a king, who quitted his dominions purely on\nyour account, deserves some acknowledgment. Permit me then, beauteous\nprincess! to have the honour to present you to the king my uncle; and\nthe king your father shall no sooner have consented to our marriage,\nthan King Saleh will leave him sovereign 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 kindness 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 laid 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 of a 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             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           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\nPirouze, 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 Pirouze\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 Pirouze 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\nPirouze 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 Pirouze 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 Pirouze, 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\nPirouze, \"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.\"\nPirouze 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.  Pirouze'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 Pirouze'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             The 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 Pirouze 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 Pirouze 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 Pirouze, 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 Pirouze; 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 Pirouze.\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 Pirouze 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 Pirouze'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 Pirouze; 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 Pirouze 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 Pirouze\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, Pirouze 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, Pirouze 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 Pirouze 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 Pirouze 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 Pirouze's apartment, the vizier following him.  He\nasked the princess where Codadad's widow had taken up her\nlodging?  Pirouze'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\nPirouze'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.  Pirouze 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 Pirouze\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.  Pirouze'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            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, 'How\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\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 shewing 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 words\nof the grand vizier, never doubted but that he was caliph, as he\nwished to be; and without examining any farther, how or by what\nadventure, or sudden change of fortune, he had become so, immediately\nbegan to exercise his power, and looking very gravely at the vizier,\nasked him what he had to say? \"Commander of the faithful,\" replied the\ngrand vizier, \"the emirs, Vizier, and other officers of your council,\nwait without till your majesty gives them leave to pay their\naccustomed respects.\" Abou Hassan ordered the door to be opened, and\nthe grand vizier addressing himself to the officers in waiting, said,\n\"Chief of the door-keepers, the commander of the faithful orders you\nto do your duty.\"\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'This 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 but\nwater, according to the custom observed at Bagdad, from the highest to\nthe lowest and at the caliph's court, never to drink wine till the\nevening; all who transgress this rule being accounted debauchees, who\ndare not shew themselves in the day-time. This custom is the more\nlaudable, as it requires a clear head to apply to business in the\ncourse of the day; and as no wine is drunk till evening, no drunken\npeople are seen in the streets in open day creating disturbance in the\ncity.\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, \"I 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, 'That 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 'walls 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, 'Take 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 horror. He\npitied Abou Hassan, and felt sorry he had carried the jest so far.\n\"Come, rise, dear brother,\" said he to him eagerly, and embracing Abou\nHassan heartily in his arms; \"let me go to your house, and enjoy the\nhappiness of being merry with you to-night; and to-morrow, if it\nplease 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 pleasant 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, while I\nprepare a winding sheet. I know how to bury as well as any body; for\nwhile I was in Zobeide's service, when any of my fellow-slaves died, I\nhad the conducting of the funeral.\" Abou Hassan did as his wife\nmentioned, and laid himself on the sheet which she had spread on the\ncarpet in the middle of the room. As soon as he had crossed his arms,\nhis wife wrapped him up, turned his feet towards Mecca, and put a\npiece of fine muslin and his turban upon his face, so that nothing\nseemed wanting but to carry him out to be buried. After this she\npulled off her head-dress, and with tears in her eyes, her hair\ndishevelled, and seeming to tear it off, with a dismal cry and\nlamentation, beating her face and breast with all the marks of the\nmost lively grief, ran across the court to Zobeide's apartments, who,\nhearing the voice of a person crying very loud, commanded some of her\nwomen to see who it was; they returned and told her that it was\nNouzhatoul-aouadat, 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-chamber.\nNouzhatoul-aouadat played her part to perfection. As soon as she saw\nZobeide, who held the door open, she redoubled her cries, tore her\nhair off by handfuls, beat her face and breast, and threw herself at\nher feet, bathing them with her tears.\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 speaking\nto Mesrour, said, \"Go immediately, see which it is, and bring me word;\nfor though I am certain that it is Nouzhatoul-aouadat, I would rather\ntake this method than be any longer obstinately positive about the\nmatter, though of its certainty I am perfectly satisfied.\" No sooner\nhad the caliph commanded than Mesrour was gone. \"You will see,\"\ncontinued he, addressing himself to Zobeide, \"in a moment, which of us\nis right.\" \"For my part,\" replied Zobeide, \"I know very well that I am\nin the right, and you will find it to be Abou Hassan.\" \"And for\nmyself,\" returned the caliph, \"I am so sure that it is\nNouzhatoul-aouadat, that I will lay you what wager you please that\nAbou Hassan is well.\"\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 to\nthe memory of the deceased. He lifted up the cloth a little at the\nhead, and peeping under it, let it down again, and said, with a deep\nsigh, \"There is no other God but Allah, we must all submit to his\nwill, and every creature must return to him. Nouzhatoul-aouadat, my\ngood sister,\" added he, sighing, \"thy days have been few: God have\nmercy on thee.\" Then turning to Abou Hassan, who was all the time in\ntears, \"We may well say,\" added he, \"that women sometimes have whims,\nand lose their senses in a most unpardonable manner; for Zobeide, good\nmistress as she is, is in that situation at present; she will maintain\nto the caliph that you are dead, and not your wife; and whatever the\ncaliph can say to the contrary, he cannot persuade her otherwise. He\ncalled me to witness and confirm this truth; for you know I was\npresent when you came and told him the sorrowful news: but all\nsignifies nothing. 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 her 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 'Women 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\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-aouadat\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\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               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, Alla ad\nDeen ran to his mother, overjoyed at the money his uncle had given\nhim. \"Mother,\" said he, \"have I an uncle?\" \"No, child,\" replied his\nmother, \"you have no uncle by your father's side, or mine.\" \"I am just\nnow come,\" said Alla ad Deen, \"from a man who says he is my uncle by\nmy father's side, assuring me that he is his brother. He cried and\nkissed me when I told him my father was dead; and to shew you that\nwhat I tell you is truth,\" added he, pulling out the money, \"see what\nhe has given me. He charged me to give his love to you, and to tell\nyou, if he has any time to-morrow, he will come and pay you a visit,\nthat he may see the house my father lived and died in.\" \"Indeed,\nchild,\" replied the mother, \"your father had a brother, but he has\nbeen dead a long time, 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, Alla 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 and\ngreat rejoicings till midnight, when the grand vizier's son, on a\nsignal given him by the chief of the princess's eunuchs, slipped away\nfrom the company, and was introduced by that officer into the\nprincess's apartment, where the nuptial bed was prepared. He went to\nbed first, and in a little time after, the sultaness, accompanied by\nher own women, and those of the princess, brought the bride, who,\naccording to the custom of new-married ladies, made great resistance.\nThe sultaness herself helped to undress her, put her into bed by a\nkind of violence: and after having kissed her, and wished her good\nnight, retired with 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. \"Take\nthis new-married man,\" said he to the genie, \"shut him up in the\nout-house, and come again tomorrow morning before day-break.\" The\ngenie instantly forced the vizier's son out of bed, carried him\nwhither Alla ad Deen had commanded him; and after he had breathed upon\nhim, which prevented him stirring, left him there.\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 palace,\nwas sure the new-married couple were to sleep together again,\nnotwithstanding the troublesome adventure of the night before; and\ntherefore, having as great an inclination to disturb them, had\nrecourse to his lamp, and when the genie appeared, and offered his\nservice, he said to him, \"The grand vizier's son and the princess\nBuddir al Buddoor are to sleep together again to-night: go, and as\nsoon as they are in bed, bring the bed hither, as thou didst\nyesterday.\"\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 windows, and\ncounting them, found that there were but three-and-twenty so richly\nadorned, and he was greatly astonished that the twenty-fourth was left\nimperfect. \"Vizier,\" said he, for that minister made a point of never\nleaving him, \"I am surprised that a hall of this magnificence should\nbe left thus imperfect.\" \"Sir,\" replied the grand vizier, \"without\ndoubt Alla ad Deen only wanted time to finish this window like the\nrest; for it is not to be supposed but that he has sufficient jewels\nfor the purpose, or that he will not complete it the first\nopportunity.\"\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\nAlla 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 palace,\nand were introduced into the sultan's presence; where the chief\njeweller, presenting the precious stones which he had brought back,\nsaid, in the name of all the rest, \"Your majesty knows how long we\nhave been upon the work you were pleased to set us about, in which we\nused all imaginable industry. It was far advanced, when prince Alla ad\nDeen commanded us not only to leave off, but to undo what we had\nalready begun, and bring your majesty your jewels back.\" The sultan\nasked them if Alla ad Deen had given them any reason for so doing, and\nthey answering that he had given them none, he ordered a horse to be\nbrought, which he mounted, and rode to his son-in law's palace, with\nsome few attendants on foot. When he came there, he alighted at the\nstair-case, 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 least 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, \"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 villainies. 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\nFrom 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 sultan\nwent, by break of day, into his closet to indulge his sorrows.\nAbsorbed in himself, and in a pensive mood, he cast his eyes towards\nthe spot, expecting only to see an open space; but perceiving the\nvacancy filled up, he at first imagined the appearance to be the\neffect of a fog; looking more attentively, he was convinced beyond the\npower of doubt it was his son-in-law's palace. Joy and gladness\nsucceeded to sorrow and grief. He returned immediately into his\napartment, and ordered a horse to be saddled and brought to him\nwithout delay, which he mounted that instant, thinking he could not\nmake haste enough to the palace.\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 fear.\n\"Do not be so much frightened,\" said the magician; \"I only want your\nhabit, give it me and take mine.\" Accordingly Fatima and he changed\nclothes. He then said to her, \"Colour my face, that I may be like\nyou;\" but perceiving that the poor creature could not help trembling,\nto encourage her he said, \"I tell you again you need not fear\nanything: I swear by the name of God I will not take away your life.\"\nFatima lighted her lamp, led him into the cell, and dipping a soft\nbrush in a certain liquor, rubbed it over his face, assured him the\ncolour would not change, and that his face was of the same hue as her\nown: after which, she put her own head-dress on his head, also a veil,\nwith which she shewed him how to hide his face as he passed through\nthe town. 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 stick\nshe used to walk with in his hand, brought him a looking-glass, and\nbade him look if he was not as like her as possible. The magician\nfound himself disguised as he wished to be; but he did not keep the\noath he so solemnly swore to the good Fatima; but instead of stabbing\nher, for fear the blood might discover him, he strangled her; and when\nhe found she was dead, threw her body 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, who\nreceived neither good nor harm from this imposition of hands, he came\nat last to the square before Alla ad Deen's palace. The crowd was so\ngreat that the eagerness to get at him increased in proportion. Those\nwho were the most zealous and strong forced their way through the\ncrowd. There were such quarrels, and so great a noise, that the\nprincess, who was in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, heard it,\nand asked what was the matter; but nobody being able to give her an\nanswer, she ordered them to inquire and inform her. One of her women\nlooked out of a window, and then told her it was a great crowd of\npeople collected about the holy woman to be cured of the headache by\nthe imposition of her 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               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\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\n                    The 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 I\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                     The 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 laid, 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 had\ntime enough to see from a window that looked into my court-yard, that\nshe opened the street-door and went out.\n\nI immediately ran down to the door, which she had left half open, and\nfollowed her by moonlight, till I saw her enter a burying-ground just\nby our house. I got to the end of the wall, taking care not to be\nseen, 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 walking in\nthe gardens, and thinking what I should do to oblige my wife to change\nher mode of living. I rejected all the violent measures that suggested\nthemselves to my thoughts, and resolved to use gentle means to cure\nher unhappy and depraved inclination. In this state of reverie I\ninsensibly reached home by dinner-time.\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\nconducted 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-of\nbaker's dog, that can tell good money from bad. You know I gave you my\nopinion respecting him when I first heard of him, and told you, I\nfancied he was a man changed into a dog by some wicked magician.\nTo-day I determined to go to that baker for some bread, and was myself\na witness of the wonders performed by this dog, who has made such a\nnoise in Bagdad. What say you, daughter, am I deceived in my\nconjecture?\" \"Mother, you are not,\" answered the daughter, \"and I will\ndisenchant 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: 'Receive 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              The 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 forgotten\nwhat you said to me, there is a man,\" pointing to me, \"whom I can\nremember a long time working at his trade of rope-making, and in the\nsame poverty: he is a worthy subject for your liberality, and a proper\nperson to make your experiment upon.\" \"I so well remember the\nconversation,\" replied Saadi, \"that I have ever since carried a\nsufficient sum about me for the purpose, but only waited for an\nopportunity of our being together, that you might be witness of the\nfact. Let us go to him, and know if he is really 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\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 pleased\nGod that you should not part from me without being fully convinced of\nthe truth of what I have assured you. There are the other hundred and\nninety pieces of gold which you gave me,\" continued I, addressing\nmyself to Saadi; \"I know it well by the cloth, which I tied up with my\nown hands;\" and then I told out the money before them. I ordered the\npot to be brought to me, knew it to be the same; and sent to my wife\nto ask if she recognized it, ordering them to say nothing to her of\nwhat had happened. She knew it immediately, and sent me word that it\nwas the same pot she had exchanged full of bran for the\nscouring-earth.\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              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 by, but\nwas not then at home; and addressing herself to his wife, desired her\nto lend her a measure for a little while. Her sister-in-law asked her,\nwhether she would have a great or a small one? The other asked for a\nsmall one. She bade her stay a little, and she would readily fetch\none.\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?\"\nCassim, 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 keep\nthe business secret, was the more easily persuaded to believe her\nbrother-in-law. She went home again, and waited patiently till\nmidnight. Then her fear redoubled, and her grief was the more sensible\nbecause she was forced to keep it to herself. She repented of her\nfoolish curiosity, and cursed her desire of penetrating into the\naffairs of her brother and sister-in-law. She spent all the night in\nweeping; and as soon as it was day, went to them, telling them, by her\ntears, the cause of her coming.\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 Baba\nwent to speak to Morgiana he withdrew into the yard, under pretence of\nlooking at his mules. Ali Baba, after charging Morgiana afresh to take\ncare of his guest, said to her, \"To-morrow morning I design to go to\nthe bath before day; take care my bathing-linen be ready, give them to\nAbdoollah,\" which was the slave's name, \"and make me some good broth\nagainst I return.\" After 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, 'Is it time?' Without being\ndismayed, and comprehending immediately the malicious intention\nof the pretended oil-merchant, I answered, 'Not 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 be so\nbold as to ask you?\" \"It is,\" answered Khaujeh Houssain, \"that I can\neat no victuals that have any salt in them; therefore judge how I\nshould feel at your table.\" \"If that is the only reason,\" said Ali\nBaba, \"it ought not to deprive me of the honour of your company at\nsupper; for, in the first place, there is no salt ever put into my\nbread, and as to the meat we shall have to-night, I promise you there\nshall be none in that. Therefore you must do me the favour to stay. I\nwill 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            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\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 left 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\nEnd of Volume 3.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                    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 4\n\n\n                             London\n                      Pickering and Chatto\n                              1890\n\n\n\n\n                     Contents of Volume IV.\n\n\nThe Story of the Enchanted Horse\nThe Story of Prince Ahmed, and the Fairy Perie Banou\nThe Story of the Sisters Who Envied Their Younger Sister\nStory of the Three Sharpers and the Sultan\n     The Adventures of the Abdicated Sultan\n     History of Mahummud, Sultan of Cairo\n     Story of the First Lunatic\n     Story of the Second Lunatic\n     Story of the Retired Sage and His Pupil, Related to the\n          Sultan by the Second Lunatic\n     Story of the Broken-backed Schoolmaster\n     Story of the Wry-mouthed Schoolmaster\n     Story of the Sisters and the Sultana Their Mother\nStory of the Bang-eater and the Cauzee\n     Story of the Bang-eater and His Wife\nThe Sultan and the Traveller Mhamood Al Hyjemmee\n     The Koord Robber\n     Story of the Husbandman\n     Story of the Three Princes and Enchanting Bird\n     Story of a Sultan of Yemen and His Three Sons\n     Story of the First Sharper in the Cave\n     History of the Sultan of Hind\nStory of the Fisherman's Son\nStory of Abou Neeut and Abou Neeuteen; Or, the Well-intentioned\n     and the Double-minded\nAdventure of a Courtier, Related by Himself to His Parton, an\nAmeer of Egypt\nStory of the Prince of Sind, and Fatima, Daughter of Amir Bin\nNaomaun\nStory of the Lovers of Syria; Or, the Heroine\nStory of Hyjauje, the Tyrannical Governor of Coufeh, and the\nYoung Syed\nStory of Ins Alwujjood and Wird Al Ikmaum, Daughter of Ibrahim,\n     Vizier to Sultan Shamikh\nThe Adventures of Mazin of Khorassaun\nStory of the Sultan the Dervish, and the Barber's Son\nAdventures of Aleefa Daughter of Mherejaun Sultan of Hind, and\n     Eusuff, Son of Sohul, Sultan of Sind\nAdventures of the Three Princes, Sons of the Sultan of China\nStory of the Good Vizier Unjustly Imprisoned\nStory of the Lady of Cairo and Her Four Gallants\n     The Cauzee's Story\nStory of the Merchant, His Daughter, and the Prince of Eerauk\nAdventures of the Cauzee, His Wife, &c\n     The Sultan's Story of Himself\nConclusion\n\n\n\n\n               THE STORY OF THE ENCHANTED HORSE.\n\n\n\nThe Nooroze, or the new day, which is the first of the year and\nspring, is observed as a solemn festival throughout all Persia,\nwhich has been continued from the time of idolatry; and our\nprophet's religion, pure as it is, and true as we hold it, has\nnot been able to abolish that heathenish custom, and the\nsuperstitious ceremonies which are observed, not only in the\ngreat cities, but celebrated with extraordinary rejoicings in\nevery little town, village, and hamlet.\n\nBut the rejoicings are the most splendid at the court, for the\nvariety of new and surprising spectacles, insomuch that strangers\nare invited from the neighbouring states, and the most remote\nparts, by the rewards and liberality of the sovereign, towards\nthose who are the most excellent in their invention and\ncontrivance. In short, nothing in the rest of the world can\ncompare with the magnificence of this festival.\n\nOne of these festival days, after the most ingenious artists of\nthe country had repaired to Sheerauz, where the court then\nresided, had entertained the king and all the court with their\nproductions, and had been bountifully and liberally rewarded\naccording to their merit and to their satisfaction by the\nmonarch; when the assembly was just breaking up, a Hindoo\nappeared at the foot of the throne, with an artificial horse\nrichly caparisoned, and so naturally imitated, that at first\nsight he was taken for a living animal.\n\nThe Hindoo prostrated himself before the throne; and pointing to the\nhorse, said to the emperor, \"Though I present myself the last before\nyour majesty, yet I can assure you that nothing shewn to-day is so\nwonderful as this horse, on which I beg your majesty would be pleased\nto cast your eyes.\" \"I see nothing more in the horse,\" said the\nemperor, \"than the natural resemblance the workman has given him;\nwhich the skill of another workman may possibly execute as well or\nbetter.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the Hindoo, \"it is not for his outward form and\nappearance that I recommend my horse to your majesty's\nexamination as wonderful, but the use to which I can apply him,\nand which, when I have communicated the secret to them, any other\npersons may make of him. Whenever I mount him, be it where it\nmay, if I wish to transport myself through the air to the most\ndistant part of the world, I can do it in a very short time.\nThis, sir, is the wonder of my horse; a wonder which nobody ever\nheard speak of, and which I offer to shew your majesty, if you\ncommand me.\"\n\nThe emperor of Persia, who was fond of every thing that was\ncurious, and notwithstanding the many prodigies of art he had\nseen had never beheld or heard of anything that came up to this,\ntold the Hindoo, that nothing but the experience of what he\nasserted could convince him: and that he was ready to see him\nperform what he had promised.\n\nThe Hindoo instantly put his foot into the stirrup, mounted his\nhorse with admirable agility, and when he had fixed himself in\nthe saddle, asked the emperor whither he pleased to command him.\n\nAbout three leagues from Sheerauz there was a lofty mountain\ndiscernible from the large square before the palace, where the\nemperor, his court, and a great concourse of people, then were.\n\"Do you see that mountain?\" said the emperor, pointing to it; \"it\nis not a great distance from hence, but it is far enough to judge\nof the speed you can make in going and returning. But because it\nis not possible for the eye to follow you so far, as a proof that\nyou have been there, I expect that you will bring me a branch of\na palm-tree that grows at the bottom of the hill.\"\n\nThe emperor of Persia had no sooner declared his will than the\nHindoo turned a peg, which was in the hollow of the horse's neck,\njust by the pummel of the saddle; and in an instant the horse\nrose off the ground and carried his rider into the air with the\nrapidity of lightning to such a height, that those who had the\nstrongest sight could not discern him, to the admiration of the\nemperor and all the spectators. Within less than a quarter of an\nhour they saw him returning with the palm branch in his hand; but\nbefore he descended, he took two or three turns in the air over\nthe spot, amid the acclamations of all the people; then alighted\non the spot whence he had set off, without receiving the least\nshock from the horse to disorder him. He dismounted, and going up\nto the throne, prostrated himself, and laid the branch of the\npalm-tree at the feet of the emperor.\n\nThe emperor, who had viewed with no less admiration than\nastonishment this unheard-of sight which the Hindoo had\nexhibited, conceived a great desire to have the horse; and as he\npersuaded himself that he should not find it a difficult matter\nto treat with the Hindoo, for whatever sum of money he should\nvalue it at, began to regard it as the most valuable thing in his\ntreasury. \"Judging of thy horse by his outward appearance,\" said\nhe to the Hindoo, \"I did not think him so much worth my\nconsideration. As you have shewn me his merits, I am obliged to\nyou for undeceiving me; and to prove to you how much I esteem it,\nI will purchase him of you, if he is to be sold.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the Hindoo, \"I never doubted that your majesty,\nwho has the character of the most liberal prince on earth, would\nset a just value on my work as soon as I had shewn you on what\naccount he was worthy your attention. I also foresaw that you\nwould not only admire and commend it, but would desire to have\nit. Though I know his intrinsic value, and that my continuing\nmaster of him would render my name immortal in the world; yet I\nam not so fond of fame but I can resign him, to gratify your\nmajesty; however, in making this declaration, I have another to\nadd, without which I cannot resolve to part with him, and perhaps\nyou may not approve of it.\n\n\"Your majesty will not be displeased,\" continued the Hindoo, \"if\nI tell you that I did not buy this horse, but obtained him of the\ninventor, by giving him my only daughter in marriage, and\npromising at the same time never to sell him; but if I parted\nwith him to exchange him for something that I should value beyond\nall else.\"\n\nThe Hindoo was proceeding, when at the word exchange, the emperor\nof Persia interrupted him. \"I am willing,\" said he, \"to give you\nwhatever you may ask in exchange. You know my kingdom is large,\nand contains many great, rich, and populous cities; I will give\nyou the choice of which you like best, in full sovereignty for\nlife.\"\n\nThis exchange seemed royal and noble to the whole court; but was\nmuch below what the Hindoo had proposed to himself, who had\nraised his thoughts much higher. \"I am infinitely obliged to your\nmajesty for the offer you make me,\" answered he, \"and cannot\nthank you enough for your generosity; yet I must beg of you not\nto be displeased if I have the presumption to tell you, that I\ncannot resign my horse, but by receiving the hand of the princess\nyour daughter as my wife: this is the only price at which I can\npart with my property.\"\n\nThe courtiers about the emperor of Persia could not forbear\nlaughing aloud at this extravagant demand of the Hindoo; but the\nprince Firoze Shaw, the eldest son of the emperor, and\npresumptive heir to the crown, could not hear it without\nindignation. The emperor was of a very different opinion, and\nthought he might sacrifice the princess of Persia to the Hindoo,\nto satisfy his curiosity. He remained however undetermined,\nconsidering what he should do.\n\nPrince Firoze Shaw, who saw his father hesitated what answer to\nmake, began to fear lest he should comply with the Hindoo's\ndemand, and regarded it as not only injurious to the royal\ndignity, and to his sister, but also to himself; therefore to\nanticipate his father, he said, \"Sir, I hope your majesty will\nforgive me for daring to ask, if it is possible your majesty\nshould hesitate about a denial to so insolent a demand from such\nan insignificant fellow, and so scandalous a juggler? or give him\nreason to flatter himself a moment with being allied to one of\nthe most powerful monarchs in the world? I beg of you to consider\nwhat you owe to yourself, to your own blood, and the high rank of\nyour ancestors.\"\n\n\"Son,\" replied the emperor of Persia, \"I much approve of your\nremonstrance, and am sensible of your zeal for preserving the\nlustre of your birth; but you do not consider sufficiently the\nexcellence of this horse; nor that the Hindoo, if I should refuse\nhim, may make the offer somewhere else, where this nice point of\nhonour may be waived. I shall be in the utmost despair if another\nprince should boast of having exceeded me in generosity, and\ndeprived me of the glory of possessing what I esteem as the most\nsingular and wonderful thing in the world. I will not say I\nconsent to grant him what he asked. Perhaps he has not well\nconsidered his exorbitant demand: and putting my daughter the\nprincess out of the question, I may make another agreement with\nhim that will answer his purpose as well. But before I conclude\nthe bargain with him, I should be glad that you would examine the\nhorse, try him yourself, and give me your opinion.\"\n\nAs it is natural for us to flatter ourselves in what we desire,\nthe Hindoo fancied, from what he had heard, that the emperor was\nnot entirely averse to his alliance, and that the prince might\nbecome more favourable to him; therefore, he expressed much joy,\nran before the prince to help him to mount, and shewed him how to\nguide and manage the horse.\n\nThe prince mounted without the Hindoo's assisting him; and no\nsooner had he got his feet in both stirrups, but without staying\nfor the artist's advice, he turned the peg he had seen him use,\nwhen instantly the horse darted into the air, quick as an arrow\nshot out of a bow by the most adroit archer; and in a few moments\nthe emperor his father and the numerous assembly lost sight of\nhim. Neither horse nor prince were to be seen. The Hindoo,\nalarmed at what had happened, prostrated himself before the\nthrone, and said, \"Your majesty must have remarked the prince was\nso hasty, that he would not permit me to give him the necessary\ninstructions to govern my horse. From what he saw me do, he was\nambitious of shewing that he wanted not my advice. He was too\neager to shew his address, but knows not the way, which I was\ngoing to shew him, to turn the horse, and make him descend at the\nwish of his rider. Therefore, the favour I ask of your majesty\nis, not to make me accountable for what accidents may befall him;\nyou are too just to impute to me any misfortune that may attend\nhim.\"\n\nThis address of the Hindoo much surprised and afflicted the\nemperor, who saw the danger his son was in to be inevitable, if,\nas the Hindoo said, there was a secret to bring him back,\ndifferent from that which carried him away; and asked, in a\npassion, why he did not call him the moment he ascended?\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the Hindoo, \"your majesty saw as well as I with\nwhat rapidity the horse flew away. The surprise I was then, and\nstill am in, deprived me of the use of my speech; but if I could\nhave spoken, he was got too far to hear me. If he had heard me,\nhe knew not the secret to bring him back, which, through his\nimpatience, he would not stay to learn. But, sir,\" added he,\n\"there is room to hope that the prince, when he finds himself at\na loss, will perceive another peg, and as soon as he turns that,\nthe horse will cease to rise, and descend to the ground, when he\nmay turn him to what place he pleases by guiding him with the\nbridle.\"\n\nNotwithstanding all these arguments of the Hindoo, which carried\ngreat appearance of probability, the emperor of Persia was much\nalarmed at the evident danger of his son. \"I suppose,\" replied\nhe, \"it is very uncertain whether my son may perceive the other\npeg, and make a right use of it; may not the horse, instead of\nlighting on the ground, fall upon some rock, or tumble into the\nsea with him?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the Hindoo, \"I can deliver your majesty from this\napprehension, by assuring you, that the horse crosses seas\nwithout ever falling into them, and always carries his rider\nwherever he may wish to go. And your majesty may assure yourself,\nthat if the prince does but find out the other peg I mentioned,\nthe horse will carry him where he pleases. It is not to be\nsupposed that he will stop any where but where he can find\nassistance, and make himself known.\"\n\n\"Be it as it may,\" replied the emperor of Persia, \"as I cannot\ndepend upon the assurance you give me, your head shall answer for\nmy son's life, if he does not return safe in three days' time, or\nI should hear that he is alive.\" He then ordered his officers to\nsecure the Hindoo, and keep him close prisoner; after which he\nretired to his palace in affliction that the festival of Nooroze\nshould have proved so inauspicious.\n\nIn the mean time the prince was carried through the air with\nprodigious velocity; and in less than an hour's time had ascended\nso high, that he could not distinguish any thing on the earth,\nbut mountains and plains seemed confounded together. It was then\nhe began to think of returning, and conceived he might do this by\nturning the same peg the contrary way, and pulling the bridle at\nthe same time. But when he found that the horse still rose with\nthe same swiftness, his alarm was great. He turned the peg\nseveral times, one way and the other, but all in vain. It was\nthen he grew sensible of his fault, in not having learnt the\nnecessary precautions to guide the horse before he mounted. He\nimmediately apprehended the great danger he was in, but that\napprehension did not deprive him of his reason. He examined the\nhorse's head and neck with attention, and perceived behind the\nright ear another peg, smaller than the other. He turned that\npeg, and presently perceived that he descended in the same\noblique manner as he had mounted, but not so swiftly.\n\nNight had overshadowed that part of the earth over which the\nprince was when he found out and turned the small peg; and as the\nhorse descended, he by degrees lost sight of the sun, till it\ngrew quite dark; insomuch that, instead of choosing what place he\nwould go to, he was forced to let the bridle lie upon the horse's\nneck, and wait patiently till he alighted, though not without the\ndread lest it should be in the desert, a river, or the sea.\n\nAt last the horse stopped upon some solid substance about\nmidnight, and the prince dismounted very faint and hungry, having\neaten nothing since the morning, when he came out of the palace\nwith his father to assist at the festival. He found himself to be\non the terrace of a magnificent palace, surrounded with a\nbalustrade of white marble, breast high; and groping about,\nreached a staircase, which led down into an apartment, the door\nof which was half open.\n\nFew but prince Firoze Shaw would have ventured to descend those\nstairs dark as it was, and in the danger he exposed himself to\nfrom friends or foes. But no consideration could stop him. \"I do\nnot come,\" said he to himself, \"to do anybody harm; and\ncertainly, whoever meets or sees me first, and finds that I have\nno arms in my hands, will not attempt any thing against my life,\nbefore they hear what I have to say for myself.\" After this\nreflection, he opened the door wider, without making any noise,\nwent softly down the stairs, that he might not awaken anybody;\nand when he came to a landing-place on the staircase, found the\ndoor of a great hall, that had a light in it, open.\n\nThe prince stopped at the door, and listening, heard no other noise\nthan the snoring of some people who were fast asleep. He advanced a\nlittle into the room, and by the light of a lamp saw that those\npersons were black eunuchs, with naked sabres laid by them; which was\nenough to inform him that this was the guard-chamber of some sultan or\nprincess; which latter it proved to be.\n\nIn the next room to this the princess lay, as appeared by the light,\nthe door being open, through a silk curtain, which drew before the\ndoor-way, whither prince Firoze Shaw advanced on tip-toe, without\nwaking the eunuchs. He drew aside the curtain, went in, and without\nstaying to observe the magnificence of the chamber, gave his attention\nto something of greater importance. He saw many beds; only one of them\non a sofa, the rest on the floor. The princess slept in the first, and\nher women in the others.\n\nThis distinction was enough to direct the prince. He crept softly\ntowards the bed, without waking either the princess or her women,\nand beheld a beauty so extraordinary, that he was charmed, and\ninflamed with love at the first sight. \"O heavens!\" said he to\nhimself, \"has my fate brought me hither to deprive me of my\nliberty, which hitherto I have always preserved? How can I avoid\ncertain slavery, when those eyes shall open, since, without\ndoubt, they complete the lustre of this assemblage of charms! I\nmust quickly resolve, since I cannot stir without being my own\nmurderer; for so has necessity ordained.\"\n\nAfter these reflections on his situation, and on the princess's\nbeauty, he fell on his knees, and twitching gently the princess's\nsleeve, pulled it towards him. The princess opened her eyes, and\nseeing a handsome man on his knees, was in great surprise; yet\nseemed to shew no sign of fear.\n\nThe prince availed himself of this favourable moment, bowed his\nhead to the ground, and rising said, \"Beautiful princess, by the\nmost extraordinary and wonderful adventure, you see at your feet\na suppliant prince, son of the emperor of Persia, who was\nyesterday morning in his court, at the celebration of a solemn\nfestival, but is now in a strange country, in danger of his life,\nif you have not the goodness and generosity to afford him your\nassistance and protection. These I implore, adorable princess,\nwith confidence that you will not refuse me. I have the more\nground to persuade myself, as so much beauty and majesty cannot\nentertain inhumanity.\"\n\nThe personage to whom prince Firoze Shaw so happily addressed\nhimself was the princess of Bengal, eldest daughter of the Rajah\nof that kingdom, who had built this palace at a small distance\nfrom his capital, whither she went to take the benefit of the\ncountry air. After she had heard the prince with all the candour\nhe could desire, she replied with equal goodness, \"Prince, you\nare not in a barbarous country; take courage; hospitality,\nhumanity, and politeness are to be met with in the kingdom of\nBengal, as well as in that of Persia. It is not merely I who\ngrant you the protection you ask; you not only have found it in\nmy palace, but will meet it throughout the whole kingdom; you may\nbelieve me, and depend on what I say.\"\n\nThe prince of Persia would have thanked the princess for her\ncivility, and had already bowed down his head to return the\ncompliment; but she would not give him leave to speak.\n\"Notwithstanding I desire,\" said she, \"to know by what miracle\nyou have come hither from the capital of Persia in so short a\ntime; and by what enchantment you have been able to penetrate so\nfar as to come to my apartment, and to have evaded the vigilance\nof my guards; yet, as it is impossible but you must want some\nrefreshment, and regarding you as a welcome guest, I will waive\nmy curiosity, and give orders to my women to regale you, and shew\nyou an apartment, that you may rest yourself after your fatigue,\nand be better able to satisfy my curiosity.\"\n\nThe princess's women, who awoke at the first words which the\nprince addressed to the princess, were in the utmost surprise to\nsee a man at the princess's feet, as they could not conceive how\nhe had got thither, without waking them or the eunuchs. They no\nsooner comprehended the princess's intentions, than they were\nready to obey her commands. They each took a wax candle, of which\nthere were great numbers lighted up in the room; and after the\nprince had respectfully taken leave, went before and conducted\nhim into a handsome chamber; where, while some were preparing the\nbed, others went into the kitchen; and notwithstanding it was so\nunseasonable an hour, they did not make prince Firoze Shaw wait\nlong, but brought him presently a collation; and when he had\neaten as much as he chose, removed the trays, and left him to\ntaste the sweets of repose.\n\nIn the mean time, the princess of Bengal was so struck with the\ncharms, wit, politeness, and other good qualities which she had\ndiscovered in her short interview with the prince, that she could\nnot sleep: but when her women came into her room again asked them\nif they had taken care of him, if he wanted any thing; and\nparticularly, what they thought of him?\n\nThe women, after they had satisfied her as to the first queries,\nanswered to the last: \"We do not know what you may think of him,\nbut, for our parts, we are of opinion you would be very happy if\nyour father would marry you to so amiable a youth; for there is\nnot a prince in all the kingdom of Bengal to be compared to him;\nnor can we hear that any of the neighbouring princes are worthy\nof you.\"\n\nThis flattering compliment was not displeasing to the princess of\nBengal; but as she had no mind to declare her sentiments, she\nimposed silence, telling them that they talked without\nreflection, bidding them return to rest, and let her sleep.\n\nThe next day the princess took more pains in dressing and\nadjusting herself at the glass than she had ever done before. She\nnever tired her women's patience so much, by making them do and\nundo the same thing several times. She adorned her head, neck,\narms, and waist, with the finest and largest diamonds she\npossessed. The habit she put on was one of the richest stuffs of\nthe Indies, of a most beautiful colour, and made only for kings,\nprinces, and princesses. After she had consulted her glass, and\nasked her women, one after another, if any thing was wanting to\nher attire, she sent to know, if the prince of Persia was awake;\nand as she never doubted but that, if he was up and dressed, he\nwould ask leave to come and pay his respects to her, she charged\nthe messenger to tell him she would make him the visit, and she\nhad her reasons for this.\n\nThe prince of Persia, who by the night's rest had recovered the\nfatigue he had undergone the day before, had just dressed\nhimself, when he received the princess of Bengal's compliments by\none of her women. Without giving the lady who brought the message\nleave to communicate it, he asked her, if it was proper for him\nthen to go and pay his respects to the princess; and when the\nlady had acquitted herself of her errand, he replied, \"It shall\nbe as the princess thinks fit; I came here to be solely at her\npleasure.\"\n\nAs soon as the princess understood that the prince of Persia\nwaited for her, she immediately went to pay him a visit. After\nmutual compliments, the prince asking pardon for having waked the\nprincess out of a profound sleep, and the princess inquiring\nafter his health, and how he had rested, the princess sat down on\na sofa, as did also the prince, though at some distance, out of\nrespect.\n\nThe princess then resuming the conversation, said, \"I would have\nreceived you, prince, in the chamber in which you found me last\nnight; but as the chief of my eunuchs has the liberty of entering\nit, and never comes further without my leave, from my impatience\nto hear the surprising adventure which procured me the happiness\nof seeing you, I chose to come hither, that we may not be\ninterrupted; therefore I beg of you to give me that satisfaction,\nwhich will highly oblige me.\"\n\nPrince Firoze Shaw, to gratify the princess of Bengal, began with\ndescribing the festival of the Nooroze, and mentioned the shows\nwhich had amazed the court of Persia, and the people of Sheerauz.\nAfterwards he came to the enchanted horse; the description of\nwhich, with the account of the wonders which the Hindoo had\nperformed before so august an assembly, convinced the princess\nthat nothing of that kind could be imagined more surprising in\nthe world. \"You may well think, charming princess,\" continued the\nprince of Persia, \"that the emperor my father, who cares not what\nhe gives for any thing that is rare and curious, would be very\ndesirous to purchase such a curiosity. He asked the Hindoo what\nhe would have for him; who made him an extravagant reply, telling\nhim, that he had not bought him, but taken him in exchange for\nhis only daughter, and could not part with him but on the like\ncondition, which was to have his consent to marry the princess my\nsister.\n\n\"The crowd of courtiers, who stood about the emperor my father,\nhearing the extravagance of this proposal, laughed loudly; I for\nmy part conceived such great indignation, that I could not\ndisguise it; and the more, because I saw that my father was\ndoubtful what answer he should give. In short, I believe he would\nhave granted him what he asked, if I had not represented to him\nhow injurious it would be to his honour; yet my remonstrance\ncould not bring him entirely to quit his design of sacrificing\nthe princess my sister to so despicable a person. He fancied he\nshould bring me over to his opinion, if once I could comprehend,\nas he imagined he did, the singular worth of this horse. With\nthis view he would have me mount, and make a trial of him myself.\n\n\"To please my father, I mounted the horse, and as soon as I was\nupon his back, put my hand on a peg, as I had seen the Hindoo do\nbefore, to make the horse mount into the air, without stopping to\ntake instructions of the owner for his guidance or descent. The\ninstant I touched the peg, the horse ascended, as swift as an\narrow shot out of a bow, and I was presently at such a distance\nfrom the earth that I could not distinguish any object. From the\nswiftness of the motion I was for some time unapprehensive of the\ndanger to which I was exposed; when I grew sensible of it, I\nendeavoured to turn the peg the contrary way. But the experiment\nwould not answer my expectation, for still the horse rose, and\ncarried me a greater distance from the earth. At last I perceived\nanother peg, which I turned, and then I grew sensible that the\nhorse descended towards the earth, and presently found myself so\nsurrounded with darkness, that it was impossible for me to guide\nthe machine. In this condition I laid the bridle on his neck, and\ntrusted myself to the will of God to dispose of my fate.\n\n\"At length the horse stopped, I got off his back, and examining\nwhereabouts I might be, perceived myself on the terrace of this\npalace, and found the door of the staircase half open. I came\nsoftly down the stairs, and seeing a door open, put my head into\nthe room, perceived some eunuchs asleep, and a great light in an\nadjoining chamber. The necessity I was under, notwithstanding the\ninevitable danger to which I should be exposed, if the eunuchs\nhad waked, inspired me with the boldness, or rather rashness, to\ncross that room to get to the other.\n\n\"It is needless,\" added the prince, \"to tell you the rest, since\nyou are not unacquainted with all that passed afterwards. But I\nam obliged in duty to thank you for your goodness and generosity,\nand to beg of you to let me know how I may shew my gratitude.\nAccording to the law of nations I am already your slave, and\ncannot make you an offer of my person; there only remains my\nheart: but, alas! princess, what do I say? My heart is no longer\nmy own, your charms have forced it from me, but in such a manner,\nthat I will never ask for it again, but yield it up; give me\nleave, therefore, to declare you mistress both of my heart and\ninclination.\"\n\nThese last words of the prince were pronounced with such an air\nand tone, that the princess of Bengal never doubted of the effect\nshe had expected from her charms; neither did she seem to resent\nthe precipitate declaration of the prince of Persia. Her blushes\nserved but to heighten her beauty, and render her more amiable in\nhis eyes.\n\nAs soon as she had recovered herself, she replied, \"Prince, you\nhave given me sensible pleasure, by telling me your wonderful\nadventure. But, on the other hand, I can hardly forbear\nshuddering, when I think on the height you were in the air; and\nthough I have the good fortune to see you here safe and well, I\nwas in pain till you came to that part where the horse\nfortunately descended upon the terrace of my palace. The same\nthing might have happened in a thousand other places. I am glad\nthat chance has given me the preference to the whole world, and\nof the opportunity of letting you know, that it could not have\nconducted you to any place where you could have been received\nwith greater pleasure.\n\n\"But, prince,\" continued she, \"I should think myself offended, if\nI believed that the thought you mentioned of being my slave was\nserious, and that it did not proceed from your politeness rather\nthan from a sincerity of sentiment; for, by the reception I gave\nyou yesterday, you might assure yourself you are here as much at\nliberty as in the midst of the court of Persia.\n\n\"As to your heart,\" added the princess, in a tone which shewed\nnothing less than a refusal, \"as I am persuaded that you have not\nlived so long without disposing of it, and that you could not\nfail of making choice of a princess who deserves it, I should be\nsorry to give you an occasion to be guilty of infidelity to her.\"\n\nPrince Firoze Shaw would have protested that when he left Persia\nhe was master of his own heart: but, at that instant, one of the\nprincess's ladies in waiting came to tell that a collation was\nserved up.\n\nThis interruption delivered the prince and princess from an\nexplanation, which would have been equally embarrassing to both,\nand of which they stood in need. The princess of Bengal was fully\nconvinced of the prince of Persia's sincerity; and the prince,\nthough the princess had not explained herself, judged\nnevertheless from some words she had let fall, that he had no\nreason to complain.\n\nAs the lady held the door open, the princess of Bengal said to\nthe prince, rising off her seat, as he did also from his, \"I am\nnot used to eat so early; but as I fancied you might have had but\nan indifferent supper last night, I ordered breakfast to be got\nready sooner than ordinary.\" After this compliment she led him\ninto a magnificent hall, where a cloth was laid covered with\ngreat plenty of choice and excellent viands; and as soon as they\nwere seated, many beautiful slaves of the princess, richly\ndressed, began a most agreeable concert of vocal and instrumental\nmusic, which lasted the whole time of eating.\n\nThis concert was so sweet and well managed, that it did not in\nthe least interrupt the prince and princess's conversation. The\nprince served the princess with the choicest of every thing, and\nstrove to outdo her in civility, both by words and actions, which\nshe returned with many new compliments: and in this reciprocal\ncommerce of civilities and attentions, love made a greater\nprogress in both than a concerted interview would have promoted.\n\nWhen they rose, the princess conducted the prince into a large\nand magnificent saloon, embellished with paintings in blue and\ngold, and richly furnished; there they both sat down in a\nbalcony, which afforded a most agreeable prospect into the palace\ngarden, which prince Firoze Shaw admired for the vast variety of\nflowers, shrubs, and trees, which were full as beautiful as those\nof Persia, but quite different. Here taking the opportunity of\nentering into conversation with the princess, he said, \"I always\nbelieved, madam, that no part of the world but Persia afforded\nsuch stately palaces and beautiful gardens; but now I see, that\nother great monarchs know as well how to build mansions suitable\nto their power and greatness; and if there is a difference in the\nmanner of building, there is none in the degree of grandeur and\nmagnificence.\"\n\n\"Prince,\" replied the princess of Bengal, \"as I have no idea of\nthe palaces of Persia, I cannot judge of the comparison you have\nmade of mine. But, however sincere you seem to be, I can hardly\nthink it just, but rather incline to believe it a compliment: I\nwill not despise my palace before you; you have too good an eye,\ntoo good a taste not to form a sound judgment. But I assure you,\nI think it very indifferent when I compare it with the king my\nfather's, which far exceeds it for grandeur, beauty, and\nrichness; you shall tell me yourself what you think of it, when\nyou have seen it: for since a chance has brought you so nigh to\nthe capital of this kingdom, I do not doubt but you will see it,\nand make my father a visit, that he may pay you all the honour\ndue to a prince of your rank and merit.\"\n\nThe princess flattered herself, that by exciting in the prince of\nPersia a curiosity to see the capital of Bengal, and to visit her\nfather, the king, seeing him so handsome, wise, and accomplished\na prince, might perhaps resolve to propose an alliance with him,\nby offering her to him as a wife. And as she was well persuaded\nshe was not indifferent to the prince, and that he would be\npleased with the proposal, she hoped to attain to the utmost of\nher wishes, and preserve all the decorum becoming a princess, who\nwould appear resigned to the will of her king and father; but the\nprince of Persia did not return her an answer according to her\nexpectation.\n\n\"Princess,\" he replied, \"the preference which you give the king\nof Bengal's palace to your own is enough to induce me to believe\nit much exceeds it: and as to the proposal of my going and paying\nmy respects to the king your father, I should not only do myself\na pleasure, but an honour. But judge, princess, yourself, would\nyou advise me to present myself before so great a monarch, like\nan adventurer, without attendants, and a train suitable to my\nrank?\"\n\n\"Prince,\" replied the princess, \"let not that give you any pain;\nif you will but go, you shall want no money to have what train\nand attendants you please: I will furnish you; and we have\ntraders here of all nations in great numbers, and you may make\nchoice of as many as you please to form your household.\"\n\nPrince Firoze Shaw penetrated the princess of Bengal's intention,\nand this sensible mark of her love still augmented his passion,\nwhich, notwithstanding its violence, made him not forget his\nduty. Without any hesitation he replied, \"Princess, I should most\nwillingly accept of the obliging offer you make me, for which I\ncannot sufficiently shew my gratitude, if the uneasiness my\nfather must feel on account of my absence did not prevent me. I\nshould be unworthy of the tenderness he has always had for me, if\nI should not return as soon as possible to calm his fears. I know\nhim so well, that while I have the happiness of enjoying the\nconversation of so lovely a princess, I am persuaded he is\nplunged into the deepest grief, and has lost all hopes of seeing\nme again. I trust you will do me the justice to believe, that I\ncannot, without ingratitude, and being guilty of a crime,\ndispense with going to restore to him that life, which a too long\ndeferred return may have endangered already.\n\n\"After this, princess,\" continued the prince of Persia, \"if you\nwill permit me, and think me worthy to aspire to the happiness of\nbecoming your husband, as my father has always declared that he\nnever would constrain me in my choice, I should find it no\ndifficult matter to get leave to return, not as a stranger, but\nas a prince, to contract an alliance with your father by our\nmarriage; and I am persuaded that the emperor will be overjoyed\nwhen I tell him with what generosity you received me, though a\nstranger in distress.\"\n\nThe princess of Bengal was too reasonable, after what the prince\nof Persia had said, to persist any longer in persuading him to\npay a visit to the raja of Bengal, or to ask any thing of him\ncontrary to his duty and honour. But she was much alarmed to find\nhe thought of so sudden a departure; fearing, that if he took his\nleave of her so soon, instead of remembering his promise, he\nwould forget when he ceased to see her. To divert him from his\npurpose, she said to him, \"Prince, my intention of proposing a\nvisit to my father was not to oppose so just a duty as that you\nmention, and which I did not foresee. But I cannot approve of\nyour going so soon as you propose; at least grant me the favour I\nask of a little longer acquaintance; and since I have had the\nhappiness to have you alight in the kingdom of Bengal, rather\nthan in the midst of a desert, or on the top of some steep craggy\nrock, from which it would have been impossible for you to\ndescend, I desire you will stay long enough to enable you to give\na better account at the court of Persia of what you may see\nhere.\"\n\nThe sole end the princess had in this request was, that the\nprince of Persia, by a longer stay, might become insensibly more\npassionately enamoured of her charms; hoping thereby that his\nardent desire of returning would diminish, and then he might be\nbrought to appear in public, and pay a visit to the Rajah of\nBengal. The prince of Persia could not well refuse her the favour\nshe asked, after the kind reception she had given him; and\ntherefore politely complied with her request; and the princess's\nthoughts were directed to render his stay agreeable by all the\namusements she could devise.\n\nNothing went forward for several days but concerts of music,\naccompanied with magnificent feasts and collations in the\ngardens, or hunting-parties in the vicinity of the palace, which\nabounded with all sorts of game, stags, hinds, and fallow deer,\nand other beasts peculiar to the kingdom of Bengal, which the\nprincess could pursue without danger. After the chase, the prince\nand princess met in some beautiful spot, where a carpet was\nspread, and cushions laid for their accommodation. There resting\nthemselves, after their violent exercise, they conversed on\nvarious subjects. The princess took pains to turn the\nconversation on the grandeur, power, riches, and government of\nPersia; that from the prince's replies she might have an\nopportunity to talk of the kingdom of Bengal, and its advantages,\nand engage him to resolve to make a longer stay there; but she\nwas disappointed in her expectations.\n\nThe prince of Persia, without the least exaggeration, gave so\nadvantageous an account of the extent of the kingdom of Persia,\nits magnificence and riches, its military force, its commerce by\nsea and land with the most remote parts of the world, some of\nwhich were unknown even to him; the vast number of large cities\nit contained, almost as populous as that which the emperor had\nchosen for his residence, where he had palaces furnished ready to\nreceive him at all seasons of the year; so that he had his choice\nalways to enjoy a perpetual spring; that before he had concluded,\nthe princess found the kingdom of Bengal to be very much inferior\nto that of Persia in a great many respects. When he had finished\nhis relation, he begged of her to entertain him with a\ndescription of Bengal.\n\nThe princess after much entreaty gave prince Firoze Shaw that\nsatisfaction; but by lessening a great many advantages the\nkingdom of Bengal was well known to have over that of Persia, she\nbetrayed the disposition she felt to accompany him, so that he\nbelieved she would consent at the first proposition he should\nmake; but he thought it would not be proper to make it till he\nhad shewed her so much deference as to stay with her long enough\nto make the blame fall on herself, in case she wished to detain\nhim from returning to his father.\n\nTwo whole months the prince of Persia abandoned himself entirely\nto the will of the princess of Bengal, yielding to all the\namusements she contrived for him, for she neglected nothing to\ndivert him, as if she thought he had nothing else to do but to\npass his whole life with her in this manner. But he now declared\nseriously he could not stay longer, and begged of her to give him\nleave to return to his father; repeating again the promise he had\nmade her to come back soon in a style worthy of her and himself,\nand to demand her in marriage of the Rajah of Bengal.\n\n\"And, princess,\" observed the prince of Persia, \"that you may not\nsuspect the truth of what I say; and that by my asking this\npermission you may not rank me among those false lovers who\nforget the object of their affection as soon as absent from them;\nto shew that my passion is real, and not feigned, and that life\ncannot be pleasant to me when absent from so lovely a princess,\nwhose love to me I cannot doubt is mutual; I would presume, were\nI not afraid you would be offended at my request, to ask the\nfavour of taking you along with me.\"\n\nAs the prince saw that the princess blushed at these words,\nwithout any mark of anger, he proceeded, and said, \"Princess, as\nfor my father's consent, and the reception he will give you, I\nventure to assure you he will receive you with pleasure into his\nalliance; and as for the Rajah of Bengal, after all the love and\ntender regard he has always expressed for you, he must be the\nreverse of what you have described him, an enemy to your repose\nand happiness, if he should not receive in a friendly manner the\nembassy which my father will send to him for his approbation of\nour marriage.\"\n\nThe princess returned no answer to this address of the prince of\nPersia; but her silence, and eyes cast down, were sufficient to\ninform him that she had no reluctance to accompany him into\nPersia. The only difficulty she felt was, that the prince knew\nnot well enough how to govern the horse, and she was apprehensive\nof being involved with him in the same difficulty as when he\nfirst made the experiment. But the prince soon removed her fear,\nby assuring her she might trust herself with him, for that after\nthe experience he had acquired, he defied the Hindoo himself to\nmanage him better. She thought therefore only of concerting\nmeasures to get off with him so secretly, that nobody belonging\nto the palace should have the least suspicion of their design.\n\nThe next morning, a little before day-break, when all the\nattendants were asleep, they went upon the terrace of the palace.\nThe prince turned the horse towards Persia, and placed him where\nthe princess could easily get up behind him; which she had no\nsooner done, and was well settled with her arms about his waist,\nfor her better security, than he turned the peg, when the horse\nmounted into the air, and making his usual haste, under the\nguidance of the prince, in two hours time the prince discovered\nthe capital of Persia.\n\nHe would not alight at the great square from whence he had set\nout, nor in the palace, but directed his course towards a\npleasure-house at a little distance from the capital. He led the\nprincess into a handsome apartment, where he told her, that to do\nher all the honour that was due to her, he would go and inform\nhis father of their arrival, and return to her immediately. He\nordered the housekeeper of the palace, who was then present, to\nprovide the princess with whatever she had occasion for.\n\nAfter the prince had taken his leave of the princess, he ordered\na horse to be saddled, which he mounted, after sending back the\nhousekeeper to the princess, with orders to provide her\nrefreshments immediately, and then set forwards for the palace.\nAs he passed through the streets he was received with\nacclamations by the people, who were overjoyed to see him again.\nThe emperor his father was giving audience, when he appeared\nbefore him in the midst of his council. He received him with\necstacy, and embracing him with tears of joy and tenderness,\nasked him, what was become of the Hindoo's horse.\n\nThis question gave the prince an opportunity of describing the\nembarrassment and danger he was in when the horse ascended into\nthe air, and how he had arrived at last at the princess of\nBengal's palace, the kind reception he had met with there, and\nthat the motive which had induced him to stay so long with her\nwas the affection she had shewn him; also, that after promising\nto marry her, he had persuaded her to accompany him into Persia.\n\"But, sir,\" added the prince, \"I felt assured that you would not\nrefuse your consent, and have brought her with me on the\nenchanted horse, to a palace where your majesty often goes for\nyour pleasure; and have left her there, till I could return and\nassure her that my promise was not in vain.\"\n\nAfter these words, the prince prostrated himself before the\nemperor to obtain his consent, when his father raised him up,\nembraced him a second time, and said to him, \"Son, I not only\nconsent to your marriage with the princess of Bengal, but will go\nand meet her myself, and thank her for the obligation I in\nparticular have to her, and will bring her to my palace, and\ncelebrate your nuptials this day.\"\n\nThe emperor now gave orders for his court to make preparations\nfor the princess's entry; that the rejoicings should be announced\nby the royal band of military music, and that the Hindoo should\nbe fetched out of prison and brought before him. When the Hindoo\nwas conducted before the emperor, he said to him, \"I secured thy\nperson, that thy life, though not a sufficient victim to my rage\nand grief, might answer for that of the prince my son, whom,\nhowever, thanks to God! I have found again: go, take your horse,\nand never let me see your face more.\"\n\nAs the Hindoo had learned of those who brought him out of prison\nthat prince Firoze Shaw was returned with a princess, and was\nalso informed of the place where he had alighted and left her,\nand that the emperor was making preparations to go and bring her\nto his palace; as soon as he got out of the presence, he\nbethought himself of being revenged upon the emperor and the\nprince. Without losing any time, he went directly to the palace,\nand addressing himself to the keeper, told him, he came from the\nprince of Persia for the princess of Bengal, and to conduct her\nbehind him through the air to the emperor, who waited in the\ngreat square of his palace to gratify the whole court and city of\nSheerauz with that wonderful sight.\n\nThe palace-keeper, who knew the Hindoo, and that the emperor had\nimprisoned him, gave the more credit to what he said, because he\nsaw that he was at liberty. He presented him to the princess of\nBengal; who no sooner understood that he came from the prince of\nPersia than she consented to what the prince, as she thought, had\ndesired of her.\n\nThe Hindoo, overjoyed at his success, and the ease with which he\nhad accomplished his villany, mounted his horse, took the\nprincess behind him, with the assistance of the keeper, turned\nthe peg, and instantly the horse mounted into the air.\n\nAt the same time the emperor of Persia, attended by his court,\nwas on the road to the palace where the princess of Bengal had\nbeen left, and the prince of Persia was advanced before, to\nprepare the princess to receive his father; when the Hindoo, to\nbrave them both, and revenge himself for the ill-treatment he had\nreceived, appeared over their heads with his prize.\n\nWhen the emperor of Persia saw the ravisher, he stopped. His\nsurprise and affliction were the more sensible, because it was\nnot in his power to punish so high an affront. He loaded him with\na thousand imprecations, as did also all the courtiers, who were\nwitnesses of so signal a piece of insolence and unparalleled\nartifice and treachery.\n\nThe Hindoo, little moved with their curses, which just reached\nhis ears, continued his way, while the emperor, extremely\nmortified at so great an insult, but more so that he could not\npunish the author, returned to his palace in rage and vexation.\n\nBut what was prince Firoze Shaw's grief at beholding the Hindoo\nhurrying away the princess of Bengal, whom he loved so\npassionately that he could not live without her! At a spectacle\nso little expected he was confounded, and before he could\ndeliberate with himself what measures to pursue, the horse was\nout of sight. He could not resolve how to act, whether he should\nreturn to his father's palace, and shut himself in his apartment,\nto give himself entirely up to his affliction, without attempting\nto pursue the ravisher. But as his generosity, love, and courage,\nwould not suffer this, he continued on his way to the palace\nwhere he had left his princess.\n\nWhen he arrived, the palace-keeper, who was by this time\nconvinced of his fatal credulity, in believing the artful Hindoo,\nthrew himself at his feet with tears in his eyes, accused himself\nof the crime, which unintentionally he had committed, and\ncondemned himself to die by his hand. \"Rise,\" said the prince to\nhim, \"I do not impute the loss of my princess to thee, but to my\nown want of precaution. But not to lose time, fetch me a\ndervish's habit, and take care you do not give the least hint\nthat it is for me.\"\n\nNot far from this palace there stood a convent of dervishes, the\nsuperior of which was the palace-keeper's particular friend. He\nwent to his chief, and telling him that a considerable officer at\ncourt and a man of worth, to whom he had been very much obliged\nand wished to favour, by giving him an opportunity to withdraw\nfrom some sudden displeasure of the emperor, readily obtained a\ncomplete dervish's habit, and carried it to prince Firoze Shaw.\nThe prince immediately pulled off his own dress, put it on, and\nbeing so disguised, and provided with a box of jewels, which he\nhad brought as a present to the princess, left the palace,\nuncertain which way to go, but resolved not to return till he had\nfound out his princess, and brought her back again, or perish in\nthe attempt.\n\nBut to return to the Hindoo; he governed his enchanted horse so\nwell, that he arrived early next morning in a wood, near the\ncapital of the kingdom of Cashmeer. Being hungry, and concluding\nthe princess was so also, he alighted in that wood, in an open\npart of it, and left the princess on a grassy spot, close to a\nrivulet of clear fresh water.\n\nDuring the Hindoo's absence, the princess of Bengal, who knew\nthat she was in the power of a base ravisher, whose violence she\ndreaded, thought of escaping from him, and seeking out for some\nsanctuary. But as she had eaten scarcely any thing on her arrival\nat the palace, was so faint, that she could not execute her\ndesign, but was forced to abandon it and stay where she was,\nwithout any other resource than her courage, and a firm\nresolution rather to suffer death than be unfaithful to the\nprince of Persia. When the Hindoo returned, she did not wait to\nbe entreated, but ate with him, and recovered herself enough to\nanswer with courage to the insolent language he now began to hold\nto her. After many threats, as she saw that the Hindoo was\npreparing to use violence, she rose up to make resistance, and by\nher cries and shrieks drew towards them a company of horsemen,\nwhich happened to be the sultan of Cashmeer and his attendants,\nwho, as they were returning from hunting, happily for the\nprincess of Bengal, passed through that part of the wood, and ran\nto her assistance, at the noise she made.\n\nThe sultan addressed himself to the Hindoo, demanded who he was,\nand wherefore he ill treated the lady? The Hindoo, with great\nimpudence, replied, \"That she was his wife, and what had any one\nto do with his quarrel with her?\"\n\nThe princess, who neither knew the rank nor quality of the person\nwho came so seasonably to her relief, told the Hindoo he was a\nliar; and said to the sultan, \"My lord, whoever you are whom\nHeaven has sent to my assistance, have compassion on a princess,\nand give no credit to that impostor. Heaven forbid that I should\nbe the wife of so vile and despicable a Hindoo! a wicked\nmagician, who has forced me away from the prince of Persia, to\nwhom I was going to be united, and has brought me hither on the\nenchanted horse you behold there.\"\n\nThe princess of Bengal had no occasion to say more to persuade\nthe sultan of Cashmeer that what she told him was truth. Her\nbeauty, majestic air, and tears, spoke sufficiently for her.\nJustly enraged at the insolence of the Hindoo, he ordered his\nguards to surround him, and strike off his head: which sentence\nwas immediately executed.\n\nThe princess, thus delivered from the persecution of the Hindoo,\nfell into another no less afflicting. The sultan conducted her to\nhis palace, where he lodged her in the most magnificent\napartment, next his own, commanded a great number of women slaves\nto attend her, and ordered a guard of eunuchs. He led her himself\ninto the apartment he had assigned her; where, without giving her\ntime to thank him for the great obligation she had received, he\nsaid to her, \"As I am certain, princess, that you must want rest,\nI will take my leave of you till to-morrow, when you will be\nbetter able to relate to me the circumstances of this strange\nadventure;\" and then left her.\n\nThe princess of Bengal's joy was inexpressible at finding herself\ndelivered from the violence of the Hindoo, of whom she could not\nthink without horror. She flattered herself that the sultan of\nCashmeer would complete his generosity by sending her back to the\nprince of Persia when she should have told him her story, and\nasked that favour of him; but she was much deceived in these\nhopes; for her deliverer had resolved to marry her himself the\nnext day; and for that end had ordered rejoicings to be made by\nday-break, by beating of drums, sounding of trumpets, and other\ninstruments expressive of joy; which not only echoed through the\npalace, but throughout the whole city.\n\nThe princess of Bengal was awakened by these tumultuous concerts;\nbut attributed them to a very different cause from the true one.\nWhen the sultan of Cashmeer, who had given orders that he should\nbe informed when the princess was ready to receive a visit, came\nto wait upon her; after he had inquired after her health, he\nacquainted her that all those rejoicings were to render their\nnuptials the more solemn; and at the same time desired her assent\nto the union. This declaration put her into such agitation that\nshe fainted away.\n\nThe women-slaves, who were present, ran to her assistance; and\nthe sultan did all he could to bring her to herself, though it\nwas a long time before they succeeded. But when she recovered,\nrather than break the promise she had made to prince Firoze Shaw,\nby consenting to marry the sultan of Cashmeer, who had proclaimed\ntheir nuptials before he had asked her consent, she resolved to\nfeign madness. She began to utter the most extravagant\nexpressions before the sultan, and even rose off her seat as if\nto attack him; insomuch that he was greatly alarmed and\nafflicted, that he had made such a proposal so unseasonably.\n\nWhen he found that her frenzy rather increased than abated, he\nleft her with her women, charging them never to leave her alone,\nbut to take great care of her. He sent often that day to inquire\nhow she did; but received no other answer than that she was\nrather worse than better. At night she seemed more indisposed\nthan she had been all day, insomuch that the sultan deferred the\nhappiness he had promised himself.\n\nThe princess of Bengal continued to talk wildly, and shew other\nmarks of a disordered mind, next day and the following; so that\nthe sultan was induced to send for all the physicians belonging\nto his court, to consult them upon her disease, and to ask if\nthey could cure her.\n\nThe physicians all agreed that there were several sorts and\ndegrees of this disorder, some curable and others not; and told\nthe sultan, that they could not judge of the princess of Bengal's\nunless they might see her; upon which the sultan ordered the\neunuchs to introduce them into the princess's chamber, one after\nanother, according to their rank.\n\nThe princess, who foresaw what would happen, and feared, that if\nshe let the physicians feel her pulse, the least experienced of\nthem would soon know that she was in good health, and that her\nmadness was only feigned, flew into such a well-dissembled rage\nand passion, that she appeared ready to injure those who came\nnear her; so none of them durst approach her.\n\nSome who pretended to be more skilful than the rest, and boasted\nof judging of diseases only by sight, ordered her some potions,\nwhich she made the less difficulty to take, well knowing she\ncould be sick or well at pleasure, and that they could do her no\nharm.\n\nWhen the sultan of Cashmeer saw that his court physicians could\nnot cure her, he called in the most celebrated and experienced of\nthe city, who had no better success. Afterwards he sent for the\nmost famous in the kingdom, who met with no better reception than\nthe others from the princess, and what they prescribed had no\neffect. Afterwards he dispatched expresses to the courts of\nneighbouring sultans, with the princess's case, to be distributed\namong the most famous physicians, with a promise of a munificent\nreward to any of them who should come and effect her cure.\n\nVarious physicians arrived from all parts, and tried their skill;\nbut none could boast of better success than their predecessors,\nor of restoring the princess's faculties, since it was a case\nthat did not depend on medicine, but on the will of the princess\nherself.\n\nDuring this interval Firoze Shaw, disguised in the habit of a\ndervish, travelled through many provinces and towns, involved in\ngrief; and endured excessive fatigue, not knowing which way to\ndirect his course, or whether he might not be pursuing the very\nopposite road from what he ought, in order to hear the tidings he\nwas in search of. He made diligent inquiry after her at every\nplace he came to; till at last passing through a city of\nHindoostan, he heard the people talk much of a princess of\nBengal, who ran mad on the day of the intended celebration of her\nnuptials with the sultan of Cashmeer. At the name of the princess\nof Bengal, and supposing that there could exist no other princess\nof Bengal than her upon whose account he had undertaken his\ntravels, he hastened towards the kingdom of Cashmeer, and upon\nhis arrival at the capital took up his lodging at a khan, where\nthe same day he was informed of the story of the princess, and\nthe fate of the Hindoo magician, which he had so richly deserved.\nFrom the circumstances, the prince was convinced that she was the\nbeloved object he had sought so long.\n\nBeing informed of all these particulars, he provided himself\nagainst the next day with a physician's habit, and having let his\nbeard grow during his travels, he passed the more easily for the\ncharacter he assumed, went to the palace, impatient to behold his\nbeloved, where he presented himself to the chief of the officers,\nand observed modestly, that perhaps it might be looked upon as a\nrash undertaking to attempt the cure of the princess, after so\nmany had failed; but that he hoped some specifics, from which he\nhad experienced success, might effect the desired relief. The\nchief of the officers told him he was welcome, that the sultan\nwould receive him with pleasure, and that if he should have the\ngood fortune to restore the princess to her former health, he\nmight expect a considerable reward from his master's liberality:\n\"Stay a moment,\" added he, \"I will come to you again\nimmediately.\"\n\nSome time had elapsed since any physician had offered himself;\nand the sultan of Cashmeer with great grief had begun to lose all\nhope of ever seeing the princess restored to health, that he\nmight marry, and shew how much he loved her. He ordered the\nofficer to introduce the physician he had announced.\n\nThe prince of Persia was presented, when the sultan, without\nwasting time in superfluous discourse, after having told him the\nprincess of Bengal could not bear the sight of a physician\nwithout falling into most violent transports, which increased her\nmalady, conducted him into a closet, from whence, through a\nlattice, he might see her without being observed.\n\nThere Firoze Shaw beheld his lovely princess sitting melancholy,\nwith tears in her eyes, and singing an air in which she deplored\nher unhappy fate, which had deprived her, perhaps, for ever, of\nthe object she loved so tenderly.\n\nThe prince was sensibly affected at the melancholy condition in\nwhich he found his dear princess, but he wanted no other signs to\ncomprehend that her disorder was feigned, or that it was for love\nof him that she was under so grievous an affliction. When he came\nout of the closet, he told the sultan that he had discovered the\nnature of the princess's complaint, and that she was not\nincurable; but added withal, that he must speak with her in\nprivate, and alone, as, notwithstanding her violent agitation at\nthe sight of physicians, he hoped she would hear and receive him\nfavourably.\n\nThe sultan ordered the princess's chamber door to be opened, and\nFiroze Shaw went in. As soon as the princess saw him (taking him\nby his habit to be a physician), she rose up in a rage,\nthreatening him, and giving him the most abusive language. He\nmade directly towards her, and when he was nigh enough for her to\nhear him, for he did not wish to be heard by any one else, said\nto her, in a low voice, \"Princess, I am not a physician, but the\nprince of Persia, and am come to procure you your liberty.\"\n\nThe princess, who knew the sound of the voice, and the upper\nfeatures of his face, notwithstanding he had let his beard grow\nso long, grew calm at once, and a secret joy and pleasure\noverspread her face, the effect of seeing the person so much\ndesired so unexpectedly. Her agreeable surprise deprived her for\nsome time of the use of speech, and gave Firoze Shaw time to tell\nher as briefly as possible, how despair had seized him when he\nsaw the Hindoo carry her away; the resolution he afterwards had\ntaken to leave every thing to find her out, and never to return\nhome till he had regained her out of the hands of the perfidious\nwretch; and by what good fortune, at last, after a long and\nfatiguing journey, he had the satisfaction to find her in the\npalace of the sultan of Cashmeer. He then desired the princess to\ninform him of all that happened to her, from the time she was\ntaken away, till that moment when he had the happiness to\nconverse with her, telling her, that it was of the greatest\nimportance to know this, that he might take the most proper\nmeasures to deliver her from the tyranny of the sultan of\nCashmeer.\n\nThe princess informed him how she was delivered from the Hindoo's\nviolence by the sultan, as he was returning from hunting; how she\nwas alarmed the next day, by a declaration he had made of his\nprecipitate design to marry her, without even the ceremony of\nasking her consent; that this violent and tyrannical conduct put\nher into a swoon; after which she thought she had no other way\nthan what she had taken, to preserve herself for a prince to whom\nshe had given her heart and faith; or die, rather than marry the\nsultan, whom she neither loved, nor could ever love.\n\nThe prince of Persia then asked her, if she knew what became of\nthe horse, after the death of the Hindoo magician. To which she\nanswered, that she knew not what orders the sultan had given; but\nsupposed, after the account she had given him of it, he would\ntake care of it as a curiosity.\n\nAs Firoze Shaw never doubted but that the sultan had the horse,\nhe communicated to the princess his design of making use of it to\nconvey them both into Persia; and after they had consulted\ntogether on the measures they should take, they agreed that the\nprincess should dress herself the next day, and receive the\nsultan civilly, but without speaking to him.\n\nThe sultan of Cashmeer was overjoyed when the prince of Persia\nstated to him what effect his first visit had had towards the\ncure of the princess. On the following day, when the princess\nreceived him in such a manner as persuaded him her cure was far\nadvanced, he regarded him as the greatest physician in the world;\nand seeing her in this state, contented himself with telling her\nhow rejoiced he was at her being likely soon to recover her\nhealth. He exhorted her to follow the directions of so skilful a\nphysician, in order to complete what he had so well begun; and\nthen retired without waiting for her answer.\n\nThe prince of Persia, who attended the sultan of Cashmeer out of\nthe princess's chamber, as he accompanied him, asked if, without\nfailing in due respect, he might inquire, how the princess of\nBengal came into the dominions of Cashmeer thus alone, since her\nown country was far distant? This he said on purpose to introduce\nsome conversation about the enchanted horse, and to know what was\nbecome of it.\n\nThe sultan, who could not penetrate into the prince's motive,\nconcealed nothing from him; but informed him of what the princess\nhad related, when he had delivered her from the Hindoo magician:\nadding, that he had ordered the enchanted horse to be kept safe\nin his treasury as a great curiosity, though he knew not the use\nof it.\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the pretended physician, \"the information which\nyour majesty has given your devoted slave affords me a means of\ncuring the princess. As she was brought hither on this horse, and\nthe horse is enchanted, she hath contracted something of the\nenchantment, which can be dissipated only by a certain incense\nwhich I am acquainted with. If your majesty would entertain\nyourself, your court, and the people of your capital, with the\nmost surprising sight that ever was beheld, let the horse be\nbrought into the great square before the palace, and leave the\nrest to me. I promise to show you, and all that assembly, in a\nfew moments time, the princess of Bengal completely restored in\nbody and mind. But the better to effect what I propose, it will\nbe requisite that the princess, should be dressed as\nmagnificently as possible, and adorned with the most valuable\njewels your majesty may possess.\" The sultan would have\nundertaken much more difficult things to have arrived at the\nenjoyment of his desires, which he expected soon to accomplish.\n\nThe next day, the enchanted horse was, by his order, taken out of\nthe treasury, and placed early in the great square before the\npalace. A report was spread through the town that there was\nsomething extraordinary to be seen, and crowds of people flocked\nthither from all parts, insomuch that the sultan's guards were\nplaced to prevent disorder, and to keep space enough round the\nhorse.\n\nThe sultan of Cashmeer, surrounded by all his nobles and\nministers of state, was placed on a scaffold erected on purpose.\nThe princess of Bengal, attended by a number of ladies whom the\nsultan had assigned her, went up to the enchanted horse, and the\nwomen helped her to mount. When she was fixed in the saddle, and\nhad the bridle in her hand, the pretended physician placed round\nthe horse at a proper distance many vessels full of lighted\ncharcoal, which he had ordered to be brought, and going round\nthem with a solemn pace, cast in a strong and grateful perfume;\nthen collected in himself, with downcast eyes, and his hands upon\nhis breast, he ran three times about the horse, making as if he\npronounced some mystical words. The moment the pots sent forth a\ndark cloud of pleasant smell, which so surrounded the princess,\nthat neither she nor the horse could be discerned, watching his\nopportunity, the prince jumped nimbly up behind her, and reaching\nhis hand to the peg, turned it; and just as the horse rose with\nthem into the air, he pronounced these words, which the sultan\nheard distinctly, \"Sultan of Cashmeer, when you would marry\nprincesses who implore your protection, learn first to obtain\ntheir consent.\"\n\nThus the prince delivered the princess of Bengal, and carried her\nthe same day to the capital of Persia, where he alighted in the\nsquare of the palace, before the emperor his father's apartment,\nwho deferred the solemnization of the marriage no longer than\ntill he could make the preparations necessary to render the\nceremony pompous and magnificent, and evince the interest he took\nin it.\n\nAfter the days appointed for the rejoicings were over, the\nemperor of Persia's first care was to name and appoint an\nambassador to go to the Rajah of Bengal with an account of what\nhad passed, and to demand his approbation and ratification of the\nalliance contracted by this marriage; which the Rajah of Bengal\ntook as an honour, and granted with great pleasure and\nsatisfaction.\n\n\n\n\n            THE STORY OF PRINCE AHMED, AND THE FAIRY\n                          PERIE BANOU.\n\n\n\nThere was a sultan who had peaceably filled the throne of India\nmany years, and had the satisfaction in his old age to have three\nsons the worthy imitators of his virtues, who, with the princess\nhis niece, were the ornaments of his court. The eldest of the\nprinces was called Houssain, the second Ali, the youngest Ahmed,\nand the princess his niece Nouronnihar.\n\nThe princess Nouronnihar was the daughter of the younger brother\nof the sultan, to whom in his lifetime he had allowed a\nconsiderable revenue. But that prince had not been married long\nbefore he died, and left the princess very young. The sultan, in\nconsideration of the brotherly love and friendship that had\nalways subsisted between them, besides a great attachment to his\nperson, took upon himself the care of his daughter's education,\nand brought her up in his palace with the three princes; where\nher singular beauty and personal accomplishments, joined to a\nlively wit and irreproachable virtue, distinguished her among all\nthe princesses of her time.\n\nThe sultan, her uncle, proposed to marry her when she arrived at\na proper age, and by that means to contract an alliance with some\nneighbouring prince; and was thinking seriously on the subject,\nwhen he perceived that the three princes his sons loved her\npassionately. This gave him much concern, though his grief did\nnot proceed from a consideration that their passion prevented his\nforming the alliance he designed, but the difficulty he foresaw\nto make them agree, and that the two youngest should consent to\nyield her up to their eldest brother. He spoke to each of them\napart; and remonstrated on the impossibility of one princess\nbeing the wife of three persons, and the troubles they would\ncreate if they persisted in their attachment. He did all he could\nto persuade them to abide by a declaration of the princess in\nfavour of one of them; or to desist from their pretensions, to\nthink of other matches which he left them free liberty to choose,\nand suffer her to be married to a foreign attachment. But as he\nfound them obstinate, he sent for them all together, and said,\n\"My children, since I have not been able to dissuade you from\naspiring to marry the princess your cousin; and as I have no\ninclination to use my authority, to give her to one in preference\nto his brothers, I trust I have thought of an expedient which\nwill please you all, and preserve harmony among you, if you will\nbut hear me, and follow my advice. I think it would not be amiss\nif you were to travel separately into different countries, so\nthat you might not meet each other: and as you know I am very\ncurious, and delight in every thing that is rare and singular, I\npromise my niece in marriage to him who shall bring me the most\nextraordinary rarity; chance may lead you to form your own\njudgment of the singularity of the things which you bring, by the\ncomparison you make of them, so that you will have no difficulty\nto do yourselves justice by yielding the preference to him who\nhas deserved it; and for the expense of travelling, I will give\neach of you a sum suited to your rank, and for the purchase of\nthe rarity you shall search after; which shall not be laid out in\nequipage and attendants, as much display, by discovering who you\nare, would not only deprive you of the liberty to acquit\nyourselves of your charge, but prevent your observing those\nthings which may merit your attention, and may be most useful to\nyou.\"\n\nAs the three princes were always submissive and obedient to the\nsultan's will, and each flattered himself fortune might prove\nfavourable to him, and give him possession of the princess\nNouronnihar, they all consented to the proposal. The sultan gave\nthem the money he promised; and that very day they issued orders\nfor the preparations for their travels, and took leave of their\nfather, that they might be ready to set out early next morning.\nThey all went out at the same gate of the city, each dressed like\na merchant, attended by a trusty officer, habited as a slave, and\nall well mounted and equipped. They proceeded the first day's\njourney together; and slept at a caravanserai, where the road\ndivided into three different tracks. At night when they were at\nsupper together, they all agreed to travel for a year, to make\ntheir present lodging their rendezvous; and that the first who\ncame should wait for the rest; that as they had all three taken\nleave together of the sultan, they might return in company. The\nnext morning by break of day, after they had embraced and wished\neach other reciprocally good success, they mounted their horses,\nand took each a different road.\n\nPrince Houssain, the eldest brother, who had heard wonders of the\nextent, power, riches, and splendour of the kingdom of Bisnagar,\nbent his course towards the Indian coast; and after three months'\ntravelling, joining himself to different caravans, sometimes over\ndeserts and barren mountains, and sometimes through populous and\nfertile countries, arrived at Bisnagar, the capital of the\nkingdom of that name, and the residence of its maharajah. He\nlodged at a khan appointed for foreign merchants; and having\nlearnt that there were four principal divisions where merchants\nof all sorts kept their shops, in the midst of which stood the\ncastle, or rather the maharajah's palace, on a large extent of\nground, as the centre of the city, surrounded by three courts,\nand each gate distant two leagues from the other, he went to one\nof these quarters the next day.\n\nPrince Houssain could not view this quarter without admiration.\nIt was large, divided into several streets, all vaulted and\nshaded from the sun, but yet very light. The shops were all of\nthe same size and proportion; and all who dealt in the same sort\nof goods, as well as all the artists of the same profession,\nlived in one street.\n\nThe number of shops stocked with all kinds of merchandizes, such\nas the finest linens from several parts of India, some painted in\nthe most lively colours, and representing men, landscapes, trees,\nand flowers; silks and brocades from Persia, China, and other\nplaces; porcelain from Japan and China; foot carpets of all\nsizes; surprised him so much, that he knew not how to believe his\neyes: but when he came to the shops of the goldsmiths and\njewellers (for those two trades were exercised by the same\nmerchants), he was in a kind of ecstasy, at beholding such\nprodigious quantities of wrought gold and silver, and was dazzled\nby the lustre of the pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and\nother precious stones exposed to sale. But if he was amazed at\nseeing so many treasures in one place, he was much more surprised\nwhen he came to judge of the wealth of the whole kingdom, by\nconsidering, that except the brahmins, and ministers of the\nidols, who profess a life retired from worldly vanity, there was\nnot an Indian, man or woman, through the extent of the kingdom,\nbut wore necklaces, bracelets, and ornaments about their legs and\nfeet, made of pearls, and precious stones, which appeared with\nthe greater lustre, as they were blacks, which colour admirably\nset off their brilliancy.\n\nAnother object which prince Houssain particularly admired was the\ngreat number of flower-sellers who crowded the streets; for the\nIndians are such great lovers of flowers that not one will stir\nwithout a nosegay of them in his hand, or a garland of them on\nhis head; and the merchants keep them in pots in their shops, so\nthat the air of the whole quarter, however extensive, is\nperfectly perfumed.\n\nAfter prince Houssain had passed through that quarter, street by\nstreet, his thoughts fully employed on the riches he had seen, he\nwas much fatigued; which a merchant perceiving, civilly invited\nhim to sit down in his shop. He accepted his offer; but had not\nbeen seated long, before he saw a crier pass with a piece of\ncarpeting on his arm, about six feet square, and crying it at\nthirty purses. The prince called to the crier, and asked to see\nthe carpeting, which seemed to him to be valued at an exorbitant\nprice, not only for the size of it, but the meanness of the\nmaterials. When he had examined it well, he told the crier that\nhe could not comprehend how so small a piece of carpeting, and of\nso indifferent an appearance, could be set at so high a price.\n\nThe crier, who took him for a merchant, replied, \"Sir, if this\nprice seems so extravagant to you, your amazement will be greater\nwhen I tell you, I have orders to raise it to forty purses, and\nnot to part with it under.\" \"Certainly,\" answered prince\nHoussain, \"it must have something very extraordinary in it, which\nI know nothing of.\" \"You have guessed right, sir,\" replied the\ncrier, \"and will own it when you come to know, that whoever sits\non this piece of carpeting may be transported in an instant\nwherever he desires to be, without being stopped by any\nobstacle.\"\n\nAt this account, the prince of the Indies, considering that the\nprincipal motive of his tour was to carry the sultan his father\nhome some singular rarity, thought that he could not meet with\nany which would afford him more satisfaction. \"If the carpeting,\"\nsaid he to the crier, \"has the virtue you attribute to it, I\nshall not think forty purses too much; but shall make you a\npresent besides.\" \"Sir,\" replied the crier, \"I have told you the\ntruth; and it will be an easy matter to convince you of it, as\nsoon as you have made the bargain for forty purses, on condition\nI shew you the experiment. But as I suppose you have not so much\nwith you, and to receive them, I must go with you to the khan\nwhere you lodge; with the leave of the master of this shop we\nwill go into the back warehouse, where I will spread the\ncarpeting; and when we have both sat down, and you have formed\nthe wish to be transported into your apartment at the khan, if we\nare not conveyed thither, it shall be no bargain, and you shall\nbe at your liberty. As to your present, as I am paid for my\ntrouble by the seller, I shall receive it as a favour, and feel\nmuch obliged by your liberality.\"\n\nOn this assurance of the crier, the prince accepted the\nconditions, and concluded the bargain; then having obtained the\nmaster's leave, they went into his back-shop, where they both sat\ndown on the carpeting; and as soon as the prince had formed his\nwish to be transported into his apartment at the khan, he in an\ninstant found himself and the crier there: as he wanted not a\nmore convincing proof of the virtue of the carpeting, he counted\nto the crier forty purses of gold, and gave him twenty pieces for\nhimself.\n\nIn this manner prince Houssain became the possessor of the\ncarpeting, and was overjoyed that at his arrival at Bisnagar he\nhad found so rare a curiosity, which he never doubted must of\ncourse gain him the possession of Nouronnihar. In short, he\nthought it impossible for the princes, his younger brothers, to\nmeet with any thing to be compared with it. It was in his power,\nby sitting on this carpeting, to be at the place of rendezvous\nthat very day; but as he would be obliged to wait there for his\nbrothers, as they had agreed, and as he was desirous of seeing\nthe maharajah of Bisnagar and his court, and to inform himself of\nthe strength, laws, customs, and religion of the kingdom, he\nchose to make a longer abode in this capital, and to spend some\nmonths in satisfying his curiosity.\n\nIt was the custom of the maharajah of Bisnagar to give all\nforeign merchants access to his person once a week; so that in\nhis assumed character prince Houssain saw him often: and as this\nprince was of an engaging presence, sensible and accomplished, he\ndistinguished himself among the merchants,  and was preferred\nbefore them all by the maharajah, who addressed himself to him to\nbe informed of the person of the sultan of the Indies, and of the\ngovernment, strength, and riches of his dominions.\n\nThe rest of his time the prince employed in viewing what was most\nremarkable in and about the city; and among the objects which\nwere most worthy of admiration, he visited a temple remarkable\nfor being built all of brass. It was ten cubits square, and\nfifteen high; but its greatest ornament was an idol of the height\nof a man, of massive gold; its eyes were two rubies, set so\nartificially, that it seemed to look at those who viewed it, on\nwhich side soever they turned: besides this, there was another\nnot less curious, in the environs of the city, in the midst of a\nlawn of about ten acres, which was like a delicious garden full\nof roses and the choicest flowers, surrounded by a low wall,\nbreast high, to keep out the cattle. In the midst of this lawn\nwas raised a terrace, a man's height, and covered with such\nbeautiful cement, that the whole pavement seemed to be but one\nsingle stone, most highly polished. A temple was erected in the\nmiddle of this terrace, having a spire rising about fifty cubits\nhigh from the building, which might be seen for several leagues\nround. The temple was thirty cubits long, and twenty broad; built\nof red marble, highly polished. The inside of the spire was\nadorned with three compartments of fine paintings: and there was\nnot a part in the whole edifice but what was embellished with\npaintings, or relievos, and gaudy idols from top to bottom.\n\nEvery night and morning there were superstitious ceremonies\nperformed in this temple, which were always succeeded by sports,\nconcerts of music, dancing, singing, and feasts. The brahmins of\nthe temple, and the inhabitants of this suburb, had nothing to\nsubsist on but the offerings of pilgrims, who came in crowds from\nthe most distant parts of the kingdom to perform their vows.\n\nPrince Houssain was also spectator of a solemn festival, which\nwas celebrated every year at the court of Bisnagar, at which all\nthe governors of provinces, commanders of fortified places, all\nheads and magistrates of towns, and the brahmins most celebrated\nfor their learning, were usually present; and some lived so far\noff, that they were four months in coming. This assembly,\ncomposed of such innumerable multitudes of Hindoos encamped in\nvariously coloured tents, on a plain of vast extent, was a\nsplendid sight, as far as the eye could reach. In the centre of\nthis plain was a square of great length and breadth, closed on\none side by a large scaffolding of nine stories, supported by\nforty pillars, raised for the maharajah and his court, and those\nstrangers whom he admitted to audience once a week: within, it\nwas adorned and furnished magnificently with rich carpets and\ncushions; and on the outside were painted landscapes, wherein all\nsorts of beasts, birds, and insects, even flies and gnats, were\ndrawn very naturally. Other scaffolds of at least four or five\nstories, and painted almost all with the same fanciful\nbrilliancy, formed the other three sides. But what was more\nparticular in these scaffolds, they could turn, and make them\nchange their fronts so as to present different decorations to the\neye every hour.\n\nOn each side of the square, at some little distance from each\nother, were ranged a thousand elephants, sumptuously caparisoned,\neach having upon his back a square wooden stage, finely gilt,\nupon which were musicians and buffoons. The trunks, ears, and\nbodies of these elephants were painted with cinnabar and other\ncolours, representing grotesque figures.\n\nBut what prince Houssain most of all admired, as a proof of the\nindustry, address, and inventive genius of the Hindoos, was to\nsee the largest of these elephants stand with his four feet on a\npost fixed into the earth, and standing out of it above two feet,\nplaying and beating time with his trunk to the music. Besides\nthis, he admired another elephant as large as the former, placed\nupon a plank, laid across a strong beam about ten feet high, with\na sufficiently heavyweight at the other end, which balanced him,\nwhile he kept time, by the motions of his body and trunk, with\nthe music, as well as the other elephant. The Hindoos, after\nhaving fastened on the counterpoise, had drawn the other end of\nthe board down to the ground, and made the elephant get upon it.\n\nPrince Houssain might have made a longer stay in the kingdom and\ncourt of Bisnagar, where he would have been agreeably diverted by\na great variety of other wonders, till the last day of the year,\nwhereon he and his brothers had appointed to meet. But he was so\nwell satisfied with what he had seen, and his thoughts ran so\nmuch upon the object of his love, that after such success in\nmeeting with his carpet, reflecting on the beauty and charms of\nthe princess Nouronnihar increased every day the violence of his\npassion, and he fancied he should be the more easy and happy the\nnearer he was to her. After he had satisfied the master of the\nkhan for his apartment, and told him the hour when he might come\nfor the key, without mentioning how he should travel, he shut the\ndoor, put the key on the outside, and spreading the carpet, he\nand the officer he had brought with him sat down upon it, and as\nsoon as he had formed his wish, were transported to the\ncaravanserai at which he and his brothers were to meet, and where\nhe passed for a merchant till their arrival.\n\nPrince Ali, the second brother, who had designed to travel into\nPersia, in conformity with the intention of the sultan of the\nIndies, took that road, having three days after he parted with\nhis brothers joined a caravan; and in four months arrived at\nSheerauz, which was then the capital of the empire of Persia; and\nhaving in the way contracted a friendship with some merchants,\npassed for a jeweller, and lodged in the same khan with them.\n\nThe next morning, while the merchants opened their bales of\nmerchandises, prince Ali, who travelled only for his pleasure,\nand had brought nothing but necessaries with him, after he had\ndressed himself, took a walk into that quarter of the town where\nthey sold precious stones, gold and silver works, brocades,\nsilks, fine linens, and other choice and valuable articles, and\nwhich was at Sheerauz called the bezestein. It was a spacious and\nwell-built street, arched over, within the arcades of which were\nshops. Prince Ali soon rambled through the bezestein, and with\nadmiration judged of the riches of the place by the prodigious\nquantities of the most precious merchandises exposed to view.\n\nBut among the criers who passed backwards and forwards with\nseveral sorts of goods, offering to sell them, he was not a\nlittle surprised to see one who held in his hand an ivory tube,\nof about a foot in length, and about an inch thick, which he\ncried at forty purses. At first he thought the crier mad, and to\ninform himself, went to a shop, and said to the merchant who\nstood at the door, \"Pray, sir, is not that man\" (pointing to the\ncrier, who cried the ivory tube at forty purses) \"mad? If he is\nnot, I am much deceived.\" \"Indeed, sir,\" answered the merchant,\n\"he was in his right senses yesterday; and I can assure you he is\none of the ablest criers we have, and the most employed of any,\nas being to be confided in when any thing valuable is to be sold;\nand if he cries the ivory tube at forty purses, it must be worth\nas much or more, on some account or other which does not appear.\nHe will come by presently, when we will call him, and you shall\nsatisfy yourself: in the mean time sit down on my sofa, and rest\nyourself.\"\n\nPrince Ali accepted the merchant's obliging offer, and presently\nafterwards the crier arrived. The merchant called him by his\nname, and pointing to the prince, said to him, \"Tell that\ngentleman, who asked me if you were in your right senses, what\nyou mean by crying that ivory tube, which seems not to be worth\nmuch, at forty purses? I should indeed be much amazed myself, if\nI did not know you were a sensible man.\" The crier, addressing\nhimself to prince Ali, said, \"Sir, you are not the only person\nthat takes me for a madman, on account of this tube; you shall\njudge yourself whether I am or no, when I have told you its\nproperty; and I hope you will value it at as high a price as\nthose I have shewed it to already, who had as bad an opinion of\nme as you have.\n\n\"First, sir,\" pursued the crier, presenting the ivory tube to the\nprince, \"observe, that this tube is furnished with a glass at\nboth ends; by looking through one of them, you will see whatever\nobject you wish to behold.\" \"I am,\" said the prince, \"ready to\nmake you all proper reparation for the reflection I have cast\nupon you, if you can make the truth of what you advance appear;\nand\" (as he had the ivory tube in his hand, after he had looked\nat the two glasses), he said, \"shew me at which of these ends I\nmust look, that I may be satisfied.\" The crier presently shewed\nhim, and he looked through; wishing, at the same time, to see the\nsultan his father, whom he immediately beheld in perfect health,\nsitting on his throne, in the midst of his council. Next, as\nthere was nothing in the world so dear to him, after the sultan,\nas the princess Nouronnihar, he wished to see her; and instantly\nbeheld her laughing, and in a gay humour, with her women about\nher.\n\nPrince All wanted no other proof to persuade him that this tube\nwas the most valuable article, not only in the city of Sheerauz,\nbut in all the world; and believed, that if he should neglect to\npurchase it, he should never meet with an equally wonderful\ncuriosity. He said to the crier, \"I am very sorry that I have\nentertained so erroneous an opinion of you, but hope to make\namends by buying the tube, for I should be sorry if any body else\nhad it; so tell me the lowest price the owner has fixed; and do\nnot give yourself any farther trouble to hawk it about, but go\nwith me and I will pay you the money.\" The crier assured him,\nwith an oath, that his last orders were to take no less than\nforty purses; and if he disputed the truth of what he said, he\nwould carry him to his employer. The prince believed him, took\nhim to the khan where he lodged, told him out the money, and\nreceived the tube.\n\nPrince Ali was overjoyed at his purchase; and persuaded himself,\nthat as his brothers would not be able to meet with any thing so\nrare and admirable, the princess Nouronnihar must be the\nrecompense of his fatigue and travels. He thought now of only\nvisiting the court of Persia incognito, and seeing whatever was\ncurious in and about Sheerauz, till the caravan with which he\ncame might be ready to return to the Indies. He satisfied his\ncuriosity, and when the caravan took its departure, the prince\njoined the former party of merchants his friends, and arrived\nhappily without any accident or trouble, further than the length\nof the journey and fatigue of travelling, at the place of\nrendezvous, where he found prince Houssain, and both waited for\nprince Ahmed.\n\nPrince Ahmed took the road of Samarcand, and the day after his\narrival, went, as his brothers had done, into the bezestein;\nwhere he had not walked long before he heard a crier, who had an\nartificial apple in his hand, cry it at five-and-thirty purses.\nHe stopped the crier, and said to him, \"Let me see that apple,\nand tell me what virtue or extraordinary property it possesses,\nto be valued at so high a rate?\" \"Sir,\" replied the crier, giving\nit into his hand, \"if you look at the mere outside of this apple\nit is not very remarkable; but if you consider its properties,\nand the great use and benefit it is of to mankind, you will say\nit is invaluable, and that he who possesses it is master of a\ngreat treasure. It cures all sick persons of the most mortal\ndiseases, whether fever, pleurisy, plague, or other malignant\ndistempers; for even if the patient is dying, it will recover him\nimmediately, and restore him to perfect health: and this merely\nby the patient's smelling to it.\"\n\n\"If one may believe you,\" replied prince Ahmed, \"the virtues of\nthis apple are wonderful, and it is indeed invaluable: but what\nground has the purchaser to be persuaded that there is no\nexaggeration in the high praises you bestow on it?\" \"Sir,\"\nreplied the crier, \"the truth is known by the whole city of\nSamarcand; but without going any farther, ask all these merchants\nyou see here, and hear what they say; you will find several of\nthem will tell you they had not been alive this day had they not\nmade use of this excellent remedy; and that you may the better\ncomprehend what it is, I must tell you it is the fruit of the\nstudy and experience of a celebrated philosopher of this city,\nwho applied himself all his lifetime to the knowledge of the\nvirtues of plants and minerals, and at last attained to this\ncomposition, by which he performed such surprising cures, as will\nnever be forgotten; but died suddenly himself, before he could\napply his own sovereign remedy; and left his wife and a great\nmany young children behind in very indifferent circumstances,\nwho, to support her family, and to provide for her children, has\nresolved to sell it.\"\n\nWhile the crier was detailing to prince Ahmed the virtues of the\nartificial apple, many persons came about them, and confirmed\nwhat he declared; and one amongst the rest said he had a friend\ndangerously ill, whose life was despaired of; which was a\nfavourable opportunity to shew the experiment. Upon which prince\nAhmed told the crier he would give him forty purses for the apple\nif it cured the sick person by smelling to it.\n\nThe crier, who had orders to sell it at that price, said to\nprince Ahmed, \"Come, sir, let us go and make the experiment, and\nthe apple shall be yours; and I say this with the greater\nconfidence, as it is an undoubted fact that it will always have\nthe same effect, as it already has had whenever it has been\napplied to save from death so many persons whose lives were\ndespaired of.\" In short, the experiment succeeded; and the\nprince, after he had counted out to the crier forty purses, and\nhad received the apple from him, waited with the greatest\nimpatience for the departure of a caravan for the Indies. In the\nmean time he saw all that was curious at and about Samarcand, and\nprincipally the valley of Sogd, which is reckoned by the Arabians\none of the four paradises of this world, for the beauty of its\nfields, gardens, and palaces, and for its fertility in fruit of\nall sorts, and all the other pleasures enjoyed there in the fine\nseason.\n\nAhmed joined himself to the first caravan that set out for the\nIndies, and notwithstanding the inevitable inconveniences of so\nlong a journey, arrived in perfect health at the caravanserai,\nwhere the princes Houssain and Ali waited for him.\n\nAli, who had arrived some time before Ahmed, asked Houssain how\nlong he had been there? who told him, \"Three months;\" to which he\nreplied, \"Then certainly you have not been very far.\" \"I will\ntell you nothing now,\" said prince Houssain, \"of where I have\nbeen, but only assure you, I was above three months travelling to\nthe place I went to.\" \"But then,\" replied prince Ali, \"you made a\nshort stay there.\" \"Indeed, brother,\" said prince Houssain, \"you\nare mistaken; I resided at one place above four months, and might\nhave stayed longer.\" \"Unless you flew back,\" returned Ali again,\n\"I cannot comprehend how you can have been three months here, as\nyou would make me believe.\"\n\n\"I tell you the truth,\" added Houssain, \"and it is a riddle which\nI shall not explain to you, till our brother Ahmed joins us; when\nI will let you know what rarity I have purchased in my travels. I\nknow not what you have got, but believe it to be some trifle,\nbecause I do not perceive that your baggage is increased.\" \"And\npray what have you brought?\" demanded prince Ali, \"for I can see\nnothing but an ordinary piece of carpeting, with which you cover\nyour sofa; and therefore I think I may return your raillery; and\nas you seem to make what you have brought a secret, you cannot\ntake it amiss that I do the same with respect to what I have\nprocured.\"\n\n\"I consider the rarity I have purchased,\" replied Houssain, \"to\nexcel all others whatever, and should not make any difficulty to\nshew it you, and make you allow that it is so, and at the same\ntime tell you how I came by it, without being in the least\napprehensive that what you have got is to be preferred to it: but\nit is proper that we should wait till our brother Ahmed arrives,\nwhen we may communicate our good fortune to each other.\"\n\nPrince All would not enter into a dispute with prince Houssain on\nthe preference he gave his rarity, but was persuaded, that if his\nperspective glass was not preferable, it was impossible it should\nbe inferior to it; and therefore agreed to stay till prince Ahmed\narrived, to produce his purchase.\n\nWhen prince Ahmed joined his brothers, they embraced with\ntenderness, and complimented each other on the happiness of\nmeeting together at the same place they had set out from.\nHoussain, as the eldest brother, then assumed the discourse, and\nsaid to them, \"Brothers, we shall have time enough hereafter to\nentertain ourselves with the particulars of our travels. Let us\ncome to that which is of the greatest importance for us to know;\nand as I do not doubt you remember the principal motive which\nengaged us to travel, let us not conceal from each other the\ncuriosities we have brought, but shew them, that we may do\nourselves justice beforehand, and judge to which of us the sultan\nour father may give the preference.\n\n\"To set the example,\" continued Houssain, \"I will tell you, that\nthe rarity which I have brought from the kingdom of Bisnagar is\nthe carpeting on which I sit, which looks but ordinary, and makes\nno shew; but when I have declared its virtues, you will be struck\nwith admiration, and confess you never heard of any thing like\nit. Whoever sits on it, as we do, and desires to be transported\nto any place, be it ever so far distant, he is immediately\ncarried thither. I made the experiment myself, before I paid the\nforty purses, which I most readily gave for it; and when I had\nfully satisfied my curiosity at the court of Bisnagar, and wished\nto return here, I made use of no other conveyance than this\nwonderful carpet for myself and servant, who can tell you how\nlong we were on our journey. I will shew you both the experiment\nwhenever you please. I expect now that you should tell me whether\nwhat you have brought is to be compared with this carpet.\"\n\nHere prince Houssain finished his commendations of the excellency\nof his carpet; and prince Ali, addressing himself to him, said,\n\"I must own, brother, that your carpet is one of the most\nsurprising curiosities, if it has, as I do not doubt, the\nproperty you speak of. But you must allow that there may be other\nrarities, I will not say more, but at least as wonderful, in\nanother way; and to convince you there are, here is an ivory\ntube, which appears to the eye no more a prodigy than your\ncarpet; it cost me as much, and I am as well satisfied with my\npurchase as you can be with yours; and you will be so just as to\nown that I have not been imposed upon, when you shall know by\nexperience, that by looking at one end you see whatever object\nyou wish to behold. I would not have you take my word,\" added\nprince Ali, presenting the tube to him; \"take it, make trial of\nit yourself.\"\n\nHoussain took the ivory tube from prince Ali, and put that end to\nhis eye which Ali directed, with an intention to see the princess\nNouronnihar; when Ali and prince Ahmed, who kept their eyes fixed\nupon him, were extremely surprised to see his countenance change\nin such a manner, as expressed extraordinary alarm and\naffliction. Prince Houssain did not give them time to ask what\nwas the matter, but cried out, \"Alas! princes, to what purpose\nhave we undertaken such long and fatiguing journeys, but with the\nhopes of being recompensed by the possession of the charming\nNouronnihar, when in a few moments that lovely princess will\nbreathe her last. I saw her in her bed, surrounded by her women\nand eunuchs, all in tears, who seem to expect her death. Take the\ntube, behold yourselves the miserable state she is in, and mingle\nyour tears with mine.\"\n\nPrince Ali took the tube out of Houssain's hand, and after he had\nseen the same object with sensible grief, presented it to Ahmed,\nwho took it, to behold the melancholy sight which so much\nconcerned them all.\n\nWhen prince Ahmed had taken the tube out of Ali's hands, and saw\nthat the princess Nouronnihar's end was so near, he addressed\nhimself to his two brothers, and said, \"Princes, the princess\nNouronnihar, equally the object of our vows, is indeed just at\ndeath's door; but provided we make haste and lose no time, we may\npreserve her life.\" He then took the artificial apple out of his\nbosom, and shewing it to his brothers, resumed, \"This apple cost\nme as much and more than either the carpet or tube. The\nopportunity which now presents itself to shew you its wonderful\nproperty makes me not regret the forty purses I gave for it. But\nnot to keep you longer in suspense, it has this virtue; if a sick\nperson smells to it, though in the last agonies, it will restore\nhim to perfect health immediately. I have made the experiment,\nand can show you its wonderful effect on the person of the\nprincess Nouronnihar, if we hasten to assist her.\"\n\n\"If that be all,\" replied prince Houssain, \"we cannot make more\ndispatch than by transporting ourselves instantly into her\nchamber by means of my carpet. Come, lose no time, sit down, it\nis large enough to hold us all: but first let us give orders to\nour servants to set out immediately, and join us at the palace.\"\n\nAs soon as the order was given, the princes Ali and Ahmed sat\ndown by Houssain, and as their interest was the same, they all\nframed the same wish, and were transported instantaneously into\nthe princess Nouronnihar's chamber.\n\nThe presence of the three princes, who were so little expected,\nalarmed the princess's women and eunuchs, who could not\ncomprehend by what enchantment three men should be among them;\nfor they did not know them at first; and the eunuchs were ready\nto fall upon them, as people who had got into a part of the\npalace where they were not allowed to come; but they presently\nfound their mistake.\n\nPrince Ahmed no sooner saw himself in Nouronnihar's chamber, and\nperceived the princess dying, but he rose off the carpet, as did\nalso the other two princes, went to the bed-side, and put the\napple to her nostrils. The princess instantly opened her eyes,\nand turned her head from one side to another, looking at the\npersons who stood about her; she then rose up in the bed, and\nasked to be dressed, with the same freedom and recollection as if\nshe had awaked out of a sound sleep. Her women presently informed\nher, in a manner that shewed their joy, that she was obliged to\nthe three princes her cousins, and particularly to prince Ahmed,\nfor the sudden recovery of her health. She immediately expressed\nher joy at seeing them, and thanked them all together, but\nafterwards prince Ahmed in particular. As she desired to dress,\nthe princes contented themselves with telling her how great a\npleasure it was to them to have come soon enough to contribute\neach in any degree towards relieving her from the imminent danger\nshe was in, and what ardent prayers they had offered for the\ncontinuance of her life; after which they retired.\n\nWhile the princess was dressing, the princes went to throw\nthemselves at the sultan their father's feet; but when they came\nto him, they found he had been previously informed of their\nunexpected arrival by the chief of the princess's eunuchs, and by\nwhat means the princess had been so suddenly cured. The sultan\nreceived and embraced them with the greatest joy, both for their\nreturn, and the wonderful recovery of the princess his niece,\nwhom he loved as if she had been his own daughter, and who had\nbeen given over by the physicians. After the usual compliments,\nthe princes presented each the rarity which he had brought:\nprince Houssain his carpet, prince Ali his ivory tube, and prince\nAhmed the artificial apple; and after each had commended his\npresent, as he put it into the sultan's hands, they begged of him\nto pronounce their fate, and declare to which of them he would\ngive the princess Nouronnihar, according to his promise.\n\nThe sultan of the Indies having kindly heard all that the princes\nhad to say in favour of their rarities, without interrupting\nthem, and being well informed of what had happened in relation to\nthe princess Nouronnihar's cure, remained some time silent,\nconsidering what answer he should make. At last he broke silence,\nand said to them in terms full of wisdom, \"I would declare for\none of you, my children, if I could do it with justice; but\nconsider whether I can? It is true, Ahmed, the princess my niece\nis obliged to your artificial apple for her cure: but let me ask\nyou, whether you could have been so serviceable to her if you had\nnot known by Ali's tube the danger she was in, and if Houssain's\ncarpet had not brought you to her so soon? Your tube, Ali,\ninformed you and your brothers that you were likely to lose the\nprincess your cousin, and so far she is greatly obliged to you.\nYou must also grant, that the knowledge of her illness would have\nbeen of no service without the artificial apple and the carpet.\nAnd as for you, Houssain, the princess would be very ungrateful\nif she did not show her sense of the value of your carpet, which\nwas so necessary a means towards effecting her cure. But\nconsider, it would have been of little use, if you had not been\nacquainted with her illness by Ali's tube, or if Ahmed had not\napplied his artificial apple. Therefore, as neither the carpet,\nthe ivory tube, nor the artificial apple has the least preference\nto the other articles, but as, on the contrary, their value has\nbeen perfectly equal, I cannot grant the princess to any one of\nyou; and the only fruit you have reaped from your travels is the\nglory of having equally contributed to restore her to health.\n\n\"As this is the case,\" added the sultan, \"you see that I must\nhave recourse to other means to determine me with certainty in\nthe choice I ought to make; and as there is time enough between\nthis and night, I will do it to-day. Go and procure each of you a\nbow and arrow, repair to the plain where the horses are\nexercised; I will soon join you, and will give the princess\nNouronnihar to him who shoots the farthest.\n\n\"I do not, however, forget to thank you all in general, and each\nin particular, for the present you have brought me. I have many\nrarities in my collection already, but nothing that comes up to\nthe miraculous properties of the carpet, the ivory tube, and the\nartificial apple, which shall have the first places among them,\nand shall be preserved carefully, not only for curiosity, but for\nservice upon all proper occasions.\"\n\nThe three princes had nothing to object to the decision of the\nsultan. When they were dismissed his presence, they each provided\nthemselves with a bow and arrow, which they delivered to one of\ntheir officers, and went to the plain appointed, followed by a\ngreat concourse of people.\n\nThe sultan did not make them wait long for him: as soon as he\narrived, prince Houssain, as the eldest, took his bow and arrow,\nand shot first. Prince Ali shot next, and much beyond him; and\nprince Ahmed last of all; but it so happened, that nobody could\nsee where his arrow fell; and notwithstanding all the search made\nby himself and all the spectators, it was not to be found. Though\nit was believed that he had shot the farthest, and had therefore\ndeserved the princess Nouronnihar, it was however necessary that\nhis arrow should be found, to make the matter more evident and\ncertain; but notwithstanding his remonstrances, the sultan\ndetermined in favour of prince Ali, and gave orders for\npreparations to be made for the solemnization of the nuptials,\nwhich were celebrated a few days after with great magnificence.\n\nPrince Houssain would not honour the feast with his presence; his\npassion for the princess Nouronnihar was so sincere and ardent,\nthat he could scarcely support with patience the mortification of\nseeing her in the arms of prince Ali: who, he said, did not\ndeserve her better nor love her more than himself. In short, his\ngrief was so violent and insupportable, that he left the court,\nand renounced all right of succession to the crown, to turn\ndervish, and put himself under the discipline of a famous chief,\nwho had gained great reputation for his exemplary life; and had\ntaken up his abode, and that of his disciples, whose number was\ngreat, in an agreeable solitude.\n\nPrince Ahmed, urged by the same motive, did not assist at prince\nAli and the princess Nouronnihar's nuptials, any more than his\nbrother Houssain, yet did not renounce the world as he had done.\nBut as he could not imagine what could have become of his arrow,\nhe resolved to search for it, that he might not have any thing to\nreproach himself with. With this intent he went to the place\nwhere the princes Houssain's and Ali's were gathered up, and\nproceeding straight forwards from thence looked carefully on both\nsides as he advanced. He went so far, that at last he began to\nthink his labour was in vain; yet he could not help proceeding\ntill he came to some steep craggy rocks, which would have obliged\nhim to return, had he been ever so desirous to continue his\ncourse.\n\nAs he approached these rocks, he perceived an arrow, which he\ntook up, looked earnestly at it, and was in the greatest\nastonishment to find it was the same he had shot. \"Certainly,\"\nsaid he to himself, \"neither I, nor any man living, could shoot\nan arrow so far; and finding it laid flat, not sticking into the\nground, he judged that it had rebounded from the rock. There must\nbe some mystery in this, said he to himself again, and it may be\nto my advantage. Perhaps fortune, to make amends for depriving me\nof what I thought the greatest happiness of my life, may have\nreserved a greater blessing for my comfort.\"\n\nAs these rocks were full of sharp points and indentures between\nthem, the prince meditating, entered into one of the cavities,\nand looking about, beheld an iron door, which seemed to have no\nlock. He feared it was fastened; but pushing against it, it\nopened, and discovered an easy descent, which he walked down with\nhis arrow in his hand. At first he thought he was going into a\ndark place, but presently a light quite different from that which\nhe had quitted succeeded; and entering into a spacious square,\nhe, to his surprise, beheld a magnificent palace, the admirable\nstructure of which he had not time to look at: for at the same\ninstant, a lady of majestic air, and of a beauty to which the\nrichness of her habit and the jewels which adorned her person\nadded no advantage, advanced, attended by a troop of ladies, or\nwhom it was difficult to distinguish which was the mistress, as\nall were so magnificently dressed.\n\nAs soon as Ahmed perceived the lady, he hastened to pay his\nrespects; and the lady seeing him coming, prevented him.\nAddressing him first, she said, \"Come near, prince Ahmed, you are\nwelcome.\"\n\nIt was with no small surprise that the prince heard himself named\nin a palace he had never heard of, though so nigh to his father's\ncapital, and he could not comprehend how he should be known to a\nlady who was a stranger to him. At last he returned the lady's\ncompliment, by throwing himself at her feet, and rising up, said\nto her, \"Lady, I return you a thousand thanks for the assurance\nyou give me of welcome to a place where I had reason to believe\nmy imprudent curiosity had made me penetrate too far. But may I,\nwithout being guilty of rudeness, presume to inquire by what\nadventure you know me? and how you who live in the same\nneighbourhood should be so little known by me?\" \"Prince,\" said\nthe lady, \"let us go into the hall; there I will gratify you in\nyour request more commodiously for us both.\"\n\nAfter these words, the lady led prince Ahmed into the hall, the\nnoble structure of which, displaying the gold and azure which\nembellished the dome, and the inestimable richness of the\nfurniture, appeared so great a novelty to him, that he could not\nforbear his admiration, but exclaimed, that he had never beheld\nits equal. \"I can assure you,\" replied the lady, \"that this is\nbut a small part of my palace, as you will judge when you have\nseen all the apartments.\" She then sat down on a sofa; and when\nthe prince at her entreaty had seated himself by her, she\ncontinued, \"You are surprised, you say, that I know you, and am\nnot known by you; but you will be no longer surprised when I\ninform you who I am. You cannot be ignorant, as the Koran informs\nyou, that the world is inhabited by genii as well as men: I am\nthe daughter of one of the most powerful and distinguished of\nthese genii, and my name is Perie Banou; therefore you ought not\nto wonder that I know you, the sultan your father, the princes\nyour brothers, and the princess Nouronnihar. I am no stranger to\nyour loves or your travels, of which I could tell you all the\ncircumstances, since it was I myself who exposed to sale the\nartificial apple which you bought at Samarcand, the carpet which\nprince Houssain purchased at Bisnagar, and the tube which prince\nAli brought from Sheerauz. This is sufficient to let you know\nthat I am not unacquainted with every thing that relates to you.\nI have to add, that you seemed to me worthy of a more happy fate\nthan that of possessing the princess Nouronnihar; and that you\nmight attain to it, I was present when you drew your arrow, and\nforesaw it would not go beyond prince Houssain's. I seized it in\nthe air, and gave it the necessary motion to strike against the\nrocks near which you found it. It is in your power to avail\nyourself of the favourable opportunity which presents itself to\nmake you happy.\"\n\nAs the fairy Perie Banou pronounced the last words with a\ndifferent tone, and looked at the same time tenderly at the\nprince, with downcast eyes and a modest blush upon her cheeks, it\nwas not difficult for him to comprehend what happiness she meant.\nHe reflected that the princess Nouronnihar could never be his,\nsaw that Perie Banou excelled her infinitely in beauty and\naccomplishments, and, as far as he could conjecture by the\nmagnificence of the palace, in immense riches. He blessed the\nmoment that he thought of seeking after his arrow a second time,\nand yielding to his inclination, which drew him towards the new\nobject which had fired his heart: he then replied, \"Should I, all\nmy life, have the happiness of being your slave, and the admirer\nof the many charms which ravish my soul, I should think myself\nthe happiest of men. Pardon the presumption which inspires me to\nask this favour, and do not refuse to admit into your court a\nprince who is entirely devoted to you.\"\n\n\"Prince,\" answered the fairy, \"as I have been, long my own\nmistress, and have no dependence on a parent's consent, it is not\nas a slave that I would admit you into my court, but as master of\nmy person, and all that belongs to me, by pledging your faith to\nme, and taking me as your wife. I hope you will not think it\nindecorous, that I anticipate you in this proposal. I am, as I\nsaid, mistress of my will; and must add, that the same customs\nare not observed among fairies as with human-kind, in whom it\nwould not have been decent to have made such advances: but it is\nwhat we do, and we suppose we confer obligation by the practice.\"\n\nAhmed made no answer to this declaration, but was so penetrated\nwith gratitude, that he thought he could not express it better\nthan by prostration to kiss the hem of her garment; which she\nwould not give him time to do, but presented her hand, which he\nkissed a thousand times, and kept fast locked in his. \"Well,\nprince Ahmed,\" said she, \"will you pledge your faith to me, as I\ndo mine to you?\" \"Yes, madam,\" replied the prince, in an ecstacy\nof joy. \"What can I do more fortunate for myself, or with greater\npleasure? Yes, my sultaness, I give it you with my heart without\nthe least reserve.\" \"Then,\" answered the fairy, \"you are my\nhusband, and I am your wife. Our fairy marriages are contracted\nwith no other ceremonies, and yet are more firm and indissoluble\nthan those among men, with all their formalities. But as I\nsuppose,\" pursued she, \"that you have eaten nothing to-day, a\nslight repast shall be served up for you while preparations are\nmaking for our nuptial feast this evening, and then I will shew\nyou the apartments of my palace.\"\n\nSome of the fairy's women who came into the hall with them, and\nguessed her intentions, went immediately out, and returned with\nsome excellent viands and wines.\n\nWhen Ahmed had refreshed himself, the fairy led him through all\nthe apartments, where he saw diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and all\nsorts of fine jewels, intermixed with pearls, agate, jasper,\nporphyry, and all kinds of the most precious marbles; not to\nmention the richness of the furniture, which was inestimable; the\nwhole disposed in such elegant profusion, that the prince\nacknowledged there could not be any thing in the world equal to\nit. \"Prince,\" said the fairy, \"if you admire my humble abode so\nmuch, what would you say to the palaces of the chiefs of our\ngenii, which are much more beautiful, spacious, and magnificent?\nI could also shew you my garden; but we will leave that till\nanother time. Night draws near, and it will be time to go to\nsupper.\"\n\nThe next hall which the fairy led the prince into, where the\ncloth was laid for the feast, was the only apartment he had not\nseen, and it was not in the least inferior to the others. At his\nentrance, he admired the infinite number of wax candles perfumed\nwith amber, the multitude of which, instead of being confused,\nwere placed with so just a symmetry, as to form an agreeable and\npleasant light. A large beaufet was set out with all sorts of\ngold plate, so finely wrought, that the workmanship was much more\nvaluable than the weight of the gold. Several bands of beautiful\nwomen richly dressed, and whose voices were ravishing, began a\nconcert, accompanied by the most harmonious instruments he had\never heard. When they were seated, the fairy took care to help\nprince Ahmed to the most delicious meats, which she named as she\ninvited him to eat of them, and which the prince had never heard\nof, but found so exquisite, that he commended them in the highest\nterms, saying, that the entertainment which she gave him far\nsurpassed those among men. He found also the same excellence in\nthe wines, which neither he nor the fairy tasted till the dessert\nwas served up, which consisted of the choicest sweetmeats and\nfruits.\n\nAfter the dessert, the fairy Perie Banou and prince Ahmed rose\nand repaired to a sofa, with cushions of fine silk, curiously\nembroidered with all sorts of large flowers, laid at their backs.\nPresently after a great number of genii and fairies danced before\nthem to the chamber where the nuptial bed was prepared; and when\nthey came to the entrance, divided themselves into two rows, to\nlet them pass, after which they made obeisance and retired.\n\nThe nuptial festivity was renewed the next day; or rather, every\nday following the celebration was a continued feast, which the\nfairy Perie Banou knew how to diversify, by new delicacies, new\nconcerts, new dances, new shows, and new diversions; which were\nall so gratifying to his senses, that Ahmed, if he had lived a\nthousand years among men, could not have experienced equal\nenjoyment.\n\nThe fairy's intention was not only to give the prince convincing\nproofs of the sincerity of her love, by so many attentions; but\nto let him see, that as he had no pretensions at his father's\ncourt, he could meet with nothing comparable to the happiness he\nenjoyed with her, independently of her beauty and attractions,\nand to attach him entirely to herself. In this attempt she\nsucceeded so well, that Ahmed's passion was not in the least\ndiminished by possession; but increased so much, that if he had\nbeen so inclined, it was not in his power to forbear loving her.\n\nAt the end of six months, prince Ahmed, who always loved and\nhonoured the sultan his father, felt a great desire to know how\nhe was; and as that desire could not be satisfied without his\nabsenting himself, he mentioned his wish to the fairy, and\nrequested she would give him leave to visit the sultan.\n\nThis request alarmed the fairy, and made her fear it was only an\nexcuse to leave her. She said to him, \"What disgust can I have\ngiven to you to ask me this permission? Is it possible you should\nhave forgotten that you have pledged your faith to me, or have\nyou ceased to love one who is so passionately fond of you? Are\nnot the proofs I have repeatedly given you of my affection\nsufficient?\"\n\n\"My queen,\" replied the prince, \"I am perfectly convinced of your\nlove, and should be unworthy of it, if I did not testify my\ngratitude by a reciprocal affection. If you are offended at the\npermission I solicit, I entreat you to forgive me, and I will\nmake all the reparation in my power. I did not make the request\nwith any intention of displeasing you, but from a motive of\nrespect towards my father, whom I wish to free from the\naffliction in which my so long absence must have overwhelmed him,\nand which must be the greater, as, I have reason to presume, he\nbelieves that I am dead. But since you do not consent that I\nshould go and afford him that comfort, I will deny myself the\npleasure, as there is nothing to which I would not submit to\nplease you.\"\n\nAhmed did not dissemble, for he loved her at heart as much as he\nhad assured her by this declaration; and the fairy expressed her\nsatisfaction. But as he could not absolutely abandon his design,\nhe frequently took an opportunity to speak to her of the great\nqualifications of the sultan his father: and above all, of his\nparticular tenderness towards himself, in hopes he might at\nlength be able to move her.\n\nAs the prince had supposed, the sultan of the Indies, in the\nmidst of the rejoicings on account of the nuptials of prince Ali\nand the princess Nouronnihar, was sensibly afflicted at the\nabsence of the other two princes his sons, though it was not long\nbefore he was informed of the resolution Houssain had taken to\nforsake the world, and the place he had chosen for his retreat.\nAs a good father, whose happiness consists in seeing his children\nabout him, especially when they are deserving of his tenderness,\nhe would have been better pleased had he stayed at his court,\nnear his person; but as he could not disapprove of his choice of\nthe state of perfection which he had entered, he supported his\nabsence more patiently. He made the most diligent search after\nAhmed, and dispatched couriers to all the provinces of his\ndominions, with orders to the governors to stop him, and oblige\nhim to return to court: but all the pains he took had not the\ndesired success, and his affliction, instead of diminishing,\nincreased. He would make it the subject of his conversation with\nhis grand vizier; and would say to him, \"Vizier, thou knowest I\nalways loved Ahmed the most of all my sons; and thou art not\ninsensible of the means I have in vain used to find him out. My\ngrief is so heavy, I shall sink under it, if thou hast not\ncompassion on me; if thou hast any regard for the preservation of\nmy life, I conjure thee to assist and advise me.\"\n\nThe grand vizier, no less attached to the person of the sultan\nthan zealous to acquit himself well of the administration of the\naffairs of state, considering how to give his sovereign some\nease, recollected a sorceress, of whom he had heard wonders, and\nproposed to send for and consult her. The sultan consented, and\nthe grand vizier, upon her arrival, introduced her into the\npresence.\n\nThe sultan said to the sorceress, \"The affliction I have been in\nsince the marriage of my son prince Ali to the princess\nNouronnihar, my niece, on account of the absence of prince Ahmed,\nis so well known, and so public, that thou canst be no stranger\nto it. By thy art and skill canst thou tell me what is become of\nhim? If he be alive, where he is? what he is doing? and if I may\nhope ever to see him again?\" To this the sorceress replied, \"It\nis impossible, sir, for me, however skilful in my profession, to\nanswer immediately the questions your majesty asks; but if you\nallow me till to-morrow, I will endeavour to satisfy you.\" The\nsultan granted her the time, and permitted her to retire, with a\npromise to recompense her munificently, if her answer proved\nagreeable to his hopes.\n\nThe sorceress returned the next day, and the grand vizier\npresented her a second time to the sultan. \"Sir,\" said she,\n\"notwithstanding all the diligence I have used in applying the\nrules of my art to obey your majesty in what you desire to know,\nI have not been able to discover any thing more than that prince\nAhmed is alive. This is certain, and you may depend upon it; but\nas to where he is I cannot discover.\"\n\nThe sultan of the Indies was obliged to remain satisfied with\nthis answer; which left him in the same uneasiness as before as\nto the prince's situation.\n\nTo return to prince Ahmed. He so often entertained the fairy\nPerie Banou with talking about his father, though without\nspeaking any more of his desire to visit him, that she fully\ncomprehended what he meant; and perceiving the restraint he put\nupon himself, and his fear of displeasing her after her first\nrefusal, she inferred, from the repeated proofs he had given her,\nthat his love for her was sincere; and judging by herself of the\ninjustice she committed in opposing a son's tenderness for his\nfather, and endeavouring to make him renounce that natural\naffection, she resolved to grant him the permission which she knew\nhe so ardently desired. One day she said to him, \"Prince, the\nrequest you made to be allowed to go and see the sultan your\nfather gave me apprehension that it was only a pretext to conceal\ninconstancy, and that was the sole motive of my refusal; but now,\nas I am fully convinced by your actions and words that I can\ndepend on your honour and the fidelity of your love, I change my\nresolution, and grant you the permission you seek, on condition\nthat you will first swear to me that your absence shall not be\nlong. You ought not to be uneasy at this condition, as if I asked\nit out of distrust. I impose it only because I know that it will\ngive you no concern, convinced, as I have already told you I am,\nof the sincerity of your love.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed would have thrown himself at the fairy's feet to\nshew his gratitude, but she prevented him. \"My sultaness,\" said\nhe, \"I am sensible of the great favour you grant me; but want\nwords to express my thanks. Supply this defect, I conjure you, by\nyour own feelings, and be persuaded I think much more. You may\nbelieve that the oath will give me no uneasiness, and I take it\nmore willingly, since it is not possible for me to live without\nyou. I go, but the haste I will make to return shall shew you,\nthat it is not the fear of being foresworn, but my inclination,\nwhich is to live with you for ever, that urges me; and if with\nyour consent I now and then deprive myself of your society, I\nshall always avoid the pain a too long absence would occasion\nme.\"\n\n\"Prince,\" replied Perie Banou, delighted with his sentiments, \"go\nwhen you please; but do not take it amiss that I give you some\nadvice how you shall conduct yourself. First, I do not think it\nproper for you to inform your father of our marriage, neither of\nmy quality, nor the place of our residence. Beg of him to be\nsatisfied with knowing that you are happy, that you want nothing\nfrom him, and let him know that the sole end of your visit is to\nmake him easy respecting your fate.\"\n\nPerie Banou then appointed twenty horsemen, well mounted and\nequipped, to attend him. When all was ready, prince Ahmed took\nhis leave of the fairy, embraced her, and renewed his promise to\nreturn soon. A charger, which was most richly caparisoned, and as\nbeautiful a creature as any in the sultan of the Indies' stables,\nwas brought to him, which he mounted with extraordinary grace,\nwhich gave great pleasure to the fairy; and after he had bidden\nher adieu, he set forward on his journey.\n\nAs it was no great distance to his father's capital, prince Ahmed\nsoon arrived there. The people, rejoiced to see him again,\nreceived him with acclamations, and followed him in crowds to the\npalace. The sultan received and embraced him with great joy;\ncomplaining at the same time, with a fatherly tenderness, of the\naffliction his long absence had occasioned; which, he said, was\nthe more distressing, as fortune having decided in favour of\nprince Ali his brother, he was afraid he might have committed\nsome act of despair.\n\n\"Sir,\" replied prince Ahmed, \"I leave it to your majesty to\nconsider, if after having lost the princess Nouronnihar, who was\nthe only object of my desires, I could bear to be a witness of\nAli's happiness. If I had been capable of such unworthy apathy,\nwhat would the court and city have thought of my love, or what\nyour majesty? Love is a passion we cannot suppress at our will;\nwhile it lasts, it rules and governs us in spite of our boasted\nreason. Your majesty knows, that when I shot my arrow, the most\nextraordinary accident that ever befell mortal happened to me,\nfor surely it was such, that in so large and level a plain as\nthat where the horses are exercised, it should not be possible to\nfind my arrow. I lost your decision in my favour, which was as\nmuch due to my love, as to that of the princes my brothers.\nThough thus vanquished by the caprice of fate, I lost no time in\nvain complaints; but to satisfy my perplexed mind, upon what I\ncould not comprehend, I left my attendants, and returned alone to\nlook for my arrow. I sought all about the place where Houssain's\nand Ali's arrows were found, and where I imagined mine must have\nfallen, but all my labour was in vain. I was not discouraged, but\ncontinued my search in a direct line, and after this manner had\ngone above a league, without being able to meet with any thing\nlike an arrow, when I reflected that it was not possible that\nmine should have flown so far. I stopped, and asked myself\nwhether I was in my right senses, to flatter myself with having\nhad strength to shoot an arrow so much farther than any of the\nstrongest archers in the world were able to do. After I had\nargued thus with myself, I was ready to abandon my enterprise;\nbut when on the point of putting my resolution in execution, I\nfound myself drawn forward against my will; and after having gone\nfour leagues, to that part of the plain where it is bounded by\nrocks, I perceived an arrow. I ran, took it up, and knew it to be\nthe same which I had shot. Far from thinking your majesty had\ndone me any injustice in declaring for my brother Ali, I\ninterpreted what had happened to me quite otherwise, and never\ndoubted there was a mystery in it to my advantage; the discovery\nof which I ought not to neglect, and which I found out without\ngoing from the spot. But as to this mystery I beg your majesty\nwill not be offended if I remain silent, and that you will be\nsatisfied to know from my own mouth that I am happy, and content\nwith my fate.\n\n\"In the midst of my happiness, the only thing that troubled me,\nor was capable of disturbing me, was the uneasiness I feared your\nmajesty would experience on account of my leaving the court, and\nyour not knowing what was become of me. I thought it my duty to\nsatisfy you in this point. This was the only motive which brought\nme hither; the only favour I ask of your majesty is to give me\nleave to come occasionally to pay you my duty, and inquire after\nyour health.\"\n\n\"Son,\" answered the sultan of the Indies, \"I cannot refuse you\nthe permission you ask, but I should much rather you would\nresolve to stay with me. At least tell me where I may hear of\nyou, if you should fail to come, or when I may think your\npresence necessary.\" \"Sir,\" replied the prince, \"what your\nmajesty requires is part of the mystery I spoke of. I beg of you\nto allow me to remain silent on this head; for I shall come so\nfrequently where my duty calls, that I am afraid I shall sooner\nbe thought troublesome than be accused of negligence, when my\npresence may be necessary.\"\n\nThe sultan of the Indies pressed Ahmed no more, but said to him,\n\"Son, I wish to penetrate no farther into your secrets, but leave\nyou at your liberty. I can only tell you, that you could not have\ndone me greater pleasure than by your presence, having restored\nto me the joy I have not felt for a long time; and that you shall\nalways be welcome when you can come, without interrupting your\nbusiness or your pleasure.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed stayed but three days at his father's court, and on\nthe fourth returned to the fairy Perie Banou, who received him\nwith the greater joy, as she did not expect him so soon. His\nexpedition made her condemn herself for suspecting his want of\nfidelity. She never dissembled, but frankly owned her weakness to\nthe prince, and asked his pardon. So perfect was the union of the\ntwo lovers, that they had but one will.\n\nA month after prince Ahmed's return from visiting his father, as\nthe fairy had observed that since the time when he gave her an\naccount of his journey, and his conversation with his father, in\nwhich he asked his permission to come and see him from time to\ntime, he had never spoken of the sultan, whereas before he was\nfrequently mentioning him, she thought he forebore on her\naccount, and therefore took an opportunity to say to him one day,\n\"Tell me, prince, have you forgotten the sultan your father? Do\nnot you remember the promise you made to pay your duty to him\noccasionally? I have not forgotten what you told me at your\nreturn, and put you in mind of it, that you may acquit yourself\nof your promise when you may feel inclined.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied Ahmed, with equal animation, \"as I know I am not\nguilty of the forgetfulness you lay to my charge, I rather choose to\nbe thus reproached, however undeservedly, than expose myself to a\nrefusal, by manifesting a desire for what it might have given you pain\nto grant.\" \"Prince,\" said the fairy, \"I would not have you in this\naffair have so much consideration for me, since it is a month since\nyou have seen the sultan your father. I think you should not be longer\nin renewing your visits. Pay him one to-morrow, and after that, go and\nvisit once a month, without speaking to me, or waiting for my\npermission. I readily consent to such an arrangement.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed went the next morning with the same attendants as\nbefore, but much more magnificently mounted, equipped, and\ndressed, and was received by the sultan with the same joy and\nsatisfaction. For several months he constantly paid him visits,\nand always in a richer and more brilliant equipage.\n\nAt last the sultan's favourites, who judged of prince Ahmed's\npower by the splendour of his appearance, abused the privilege\nthe sultan accorded them of speaking to him with freedom, to make\nhim jealous of his son. They represented that it was but common\nprudence to discover where the prince had retired, and how he\ncould afford to live so magnificently, since he had no revenue\nassigned for his expenses; that he seemed to come to court only\nto insult him, by affecting to shew that he wanted nothing from\nhis father to enable him to live like a prince; and that it was\nto be feared he might court the people's favour and dethrone him.\n\nThe sultan of the Indies was so far from thinking that prince\nAhmed could be capable of so wicked a design, that he said to\nthem in displeasure, \"You are mistaken, my son loves me, and I am\nthe more assured of his tenderness and fidelity, as I have given\nhim no reason to be disgusted.\"\n\nAt these words, one of the favourites took an opportunity to say,\n\"Your majesty, in the opinion of the most sensible people, could\nnot have taken a better method than you did with the three\nprinces, respecting their marriage with the princess Nouronnihar;\nbut who knows whether prince Ahmed has submitted to his fate with\nthe same resignation as prince Houssain? May not he imagine that\nhe alone deserved her; and that your majesty, by leaving the\nmatch to be decided by chance, has done him injustice?\n\n\"Your majesty may say,\" added the malicious favourite, \"that\nprince Ahmed has manifested no appearance of dissatisfaction;\nthat our fears are vain; that we are too easily alarmed, and are\nto blame in suggesting to you suspicions of this kind, which may,\nperhaps, be unfounded, against a prince of your blood. But, sir,\"\npursued the favourite, \"it may be also, that these suspicions are\nwell grounded. Your majesty must be sensible, that in so nice and\nimportant an affair you cannot be too much on your guard, and\nshould take the safest course. Consider, it is the prince's\ninterest to dissemble, amuse, and deceive you; and the danger is\nthe greater, as he resides not far from your capital; and if your\nmajesty give but the same attention that we do, you may observe\nthat every time he comes his attendants are different, their\nhabits new, and their arms clean and bright, as if just come from\nthe maker's hands; and their horses look as if they had only been\nwalked out. These are sufficient proofs that prince Ahmed does\nnot travel far, so that we should think ourselves wanting in our\nduty did we not make our humble remonstrances, in order that, for\nyour own preservation and the good of your people, your majesty\nmay take such measures as you shall think advisable.\"\n\nWhen the favourite had concluded these insinuations, the sultan\nsaid, \"I do not believe my son Ahmed is so wicked as you would\npersuade me he is; however, I am obliged to you for your advice,\nand do not doubt that it proceeds from good intention and loyalty\nto my person.\"\n\nThe sultan of the Indies said this, that his favourites might not\nknow the impressions their observations had made on his mind. He\nwas, however, so much alarmed by them, that he resolved to have\nprince Ahmed watched, unknown to his grand vizier. For this end\nhe sent for the sorceress, who was introduced by a private door\ninto his closet. \"You told me the truth,\" said he, \"when you\nassured me my son Ahmed was alive, for which I am obliged to you.\nYou must do me another kindness. I have seen him since, and he\ncomes to my court every month; but I cannot learn from him where\nhe resides, and do not wish to force his secret from him; but\nbelieve you are capable of satisfying my curiosity, without\nletting him, or any of my court, know any thing of the discovery.\nYou know that he is at this time with me, and usually departs\nwithout taking leave of me, or any of my court. Place yourself\nimmediately upon the road, and watch him so as to find out where\nhe retires, and bring me information.\"\n\nThe sorceress left the sultan, and knowing the place where prince\nAhmed had found his arrow, went immediately thither, and\nconcealed herself near the rocks, so as not to be seen.\n\nThe next morning prince Ahmed set out by daybreak, without taking\nleave either of the sultan or any of his court, according to\ncustom. The sorceress seeing him coming, followed him with her\neyes, till suddenly she lost sight of him and his attendants.\n\nThe steepness of the rocks formed an insurmountable barrier to\nmen, whether on horseback or on foot, so that the sorceress\njudged that the prince retired either into some cavern, or some\nsubterraneous place, the abode of genies or fairies. When she\nthought the prince and his attendants must have far advanced into\nwhatever concealment they inhabited, she came out of the place\nwhere she had hidden herself, and explored the hollow way where\nshe had lost sight of them. She entered it, and proceeding to the\nspot where it terminated after many windings, looked carefully on\nall sides. But notwithstanding all her acuteness she could\nperceive no opening, nor the iron gate which prince Ahmed had\ndiscovered. For this door was to be seen by or opened to none but\nmen, and only to those whose presence was agreeable to the fairy\nPerie Banou, but not at all to women.\n\nThe sorceress, who saw it was in vain for her to search any\nfarther, was obliged to be satisfied with the insufficient\ndiscovery she had made, and returned to communicate it to the\nsultan. When she had told him what she had explored, she added,\n\"Your majesty may easily understand, after what I have had the\nhonour to tell you, that it will be no difficult matter to obtain\nyou the satisfaction you desire concerning prince Ahmed's\nconduct. To do this, I only ask time, that you will have\npatience, and give me leave to act, without inquiring what\nmeasures I design to take.\"\n\nThe sultan was pleased with the conduct of the sorceress, and\nsaid to her, \"Do you as you think fit; I will wait patiently the\nevent of your promises:\" and to encourage her, he presented her\nwith a diamond of great value, telling her, it was only an\nearnest of the ample recompense she should receive when she\nshould have performed the important service which he left to her\nmanagement.\n\nAs prince Ahmed, after he had obtained the fairy Perie Banou's\nleave, never failed once a month to visit his father, the\nsorceress knowing the time, went a day or two before to the foot\nof the rock where she had lost sight of him and his attendants,\nand waited there to execute the project she had formed.\n\nThe next morning prince Ahmed went out as usual at the iron gate,\nwith the same attendants as before, passed the sorceress, and\nseeing her lie with her head on the rock, complaining as if she\nwas in great pain, he pitied her, turned his horse, and asked\nwhat he could do to relieve her?\n\nThe artful sorceress, without lifting up her head, looked at the\nprince in such a manner as to increase his compassion, and\nanswered in broken accents and sighs, as if she could hardly\nbreathe, that she was going to the city; but in the way was taken\nwith so violent a fever, that her strength failed her, and she\nwas forced to stop and lie down where he saw her, far from any\nhabitation, and without any hopes of assistance.\n\n\"Good woman,\" replied the prince, \"you are not so far from help\nas you imagine. I will assist you, and convey you where you shall\nnot only have all possible care taken of you, but where you will\nfind a speedy cure: rise, and let one of my people take you\nbehind him.\"\n\nAt these words, the sorceress, who pretended sickness only to\nexplore where the prince resided, and his situation, did not\nrefuse the charitable offer, and to shew her acceptance rather by\nher actions than her words, made many affected efforts to rise,\npretending that the violence of her illness prevented her. At the\nsame time, two of the prince's attendants alighting, helped her\nup, and placed her behind another. They mounted their horses\nagain, and followed the prince, who turned back to the iron gate,\nwhich was opened by one of his retinue. When he came into the\noutward court of the fairy's palace, without dismounting himself,\nhe sent to tell her he wanted to speak with her.\n\nThe fairy came with all imaginable haste, not knowing what had\nmade prince Ahmed return so soon; who, not giving her time to\nask, said, \"My princess, I desire you would have compassion on\nthis good woman,\" pointing to the sorceress, who was taken off\nthe horse by two of his retinue; \"I found her in the condition\nyou see her, and promised her the assistance she requires. I\nrecommend her to your care, and am persuaded that you, from\ninclination, as well as my request, will not abandon her.\"\n\nThe fairy, who had her eyes fixed on the pretended sick woman all\nthe time the prince was speaking, ordered two of her women to\ntake her from the men who supported her, conduct her into an\napartment of the palace, and take as much care of her as they\nwould of herself.\n\nWhilst the two women were executing the fairy's commands, she\nwent up to prince Ahmed, and whispering him in the ear, said,\n\"Prince, I commend your compassion, which is worthy of you and\nyour birth. I take great pleasure in gratifying your good\nintention; but permit me to tell you I am afraid it will be but\nill rewarded. This woman is not so sick as she pretends to be;\nand I am much mistaken if she is not sent hither on purpose to\noccasion you great trouble. But do not be concerned, let what\nwill be devised against you; be persuaded that I will deliver you\nout of all the snares that shall be laid for you. Go and pursue\nyour journey.\"\n\nThis address of the fairy's did not in the least alarm prince\nAhmed. \"My princess,\" said he, \"as I do not remember I ever did,\nor designed to do, any body injury, I cannot believe any one can\nhave a thought of injuring me; but if they have, I shall not\nforbear doing good whenever I have an opportunity.\" So saying, he\ntook leave of the fairy, and set forward again for his father's\ncapital, where he soon arrived, and was received as usual by the\nsultan, who constrained himself as much as possible, to disguise\nthe anxiety arising from the suspicions suggested by his\nfavourites.\n\nIn the mean time, the two women to whom Perie Banou had given her\norders conveyed the sorceress into an elegant apartment, richly\nfurnished. They first set her down upon a sofa, with her back\nsupported by a cushion of gold brocade, while they made a bed on\nthe same sofa, the quilt of which was finely embroidered with\nsilk, the sheets of the finest linen, and the coverlid cloth of\ngold. When they had put her into bed (for the old sorceress\npretended that her fever was so violent she could not help\nherself in the least), one of the women went out, and returned\nsoon with a china cup in her hand, full of a certain liquor,\nwhich she presented to the sorceress, while the other helped her\nto sit up. \"Drink this,\" said the attendant, \"it is the water of\nthe fountain of lions, and a sovereign remedy against fevers. You\nwill find the effect of it in less than an hour's time.\"\n\nThe sorceress, the better to dissemble, took it, after a great\ndeal of entreaty, as if she did it with reluctance. When she was\nlaid down again, the two women covered her up: \"Lie quiet,\" said\nshe, who brought her the china cup, \"and get a little sleep, if\nyou can: we will leave you, and hope to find you perfectly\nrecovered when we return an hour hence.\"\n\nThe sorceress, who came not to act a sick part long, but to\ndiscover prince Ahmed's retreat, being fully satisfied in what\nshe wanted to know, would willingly have declared that the potion\nhad then had its effect, so great was her desire to return to the\nsultan, to inform him of the success of her commission: but as\nshe had been told that the potion did not operate immediately,\nshe was forced to wait the women's return.\n\nThe two women came again at the time they had mentioned, and\nfound the sorceress seated on the sofa; who, when she saw them\nopen the door of the apartment, cried out, \"O the admirable\npotion! it has wrought its cure much sooner than you told me it\nwould, and I have waited with impatience to desire you to conduct\nme to your charitable mistress, to thank her for her kindness,\nfor which I shall always feel obliged; but being thus cured as by\na miracle, I would not lose time, but prosecute my journey.\"\n\nThe two women, who were fairies as well as their mistress, after\nthey had told the sorceress how glad they were that she was cured\nso soon, walked before her, and conducted her through several\napartments, all more superb than that wherein she had lain, into\na large hall, the most richly and magnificently furnished of all\nthe palace.\n\nPerie Banou was seated in this hall, upon a throne of massive\ngold, enriched with diamonds, rubies, and pearls of an\nextraordinary size, and attended on each hand by a great number\nof beautiful fairies, all richly dressed. At the sight of so much\nsplendour, the sorceress was not only dazzled, but so struck,\nthat after she had prostrated herself before the throne, she\ncould not open her lips to thank the fairy, as she had proposed.\nHowever, Perie Banou saved her the trouble, and said, \"Good\nwoman, I am glad I had an opportunity to oblige you, and that you\nare able to pursue your journey. I will not detain you; but\nperhaps you may not be displeased to see my palace: follow my\nwomen, and they will shew it you.\"\n\nThe old sorceress, who had not power nor courage to say a word,\nprostrated herself a second time, with her head on the carpet\nthat covered the foot of the throne, took her leave, and was\nconducted by the two fairies through the same apartments which\nwere shewn to prince Ahmed at his first arrival, and at sight of\ntheir uncommon magnificence she made frequent exclamations. But\nwhat surprised her most of all was, that the two fairies told\nher, that all she saw and so much admired was a mere sketch of\ntheir mistress's grandeur and riches; for that in the extent of\nher dominions she had so many palaces that they could not tell\nthe number of them, all of different plans and architecture, but\nequally magnificent. In speaking of many other particulars, they\nled her at last to the iron gate at which prince Ahmed had\nbrought her in; and after she had taken her leave of them, and\nthanked them for their trouble, they opened it, and wished her a\ngood journey.\n\nAfter the sorceress had gone a little way, she turned to observe\nthe door, that she might know it again, but all in vain; for, as\nwas before observed, it was invisible to her and all other women.\nExcept in this circumstance, she was very well satisfied with her\nsuccess, and posted away to the sultan. When she came to the\ncapital, she went by many by-ways to the private door of the\npalace. The sultan being informed of her arrival, sent for her\ninto his apartment, and perceiving a melancholy hang upon her\ncountenance, thought she had not succeeded, and said to her, \"By\nyour looks, I guess that your journey has been to no purpose, and\nthat you have not made the discovery I expected from your\ndiligence.\" \"Sir,\" replied the sorceress, \"your majesty must give\nme leave to represent that you ought not to judge by my looks\nwhether or no I have acquitted myself well in the execution of\nthe commands you were pleased to honour me with; but by the\nfaithful report I shall make you of all that has happened to me,\nand by which you will find that I have not neglected any thing\nthat could render me worthy of your approbation. The melancholy\nyou observe proceeds from another cause than the want of success,\nwhich I hope your majesty will have ample reason to be satisfied\nwith. I do not tell you the cause; the relation I shall give will\ninform you.\"\n\nThe sorceress now related to the sultan of the Indies how,\npretending to be sick, prince Ahmed compassionating her, had her\ncarried into a subterraneous abode, and presented and recommended\nher to a fairy of incomparable beauty, desiring her by her care\nto restore her health. She then told him with how much\ncondescension the fairy had immediately ordered two women to take\ncare of her, and not to leave her till she was recovered; which\ngreat condescension, said she, could proceed from no other\nfemale, but from a wife to a husband. Afterwards the old\nsorceress failed not to dwell on her surprise at the front of the\npalace, which she said had not its equal for magnificence in the\nworld. She gave a particular account of the care they took of\nher, after they had led her into an apartment; of the potion they\nmade her drink, and of the quickness of her cure; which she had\npretended as well as her sickness, though she doubted not the\nvirtue of the draught; the majesty of the fairy seated on a\nthrone, brilliant with jewels, the value of which exceeded all\nthe riches of the kingdom of the Indies, and all the other\ntreasures beyond computation contained in that vast palace.\n\nHere the sorceress finishing the relation of the success of her\ncommission, and continuing her discourse, said, \"What does your\nmajesty think of these unheard-of riches of the fairy? Perhaps\nyou will say, you are struck with admiration, and rejoice at the\ngood fortune of prince Ahmed your son, who enjoys them in common\nwith the fairy. For my part, sir, I beg of your majesty to\nforgive me if I take the liberty to say that I think otherwise,\nand that I shudder when I consider the misfortunes which may\nhappen to you from his present situation. And this is the cause\nof the melancholy which I could not so well dissemble, but that\nyou soon perceived it. I would believe that prince Ahmed, by his\nown good disposition, is incapable of undertaking anything\nagainst your majesty; but who can answer that the fairy, by her\nattractions and caresses, and the influence she has over him, may\nnot inspire him with the unnatural design of dethroning your\nmajesty, and seizing the crown of the Indies? This is what your\nmajesty ought to consider as of the utmost importance.\"\n\nThough the sultan of the Indies was persuaded that prince Ahmed's\nnatural disposition was good, yet he could not help being moved\nat the representations of the old sorceress, and said, \"I thank\nyou for the pains you have taken, and your wholesome caution. I\nam so sensible of its great importance that I shall take advice\nupon it.\"\n\nHe was consulting with his favourites, when he was told of the\nsorceress's arrival. He ordered her to follow him to them. He\nacquainted them with what he had learnt, communicated to them the\nreason he had to fear the fairy's influence over the prince, and\nasked them what measures they thought most proper to be taken to\nprevent so great a misfortune as might possibly happen. One of\nthe favourites, taking upon himself to speak for the rest, said,\n\"Your majesty knows who must be the author of this mischief. In\norder to prevent it, now he is in your court, and in your power,\nyou ought not to hesitate to put him under arrest; I will not say\ntake away his life, for that would make too much noise; but make\nhim a close prisoner.\" This advice all the other favourites\nunanimously applauded.\n\nThe sorceress, who thought it too violent, asked the sultan leave\nto speak, which being granted, she said, \"I am persuaded it is\nthe zeal of your counsellors for your majesty's interest that\nmakes them propose arresting prince Ahmed. But they will not take\nit amiss if I offer to your and their consideration, that if you\narrest the prince you must also detain his retinue. But they are\nall genies. Do they think it will be so easy to surprise, seize,\nand secure their persons? will they not disappear, by the\nproperty they possess of rendering themselves invisible, and\ntransport themselves instantly to the fairy, and give her an\naccount of the insult offered her husband? And can it be supposed\nshe will let it go unrevenged? Would it not be better, if by any\nother means which might not make so great a noise, the sultan\ncould secure himself against any ill designs prince Ahmed may\nhave, and not involve his majesty's honour? If his majesty has\nany confidence in my advice, as genies and fairies can do things\nimpracticable to men, he will rather trust prince Ahmed's honour,\nand engage him by means of the fairy to procure certain\nadvantages, by flattering his ambition, and at the same time\nnarrowly watching him. For example; every time your majesty takes\nthe field, you are obliged to be at a great expense, not only in\npavilions and tents for yourself and army, but likewise in mules\nand camels, and other beasts of burden, to carry their baggage.\nRequest the prince to procure you a tent, which can be carried in\na man's hand, but so large as to shelter your whole army.\n\n\"I need say no more to your majesty. If the prince brings such a\ntent, you may make other demands of the same nature, so that at\nlast he may sink under the difficulties and the impossibility of\nexecuting them, however fertile in means and inventions the\nfairy, who has enticed him from you by her enchantments, may be;\nso that in time he will be ashamed to appear, and will be forced\nto pass the rest of his life with the fairy, excluded from any\ncommerce with this world; when your majesty will have nothing to\nfear from him, and cannot be reproached with so detestable an\naction as the shedding of a son's blood, or confining him for\nlife in a prison.\"\n\nWhen the sorceress had finished her speech, the sultan asked his\nfavourites if they had any thing better to propose; and finding\nthem all silent, determined to follow her advice, as the most\nreasonable and most agreeable to his mild manner of government.\n\nThe next day when the prince came into his father's presence, who\nwas talking with his favourites, and had sat down by him, after a\nconversation on different subjects, the sultan, addressing\nhimself to prince Ahmed, said, \"Son, when you came and dispelled\nthose clouds of melancholy which your long absence had brought\nupon me, you made the place you had chosen for your retreat a\nmastery. I was satisfied with seeing you again, and knowing that\nyou were content with your condition, sought not to penetrate\ninto your secret, which I found you did not wish I should. I know\nnot what reason you had thus to treat a father, who ever was and\nstill continues anxious for your happiness. I now know your good\nfortune. I rejoice with you, and much approve of your conduct in\nmarrying a fairy so worthy of your love, and so rich and powerful\nas I am informed she is. Powerful as I am, it was not possible\nfor me to have procured for you so great a match. Now you are\nraised to so high a rank, as to be envied by all but a father, I\nnot only desire to preserve the good understanding which has\nhitherto subsisted between us, but request that you will use your\ninfluence with your wife, to obtain her assistance when I may\nwant it. I will therefore make a trial of your interest this day.\n\n\"You are not insensible at what a great expense, not to say\ntrouble to my generals, officers, and myself, every time I take\nthe field, they provide tents, mules, camels, and other beasts of\nburden, to carry them. If you consider the pleasure you would do\nme, I am persuaded you could easily procure from the fairy a\npavilion that might be carried in a man's hand, and which would\nextend over my whole army; especially when you let her know it is\nfor me. Though it may be a difficult thing to procure, she will\nnot refuse you. All the world knows fairies are capable of\nexecuting most extraordinary undertakings.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed never expected that the sultan his father would have\nmade a demand like this, which appeared to him so difficult, not\nto say impossible. Though he knew not absolutely how great the\npower of genii and fairies was, he doubted whether it extended so\nfar as to furnish such a tent as his father desired. Moreover, he\nhad never asked any thing of the fairy Perie Banou, but was\nsatisfied with the continual proofs she had given him of her\npassion, and had neglected nothing to persuade her that his heart\nperfectly corresponded without any views beyond maintaining\nhimself in her good graces: he was therefore in the greatest\nembarrassment what answer to make. At last he replied, \"If, sir,\nI have concealed from your majesty what has happened to me, and\nwhat course I took after finding my arrow, the reason was, that I\nthought it of no great importance to you to be informed of such\ncircumstances; and though I know not how this mystery has been\nrevealed to you, I cannot deny but your information is correct. I\nhave married the fairy you speak of. I love her, and am persuaded\nshe loves me in return. But I can say nothing as to the influence\nyour majesty believes I have over her. It is what I have not yet\nproved, nor thought of trying, but could wish you would dispense\nwith my making the experiment, and let me enjoy the happiness of\nloving and being beloved, with all that disinterestedness I had\nproposed to myself. However, the demand of a father is a command\nupon every child, who, like me, thinks it his duty to obey him in\nevery thing. And though it is with the greatest reluctance, I\nwill not fail to ask my wife the favour your majesty desires, but\ncannot promise you to obtain it; and if I should not have the\nhonour to come again to pay you my respects, it will be the sign\nthat I have not been able to succeed in my request: but\nbeforehand, I desire you to forgive me, and consider that you\nyourself have reduced me to this extremity.\"\n\n\"Son,\" replied the sultan of the Indies, \"I should be sorry that\nwhat I ask should oblige you to deprive me of the gratification\nof seeing you as usual. I find you do not know the power a\nhusband has over a wife; and yours would shew that her love to\nyou was very slight, if, with the power she possesses as a fairy,\nshe should refuse so trifling a request as that I have begged you\nto make. Lay aside your fears, which proceed from your believing\nyourself not to be loved so well as you love her. Go; only ask\nher. You will find the fairy loves you better than you imagine;\nand remember that people, for want of requesting, often lose\ngreat advantages. Think with yourself, that as you love her, you\ncould refuse her nothing; therefore, if she loves you, she will\nnot deny your requests.\"\n\nAll these representations of the sultan of the Indies could not\nsatisfy prince Ahmed, who would rather he had asked anything else\nthan, as he supposed, what must expose him to the hazard of\ndispleasing his beloved Perie Banou; and so great was his\nvexation that he left the court two days sooner than he used to\ndo.\n\nWhen he returned, the fairy, to whom he always before had\nappeared with a gay countenance, asked him the cause of the\nalteration she perceived in his looks; and finding that instead\nof answering he inquired after her health, to avoid satisfying\nher, she said to him, \"I will answer your question when you have\nanswered mine.\" The prince declined a long time, protesting that\nnothing was the matter with him; but the more he denied the more\nshe pressed him, and said, \"I cannot bear to see you thus: tell\nme what makes you uneasy, that I may remove the cause, whatever\nit may be; for it must be very extraordinary if it is out of my\npower, unless it be the death of the sultan your father; in that\ncase, time, with all that I will contribute on my part, can alone\ncomfort you.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed could not long withstand the pressing instances of\nthe fairy. \"Madam,\" said he, \"God prolong the sultan my father's\nlife, and bless him to the end of his days. I left him alive and\nin perfect health; therefore that is not the cause of the\nmelancholy you perceive in me. The sultan, however, is the\noccasion of it, and I am the more concerned because he has\nimposed upon me the disagreeable necessity of importuning you.\nYou know the care I have at your desire taken to conceal from him\nthe happiness I have enjoyed in living with you, and of having\nreceived the pledge of your faith after having pledged my love to\nyou. How he has been informed of it I cannot tell.\"\n\nHere the fairy interrupted prince Ahmed, and said, \"But I know.\nRemember what I told you of the woman who made you believe she\nwas sick, on whom you took so much compassion. It is she who has\nacquainted your father with what you have taken so much care to\nhide from him. I told you that she was no more sick than you or\nI, and she has made it appear so; for, in short, after the two\nwomen, whom I charged to take care of her, had given her the\nwater sovereign against all fevers, but which however she had no\noccasion for, she pretended that it had cured her, and was\nbrought to take her leave of me that she might go the sooner to\ngive an account of the success of her undertaking. She was in so\nmuch haste, that she would have gone away without seeing my\npalace if I had not, by bidding my two women shew it her, given\nher to understand that it was worth her seeing. But proceed and\ntell me what is the necessity your father has imposed on you to\nbe so importunate, which, be persuaded, however, you can never be\nto your affectionate wife.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" pursued prince Ahmed, \"you may have observed that\nhitherto I have been content with your love, and have never asked\nyou any other favour: for what, after the possession of so\namiable a wife, can I desire more? I know how great your power\nis, but I have taken care not to make proof of it to please\nmyself. Consider then, I conjure you, that it is not myself, but\nthe sultan my father, who, indiscreetly as I think, asks of you a\npavilion large enough to shelter him, his court, and army, from\nthe violence of the weather, when he takes the field, and which a\nman may carry in his hand. Once more remember it is not I, but\nthe sultan my father who asks this favour.\"\n\n\"Prince,\" replied the fairy smiling, \"I am sorry that so trifling\na matter should disturb and make you so uneasy as you appear. I\nsee plainly two things have contributed towards it: one is, the\nlaw you have imposed on yourself, to be content with loving me,\nbeing beloved by me, and deny yourself the liberty of soliciting\nthe least favour that might try my power. The other, I do not\ndoubt, whatever you may say, was, that you thought that what your\nfather asked was out of my power. As to the first, I commend you,\nand shall love you the better, if possible, for it; and for the\nsecond, I must tell you that what the sultan your father requests\nis a trifle; as upon occasion I can do him more important\nservice. Therefore be easy in your mind, and persuaded that far\nfrom thinking myself importuned I shall always take real pleasure\nin performing whatever you can desire.\" Perie Banou then sent for\nher treasurer, to whom, when she came, she said, \"Noor-Jehaun\"\n(which was her name), \"bring me the largest pavilion in my\ntreasury.\" Noor-Jehaun returned presently with a pavilion, which\ncould not only be held, but concealed in the palm of the hand,\nwhen it was closed, and presented it to her mistress, who gave it\nprince Ahmed to look at.\n\nWhen prince Ahmed saw the pavilion, which the fairy called the\nlargest in her treasury, he fancied she had a mind to banter him,\nand his surprise soon appeared in his countenance; which Perie\nBanou perceiving, she burst out a laughing. \"What! prince,\" cried\nshe, \"do you think I jest with you? You will see that I am in\nearnest. Noor-Jehaun,\" said she to her treasurer, taking the tent\nout of prince Ahmed's hands, \"go and set it up, that he may judge\nwhether the sultan his father will think it large enough.\"\n\nThe treasurer went out immediately with it from the palace, and\ncarried it to such a distance, that when she had set it up, one\nend reached to the palace. The prince, so far from thinking it\nsmall, found it large enough to shelter two armies as numerous as\nthat of the sultan his father; and then said to Perie Banou, \"I\nask my princess a thousand pardons for my incredulity: after what\nI have seen, I believe there is nothing impossible to you.\" \"You\nsee,\" said the fairy, \"that the pavilion is larger than your\nfather may have occasion for; but you are to observe that it has\none property, that it becomes larger or smaller, according to the\nextent of the army it is to cover, without applying any hands to\nit.\"\n\nThe treasurer took down the tent again, reduced it to its first\nsize, brought it and put it into the prince's hands. He took it,\nand without staying longer than till the next day, mounted his\nhorse, and went with the usual attendants to the sultan his\nfather.\n\nThe sultan, who was persuaded that such a tent as he had asked\nfor was beyond all possibility, was in great surprise at the\nprince's speedy return. He took the tent, but after he had\nadmired its smallness, his amazement was so great that he could\nnot recover himself when he had set it up in the great plain\nbefore-mentioned, and found it large enough to shelter an army\ntwice as large as he could bring into the field. Regarding this\nexcess in its dimension as what might be troublesome in the use,\nprince Ahmed told him that its size would always be\nproportionable to his army.\n\nTo outward appearance the sultan expressed great obligation to\nthe prince for so noble a present, desiring him to return his\nthanks to the fairy; and to shew what a value he set upon it,\nordered it to be carefully laid up in his treasury. But within\nhimself he felt greater jealousy than his flatterers and the\nsorceress had suggested to him; considering, that by the fairy's\nassistance the prince his son might perform things infinitely\nabove his own power, notwithstanding his greatness and riches;\ntherefore, more intent upon his ruin, he went to consult the\nsorceress again, who advised him to engage the prince to bring\nhim some of the water of the fountain of lions.\n\nIn the evening, when the sultan was surrounded as usual by all\nhis court, and the prince came to pay his respects among the\nrest, he addressed himself to him in these words: \"Son, I have\nalready expressed to you how much I am obliged for the present of\nthe tent you have procured me, which I esteem the most valuable\ncuriosity in my treasury: but you must do one thing more, which\nwill be no less agreeable to me. I am informed that the fairy\nyour spouse makes use of a certain water, called the water of the\nfountain of lions, which cures all sorts of fevers, even the most\ndangerous; and as I am perfectly well persuaded my health is dear\nto you, I do not doubt but you will ask her for a bottle of that\nwater, and bring it me as a sovereign remedy, which I may use as\nI have occasion. Do me this important service, and complete the\nduty of a good son towards a tender father.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed, who believed that the sultan his father would have\nbeen satisfied with so singular and useful a tent as that which\nhe had brought, and that he would not have imposed any new task\nupon him which might hazard the fairy's displeasure, was\nthunderstruck at this new request, notwithstanding the assurance\nshe had given him of granting him whatever lay in her power.\nAfter a long silence, he said, \"I beg of your majesty to be\nassured, that there is nothing I would not undertake to procure\nwhich may contribute to the prolonging of your life, but I could\nwish it might not be by the means of my wife. For this reason I\ndare not promise to bring the water. All I can do is, to assure\nyou I will request it of her; but it will be with as great\nreluctance as I asked for the tent.\"\n\nThe next morning prince Ahmed returned to the fairy Perie Banou,\nand related to her sincerely and faithfully all that had passed\nat his father's court from the giving of the tent, which he told\nher he received with the utmost gratitude, to the new request he\nhad charged him to make. He added: \"But, my princess, I only tell\nyou this as a plain account of what passed between me and my\nfather. I leave you to your own pleasure, whether you will\ngratify or reject this his new desire. It shall be as you\nplease.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" replied the fairy, \"I am glad that the sultan of the\nIndies knows that you are not indifferent to me. I will satisfy\nhim, and whatever advice the sorceress may give him (for I see\nthat he hearkens to her counsel), he shall find no fault with you\nor me. There is much wickedness in this demand, as you will\nunderstand by what I am going to tell you. The fountain of lions\nis situated in the middle of a court of a great castle, the\nentrance into which is guarded by four fierce lions, two of which\nsleep alternately, while the other two are awake. But let not\nthat frighten you. I will supply you with means to pass by them\nwithout danger.\"\n\nThe fairy Perie Banou was at that time at work with her needle;\nand as she had by her several clues of thread, she took up one,\nand presenting it to prince Ahmed, said, \"First take this clue of\nthread, I will tell you presently the use of it. In the second\nplace, you must have two horses; one you must ride yourself, and\nthe other you must lead, which must be loaded with a sheep cut\ninto four quarters, that must be killed to-day. In the third\nplace, you must be provided with a bottle, which I will give you,\nto bring the water in. Set out early to-morrow morning, and when\nyou have passed the iron gate throw before you the clue of\nthread, which will roll till it reaches the gates of the castle.\nFollow it, and when it stops, as the gates will be open, you will\nsee the four lions. The two that are awake will, by their\nroaring, wake the other two. Be not alarmed, but throw each of\nthem a quarter of the sheep, and then clap spurs to your horse,\nand ride to the fountain. Fill your bottle without alighting, and\nreturn with the same expedition. The lions will be so busy eating\nthey will let you pass unmolested.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed set out the next morning at the time appointed him\nby the fairy, and followed her directions punctually. When he\narrived at the gates of the castle, he distributed the quarters\nof the sheep among the four lions, and passing through the midst\nof them with intrepidity, got to the fountain, filled his bottle,\nand returned safe. When he had got a little distance from the\ncastle gates, he turned about; and perceiving two of the lions\ncoming after him, drew his sabre, and prepared himself for\ndefence. But as he went forwards, he saw one of them turn out of\nthe road at some distance, and shewed by his head and tail that\nhe did not come to do him any harm, but only to go before him,\nand that the other stayed behind to follow. He therefore put his\nsword again into its scabbard. Guarded in this manner he arrived\nat the capital of the Indies; but the lions never left him till\nthey had conducted him to the gates of the sultan's palace; after\nwhich they returned the way they had come, though not without\nalarming the populace, who fled or hid themselves to avoid them,\nnotwithstanding they walked gently and shewed no signs of\nfierceness.\n\nA number of officers came to attend the prince while he\ndismounted, and conduct him to the sultan's apartment, who was at\nthat time conversing with his favourites. He approached the\nthrone, laid the bottle at the sultan's feet, kissed the rich\ncarpet which covered the footstool, and rising, said, \"I have\nbrought you, sir, the salutary water which your majesty so much\ndesired to store up among other rarities in your treasury; but at\nthe same time wish you such health as never to have occasion to\nmake use of it.\"\n\nAfter the prince had concluded his compliment, the sultan placed\nhim on his right hand, and said, \"Son, I am much obliged to you\nfor this valuable present; as also for the great danger you have\nexposed yourself to on my account (which I have been informed of\nby the sorceress, who knows the fountain of lions); but do me the\npleasure, continued he, to inform me by what address, or rather\nby what incredible power, you have been preserved.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied prince Ahmed, \"I have no share in the compliment\nyour majesty is pleased to make me; all the honour is due to the\nfairy my spouse, and I take no other merit than that of having\nfollowed her advice.\" Then he informed the sultan what that\nadvice was, by the relation of his expedition, and how he had\nconducted himself. When he had done, the sultan, who shewed\noutwardly all the demonstrations of joy, but secretly became more\nand more jealous, retired into an inward apartment, whence he\nsent for the sorceress.\n\nThe sorceress, on her arrival, saved the sultan the trouble of\ntelling her of the success of prince Ahmed's journey, which she\nhad heard before she came, and therefore was prepared with a new\nrequest. This she communicated to the sultan, who declared it the\nnext day to the prince, in the midst of all his courtiers, in\nthese words: \"Son, I have one thing yet to ask of you; after\nwhich, I shall expect nothing more from your obedience, nor your\ninterest with your wife. This request is, to bring me a man not\nabove a foot and a half high, whose beard is thirty feet long,\nwho carries upon his shoulders a bar of iron of five hundred\nweight, which he uses as a quarter-staff, and who can speak.\"\n\nPrince Ahmed, who did not believe that there was such a man in\nthe world as his father had described, would gladly have excused\nhimself; but the sultan persisted in his demand, and told him the\nfairy could do more incredible things.\n\nNext day the prince returned to the subterraneous kingdom of\nPerie Banou, to whom he related his father's new demand, which,\nhe said, he looked upon to be a thing more impossible than the\ntwo first. \"For,\" added he, \"I cannot imagine there is or can be\nsuch a man in the world; without doubt he has a mind to try\nwhether I am silly enough to search, or if there is such a man he\nseeks my ruin. In short, how can we suppose that I should lay\nhold of a man so small, armed as he describes? what arms can I\nuse to reduce him to submission? If there are any means, I beg\nyou will tell me how I may come off with honour this time also.\"\n\n\"Do not alarm yourself, prince,\" replied the fairy: \"you ran a\nrisk in fetching the water of the fountain of the lions for your\nfather; but there is no danger in finding this man. It is my\nbrother Schaibar, who is so far from being like me, though we\nboth had the same father, that he is of so violent a nature, that\nnothing can prevent his giving bloody marks of his resentment for\na slight offence; yet, on the other hand, is so liberal as to\noblige any one in whatever they desire. He is made exactly as the\nsultan your father has described him; and has no other arms than\na bar of iron of five hundred pounds weight, without which he\nnever stirs, and which makes him respected. I will send for him,\nand you shall judge of the truth of what I tell you; but prepare\nyourself not to be alarmed at his extraordinary figure.\" \"What!\nmy queen,\" replied prince Ahmed, \"do you say Schaibar is your\nbrother? Let him be ever so ugly or deformed I shall be so far\nfrom being frightened at his appearance, that I shall love and\nhonour him, and consider him as my nearest relation.\"\n\nThe fairy ordered a gold chafing-dish to be set with a fire in it\nunder the porch of her palace, with a box of the same metal: out\nof the latter she took some incense, and threw it into the fire,\nwhen there arose a thick cloud of smoke.\n\nSome moments after, the fairy said to prince Ahmed, \"Prince,\nthere comes my brother; do you see him?\" The prince immediately\nperceived Schaibar, who was but a foot and a half high, coming\ngravely with his heavy bar on his shoulder; his beard thirty feet\nlong, which supported itself before him, and a pair of thick\nmoustaches in proportion, tucked up to his ears, and almost\ncovering his face: his eyes were very small, like a pig's, and\ndeep sunk in his head, which was of an enormous size, and on\nwhich he wore a pointed cap: besides all this, he had a hump\nbehind and and before.\n\nIf prince Ahmed had not known that Schaibar was Perie Banou's\nbrother, he would not have been able to behold him without fear;\nbut knowing who he was, he waited for him with the fairy, and\nreceived him without the least concern.\n\nSchaibar, as he came forwards, looked at the prince with an eye\nthat would have chilled his soul in his body, and asked Perie\nBanou, when he first accosted her, who that man was? To which she\nreplied, \"He is my husband, brother; his name is Ahmed; he is a\nson of the sultan of the Indies. The reason why I did not invite\nyou to my wedding was, I was unwilling to divert you from the\nexpedition you were engaged in, and from which I heard with\npleasure you returned victorious; on his account I have taken the\nliberty now to call for you.\"\n\nAt these words, Schaibar, looking at prince Ahmed with a\nfavourable eye, which however diminished neither his fierceness\nnor savage look, said, \"Is there any thing, sister, wherein I can\nserve him? he has only to speak. It is enough for me that he is\nyour husband, to engage me to do for him whatever he desires.\"\n\"The sultan his father,\" replied Perie Banou, \"has a curiosity to\nsee you, and I desire he may be your guide to the sultan's\ncourt.\" \"He needs but lead the way; I will follow him,\" replied\nSchaibar. \"Brother,\" resumed Perie Banou, \"it is too late to go\nto-day, therefore stay till to-morrow morning; and in the mean\ntime, as it is fit you should know all that has passed between\nthe sultan of the Indies and prince Ahmed since our marriage, I\nwill inform you this evening.\"\n\nThe next morning, after Schaibar had been informed of all that\nwas proper for him to know, he set out with prince Ahmed, who was\nto present him to the sultan. When they arrived at the gates of\nthe capital, the people, as soon as they saw Schaibar, ran and\nhid themselves in their shops and houses, shutting their doors,\nwhile others taking to their heels, communicated their fear to\nall they met, who stayed not to look behind them; insomuch, that\nSchaibar and prince Ahmed, as they went along, found all the\nstreets and squares desolate, till they came to the palace, where\nthe porters, instead of preventing Schaibar from entering, ran\naway too; so that the prince and he advanced without any obstacle\nto the council-hall, where the sultan was seated on his throne\nand giving audience. Here likewise the officers, at the approach\nof Schaibar, abandoned their posts, and gave them free\nadmittance.\n\nSchaibar, carrying his head erect, went fiercely up to the\nthrone, without waiting to be presented by prince Ahmed, and\naccosted the sultan of the Indies in these words: \"You have asked\nfor me,\" said he; \"see, here I am, what would you have with me?\"\n\nThe sultan, instead of answering, clapped his hands before his\neyes, and turned away his head, to avoid the sight of so terrible\nan object. Schaibar was so much provoked at this uncivil and rude\nreception, after he had given him the trouble to come so far,\nthat he instantly lifted up his iron bar, saying, \"Speak, then;\"\nlet it fall on his head, and killed him, before prince Ahmed\ncould intercede in his behalf. All that he could do was to\nprevent his killing the grand vizier, who sat not far from him on\nhis right hand, representing to him that he had always given the\nsultan his father good advice. \"These are they then,\" said\nSchaibar, \"who gave him bad;\" and as he pronounced these words,\nhe killed all the other viziers on the right and left, flatterers\nand favourites of the sultan, who were prince Ahmed's enemies.\nEvery time he struck he crushed some one or other, and none\nescaped but those who, not rendered motionless by fear, saved\nthemselves by flight.\n\nWhen this terrible execution was over, Schaibar came out of the\ncouncil-hall into the court-yard with the iron bar upon his\nshoulder, and looking at the grand vizier, who owed his life to\nprince Ahmed, said, \"I know there is here a certain sorceress,\nwho is a greater enemy of the prince my brother-in-law than all\nthose base favourites I have chastised; let her be brought to me\nimmediately.\" The grand vizier instantly sent for her, and as\nsoon as she was brought, Schaibar, knocking her down with his\niron bar, said, \"Take the reward of thy pernicious counsel, and\nlearn to feign sickness again;\" he left her dead on the spot.\n\nAfter this he said, \"This is not yet enough; I will treat the\nwhole city in the same manner, if they do not immediately\nacknowledge prince Ahmed my brother-in-law as sultan of the\nIndies.\" Then all who were present made the air ring with the\nrepeated acclamations of \"Long life to sultan Ahmed;\" and\nimmediately after, he was proclaimed through the whole\nmetropolis. Schaibar caused him to be clothed in the royal\nvestments, installed him on the throne, and after he had made all\nswear homage and fidelity, returned to his sister Perie Banou,\nwhom he brought with great pomp, and made her to be owned\nsultaness of the Indies.\n\nAs for prince Ali and princess Nouronnihar, as they had no\nconcern in the conspiracy, prince Ahmed assigned them a\nconsiderable province, with its capital, where they spent the\nrest of their lives. Afterwards he sent an officer to Houssain,\nto acquaint him with the change, and make him an offer of any\nprovince he might choose; but that prince thought himself so\nhappy in his solitude, that he desired the officer to return his\nbrother thanks for the kindness he designed him, assuring him of\nhis submission; but that the only favour he desired was, to be\nindulged with leave to live retired in the place he had chosen\nfor his retreat.\n\n\n\n\n           THE STORY OF THE SISTERS WHO ENVIED THEIR\n                        YOUNGER SISTER.\n\n\n\nThere was an emperor of Persia named Khoosroo Shaw, who, when he\nfirst came to his crown, in order to obtain a knowledge of\naffairs, took great pleasure in night adventures, attended by a\ntrusty minister. He often walked in disguise through the city,\nand met with many adventures.\n\nAfter the ceremonies of his father's funeral-rites and his own\ninauguration were over, the new sultan, as well from inclination\nas duty, went out one evening attended by his grand vizier,\ndisguised like himself, to observe what was transacting in the\ncity. As he was passing through a street in that part of the town\ninhabited only by the meaner sort, he heard some people talking\nvery loud; and going close to the house whence the noise\nproceeded, and looking through a crack in the door, perceived a\nlight, and three sisters sitting on a sofa, conversing together\nafter supper. By what the eldest said, he presently understood\nthe subject of their conversation was wishes: \"For,\" said she,\n\"since we have got upon wishes, mine shall be to have the\nsultan's baker for my husband, for then I shall eat my fill of\nthat bread, which by way of excellence is called the sultan's:\nlet us see if your tastes are as good as mine.\" \"For my part,\"\nreplied the second sister, \"I wish I was wife to the sultan's\nchief cook, for then I should eat of the most excellent dishes;\nand as I am persuaded that the sultan's bread is common in the\npalace, I should not want any of that; therefore you see,\"\naddressing herself to her eldest sister, \"that I have a better\ntaste than you.\"\n\nThe youngest sister, who was very beautiful, and had more charms\nand wit than the two elder, spoke in her turn: \"For my part,\nsisters,\" said she, \"I shall not limit my desires to such\ntrifles, but take a higher flight; and since we are upon wishing,\nI wish to be the emperor's queen consort. I would make him father\nof a prince, whose hair should be gold on one side of his head,\nand silver on the other; when he cried, the tears from his eyes\nshould be pearl; and when he smiled, his vermilion lips should\nlook like a rose-bud fresh blown.\"\n\nThe three sisters' wishes, particularly that of the youngest,\nseemed so singular to the sultan, that he resolved to gratify\nthem in their desires; but without communicating his design to\nhis grand vizier, he charged him only to take notice of the\nhouse, and bring the three sisters before him the following day.\n\nThe grand vizier, in executing the emperor's orders, would but\njust give the sisters time to dress themselves to appear before\nhim, without telling them the reason. He brought them to the\npalace, and presented them to the emperor, who said to them, \"Do\nyou remember the wishes you expressed last night, when you were\nall in so pleasant a mood? Speak the truth; I must know what they\nwere.\"\n\nAt these unexpected words of the emperor, the three sisters were\nmuch confounded. They cast down their eyes and blushed, and the\ncolour which rose in the cheeks of the youngest quite captivated\nthe emperor's heart. Modesty, and fear lest they might have\noffended the emperor by their conversation, kept them silent. The\nemperor perceiving their confusion, said, to encourage them,\n\"Fear nothing, I did not send for you to distress you; and since\nI see that is the effect of the question I asked, without my\nintending it, as I know the wish of each, I will relieve you from\nyour fears. You,\" added he, \"who wished to be my wife shall have\nyour desire this day; and you,\" continued he, addressing himself\nto the two elder sisters, \"shall also be married to my chief\nbaker and cook.\"\n\nAs soon as the sultan had declared his pleasure, the youngest\nsister, setting her eldest an example, threw herself at the\nemperor's feet, to express her gratitude. \"Sir,\" said she, \"my\nwish, since it is come to your majesty's knowledge, was expressed\nonly in the way of conversation and amusement. I am unworthy of\nthe honour you do me, and supplicate your pardon for my\npresumption.\" The two other sisters would have excused themselves\nalso; but the emperor interrupting them, said, \"No, no; it shall\nbe as I have declared; every one's wish shall be fulfilled.\"\n\nThe nuptials were all celebrated that day, as the emperor had\nresolved, but in a different manner. The youngest sister's were\nsolemnized with all the rejoicings usual at the marriages of the\nemperors of Persia; and those of the other two sisters according\nto the quality and distinction of their husbands; the one as the\nsultan's chief baker, and the other as head cook.\n\nThe two elder felt strongly the disproportion of their marriages\nto that of their younger sister. This consideration made them far\nfrom being content, though they were arrived at the utmost height\nof their late wishes, and much beyond their hopes. They gave\nthemselves up to an excess of jealousy, which not only disturbed\ntheir joy, but was the cause of great troubles and afflictions to\nthe queen consort their younger sister. They had not an\nopportunity to communicate their thoughts to each other on the\npreference the emperor had given her, but were altogether\nemployed in preparing themselves for the celebration of their\nmarriages. Some days afterwards, when they had an opportunity of\nseeing each other at the public baths, the eldest said to the\nother, \"Well, what say you to our sister's great fortune? Is not\nshe a fine person to be a queen!\" \"I must own,\" said the other\nsister, \"I cannot conceive what charms the emperor could discover\nto be so bewitched by the young gipsy. Was it a reason sufficient\nfor him not to cast his eyes on you, because she was somewhat\nyounger? You were as worthy of his bed; and in justice he ought\nto have preferred you.\"\n\n\"Sister,\" said the elder, \"I should not have regretted if his\nmajesty had but pitched upon you; but that he should choose that\nhussy really grieves me. But I will revenge myself; and you, I\nthink, are as much concerned as me; therefore I propose that we\nshould contrive measures, and act in concert in a common cause:\ncommunicate to me what you think the likeliest way to mortify\nher, while I, on my side, will inform you what my desire of\nrevenge shall suggest to me.\"\n\nAfter this wicked agreement, the two sisters saw each other\nfrequently, and consulted how they might disturb and interrupt\nthe happiness of the queen. They proposed a great many ways, but\nin deliberating about the manner of executing them, found so many\ndifficulties, that they durst not attempt them. In the mean time,\nthey often went together to make her visits with a detestable\ndissimulation, and every time shewed her all the marks of\naffection they could devise, to persuade her how overjoyed they\nwere to have a sister raised to so high a fortune. The queen, on\nher part, constantly received them with all the demonstrations of\nesteem they could expect: from a sister who was not puffed up\nwith her high dignity, and loved them as cordially as before.\n\nSome months after her marriage, the queen found herself to be\nwith child. The emperor expressed great joy, which was\ncommunicated to all the court, and spread throughout the empire\nof Persia. Upon this news the two sisters came to pay their\ncompliments, and proffered their service to deliver her, desiring\nher, if not provided with a midwife, to accept of them.\n\nThe queen said to them most obligingly, \"Sisters, I should desire\nnothing more, if it was absolutely in my power to make the\nchoice. I am however obliged to you for your good-will, but must\nsubmit to what the emperor shall order on this occasion. Let your\nhusbands employ their friends to make interest, and get some\ncourtier to ask this favour of his majesty; and if he speaks to\nme about it, be assured that I shall not only express the\npleasure he does me, but thank him for making choice of you.\"\n\nThe two husbands applied themselves to some courtiers their\npatrons, and begged of them to use their interest to procure\ntheir wives the honour they aspired to. Those patrons exerted\nthemselves so much in their behalf, that the emperor promised\nthem to consider of the matter, and was as good as his word; for\nin conversation with the queen, he told her, that he thought her\nsisters were the most proper persons to assist her in her labour;\nbut would not name them before he had asked her consent. The\nqueen, sensible of the deference the emperor so obligingly paid\nher, said to him, \"Sir, I was prepared to do as your majesty\nmight please to command. But since you have been so kind as to\nthink of my sisters, I thank you for the regard you have shewn\nthem for my sake; and therefore I shall not dissemble, that I had\nrather have them than strangers.\"\n\nThe emperor named the queen's two sisters to be her midwives; and\nfrom that time they went frequently to the palace, overjoyed at\nthe opportunity they should have of executing the detestable\nwickedness they had meditated against the queen.\n\nWhen the queen's time was up she was safely delivered of a young\nprince, as bright as the day; but neither his innocence nor\nbeauty could move the cruel hearts of the merciless sisters. They\nwrapped him up carelessly in his cloths, and put him into a\nbasket, which they abandoned to the stream of a small canal, that\nran under the queen's apartment, and declared that she was\ndelivered of a little dead dog, which they produced. This\ndisagreeable intelligence was announced to the emperor, who\nbecame so angry at the circumstance, that he was likely to have\noccasioned the queen's death, if his grand vizier had not\nrepresented to him, that he could not, without injustice, make\nher answerable for the caprices of nature.\n\nIn the mean time, the basket in which the little prince was\nexposed was carried by the stream beyond a wall, which bounded\nthe prospect of the queen's apartment, and from thence floated\nwith the current down the gardens. By chance the intendant of the\nemperor's gardens, one of the principal and most considerable\nofficers of the kingdom, was walking in the garden by the side of\nthis canal, and perceiving a basket floating, called to a\ngardener, who was not far off, to bring it to shore, that he\nmight see what it contained. The gardener, with a rake which he\nhad in his hand, drew the basket to the side of the canal, took\nit up, and gave it to him.\n\nThe intendant of the gardens was extremely surprised to see in\nthe basket a child, which, though he knew it could be but just\nborn, had very fine features. This officer had been married\nseveral years, but though he had always been desirous of having\nchildren, Heaven had never blessed him with any. This accident\ninterrupted his walk: he made the gardener follow him with the\nchild; and when he came to his own house, which was situated at\nthe entrance into the gardens of the palace, went into his wife's\napartment. \"Wife,\" said he, \"as we have no children of our own,\nGod has sent us one. I recommend him to you; provide him a nurse,\nand take as much care of him as if he were our own son; for, from\nthis moment, I acknowledge him as such.\" The intendant's wife\nreceived the child with great joy, and took particular pleasure\nin the care of him. The intendant himself would not inquire too\nnarrowly whence the child came. He saw plainly it came not far\noff the queen's apartment; but it was not his business to examine\ntoo closely into what had passed, nor to create disturbances in a\nplace where peace was so necessary.\n\nThe following year the queen consort was brought to bed of\nanother prince, on whom the unnatural sisters had no more\ncompassion than on his brother; but exposed him likewise in a\nbasket, and set him adrift in the canal, pretending this time\nthat the sultaness was delivered of a cat. It was happy also for\nthis child that the intendant of the gardens was walking by the\ncanal side, who had it carried to his wife, and charged her to\ntake as much care of it as of the former; which was as agreeable\nto her inclination as it was to that of the intendant.\n\nThe emperor of Persia was more enraged this time against the\nqueen than before, and she had felt the effects of his anger if\nthe grand vizier's remonstrances had not prevailed.\n\nThe third time the queen lay in she was delivered of a princess,\nwhich innocent babe underwent the same fate as the princes her\nbrothers; for the two sisters being determined not to desist from\ntheir detestable schemes, till they had seen the queen their\nyounger sister at least cast off, turned out, and humbled,\nexposed this infant also on the canal. But the princess, as well\nas the two princes her brothers, was preserved from death by the\ncompassion and charity of the intendant of the gardens.\n\nTo this inhumanity the two sisters added a lie and deceit as\nbefore. They produced a piece of wood, and affirmed it to be a\nfalse birth of which the queen had been delivered.\n\nKhoosroo Shaw could no longer contain himself, when he was\ninformed of the new extraordinary birth. \"What!\" said he; \"this\nwoman, unworthy of my bed, will fill my palace with monsters, if\nI let her live any longer! No, it shall not be; she is a monster\nherself, and I must rid the world of her.\" He pronounced sentence\nof death, and ordered the grand vizier to see it executed.\n\nThe grand vizier and the courtiers who were present cast\nthemselves at the emperor's feet, to beg of him to revoke the\nsentence. \"Your majesty, I hope, will give me leave,\" said the\ngrand vizier, \"to represent to you, that the laws which condemn\npersons to death were made to punish crimes; the three\nextraordinary labours of the queen are not crimes; for in what\ncan she be said to have contributed towards them? Many other\nwomen have had, and have the same every day, and are to be\npitied, but not punished. Your majesty may abstain from seeing\nher, but let her live. The affliction in which she will spend the\nrest of her life, after the loss of your favour, will be a\npunishment sufficiently distressing.\"\n\nThe emperor of Persia considered with himself, and reflecting\nthat it was unjust to condemn the queen to death for what had\nhappened, said, \"Let her live then; I will spare her life; but it\nshall be on this condition, that she shall desire to die more\nthan once every day. Let a wooden shed be built for her at the\ngate of the principal mosque, with iron bars to the windows, and\nlet her be put into it, in the coarsest habit; and every\nMussulmaun that shall go into the mosque to prayers shall spit in\nher face. If any one fail, I will have him exposed to the same\npunishment; and that I maybe punctually obeyed, I charge you,\nvizier, to appoint persons to see this done.\"\n\nThe emperor pronounced his sentence in such a tone that the grand\nvizier durst not further remonstrate; and it was executed, to the\ngreat satisfaction of the two envious sisters. A shed was built,\nand the queen, truly worthy of compassion, was put into it, and\nexposed ignominiously to the contempt of the people; which usage,\nas she did not deserve it, she bore with a patient resignation\nthat excited the admiration as well as compassion of those who\njudged of things better than the vulgar.\n\nThe two princes and the princess were, in the mean time, nursed\nand brought up by the intendant of the gardens and his wife with\nall the tenderness of a father and mother; and as they advanced\nin age, they all shewed marks of superior dignity, but the\nprincess in particular, which discovered itself every day by\ntheir docility and inclinations above trifles, different from\nthose of common children, and by a certain air which could only\nbelong to exalted birth. All this increased the affections of the\nintendant and his wife, who called the eldest prince Bahman, and\nthe second Perviz, both of them names of the most ancient\nemperors of Persia, and the princess, Perie-zadeh, which name\nalso had been borne by several queens and princesses of the\nkingdom.\n\nAs soon as the two princes were old enough, the intendant\nprovided proper masters to teach them to read and write; and the\nprincess their sister, who was often with them, shewing a great\ndesire to learn, the intendant, pleased with her quickness,\nemployed the same master to teach her also. Her emulation,\nvivacity, and piercing wit, made her in a little time as great a\nproficient as her brothers.\n\nFrom that time the brothers and sister had the same masters in\ngeography, poetry, history, and even the secret sciences; and\nmade so wonderful a progress, that their tutors were amazed, and\nfrankly owned that they could teach them no farther. At the hours\nof recreation, the princess learned to sing and play upon all\nsorts of instruments; and when the princes were learning to ride\nshe would not permit them to have that advantage over her, but\nwent through all the exercises with them, learning to ride also,\nto bend the bow, and dart the reed or javelin, and often-times\noutdid them in the race, and other contests of agility.\n\nThe intendant of the gardens was so overjoyed to find his adopted\nchildren so accomplished in all the perfections of body and mind,\nand that they so well requited the expense he had been at in\ntheir education, that he resolved to be at a still greater: for\nas he had till then been content only with his lodge at the\nentrance of the garden, and kept no country house, he purchased a\ncountry seat at a short distance from the city, surrounded by a\nlarge tract of arable land, meadows, and woods. As the house was\nnot sufficiently handsome nor convenient, he pulled it down, and\nspared no expense in building a mansion more magnificent. He went\nevery day to hasten, by his presence, the great number of workmen\nhe employed; and as soon as there was an apartment ready to\nreceive him, passed several days together there when his presence\nwas not necessary at court; and by the same exertions, the\ninterior was furnished in the richest manner, answerably to the\nmagnificence of the edifice. Afterwards he made gardens,\naccording to a plan drawn by himself. He took in a large extent\nof ground, which he walled round, and stocked with fallow deer,\nthat the princes and princess might divert themselves with\nhunting when they chose.\n\nWhen this country seat was finished and fit for habitation, the\nintendant of the gardens went and cast himself at the emperor's\nfeet, and after representing how long he had served, and the\ninfirmities of age which he found growing upon him, begged he\nwould permit him to resign his charge into his majesty's\ndisposal, and retire. The emperor gave him leave, with the more\npleasure because he was satisfied with his long services, both in\nhis father's reign and his own; and when he granted it, asked\nwhat he should do to recompense him? \"Sir,\" replied the intendant\nof the gardens, \"I have received so many obligations from your\nmajesty and the late emperor your father of happy memory, that I\ndesire no more than the honour of dying in your favour.\"\n\nHe took his leave of the emperor, and retired with the two\nprinces and the princess to the country retreat he had built. His\nwife had been dead some years, and he himself had not lived above\nsix months with them before he was surprised by so sudden a\ndeath, that he had not time to give them the least account of the\nmanner in which he had discovered them.\n\nThe princes Bahman and Perviz, and the princess Perie-zadeh, who\nknew no other father than the intendant of the emperor's gardens,\nregretted and bewailed him as such, and paid all the honours in\nhis funeral obsequies which love and filial gratitude required of\nthem. Satisfied with the plentiful fortune he had left them, they\nlived together in perfect union, free from the ambition of\ndistinguishing themselves at court, or aspiring to places of\nhonour and dignity, which they might easily have obtained.\n\nOne day when the two princes were hunting, and the princess had\nremained at home, a religious old woman came to the gate, and\ndesired leave to go in to say her prayers, it being then the\nhour. The servants asked the princess's permission, who ordered\nthem to shew her into the oratory, which the intendant of the\nemperor's gardens had taken care to fit up in his house, for want\nof a mosque in the neighbourhood. She bade them also, after the\ngood woman had finished her prayers, shew her the house and\ngardens, and then bring her to her.\n\nThe old woman went into the oratory, said her prayers, and when\nshe came out two of the princess's women invited her to see the\nhouse and gardens; which civility she accepted, followed them\nfrom one apartment to another, and observed, like a person who\nunderstood what belonged to furniture, the nice arrangement of\nevery thing. They conducted her also into the garden, the\ndisposition of which she found so well planned, that she admired\nit, observing that the person who had formed it must have been an\nexcellent master of his art. Afterwards she was brought before\nthe princess, who waited for her in the great hall, which in\nbeauty and richness exceeded all that she had admired in the\nother apartments.\n\nAs soon as the princess saw the devout woman, she said to her,\n\"My good mother, come near and sit down by me. I am overjoyed at\nthe happiness of having the opportunity of profiting for some\nmoments by the good example and conversation of such a person as\nyou, who have taken the right way by dedicating yourself to the\nservice of God. I wish every one were as wise.\"\n\nThe devout woman, instead of sitting on a sofa, would only sit\nupon the edge of one. The princess would not permit her to do so,\nbut rising from her seat,'and taking her by the hand, obliged her\nto come and sit by her. The good woman, sensible of the civility,\nsaid, \"Madam, I ought not to have so much respect shewn me; but\nsince you command, and are mistress of your own house, I will\nobey you.\" When she had seated herself, before they entered into\nany conversation, one of the princess's women brought a little\nlow stand of mother of pearl and ebony, with a china dish full of\ncakes upon it, and many others set round it full of fruits in\nseason, and wet and dry sweetmeats.\n\nThe princess took up one of the cakes, and presenting her with\nit, said, \"Eat, good mother, and make choice of what you like\nbest; you had need to eat after coming so far.\" \"Madam,\" replied\nthe good woman, \"I am not used to eat such delicacies; but will\nnot refuse what God has sent me by so liberal a hand as yours.\"\n\nWhile the devout woman was eating, the princess ate a little too,\nto bear her company, and asked her many questions upon the\nexercise of devotion which she practised, and how she lived: all\nwhich she answered with great modesty. Talking of several things,\nat last she asked her what she thought of the house, and how she\nliked it.\n\n\"Madam,\" answered the devout woman, \"I must certainly have very\nbad taste to disapprove any thing in it, since it is beautiful,\nregular, and magnificently furnished with exactness and judgment,\nand all its ornaments adjusted in the best manner. Its situation\nis an agreeable spot, and no garden can be more delightful; but\nyet if you will give me leave to speak my mind freely, I will\ntake the liberty to tell you, that this house would be\nincomparable if it had three things which are wanting to complete\nit.\" \"My good mother,\" replied the princess Perie-zadeh, \"what are\nthose? I conjure you, in God's name, to tell me what they are: I\nwill spare nothing to get them, if it be possible.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the devout woman, \"the first of these three\nthings is the speaking bird, so singular a creature, that it\ndraws round it all the singing birds of the neighbourhood, which\ncome to accompany his song. The second is the singing tree, the\nleaves of which are so many mouths, which form an harmonious\nconcert of different voices, and never cease. The third is the\nyellow water of a gold colour, a single drop of which being\npoured into a vessel properly prepared, it increases so as to\nfill it immediately, and rises up in the middle like a fountain,\nwhich continually plays, and yet the basin never overflows.\"\n\n\"Ah! my good mother,\" cried the princess, \"how much am I obliged\nto you for the knowledge of these curiosities! They are\nsurprising, and I never before heard there were such wonderful\nrarities in the world; but as I am persuaded that you know, I\nexpect that you should do me the favour to inform me where they\nare to be found.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the good woman, \"I should be unworthy the\nhospitality you have with so much goodness shewn me, if I should\nrefuse to satisfy your curiosity in that point; and am glad to\nhave the honour to tell you, that these curiosities are all to be\nmet with in the same spot on the confines of this kingdom,\ntowards India. The road to it lies before your house, and whoever\nyou send needs but follow it for twenty days, and on the\ntwentieth let him only ask the first person he meets where the\nspeaking bird, singing tree, and yellow water are, and he will be\ninformed.\" After saying this, she rose from her seat, took her\nleave, and went her way.\n\nThe princess Perie-zadeh's thoughts were so taken up with what\nthe devout woman had told her of the speaking bird, singing tree,\nand yellow water, that she never perceived her departure, till\nshe wanted to ask her some question for her better information;\nfor she thought that what she had told her was not a sufficient\nreason for exposing herself by undertaking a long journey,\npossibly to no purpose. However, she would not send after her,\nbut endeavoured to remember all she had told her; and when she\nthought she had recollected every word, took real pleasure in\nthinking of the satisfaction she should have if she could get\nthese wonderful curiosities into her possession; but the\ndifficulties she apprehended, and the fear of not succeeding,\nmade her very uneasy.\n\nShe was absorbed in these thoughts when her brothers returned\nfrom hunting; who, when they entered the great hall, instead of\nfinding her lively and gay, as she used to be be, were amazed to\nsee her so pensive, and hanging down her head as if something\ntroubled her.\n\n\"Sister,\" said prince Bahman, \"what is become of all your mirth\nand gaiety? Are you not well? or has some misfortune befallen\nyou? Has any body given you reason to be so melancholy? Tell us,\nthat we may know how to act, and give you some relief. If any one\nhas affronted you, we will resent his insolence.\"\n\nThe princess remained in the same posture some time without\nanswering; but at last lifted up her eyes to look at her\nbrothers, and then held them down again, telling them nothing\ndisturbed her.\n\n\"Sister,\" said prince Bahman, \"you conceal the truth from us;\nthere must be something of consequence. It is impossible we could\nobserve so sudden a change if nothing was the matter with you.\nYou would not have us satisfied with the evasive answer you have\ngiven: do not conceal any thing, unless you would have us suspect\nthat you renounce the strict union which has hitherto subsisted\nbetween us from our infancy.\"\n\nThe princess, who had not the smallest intention to offend her\nbrothers, would not suffer them to entertain such a thought, but\nsaid, \"When I told you nothing disturbed me, I meant nothing that\nwas of importance to you; but to me it is of some consequence;\nand since you press me to tell you by our strict union and\nfriendship, which are so dear to me, I will. You think, and I\nalways believed so too, that this house was so complete that\nnothing was wanting. But this day I have learned that it wants\nthree rarities, which would render it so perfect that no country\nseat in the world could be compared with it. These three things\nare, the speaking bird, the singing tree, and the yellow water.\nAfter she had informed them wherein consisted the excellency of\nthese rarities,\" \"A devout woman,\" added she, \"has made this\ndiscovery to me, told me the place where they are to be found,\nand the way thither. Perhaps you may imagine these things to be\ntrifles, and of little consequence to render our house complete,\nthat without these additions it will always be thought\nsufficiently elegant with what it already contains, and that we\ncan do without them. You may think as you please; but I cannot\nhelp telling you that I am persuaded they are absolutely\nnecessary, and I shall not be easy without them. Therefore,\nwhether you value them or not, I desire you to consider what\nperson you may think proper for me to send in search of the\ncuriosities I have mentioned.\"\n\n\"Sister,\" replied prince Bahman, \"nothing can concern you in\nwhich we have not an equal interest. It is enough that you have\nan earnest desire for the things you mention to oblige us to take\nthe same interest; but if you had not, we feel ourselves inclined\nof our own accord and for our own individual satisfaction. I am\npersuaded my brother is of the same opinion, and therefore we\nought to undertake this conquest; for the importance and\nsingularity of the undertaking deserve that name. I will take\nthat charge upon myself; only tell me the place, and the way to\nit, and I will defer my journey no longer than till to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Brother,\" said prince Perviz, \"it is not proper that you, who\nare the head and director of our family, should be absent. I\ndesire my sister would join with me to oblige you to abandon your\ndesign, and allow me to undertake it. I hope to acquit myself as\nwell as you, and it will be a more regular proceeding.\" \"I am\npersuaded of your good-will, brother,\" replied prince Bahman,\n\"and that you would succeed as well as myself in this journey;\nbut I have resolved, and will undertake it. You shall stay at\nhome with our sister, and I need not recommend her to you.\" He\nspent the remainder of the day in making preparations for his\njourney, and informing himself from the princess of the\ndirections which the devout woman had left her.\n\nThe next morning Bahman mounted his horse, and Perviz and the\nprincess embraced, and wished him a good journey. But in the\nmidst of their adieus, the princess recollected what she had not\nthought of before. \"Brother,\" said she, \"I had quite forgotten\nthe accidents which attend travellers. Who knows whether I shall\never see you again? Alight, I beseech you, and give up this\njourney. I would rather be deprived of the sight and possession\nof the speaking bird, singing tree, and yellow water, than run\nthe risk of never seeing you more.\"\n\n\"Sister,\" replied Bahman, smiling at the sudden fears of the\nprincess, \"my resolution is fixed, but were it not, I should\ndetermine upon it now, and you must allow me to execute it. The\naccidents you speak of befall only those who are unfortunate; but\nthere are more who are not so. However, as events are uncertain,\nand I may fail in this undertaking, all I can do is to leave you\nthis knife.\"\n\nBahman, pulling a knife from his vestband, and presenting it in\nthe sheath to the princess, said, \"Take this knife, sister, and\ngive yourself the trouble sometimes to pull it out of the sheath:\nwhile you see it clean as it is now, it will be a sign that I am\nalive; but if you find it stained with blood, then you may\nbelieve me dead, and indulge me with your prayers.\"\n\nThe princess could obtain nothing more of Bahman. He bade adieu\nto her and prince Perviz for the last time, and rode away. When\nhe got into the road he never turned to the right hand nor to the\nleft, but went directly forward towards India. The twentieth day\nhe perceived on the road side a hideous old man, who sat under a\ntree some small distance from a thatched house, which was his\nretreat from the weather.\n\nHis eye-brows were as white as snow, as was also the hair of his\nhead; his whiskers covered his mouth, and his beard and hair\nreached down to his feet. The nails of his hands and feet were\ngrown to an extensive length; a flat broad umbrella covered his\nhead. He had no clothes, but only a mat thrown round his body.\n\nThis old man was a dervish, for many years retired from the\nworld, to give himself up entirely to the service of God; so that\nat last he became what we have described.\n\nPrince Bahman, who had been all that morning very attentive to\nsee if he could meet with any body who could give him information\nof the place he was in search of, stopped when he came near the\ndervish, alighted, in conformity to the directions which the\ndevout woman had given the princess Perie-zadeh, and leading his\nhorse by the bridle, advanced towards him, and saluting him,\nsaid, \"God prolong your days, good father, and grant you the\naccomplishment of your desires.\"\n\nThe dervish returned the prince's salutation, but so\nunintelligibly that he could not understand one word he said:\nprince Bahman perceiving that this difficulty proceeded from the\ndervish's whiskers hanging over his mouth, and unwilling to go\nany farther without the instructions he wanted, pulled out a pair\nof scissors he had about him, and having tied his horse to a\nbranch of the tree, said, \"Good dervish, I want to have some talk\nwith you: but your whiskers prevent my understanding what you\nsay: and if you will consent, I will cut off some part of them\nand of your eye-brows, which disfigure you so much that you look\nmore like a bear than a man.\"\n\nThe dervish did not oppose the offer; and when the prince had cut\noff as much hair as he thought fit, he perceived that the dervish\nhad a good complexion, and that he did not seem so old as he\nreally was. \"Good dervish,\" said he, \"if I had a glass I would\nshew you how young you look: you are now a man, but before nobody\ncould tell what you were.\"\n\nThe kind behaviour of prince Bahman made the dervish smile, and\nreturn his compliment. \"Sir,\" said he, \"whoever you are, I am\nobliged by the good office you have performed, and am ready to\nshew my gratitude by doing any thing in my power for you. You\nmust have alighted here upon some account or other. Tell me what\nit is, and I will endeavour to serve you.\"\n\n\"Good dervish,\" replied prince Bahman, \"I am in search of the\nspeaking bird, the singing tree, and the yellow water; I know\nthese three rarities are not far from hence, but cannot tell\nexactly the place where they are to be found; if you know, I\nconjure you to shew me the way, that I may not lose my labour\nafter so long a journey.\"\n\nThe prince, while he spoke, observed that the dervish changed\ncountenance, held down his eyes, looked very serious, and instead\nof making any reply, remained silent; which obliged him to say to\nhim again, \"Good father, I fancy you heard me; tell me whether\nyou know what I ask you, that I may not lose my time, but inform\nmyself somewhere else.\"\n\nAt last the dervish broke silence. \"Sir,\" said he to prince\nBahman, \"I know the way you ask of me; but the regard which I\nconceived for you the first moment I saw you, and which is grown\nstronger by the service you have done me, kept me in suspense,\nwhether I should give you the satisfaction you desire.\" \"What\nmotive can hinder you?\" replied the prince; \"and what\ndifficulties do you find in so doing?\" \"I will tell you,\" replied\nthe dervish; \"the danger you are going to expose yourself to is\ngreater than you may suppose. A number of gentlemen of as much\nbravery and courage as you can possibly possess have passed this\nway, and asked me the same question. When I had used all my\nendeavours to persuade them to desist, they would not believe me;\nat last, I yielded, to their importunities; I was compelled to\nshew them the way, and I can assure you they have all perished,\nfor I have not seen one come back. Therefore, if you have any\nregard for your life, take my advice, go no farther, but return\nhome.\"\n\nPrince Bahman persisted in his resolution. \"I will not suppose,\"\nsaid he to the dervish, \"but that your advice is sincere. I am\nobliged to you for the friendship you express for me; but\nwhatever may be the danger, nothing shall make me change my\nintention: whoever attacks me, I am well armed, and can say I am\nas brave as any one.\" \"But they who will attack you are not to be\nseen,\" replied the dervish; \"how will you defend yourself against\ninvisible persons?\" \"It is no matter,\" answered the prince; \"all\nyou say shall not persuade me to do any thing contrary to my\nduty. Since you know the way, I conjure you once more to inform\nme.\"\n\nWhen the dervish found he could not prevail upon prince Bahman,\nand that he was obstinately bent to pursue his journey\nnotwithstanding his friendly remonstrance, he put his hand into a\nbag that lay by him and pulled out a bowl, which he presented to\nhim. \"Since I cannot prevail on you to attend to my advice,\" said\nhe, \"take this bowl; when you are on horseback throw it before\nyou, and follow it to the foot of a mountain, where it will stop.\nAs soon as the bowl stops, alight, leave your horse with the\nbridle over his neck, and he will stand in the same place till\nyou return. As you ascend you will see on your right and left a\ngreat number of large black stones, and will hear on all sides a\nconfusion of voices, which will utter a thousand injurious abuses\nto discourage you, and prevent your reaching the summit of the\nmountain. Be not afraid; but above all things, do not turn your\nhead to look behind you; for in that instant you will be changed\ninto such a black stone as those you see, which are all youths\nwho have failed in this enterprise. If you escape the danger of\nwhich I give you but a faint idea, and get to the top of the\nmountain, you will see a cage, and in that cage is the bird you\nseek; ask him which are the singing tree and the yellow water,\nand he will tell you. I have nothing more to say; this is what\nyou have to do, and the danger you have to avoid; but if you are\nprudent, you will take my advice, and not expose your life.\nConsider once more while you have time that the difficulty is\nalmost insuperable.\"\n\n\"I am obliged to you for your repeated advice,\" replied prince\nBahman, after he had received the bowl, \"but cannot follow it.\nHowever, I will endeavour to conform myself to that part of it\nwhich bids me not look behind me as I shall ascend the mountain,\nand I hope to come and see you again soon, and thank you when I\nhave obtained what I am seeking.\" After these words, to which the\ndervish made no other answer than that he should be overjoyed to\nsee him again, the prince mounted his horse, took his leave of\nthe dervish with a respectful salute, and threw the bowl before\nhim.\n\nThe bowl rolled away unceasingly with as much swiftness as when\nprince Bahman first hurled it from his hand, which obliged him to\nput his horse to the same pace to avoid losing sight of it, and\nwhen it had reached the foot of the mountain it stopped. The\nprince alighted from his horse, laid the bridle on his neck; and\nhaving first surveyed the mountain, and seen the black stones,\nbegan to ascend; but had not gone four steps, before he heard the\nvoices mentioned by the dervish, though he could see nobody. Some\nsaid, \"Where is that fool going? where is he going? what would he\nhave? do not let him pass.\" Others, \"Stop him, catch him, kill\nhim;\" and others with a voice like thunder, \"Thief! assassin!\nmurderer!\" while some in a gibing tone cried, \"No, no, do not\nhurt him; let the pretty fellow pass, the cage and bird are kept\nfor him.\"\n\nNotwithstanding all these troublesome voices, prince Bahman\nascended with courage and resolution for some time, but the\nvoices redoubled with so loud a din near him, both behind and\nbefore, that at last he was seized with dread, his legs trembled\nunder him, he staggered, and finding that his strength failed\nhim, he forgot the dervish's advice, turned about to run down the\nhill, and was that instant changed into a black stone; a\nmetamorphosis which had happened to many before him, who had\nattempted the ascent. His horse likewise underwent the same\nchange.\n\nFrom the time of prince Bahman's departure, the princess Perie-zadeh\nalways wore the knife and sheath in her girdle, and pulled it out\nseveral times in a day, to know whether her brother was alive. She had\nthe consolation to understand he was in perfect health, and to talk of\nhim frequently with prince Perviz, who sometimes prevented her by\nasking her what news.\n\nOn the fatal day that prince Bahman was transformed into a stone,\nas prince Perviz and the princess were talking together in the\nevening, as usual, the prince desired his sister to pull out the\nknife to know how their brother did. The princess readily\ncomplied, and seeing the blood run down the point was seized with\nso much horror that she threw it down. \"Ah! my dear brother,\"\ncried she, \"I have been the cause of your death, and shall never\nsee you more! Why did I tell you of the speaking bird, singing\ntree, and yellow water; or rather, of what importance was it to\nme to know whether the devout woman thought this house ugly or\nhandsome, or complete or not? I wish to Heaven she had never\naddressed herself to me? Deceitful hypocrite!\" added she, \"is\nthis the return you have made for the kind reception I gave you?\nWhy did you tell me of a bird, a tree, and a water, which,\nimaginary as I am persuaded they are, by my dear brother's death,\nyet disturb me by your enchantment?\"\n\nPrince Perviz was as much afflicted at the death of prince Bahman\nas the princess; but not to waste time in needless regret, as he\nknew that she still passionately desired possession of the\nspeaking bird, the singing tree, and the golden water, he\ninterrupted her, saying, \"Sister, our regret for our brother is\nvain and useless; our grief and lamentations cannot restore him\nto life; it is the will of God, we must submit to it, and adore\nthe decrees of the Almighty without searching into them. Why\nshould you now doubt of the truth of what the holy woman told\nyou? do you think she spoke to you of three things that were not\nin being? and that she invented them on purpose to deceive you,\nwho had given her no cause to do so, but received her with so\nmuch goodness and civility? Let us rather believe that our\nbrother's death is owing to some error on his part, or some\naccident which we cannot conceive. It ought not therefore to\nprevent us from pursuing our object. I offered to go this\njourney, and am now more resolved than ever; his example has no\neffect upon my resolution; to-morrow I will depart.\"\n\nThe princess did all she could to dissuade prince Perviz,\nconjuring him not to expose her to the danger of losing two\nbrothers; but he was obstinate, and all the remonstrances she\ncould urge had no effect upon him. Before he went, that she might\nknow what success he had, he left her a string of a hundred\npearls, telling her, that if they would not run when she should\ncount them upon the string, but remain fixed, that would be a\ncertain sign he had undergone the same fate as his brother; but\nat the same time told her he hoped it would never happen, but\nthat he should have the happiness to see her again to their\nmutual satisfaction.\n\nPrince Perviz, on the twentieth day after his departure, met the\nsame dervish in the same place as his brother Bahman had done\nbefore him. He went directly up to him, and after he had saluted,\nasked him, if he could tell him where to find the speaking bird,\nthe singing tree, and the golden water? The dervish urged the\nsame difficulties and remonstrances as he had done to prince\nBahman, telling him, that a young gentleman, who very much\nresembled him, was with him a short time before; that, overcome\nby his importunity and pressing instances, he had shewn him the\nway, given him a guide, and told him how he should act to\nsucceed; but that he had not seen him since, and doubted not but\nhe had shared the same fate as all other adventurers.\n\n\"Good dervish,\" answered prince Perviz, \"I know whom you speak\nof; he was my elder brother, and I am informed of the certainty\nof his death, but know not the cause.\" \"I can tell you,\" replied\nthe dervise; \"he was changed into a black stone, as all I speak\nof have been; and you must expect the same transformation, unless\nyou observe more exactly than he has done the advice I gave him,\nin case you persist in your resolution, which I once more entreat\nyou to renounce.\"\n\n\"Dervish,\" said prince Perviz, \"I cannot sufficiently express how\nmuch I am obliged for the concern you take in my life, who am a\nstranger to you, and have done nothing to deserve your kindness:\nbut I thoroughly considered this enterprise before I undertook\nit, and I cannot now relinquish it: therefore I beg of you to do\nme the same favour you have done my brother. Perhaps I may have\nbetter success in following your directions.\" \"Since I cannot\nprevail with you,\" said the dervish, \"to give up your obstinate\nresolution, if my age did not prevent me, and I could stand, I\nwould get up to reach you a bowl I have here, which will shew you\nthe way.\"\n\nWithout giving the dervish time to say more, the prince alighted\nfrom his horse and went to the dervish, who had taken a bowl out\nof his bag, in which he had a great many, and gave it him, with\nthe same directions he had given prince Bahman; and after warning\nhim not to be discouraged by the voices he should hear without\nseeing any body, however threatening they might be, but to\ncontinue his way up the hill till he saw the cage and bird, he\nlet him depart.\n\nPrince Perviz thanked the dervish, and when he had remounted, and\ntaken leave, threw the bowl before his horse, and spurring him at\nthe same time, followed it. When the bowl came to the bottom of\nthe hill it stopped, the prince alighted, and stood some time to\nrecollect the dervish's directions. He encouraged himself, and\nbegan to walk up with a resolution to reach the summit; but\nbefore he had gone above six steps, he heard a voice, which\nseemed to be near, as of a man behind him, say in an insulting\ntone, \"Stay, rash youth, that I may punish you for your\npresumption.\"\n\nUpon this affront the prince, forgetting the dervish's advice,\nclapped his hand upon his sword, drew it, and turned about to\nrevenge himself; but had scarcely time to see that nobody\nfollowed him before he and his horse were changed into black\nstones.\n\nIn the mean time the princess Perie-zadeh, several times a day\nafter her brother's departure, counted her chaplet. She did not\nomit it at night, but when she went to bed put it about her neck;\nand in the morning when she awoke counted over the pearls again\nto see if they would slide.\n\nThe day that prince Perviz was transformed into a stone, she was\ncounting over the pearls as she used to do, when all at once they\nbecame immoveably fixed, a certain token that the prince her\nbrother was dead. As she had determined what to do in case it\nshould so happen, she lost no time in outward demonstrations of\ngrief, which she concealed as much as possible; but having\ndisguised herself in man's apparel, armed and equipped, she\nmounted her horse the next morning, having told her servants she\nshould return in two or three days, and took the same road her\nbrothers had done.\n\nThe princess, who had been used to ride on horseback in hunting,\nsupported the fatigue of so long a journey better than most\nladies could have done; and as she made the same stages as her\nbrothers, she also met with the dervish on the twentieth day.\nWhen she came near him, she alighted off her horse, leading him\nby the bridle, went and sat down by the dervish, and after she\nhad saluted him, said, \"Good dervish, give me leave to rest\nmyself; and do me the favour to tell me if you have not heard\nthat there are somewhere in this neighbourhood a speaking bird, a\nsinging tree, and golden water.\"\n\n\"Princess,\" answered the dervish, \"for so I must call you, since\nby your voice I know you to be a woman disguised in man's\napparel, I thank you for your compliment, and receive the honour\nyou do me with great pleasure. I know the place well where these\nthings are to be found: but what makes you ask me this question?\"\n\n\"Good dervish,\" replied the princess, \"I have had such a\nflattering relation of them given me, that I have a great desire\nto possess them.\" \"Madam,\" replied the dervish, \"you have been\ntold the truth. These curiosities are more singular and\nsurprising than they have been represented to you: but you have\nnot been made acquainted with the difficulties which must be\nsurmounted in order to obtain them. If you had been fully\ninformed of these, you would not have undertaken so troublesome\nand dangerous an enterprise. Take my advice, go no farther,\nreturn, and do not urge me to contribute towards your ruin.\"\n\n\"Good father,\" said the princess, \"I have travelled a great way,\nand should be sorry to return without executing my design. You\ntalk of difficulties, and danger of life; but you do not tell me\nwhat those difficulties are, and wherein the danger consists.\nThis is what I desire to know, that I may consider and judge\nwhether I can trust my courage and strength to brave them.\"\n\nThe dervish repeated to the princess what he had said to the\nprinces Bahman and Perviz, exaggerating the difficulties of\nclimbing up to the top of the mountain, where she was to make\nherself mistress of the bird, which would inform her of the\nsinging tree and golden water. He magnified the noise and din of\nthe terrible threatening voices which she would hear on all sides\nof her, without seeing any body, and the great number of black\nstones, alone sufficient to strike terror. He entreated her to\nreflect that those stones were so many brave gentlemen, so\nmetamorphosed for having omitted to observe the principal\ncondition of success in the perilous undertaking, which was not\nto look behind them before they had got possession of the cage.\n\nWhen the dervish had done, the princess replied, \"By what I\ncomprehend from your discourse, the difficulties of succeeding in\nthis affair are, first, the getting up to the cage without being\nfrightened at the terrible din of voices I shall hear; and\nsecondly, not to look behind me: for this last, I hope I shall be\nmistress enough of myself to observe it. As to the first, I own\nthat those voices, such as you represent them to be, are capable\nof striking terror into the most undaunted; but as in all\nenterprises and dangers every one may use stratagem, I desire to\nknow of you if I may use any in one of so great importance.\" \"And\nwhat stratagem is it you would employ?\" said the dervish. \"To\nstop my ears with cotton,\" answered the princess, \"that the\nvoices, however loud and terrible, may make the less impression\nupon my imagination, and my mind remain free from that\ndisturbance which might cause me to lose the use of my reason.\"\n\n\"Princess,\" replied the dervish, \"of all the persons who have\naddressed themselves to me for information, I do not know that\never one made use of the contrivance you propose. All I know is,\nthat they all perished. If you persist in your design, you may\nmake the experiment. You will be fortunate if it succeeds; but I\nwould advise you not to expose yourself to the danger.\"\n\n\"My good father,\" replied the princess, \"nothing can hinder my\npersisting in my design. I am sure my precaution will succeed,\nand am resolved to try the experiment. Nothing remains for me but\nto know which way I must go; I conjure you not to deny me the\nfavour of that information.\" The dervish exhorted her again, for\nthe last time, to consider well what she was going to do; but\nfinding her resolute, he took out a bowl, and presenting it to\nher, said, \"Take this bowl; mount your horse again, and when you\nhave thrown it before you, follow it through all its windings,\ntill it stops at the bottom of the mountain, there alight, and\nascend the hill. Go; you know the rest.\"\n\nAfter the princess had thanked the dervish, and taken her leave\nof him, she mounted her horse, threw the bowl before her, and\nfollowed it till it stopped at the foot of the mountain.\n\nThe princess alighted, stopped her ears with cotton; and after\nshe had well examined the path leading to the summit, began with\na moderate pace, and walked up with intrepidity. She heard the\nvoices, and perceived the great service the cotton was to her.\nThe higher she went, the louder and more numerous the voices\nseemed; but they were not capable of making any impression upon\nher. She heard a great many affronting speeches and raillery very\ndisagreeable to a woman, which she only laughed at. \"I mind not,\"\nsaid she to herself, \"all that can be said, were it worse; I only\nlaugh at them, and shall pursue my way.\" At last she got so high,\nthat she could perceive the cage and the bird, which endeavoured,\nwith the voices, to frighten her, crying in a thundering tone,\nnotwithstanding the smallness of its size, \"Retire, fool, and\napproach no nearer.\"\n\nThe princess, encouraged by this object, redoubled her speed, and\nby effort gained the summit of the mountain, where the ground was\nlevel; then running directly to the cage, and clapping her hand\nupon it, cried, \"Bird, I have you, and you shall not escape me.\"\n\nWhile Perie-zadeh was pulling the cotton out of her ears, the\nbird said to her, \"Heroic princess, be not angry with me for\njoining with those who exerted themselves to preserve my liberty.\nThough in a cage, I was content with my condition; but since I am\ndestined to be a slave, I would rather be yours than any other\nperson's, since you have obtained me so courageously. From this\ninstant, I swear inviolable fidelity, and an entire submission to\nall your commands. I know who you are; you do not: but the time\nwill come when I shall do you essential service, which I hope you\nwill think yourself obliged to me for. As a proof of my\nsincerity, tell me what you desire, and I am ready to obey you.\"\n\nThe princess's joy was the more inexpressible, because the\nconquest she had made had cost her the lives of two beloved\nbrothers, and given her more trouble and danger than she could\nhave imagined, notwithstanding what the dervish had represented\nto her. \"Bird,\" said she, \"it was my intention to have told you\nthat I wish for many things which are of importance; but I am\noverjoyed that you have shewn your good-will and prevented me. I\nhave been told that there is not far off a golden water, the\nproperty of which is very wonderful; before all things, I ask you\nto tell me where it is.\" The bird shewed her the place, which was\njust by, and she went and filled a little silver flagon which she\nhad brought with her. She returned to the bird and said, \"Bird,\nthis is not enough; I want also the singing tree; tell me where\nit is.\" \"Turn about,\" said the bird, \"and you will see behind you\na wood, where you will find this tree.\" The princess went into\nthe wood, and by the harmonious concert she heard soon knew the\ntree among many others, but it was very large and high. She came\nback to the bird, and said to it, \"Bird, I have found the singing\ntree, but I can neither pull it up by the roots, nor carry it.\"\nThe bird replied, \"It is not necessary that you should take it up\nby the roots; it will be sufficient to break off a branch, and\ncarry it to plant in your garden; it will take root as soon as it\nis put into the earth, and in a little time will grow to as fine\na tree as that you have seen.\"\n\nWhen the princess had obtained possession of the three things\nwhich the devout woman had told her of, and for which she had\nconceived so great a desire, she said again to the bird, \"Bird,\nwhat you have yet done for me is not sufficient. You have been\nthe cause of the death of my two brothers, who must be among the\nblack stones which I saw as I ascended the mountain. I wish to\ntake them home with me.\"\n\nThe bird seemed reluctant to satisfy the princess in this point,\nand indeed made some difficulty to comply. \"Bird,\" said the\nprincess, \"remember you told me that you were my slave. You are\nso; and your life is in my disposal.\" \"That I cannot deny,\"\nanswered the bird; \"but although what you now ask is more\ndifficult than all the rest, yet I will do it for you. Cast your\neyes around,\" added he, \"and look if you can see a little\npitcher.\" \"I see it already,\" said the princess. \"Take it then,\"\nsaid he, \"and as you descend the mountain, sprinkle a little of\nthe water that is in it upon every black stone.\"\n\nThe princess took up the pitcher accordingly, carried with her\nthe cage and bird, the flagon of golden water, and the branch of\nthe singing tree, and as she descended the mountain, threw a\nlittle of the water on every black stone, which was changed\nimmediately into a man; and as she did not miss one stone, all\nthe horses, both of the princes her brothers, and of the other\ngentlemen, resumed their natural forms. She instantly recognized\nBahman and Perviz, as they did her, and ran to embrace her. She\nreturned their embraces, and expressed her amazement. \"What do\nyou here, my dear brothers?\" said she; they told her they had\nbeen asleep. \"Yes,\" replied she, \"and if it had not been for me,\nperhaps you might have slept till the day of judgment. Do not you\nremember that you came to fetch the speaking bird, the singing\ntree, and the yellow water? and did not you see, as you came\nalong, the place covered with black stones? Look and see if there\nbe any now. The gentlemen and their horses who surround us, and\nyou yourselves, were these black stones. If you desire to know\nhow this wonder was performed,\" continued she, shewing the\npitcher, which she set down at the foot of the mountain, having\nno further use for it, \"it was done by virtue of the water which\nwas in this pitcher, with which I sprinkled every stone. After I\nhad made the speaking bird (which you see in this cage) my slave,\nby his directions I found out the singing tree, a branch of which\nI have now in my hand; and the yellow water, which this flagon is\nfilled with; but being still unwilling to return without taking\nyou with me, I constrained the bird, by the power I had over him,\nto afford me the means. He told me where to find this pitcher,\nand the use I was to make of it.\"\n\nThe princes Bahman and Perviz learnt by this relation the\nobligation they had to the princess their sister; as did all the\nother gentlemen, who were collected round, and expressed to the\nprincess, that, far from envying her happiness in the conquest\nshe had made, and which they all had aspired to, they thought\nthey could not any otherwise acknowledge the favour she had done\nthem, or better express their gratitude to her for restoring them\nto life again, than by declaring themselves all her slaves, and\nthat they were ready to obey her in whatever she should command.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" replied the princess, \"if you had given any\nattention to my words you might have observed that I had no other\nintention in what I have done than to recover my brothers;\ntherefore, if you have received any benefit, you owe me no\nobligation, and I have no further share in your compliment than\nyour politeness towards me, for which I return you my thanks. In\nother respects, I regard each of you individually as free as you\nwere before your misfortunes, and I rejoice with you at the\nhappiness which has accrued to you by my means. Let us however\nstay no longer in a place where we have nothing to detain us; but\nmount our horses, and return to our respective homes.\"\n\nThe princess took her horse, which stood in the place where she\nhad left him.--Before she mounted, prince Bahman desired her to\ngive him the cage to carry. \"Brother,\" replied the princess, \"the\nbird is my slave, and I will carry him myself; if you will take\nthe pains to carry the branch of the singing tree, there it is;\nonly hold the cage while I get on horseback.\" When she had\nmounted her horse; and prince Bahman had given her the cage, she\nturned about and said to prince Perviz, \"I leave the flagon of\ngolden water to your care, if it will not be too much trouble for\nyou to carry it.\" Prince Perviz took charge of it with pleasure.\n\nWhen Bahman, Perviz, and all the gentlemen had mounted their\nhorses, the princess waited for some of them to lead the way. The\ntwo princes paid that compliment to the gentlemen, and they again\nto the princess, who, finding that none of them would accept of\nthe honour, but that it was reserved for her, addressed herself\nto them and said, \"Gentlemen, I expect that some of you should\nlead the way;\" to which one who was nearest to her, in the name\nof the rest, replied, \"Madam, were we ignorant of the respect due\nto your sex, yet after what you have done for us there is no\ndeference we would not willingly pay you, notwithstanding your\nmodesty; we entreat you no longer to deprive us of the happiness\nof following you.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" said the princess, \"I do not deserve the honour you\ndo me, and accept it only because you desire it.\" At the same\ntime she led the way, and the two princes and the gentlemen\nfollowed.\n\nThis illustrious company called upon the dervish as they passed,\nto thank him for his reception and wholesome advice, which they\nhad all found to be sincere. But he was dead: whether of old age,\nor because he was no longer necessary to shew the way to the\nobtaining the three rarities which the princess Perie-zadeh had\nsecured, did not appear. They pursued their route, but lessened\nin their numbers every day. The gentlemen who, as we said before,\nhad come from different countries, after severally repeating\ntheir obligations to the princess and her brothers, took leave of\nthem one after another as they approached the road they had come.\n\nAs soon as the princess reached home, she placed the cage in the\ngarden; and the bird no sooner began to warble than he was\nsurrounded by nightingales, chaffinches, larks, linnets,\ngoldfinches, and every species of birds of the country. And the\nbranch of the singing tree was no sooner set in the midst of the\nparterre, a little distance from the house, than it took root,\nand in a short time became a large tree, the leaves of which gave\nas harmonious a concert as those of the tree from which it was\ngathered. A large basin of beautiful marble was placed in the\ngarden; and when it was finished, the princess poured into it all\nthe yellow water from the flagon, which instantly increased and\nswelled so much that it soon reached up to the edges of the\nbasin, and afterwards formed in the middle a fountain twenty feet\nhigh, which fell again into the basin perpetually without running\nover.\n\nThe report of these wonders was presently spread abroad, and as\nthe gates of the house and those of the gardens were shut to\nnobody, a great number of people came to admire them.\n\nSome days after, when the princes Bahman and Perviz had recovered\nfrom the fatigue of their journey, they resumed their former way\nof living; and as their usual diversion was hunting, they mounted\ntheir horses and went for the first time since their return, not\nto their own demesne, but two or three leagues from their house.\nAs they pursued their sport, the emperor of Persia came in\npursuit of game upon the same ground. When they perceived by the\nnumber of horsemen in different places that he would soon be up,\nthey resolved to discontinue their chase, and retire to avoid\nencountering him; but in the very road they took they chanced to\nmeet him in so narrow a way that they could not retreat without\nbeing seen. In their surprise they had only time to alight, and\nprostrate themselves before the emperor, without lifting up their\nheads to look at him. The emperor, who saw they were as well\nmounted and dressed as if they had belonged to his court, had the\ncuriosity to see their faces. He stopped, and commanded them to\nrise. The princes rose up, and stood before him with an easy and\ngraceful air, accompanied with respectful modest countenances.\nThe emperor took some time to view them before he spoke: and\nafter he had admired their good air and mien, asked them who they\nwere, and where they lived.\n\n\"Sir,\" said prince Bahman, \"we are the sons of the late intendant\nof your majesty's gardens: and live in a house which he built a\nlittle before he died, till we should be fit to serve your\nmajesty, and ask of you some employ when opportunity offered.\"\n\n\"By what I perceive,\" replied the emperor, \"you love hunting.\"\n\"Sir,\" replied prince Bahman, \"it is our common exercise, and\nwhat none of your majesty's subjects who intend to bear arms in\nyour armies ought, according to the ancient custom of the\nkingdom, to neglect.\" The emperor, charmed with so prudent an\nanswer, said, \"Since it is so, I should be glad to see your\nexpertness in the chase; choose your own game.\"\n\nThe princes mounted their horses again, and followed the emperor;\nbut had not gone far before they saw many wild beasts together.\nPrince Bahman chose a lion, and prince Perviz a bear; and pursued\nthem with so much intrepidity, that the emperor was surprised.\nThey came up with their game nearly at the same time, and darted\ntheir javelins with so much skill and address, that they pierced,\nthe one the lion, and the other the bear, so effectually, that\nthe emperor saw them fall one after the other. Immediately\nafterwards prince Bahman pursued another bear, and prince Perviz\nanother lion, and killed them in a short time, and would have\nbeaten out for fresh game, but the emperor would not let them,\nand sent to them to come to him. When they approached he said,\n\"If I would have given you leave, you would soon have destroyed\nall my game: but it is not that which I would preserve, but your\npersons; for I am so well assured your bravery may one time or\nother be serviceable to me, that from this moment your lives will\nbe always dear to me.\"\n\nThe emperor, in short, conceived so great a kindness for the two\nprinces, that he invited them immediately to make him a visit: to\nwhich prince Bahman replied, \"Your majesty does us an honour we\ndo not deserve; and we beg you will excuse us.\"\n\nThe emperor, who could not comprehend what reason the princes\ncould have to refuse this token of his favour, pressed them to\ntell him why they excused themselves. \"Sir,\" said prince Bahman,\n\"we have a sister younger than ourselves, with whom we live in\nsuch perfect union, that we undertake nothing before we consult\nher, nor she any thing without asking our advice.\" \"I commend\nyour brotherly affection,\" answered the emperor. \"Consult your\nsister, meet me here tomorrow, and give me an answer.\"\n\nThe princes went home, but neglected to speak of their adventure\nin meeting the emperor, and hunting with him, and also of the\nhonour he had done them, by asking them to go home with him; yet\ndid not the next morning fail to meet him at the place appointed.\n\"Well,\" said the emperor, \"have you spoken to your sister? And\nhas she consented to the pleasure I expect of seeing you?\" The\ntwo princes looked at each other and blushed. \"Sir,\" said prince\nBahman, \"we beg your majesty to excuse us: for both my brother\nand I forgot.\" \"Then remember to-day,\" replied the emperor, \"and\nbe sure to bring me an answer to-morrow.\"\n\nThe princes were guilty of the same fault a second time, and the\nemperor was so good-natured as to forgive their negligence; but\nto prevent their forgetfulness the third time, he pulled three\nlittle golden balls out of a purse, and put them into prince\nBahman's bosom. \"These balls,\" said he, smiling, \"will prevent\nyour forgetting a third time what I wish you to do for my sake;\nsince the noise they will make by falling on the floor, when you\nundress, will remind you, if you do not recollect it before.\" The\nevent happened just as the emperor foresaw; and without these\nballs the princes had not thought of speaking to their sister of\nthis affair. For as prince Bahman unloosed his girdle to go to\nbed the balls dropped on the floor, upon which he ran into prince\nPerviz's chamber, when both went into the princess Perie-zadeh's\napartment, and after they had asked her pardon for coming at so\nunseasonable a time, they told her all the circumstances of their\nmeeting the emperor.\n\nThe princess was somewhat surprised at this intelligence. \"Your\nmeeting with the emperor,\" said she, \"is happy and honourable,\nand may in the end be highly advantageous to you, but it is very\ndisagreeable and distrustful to me. It was on my account, I know,\nyou refused the emperor, and I am infinitely obliged to you for\ndoing so. I know by this your affection is equal to my own, since\nyou would rather be guilty of incivility towards the emperor than\nviolate the brotherly union we have sworn to each other. You\njudge right, for if you had once gone you would insensibly have\nbeen engaged to leave me, to devote yourselves to him. But do you\nthink it an easy matter absolutely to refuse the emperor what he\nseems so earnestly to desire? Monarchs will be obeyed in their\ndesires, and it may be dangerous to oppose them; therefore, if to\nfollow my inclination I should dissuade you from shewing the\ncomplaisance he expects from you, it may expose you to his\nresentment, and may render myself and you miserable. These are my\nsentiments: but before we conclude upon any thing let us consult\nthe speaking bird, and hear what he says; he is penetrating, and\nhas promised his assistance in all difficulties.\"\n\nThe princess sent for the cage, and after she had related the\ncircumstances to the bird in the presence of her brothers, asked\nhim what they should do in this perplexity? The bird answered,\n\"The princes your brothers must conform to the emperor's\npleasure, and in their turn invite him to come and see your\nhouse.\"\n\n\"But, bird,\" replied the princess, \"my brothers and I love one\nanother, and our friendship is yet undisturbed. Will not this\nstep be injurious to that friendship?\" \"Not at all,\" replied the\nbird; \"it will tend rather to cement it.\" \"Then,\" answered the\nprincess, \"the emperor will see me.\" The bird told her it was\nnecessary he should, and that everything would go better\nafterwards.\n\nNext morning the princes met the emperor hunting, who, at as\ngreat a distance as he could make himself be heard, asked them if\nthey had remembered to speak to their sister? Prince Bahman\napproached, and answered, \"Sir, your majesty may dispose of us as\nyou please; we are ready to obey you; for we have not only\nobtained our sister's consent with great ease, but she took it\namiss that we should pay her that deference in a matter wherein\nour duty to your majesty was concerned. But if we have offended,\nwe hope you will pardon us.\" \"Do not be uneasy on that account,\"\nreplied the emperor; \"so far from taking amiss what you have\ndone, I highly approve of your conduct, and hope you will have\nthe same deference and attachment to my person, if I have ever so\nlittle share in your friendship.\" The princes, confounded at the\nemperor's goodness, returned no other answer but a low obeisance,\nto shew the great respect with which they received it.\n\nThe emperor, contrary to his usual custom, did not hunt long that\nday. Presuming that the princes possessed wit equal to their\ncourage and bravery, he longed with impatience to converse with\nthem more at liberty. He made them ride on each side of him, an\nhonour which, without speaking of the principal courtiers who\naccompanied him, was envied by the grand vizier, who was much\nmortified to see them preferred before him.\n\nWhen the emperor entered his capital, the eyes of the people, who\nstood in crowds in the streets, were fixed upon the two princes\nBahman and Perviz; and they were earnest to know who they might\nbe, whether foreigners or natives.\n\nAll, however, agreed in wishing that the emperor had been blessed\nwith two such handsome princes, and said, \"He might have had\nchildren as old, if the queen, who had suffered the punishment of\nher misfortune, had been more fortunate in her lyings-in.\"\n\nThe first thing that the emperor did when he arrived at his\npalace was to conduct the princes into the principal apartments;\nwho praised without affectation, like persons conversant in such\nmatters, the beauty and symmetry of the rooms, and the richness\nof the furniture and ornaments. Afterwards a magnificent repast\nwas served up, and the emperor made them sit with him, which they\nat first refused; but finding it was his pleasure, they obeyed.\n\nThe emperor, who had himself much learning, particularly in\nhistory, foresaw that the princes, out of modesty and respect,\nwould not take the liberty of beginning any conversation.\nTherefore, to give them an opportunity, he furnished them with\nsubjects all dinner-time. But whatever subject he introduced,\nthey shewed so much wit, judgment, and discernment, that he was\nstruck with admiration. \"Were these my own children,\" said he to\nhimself, \"and I had improved their talents by suitable education,\nthey could not have been more accomplished or better informed.\"\nIn short, he took such great pleasure in their conversation, that\nafter having sat longer than usual he led them into his closet,\nwhere he pursued his conversation with them, and at last said, \"I\nnever supposed that there were among my subjects in the country\nyouths so well brought up, so lively, so capable; and I never was\nbetter pleased with any conversation than yours: but it is time\nnow we should relax our minds with some diversion; and as nothing\nis more capable of enlivening the mind than music, you shall hear\na vocal and instrumental concert which may not be disagreeable to\nyou.\"\n\nThe emperor had no sooner spoken for them than the musicians, who\nhad orders to attend, entered, and answered fully the\nexpectations the princes had been led to entertain of their\nabilities. After the concerts, an excellent farce was acted, and\nthe entertainment was concluded by dancers of both sexes.\n\nThe two princes seeing night approach, prostrated themselves at\nthe emperor's feet; and having first thanked him for the favours\nand honours he had heaped upon them, asked his permission to\nretire; which was granted by the emperor, who, in dismissing\nthem, said, \"I give you leave to go; but remember I brought you\nto the palace myself only to shew you the way; you will be always\nwelcome, and the oftener you come the greater pleasure you will\ndo me.\"\n\nBefore they went out of the emperor's presence, prince Bahman\nsaid, \"Sir, may we presume to request that your majesty will do\nus and our sister the honour to pass by our house, and rest and\nrefresh yourself after your fatigue, the first time you take the\ndiversion of hunting in that neighbourhood? It is not worthy your\npresence; but monarchs sometimes have vouchsafed to take shelter\nin a cottage.\" \"My children,\" replied the emperor; \"your house\ncannot be otherwise than beautiful, and worthy of its owners. I\nwill call and see it with pleasure, which will be the greater for\nhaving for my hosts you and your sister, who is already dear to\nme from the account you give me of the rare qualities with which\nshe is endowed; and this satisfaction I will defer no longer than\nto-morrow. Early in the morning I will be at the place where I\nshall never forget that I first saw you. Meet me, and you shall\nbe my guides.\"\n\nWhen the princes Bahman and Perviz had returned home, they gave\nthe princess an account of the distinguished reception the\nemperor had given them; and told her that they had invited him to\ndo them the honour, as he passed by, to call at their house; and\nthat he had appointed the next day.\n\n\"If it be so,\" replied the princess, \"we must think of preparing\na repast fit for his majesty; and for that purpose I think it\nwould be proper we should consult the speaking bird, he will tell\nus perhaps what meats the emperor likes best.\" The princes\napproved of her plan, and after they had retired she consulted\nthe bird alone. \"Bird,\" said she, \"the emperor will do us the\nhonour to-morrow to come and see our house, and we are to\nentertain him; tell us what we shall do to acquit ourselves to\nhis satisfaction.\"\n\n\"Good mistress,\" replied the bird, \"you have excellent cooks, let\nthem do the best they can; but above all things, let them prepare\na dish of cucumbers stuffed full of pearls, which must be set\nbefore the emperor in the first course before all the other\ndishes.\"\n\n\"Cucumbers stuffed full of pearls!\" cried princess Perie-zadeh,\nwith amazement; \"surely, bird, you do not know what you say; it\nis an unheard-of dish. The emperor may admire it as a piece of\nmagnificence, but he will sit down to eat, and not to admire\npearls; besides, all the pearls I possess are not enough for such\na dish.\"\n\n\"Mistress,\" said the bird, \"do what I say, and be not uneasy\nabout what may happen. Nothing but good will follow. As for the\npearls, go early to-morrow morning to the foot of the first tree\non your right hand in the park, dig under it, and you will find\nmore than you want.\"\n\nThat night the princess ordered a gardener to be ready to attend\nher, and the next morning early led him to the tree which the\nbird had told her of, and bade him dig at its foot. When the\ngardener came to a certain depth, he found some resistance to the\nspade, and presently discovered a gold box about a foot square,\nwhich he shewed the princess. \"This,\" said she, \"is what I\nbrought you for; take care not to injure it with the spade.\"\n\nWhen the gardener took up the box, he gave it into the princess's\nhands, who, as it was only fastened with neat little hasps, soon\nopened it, and found it full of pearls of a moderate size, but\nequal, and fit for the use that was to be made of them. Very well\nsatisfied with having found this treasure, after she had shut the\nbox again she put it under her arm, and went back to the house,\nwhile the gardener threw the earth into the hole at the foot of\nthe tree as it had been before.\n\nThe princes Bahman and Perviz, who, as they were dressing\nthemselves in their own apartments, saw the princess their sister\nin the garden earlier than usual, as soon as they could get out\nwent to her, and met her as she was returning, with a gold box\nunder her arm, which much surprised them. \"Sister,\" said Bahman,\n\"you carried nothing with you when we saw you before with the\ngardener, and now we see you have a golden box: is this some\ntreasure found by the gardener, and did he come and tell you of\nit?\"\n\n\"No, brother,\" answered the princess; \"I took the gardener to the\nplace where this casket was concealed, and shewed him where to\ndig: but you will be more amazed when you see what it contains.\"\n\nThe princess opened the box, and when the princes saw that it was\nfull of pearls, which, though small, were of great value; they\nasked her how she came to the knowledge of this treasure?\n\"Brothers,\" said she, \"if nothing more pressing calls you\nelsewhere, come with me, and I will tell you.\" \"What more\npressing business,\" said prince Perviz, \"can we have than to be\ninformed of what concerns us so much? We have nothing to do to\nprevent our attending you.\" The princess, as they returned to the\nhouse, gave them an account of her having consulted the bird, as\nthey had agreed she should, and the answer he had given her; the\nobjection she had raised to preparing a dish of cucumbers stuffed\nfull of pearls, and how he had told her where to find this box.\nThe princes and princess formed many conjectures to penetrate\ninto what the bird could mean by ordering them to prepare such a\ndish; and after much conversation, though they could not by any\nmeans guess at his reason, they nevertheless agreed to follow his\nadvice exactly.\n\nAs soon as the princess entered the house, she called for the\nhead cook; and after she had given him directions about the\nentertainment for the emperor, said to him, \"Besides all this,\nyou must dress an extraordinary dish for the emperor's own\neating, which nobody else must have any thing to do with besides\nyourself. This dish must be of cucumbers stuffed with these\npearls;\" and at the same time she opened him the box, and shewed\nhim the pearls.\n\nThe chief cook, who had never heard of such a dish, started back,\nand shewed his thoughts by his looks; which the princess\npenetrating, said, \"I see you take me to be mad to order such a\ndish, which you never heard of, and which one may say with\ncertainty was never made. I know this as well as you; but I am\nnot mad, and give you these orders with the most perfect\nrecollection. You must invent and do the best you can, and bring\nme back what pearls are left.\" The cook could make no reply, but\ntook the box and retired: and afterwards the princess gave\ndirections to all the domestics to have every thing in order,\nboth in the house and gardens, to receive the emperor.\n\nNext day the two princes went to the place appointed; and as soon\nas the emperor of Persia arrived the chase began, which lasted\ntill the heat of the sun obliged him to leave off. While prince\nBahman stayed to conduit the emperor to their house, prince\nPerviz rode before to shew the way, and when he came in sight of\nthe house, spurred his horse, to inform the princess Perie-zadeh\nthat the emperor was approaching; but she had been told by some\nservants whom she had placed to give notice, and the prince found\nher waiting ready to receive him.\n\nWhen the emperor had entered the court-yard, and alighted at the\nportico, the princess came and threw herself at his feet, and the\ntwo princes informed him she was their sister, and besought him\nto accept her respects.\n\nThe emperor stooped to raise her, and after he had gazed some\ntime on her beauty, struck with her fine person and dignified\nair, he said, \"The brothers are worthy of the sister, and she\nworthy of them; since, if I may judge of her understanding by her\nperson, I am not amazed that the brothers would do nothing\nwithout their sister's consent; but,\" added he, \"I hope to be\nbetter acquainted with you, my daughter, after I have seen the\nhouse.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the princess, \"it is only a plain country residence,\nfit for such people as we are, who live retired from the great\nworld. It is not to be compared with houses in great cities, much\nless with the magnificent palaces of emperors.\" \"I cannot\nperfectly agree with you in opinion,\" said the emperor very\nobligingly, \"for its first appearance makes me suspect you;\nhowever, I will not pass my judgment upon it till I have seen it\nall; therefore be pleased to conduct me through the apartments.\"\n\nThe princess led the emperor through all the rooms except the\nhall; and, after he had considered them very attentively and\nadmired their variety, \"My daughter,\" said he to the princess,\n\"do you call this a country house? The finest and largest cities\nwould soon be deserted, if all country houses were like yours. I\nam no longer surprised that you take so much delight in it, and\ndespise the town. Now let me see the garden, which I doubt not is\nanswerable to the house.\"\n\nThe princess opened a door which led into the garden; and the\nfirst object which presented itself to the emperor's view was the\ngolden fountain. Surprised at so rare an object, he asked from\nwhence that wonderful water, which gave so much pleasure to\nbehold, had been procured; where was its source; and by what art\nit was made to play so high, that he thought nothing in the world\nwas to be compared to it? He said he would presently take a\nnearer view of it.\n\nThe princess then led him to the spot where the harmonious tree\nwas planted; and there the emperor heard a concert, different\nfrom all he had ever heard before; and stopping to see where the\nmusicians were, he could discern nobody far or near; but still\ndistinctly heard the music, which ravished his senses. \"My\ndaughter,\" said he to the princess, \"where are the musicians whom\nI hear? Are they under ground, or invisible in the air? Such\nexcellent performers will hazard nothing by being seen; on the\ncontrary, they would please the more.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the princess smiling, \"they are not musicians,\nbut the leaves of the trees your majesty sees before you, which\nform this concert; and if you will give yourself the trouble to\ngo a little nearer, you will be convinced, and the voices will be\nthe more distinct.\"\n\nThe emperor went nearer, and was so charmed with the sweet\nharmony, that he would never have been tired with hearing it, but\nthat his desire to have a nearer view of the fountain of yellow\nwater forced him away. \"Daughter,\" said he, \"tell me, I pray you,\nwhether this wonderful tree was found in your garden by chance,\nor was a present made to you, or have you procured it from some\nforeign country? It must certainly have come from a great\ndistance, otherwise, curious as I am after natural rarities, I\nshould have heard of it. What name do you call it by?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the princess, \"this tree has no other name than\nthat of the singing tree, and is not a native of this country. It\nwould at present take up too much time to tell your majesty by\nwhat adventures it came here; its history is connected with the\nyellow water, and the speaking bird, which came to me at the same\ntime, and which your majesty may see after you have taken a\nnearer view of the golden water. But if it be agreeable to your\nmajesty, after you have rested yourself, and recovered the\nfatigue of hunting, which must be the greater because of the\nsun's intense heat, I will do myself the honour of relating it to\nyou.\"\n\n\"My daughter,\" replied the emperor, \"my fatigue is so well\nrecompensed by the wonderful things you have shewn me, that I do\nnot feel it the least. I think only of the trouble I give you.\nLet us finish by seeing the yellow water. I am impatient to see\nand admire the speaking bird.\"\n\nWhen the emperor came to the yellow water, his eyes were fixed so\nsteadfastly upon the fountain, that he could not take them off.\nAt last, addressing himself to the princess, he said, \"As you\ntell me, daughter, that this water has no spring or\ncommunication, I conclude that it is foreign, as well as the\nsinging tree.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the princess, \"it is as your majesty conjectures;\nand to let you know that this water has no communication with any\nspring, I must inform you that the basin is one entire stone, so\nthat the water cannot come in at the sides or underneath. But\nwhat your majesty will think most wonderful is, that all this\nwater proceeded but from one small flagon, emptied into this\nbasin, which increased to the quantity you see, by a property\npeculiar to itself, and formed this fountain.\" \"Well,\" said the\nemperor, going from the fountain, \"this is enough for one time. I\npromise myself the pleasure to come and visit it often; but now\nlet us go and see the speaking bird.\"\n\nAs he went towards the hall, the emperor perceived a prodigious\nnumber of singing birds in the trees around, filling the air with\ntheir songs and warblings, and asked, why there were so many\nthere, and none on the other trees in the garden? \"The reason,\nsir,\" answered the princess, \"is, because they come from all\nparts to accompany the song of the speaking bird, which your\nmajesty may see in a cage in one of the windows of the hall we\nare approaching; and if you attend, you will perceive that his\nnotes are sweeter than those of any of the other birds, even the\nnightingale.\"\n\nThe emperor went into the hall; and as the bird continued\nsinging, the princess raised her voice, and said, \"My slave, here\nis the emperor, pay your compliments to him.\" The bird left off\nsinging that instant, when all the other birds ceased also, and\nit said, \"The emperor is welcome; God prosper him, and prolong\nhis life.\" As the entertainment was served on the sofa near the\nwindow where the bird was placed, the sultan replied, as he was\ntaking his seat, \"Bird, I thank you, and am overjoyed to find in\nyou the sultan and king of birds.\"\n\nAs soon as the emperor saw the dish of cucumbers set before him,\nthinking it was stuffed in the best manner, he reached out his\nhand and took one; but when he cut it, was in extreme surprise to\nfind it stuffed with pearls. \"What novelty is this?\" said he \"and\nwith what design were these cucumbers stuffed thus with pearls,\nsince pearls are not to be eaten?\" He looked at the two princes\nand princess to ask them the meaning: when the bird interrupting\nhim, said, \"Can your majesty be in such great astonishment at\ncucumbers stuffed with pearls, which you see with your own eyes,\nand yet so easily believe that the queen your wife was delivered\nof a dog, a cat, and a piece of wood?\" \"I believed these things,\"\nreplied the emperor, \"because the midwives assured me of the\nfacts.\" \"Those midwives, sir,\" replied the bird, \"were the\nqueen's two sisters, who, envious of her happiness in being\npreferred by your majesty before them, to satisfy their envy and\nrevenge, have abused your majesty's credulity. If you interrogate\nthem, they will confess their crime. The two brothers and the\nsister whom you see before you are your own children, whom they\nexposed, and who were taken in by the intendant of your gardens,\nwho provided nurses for them, and took care of their education.\"\n\nThis speech of the bird's presently cleared up the emperor's\nunderstanding. \"Bird,\" cried he, \"I believe the truth which you\ndiscover to me. The inclination which drew me to them told me\nplainly they must be my own blood. Come then, my sons, come, my\ndaughter, let me embrace you, and give you the first marks of a\nfather's love and tenderness.\" The emperor then rose, and after\nhaving embraced the two princes and the princess, and mingled his\ntears with theirs, said, \"It is not enough, my children; you must\nembrace each other, not as the children of the intendant of my\ngardens, to whom I have been so much obliged for preserving your\nlives, but as my own children, of the royal blood of the monarchs\nof Persia, whose glory, I am persuaded, you will maintain.\"\n\nAfter the two princes and princess had embraced mutually with new\nsatisfaction, the emperor sat down again with them, and finished\nhis meal in haste; and when he had done, said, \"My children, you\nsee in me your father; to-morrow I will bring the queen your\nmother, therefore prepare to receive her.\"\n\nThe emperor afterwards mounted his horse, and returned with\nexpedition to his capital. The first thing he did, as soon as he\nhad alighted and entered his palace, was to command the grand\nvizier to seize the queen's two sisters. They were taken from\ntheir houses separately, convicted, and condemned to be\nquartered; which sentence was put in execution within an hour.\n\nIn the mean time the emperor Khoosroo Shaw, followed by all the\nlords of his court who were then present, went on foot to the\ndoor of the great mosque; and after he had taken the queen out of\nthe strict confinement she had languished under for so many\nyears, embracing her in the miserable condition to which she was\nthen reduced, said to her with tears in his eyes, \"I come to\nentreat your pardon for the injustice I have done you, and to\nmake you the reparation I ought; which I have begun, by punishing\nthe unnatural wretches who put the abominable cheat upon me; and\nI hope you will look upon it as complete, when I present to you\ntwo accomplished princes, and a lovely princess, our children.\nCome and resume your former rank, with all the honours which are\nyour due.\" All this was done and said before great crowds of\npeople, who flocked from all parts at the first news of what was\npassing, and immediately spread the joyful intelligence through\nthe city.\n\nNext morning early the emperor and queen, whose mournful\nhumiliating dress was changed for magnificent robes, went with\nall their court to the house built by the intendant of the\ngardens, where the emperor presented the princes Bahman and\nPerviz, and the princess Perie-zadeh, to their enraptured mother.\n\"These, much injured wife,\" said he, \"are the two princes your\nsons, and this princess your daughter; embrace them with the same\ntenderness I have done, since they are worthy both of me and\nyou.\" The tears flowed plentifully down their cheeks at these\ntender embraces, especially the queen's, from the comfort and joy\nof having two such princes for her sons, and such a princess for\nher daughter, on whose account she had so long endured the\nseverest afflictions.\n\nThe two princes and the princess had prepared a magnificent\nrepast for the emperor and queen, and their court. As soon as\nthat was over, the emperor led the queen into the garden, and\nshewed her the harmonious tree and the beautiful effect of the\nyellow fountain. She had seen the bird in his cage, and the\nemperor had spared no panegyric in his praise during the repast.\n\nWhen there was nothing to detain the emperor any longer, he took\nhorse, and with the princes Bahman and Perviz on his right hand,\nand the queen consort and the princess at his left, preceded and\nfollowed by all the officers of his court, according to their\nrank, returned to his capital. Crowds of people came out to meet\nthem, and with acclamations of joy ushered them into the city,\nwhere all eyes were fixed not only upon the queen, the two\nprinces, and the princess, but also upon the bird, which the\nprincess carried before her in his cage, admiring his sweet\nnotes, which had drawn all the other birds about him, which\nfollowed him, flying from tree to tree in the country, and from\none house-top to another in the city. The princes Bahman and\nPerviz, and the princess Perie-zadeh, where at length brought to\nthe palace with this pomp, and nothing was to be seen or heard\nall that night but illuminations and rejoicings both in the\npalace and in the utmost parts of the city, which lasted many\ndays, and were continued throughout the empire of Persia, as\nintelligence of the joyful event reached the several provinces.\n\n\n\n\n           STORY OF THE SULTAN OF YEMEN AND HIS THREE\n                             SONS.\n\n\n\nThere was in the land of Yemen (Arabia Felix) a sultan, under\nwhom were three tributary princes. He had four children, three\nsons and a daughter. He possessed greater treasures than could be\nestimated, as well as innumerable camels, horses, and flocks of\nsheep; and was held in awe by all contemporary sovereigns.\n\nAfter a long and prosperous reign, age brought with it infirmity,\nand he at length became incapable of appearing in his hall of\naudience; upon which he commanded his sons to his presence, and\nsaid to them, \"My wish is to divide among you, before my death,\nall my possessions, that you may be satisfied, and live in\nunanimity and brotherly affection with each other, and in\nobedience to my dying commands.\" They exclaimed, \"To hear is to\nobey.\"\n\nThe sultan then said, \"My will is, that the eldest be sovereign\nin my room; that the second possess my treasures; and the third\nevery description of animals. Let no, one encroach upon another,\nbut all assist each other.\" He then caused them to sign an\nagreement to abide by his bequests, and shortly afterwards was\nreceived into the mercy of the Almighty; upon which his sons\nprepared what was suitable to his dignity for his funeral. They\nwashed the corpse, enshrouded it, prayed over it, and having\ncommitted it to the earth, returned to their palaces; where the\nviziers, officers of state, and inhabitants of the metropolis,\nhigh and low, rich and poor, attended to console with them on the\nloss of their father. The news of the death of the sultan was\nsoon spread abroad into all the provinces, and deputations from\nevery city came to condole with the princes.\n\nAfter these ceremonies, the eldest prince demanded that he should\nbe inaugurated sultan in the room of the deceased monarch,\nagreeably to his will; but this was not possible, as each of the\nother brothers was ambitious of being sovereign. Contention and\ndisputes now arose between them for the government, till at\nlength the elder brother, wishing to avoid civil war, said, \"Let\nus go and submit to the arbitration of one of the tributary\nsultans, and to let him whom he adjudges the kingdom peaceably\nenjoy it.\" To this they assented, as did also the viziers; and\nthey departed, unattended, towards the capital of one of the\ntributary sultans.\n\nWhen the princes had proceeded about half way on their journey,\nthey reached a verdant spot, abounding in herbage and flowers,\nwith a clear rivulet running through it, the convenience of which\nmade them halt to refresh themselves. They sat down and were\neating, when one of the brothers casting his eyes on the grass,\nsaid, \"A camel has lately passed this way loaded, half with\nsweetmeats and half with grain.\" \"True,\" cried another, \"and he\nwas blind of one eye.\" \"Yes,\" exclaimed the third, \"and he had\nlost his tail.\" They had scarcely concluded their remarks, when\nthe owner of the camel came up to them (for he had heard what\nthey had said, and was convinced, as they had described the beast\nand his load, that they must have stopped him), crying out, that\nthey had stolen his camel. \"We have not seen him,\" answered the\nprinces, \"nor touched him.\" \"By Allah!\" replied he, \"none but you\ncan have taken him; and if you will not deliver him up, I will\ncomplain of you to the sultan.\" They rejoined, \"It is well; let\nus go to the sultan.\"\n\nWhen all four had reached the palace, information was given of\nthe arrival of the princes, and they were admitted to an\naudience, the owner of the camel following, who bawled out,\n\"These men, my lord, by their own confession, have stolen my\nproperty, for they described him and the load he carried.\"\n\nThe man then related what each of the princes, had said; upon\nwhich the sultan demanded if it was true. They answered, \"My\nlord, we have not seen the camel; but we chanced, as we were\nsitting on the grass taking some refreshment, to observe that\npart of the pasture had been grazed; upon which we supposed that\nthe camel must have been blind of an eye, as the grass was only\neaten on one side. We then observed the dung of a camel in one\nheap on the ground, which made us agree that its tail must have\nbeen cut off, as it is the custom for camels to shake their\ntails, and scatter it abroad. On the grass where the camel had\nlain down, we saw on one side flies collected in great numbers,\nbut none on the other: this made us conclude that one of the\npanniers must have contained sweets, and the other only grain.\"\nUpon hearing the above, the sultan said to the complainant,\n\"Friend, go and look for thy camel, for these observations do not\nprove the theft on the accused, but only the strength of their\nunderstandings and penetration.\"\n\nThe sultan now ordered apartments for the princes, and directed\nthat they should be entertained in a manner befitting their rank;\nafter which he left them to their repose. In the evening, when\nthe usual meal was brought in, the elder prince having taken up a\ncake of bread, said, \"This bread, I am sure, was made by a sick\nwoman.\" The second, on tasting some kid, exclaimed, \"This kid was\nsuckled by a bitch:\" and the third cried out, \"Certainly this\nsultan must be illegitimate.\" At this instant the sultan, who had\nbeen listening, entered hastily, and exclaimed, \"Wherefore utter\nye these affronting speeches?\" \"Inquire,\" replied the princes,\n\"into what you have heard, and you will find all true.\"\n\nThe sultan now retired to his haram, and on inquiry, found that\nthe woman who had kneaded the bread was sick. He then sent for\nthe shepherd, who owned that the dam of the kid having died, he\nhad suckled it upon a bitch. Next, in a violent passion, he\nproceeded to the apartments of the sultana mother, and\nbrandishing his cimeter--threatened her with death, unless she\nconfessed whether he was son to the late sultan or not.\n\nThe sultana was alarmed, and said, \"To preserve my life, I must\nspeak truth. Know then that thou art the son of a cook. Thy\nfather had no male offspring, at which he was uneasy: on the same\nday myself and the wife of the cook lay in, I of a daughter and\nshe of a son. I was fearful of the coolness of the sultan, and\nimposed upon him the son of the cook for his own: that son art\nthou, who now enjoyest an empire.\"\n\nThe spurious sultan left the sultana in astonishment at the\npenetration of the brothers, whom he summoned to his presence,\nand inquired of them on what grounds they had founded their just\nsuspicions respecting the bread, the kid, and himself. \"My\nlord,\" replied the elder prince, \"when I broke the cake, the\nflour fell out in lumps; and hence I guessed that she who made it\nhad not strength to knead it sufficiently, and must have been\nunwell.\" \"It is as thou hast said,\" replied the sultan. \"The fat\nof the kid,\" continued the second brother, \"was all next the\nbone, and the flesh of every other animal but the dog has it next\nthe skin. Hence my surmise that it must have been suckled by a\nbitch.\" \"Thou wert right,\" answered the sultan; \"but now for\nmyself.\"\n\n\"My reason for supposing thee illegitimate,\" said the youngest\nprince, \"was, because thou didst not associate with us, who are\nof the same rank with thyself. Every man has properties which he\ninherits from his father, his grandfather, or his mother. From\nhis father, generosity, or avarice; from his grandfather, valour\nor cowardice; from his mother, bashfulness or impudence.\" \"Thou\nhast spoken justly,\" replied the sultan; \"but why came ye to ask\njudgment of me, since ye are so much better able to decide\ndifficult questions than myself? Return home, and agree among\nyourselves.\" The princes did so; and obeyed the will of their\nfather.\n\n\n\n\n              STORY OF THE THREE SHARPERS AND THE\n                            SULTAN.\n\n\n\nThree very ingenious sharpers who associated together, being much\ndistressed, agreed, in hopes of obtaining immediate relief, that\nthey would go to the sultan, and pretend each to superior ability\nin some occupation. Accordingly they proceeded to the metropolis,\nbut found admission to the presence difficult; the sultan being\nat a garden palace surrounded by guards, who would not let them\napproach. Upon this they consulted, and agreed to feign a\nquarrel, in hopes that their clamour would draw the notice of the\nsultan. It did so: he commanded them to be brought before him,\ninquired who they were, and the cause of their dispute. \"We were\ndisputing,\" said they, \"concerning the superiority of our\nprofessions; for each of us possesses complete skill in his own.\"\n\"What are your professions?\" replied the sultan. \"I am,\" said\none, \"O sovereign, a lapidary of wonderful skill.\" \"I fear thou\nart an astonishing rascal,\" exclaimed the sultan.\n\n\"I am,\" said the second sharper, \"a genealogist of horses.\" \"And\nI,\" continued the third, \"a genealogist of mankind, knowing every\none's true descent; an art much more wonderful than that of\neither of my companions, for no one possesses it but myself, nor\never did before me.\" The sultan was astonished, but gave little\ncredit to their pretensions: yet he said to himself, \"If these\nmen speak truth, they are worthy of encouragement. I will keep\nthem near me till I have occasion to try them; when, if they\nprove their abilities, I will promote them; but if not, I will\nput them to death.\" He then allotted them an apartment, with an\nallowance of three cakes of bread and a mess of pottage daily;\nbut placed spies over them, fearing lest they might escape.\n\nNot long after this, a present of rarities was brought to the\nsultan, among which were two precious stones; one of them\nremarkably clear in its water, and the other with a flaw. The\nsultan now bethought himself of the lapidary, and sent for him to\nhis presence, when he gave him the clear jewel to examine, and\ndemanded what he thought it was worth.\n\nThe sharper took the stone, and with much gravity turned it\nbackwards and forwards in his hands, examining it with minute\nattention on every part; after which he said, \"My lord, this\njewel has a flaw in the very centre of it.\" When the sultan heard\nthis, he was enraged against the sharper, and gave orders to\nstrike off his head; saying, \"This stone is free from blemish,\nand yet thou pretendest it hath a flaw.\" The executioner now\nadvanced, laid hold of the sharper, bound him, and was going to\nstrike, when the vizier entered, and seeing the sultan enraged,\nand the sharper under the cimeter, inquired the cause. Being\ninformed, he advanced towards the sultan, and said, \"My lord, act\nnot thus, but first break the stone: should a flaw appear in it,\nthe words of this man are true; but if it be found free from\nblemish, put him to death.\" The sultan replied, \"Thy advice is\njust:\" and broke it in two with his mace. In the middle he found\na flaw, at which he was astonished, and exclaimed to the sharper,\n\"By what means couldst thou discover the blemish?\" He replied,\n\"By the acuteness of my sight.\" The sultan then released him, and\nsaid, \"Take him back to his companions, allow him a mess of\npottage to himself, and two cakes of bread.\"\n\nSome time after this a tribute came from one of the provinces,\npart of which consisted of a beautiful black colt, in colour\nresembling the hue of the darkest night. The sultan was delighted\nwith the animal, and spent whole days in admiring him. At length\nhe bethought himself of the sharper who had pretended to be a\ngenealogist of horses, and commanded him to his presence. When he\nappeared, the sultan said, \"Art thou a judge of horses?\" He\nreplied, \"Yes, my lord,\" upon which the sultan exclaimed, \"It is\nwell! but I swear by him who appointed me guardian of his\nsubjects, and said to the universe, Be! and it was, that should I\nfind untruth in thy declaration, I will strike off thy head.\" The\nman replied, \"To hear is to submit.\" After this they brought out\nthe colt, that he might examine him.\n\nThe sharper desired the groom to mount the colt and pace him\nbefore him, which he did backwards and forwards, the fiery animal\nall the while plunging and rearing. At length the genealogist\nsaid, \"It is enough:\" and turning to the sultan exclaimed, \"My\nlord, this colt is singularly beautiful, of true blood by his\nsire, his paces exquisite and proportions just; but in him there\nis one blemish; could that be done away, he would be all\nperfection; nor would there be upon the face of the earth his\nequal among all the various breeds of horses.\" \"What can that\nblemish be?\" said the sultan. \"His sire,\" rejoined the\ngenealogist, \"was of true blood, but his dam of another species\nof animal; and, if commanded, I will inform you.\" \"Speak,\" said\nthe sultan. \"The dam of this beautiful colt,\" continued the\ngenealogist, \"was a buffalo.\"\n\nWhen the sultan heard this he flew into a rage, and commanded an\nexecutioner to strike off the head of the sharper; exclaiming,\n\"Thou accursed dog! how could a buffalo bring forth a colt?\" \"My\nlord,\" replied the sharper, \"the executioner is in attendance;\nbut send for the person who presented the colt, and inquire of\nhim the truth. If my words prove just, my skill will be\nascertained; but if what I have said be false, then let my head\npay the forfeit for my tongue.\" Upon this the sultan sent for the\nmaster of the colt to attend his presence.\n\nWhen the master of the colt appeared before him, the sultan\ninquired whether it was purchased of another person, or had been\nbred by himself? To which the man replied, \"My lord, I will\nrelate nothing but the truth. The production of this colt is\nsurprising. His sire belonged to me, and was of the true breed of\nsea-horses: he was always kept in an enclosure by himself, as I\nwas fearful of his being injured; but it happened one day in the\nspring, that the groom took him for air into the country, and\npicqueted him in the plain. By chance a cow-buffalo coming near\nthe spot, the stallion became outrageous, broke his heel-ropes,\njoined the buffalo, which after the usual period of gestation,\nproduced this colt, to our great astonishment.\"\n\nThe sultan was surprised at this relation. He commanded the\ngenealogist to be sent for, and upon his arrival said, \"Thy words\nhave proved true, and thy wonderful skill in the breed of horses\nis ascertained; but by what mark couldst thou know that the dam\nof this colt was a buffalo?\" The man replied, \"My lord, the mark\nis visible in the colt itself. It is not unknown to any person of\nobservation, that the hoof of a horse is nearly round, but the\nhoof of a buffalo thick and longish, like this colt's: hence I\njudged that the dam must certainly have been a buffalo.\" The\nsultan now dismissed him graciously, and commanded that he should\nbe allowed daily a mess of pottage, and two cakes of bread.\n\nNot long after this the sultan bethought himself of the third\nsharper, who pretended that he was the genealogist of man, and\nsent for him to the presence. On his appearance he said, \"Thou\ncanst trace the descent of man?\" \"Yes, my lord,\" replied the\ngenealogist. Upon this the sultan commanded an eunuch to take him\ninto his haram, that he might examine the descent of his\nfavourite mistress. Upon his introduction, he looked at the lady\non this side and on that, through her veil, till he was\nsatisfied, when he came out; and the sultan exclaimed, \"Well,\nwhat hast thou discovered in my mistress?\" He replied, \"My lord,\nshe is all perfect in elegance, beauty, grace, stature, bloom,\nmodesty, accomplishments, and knowledge, so that every thing\ndesirable centres in herself; but still there is one point that\ndisgraces her, from which if she was free, it is not possible she\ncould be excelled in anything among the whole of the fair sex.\"\nWhen the sultan had heard this, he rose up angrily, and drawing\nhis cimeter, ran towards the genealogist, intending to strike off\nhis head.\n\nJust as he was going to strike, some of the attendants said, \"My\nlord, put not the man to death before thou art convinced of his\nfalsehood.\" Upon which the sultan exclaimed, \"What fault appeared\nto thee in my mistress?\" \"O sultan,\" replied the man, \"she is, as\nto herself, all perfect; but her mother was a rope-dancer.\" Upon\nthis the sultan immediately sent for the father of the lady, and\nsaid, \"Inform me truly who was the mother of thy daughter, or I\nwill put thee to death.\" \"Mighty prince,\" replied the father,\n\"there is no safety for man but in the truth. Her mother was a\nrope-dancer, whom I took when very young from a company of\nstrolling mummers, and educated. She grew up most beautiful and\naccomplished: I married her, and she produced me the girl whom\nthou hast chosen.\"\n\nWhen the sultan heard this, his rage cooled, but he was filled with\nastonishment; and said to the genealogist, \"Inform me what could shew\nthee that my mistress was the daughter of a rope-dancer?\" \"My lord,\"\nreplied the man, \"this cast of people have always their eyes very\nblack, and their eyebrows bushy; such are hers: and from them I\nguessed her descent.\" The sultan was now convinced of his skill,\ndismissed him graciously, and commanded that he should be allowed a\nmess of pottage and three cakes of bread daily, which was done\naccordingly.\n\nSome time after this the sultan reflected on the three sharpers,\nand said to himself, \"These men have proved their skill in\nwhatever I have tried them. The lapidary was singularly excellent\nin his art, the horse genealogist in his, and the last has proved\nhis upon my mistress. I have an inclination to know my own\ndescent beyond a doubt.\" He then ordered the genealogist into his\npresence, and said, \"Dost thou think thou canst prove my\ndescent?\" \"Yes, my lord,\" replied the man, \"but on condition that\nyou spare my life after I shall have informed you; for the\nproverb says, 'When the sultan is present, beware of his anger,\nas there is no delay when he commands to strike.'\" \"There shall\nbe safety for thee,\" exclaimed the sultan, \"in my promise, an\nobligation that can never be forfeited.\"\n\n\"O sultan,\" continued the genealogist, \"when I shall inform thee\nof thy parentage and descent, let not there be any present who\nmay hear me.\" \"Wherefore?\" replied the sultan. \"My lord,\"\nanswered the sharper, \"you know the attributes of the Deity\nshould be veiled in mystery.\" The sultan now commanded all his\nattendants to retire, and when they were alone, the genealogist\nadvanced and said, \"Mighty prince, thou art illegitimate, and the\nson of an adulteress.\"\n\nAs soon as the sultan heard this, his colour changed, he turned\npale, and fainted away. When he was recovered, he remained some\ntime in deep contemplation, after which he exclaimed, \"By him who\nconstituted me the guardian of his people, I swear that if thy\nassertion be found true I will abdicate my kingdom, and resign it\nto thee, for royalty cannot longer become me; but should thy\nwords prove void of foundation, I will put thee to instant\ndeath.\" \"To hear is to assent,\" replied the sharper.\n\nThe sultan now arose, entered the haram, and bursting into his\nmother's apartment with his cimeter drawn, exclaimed, \"By him who\ndivided the heavens from the earth, shouldst thou not answer\nfaithfully to what I shall inquire, I will cut thee to pieces\nwith this cimeter.\" The queen, trembling with alarm, said, \"What\ndost thou ask of me?\" \"Inform me,\" replied the sultan, \"of whom\nam I the son?\" \"Since truth only can save me,\" cried the\nprincess, \"know that thou art the offspring of a cook. My husband\nhad no children either male or female, on which account he became\nsad, and lost his health and appetite. In a court of the haram we\nhad several sorts of birds, and one day the sultan fancying he\nshould relish one of them, ordered the cook to kill and dress it.\nI happened then to be in the bath alone.\n\n\"As I was in the bath,\" continued the sultana, \"I saw the cook\nendeavouring to catch the birds. At that instant it occurred to\nmy mind from the instigation of Satan, that if I bore not a son,\nafter the death of the sultan my influence would be lost. I\ntempted the man, and thou art the produce of my crime. The signs\nof my pregnancy soon appeared; and when the sultan was informed\nof them, he recovered his health, and rejoiced exceedingly, and\nconferred favours and presents on his ministers and courtiers\ndaily, till the time of my delivery. On that day he chanced to be\nupon a hunting excursion at a country palace; but when\nintelligence was brought him of the birth of a son, he instantly\nreturned to me, and issued orders for the city to be decorated,\nwhich was done for forty days together, out of respect to the\nsultan. Such was my crime, and such was thy birth.\"\n\nThe sultan now returned to the adventurer, and commanded him to\npull off his clothes, which he did; when the sultan, disrobing\nhimself, habited him in the royal vestments, after which he said,\n\"Inform me whence thou judgest that I was a bastard?\"\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the adventurer, \"when each of us shewed our\nskill in what was demanded, you ordered him only an allowance of\na mess of pottage and three cakes of bread. Hence I judged you to\nbe the offspring of a cook, for it is the custom of princes to\nreward the deserving with wealth and honours, but you only\ngratified us with victuals from your kitchen.\" The sultan\nreplied, \"Thou hast spoken truly.\" He then made him put on the\nrest of the royal robes and ornaments, and seated him upon the\nthrone; after which he disguised himself in the habit of a\ndervish, and wandered from his abdicated dominions. When the\nlucky adventurer found himself in possession of the throne, he\nsent for his companions; and finding they did not recognize him\nin his royal habiliments, dismissed them with liberal presents,\nbut commanded them to quit his territories with the utmost\nexpedition, lest they should discover him. After this, with a\nsatisfied mind, he fulfilled the duties of his new station with a\nliberality and dignity that made the inhabitants of the\nmetropolis and all the provinces bless him, and pray for the\nprolongation of his reign.\n\n\n\n\n             The Adventures of the Abdicated Sultan.\n\n\n\nThe abdicated prince, disguised as a dervish, did not cease\ntravelling in a solitary mood till he came to the city of Cairo,\nwhich he perceived to be in repose and security, and well\nregulated. Here he amused himself with walking through several\nstreets, till he had reached the royal palace, and was admiring\nits magnificent architecture and extent, and the crowds passing\nin and out, when the sultan with his train appeared in sight\nreturning from a hunting excursion, upon which he retired to one\nside of the road. The sultan observing his dignified demeanour,\ncommanded one of his attendants to invite him to the palace, and\nentertain him till he should inquire after him.\n\nWhen the sultan had reposed himself from the fatigue of his\nexercise, he sent for the supposed dervish to his presence, and\nsaid, \"From what kingdom art thou arrived?\" He answered, \"I am,\nmy lord, a wandering dervish.\" \"Well,\" replied the sultan, \"but\ninform me on what account thou art come here.\" On which he said,\n\"My lord, this cannot be done but in privacy.\" \"Let it be so,\"\nrejoined the sultan; and rising up, led him into a retired\napartment of the palace. The supposed dervish then related what\nhad befallen him, the cause of his having abdicated his kingdom,\nand taken upon himself the character of a religious. The sultan\nwas astonished at his self-denial, and exclaimed, \"Blessed be his\nholy name, who exalteth and humbleth whom he will by his almighty\npower; but my history is more surprising than thine. I will\nrelate it to thee, and conceal nothing.\"\n\n\n\n\n               History of Mahummud, Sultan of Cairo.\n\n\n\nAt my first outset in the world I was an indigent man, and\npossessed none of the conveniences of life, till at length I\nbecame possessed of ten pieces of silver, which I resolved to\nexpend in amusing myself. With this intention, I one day walked\ninto the principal market, intending first to purchase somewhat\ndelicate to feast upon. While I was looking about me, a man\npassed by, with a great crowd following and laughing at him, for\nhe led in an iron chain a monstrous baboon, which he cried for\nsale at the price of ten pieces of silver. Something\ninstinctively impelled me to purchase the creature, so I paid him\nthe money, and took my bargain to my lodging; but on my arrival,\nwas at a loss how to procure a meal for myself or the baboon.\nWhile I was considering what I should do, the baboon having made\nseveral springs, became suddenly transformed into a handsome\nyoung man, beautiful as the moon at the fourteenth night of its\nappearance, and addressed me, saying, \"Shekh Mahummud, thou hast\npurchased me for ten pieces of silver, being all thou hadst, and\nart now thinking how thou canst procure food for me and thyself.\"\n\"That is true,\" replied I; \"but in the name of Allah, from whence\ndost thou come?\" \"Ask no questions,\" replied my companion, \"but\ntake this piece of gold, and purchase us somewhat to eat and\ndrink.\" I took the gold, did as he had desired, and we spent the\nevening merrily together in feasting and conversation, till it\nwas time to repose.\n\nIn the morning the young man said, \"My friend, this lodging is\nnot fitting for us; go, and hire a better.\" \"To hear is to obey,\"\nreplied I, and departed to the principal serai, where I hired an\nupper apartment, to which we removed. He then gave me ten\ndeenars, with orders to purchase carpets and cushions, which I\ndid, and on my return found before him a package, containing\nprincely vestments. These he gave to me, desiring that I would go\nto the bath, and, after bathing, put them on. I obeyed his\ncommands, dressed myself, and found in each pocket a hundred\ndeenars. I was not a little proud of my improved appearance in\nthe rich robes. On my return, he praised my figure, and seated me\nby him, when we refreshed ourselves, and chatted on various\nsubjects. At length he gave me a bundle, desiring that I would\npresent it to the sultan, and at the same time demand his\ndaughter in marriage for myself, assuring me that my request\nwould meet a ready compliance.\n\nThe young man commanded a slave he had bought to attend me, who\ncarried the bundle, and I set out for the palace; near which I\nfound a great crowd of grandees, officers, and guards, who seeing\nme so richly habited, inquired respectfully what I wanted. Upon\nmy replying that my business was with the sultan, they informed\nthe ushers, who introduced me to the presence. I made the\ncustomary obeisance, and the sultan returned my salute; after\nwhich I presented the bundle before him, saying, \"Will my lord\naccept this trifle, becoming my humble situation to offer, but\ncertainly not worthy the royal dignity to receive?\" The sultan\ncommanded the package to be opened; when, lo! it contained a\ncomplete dress of royal apparel, richer than had ever been before\nseen, at which the sultan was astonished, and exclaimed,\n\"Heavens! I have nothing like this, nor ever possessed so\nmagnificent a suit; it shall be accepted: but inform me, Shekh,\nwhat thou requirest in return for so valuable an offering.\"\n\"Mighty sovereign,\" replied I, \"my wish is to become thy relation\nby espousing that precious gem of the casket of beauty, thy\nincomparable daughter.\"\n\nWhen the sultan had heard this request, he turned towards his\nvizier and said, \"Advise me how I should act in this affair.\"\nUpon which the minister replied, \"Shew him, my lord, your most\nvaluable diamond, and inquire if he has any one equally precious\nto match it as a marriage present for your daughter.\" The sultan\ndid so; when I said, \"If I present two, will you give me your\ndaughter?\" To which he assented, and I took my leave, carrying\nwith me the diamond, to shew the young man as a model. Upon my\narrival at our serai, I informed him of what passed, when he\nexamined the diamond, and said, \"The day is now far spent, but\ntomorrow I will procure ten like it, which thou shalt present to\nthe sultan.\" Accordingly in the morning he walked out, and in the\nspace of an hour returned with ten diamonds, which he gave me,\nand I hastened with them to the sultan. When he beheld the\nprecious stones he was enraptured at their brilliancy, and again\nconsulted his vizier how he should act in this business. \"My\nlord,\" replied the minister, \"you only required one diamond of\nthe Shekh, and he has presented you with ten: it is therefore\nincumbent upon you to give him your daughter.\"\n\nThe sultan now sent for the cauzees and effendis, who drew up the\ndeed of espousals, which they gave me, when I returned to our\nserai, and shewed it to the young man, who said, \"It is well; go\nand complete thy marriage; but I entreat that thou wilt not\nconsummate thy nuptials till I shall give thee permission.\" \"To\nhear is to obey,\" replied I. When it was night I entered the\nprincess's apartment, but sat down at a distance from her, and\ndid not speak till morning, when I bade her farewell, and took my\nleave for the day. I observed the same conduct the second night\nand the third, upon which, offended at my coldness, she\ncomplained to her mother, who informed the sultan of my\naffronting behaviour.\n\nThe sultan sent for me to his presence, and with much anger\nthreatened, if I should continue my coldness to the princess\nanother evening, that he would put me to death. Upon this I\nhastened to inform my friend at the serai, who commanded, that\nwhen I should next be alone with my wife I should demand of her a\nbracelet which she wore upon her right arm, and bring it to him,\nafter which I might consummate my nuptials. I replied, \"To hear\nis to obey;\" and the next evening, when I entered the apartment,\nsaid to my wife, \"If thou desirest that we should live happily\ntogether, give me the bracelet on thy right arm.\" She did so\nimmediately, when I carried it to the young man, and, returning\nto the palace, slept, as I supposed, with the princess till\nmorning. Guess, however, what was my surprise, when on awaking I\nfound myself lying in my first humble lodging, stripped of my\nrich vestments, and saw on the ground my former mean attire;\nnamely, an old vest, a pair of tattered drawers, and a ragged\nturban, as full of holes as a sieve. When I had somewhat\nrecovered my senses, I put them on and walked out in a melancholy\nmood, regretting my lost happiness, and not knowing what I should\ndo to recover it. As I strolled towards the palace, I beheld\nsitting in the street a fortune-teller, who had some written\npapers before him, and was casting omens for the bystanders. I\nadvanced, and made him a salute, which he returned kindly; and\nafter looking attentively in my face, exclaimed, \"What! has that\naccursed wretch betrayed thee, and torn thee from thy wife?\" I\nreplied, \"Yes.\" Upon this he desired me to wait a little, and\nseated me by him. When his employers were departed, he said, \"My\nfriend, the ape which you purchased for ten pieces of silver, and\nwho soon after was transformed into a young man, is not of human\nrace, but a genie deeply in love with the princess whom you\nmarried. However, he could not approach her while she wore the\nbracelet, containing a powerful charm, upon her right arm, and\ntherefore made use of thee to obtain it. He is now with her, but\nI will soon effect his destruction, that genii and men may be\nsecure from his wickedness, for he is one of the rebellious and\naccursed spirits who disobeyed our lord Solomon, son of David.\"\n\nAfter this, the fortune-teller wrote a note, which having sealed\nand directed, he gave it to me, saying, \"Go to a certain spot,\nwait there, and observe those who may approach. Fortify thy mind,\nand when thou shall see a great personage attended by a numerous\ntrain, present to him this letter, when he will accomplish thy\ndesires.\" I took the note, immediately departed for the place to\nwhich the fortune-teller had directed me, and after travelling\nall night and half the next day reached it, and sat down to wait\nfor what might happen. The evening shut in, and about a fourth\npart of the night had passed, when a great glare of lights\nappeared advancing towards me from a distance; and as it shone\nnearer, I perceived persons carrying flambeaux and lanterns, also\na numerous train of attendants, as if belonging to some mighty\nsultan. My mind was alarmed, but I recovered myself, and resolved\nto stay where I was. A great concourse passed by me, marching two\nand two, and at length there appeared a sultan of the genii,\nsurrounded by a splendid attendance; upon which I advanced as\nboldly as I could, and having prostrated myself, presented the\nletter, which he opened, and read aloud, as follows:\n\n\"Be it known unto thee, O sultan of the genii, that the bearer of\nthis is in distress, from which thou must relieve him by\ndestroying his enemy. Shouldst thou not assist him, beware of thy\nown safety. Farewell.\"\n\nWhen the sultan of the genii had read the note, he called out to\none of his messengers, who immediately attended before him, and\ncommanded him to bring into his presence without delay the genie\nwho had enchanted the daughter of the sultan of Cairo. \"To hear\nis to obey,\" replied the messenger, and instantly disappearing,\nwas absent for about an hour, when he returned with the criminal,\nand placed him before the sultan of the genii, who exclaimed,\n\"Accursed wretch, hast thou ill-treated this man?\"\n\n\"Mighty sovereign,\" replied the genie, \"my crime proceeded from\nlove of the princess, who wore a charm in her bracelet which\nprevented my approaching her, and therefore I made use of this\nman. He procured me the charm, and I now have her in my power;\nbut I love her tenderly, and have not injured her.\" \"Return the\nbracelet instantly,\" replied the sultan of the genii, \"that the\nman may recover his wife, or I will command an executioner to\nstrike off thy head.\" The offending genie, who was of an accursed\nand obstinate race, upon hearing these words was inflamed with\npassion, and insolently cried out, \"I will not return the\nbracelet, for no one shall possess the princess but myself.\"\nHaving said thus, he attempted to fly away, but in vain.\n\nThe sultan of the genii now commanded his attendants to bind the\ncriminal in chains, which they did, and having forced the\nbracelet from him, struck off his head. The sultan then presented\nme the charm, which was no sooner in my hand than all the genii\nvanished from my sight, and I found myself dressed as before, in\nthe rich habit given me by the pretended young man. I proceeded\nto the city, which I entered, and when I came near the palace was\nrecognized by the guards and courtiers, who cried out in raptures\nof joy, \"Our lost prince is at length returned.\" They paid their\nrespects, and I entered the apartment of the princess, whom I\nfound in a deep sleep, in which state she had been ever since my\ndeparture. On my replacing the bracelet on her arm, she awoke.\nAfter this we lived together in all happiness till the death of\nher father, who appointed me his successor, having no son, so\nthat I am what I am.\n\nWhen the sultan of Cairo had finished his narrative, the\nabdicated prince expressed his surprise at his adventures: upon\nwhich the sultan said, \"Wonder not, my brother, at the\ndispensations of the Almighty, for he worketh in secret, and when\nhe pleaseth revealeth his mysteries. Since thou hast quitted thy\nkingdom, if thou choosest, thou shalt be my vizier, and we will\nlive together as friends and brothers.\" \"To hear is to obey,\"\nreplied the prince. The sultan then constituted him vizier,\nenrobed him in a rich uniform, and committed to him his seal, the\ninkstand, and other insignia of office, at the same time\nconferring upon him a magnificent palace, superbly furnished with\ngorgeous carpets, musnuds, and cushions: belonging to it were\nalso extensive gardens. The vizier entered immediately upon his\nnew office; held his divans regularly twice every day, and judged\nso equitably on all appeals brought before him, that his fame for\njustice and impartiality was soon spread abroad; insomuch, that\nwhoever had a cause or dispute willingly referred it to his\ndecision, and was satisfied with it, praying for his life and\nprosperity. In this state he remained for many years, the\nsovereign pleased with him, and he happy under the protection of\nthe sultan of Cairo, so that he did not regret his abdicated\nkingdom.\n\nIt happened one evening that the mind of the sultan was\ndepressed, upon which he sent for the vizier, who attended; when\nhe said, \"Vizier, my mind is so uneasy that nothing will amuse\nme.\" \"Enter then,\" replied the minister, \"into thy cabinet, and\nlook at thy jewels, the examination of which may perhaps\nentertain thee.\" The sultan did so, but it had no effect on his\nlassitude; when he said, \"Vizier, this dispiritedness will not\nquit me, and nothing gives me pleasure within my palace; let us,\ntherefore, walk out in disguise.\" \"To hear is to obey,\" replied\nthe vizier. They then retired into a private chamber, and putting\non the habits of dervishes of Arabia, strolled through the city\ntill they reached a hospital for lunatics, which they entered.\nHere they beheld two men, one reading and the other listening to\nhim; when the sultan said to himself, \"This is surprising;\" and\naddressed the men, saying, \"Are you really mad?\" They replied,\n\"We are not mad, but our stories are so wonderful, that were they\nrecorded on a tablet of adamant, they would remain for examples\nto them who would be advised.\" \"Let us hear them,\" said the\nsultan; upon which, the man who had been reading exclaimed, \"Hear\nmine first!\" and thus began.\n\n\n\n\n                    Story of the First Lunatic.\n\n\n\nI was a merchant, and had a warehouse in which were Indian goods\nof all sorts, and of the highest value, and I bought and sold to\ngreat advantage. One day as I was sitting in my warehouse,\naccording to custom, busy in buying and selling, an old woman\ncame in, telling her beads, and greeted me. I returned her\nsalute, when she sat down, and said, \"Sir, have you any choice\nIndian cloths?\" \"Yes, my mistress,\" replied I, \"of all sorts that\nyou can possibly wish for.\" \"Bring them,\" said she. I showed her\na piece of great value, with which she was highly pleased, and\ninquired the price. \"Five hundred deenars,\" replied I: she took\nout her purse, paid me the money, and went away with the cloth;\nupon which I had a profit of one hundred and fifty deenars. She\nreturned the next day, bought another piece, paid for it, and, in\nshort, did the same for fifteen days successively, paying me\nregularly for each purchase. On the sixteenth day she came to my\nshop as usual, chose the cloth and was going to pay me, but\nmissed her purse; upon which she said, \"Sir, I have unfortunately\nleft my purse at home.\" \"Mistress,\" replied I, \"it is of no\nconsequence; take the cloth, and if you return, well, if not, you\nare welcome to this trifle:\" she would not take it: I pressed\nher, but in vain. Much friendly argument passed between us, till\nat length she said, \"Sir, you contradict, and I contradict, but\nwe shall never agree unless you will favour me by accompanying me\nto my house to receive the value of your goods; so lock up your\nwarehouse, lest any thing should be lost in your absence.\"\nAccordingly I fastened my doors, and accompanied her; we walked\non conversing, till we came near her house, when she pulled out a\nhandkerchief from her girdle, and said, \"My desire is to tie this\nover thy eyes.\" \"On what account?\" replied I. \"Because,\" said\nshe, \"in our way are several houses, the gates of which are open,\nand the women sitting in their balconies, so that possibly thy\neyes may glance upon some one of them, and thy heart be\ndistracted with love; for in this part are many beautiful\ndamsels, who would fascinate even a religious, and therefore I am\nalarmed for thy peace.\"\n\nUpon this I said to myself, \"This old woman advises me properly,\"\nand I consented to her demand; when she bound the handkerchief\nover my eyes, and we proceeded till we arrived at her house. She\nknocked at the door, which was opened by a damsel, and we\nentered. The old lady then took the handkerchief from my eyes,\nwhen I looked around me, and perceived that I was in a mansion\nhaving several quadrangles, highly ornamented, and resembling the\npalaces of the sultan.\n\nThe old lady now desired me to retire into a room, which I did,\nand there beheld heaped together all the pieces of cloth which\nshe had purchased of me, at which I was surprised, but still more\nso when two damsels beautiful as resplendent moons approached,\nand having divided a piece of cloth into halves, each took one,\nand wrapped it round her hand. They then sprinkled the floor with\nrose water and other scents, wiping it with the cloth, and\nrubbing it till it became bright as silver; after which they\nwithdrew into an adjoining room, and brought out at least fifty\nstools, which they set down, and placed over each a rich\ncovering, with cushions of tissue. They then fetched a large\nstool of gold, and having put upon it a carpet and cushions of\ngold brocade, retired. Not long after this, there descended from\nthe staircase by two and two, as many damsels in number as the\nstools; upon each of which one sat down. At last descended a lady\nattended by ten damsels, who placed herself upon the larger\nstool. When I beheld her, my lord, my senses forsook me, and I\nwas in raptures at her beauty, her stature, and elegance, as she\nchatted and laughed with her companions.\n\nAt length she exclaimed, \"My dear mother!\" when the old woman\nentered; to whom she said, \"Hast thou brought the young man?\" She\nreplied, \"Yes, my daughter, he is ready to attend thee.\" Upon\nwhich the lady said, \"Introduce him to me.\" When I heard this I\nwas alarmed, and said to myself, \"There is no refuge but in the\nmost high God; doubtless she has discovered my being here, and\nwill command me to be put to death.\" The old woman came to me,\nand leading me by the hand, took me before the lady seated on the\ngolden stool, who, on seeing me, smiled, made a graceful salute,\nand waved her hand for a seat to be brought, which was done, and\nplaced close to her own. She then commanded me to sit down, which\nI did with much confusion.\n\nWhen I was seated, the lady began to chat and joke with me,\nsaying, \"What think you of my appearance and my beauty, do you\njudge me worthy of your affection? shall I be your partner and\nyou mine?\" When I had heard these words, I replied, \"How, dear\nlady, dare I presume, who am not worthy to be your servant, to\narrive at such an honour?\" Upon this, she said, \"Young man, my\nwords have no evasion in them; be not discouraged, or fearful of\nreturning me an answer, for my heart is devoted to thy love.\" I\nnow perceived, my lord, that the lady was anxious to marry me;\nbut could not conceive on what account, or who could have given\nher intelligence concerning me. She continued to shew me so many\npleasing attentions, that at length I was emboldened to say,\n\"Lady, if your words to me are sincere, according to the proverb,\nno time is so favourable as the present.\" \"There cannot,\" said\nshe, \"be a more fortunate day than this for our union.\" Upon this\nI replied, \"My dear lady, how can I allot for you a proper\ndowry?\" \"The value of the cloth you intrusted to the old lady,\nwho is my mother,\" answered she, \"is sufficient.\" \"That cannot be\nenough,\" rejoined I. \"Nothing more shall be added,\" exclaimed the\nlady; \"and my intention is this instant to send for the cauzee\nand witnesses, and I will choose a trustee, that they may unite\nus without delay. We will celebrate our nuptials this very\nevening, but upon one condition.\" \"What is that?\" replied I. She\nanswered, \"That you bind yourself not to address or hold\nconversation with any woman but myself.\" My lord, I was eager to\nbe in possession of so beautiful a woman, and therefore said to\nher, \"I agree, and will never contradict thee either by my words\nor actions.\" She then sent for the cauzee and witnesses, and\nappointed a trustee, after which we were married. After the\nceremony, she ordered coffee and sherbet, gave money to the\ncauzee, a dress of honour to her trustee, and they departed.\n\nI was lost in astonishment, and said to myself, \"Do I dream, or\nam I awake?\" She now commanded her damsels to empty the warm\nbath, fill it afresh, and prepare cloths and necessaries for\nbathing. When they had done as she desired, she ordered the\neunuchs in waiting to conduct me to the hummaum, and gave them a\nrich dress. They led me into an elegant apartment, difficult for\nspeech to describe. They spread many-coloured carpets, upon which\nI sat down and undressed; after which I entered the hummaum, and\nperceived delightful odours from sandal wood, of comorin, and\nother sweets diffusing from every part. Here they seated me,\ncovered me with perfumed soaps, and rubbed me till my body became\nbright as silver; when they brought the basins, and I washed with\nwarm water, after which they gave me rose-water, and I poured it\nover me. They next brought in sweet-smelling salves, which I\nrubbed over me, and then repaired to the hummaum, where I found a\nroyal dress, in which the eunuchs arrayed me; and after perfuming\nme with incense of sandal wood, brought in confections, coffee,\nand sherberts of various sorts, with which I refreshed myself. I\nthen left the bath with my attendants, who shewed me into the\ngrand hall of the palace, which was spread with most magnificent\ncarpets, stools, and cushions. Here the lady met me, attired in a\nnew habit, more sumptuous than I had seen her in before.\n\nWhen I beheld my bride, she appeared to me, from the richness of\nher ornaments, like a concealed treasure from which the talisman\nhad just been removed. She sat down by me, and smiled so\nfascinatingly upon me, I could no longer contain my rapture. In a\nshort time she retired, but soon returned again in a dress richer\nthan her last. I again embraced her, and in short, my lord, we\nremained together for ten days in the height of happiness and\nenjoyment. At the end of this period I recollected my mother, and\nsaid to my wife, \"It is so long since I have been absent from\nhome, and since my mother has not seen me, that I am certain she\nmust be anxious concerning me. Will you permit me to visit her\nand look after my warehouse?\" \"There can be no impediment,\"\nreplied she; \"you may visit your mother daily, and employ\nyourself in your warehouse, but the old woman must conduct you\nand bring you back;\" to which I assented.\n\nThe old lady then came in, tied a handkerchief over my eyes,\nconducted me to the spot where she had first blindfolded me, and\nsaid, \"You will return here about the time of evening prayer, and\nwill find me waiting.\" I left her, and repaired to my mother,\nwhom I found in great affliction at my absence, and weeping\nbitterly. Upon seeing me, she ran and embraced me with tears of\njoy. I said, \"Weep not, my dear mother, for my absence has been\nowing to the highest good fortune.\" I then informed her of my\nlucky adventure, when she exclaimed, \"May Allah protect thee, my\nson, but visit me at least every two days, that my affection for\nthee may be gratified.\" I then went to my warehouse, and employed\nmyself as usual till evening, when I returned to the place\nappointed, where I found the old lady, who blindfolded me as\nbefore, and conducted me to the palace of my wife, who received\nme with fondness. For three months I continued to go and come in\nthis manner, but I could not help wishing to know whom I had\nmarried, and wondering at the affluence, splendour, and\nattendance that appeared around her.\n\nAt length I found an opportunity of being in private with one of\nher black slaves, and questioned her concerning her mistress. \"My\nlord,\" replied she, \"the history of my mistress is wonderful; but\nI dare not relate it, lest she should put me to death.\" Upon\nthis, I assured her, that if she would inform me, no one should\nknow it but myself, and I took an oath of secrecy, when she began\nas follows:\n\n\"My mistress one day went to a public bath, intending to amuse\nherself, for which purpose she made such preparations of\ndelicacies and rarities, as were worth a camel's load of\ntreasure, and when she left the hummaum, made an excursion to a\ngarden, where a splendid collation was laid out. Here she\ncontinued enjoying herself till evening, when she ordered her\nretinue to make ready for departure, and the fragments of the\nentertainment to be distributed among the poor. On her return,\nshe passed through the street in which is your warehouse. It was\nupon a Friday, when you were sitting in conversation with a\nfriend, arrayed in your best attire. She beheld you, her heart\nwas stricken with love, but no one perceived her emotion.\nHowever, she had no sooner reached her palace than she became low\nand melancholy, and her appetite failed her. At length she took\nto her bed, her colour left her, sleep forsook her, and she\nbecame very weak. Upon this her mother went to call in a\nphysician, that he might consider what might be the cause of her\ndaughter's indisposition; but on the way she met a skilful old\nlady, with whom she returned home.\n\n\"The old lady on feeling the pulse of her patient, and after\nasking several questions, could perceive in her no bodily ailment\nor pain; upon which she judged she was in love, but did not\nventure to speak to her before her mother of her suspicions. She\ntook leave, and said, 'By God's blessing thou wilt soon recover;\nI will return tomorrow, and bring with me an infallible\nmedicine.' She then took her mother aside, and said, 'My good\nlady, be not angry at what I shall remark, but thy daughter has\nno bodily disorder; she is in love, and there can be no cure for\nher but by a union with her beloved.' The mother, on the\ndeparture of the old lady, repaired to her daughter, and with\nmuch difficulty, after twenty days of denial (for my mistress's\nmodesty was hurt), obtained from her a description of your\nperson, and the street in which you lived; upon which she behaved\nto you in the manner you are well acquainted with, brought you\nhere, and you know what followed. Such is her history,\" concluded\nthe black slave, \"which you must not reveal.\" \"I will not,\"\nreplied I; and after this I continued to live very happily with\nmy wife, going daily to see my mother, to attend in my warehouse,\nand return in the evening, conducted as usual by the old lady my\nmother-in-law.\n\nOne day, after the expiration of some months, as I was sitting in\nmy warehouse, a damsel came into the street with the image of a\ncock, composed of jewelry. It was set with pearls, diamonds, and\nother precious stones, and she offered it to the merchants for\nsale; when they began bidding for it at five hundred deenars, and\nwent to nine hundred and fifty; all which I observed in silence\nand did not interfere by speaking or bidding. At length the\ndamsel came up to me, and said, \"My lord, all the merchants have\nincreased in bidding for my precious toy, but you have neither\nbidden, nor taken any notice of me.\" \"I have no occasion for it,\"\nreplied I. \"Nay,\" exclaimed she, \"but you must bid something\nmore.\" \"Since I must,\" I answered, \"I will give fifty deenars\nmore, which will be just a thousand.\" She accepted the price, and\nI went into my warehouse to fetch the money to pay her, saying to\nmyself, \"I will present this curiosity to my wife, as it may\nplease her.\" When I was going to pay the money, the damsel would\nnot take it, but said, \"My lord, I have a request to make, which\nis, that I may snatch one kiss from your cheek as the price of my\njewelry, for I want nothing else.\" Upon this, I thought to\nmyself, a single kiss of my cheek is an easy price for the value\nof a thousand deenars, and consented; when she came up to me and\ngave me a kiss, but at the same time a most severe bite; left the\npiece of jewelry, and went away with the greatest haste.\n\nIn the evening I repaired to the house of my wife, and found the\nold lady waiting as usual at the accustomed spot. She tied the\nhandkerchief over my eyes, and when she had conducted me home,\ntook it off. I found my wife sitting upon her golden stool, but\ndressed in scarlet, and with an angry countenance; upon which I\nsaid to myself, \"God grant all may be well.\" I approached her,\ntook out the toy set with diamonds and rubies (thinking that on\nsight of it her ill-humour would vanish), and said, \"My mistress,\naccept this, for it is curious, and I purchased it for thee.\" She\ntook it into her hand, and examined it on all sides; after which\nshe exclaimed, \"Didst thou really purchase this on my account?\"\n\"By heavens,\" replied I, \"I bought it for thy sake, for a\nthousand deenars.\" Upon this she frowned angrily upon me, and\nexclaimed, \"What means that wound upon thy cheek?\" I was\noverwhelmed with confusion.\n\nWhile I was in this state, she called out to her attendants, who\nimmediately descended the staircase, carrying the headless corpse\nof a young girl, the head placed upon the middle of the body. I\nlooked, and knew it to be the head of the damsel who had sold me\nthe piece of jewelry for a kiss, and had bitten my cheek. My wife\nnow exclaimed, \"I had no occasion for such baubles, for I have\nmany of them; but I wished to know if thou wert so faithful to\nthy agreement with me, as not to address another woman than\nmyself, and sent the girl to try thee. Since thy promise has been\nbroken, begone, and return no more.\"\n\nWhen my wife had finished her speech, the old woman took me by\nthe hand, tied the handkerchief over my eyes, and conducted me to\nthe usual spot, when she said, \"Begone!\" and disappeared. I was\nso overcome by the sad adventure, and the loss of my wife, that I\nran through the streets like one frantic, crying, \"Ah, what\nbeauty, what grace, what elegance did she possess!\" upon which,\nthe people, supposing me distracted, conducted me to this\nhospital, and bound me in fetters, as you see.\n\nWhen the sultan had heard the young man's story, he was much\naffected, inclined his head for some instants in deep thought,\nthen said to his vizier, \"By Allah, who has intrusted me with\nsovereignty, if thou dost not discover the lady who married this\nyoung man, thy head shall be forfeited.\" The vizier was alarmed,\nbut recovering himself, replied, \"Allow me three days to search,\"\nto which the sultan consented. The vizier then took with him the\nyoung man, and for two days was at a loss how to find out the\nhouse. At length he inquired if he should know the spot where the\nhandkerchief was tied over his eyes, and the gateway at which it\nwas taken off, of both which the youth professed to be certain.\nHe conducted the minister to the street where he was blindfolded,\nand they reached a gateway, at which the vizier knocked. It was\nopened by the domestics, who knowing the vizier, and seeing the\nyoung man with him, were alarmed, and ran to communicate the\nquality of the visitants to their mistress. She desired to know\nthe commands of the vizier, who informed her, that it was the\nsultan's pleasure she should be reconciled to her husband; to\nwhich she replied, \"Since the sultan hath commanded, my duty is\nobedience.\" The young man was reunited to his wife, who was the\ndaughter of a former sultan of Cairo.\n\nSuch were the adventures of the young man who was reading in the\nhospital. We now recite those of the youth who was listening to\nhim. Upon the sultan's inquiring his story, he began as follows.\n\n\n\n\n                     Story of the Second Lunatic.\n\n\n\nMy lord, I was by profession a merchant, and on my commencing\nbusiness the youngest of my trade, having but just entered my\nsixteenth year. As I was one day busy in my warehouse, a damsel\nentering, put into my hands a packet, which, on opening, I found\nto contain several copies of verses in praise of myself, with a\nletter expressive of ardent affection for my person. Supposing\nthem meant only as banter, I foolishly flew into a passion,\nseized the bearer, and beat her severely. On her departure, I\nreflected on my improper behaviour, dreaded lest she should\ncomplain to her relations, and that they might revenge themselves\nupon me by some sudden assault. I repented of what I had done,\nbut alas! it was when repentance would not avail.\n\nTen days had passed, when, as I was sitting in my warehouse as\nusual, a young lady entered most superbly dressed, and\nodoriferously perfumed. She resembled in brightness the moon on\nits fourteenth night, so that when I gazed upon her my senses\nforsook me, and I was incapable of attention to any thing but\nherself. She addressed me, saying, \"Young man, have you in your\nwarehouse any female ornaments?\" to which I replied, \"Of all\nsorts, my lady, that you can possibly require.\" Upon this she\ndesired to see some bracelets for the ankles, which I shewed her,\nwhen holding out her foot, she desired me to try them on. I did\nso. After this, she asked for a necklace, and opening her veil,\nmade me tie it on. She then chose a pair of bracelets, and\nextending her hands, desired me to put them on her wrists, which\nI did; after which, she inquired the amount of the whole, when I\nexclaimed, \"Fair lady, accept them as a present, and inform me\nwhose daughter thou art.\" She replied, \"I am the daughter of the\nchief magistrate;\" when I said, \"My wish is to demand thee in\nmarriage of thy father.\" She consented that I should, but\nobserved, \"When you ask me of my father, he will say, I have only\none daughter, who is a cripple, and wretchedly deformed. Do thou,\nhowever, reply, that thou art willing to accept her, and if he\nremonstrates, still insist upon wedding her.\" I then asked when I\nshould make my proposals. She replied, \"The best time to visit my\nfather is on the Eed al Koorbaun, which is three days hence, as\nthou wilt then find with him all his relations and friends, and\nour espousals will add to his festivity.\"\n\nAgreeably to the lady's instructions, on the third day following\nI repaired with several of my friends to the house of the chief\nmagistrate, and found him sitting in state, receiving the\ncompliments of the day from the chief inhabitants of the city. We\nmade our obeisance, which he graciously noticed, received us with\nkindness, and entered familiarly into conversation. A collation\nwas brought in, the cloth spread, and we partook with him of the\nviands, after which we drank coffee. I then stood up, saying, \"My\nlord, I am desirous of espousing the chaste lady your daughter,\nmore precious than the richest gem.\"\n\nWhen the chief magistrate heard my speech, he inclined his head\nfor some time towards the earth in deep thought, after which he\nsaid, \"Son, my daughter is an unfortunate cripple, miserably\ndeformed.\" To this I replied, \"To have her for my wife is all I\nwish.\" The magistrate then said, \"If thou wilt have a wife of\nthis description, it must be on condition that she shall not be\ntaken from my house, that thou shalt consummate the marriage\nhere, and abide with me.\" I replied, \"To hear is to obey;\"\nbelieving that she was the beautiful damsel who had visited my\nwarehouse, and whose charms I had so rapturously beheld. In\nshort, the nuptial ceremony was performed, when I said to myself,\n\"Heavens! is it possible that I am become master of this\nbeautiful damsel, and shall possess her charms!\"\n\nWhen night set in, the domestics of the chief magistrate\nintroduced me into the chamber of my bride. I ran eagerly to gaze\nupon her beauty, but guess my mortification when I beheld her a\nwretched dwarf, a cripple, and deformed, as her father had\nrepresented. I was overcome with horror at the sight of her,\ndistracted with disappointment, and ashamed of my own foolish\ncredulity, but I dared not complain, as I had voluntarily\naccepted her as my wife from the magistrate: I sat down silently\nin one corner of the chamber, and she in another, for I could not\nbring myself to approach her, as she was disgusting to the sight\nof man, and my soul could not endure her company.\n\nAt day-break I left the house of my father-in-law, repaired to my\nwarehouse, which I opened, and sat down much distressed in mind, with\nmy head dizzy, like one suffering from intoxication, when lo! who\nshould appear before me but the lady who had put upon me so mortifying\na trick. She entered, and paid me the customary salute. I was enraged,\nand began to abuse her, saying, \"Wherefore hast thou put upon me such\na stratagem?\" when she replied, \"Wretch, recollect the day that I\nbrought thee a packet, in return for which you seized, beat, reviled,\nand drove me scornfully away. In retaliation for such treatment, I\nhave taken revenge by giving thee such a delectable bride.\" I now fell\nat her feet, entreated her forgiveness, and expressed my repentance;\nupon which, smiling upon me, she said, \"Be not uneasy, for as I have\nplunged thee into a dilemma, I will also relieve thee from it. Go to\nthe aga of the leather-dressers, give him a sum of money, and desire\nhim to call thee his son; then repair with him, attended by his\nfollowers and musicians, to the house of the chief magistrate. When he\ninquires the cause of their coming, let the aga say, 'My lord, we are\ncome to congratulate thy son-in-law, who is my beloved child, on his\nmarriage with thy daughter, and to rejoice with him.' The magistrate\nwill be furiously enraged, and exclaim, 'Dog, is it possible that,\nbeing a leather-dresser, thou durst marry the daughter of the chief\nmagistrate?' Do thou then reply, 'My lord, my ambition was to be\nennobled by your alliance, and as I have married your lordship's\ndaughter, the mean appellation of leather-dresser will soon be\nforgotten and lost in the glorious title of the son-in-law of your\nlordship; I shall be promoted under your protection, and purified from\nthe odour of the tan-pit, so that my offspring will smell as sweet as\nthat of a syed.\"\n\nI did as the lady had directed me, and having bribed the chief of\nthe leather-dressers, he accompanied me with the body of his\ntrade, and a numerous party of musicians, vocal and instrumental,\nto my father-in-law's house, before which they began to sing and\ndance with great clamour every now and then crying out, \"Long\nlive our noble kinsman! Long live the son-in-law of the chief\nmagistrate!\" The magistrate inquired into the cause of our\nintrusive rejoicing, when I told him my kinsfolk were\ncongratulating me upon my alliance with his illustrious house,\nand come to thank him for the honour he had done the whole body\nof leather-dressers in my person. The chief magistrate on hearing\nthis was passionately enraged, and abused me; but reflecting that\nwithout my consent the supposed disgrace of his noble house could\nnot be done away, he became calm, and offered me money to divorce\nhis daughter. At first I pretended unwillingness, but at length\naffecting to be moved by his earnest entreaties, accepted forty\npurses of gold, which he gave me to repudiate my deformed wife,\nand I returned home with a lightened heart. The day following,\nthe lady came to my warehouse, when I thanked her for having\nfreed me from my ridiculous marriage, and begged her to accept of\nme as a husband. To this she consented, but said she was, she\nfeared, too meanly born for me to marry, as her father was but a\ncook, though of eminence in his way, and very rich. I replied,\n\"Even though he were a leather-dresser, thy charms would grace a\nthrone.\" In short, my lord, we were married, and have lived\ntogether very happily from the day of our union to the present\ntime.\n\nSuch is my story, but it is not so surprising as that of the\nlearned man and his pupil, whose adventures were among the\nmiracles of the age, which I will relate.\n\n\n\n\n Story of the retired Sage and his Pupil, related to the Sultan\n                     by the Second Lunatic,\n\n\n\nThere was a learned and devout sage, who in order to enjoy his\nstudies and contemplations uninterrupted, had secluded himself\nfrom the world in one of the cells of the principal mosque of the\ncity, which he never left but upon the most pressing occasions.\nHe had led this retired life some years, when a boy one day\nentered his cell, and earnestly begged to be received as his\npupil and domestic. The sage liked his appearance, consented to\nhis request, inquired who were his parents, and whence he came;\nbut the lad could not inform him, and said, \"Ask not who I am,\nfor I am an orphan, and know not whether I belong to heaven or\nearth.\" The shekh did not press him, and the boy served him with\nthe most undeviating punctuality and attention for twelve years,\nduring which he received his instructions in every branch of\nlearning, and became a most accomplished youth. At the end of the\ntwelve years, the youth one day heard some young men praising the\nbeauty of the sultan's daughter, and saying that her charms were\nunequalled by those of all the princesses of the age. This\ndiscourse excited his curiosity to behold so lovely a creature.\nHe repaired to his master, saying, \"My lord, I understand that\nthe sultan hath a most beautiful daughter, and my soul longs\nardently for an opportunity of beholding her, if only for an\ninstant.\" The sage exclaimed, \"What have such as we to do, my\nson, with the daughters of sovereigns or of others? We are a\nsecluded order, and should refrain ourselves from associating\nwith the great ones of this world.\" The old man continued to warn\nhis pupil against the vanities of the age, and to divert him from\nhis purpose; but the more he advised and remonstrated, the more\nintent the youth became on his object, which affected his mind so\nmuch, that he grew very uneasy, and was continually weeping.\n\nThe sage observing his distress was afflicted at it, and at\nlength said to the youth, \"Will one look at the princess satisfy\nthy wishes?\" \"It shall,\" replied the pupil. The sage then\nanointed one of his eyes with a sort of ointment; when lo! he\nbecame to appearance as a man divided into half, and the sage\nordered him to go and hop about the city. The youth obeyed his\ncommands, but he had no sooner got into the street than he was\nsurrounded by a crowd of passengers, who gazed with astonishment\nat his appearance. The report of so strange a phenomenon as a\nhalf man soon spread throughout the city, and reached the palace\nof the sultan, who sent for the supposed monster to the presence.\nThe youth was conveyed to the palace, where the whole court gazed\nupon him with wonder; after which he was taken into the haram, to\ngratify the curiosity of the women. He beheld the princess, and\nwas fascinated by the brilliancy of her charms, insomuch, that he\nsaid to himself, \"If I cannot wed her, I will put myself to\ndeath.\"\n\nThe youth being at length dismissed from the palace, returned\nhome; his heart tortured with love for the daughter of the\nsultan. On his arrival, the sage inquired if he had seen the\nprincess. \"I have,\" replied the youth, \"but one look is not\nenough, and I cannot rest until I shall sit beside her, and feast\nmy eyes till they are wearied with gazing upon her.\" \"Alas! my\nson,\" exclaimed the old man, \"I fear for thy safety: we are\nreligious men, and should avoid temptations; nor does it become\nus to have any thing to do with the sultan.\" To this the youth\nreplied, \"My lord, unless I shall sit beside her, and touch her\nneck with my hands, I shall, through despair, put myself to\ndeath.\"\n\nAt these words, the sage was alarmed for the safety of his pupil,\nand said to himself, \"I will, if possible, preserve this amiable\nyouth, and perchance Allah may gratify his wishes.\" He then\nanointed both his eyes with an ointment, which had the effect of\nrendering him invisible to human sight. After this, he said, \"Go,\nmy son, and gratify thy wishes, but return again, and be not too\nlong absent from thy duty.\"\n\nThe youth hastened towards the royal palace, which he entered\nunperceived, and proceeded into the haram, where he seated\nhimself near the daughter of the sultan. For some time he\ncontented himself with gazing on her beauty, but at length\nextending his hands, touched her softly on the neck. As soon as\nshe felt his touch, the princess, alarmed, shrieked out\nviolently, and exclaimed, \"I seek refuge with Allah, from Satan\nthe accursed.\" Her mother and the ladies present, affrighted at\nher outcries, eagerly inquired the cause; when she said, \"Eblees,\nor some other evil spirit, hath this instant touched me on the\nneck.\"\n\nUpon this, the mother was alarmed and sent for her nurse, who,\nwhen informed of what had happened, declared, \"That nothing was\nso specific to drive away evil spirits as the smoke of camel's\nhair;\" a quantity of which was instantly brought, and being set\nfire to, the smoke of it filled the whole apartment, and so\naffected the eyes of the young man, that they watered\nexceedingly, when he unthinkingly wiped them with his\nhandkerchief, so that with his tears the ointment was soon washed\noff.\n\nThe ointment was no sooner wiped away from his eyes than the\nyoung man became visible, and the princess, her mother, and the\nladies, all at once uttered a general cry of astonishment and\nalarm; upon which the eunuchs rushed into the apartment. Seeing\nthe youth, they surrounded him, beat him unmercifully, then bound\nhim with cords, and dragged him before the sultan, whom they\ninformed of his having been found in the royal haram. The sultan,\nenraged, sent for an executioner, and commanded him to seize the\nculprit, to clothe him in a black habit patched over with flame\ncolour, to mount him upon a camel, and after parading with him\nthrough the streets of the city, to put him to death.\n\nThe executioner took the young man, dressed him as he had been\ndirected, placed him upon the camel, and led him through the\ncity, preceded by guards and a crier, who bawled out, \"Behold the\nmerited punishment of him who has dared to violate the sanctuary\nof the royal haram.\" The procession was followed by an\nincalculable crowd of people, who were astonished at the beauty\nof the young man, and the little concern he seemed to feel at his\nown situation.\n\nAt length the procession arrived in the square before the great\nmosque, when the sage, disturbed by the noise and concourse of\nthe people, looked from the window of his cell, and beheld the\ndisgraceful situation of his pupil. He was moved to pity, and\ninstantly calling upon the genii (for by his knowledge of magic\nand every abstruse science he had them all under his control),\ncommanded them to bring him the youth from the camel, and place\nin his room, without being perceived, some superannuated man.\nThey did so, and when the multitude saw the youth, as it were,\ntransformed into a well-known venerable shekh, they were stricken\nwith awe, and said, \"Heavens! the young man turns out to be our\nreverend chief of the herb-sellers;\" for the old man had long\nbeen accustomed to dispose of greens and sugarcane at the college\ngate near the great mosque, and was the oldest in his trade.\n\nThe executioner, on beholding the change of appearance in his\nprisoner, was confounded. He returned to the palace with the old\nman upon the camel, and followed by the crowd. He hastened or\ncontrive my death to the sultan, and said, \"My lord, the young\nman is vanished, and in his room became seated upon the camel\nthis venerable shekh, well known to the whole city.\" On hearing\nthis, the sultan was alarmed, and said to himself, \"Whoever has\nbeen able to perform this, can do things much more surprising He\nmay depose me from my kingdom.\"\n\nThe sultan's fears increased so much, that he was at a loss how\nto act. He summoned his vizier, and said, \"Advise me what to do\nin the affair of this strange youth, for I am utterly\nconfounded.\" The vizier for some time inclined his head towards\nthe ground in profound thought, then addressing the sultan, said,\n\"My lord, no one could have done this but by the help of genii,\nor by a power which we cannot comprehend, and he may possibly, if\nirritated, do you in future a greater injury respecting your\ndaughter. I advise, therefore, that you cause it to be proclaimed\nthroughout the city, that whoever has done this, if he will\nappear before you shall have pardon on the word of a sultan,\nwhich can never be broken. Should he then surrender himself,\nespouse him to your daughter, when perhaps his mind may be\nreconciled by her love. He has already beheld her, and seen the\nladies of the haram, so that nothing can save your honour but his\nunion with the princess.\"\n\nThe sultan approved the advice of his vizier, the proclamation was\nissued, and the crier proceeded through several streets, till at\nlength he reached the square of the great mosque. The pupil\nhearing the proclamation, was enraptured, and running to his\npatron, declared his intention of surrendering himself to the\nsultan. \"My son,\" said the sage, \"why shouldst thou do so? Hast\nthou not already suffered sufficiently?\" The youth replied,\n\"Nothing shall prevent me.\" Upon which the sage exclaimed, \"Go\nthen, my son, and my midnight prayers shall attend thee.\"\n\nThe youth now repaired to the hummaum, and having bathed, dressed\nhimself in his richest habit; after which he discovered himself\nto the crier, who conducted him to the palace. He made a profound\nobeisance to the sultan, at the same time uttering an eloquent\nprayer for his long life and prosperity. The sultan was struck\nwith his manly beauty, the gracefulness of his demeanour, and the\npropriety of his delivery, and said, \"Young stranger, who art\nthou, and from whence dost thou come?\" \"I am,\" replied the youth,\n\"the half man whom you saw, and have done what you are already\nacquainted with.\"\n\nThe sultan now requested him to sit in the most honourable place,\nand entered into conversation on various subjects. He put to him\nseveral difficult questions in science, to which the youth\nreplied with such judgment, that his abilities astonished him,\nand he said to himself, \"This young man is truly worthy of my\ndaughter.\" He then addressed him, saying, \"Young man, my wish is\nto unite thee to my daughter, for thou hast already seen her,\nalso her mother, and after what has passed no one will marry\nher.\" The youth replied, \"I am ready in obedience, but must\nadvise with my friends.\" \"Go then,\" said the sultan, \"consult\nwith thy friends, and return quickly.\"\n\nThe young man repaired to the sage, and having informed him of\nwhat had passed between himself and the sultan, signified his\nwish to marry the princess, when the shekh replied, \"Do so, my\nson; there can be in the measure no crime, as it is a lawful\nalliance.\" \"But I wish,\" said the youth, \"to invite the sultan to\nvisit you.\" \"By all means,\" answered the sage. \"My lord,\"\nrejoined the pupil, \"since I first came, and you honoured me in\nyour service, I have beheld you in no other residence but this\nconfined cell, from which you have never stirred night or day.\nHow can I invite the sultan here?\" \"My son,\" exclaimed the shekh,\n\"go to the sultan, rely upon Allah, who can work miracles in\nfavour of whom he chooseth, and say unto him, 'My patron greets\nthee, and requests thy company to an entertainment five days\nhence.'\" The youth did as he was directed, and having returned to\nhis master, waited upon him as before, but anxiously wishing for\nthe fifth day to arrive.\n\nOn the fifth day, the sage said to his impatient pupil, \"Let us\nremove to our own house, that we may prepare for the reception of\nthe sultan, whom you must conduct to me.\" They arose, and walked,\ntill on coming to a ruinous building about the middle of the\ncity, the walls of which were fallen in heaps, the shekh said,\n\"My son, this is my mansion, hasten and bring the sultan.\" The\npupil, in astonishment, exclaimed, \"My lord, this abode is a heap\nof ruins, how can I invite the sultan here, it would only\ndisgrace us?\" \"Go,\" repeated the sage, \"and dread not the\nconsequences.\" Upon this the youth departed, but as he went on\ncould not help saying to himself, \"Surely my master must be\ninsane, or means to make a jest of us.\" When he had reached the\npalace he found the sultan expecting him; upon which he made his\nobeisance, and said, \"Will my lord honour me by his company?\"\n\nThe sultan arose, mounted his horse, and attended by his whole\ncourt, followed the youth to the place chosen by the venerable\nshekh. It now appeared a royal mansion, at the gates of which\nwere ranged numerous attendants in costly habits, respectfully\nwaiting. The young man, at sight of this transformed appearance,\nwas confounded in such a manner that he could hardly retain his\nsenses. He said to himself, \"It was but this instant that I\nbeheld this place a heap of ruins, yet now it is a palace far\nmore magnificent than any belonging to this sultan. I am\nastonished, but must keep the secret to myself.\"\n\nThe sultan alighted, as did also his courtiers, and entered the\npalace. They were surprised and delighted at the splendour of the\nfirst court, but much more so at the superior magnificence of a\nsecond; into which they were ushered, and introduced into a\nspacious hall, where they found the venerable shekh sitting to\nreceive them. The sultan made a low obeisance; upon which the\nsage just moved his head, but did not rise. The sultan then sat\ndown, when the shekh greeted him, and they entered into\nconversation on various subjects; but the senses of the sultan\nwere confounded at the dignified demeanour of his host, and the\nsplendid objects around him. At length the shekh desired his\npupil to knock at a door and order breakfast to be brought in,\nwhich he did: when lo! the door opened, and there entered a\nhundred slaves, bearing upon their heads golden trays, on which\nwere placed dishes of agate, cornelian, and other stones, filled\nwith various eatables, which they arranged in order before the\nsultan. He was astonished, for he had nothing so magnificent in\nhis own possession. He then partook of the sumptuous collation,\nas did also the venerable shekh, and all the courtiers, till they\nwere satisfied; after which they drank coffee and sherbets of\nvarious sorts, when the sultan and the sage conversed on\nreligious and literary subjects, and the former was edified by\nthe remarks of the latter.\n\nWhen it was noon the shekh again desired his pupil to knock at\nanother door, and order dinner to be brought in. He had no sooner\ndone so, than immediately a hundred slaves, different from the\nformer, entered, bearing trays of the richest viands. They spread\nthe cloth before the sultan, and arranged the dishes, which were\neach thickly set with precious stones, at which he was more\nastonished than before. When all had eaten till they were\nsatisfied, basins and ewers, some of gold and others of agate,\nwere carried round, and they washed their hands; after which the\nshekh said to the sultan, \"Have you fixed what my son must give\nas the dower of your daughter?\" To this, the sultan replied, \"I\nhave already received it.\" This he said out of compliment; but\nthe shekh replied, \"My lord, the marriage cannot be valid without\na dower.\" He then presented a vast sum of money, with many\njewels, for the purpose to his pupil; after which he retired with\nthe sultan into a chamber, and arrayed him in a splendid habit;\nrich dresses were also given to each of his attendants according\nto their rank. The sultan then took leave of the shekh, and\nreturned with his intended son-in-law to the palace.\n\nWhen evening arrived the young man was introduced into the\napartment of the princess, which he found spread with the richest\ncarpets, and perfumed with costly essences, but his bride was\nabsent: at which he was somewhat surprised, but supposed her\ncoming was put off till midnight, for which he waited with\nimpatience. Midnight came, but no bride appeared; when a thousand\nuneasy sensations afflicted his mind, and he continued in\nrestless anxiety till morning: nor were the father and mother of\nthe princess less impatient; for supposing she was with her\nhusband, they waited anxiously, and were mortified at the delay.\n\nAt daylight, the mother, unable to bear longer suspense, entered\nthe chamber; when the young man, rather angrily, inquired what\nhad delayed the coming of his bride. \"She entered before thee,\"\nreplied the mother. \"I have not seen her,\" answered the\nbridegroom. Upon this the sultana shrieked with affright, calling\naloud on her daughter, for she had no other child but her. Her\ncries alarmed the sultan, who rushing into the apartment, was\ninformed that the princess was missing, and had not been seen\nsince her entrance in the evening. Search was now made in every\nquarter of the palace, but in vain; and the sultan, sultana, and\nthe bridegroom, were involved in the deepest distress.\n\nTo account for the sudden disappearance of the princess, be it\nknown, that a genie used often to divert himself with visiting\nthe haram of the sultan; and happening to be there on the\nmarriage night, was so captivated by the charms of the bride,\nthat he resolved to steal her away. Accordingly, having rendered\nhimself invisible, he waited in the nuptial chamber, and upon her\nentering bore her off, and soared into the air. At length he\nalighted with his prey in a delightful garden, far distant from\nthe city; placed the princess in a shady arbour, and set before\nher delicious fruits; but contented himself with gazing upon her\nbeauty.\n\nThe young bridegroom, when recovered from his first alarm,\nbethought himself of his tutor, and, together with the sultan,\nrepaired to the palace where the splendid entertainment had been\ngiven. Here they found every thing in the same order as on the\nday of festivity, and were kindly received by the venerable\nshekh; who on hearing of the loss of the princess, desired them\nto be comforted. He then commanded a chafing-dish of lighted\ncharcoal to be set before him, and after some moments of\ncontemplation, cast into it some perfumes, over which he\npronounced incantations. He had scarcely ended them, when lo! the\nearth shook, whirlwinds arose, lightnings flashed, and clouds of\ndust darkened the air, from which speedily descended winged\ntroops, bearing superb standards and massive spears. In the\ncentre of them appeared three sultans of the genii, who bowing\nlow before the shekh, exclaimed all at once, \"Master, hail! we\nare come to obey thy commands.\"\n\nThe shekh now addressed them, saying, \"My orders are, that you\ninstantly bring me the accursed spirit who hath carried off the\nbride of my son;\" when the genii replied, \"To hear is to obey:\"\nand immediately detached fifty of their followers to reconduct\nthe princess to her chamber, and drag the culprit to the presence\nof the sage. These commands were no sooner issued than they were\nperformed. Ten of the genii carefully conveyed the bride to her\napartment, while the rest having seized the offending genie,\ndragged him before the sage, who commanded the three sultans to\nburn him to ashes, which was executed in an instant. All this was\ndone in the presence of the sultan, who was wrapt in\nastonishment, and viewed with awe the tremendously gigantic\nfigures of the genii, wondering at the submissive readiness with\nwhich they obeyed the commands of the venerable shekh. When the\noffending genie was consumed to ashes, the shekh renewed his\nincantations; during which the sultans of the genii, with their\nfollowers, bowed themselves before him, and when he had ended,\nvanished from sight.\n\nThe sultan and the bridegroom having taken leave of the shekh,\nreturned to the palace, where all was now gladness for the safe\nreturn of the princess. The marriage was consummated, and the\nyoung man was so happy with his bride, that he did not quit the\nharam for seven days. On the eighth, the sultan ordered public\nrejoicings to be made, and invited all the inhabitants of the\ncity to feast at the royal cost; causing it to be proclaimed,\nthat no one, either rich or poor, should for three days presume\nto eat at home, light a fire, or burn a lamp in his own house,\nbut all repair to the nuptial festival of the daughter of the\nsultan. Ample provision was made for all comers in the courts of\nthe palace, and the officers of the household attended day and\nnight to serve the guests according to their quality. During one\nof the nights of this grand festival, the sultan being anxious to\nknow if his proclamation was generally obeyed, resolved to walk\nthrough the city in disguise. Accordingly he and his vizier, in\nthe habit of dervishes of Persia, having quitted the palace\nprivately, began their excursion, and narrowly examined several\nstreets. At length they came to a close alley, in one of the\nhouses of which they perceived a light, and heard the sound of\nvoices. When they had reached the door, they heard a person say\nto another, \"Our sultan understands not how to treat properly,\nnor is he liberal, since the poor have it not in their option to\npartake of the costly feast he has prepared for his daughter's\nnuptials. He should have distributed his bounty among the\nwretched, who dare not presume to enter the palace in their\nragged garments, by sending it to their home.\"\n\nThe sultan, upon hearing this, said to the vizier, \"We must enter\nthis house;\" and knocked at the door, when a person cried out,\n\"Who is there?\" \"Guests,\" replied the sultan. \"You shall be\nwelcome to what we have,\" answered the person, and opened the\ndoor. On entering, the sultan beheld three mean-looking old men,\none of whom was lame, the second broken-backed, and the third\nwry-mouthed. He then inquired the cause of their misfortunes; to\nwhich they answered, \"Our infirmities proceeded from the weakness\nof our understandings.\" The sultan upon this replied in a whisper\nto his vizier, that at the conclusion of the festival he should\nbring the three men to his presence, in order that he might learn\ntheir adventures.\n\nWhen they had tasted of their homely fare, the sultan and vizier\nrose up, and having presented the three maimed companions with a\nfew deenars, took leave and departed. They strolled onwards. It\nwas now near midnight when they reached a house in which, through\na lattice, they could perceive three girls with their mother\neating a slender meal; during which, at intervals, one of them\nsung, and the other two laughed and talked. The sultan resolved\nto enter the house, and commanded the vizier to knock at the\ndoor, which he did; when one of the sisters cried out, \"Who\nknocks at our door at this advanced time of night?\" \"We are two\nforeign dervishes,\" replied the vizier; to which the ladies\nanswered, \"We are women of virtue, and have no men in our house\nto whom you can be introduced: repair to the festival of the\nsultan, who will entertain you!\" \"Alas!\" continued the vizier,\n\"we are strangers unacquainted with the way to the palace, and\ndread lest the magistrate of the police should meet and apprehend\nus. We beg that you will afford us lodging till daylight: we will\nthen depart, and you need not apprehend from us any improper\nbehaviour.\"\n\nWhen the mother of the ladies heard this she pitied the\nstrangers, and commanded them to open the door: upon which the\nsultan and vizier having entered, paid their respects and sat\ndown; but the former, on observing the beauty of the sisters and\ntheir elegant demeanour, could not contain himself, and said,\n\"How comes it that you dwell by yourselves, have no husbands or\nany male to protect you?\" The younger sister replied,\n\"Impertinent dervish, withhold thy inquiries! our story is\nsurprising; but unless thou wert sultan, and thy companion\nvizier, you could not appreciate our adventures.\" The sultan upon\nthis remark became silent on the subject, and they discoursed\nupon indifferent matters till near daylight, when the pretended\ndervishes took a respectful leave, and departed. At the door the\nsultan commanded the vizier to mark it, so that he might know it\nagain, being resolved, when the nuptial festivities should be\nconcluded, to send for the ladies and hear their story.\n\nOn the last evening of the festival the sultan bestowed dresses\nof honour on all his courtiers; and on the following day, affairs\nreturning to their usual course, he commanded his vizier to bring\nbefore him the three maimed men, and ordered them to relate the\ncause of their misfortunes, which they did as follows.\n\n\n\n\n               Story of the Broken-backed Schoolmaster.\n\n\n\nFormerly, O mighty sultan, was a schoolmaster, and had under my\ntuition nearly seventy scholars, of whose manners I was as\ncareful as of their learning: so much did I make them respect me,\nthat whenever I sneezed they laid down their writing boards,\nstood up with arms crossed, and with one voice exclaimed, \"God\nhave mercy upon our tutor!\" to which I replied, \"May he have\nmercy upon me and you, and all who have children.\" If any one of\nthe boys did not join in this prayer, I used to beat him\nseverely. One fine afternoon my scholars requested leave to visit\na certain garden some distance from the town, which I granted;\nand they clubbed their pittances to purchase sweetmeats and\nfruits. I attended them on this excursion, and was as much\ndelighted as themselves with the pleasure they enjoyed, and their\nchildish gambols. When evening approached we returned homewards,\nand on the way, my boys having fatigued themselves with play, as\nwell as eaten much sweets and fruit, were seized with extreme\nthirst, of which they heavily complained. At length we reached a\ndraw-well, but, alas! it had no bucket or cord. I pitied their\nsituation, and resolved, if possible, to relieve them. I\nrequested them to give me their turbans, which I tied to each\nother; but as they were altogether not long enough to reach the\nwater, I fixed one of the turbans round my body, and made them\nlet one down into the well, where I filled a small cup I had with\nme, which they drew up repeatedly till their thirst was\nsatisfied. I then desired them to draw me up again, which they\nattempted; and I had reached nearly the mouth of the well, when I\nwas unfortunately seized with a fit of sneezing; upon which the\nboys mechanically, as they had been accustomed to do in school,\none and all let go their hold, crossed their arms, and exclaimed,\n\"God have mercy upon our venerable tutor!\" while I tumbled at\nonce to the bottom of the well, and broke my back. I cried out\nfrom the agony of pain, and the children ran on all sides for\nhelp. At length some charitable passengers drew me out, and\nplacing me upon an ass, carried me home; where I languished for a\nconsiderable time, and never could recover my health sufficiently\nagain to attend to my school. Thus did I suffer for my foolish\npride: for had I not been so tenacious of respect from my\nscholars, they would not upon my sneezing have let go their hold\nand broken my back.\n\nWhen the broken-backed schoolmaster had finished his story, the\nold man with the wry-mouth thus began:\n\n\n\n\n             Story of the Wry-mouthed Schoolmaster.\n\n\n\nI also, O sultan, was a schoolmaster; and so strict with my\npupils, that I allowed them no indulgence, but even kept them to\ntheir studies frequently after the usual hours. At length, one\nmore cunning than the rest resolved, in revenge, to play me a\ntrick. He instructed the lads as they came into school to say to\nme, \"Dear master, how pale you look!\" Not feeling myself ill, I,\nthough surprised at their remarks, did not much regard them on\nthe first day; but a second, and so on to a fifth passing, on\neach of which all the pupils on entrance uttered the same\nexclamation, I began to think some fatal disorder had seized me,\nand resolved, by way of prevention, to take physic. I did so the\nfollowing morning, and remained in my wife's apartments; upon\nwhich the unlucky lads, clubbing their pittances together to the\namount of about a hundred faloose, requested my acceptance of the\nmoney as an offering for my recovery; and I was so pleased with\nthe present that I gave them a holiday. The receipt of cash in so\neasy a manner was so agreeable to me, that I feigned illness for\nsome days; my pupils made an offering as usual, and were allowed\nto play. On the tenth day the cunning urchin who had planned the\nscheme came into my chamber, as customary, with an offering of\nfaloose. I happened then to have before me a boiled egg, which,\nupon seeing him enter, I clapped into my mouth, supposing, that\nif he perceived me well enough to eat he might not give me the\nmoney. He, however, observed the trick, and coming up to me with\naffected condolence, exclaimed, \"Dear master, how your cheeks are\nswelled!\" at the same time pressing his hands upon my face. The\negg was boiling hot, and gave me intolerable pain, while the\nyoung wit pretended compassionately to stroke my visage. At\nlength, he pressed my jaws together so hard that the egg broke,\nwhen the scalding yolk ran down my throat, and over my beard:\nupon which the artful lad cried out in seeming joy, \"God be\npraised, my dear master, that the dreadful imposthume has\ndischarged itself; we, your pupils, will all return thanks for\nyour happy recovery.\" My mouth was contracted by the scald in the\nmanner you behold, and I became so ridiculed for my folly, that I\nwas obliged to shut up my school.\n\nThe sultan having heard the other man's story, which was of but\nlittle interest, dismissed the three foolish schoolmasters with a\npresent, commanded the vizier to go and recognize the house of\nthe three ladies and their mother, it being his intention to\nvisit them again in disguise and hear their adventures. The\nvizier hastened to the street, but to his surprise and\nmortification found all the houses marked in the same manner, for\nthe youngest sister having overheard the sultan's instructions,\nhad done this to prevent a discovery of their residence. The\nvizier returned to the sultan, and informed him of the trick\nwhich had been played. He was much vexed, but the circumstance\nexcited his curiosity in a greater degree. At length the vizier\nbethought himself of a stratagem, and said, \"My lord, let a\nproclamation be issued for four days successively throughout the\ncity, that whoever presumes after the first watch of the night to\nhave a lamp lighted in his house, shall have his head struck off,\nhis goods confiscated, his house razed to the ground, and his\nwomen dishonoured. It is possible, as these ladies did not regard\nyour proclamation at the nuptials of the princess, they may\ndisobey this, and by that means we may discover their residence.\"\n\nThe sultan approved the contrivance of the vizier, caused the\nproclamation to be made, and waited impatiently for the fourth\nnight, when he and his minister having disguised themselves as\nbefore, proceeded to the street in which the ladies lived. A\nlight appeared only in one house, which it being now tolerably\ncertain was that they were in quest of, they knocked at the door.\n\nImmediately on their knocking the youngest sister called out,\n\"Who is at the door?\" and they replied, \"We are dervishes, and\nentreat to be your guests.\" She exclaimed, \"What can you want at\nsuch a late hour, and where did you lodge last night?\" They\nanswered, \"Our quarters are at a certain serai, but we have lost\nour way, and are fearful of being apprehended by the officers of\npolice. Let your kindness then induce you to open the door, and\nafford us shelter for the remainder of the night: it will be a\nmeritorious act in the eye of heaven.\" The mother overhearing\nwhat was said, ordered the door to be opened.\n\nWhen they were admitted, the old lady and her daughters rose up,\nreceived them respectfully, and having seated them, placed\nrefreshments before them, of which they partook, and were\ndelighted with their treatment. At length the sultan said,\n\"Daughters, you cannot but know of the royal proclamation; how\ncomes it that you alone of all the inhabitants of the city have\ndisobeyed it by having lights in your house after the first watch\nof the night?\" Upon this the youngest sister replied, \"Good\ndervish, even the sultan should not be obeyed but in his\nreasonable commands, and as this proclamation against lighting\nour lamps is tyrannical, it ought not to be complied with,\nconsistently with the law of scripture; for the Koraun says,\n'Obedience to a creature in a criminal matter, is a sin against\nthe Creator.' The sultan (may God pardon him!) acts against\nscripture, and obeys the dictates of Satan. We three sisters,\nwith our good mother, make it a rule to spin every night a\ncertain quantity of cotton, which in the morning we dispose of,\nand of the price of our labour we lay out a part in provisions,\nand the remainder in a new supply of materials for working to\nprocure us a subsistence.\"\n\nThe sultan now whispered to his vizier, saying, \"This damsel\nastonishes me by her answers; endeavour to think of some question\nthat may perplex her.\" \"My lord,\" replied the vizier, \"we are\nhere in the characters of strangers and dervishes as their\nguests: how then can we presume to disturb them by improper\nquestions?\" The sultan still insisted upon his addressing them:\nupon which, the vizier said to the ladies, \"Obedience to the\nsultan's orders is incumbent upon all subjects.\" \"It is true he\nis our sovereign,\" exclaimed the youngest sister, \"but how can he\nknow whether we are starving or in affluence?\" \"Suppose,\" replied\nthe vizier, \"he should send for you to the presence, and question\nyou concerning your disobedience to his commands, what could you\nadvance in excuse for yourselves?\" \"I would say to the sultan,\"\nrejoined she, \"'Your majesty has acted in contradiction to the\ndivine law.'\"\n\nThe vizier upon this turned towards the sultan, and said in a\nwhisper, \"Let us leave off disputing further with this lady on\npoints of law or conscience, and inquire if she understands the\nfine arts.\" The sultan put the question; upon which she replied,\n\"I am perfect in all:\" and he then requested her to play and\nsing. She retired immediately, but soon returning with a lute,\nsat down, tuned it, and played in a plaintive strain, which she\naccompanied with the following verses:\n\n\"It is praiseworthy in subjects to obey their sovereigns, but his\nreign will continue long who gains their affections by kindness.\nBe liberal in thy manners, and he who is dependent upon thee will\npray for thy life, for the free man alone can feel gratitude. To\nhim who confers gifts man will ever resort, for bounty is\nfascinating. Sadden not with denial the countenance of the man of\ngenius, for the liberal mind is disgusted at stinginess and\nhaughty demeanour. Not a tenth part of mankind understand what is\nright, for human nature is ignorant, rebellious, and ungrateful.\"\n\nWhen the sultan had heard these verses, he remained for some time\nimmersed in thought; then whispering his vizier, said, \"This\nquotation was certainly meant in allusion to ourselves, and I am\nconvinced they must know that I am their sultan, and thou vizier,\nfor the whole tenor of their conversation shews their knowledge\nof us.\" He then addressed the lady, saying, \"Your music, your\nperformance, your voice, and the subject of your stanzas have\ndelighted me beyond expression.\" Upon this she sang the following\nverse:\n\n\"Men endeavour to attain station and riches during an age of toil\nand oppression, while, alas! their accounts to heaven and their\ngraves are decreed from their very birth.\"\n\nThe sultan, from the purport of these last verses, was more\nassured than ever that she knew his quality. She did not leave\noff singing and playing till day-light, when she retired, and\nbrought in a breakfast, of which the sultan and the vizier\npartook; after which she said, \"I hope you will return to us this\nnight at the conclusion of the first watch, and be our guests.\"\nThe sultan promised, and departed in admiration at the beauty of\nthe sisters, their accomplishments, and graceful manners; saying\nto the vizier, \"My soul is delighted with the charms of these\nelegant women.\"\n\nThe following evening the sultan and vizier, disguised as usual,\nrepaired to the house of the sisters, taking with them some\npurses of deenars, and were received with the same respectful\nwelcome. Being seated, supper was set before them, and after it\nbasins and ewers to wash their hands. Coffee was then served up,\nand conversation on various subjects amused them till the prayer\ntime of the first watch; they then arose, performed their\nablutions, and prayed. When, their devotions were ended, the\nsultan presented a purse of a thousand deenars to the youngest\nsister, and said, \"Expend this upon your necessary occasions.\"\nShe took the purse with a profound obeisance, kissed his hands,\nand was convinced, as she had before suspected, that he must be\nthe sultan; at the same time hinting privately to her mother and\nsisters the quality of their guests, and prostrating herself\nbefore him.\n\nThe other ladies upon this arose, and followed the example of\ntheir sister; when the sultan said aside to his vizier, \"They\ncertainly know us:\" and then turning to the ladies, addressed\nthem saying, \"We are merely dervishes, and you pay us a respect\nonly due to sovereigns; I beseech you refrain.\" The youngest\nsister again fell at his feet, and repeated the following verse:\n\n\"May prosperous fortune daily accompany thee in spite of the\nmalice of the envious! May thy days be bright and those of thy\nenemies gloomy!\"\n\n\"I am convinced thou art the sultan, and thy companion thy\nvizier.\" The sultan replied, \"What reason have you for such a\nsupposition?\" She answered, \"From your dignified demeanour and\nliberal conduct, for the signs of royalty cannot be concealed\neven in the habit of a recluse.\"\n\nThe sultan replied, \"You have indeed judged truly, but inform me\nhow happens it, that you have with you no male protectors?\" She\nanswered, \"My lord the sultan, our history is so wonderful, that\nwere it written on a tablet of adamant it might serve as an\nexample in future ages to such as would be advised.\" The sultan\nrequested her to relate it, which she did in the following\nmanner.\n\n\n\n\n         Story of the Sisters and the Sultana their Mother.\n\n\n\nWe are not, my lord the sultan, natives of this city, but of\nEerauk, of which country our father was sovereign, and our mother\nhis sultana the most beautiful woman of her time, insomuch that\nher fame was celebrated throughout distant regions. It chanced\nthat in our infancy our father the sultan marched upon a hunting\nexcursion throughout his dominions, for some months, leaving his\nvizier to conduct affairs at the capital. Not long after the\ndeparture of the sultan, our mother, taking the air on the roof\nof the palace, which adjoined that of the vizier, who was then\nsitting upon his terrace, her image was reflected in a mirror\nwhich he held in his hand. He was fascinated with her beauty, and\nresolved, if possible, to seduce her to infidelity and compliance\nwith his wishes.\n\nThe day following he sent the female superintendant of his haram\nwith a package, containing a most superb dress, and many\ninestimable jewels, to the sultana, requesting her acceptance of\nthem, and that she would allow him to see her either at the\npalace or at his own house. My mother, when the old woman was\nadmitted into her apartments, received her with kindness,\nsupposing that she must be intrusted with some confidential\nmessage from the vizier respecting the affairs of her husband, or\nwith letters from him.\n\nThe old woman having paid her obeisance, opened the bundle, and\ndisplayed the rich dress and dazzling jewels; when my mother,\nadmiring them much, inquired the value, and what merchant had\nbrought them to dispose of. The wretched old woman, supposing\nthat the virtue of the sultana would not be proof against such a\nvaluable present, impudently disclosed the passion of the vizier:\nupon which my mother, indignant with rage at this insult offered\nto her virtue and dignity, drew a sabre, which was near, and\nexerting all her strength, struck off the head of the procuress,\nwhich, with the body, she commanded her attendants to cast into\nthe common sewer of the palace.\n\nThe vizier finding his messenger did not return, the next day\ndespatched another, to signify that he had sent a present to the\nsultana, but had not heard whether it had been delivered. My\nmother commanded the infamous wretch to be strangled, and the\ncorpse to be thrown into the same place as that of the old woman,\nbut she did not make public the vizier's baseness, hoping that he\nwould reform. He, however, continued every day to send a female\ndomestic, and my mother to treat her in the same way as the\nothers till the sultan's return; but my mother, not wishing to\ndestroy the vizier, and still trusting that he would repent of\nhis conduct, for in other respects he was a faithful and prudent\nminister, kept his treachery a secret from my father.\n\nSome years after this, the sultan my father resolved on a\npilgrimage to Mecca, and having, as before, left the vizier in\ncharge of his kingdom, departed. When he had been gone ten days,\nthe vizier, still rapturously in love, and yet presumtuously\nhoping to attain his wishes, sent a female domestic, who, being\nadmitted into the apartment of the sultana, said, \"For Heaven's\nsake have compassion on my master, for his heart is devoted to\nlove, his senses are disturbed, and his body is wasted away. Pity\nhis condition, revive his heart, and restore his health by the\nsmiles of condescension.\"\n\nWhen my mother heard this insolent message, she in a rage\ncommanded her attendants to seize the unfortunate bearer, and\nhaving strangled her, to leave the carcase for public view in the\nouter court of the palace, but without divulging the cause of her\ndispleasure. Her orders were obeyed. When the officers of state\nand others saw the body they informed the vizier, who, resolving\nto be revenged, desired them for the present to be silent, and on\nthe sultan's return he would make known on what account the\nsultana had put to death his domestic, of which they could bear\ntestimony.\n\nWhen the time of the sultan's return from Mecca approached, and\nthe treacherous vizier judged he was on his march, he wrote and\ndespatched to him the following letter:\n\n\"After prayers for thy health, be it known, that since thy\nabsence the sultana has sent to me five times, requesting\nimproper compliances, to which I would not consent, and returned\nfor answer, that however she might wish to abuse my sovereign, I\ncould not do it, for I was left by him guardian of his honour and\nhis kingdom: to say more would be superfluous.\"\n\nThe messenger reached the sultan's camp when distant eight days'\njourney from the city, and delivered the letter. On reading it\nthe countenance of my father became pale, his eyes rolled with\nhorror, he instantly ordered his tents to be struck, and moved by\nforced marches till he arrived within two days' journey of his\ncapital. He then commanded a halting day, and despatched two\nconfidential attendants with orders to conduct our innocent and\nunfortunate mother, with us three sisters, a day's distance from\nthe city, and then to put us to death. They accordingly dragged\nus from the haram, and carried us into the country; but on\narriving at the spot intended for our execution, their hearts\nwere moved with compassion, for our mother had conferred many\nobligations on these men and their families. They said one to\nanother, \"By heavens, we cannot murder them!\" and informed us of\nwhat the vizier had written to our father: upon which the sultana\nexclaimed, \"God knows that he hath most falsely accused me;\" and\nshe then related to them all that she had done, with the\nstrictest fidelity.\n\nThe men were moved even to tears at her misfortunes, and said,\n\"We are convinced that thou hast spoken truly.\" They then caught\nsome fawns of the antelope, killed them, and having required an\nunder garment from each of us, dipped it in the blood, after\nwhich they broiled the flesh, with which we satisfied our hunger.\nOur preservers now bade us farewell, saying, \"We intrust you to\nthe protection of the Almighty, who never forsaketh those who are\ncommitted to his care;\" and then departed from us. We wandered\nfor ten days in the desert, living on such fruits as we could\nfind, without beholding any signs of population, when, at length,\nfortunately we reached a verdant spot, abounding in various sorts\nof excellent vegetables and fruits. Here also was a cave, in\nwhich we resolved to shelter ourselves till a caravan might pass\nby. On the fourth day of our arrival one encamped near our\nasylum. We did not discover ourselves, but when the caravan\nmarched, speedily followed its track at some distance, and after\nmany days of painful exertion reached this city, where, having\ntaken up our lodging in a serai, we returned thanks to the\nalmighty assister of the distressed innocent for our miraculous\nescape from death and the perils of the desert.\n\nWe must now quit for awhile the unfortunate sultana and her\ndaughters, to learn the adventures of the sultan her husband. As\nhe drew near his capital, the treacherous vizier, attended by the\nofficers of government and the principal inhabitants of the city,\ncame out to meet him; and both high and low congratulated his\nsafe return from the sacred pilgrimage.\n\nThe sultan, as soon as he had alighted at his palace, retired\nwith the vizier alone, and commanded him to relate the\nparticulars of the atrocious conduct of his wife; upon which he\nsaid, \"My lord, the sultana in your absence despatched to me a\nslave, desiring me to visit her, but I would not, and I put the\nslave to death that the secret might be hidden; hoping she might\nrepent of her weakness, but she did not, and repeated her wicked\ninvitation five times. On the fifth I was alarmed for your\nhonour, and acquainted you of her atrocious behaviour.\"\n\nThe sultan, on hearing the relation of the vizier, held down his\nhead for some time in profound thought, then lifting it up,\ncommanded the two attendants whom he had despatched with orders\nto put his wife and children to death to be brought before him.\nOn their appearance, he said, \"What have you done in execution of\nthe charge I gave you?\" they replied, \"We have performed that\nwhich you commanded to be done, and as a testimony of our\nfidelity, behold these garments dyed with the blood of the\noffenders!\" The sultan took the garments; but the recollection of\nhis beauteous consort, her former affectionate endearments, of\nthe happiness he had enjoyed with her, and of the innocence of\nhis guiltless children, so affected his mind, that he wept\nbitterly and fainted away. On his recovery he turned to the\nvizier, and said, \"Is it possible thou canst have spoken the\ntruth?\" He replied, \"I have.\"\n\nThe sultan, after a long pause, again said to the two attendants,\n\"Have you really put to death my innocent children with their\nguilty mother?\" They remained silent. The sultan exclaimed, \"Why\nanswer ye not, and wherefore are ye silent?\" They replied, \"My\nlord, the honest man cannot support a lie, for lying is the\ndistinction of traitors.\" When the vizier heard these words his\ncolour changed, his whole frame was disordered, and a trembling\nseized him, which the sultan perceiving, he said to the\nattendants, \"What mean you by remarking that lying is the\ndistinction of traitors? Is it possible that ye have not put them\nto death? Declare the truth instantly, or by the God who hath\nappointed me guardian of his people, I will have you executed\nwith the most excruciating torments.\"\n\nThe two men now fell at the feet of the sultan, and said, \"Dread\nsovereign, we conveyed, as thou commandest us, the unfortunate\nsultana and thy daughters to the middle of the desert, when we\ninformed them of the accusation of the vizier and thy orders\nconcerning them. The sultana, after listening to us with\nfortitude, exclaimed, 'There is no refuge or asylum but with the\nAlmighty; from God we came, and to God we must return; but if you\nput us to death, you will do it wrongfully, for the treacherous\nvizier hath accused me falsely, and he alone is guilty.' She then\ninformed us of his having endeavoured to corrupt her by rich\npresents, and that she had put his messengers to death.\"\n\nThe sultan at these words exclaimed in agony, \"Have ye slain\nthem, or do they yet live?\" \"My lord,\" replied the attendants,\n\"We were so convinced of the innocence of the sultana, that we\ncould not put her to death. We caught some fawn antelopes, killed\nthem, and having dipped these garments belonging to the abused\nmother and your children in their blood, dressed the flesh, and\ngave it to our unfortunate mistress and thy daughters, after\nwhich we said to them, 'We leave you in charge of a gracious God\nwho never deserts his trust; your innocence will protect you.' We\nthen left them in the midst of the desert, and returned to the\ncity.\"\n\nThe sultan turned in fury towards the vizier, and exclaimed,\n\"Wretched traitor! and is it thus thou hast estranged from me my\nbeloved wife and innocent children?\" The self-convicted minister\nuttered not a word, but trembled like one afflicted with the\npalsy. The sultan commanded instantly an enormous pile of wood to\nbe kindled, and the vizier, being bound hand and foot, was forced\ninto an engine, and cast from it into the fire, which rapidly\nconsumed him to ashes. His house was then razed to the ground,\nhis effects left to the plunder of the populace, and the women of\nhis haram and his children sold for slaves.\n\nWe now return to the three princesses and their mother. When the\nsultan had heard their adventures, he sympathized with their\nmisfortunes, and was astonished at the fortitude with which they\nhad borne their afflictions, saying to his vizier, \"How sad has\nbeen their lot! but blessed be Allah, who, as he separateth\nfriends, can, when he pleaseth, give them a joyful meeting.\" He\nthen caused the sultana and the princesses to be conveyed to his\npalace, appointed them proper attendants and apartments suitable\nto their rank, and despatched couriers to inform the sultan their\nfather of their safety. The messengers travelled with the\ngreatest expedition, and on their arrival at the capital, being\nintroduced, presented their despatches. The sultan opened them,\nand began to read; but when he perceived the contents, was so\novercome with joy, that, uttering a loud exclamation of rapture,\nhe fell to the ground and fainted away. His attendants were\nalarmed, lifted him up, and took means for his recovery. When he\nwas revived, he informed them of his sultana and daughters being\nstill alive, and ordered a vessel to be prepared to convey them\nhome.\n\nThe ship was soon ready, and being laden with every necessary for\nthe accommodation of his family, also rich presents for the\nfriendly sultan who had afforded them protection, sailed with a\nfavourable wind, and speedily arrived at the desired haven.\n\nThe commander of the vessel was welcomely received by the sultan,\nwho issued orders for his entertainment and that of his whole\ncrew at the royal cost, and at the expiration of three days the\nsultana and her daughters, being anxious to return home after so\nlong an absence, and that so unfortunate, took leave and\nembarked. The sultan made them valuable presents, and the wind\nbeing fair they set sail. For three days the weather was\npropitious, but on the evening of the last a contrary gale arose,\nwhen they cast anchor, and lowered their topmasts. At length the\nstorm increased to such violence that the anchor parted, the\nmasts fell overboard, and the crew gave themselves over for lost.\nThe vessel was driven about at the mercy of the tempest till\nmidnight, all on board weeping and wailing, when at length she\nstruck upon the rocks, and went to pieces. Such of the crew whose\ndeaths were decreed perished, and those whose longer life was\npredestined escaped to shore, some on planks, some on chests, and\nsome on the broken timbers of the ship, but all separated from\neach other.\n\nThe sultana mother was tossed about till daylight on a plank,\nwhen she was perceived by the commander of the vessel, who with\nthree of his crew had taken to the ship's boat. He took her in,\nand after three days' rowing they reached a mountainous coast, on\nwhich they landed, and advanced into the country. They had not\nproceeded far when they perceived a great dust, which clearing\nup, displayed an approaching army. To their joyful surprise it\nproved to be that of the sultan, who, after the departure of the\nvessel, dreading lest an accident might happen, had marched in\nhopes of reaching the city where they were before his wife and\ndaughters should sail, in order to conduct them home by land. It\nis impossible to describe the meeting of the sultan and his\nconsort, but their joy was clouded by the absence of their\ndaughters, and the dreadful uncertainty of their fate. When the\nfirst raptures of meeting were over, they wept together, and\nexclaimed, \"We are from God, and to God we must return.\" After\nforty days' march they arrived at their capital, but continually\nregretting the princesses, saying, \"Alas, alas! most probably\nthey have been drowned, but even should they have escaped to\nshore, perhaps they may have been separated; and ah! what\ncalamities may have befallen them!\" Constantly did they bemoan\ntogether in this manner, immersed in grief, and taking no\npleasure in the enjoyments of life.\n\nThe youngest princess, after struggling with the waves till\nalmost exhausted, was fortunately cast ashore on a pleasant\ncoast, where she found some excellent fruits and clear fresh\nwater. Being revived, she reposed herself awhile, and then walked\nfrom the beach into the country; but she had not proceeded far,\nwhen a young man on horseback with some dogs following him met\nher, and upon hearing that she had just escaped shipwreck,\nmounted her before him, and having conveyed her to his house,\ncommitted her to the care of his mother. She received her with\ncompassionate kindness, and during a whole month assiduously\nattended her, till by degrees she recovered her health and\nbeauty.\n\nThe young man was legal heir to the kingdom, but his succession\nhad been wrested from him by a usurper, who, however, dying soon\nafter the arrival of the princess, he was reinstated in his\nrights and placed on the throne, when he offered her his hand;\nbut she said, \"How can I think of marriage while I know not the\ncondition of my unfortunate family, or enjoy repose while my\nmother and sisters are perhaps suffering misery? When I have\nintelligence of their welfare I will be grateful to my\ndeliverer.\"\n\nThe young sultan was so much in love with the princess, that the\nmost distant hope gave him comfort, and he endeavoured to wait\npatiently her pleasure; but the nobles of the country were\nanxious to see him wedded, he being the last of his race, and\nimportuned him to marry. He promised to conform to their wishes,\nbut much time elapsing, they became importunate and discontented,\nwhen his mother, dreading a rebellion, earnestly entreated the\nprincess to consent to a union as the only measure that could\nprevent disturbances. The princess, who really loved her\npreserver, was unwilling to endanger the safety of one to whom\nshe owed such important obligations, and at length consented,\nwhen the marriage was celebrated with the greatest pomp and\nrejoicings. At the expiration of three years the sultana was\ndelivered of two sons, whose birth added to the felicity of the\nunion.\n\nThe second princess, after being long driven about by the waves\nupon a plank, was at length cast on shore near a large city,\nwhich she entered, and was fortunately compassionated by a\nvenerable matron, who invited her to her house, and adopted her\nas a daughter in the room of her own, who had lately died. Here\nshe soon recovered her health and beauty. It chanced that the\nsultan of this city, who was much beloved for his gentle\ngovernment and liberality, was taken ill, and not withstanding\nthe skill of the most celebrated physicians, daily became worse,\ninsomuch that his life was despaired of, to the general grief of\nthe people. The princess having heard her venerable protectress\nlament the danger of the sultan, said, \"My dear mother, I will\nprepare a dish of pottage, which, if you will carry to the\nsultan, and he can be prevailed upon to eat it, will, by the\nblessing of Allah, recover him from his disorder.\" \"I fear,\"\nreplied the matron, \"I shall hardly be allowed admittance to the\npalace, much less to present him the pottage.\" \"You can but try,\"\nanswered the princess; \"and even the attempt at a good action is\nacceptable to God.\" \"Well,\" rejoined the old woman,  \"prepare your\npottage, my dear daughter, and I will endeavour to get\nadmission.\"\n\nThe princess prepared the dish of pottage, composed of various\nminerals, herbs, and perfumes, and when it was ready the old\nwoman took it to the sultan's palace. The guards and eunuchs\ninquired what she had brought, when she said, \"A dish of pottage,\nwhich I request you will present to the sultan, and beg him to\neat as much of it as he can, for by God's help it will restore\nhim to health.\" The eunuchs introduced her into the chamber of\ntheir sick sovereign, when the old woman taking off the cover of\nthe dish, such a grateful perfume exhaled from the contents as\nrevived his spirits. Being informed what the venerable matron had\nbrought, he thanked her and tasted the pottage, which was so\nagreeably flavoured that he ate part of it with an appetite to\nwhich he had been long a stranger. He then presented the bearer\nwith a purse of deenars, when she returned home, informed the\nprincess of her welcome reception, and of the present she had\nreceived.\n\nThe sultan had no sooner eaten part of the pottage than he felt\nan inclination to repose, and sunk into a refreshing sleep, which\nlasted for some hours. On his awakening he found himself\nwonderfully revived, and having a desire afresh to eat, finished\nthe whole. He now wished for more, and inquired after the old\nwoman, but none of his attendants could inform him where she\nlived. However, in the evening she brought another mess, which\nthe princess had prepared, and the sultan ate it with renewed\nappetite; after which, though before quite helpless, he was now\nable to sit up and even to walk. He inquired of the old woman if\nit was her own preparation; to which she replied, \"No, my lord,\nbut my daughter dressed it, and entreated me to bring it.\" The\nsultan exclaimed, \"She cannot be thy own daughter, as her skill\nshews her of much higher quality.\" He then made her a present,\nand requested that she would bring him every morning a fresh\nsupply, to which she said, \"To hear is to obey;\" and retired.\n\nThe princess sent regularly for seven mornings successively a\ndish of pottage, and the sultan as regularly presented her\nadopted mother with a purse of deenars; for such was the rapidity\nof his recovery, that at the expiration of the sixth day he was\nperfectly well, and on the seventh he mounted his horse and\nrepaired to his country palace to make the absolution of health\nand enjoy the fresh air. During her visits he had questioned the\nold lady concerning her adopted daughter, and she so described\nher beauty, virtues, and accomplishments, that his heart was\nsmitten, and he became anxious to see her.\n\nThe sultan, in order to gratify his curiosity, disguised himself\none day in the habit of a dervish, and repairing to the house of\nthe old woman, knocked at the door. On being questioned what he\nwanted, he replied, \"I am a wandering dervish, a stranger in this\ncity, and distressed with hunger.\" The old woman being fearful of\nadmitting an unknown person, would have sent him away, but the\nprincess exclaimed, \"Hospitality to strangers is incumbent upon\nus, especially to the religious poor.\" Upon this he was admitted,\nand the princess having seated him respectfully, set victuals\nbefore him, of which he ate till he was satisfied, and having\nwashed, rose up, thanked the old woman and her supposed daughter\nfor their bounty, and retired, but his sight was fascinated with\nher beauty, and his heart devoted to her love.\n\nThe sultan on his return to the palace sent for the old woman,\nand on her arrival presented her with a rich dress and valuable\njewels, desiring that she would give them to her daughter, and\nprevail upon her to put them on. The old lady promised obedience,\nand as she walked homewards, said to herself, \"If this adopted\ndaughter of mine is wise, she will comply with the sultan's\ndesires, and put on the dress, but if she does not, I will expel\nher from my house.\" When she reached home, she displayed the\nsuperb habit and the dazzling ornaments; but the princess at\nfirst refused to accept them, till at length, moved by the\nentreaties of her protectress, whom she could not disoblige, she\nput them on, and the old lady was delighted with her appearance.\n\nThe sultan, who had slipped on a female dress, having covered\nhimself with a close veil, followed the old woman to her house,\nand listened at the door to know if the daughter would accept his\npresent. When he found that she had put on the dress, he was\novercome with rapture, and hastening back to his palace, sent\nagain for the old lady, to whom he signified his wish to marry\nher daughter. When the princess was informed of the offer she\nconsented, and the sultan, attended by a splendid cavalcade,\nconducted her that evening to his palace, where the cauzee united\nthem in marriage. A general feast was made for all the\ninhabitants of the city for seven days successively, and the\nsultan and the princess enjoyed the height of felicity. In the\ncourse of five years the Almighty blessed them with a son and two\ndaughters.\n\nThe eldest princess on the wreck of the ship having clung to a\npiece of timber, was after much distress floated on shore, where\nshe found a man's habit, and thinking it a safe disguise for the\nprotection of her honour, she dressed herself in it, and\nproceeded to a city which appeared near the coast. On her\nentrance she was accosted by a maker of cotton wallets for\ntravelling, who observing that she was a stranger, and supposing\nher a man, asked if she would live with him, as he wanted an\nassistant. Being glad to secure any asylum, she accepted his\noffer of maintenance, and daily wages of half a dirhem. He\nconducted her to his house, and treated her with kindness. The\nnext day she entered upon her business, and so neat was the work\nshe executed, that in a short time her master's shop was more\nfrequented than any other.\n\nIt happened that the shop was situated near the palace of the\nsultan. One morning the princess his daughter looking through the\nlattice of a balcony beheld the seeming young man at work, with\nthe sleeves of his vest drawn up to his shoulder: his arms were\nwhite and polished as silver, and his countenance brilliant as\nthe sun unobscured by clouds. The daughter of the sultan was\ncaptivated in the snare of love.\n\nThe sultan's daughter continued gazing at the supposed young man\ntill he withdrew from work, when she retired to her apartment;\nbut so much was she fascinated by his charms, that she became\nrestless, and at length indisposed. Her nurse who attended her\nfelt her pulse, and asked her several questions, but could find\nno symptoms of bodily illness upon her. She said, \"My dear\ndaughter, I am convinced that nothing has afflicted thee but\ndesire of some youth with whom thou art in love.\" The princess\nexclaimed, \"My dear mother, as thou hast discovered my secret,\nthou wilt, I trust, not only keep it sacred, but bring to me the\nman I love.\" The nurse replied, \"No one can keep a secret closer\nthan myself, so that you may safely confide it to my care.\" The\nprincess then said, \"Mother, my heart is captivated by the young\nman who works in the shop opposite my windows, and if I cannot\nmeet him I shall die of grief.\"\n\nThe nurse replied, \"My dear mistress, he is the most beautiful\nyouth of the age, and the women of the whole city are distracted\nwith his charms; yet he is so bashful as to answer no advances,\nand shrinks from notice like a school-boy, but I will endeavour\nto overcome his shyness, and procure you a meeting.\" Having said\nthus, she went immediately to the wallet-maker's, and giving him\na piece of gold, desired he would let his assistant accompany her\nhome with two of his best wallets. The man was pleased with her\ngenerosity, and selecting his choicest manufacture, commanded his\njourneyman to accompany the nurse.\n\nThe old woman led the disguised princess through by-paths to a\nprivate passage of the palace, and introduced her into the\napartments of the daughter of the sultan, who received her\nsupposed beloved with emotions of joy too violent to be\nconcealed. Pretending to admire the goods, she asked some\nquestions, and giving him twenty pieces of gold, desired him to\nreturn with more goods on the following evening, to which the\nseeming journeyman replied, \"To hear is to obey.\"\n\nThe disguised princess on her return home delivered the twenty\npieces of gold to her employer, who was alarmed, and inquired\nfrom whence they came: upon which she informed him of her\nadventure, when the   wallet-maker was in greater terror than\nbefore, and said to himself, \"If this intrigue goes on, the\nsultan will discover it, I shall be put to death, and my family\nruined on account of this young man and his follies.\" He then\nbesought him not to repeat his visit, but he answered, \"I cannot\nforbear, though I dread my death may be the consequence.\" In\nshort, the disguised princess went every evening with the old\nnurse to the apartments of the sultan's daughter, till at length\nthe sultan one night suddenly entered, and perceiving, he\nsupposed, a man with the princess, commanded him to be seized and\nbound hand and foot.\n\nThe sultan then sent for an executioner, resolved to put the\nculprit to death. The executioner on his arrival seized the\ndisguised princess; but what was the surprise of all present,\nwhen, on taking off the turban and vest, they discovered her sex.\nThe sultan commanded her to be conducted to his haram, and\ninquired her story, when having no resource but the truth, she\nrelated her adventures.\n\nWhen the princess had informed the sultan of the treachery of the\nvizier, the consequent conduct of her father, the distress of her\nmother, her sisters and herself, their being relieved, and her\nescape from shipwreck, with what had happened since, he was\nfilled with wonder and compassion, and ordered his daughter to\naccommodate her in the haram. The love of the latter was now\nchanged to sincere friendship, and under her care and attentions\nthe unfortunate princess in a few months recovered her former\nbeauty. It chanced that the sultan visiting his daughter was\nfascinated with the charms of the princess, but unwilling to\ninfringe the rules of hospitality concealed his love, till at\nlength he became dangerously ill, when the daughter suspecting\nthe matter, prevailed upon him to reveal the cause of his\ncomplaint. She then informed her friend, and entreated her to\naccept her father in marriage; but the princess said, at the same\ntime weeping bitterly, \"Misfortune hath separated me from my\nfamily; I know not whether my sisters, my father and my mother,\nare living, or, if so, what is their condition. How can I be\nhappy or merry, while they are perhaps involved in misery?\"\n\nThe daughter of the sultan did not refrain from comforting the\nunfortunate princess, at the same time representing the hopeless\ncondition of her father, till at length she consented to the\nmarriage. This joyful intelligence speedily revived the love-lorn\nsultan, and the nuptials were celebrated with the utmost joy and\nmagnificence.\n\nThe aged sultan and sultana continued to lament the loss of their\ndaughters for some years, when at length the former resolved to\ntravel in search of them, and having left the government in\ncharge of his wife, departed, attended only by his vizier. They\nboth assumed the habit of dervishes, and after a month's\nuninterrupted travelling reached a large city extending along the\nsea coast, close upon which the sultan of it had erected a\nmagnificent pleasure house, where the pretended dervishes beheld\nhim sitting in one of the pavilions with his two sons, one six\nand the other seven years old. They approached, made their\nobeisance, and uttered a long invocation, agreeably to the usage\nof the religious, for his prosperity. The sultan returned their\ncompliment, desired them to be seated, and having conversed with\nthem till evening, dismissed them with a present, when they\nrepaired to a caravanserai, and hired an apartment. On the\nfollowing day, after amusing themselves with viewing the city,\nthey again repaired to the beach, and saw the sultan sitting with\nhis children, as before. While they were admiring the beauty of\nthe structure, the younger prince, impelled by an unaccountable\nimpulse, came up to them, gazed eagerly at them, and when they\nretired followed them to their lodging, which they did not\nperceive till he had entered with them and sat down. The old\nsultan was astonished at the child's behaviour, took him in his\narms, kissed and fondled him, after which he desired him to\nreturn to his parents, but the boy insisted upon staying, and\nremained four days, during which the pretended dervishes did not\nstir from their caravanserai.\n\nThe sultan missing his son, supposed that he had gone to his\nmother, and she imagined that he was still with his father; but\non the latter entering the haram the loss was discovered.\nMessengers were despatched every way, but no tidings of the boy\ncould be obtained. The miserable parents now supposed that he had\nfallen into the sea and was drowned. Nets were dragged, and\ndivers employed for three days, but in vain. On the fifth day\norders were issued to search every house in the city, when the\ninfant prince was at length discovered at the caravanserai in the\napartment of the pretended dervishes, who were ignominiously\ndragged before the sultan.\n\nThe sultan was transported with joy at the recovery of his son,\nbut supposing the dervishes had meant to steal him away, he\nordered them instantly to be put to death. The executioners\nseized them, bound their hands behind them, and were going to\nstrike, when the child with loud outcries ran up, and clinging to\nthe knees of the elder victim could not be forced away. The\nsultan was astonished, and ordering the execution for the present\nto be delayed, went and informed the mother of the child of his\nwonderful behaviour.\n\nThe sultana, on hearing it, was no less surprised than the\nsultan, and felt a curiosity to hear from the dervish himself on\nwhat account he had enticed away her son. She said, \"It is truly\nextraordinary that the boy should express such affection for a\nstrange dervish. Send for him to your closet, and order him to\nrelate his adventures, to which I will listen from behind a\ncurtain.\"\n\nThe sultan sent for the supposed dervish, and commanding all his\nattendants to retire, withdrew with him into his closet, and\ndesired him to be seated; after which he said, \"Wicked dervish,\nwhat could have induced thee to entice away my son, or to visit\nmy kingdom?\" He replied, \"Heaven knows, O sultan, I did not\nentice him. The boy followed me to my lodging, when I said, 'My\nson, return to thy father,' but he would not; and I remained in\ncontinual dread till what was decreed occurred.\" The sultan was\nsoftened, spoke kindly to him, and begged him to relate his\nadventures, when the pretended dervish wept, and said, \"My\nhistory is a wonderful one. I had a friend whom I left as my\nagent and guardian to my family, while I was performing a\npilgrimage to Mecca; but had scarcely left my house ten days,\nwhen accidently seeing my wife he endeavoured to debauch her, and\nsent an old woman with a rich present to declare his adulterous\nlove. My wife was enraged, and put the infamous messenger to\ndeath. He sent a second, and a third, whom she also killed.\"\n\nThese last words were scarcely spoken, when the sultana bursting\nfrom her concealment ran up to the dervish, fell upon his neck,\nand embraced him: upon which, the sultan her husband was enraged,\nput his hand to his cimeter, and exclaimed, \"What means this\nshameless behaviour?\" The sultana, at once laughing and crying\nwith rapture, informed him that the supposed dervish was her\nfather: upon which the sultan also fell at his feet and welcomed\nhim. He then ordered the other dervish his vizier to be released,\ncommanded royal robes to be brought for his father-in-law, and a\nsuite of apartments in the palace to be prepared for his\nreception, with an attendance befitting his dignity.\n\nWhen the old sultan had spent some time with his youngest\ndaughter thus happily recovered, he became anxious to search\nafter the others, and signified his intention of departing; but\nhis son-in-law declared that he would accompany him on the\nexpedition with a number of his nobles, and an army, lest some\nfatal accident might occur from his being unattended.\nPreparations were accordingly made for march, the two sultans\nencamped without the city, and in a few days began their\nexpedition, which proved successful to their wishes. The aged\nmonarch having recovered his children retired to his own kingdom,\nwhere he reigned prosperously till the angel of death summoned\nhim to Paradise.\n\n\n\n\n            STORY OF THE BANG-EATER AND THE CAUZEE.\n\n\n\nIn a certain city there was a vagabond fellow much addicted to\nthe use of bang, who got his livelihood by fishing. When he had\nsold the product of his day's labour, he laid part of it out in\nprovisions and part in bang, with which (his day's, work over) he\nsolaced himself till he became intoxicated, and such was his\nconstant practice. One night, having indulged more than ordinary,\nhis senses were unusually stupefied; and in this, condition he\nhad occasion to come down into the square in which was his\nlodging. It happened to be the fourteenth night of the moon, when\nshe shone uncommonly bright, and shed such a lustre upon the\nground, that the bang-eater from the dizziness of his head\nmistook the bright undulations of her reflection on the pavement\nfor water, and fancied he was upon the brink of the river. He\nreturned to his chamber, and brought down his line, supposing\nthat he should catch his usual prey.\n\nThe bang-eater threw out his line, made of strong cord, and\nbaited on several hooks with bits of flesh, into the square, when\na dog, allured by the scent, swallowed one of the pieces, and\nfeeling pain from the hook which stuck in his throat, pulled\nstrongly at the cord. The bang-eater, supposing he had caught a\nmonstrous fish, lugged stoutly, but in vain. The dog, agonized by\nthe hook, resisted; at the same time yelping hideously, when the\nbang-eater, unwilling to quit his prey, yet fearing he should be\ndragged into the imaginary river, bellowed aloud for help. The\nwatch came up, seized him, and perceiving him intoxicated,\ncarried him bound to the cauzee.\n\nIt happened that the cauzee often privately indulged himself with\nbang. Seeing the intoxicated situation of the fisherman, he\npitied his condition, and ordered him to be put into a chamber to\nsleep off his disorder; at the same time saying to himself, \"This\nis a man after my own heart, and to-morrow evening I will enjoy\nmyself with him.\" The fisherman was well taken care of during the\nday, and at night the cauzee sent for him to his apartment;\nwhere, after eating, they took each a powerful dose of bang,\nwhich soon operating upon their brains, they began to sing,\ndance, and commit a thousand extravagancies.\n\nThe noise which they made attracted the notice of the sultan, who\nwith his vizier was traversing the city, disguised as merchants.\nFinding the doors open, they entered, and beheld the cauzee and\nhis companion in the height of their mirth, who welcomed them,\nand they sat down. At length, after many ridiculous tricks, the\nfisherman starting up, exclaimed, \"I am the sultan!\" \"And I,\"\nrejoined the cauzee, \"am my lord the bashaw!\" \"Bashaw!\" continued\nthe fisherman, \"if I choose I can strike off thy head.\" \"I know\nit,\" returned the cauzee, \"but at present I am not worth\nbeheading; give me first a rich government, that I may be worth\npunishing.\" \"Thou sayest true,\" answered the fisherman; \"I must\nmake thee fat before thou wilt be fit for killing.\"\n\nThe sultan laughed at their extravagancies, and said to his\nvizier, \"I will amuse myself with these vagabonds to-morrow\nevening:\" then rising up, he and his minister departed.\n\nThe next evening the cauzee and the fisherman indulged themselves\nas before, and while they were making merry, the sultan and his\nvizier entered, but in different disguises from those they had\nworn on the former night. They brought with them a strong\nconfection of opium, which they presented to their hosts, who,\nhighly delighted, greedily devoured it, and such were the effects\nthat they became madder than ever. At length, the fisherman\nstarting up, exclaimed, \"The sultan is deposed, and I am\nsovereign in his stead.\" \"Suppose the sultan should hear thee,\"\nreplied the prince. \"If he opposes me,\" cried the fisherman, \"I\nwill order my bashaw to strike off his head; but I will now\npunish thee for thy insolent question.\" He then ran up and seized\nthe sultan by the nose, the cauzee at the same time attacking the\nvizier: it was with difficulty that they made their escape from\nthe house.\n\nThe sultan, notwithstanding his tweak by the nose, resolved to divert\nhimself further with the bang-eaters, and the next evening putting on\na fresh disguise, repaired to the cauzee's house with his vizier;\nwhere he found the happy companions in high glee. They had taken it\ninto their heads to dance, which they did with such vehemence, and for\nso long a time, that at length they fell down with fatigue. When they\nhad rested a little, the fisherman perceiving the sultan, said,\n\"Whence comest thou?\" \"We are strangers,\" replied the sultan, \"and\nonly reached this city to-night; but on our way through the streets,\nhearing your mirth, we made bold to enter, that we might participate\nit with you. Are ye not, however, fearful lest the sultan should hear\nyou on his rounds, and punish you for an infringement of the laws?\"\n\"How should the sultan hear us?\" answered the fisherman; \"he is in his\npalace, and we in our own house, though, perhaps, much merrier than\nhe, poor fellow, with the cares of state upon his mind,\nnotwithstanding his splendour.\"\n\n\"How comes it,\" rejoined the sovereign, \"that you have not\nvisited the sultan? for you are merry fellows, and I think he\nwould encourage you.\" \"We fear,\" replied the fisherman, \"his\nguards would beat us away.\" \"Never mind them,\" said the sultan;\n\"if you choose I will give you a letter of recommendation, which\nI am sure he will pay attention to, for we were intimate when\nyouths.\" \"Let us have it,\" cried the fisherman. The sultan wrote\na note, directed to himself, and departed.\n\nIn the morning the cauzee and the fisherman repaired to the\npalace, and delivered the note to one of the guards, who, on\nsight of it, placed it on his head, prostrated himself to the\nground, and then introduced them to the sultan. Having read the\nletter, the sultan commanded them to be led into separate\napartments, and to be treated respectfully. At noon a handsome\ncollation was served up to each, and at sunset a full service,\nafter which they were presented with coffee. When about two hours\nof the night had passed, the sultan ordered them into his\npresence, and on their making their obeisance returned their\nsalutes, and desired them to be seated, saying, \"Where is the\nperson who gave you this letter?\"\n\n\"Mighty sultan,\" replied the fisherman, \"two men who last night\nvisited our house inquired why we did not repair to your majesty,\nand partake of your bounty. We replied, that we feared the guards\nwould drive us away; when one of them gave us this note, saying,\n'Fear not; take this recommendation to the sultan, with whom in\nmy youth I was intimate.' We followed his direction, and have\nfound his words to be true. We inquired whence they came; but\nthey would not tell us more than that they were strangers in this\ncity.\" \"It is,\" continued the sultan, \"absolutely necessary that\nyou should bring them to my presence, for it is long since I have\nbeheld my old friends.\" \"Permit us then to return home, where\nthey may possibly visit us again,\" said the fisherman, \"and we\nwill oblige them to come with us.\" \"How can you do that,\" replied\nthe sultan, \"when the other evening you could not prevent your\nguest escaping, though you had him by the nose?\"\n\nThe poor fisherman, and his companion the cauzee, were now\nconfounded at the discovery that it was the sultan himself who\nhad witnessed their intoxication and ridiculous transports. They\ntrembled, turned pale, and fell prostrate to the ground, crying,\n\"Pardon, pardon, gracious sovereign, for the offences we have\ncommitted, and the insult which in our madness we offered to the\nsacred person of your majesty.\"\n\nThe sultan, after laughing heartily at their distress, replied,\n\"Your pardon is granted, for the insult was involuntary, though\ndeserved, as I was an impertinent intruder on your privacy; make\nyourselves easy, and sit down; but you must each of you relate to\nme your adventures, or some story that you have heard.\" The\ncauzee and the fisherman, having recovered from their confusion,\nobeyed the commands of the sultan, and being seated, the latter\nrelated the following tale.\n\n\n\n\n               Story of the Bang-eater and His Wife.\n\n\n\nThere lived formerly, near Bagdad, a half-witted fellow, who was\nmuch addicted to the use of bang. Being reduced to poverty, he\nwas obliged to sell his stock. One day he went to the market to\ndispose of a cow; but the animal being in bad order, no one would\nbid for it, and after waiting till he was weary he returned\nhomewards. On the way he stopped to repose himself under a tree,\nand tied the cow to one of the branches while he ate some bread,\nand drank of an infusion of his beloved bang, which he always\ncarried with him. In a short time it began to operate, so as to\nbereave him of the little sense he possessed, and his head was\nfilled with ridiculous reveries. While he was musing, a magpie\nbeginning to chatter from her nest in the tree, he fancied it was\na human voice, and that some woman had asked to purchase his cow:\nupon which he said, \"Reverend mother of Solomon, dost thou wish\nto buy my cow?\" The bird croaked again. \"Well,\" replied he, \"what\nwilt thou give if I will sell her a bargain.\" The bird repeated\nher croak. \"Never mind,\" said the foolish fellow, \"for though\nthou hast forgotten to bring thy purse, yet, as I dare say thou\nart an honest woman, and hast bidden me ten deenars, I will trust\nthee with the cow, and call on Friday for the money.\" The bird\nrenewed her croaking, which he fancied to be thanks for his\nconfidence; so leaving the cow tied to the branch of the tree, he\nreturned home exulting in the good bargain he had made for the\nanimal.\n\nWhen he entered the house, his wife inquired what he had gotten\nfor the cow; to which he replied, that he had sold her to an\nhonest woman named Am Solomon, who had promised to pay him on the\nnext Friday ten pieces of gold. The wife was contented, and when\nFriday arrived, her idiot of a husband having, as usual, taken a\ndose of bang, repaired to the tree, and hearing the bird\nchattering, as before, said, \"Well, my good mother, hast thou\nbrought the gold?\" The bird croaked. Supposing the imaginary\nwoman refused to pay him, he became angry, and threw up his\nspade, which frightening the bird, it flew from the nest, and\nalighted on a heap of soil at some distance. He fancied that Am\nSolomon had desired him to take his money from the heap, into\nwhich he dug with his spade, and found a brazen vessel full of\ngold coin. This discovery convinced him he was right, and being,\nnotwithstanding his weakness, naturally honest, he only took ten\npieces; then replacing the soil, said, \"May Allah requite thee\nfor thy punctuality, good mother!\" and returned to his wife, to\nwhom he gave the money, informing her at the same time of the\ngreat treasure his friend Am Solomon possessed, and where it was\nconcealed. The wife waited till night, when she went and brought\naway the pot of gold; which her husband observing, said, \"It is\ndishonest to rob one who has paid us so punctually, and if thou\ndost not return it to its place, I will inform the (walee)\nofficer of police.\"\n\nThe wife laughed at his folly; but fearing the ill consequences\nof his executing his threat, she planned a stratagem to prevent\nthem. Going to the market, she purchased some broiled meat and\nfish ready dressed, which she brought privately home, and\nconcealed in the house. At night, the husband having regaled\nhimself with his beloved bang, retired to sleep off his\nintoxication; but about midnight she strewed the provisions she\nhad brought at the door, and awakening her partner, cried out, in\npretended astonishment, \"Dear husband, a most wonderful\nphenomenon has occurred; there has been a violent storm while you\nslept, and, strange to tell, it has rained pieces of broiled meat\nand fish, which now lie at the door!\" The husband, still in a\nstate of stupefaction from the bang, got up, went to the door,\nand seeing the provisions, was persuaded of the truth of his\nwife's story. The fish and flesh were gathered up, and he partook\nwith much glee of the miraculous treat; but he still threatened\nto inform the walee of her having stolen the treasure of the good\nold woman Am Solomon.\n\nIn the morning the foolish bang-eater actually repaired to the\nwalee, and informed him that his wife had stolen a pot of gold,\nwhich she had still in her possession. The walee upon this\napprehended the woman, who denied the accusation, when she was\nthreatened with death. She then said, \"My lord, the power is in\nyour hands; but I am an injured woman, as you will find by\nquestioning my unfortunate husband; who, alas! is deranged in his\nintellects. Ask him when I committed the theft.\" The walee did\nso; to which he replied, \"It was on the evening of that night on\nwhich it rained broiled flesh and fish ready dressed.\" \"Wretch!\"\nexclaimed the walee, \"dost thou dare to utter falsehoods before\nme? Who ever saw it rain any thing but water?\" \"As I hope for\nlife, my lord,\" replied the bang-eater, \"I speak the truth; for\nmy wife and myself ate of the fish and flesh which fell from the\nclouds.\" The woman being appealed to, denied the assertion of her\nhusband.\n\nThe walee being now convinced that the man was crazy, released\nhis wife, and sent the husband to the madhouse; where he remained\nsome days, till the wife, pitying his condition, contrived to get\nhim released by the following stratagem. She visited her husband,\nand desired him when any one inquired of him if he had seen it\nrain flesh and fish, to answer, \"No: who ever saw it rain any\nthing but water?\" She then informed the keeper that he was come\nto his senses, and desired him to put the question. On his\nanswering properly he was released.\n\nThe fisherman had not long been in the service of the sultan,\nwhen walking one day near the house of a principal merchant, his\ndaughter chanced to look through a window, and the buffoon was so\nstruck with her beauty that he became devoted to love. Daily did\nhe repair to the same spot for weeks together in hopes of once\nseeing her, but in vain; for she did not again appear at the\nwindow. At length, his passion had such an effect upon him that\nhe fell sick, kept his bed, and began to rave, exclaiming, \"Ah!\nwhat charming eyes, what a beautiful complexion, what a graceful\nstature has my beloved!\" In this situation he was attended by an\nold woman, who, compassionating his case, desired him to reveal\nthe cause of his uneasiness.\n\n\"My dear mother,\" replied he, \"I thank thee for thy kindness; but\nunless thou canst assist me I must soon die.\" He then related\nwhat he had seen, and described to her the house of the merchant.\nWhen she said, \"Son, be of good cheer; for no one could so\nreadily have assisted thee in this dilemma as myself. Have\npatience, and I will speedily return with intelligence of thy\nbeloved.\" Having spoken thus, she departed, and upon reaching her\nown house disguised herself as a devotee. Throwing over her\nshoulders a coarse woollen gown, holding in one hand a long\nstring of beads, in the other a walking staff, she proceeded to\nthe merchant's house, at the gate of which she cried, \"God is\nGod, there is no God but God; may his holy name be praised, and\nmay God be with you,\" in a most devout tone.\n\nThe merchant's daughter, on hearing this devout ejaculation, came\nto the door, saluted the old woman with great respect, and said,\n\"Dear mother, pray for me:\" when she exclaimed, \"May Allah\nprotect thee, my beloved child, from all injury!\" The young lady\nthen introduced her into the house, seated her in the most\nhonourable place, and with her mother sat down by her. They\nconversed on religious subjects till noon, when the old woman\ncalled for water, performed her ablutions, and recited prayers of\nan unusual length: upon which the mother and daughter remarked to\none another that the aged matron must certainly be a most\nreligious character. When prayers were ended, they set a\ncollation before her; but she declined partaking, saying, \"I am\nto day observing a fast.\" This increased their respect and\nadmiration of her sanctity, so that they requested her to remain\nwith them till sunset, and break her fast with them, to which she\nconsented. At sunset she prayed again, after which she ate a\nlittle, and then uttered many pious exhortations. In short, the\nmother and daughter were so pleased with her, that they invited\nher to stay all night. In the morning, she rose early, made her\nablutions, prayed for a considerable time, and concluded with a\nblessing upon her entertainers in learned words, which they could\nnot understand. When she rose up, they supported her by the arms\nrespectfully, and entreated her longer stay; but she declined it,\nand having taken leave, departed; promising, however, with the\npermission of Allah, to make them soon another visit.\n\nOn the second day following, the old woman repaired again to the\nmerchant's house, and was joyfully received by the mother and\ndaughter; who, kissing her hands and feet, welcomed her return.\nShe behaved the same as before, and inspired them with stronger\nveneration for her sandity. Her visits now grew frequent, and she\nwas always a welcome guest in the merchant's family. At length,\none evening she entered, and said, \"I have an only daughter,\nwhose espousals are now celebrating, and this night the bride\ngoes in state to her husband's house. My desire is that my good\nyoung lady should attend the ceremony, and receive the benefit of\nmy prayers.\" The mother replied, \"I am unwilling to let her go,\nlest some accident should befall her:\" upon which the pretended\nreligious exclaimed, \"What canst thou fear, while I and other\ndevout women shall be with her?\" The daughter expressing great\neagerness to attend the nuptials, her mother at length consented.\n\nWhen the merchant's daughter had adorned herself in her richest\nhabit, she accompanied the old woman; who, after leading her\nthrough several streets, conducted her to the lodging of the late\nfisherman, but now favourite to the sultan, who was eagerly\nexpecting her arrival. The young lady was astonished on her\nentrance at beholding a comely looking man; who, she saw, could\nhardly restrain his raptures at the sight of her. Her first alarm\nwas great at finding herself betrayed into such a snare by the\nhypocritical beldam; but having naturally much presence of mind,\nshe concealed her fears, and considered how she might escape. She\nsat down, and after looking round the apartment affected to\nlaugh, saying to the gallant, \"It is commonly usual when a lover\ninvites his mistress to his house to have an entertainment\nprepared; for what is love without the accompaniment of a feast?\nIf you wish, therefore, that I should spend the evening here, go\nand bring in some good cheer, that our joy may be complete. I\nwill with my good mother wait your return.\"\n\nThe gallant, rejoiced at her commands, exclaimed, \"Thou hast\nspoken truly, and to hear is to obey;\" after which, he went\ntowards the market to order a splendid entertainment. When he was\ngone, the young lady locked the door after him, and thanking the\nold woman for introducing her to so handsome a lover, threw her\noff her guard, while she walked about the apartment meditating\nher escape. At length she found in one corner of it a sharp\nsabre, and drawing up her sleeve to her elbow, she grasped the\nweapon, which she struck with such force at her false friend, who\nwas reclining on a sofa, as to cleave the head of the abandoned\nprocuress in two, and she fell down weltering in her blood, to\nrise no more.\n\nThe merchant's daughter now searched the room, and finding a rich\ndress which the favourite usually wore when he visited the\nsultan, rolled it up in a bundle, and carrying it under her veil,\nunlocked the door, and hastened homewards. Luckily she reached\nher father's house without interruption. Her mother welcomed her\nwith joy; but on perceiving the bundle, said, \"My dear daughter,\nwhat can have been given thee at the nuptials of a poor\nreligious?\" The daughter, whose mind had been over agitated with\nher late adventure, was not able to answer; her spirits sunk at\nthe recollection of her narrow escape, and she fainted away. The\nmother shrieked aloud with affright, which brought in her husband\nand attendants, who used various means for the young lady's\nrecovery; and at length, having regained her senses, she related\nwhat had passed. The merchant having cursed the memory of the old\nwoman for her hypocritical deception, comforted his virtuous\ndaughter, and taking up the dress which he knew, and to whom it\nbelonged, hastened to make his complaint to the sultan.\n\nWhen the sultan had heard the complaint of the merchant, he was\nenraged against his unworthy favourite, and commanded him to be\napprehended; but he could no where be found, for having on his\nreturn home seen the old woman weltering in her blood, he guessed\nwhat had happened; and apprehensive of being called to an\naccount, putting on a mean disguise, made his escape from the\ncity. Fortunately for him a caravan was just taking its\ndeparture, and with it he travelled for five days successively,\nwith a mind tortured by disappointed love, and the fear of\ndiscovery. At length the caravan passed the confines of his late\nmaster, and encamped before a large city, which he entered, and\nhaving hired a room at a caravanserai, he resolved to repose, and\nseek out for some employment less dangerous than making love, or\nserving princes.\n\nWhen he had rested himself for some days, he repaired to a\nmarket, where labourers stood to be hired; and had not waited\nlong, when a woman coming up asked if he wanted work, to which he\nreplied in the affirmative. She then said, \"Part of the wall\nround the court of my house is so much decayed, that I must have\nit taken down and rebuilt, and if thou art willing to undertake\nthe job I will employ thee.\" On his consenting, she led him to\nher house, and shewing him the wall, gave him a pick-axe,\ndirecting him as he went on to place the stones in one heap and\nthe rubbish in another. He replied, \"To hear is to obey.\" She\nthen brought him some provision and water, when he refreshed\nhimself, and having thanked God that he had escaped, and was able\nto get his living, began his task, which he continued till\nsunset. His employer paid him ten pieces of silver for his day's\nwork, and he returned contented to his lodging.\n\nThe following morning he again went to labour, and was treated\nwith the same kindness as before. About noon, as he was stocking\nup the foundation of the wall he found a copper vessel, which\nupon examination proved to be full of golden coin. He carried the\nvessel to his lodging, where he counted the money, upwards of a\nhundred deenars, and returned to his work. As he was coming home\nin the evening, he saw a crowd following a man who carried upon\nhis head a large chest, which he offered for sale at a hundred\ndeenars, but refused to mention the contents.\n\nThe fisherman was seized with an irresistible impulse to purchase\nthe chest, and having a small silver coin of not more value than\na silver penny, said to himself, \"I will try my fate, possibly it\nmay contain something valuable; but if not, I will disregard the\ndisappointment;\" ordered it to be conveyed to his lodging, and\npaid the price demanded. He then locked his door and opened the\nchest, when, to his astonishment, he beheld in it a beautiful\ngirl very richly dressed, but apparently lifeless. However, on\nputting his hand to her mouth, he perceived that she breathed,\nand was only in a deep sleep, from which he endeavoured to awake\nher, but in vain. He then took her out of the chest, laid her\ngently on his carpet, and continued to gaze at her charms; till\nat length about midnight she awoke, and in an exclamation of\nalarm and surprise exclaimed, \"Gracious Allah, where am I?\"\n\nWhen the lady's first alarm had subsided, she asked the fisherman\nhow he had brought her to his lodging, and on being informed of\nthe circumstances her mind became easy; for he behaved towards\nher with respectful attention. Concealing for the present her\ncondition and adventures, she said, \"This lodging is too mean, on\nthe morrow you must hire a better. Serve me with fidelity, do as\nI desire, and you shall be amply rewarded.\" The fisherman, who,\ncautioned by his last love adventure, was fearful of taking\nliberties, and awed by her dignified demeanour, made a profound\nobeisance, and professed himself her slave. He set before her the\nbest refreshments he could procure, and when she had supped left\nher, and retired to sleep in a separate chamber.\n\nEarly the next morning he went and hired a decent house, to which\nhe conveyed her in a covered litter, and did not cease to attend\nupon her in all her commands for twenty days, she supplying him\nwith money to purchase necessaries.\n\nIt is proper now to mention, that the lady bought by the\nfisherman in the chest was the favourite mistress of the sultan:\nhaving deserted for her all his other women, they had become\nenvious; but the sultana, who, before the arrival of Koout al\nKoolloob (for such was her name) had presided over the haram, was\nmore mortified than the rest, and had resolved to effect her\nremoval. For this a favourable opportunity soon occurred, owing\nto the sultan's departure for twenty days upon a hunting\nexcursion. In a day or two after his absence, the sultana invited\nKoout al Koolloob to an entertainment, and having mixed a strong\nsoporific in some sherbet, presented it her to drink. The effect\nof the potion was instantaneous, and she sunk into a trance; when\nthe sultana putting her into the chest, commanded it to be given\nto a broker, and sold without examination of the contents, for a\nhundred deenars; hoping, that whoever might be the purchaser, he\nwould be so fascinated with the charms of the beautiful Koout al\nKoolloob, as to enjoy his good fortune in secrecy; and that she\nshould thus get rid of a rival without the crime of\nassassination.\n\nWhen the sultan returned from his excursion, immediately on\nentering the palace he inquired for his favourite; when the\nsultana entering with affected sadness, said, \"Alas! my lord, the\nbeautiful and affectionate Koout al Koolloob, unable to bear the\npangs of absence, three days after your departure fell sick, and\nhaving lingered for seven days, was gathered to the mercy of the\nAlmighty.\" The sultan, on hearing this, burst into an agony of\ngrief, and exclaimed, \"There is no asylum or refuge but with God;\nfrom God we came, and to God we must return.\" He was overcome\nwith affliction, and remained the whole night involved in\nmelancholy. In the morning he sent for his vizier, and commanded\nhim to look out for a spot on the bank of the river for the\nerection of a building in which he might sit retired, and\nmeditate on his beloved Koout al Koolloob.\n\nThe vizier replied, \"To hear is to obey;\" and taking with him an\narchitect, fixed upon a pleasant spot, on which he ordered him to\nmark out a space of ninety yards in length and seventy in breadth\nfor the intended building. The necessary materials, of stone and\nmarbles, were soon collected, and the work was begun upon; which\nthe minister for two days superintended in person. On the third\nthe sultan came to view the progress. He approved of the plan,\nand said, \"It is truly beautiful; but, alas! only worthy of the\nresidence of Koout al Koolloob;\" after which he wept bitterly.\nSeeing the distress of the sultan, his vizier said, \"My lord, be\nresigned under distress; for the wise have written, Be moderate\nwhen prosperity occurs, and when calamity afflicts thee exercise\npatience.'\"\n\nThe sultan replied, \"It is true, O vizier, that resignation is\npraiseworthy, and impatience blamable; for a poet has justly\nsaid, 'Be calm under adversity; for calmness can alone extricate\nfrom danger.' To affliction joy often succeeds, and after trouble\nwe generally enjoy repose; but, alas! human nature cannot divest\nitself of feeling; and Koout al Koolloob was so dear to me, and\nso delighted my soul, that I dread I shall never find another\nmistress her equal in beauty and accomplishments.\" The vizier\nconsoled his master, and at length prevailed upon him to submit\nto his misfortune with some degree of resignation.\n\nThe sultan and vizier daily repaired to view the progress of the\nnew edifice, the report of which had spread through the city, and\nat length reached Koout al Koolloob, who said to the fisherman,\n\"We are every day expending our money, and getting nothing:\nsuppose, therefore, you seek employment in the building which the\nsultan is erecting. Report says that he is liberal, so that\npossibly advantage may accrue.\" The fisherman replied, \"My dear\nmistress, how shall I bear the least absence from you?\" for he\nloved her, and she perceiving it, often dreaded that he would\nhave made advances; but the remembrance of what he had endured\nfrom the conduct of the merchant's daughter had made him\ncautious. She replied, \"Dost thou really love me?\" \"Canst thou\ndoubt it?\" answered he; \"thou art my life, and the light of my\neyes!\" \"If so,\" exclaimed she, \"take this necklace, and when you\nthink of me as you are working, look at it, and it will console\nyou till your return home.\"\n\nThe fisherman obeyed the commands of Koout al Koolloob, repaired\nto the spot where the edifice was erecting, and beheld the sultan\nand vizier observing the workmen. The former inquired if he\nwanted employment, to which he replied in the affirmative, and\nwas hired. He began his labour; but so much was his mind engaged\nwith his mistress, that every now and then, dropping his\nimplements, he drew out the necklace, and looking upon it heaved\na deep sigh, which the sultan observing, said to his vizier,\n\"This man, perchance, is more unhappy than myself; let us call\nhim to us, and inquire into his circumstances.\" The vizier\nbrought him to the presence, and desired him to tell honestly why\nhe had sighed so deeply. \"Alas!\" replied he, \"I am absent from my\nbeloved, who gave me this necklace to look at whenever I might\nthink upon her; and my mind is so taken up with her, that I\ncannot help laying down my tools, and admiring it constantly.\"\n\nWhen the sultan saw the necklace, he recollected that it was one\nwhich he had purchased for Koout al Koolloob for a thousand\ndeenars. He concealed his agitation, and said, \"To whom does this\nnecklace belong?\" \"To my slave,\" replied the labourer, \"whom I\npurchased for a hundred deenars.\" \"Canst thou admit us to thy\nlodging,\" rejoined the sultan, \"that we may see her?\" \"I dread,\"\nanswered the labourer, \"that her modesty may be offended; but I\nwill consult her, and if she assents, I will invite you to my\nlodging.\" \"That is but just,\" said the sultan, \"and no more than\nwhat is proper.\"\n\nThe labourer at sunset returned home, and informed Koout al\nKoolloob of his adventure, when she desired him on the morrow to\npurchase what was requisite for a decent entertainment, at the\nsame time giving him five deenars. In the morning he bought what\nshe had desired, and going to his work, informed the sultan and\nvizier that they were welcome to his homely fare, and to see his\nslave; or rather, said he, \"My divinity, for as such I have at\nhumble distance adored her.\"\n\nThe sultan and vizier accompanied the labourer to his house where\nthey were astonished to find prepared an elegant collation, of\nwhich they partook; after which they drank sherbet and coffee.\nThe sultan then desired to see his slave, who just made her\nappearance, but retired immediately. However, the sultan knew\nher; and said to the labourer, \"Wilt thou dispose of this\ndamsel?\" \"I cannot, my lord,\" replied the labourer, \"for my soul\nis wholly occupied with her love, though as yet unreturned.\" \"May\nthy love be rewarded!\" exclaimed the sultan; \"but bring her with\nthee at sunset to the palace.\" \"To hear is to obey,\" replied the\nlabourer.\n\nAt sunset the labourer conducted his slave to the palace, when\nthe eunuchs attended, and would have led her into the haram; but\nhe clung round her, and exclaimed, \"She is my beloved, and I\ncannot part with her.\" Upon this the sultan related the\ncircumstances of his having lost her; and requested him to give\nher up. Knowing that he durst not oppose the sovereign, he\nsubmitted to his commands with resignation, when the sultan\npresented him with fifteen hundred deenars, and a beautiful\nslave, also a rich dress, at the same time receiving him among\nthe most distinguished of his officers. So well did he conduct\nhimself in his new station, that in a short time he was promoted\nto the rank of prime minister, and fulfilled the duties of it\nwith such ability and integrity, that he became celebrated by the\ntitle of the Just Vizier.\n\nSuch was the celebrity of the vizier's decisions, that in a short\ntime appeals were made from the most distant provinces to his\njudgment. One of the most remarkable cases was the following. Two\nwomen belonging to one man conceived on the same day, and were\ndelivered, one of a boy, the other of a girl, at the same time,\nand in one apartment. The female infant died, when each laid\nclaim to the male child. The magistrates, unable to decide\nbetween the mothers, referred the decision to the just vizier;\nwho, on hearing the circumstances, commanded two eggs to be\nbrought, and the contents to be drawn out without breaking the\nshells; after which he ordered them to be filled with milk from\nthe breast of each woman. This being done, he placed the shells\nin separate scales, and finding one outweigh the other, declared\nthat she whose milk was heaviest must be the mother of the male\nchild; but the other woman was not satisfied with this decision,\nand still affirmed she was the mother of the boy.\n\nThe vizier, vexed at her obstinacy, now commanded the infant to\nbe cut in two; when she, whom he had said was the mother, fell\ninto agonies, and besought its life; but the other was unmoved,\nand assented to the death of the child. He then ordered her to be\nseverely punished, and committed the boy to its afflicted mother.\nOn being asked on what proofs he had grounded his decision, he\nreplied, \"On two: the first, because the milk of a woman having\nproduced a male child is always heavier than that of the mother\nof a female infant: the second, because the pretended mother\nconsented to the boy's death; and I supposed it impossible for a\nwoman to agree to the destruction of her offspring, which is a\npart of herself.\"\n\n\n\n\n            THE SULTAN AND THE TRAVELLER MHAMOOD AL\n                           HYJEMMEE.\n\n\n\nThere was a sultan, who one evening being somewhat low-spirited,\nsent for his vizier, and said, \"I know not the cause, but my mind\nis uneasy, and I want something to divert it.\" \"If so,\" replied\nthe vizier, \"I have a friend, named Mhamood al Hyjemmee, a\ncelebrated traveller, who has witnessed many wonderful\noccurrences, and can relate a variety of astonishing narratives.\nShall I send for him to the presence?\" \"By all means,\" answered\nthe sultan, \"that I may hear his relations.\" The minister\ndeparted, and informed his friend that the sultan desired to see\nhim. \"To hear is to obey,\" replied Mhamood, and hastened with the\nvizier to the palace.\n\nWhen they had entered the palace, Mhamood made the obeisance\nusual to the caliphs, and uttered a poetical invocation for the\nprosperity of the sultan, who returned his salute; and after\ndesiring him to be seated, said, \"Mhamood, my mind is uneasy, and\nas I hear you are acquainted with many curious events, I wish you\nto relate some of them to amuse me.\" Mhamood replied, \"To hear is\nto obey;\" and thus began an adventure of his own.\n\n\n\n\n                          The Koord Robber.\n\n\n\nSome years ago I took a journey from my own country to the land\nof Yemen, accompanied by a slave, who was a lad of much ready\nwit, and who carried a wallet containing a few necessaries. As we\nwere entering a town, a rascally koord snatched the wallet from\nhis hands, and asserted that it was his own, which we had stolen\nfrom him: upon which, I called out to some passengers to assist\nme in the recovery of my property, and they helped me to carry\nthe sharper before the cauzee, to whom I complained of his\nassault. The magistrate asked the koord what he had to allege in\nhis defence; to which he replied, \"My lord, I lost this wallet\nsome days since, and found it in possession of the complainant,\nwho pretends that it is his own, and will not resign it.\" \"If it\nbe thine,\" rejoined the cauzee, \"describe to me what it contains,\nwhen I shall be satisfied that thou speakest the truth.\"\n\nThe koord assented, and with a loud voice cried out, \"In this\nwallet, my lord, are two chests, in which are collyrium for the\neyes, a number of rich napkins, drinking vessels of gold, lamps,\ncooking utensils, dishes, basins, and ewers; also bales of\nmerchandize, jewels, gold, silks, and other precious articles,\nwith a variety of wearing apparel, carpets, cushions, eating\ncloths, and other things too tedious to enumerate; besides, I can\nbring a number of my brother koords to testify to the truth of\nwhat I have said, and that the wallet is mine.\"\n\nWhen the koord had finished, the cauzee smiled, and asked me and\nmy slave what we could describe to be in the wallet: upon which,\nmy slave said, \"My lord, there is nothing in it of what the koord\nhas mentioned, for it contains only both worlds, with all their\nlands, seas, cities, habitations, men, animals, and productions\nof every kind.\" The cauzee laughed, and turning to the koord,\nsaid, \"Friend, thou hast heard what has past; what further canst\nthou say?\" \"The bag is mine,\" continued the koord: upon which,\nthe cauzee ordered it to be emptied; when, lo! there were found\nin it some cakes of bread, a few limes, a little pepper, and a\ncruet of oil. Seeing this, the koord exclaimed, \"Pardon me, my\nlord the cauzee, I have been mistaken, the wallet is not mine;\nbut I must away and search for the thief who has stolen my\nvaluable property.\" Having said this, he ran off, leaving the\ncauzee, myself, and the spectators bursting with laughter at his\nimpudent knavery.\n\nThe sultan was much diverted with the relation of Mhamood, and\nrequested him to relate another story, which he did as follows.\n\n\n\n\n                     Story of the Husbandman.\n\n\n\nA certain husbandman having reared some choice vegetables and\nfruits earlier than usual, resolved to present them to the\nsultan, in hopes of receiving a handsome present. He accordingly\nloaded his ass and set off for the capital, on the road to which\nhe met the sultan, whom he had never before seen; and who being\non a hunting excursion had separated from his attendants. The\nsultan inquired where he was going, and what he carried. \"I am\nrepairing,\" said the husbandman, \"to our lord the sultan, in\nhopes that he will reward me with a handsome price for my fruits\nand vegetables, which I have reared earlier than usual.\" \"What\ndost thou mean to ask him?\" replied the sultan. \"A thousand\ndeenars,\" answered the husbandman; \"which if he refuses to give,\nI will demand five hundred; should he think that sum too much, I\nwill come down to two hundred; and if he declines to give so\nmuch, I will ask thirty deenars, from which price I will not\ndepart.\"\n\nThe sultan now left the husbandman, and hastening to the city,\nentered the palace, where the latter soon after arrived with his\nfruits, and was introduced to the presence. Having made his\nobeisance, the sultan returning his salute, said, \"Father, what\nhast thou brought with thee?\" \"Fruits, reared earlier than\nusual,\" answered the husbandman: to which the sultan replied,\n\"They are acceptable,\" and uncovering them, sent a part by the\neunuchs into his haram, and distributed the rest to his\ncourtiers, excepting a few which he ate himself, talking all the\nwhile to the countryman, whose sensible remarks gave him much\npleasure. He presented him with two hundred deenars, and the\nladies of the haram sent him a present of half that sum. The\nsultan then desired him to return home, give the money to his\nfamily, and come back with speed, as he wished to enjoy his\nconversation. The husbandman having replied, \"To hear is to\nobey,\" blessed the sultan for his bounty, and hastening home gave\nthe deenars to his wife, informing her that he was invited to\nspend the evening at court, and took his leave. It was sunset\nwhen he arrived at the palace, and the sultan being at his\nevening meal invited him to partake. When they were satisfied,\nthey performed their ablutions, and having said the evening\nprayer, and read a portion of the Koraun, the sultan, desiring\nhim to be seated, commanded the husbandman to relate him some\nnarrative. The husbandman being seated, thus began.\n\n\n\n\n           Story of the Three Princes and Enchanting Bird.\n\n\n\nIt has been lately related that there was formerly a sovereign of\nthe East who had three sons, the eldest of whom had heard some\ntraveller describe a particular country where there was a bird\ncalled Bulbul al Syach, who transformed any passenger who came\nnear him into stone. The prince resolved to see this wonderful\nbird; and requested leave to travel from his father, who\nendeavoured in vain to divert him from his purpose. He took\nleave, and on his departure, pulling off a ring set with a\nmagical gem, gave it to his second brother, saying, \"Whenever you\nperceive this ring press hard upon your finger, be assured that I\nam lost beyond recovery.\" Having begun his journey, he did not\ncease travelling till he reached the spot where was the bird's\ncage, in which it used to pass the night, but in the daytime it\nflew about for exercise and food.\n\nIt was the custom of the bird to return about sunset to the cage;\nwhen, if it perceived any person near, it would cry out in a\nplaintive tone, \"Who will say to a poor wanderer, Lodge? who will\nsay to an unhappy Bulbul, Lodge?\" and if the person replied,\n\"Lodge, poor bird!\" it immediately hovered over his head, and\nscattering upon him some earth from its bill, the person became\ntransformed into a stone. Such proved the fate of the unfortunate\nprince.\n\nThe transformation of the eldest prince had no sooner taken place\nthan the ring pressed hard upon the finger of the second, who\nexclaimed, \"Alas! alas! my brother is lost; but I will travel,\nand endeavour to find out his condition.\" It was in vain that the\nsultan his father, and the sultana his mother, remonstrated. He\ndeparted after he had delivered the magical ring to his younger\nbrother, and journeyed till he reached the cage of the bird; who\nhaving ensnared him to pronounce the word lodge, scattered some\nearth upon his head, when he, also, immediately became\ntransformed into stone.\n\nAt this instant the youngest prince was sitting at a banquet with\nhis father; when the ring pressed so hard to his finger, as to\nput him to much pain. He rose up, and exclaimed, \"There is no\nrefuge or asylum but with God; for his we are, and to him we must\nreturn.\" The sultan, upon this, inquired the cause of his grief;\nwhen he said, \"My brother has perished.\"\n\nThe old sultan was loudly lamenting the loss of his two children,\nwhen the youngest continued, \"I will travel and learn the fate of\nmy brothers.\" \"Alas!\" said the father, \"is it not enough that I\nhave lost them, but thou also wilt rush into destruction? I\nentreat thee not to leave me.\" \"Father,\" replied the prince,\n\"fate impels me to search for my brothers, whom, perhaps, I may\nrecover; but if I fail, I shall only have done my duty.\" Having\nsaid this, he departed, in spite of the tears and lamentations of\nhis parents, and travelled till he had reached the residence of\nthe bird; where he found his brothers transformed into images of\nstone. At sunset the bird began its usual tone; but the prince\nsuspecting some deceit, forbore to speak, till at length the\nBulbul retired to his cage, and fell asleep; when watching the\nopportunity, the prince darted upon it, and fastened the door.\nThe bird awoke at the noise, and seeing himself caught, said,\n\"Thou hast won the prize, O glorious son of a mighty sultan!\" \"If\nso,\" exclaimed the prince, \"inform me by what means thou hast\nenchanted so many persons as I see around me changed into images\nof marble, and how I may release them from their unhappy state.\"\n\"Behold,\" replied the bird, \"yonder two heaps of earth, one white\nand the other blue. The blue enchants, and the other will recover\nfrom transformation.\"\n\nThe prince immediately took up handfuls of the white earth, and\nscattering it over the numerous images, they instantly became\nanimated and restored to all their functions. He embraced his two\nbrothers, and received their thanks; also those of the sons of\nmany sultans, bashaws, and great personages, for giving them new\nlife. They informed him that near the spot was a city, all the\ninhabitants of which had been, like them, transformed into stone.\nTo this he repaired, and having relieved them from their\nenchantment, the people out of gratitude made him rich presents,\nand would have chosen him for their sovereign, but he declined\ntheir offer, and resolved to conduct his brothers in safety to\ntheir father.\n\nThe two elder princes, notwithstanding they owed the restoration\nof their lives to their brother, became envious of the valuable\npresents he had received, and of the fame he would acquire at\nhome for his achievement. They said to one another, \"When we\nreach the capital the people will applaud him, and say, 'Lo! the\ntwo elder brothers have been rescued from destruction by the\nyoungest.'\"\n\nThe youngest prince being supplied with horses, camels, and\ncarriages, for himself and companions, began his march homewards,\nand proceeded by easy stages towards the capital of his father;\nwithin one day's journey of which was a reservoir of water lined\nwith marble. On the brink of this he ordered his tents to be\npitched, resolving to pass the night and enjoy himself in\nfeasting with his brothers. An elegant entertainment was\nprepared, and he sat with them till it was time to repose; when\nthey retired to their tents, and he lay down to sleep, having on\nhis finger a ring, which he had found in the cage of the Bulbul.\n\nThe envious brothers thinking this a fit opportunity to destroy\ntheir generous preserver, arose in the dead of night, and taking\nup the prince, cast him into the reservoir, and escaped to their\ntents undiscovered. In the morning they issued orders of march,\nthe tents were struck, and the camels loaded; but the attendants\nmissing the youngest prince, inquired after him; to which the\nbrothers replied, that being asleep in his tent, they were\nunwilling to disturb him. This satisfied them, and having pursued\ntheir march they reached the capital of their father, who was\noverjoyed at their return, and admired the beauty of the Bulbul,\nwhich they had carried with them; but he inquired with eagerness\nwhat was become of their brother.\n\nThe brothers replied, \"We know nothing of him, and did not till\nnow hear of his departure in search of the bird, which we have\nbrought with us.\" The sultan dearly loved his youngest son; and\non hearing that his brothers had not seen him, beat his hands\ntogether, exclaiming, \"Alas! alas! there is no refuge or asylum\nbut with the Almighty, from whom we came, and to whom we must\nreturn.\"\n\nWe must now return to the youngest brother. When he was cast into\nthe reservoir he awoke, and finding himself in danger, exclaimed,\n\"I seek deliverance from that God who relieveth his servants from\nthe snares of the wicked.\" His prayer was heard, and he reached\nthe bottom of the reservoir unhurt; where he seated himself on a\nledge, when he heard persons talking. One said to another, \"Some\nson of man is near.\" \"Yes,\" replied the other, \"he is the\nyoungest son of our virtuous sultan; who, after having delivered\nhis two brothers from enchantment, hath been treacherously cast\ninto this reservoir.\" \"Well,\" answered the first voice, \"he may\neasily escape, for he has a ring upon his finger, which if he\nwill rub a genie will appear to him and perform whatever he may\ncommand.\"\n\nThe prince no sooner heard these words than he rubbed his hand\nover the ring, when a good genie appearing, said, \"Prince, what\nare thy commands?\"\n\n\"I command,\" replied the prince, \"that thou instantly prepare me\ntents, camels, domestics, guards, and every thing suitable to my\ncondition.\" \"All is ready,\" answered the genie; who, at the same\ninstant taking him from the ledge, conducted him into a splendid\nencampment, where the troops received him with acclamations. He\nordered signals of march to be sounded, and proceeded towards the\ncapital of his father. When he had arrived near the city, he\ncommanded his tents to be pitched on the plain. Immediately his\norders were obeyed, the tents were raised (a most magnificent one\nfor himself), before which the servants raised a gorgeous awning,\nand sprinkled water to lay the dust. The cooks lighted their\nfires, and a great smoke ascended, which filled the plain.\n\nThe inhabitants of the city were astonished at the approach of\nthe army, and when they saw the encampment pitched, supposed it\nto be that of a powerful enemy preparing for assaulting them.\nIntelligence of this unexpected host was conveyed to the sultan;\nwho, on hearing it, instead of alarm, felt a pleasure which he\ncould not account for, and said, \"Gracious Allah! my heart is\nfilled with delight; but why I know not.\" Immediately he\ncommanded his suite to attend, and repaired to the encampment of\nhis son, to whom he was introduced; but the prince being habited\nvery richly, and differently from what he had seen him in, was\nnot known by the sultan.\n\nThe prince received his father with the honours due to his rank,\nand when they were seated, and had entered into conversation,\nsaid, \"What is become of thy youngest son?\" The words were\nscarcely uttered, when the old sultan fell fainting to the earth.\nOn his recovery, he exclaimed, \"Alas! my son's imprudence led him\nto travel, and he has fallen a prey to the beasts of the forest.\"\n\"Be comforted,\" replied the prince; \"the disasters of fortune\nhave not reached thy son, for he is alive and in health.\" \"Is it\npossible?\" cried the sultan; \"ah! tell me where I shall find\nhim!\" \"He is before thee,\" replied the prince: upon which, the\nsultan looking more closely, knew him, fell upon his neck, wept,\nand sunk to the earth overpowered with ecstacy.\n\nWhen the sultan had recovered, he desired his son to relate his\nadventures, which he did from first to last. Just as he had\nfinished the elder brothers arrived, and seeing him in such\nsplendour, hung down their heads, abashed and unable to speak;\nbut yet more envious than ever. The old sultan would have put\nthem to death for their treachery, but the youngest prince said,\n\"Let us leave them to the Almighty, for whoever commits sin will\nmeet its punishment in himself.\"\n\nWhen the husbandman had concluded the above story, the sultan was\nso highly pleased that he presented him with a large sum of\nmoney, and a beautiful slave, inquiring at the same time if he\ncould divert him with another story, to which he replied in the\naffirmative.\n\nOn another night, when the sultan and the countryman had sat down\nto converse, the former desired him to relate some ancient story,\nwhen the latter began as follows.\n\n\n\n\n          Story of a Sultan of Yemen and his three Sons.\n\n\n\nIt has been related, that in the kingdom of Yemen there was a\nsultan who had three sons, two of whom were born of the same\nmother, and the third of another wife, with whom becoming\ndisgusted from some caprice, and having degraded her to the\nstation of a domestic, he suffered her and her son to live\nunnoticed among the servants of the haram. The two former, one\nday, addressed their father, requesting his permission to hunt:\nupon which he presented them each with a horse of true blood,\nrichly caparisoned, and ordered proper domestics to attend them\nto the chase.\n\nWhen they had departed, the unfortunate youngest brother repaired\nto his unhappy mother, and expressed his wishes to enjoy, like\nthe elder princes, the pleasures of the field. \"My son,\" replied\nshe, \"it is not in my power to procure thee a horse or other\nnecessaries.\" Upon this he wept bitterly; when she gave him some\nof her silver ornaments, which he took, and having sold them,\nwith the price purchased a foundered steed. Having mounted it,\nand provided himself with some bread, he followed the track of\nhis brothers for two days, but on the third lost his way. After\nwandering two days more he beheld upon the plain a string of\nemeralds and pearls, which shone with great lustre. Having taken\nit up, he wreathed it round his turban, and returned homewards\nexulting in his prize; but when he had arrived near the city his\nbrothers met him, pulled him from his horse, beat him, and forced\nit from him. He excelled them both in prowess and vigour, but he\nwas fearful of the sultan's displeasure, and his mother's safety,\nshould he punish his insulters. He therefore submitted to the\nindignity and loss, and retired.\n\nThe two cowardly princes entered the palace, and presented the\nstring of jewels to the sultan; who, after admiring it, said, \"I\nshall not rest satisfied till the bird arrives to whom this\ncertainly must have belonged:\" upon which the brothers replied,\n\"We will travel in search of it, and bring it to our august\nfather and sultan.\"\n\nPreparations being made, the brothers departed, and the youngest\nprince having mounted his lame steed followed them. After three\ndays' journey he reached an arid desert, which having passed over\nby great exertion, he arrived almost exhausted at a city; which\non entering he found resounding with the shrieks of lamentation\nand woe. At length he met with a venerable old man, to whom\nhaving made a respectful salute, he inquired of him the cause of\nsuch universal mourning. \"My son,\" replied the old man, \"on a\ncertain day during the last forty-three years, a terrible monster\nhas appeared before our city, demanding a beautiful virgin to be\ndelivered up to him, threatening to destroy it in case of\nrefusal. Unable to defend ourselves, we have complied with his\ndemand, and the damsels of the city have drawn lots for the\ndreadful sacrifice; but this year the chance has fallen upon the\nbeautiful daughter of our sultan. This is the day of the\nmonster's usual arrival, and we are involved in universal\nlamentation for her unhappy fate.\"\n\nWhen the young prince heard the above, he, under the direction of\nthe old man, repaired to the place of the monster's resort,\nresolved to conquer him or die. Scarcely had he reached it, when\nthe princess approached it, splendidly habited, but with a\ndejected head, and drowned in tears. He made a respectful salute,\nwhich she returned, saying, \"Hasten, young man, from this spot,\nfor a monster will soon appear, to whom, by my unhappy fate, I am\ndestined. Should he discover thee, he will tear thee in pieces.\"\n\"Princess,\" replied he, \"I know the circumstance, and am resolved\nto become a ransom for thy beauty.\"\n\nThe prince had hardly uttered these words, when a column of dust\narose; from which with dreadful howlings and fury the monster\nissued, lashing his gigantic sides with his thick tail. The\nprincess shrieked, and wept in the agonies of fear; but the\nprince drawing his sabre, put himself in the way of the savage\nmonster; who, enraged, snorted fire from his wide nostrils, and\nmade a spring at the prince. The gallant youth with wonderful\nagility evaded his talons, and darting from side to side of the\nmonster, watched his opportunity, till rushing upon him, he cleft\nhis head asunder just between his eyes, when the huge creature\nfell down and growled his last in a tremendous roar.\n\nThe princess, on seeing the monster expire, ran to her deliverer,\nwiped the dust and sweat from his face with her veil, uttering\ngrateful thanks, to which he replied, \"Return to thy lamenting\nparents;\" but she would not, and said, \"My lord, and light of my\neyes, thou must be mine and I thine.\" \"That is perhaps\nimpossible,\" rejoined the prince; and hastening from her, he\nreturned to the city, where he took up his lodging in an obscure\ncorner. She now repaired to the palace. On her entrance, the\nsultan and her mother were astonished, and inquired in alarm the\ncause of her return; fearing that she had escaped from the\nmonster, who would in revenge destroy the city.\n\nThe princess related the story of her deliverance by a handsome\nyouth: upon which, the sultan, with his attendants, and most of\nthe inhabitants of the place, repaired to view the monster, whom\nthey found extended dead on the earth. The whole city was now\nfilled with grateful thanksgivings and universal rejoicing. The\nsultan, eager to shew his gratitude to the gallant youth, said to\nthe princess, \"Shouldst thou know thy deliverer wert thou to see\nhim again?\" \"Certainly!\" replied she; for love had impressed his\nimage on her mind too strongly to be ever erased.\n\nThe sultan, upon this, issued a proclamation, commanding every\nmale in the city to pass under the windows of his daughter's\napartment; which was done successively for three days; but she\ndid not recognize her beloved champion. The sultan then inquired\nif all the men of the city had obeyed his commands, and was\ninformed that all had done so, except a young man at a certain\nserai, who was a foreigner, and therefore had not attended. The\nsultan ordered him to appear; and he had no sooner approached the\nwindow than the princess threw down upon his head an embroidered\nhandkerchief, exclaiming, \"This is our deliverer from the fangs\nof the monster.\"\n\nThe sultan now ordered the young prince to be introduced to his\npresence, to which he advanced, making the obeisances customary\nto royal personages in a graceful manner. \"Art thou the destroyer\nof the monster?\" exclaimed the sultan. \"I am,\" answered the\nprince. \"Tell me how I can reward thee?\" replied the sultan. \"My\nrequest to God and your majesty,\" answered the prince, \"is, that\nthe princess thy daughter may be given me in marriage.\" \"Rather\nask me a portion of my treasures,\" rejoined the sultan. Upon\nthis, the officers of the court observed, that as he had saved\nthe princess from death, he was worthy of her; and the sultan at\nlength consenting, the marriage knot was tied. The young prince\nreceived his bride, and the nuptials were consummated. Towards\nthe close of night he arose, and having taken off her ring, put\nhis own in its room on her finger, and wrote upon the palm of her\nhand, \"I am called Alla ad Deen, the son of a potent sultan, who\nrules in Yemen; if thou canst come to me there, well; otherwise\nremain with thy father.\"\n\nWhen the prince had done as above related, he left his bride\nasleep, and quitting the palace and city, pursued his travels;\nduring which he married another wife, whom he had saved from an\nelephant in a similar way: he left her in the same manner as the\nfirst.\n\nWhen the prince had left his second wife, he proceeded in search\nof the bird to whom the string of emeralds and pearls had\nbelonged, and at length reached the city of its mistress, who was\ndaughter to the sultan, a very powerful monarch. Having entered\nthe capital, he walked through several streets, till at last he\nperceived a venerable old man, whose age seemed to be, at least,\nthat of a hundred years, sitting alone. He approached him, and\nhaving paid his respects, sat down, and entering into\nconversation, at length said, \"Canst thou, my uncle, afford me\nany information respecting a bird, whose chain is composed of\npearls and emeralds, or of its mistress?\"\n\nThe old man remained silent, involved in thought, for some\ninstants; after which, he said, \"My son, many sultans and princes\nhave wished to attain this bird and the princess, but failed in\nthe attempt; however, do thou procure seven lambs, kill them,\nflay and cut them up into halves. In the palace are eight courts,\nat the gates of seven of which are placed two hungry lions; and\nin the latter, where the princess resides, are stationed forty\nslaves. Go, and try thy fortune.\"\n\nThe prince having thanked the old man, took his leave, procured\nthe lambs, cut them up as directed, and towards midnight, when\nthe step of man had ceased from passing, repaired to the first\ngate of the palace, before which he beheld two monstrous lions,\ntheir eyes flaming like the mouth of a lighted oven. He cast\nbefore each half a lamb, and while they were devouring it passed\non. By the same stratagem he arrived safely into the eighth\ncourt: at the gate of which lay the forty slaves sunk in profound\nsleep. He entered cautiously, and beheld the princess in a\nmagnificent hall, reposing on a splendid bed; near which hung her\nbird in a cage of gold wire strung with valuable jewels. He\napproached gently, and wrote upon the palm of her hand, \"I am\nAlla ad Deen, son of a sultan of Yemen. I have seen thee\nsleeping, and taken away thy bird. Shouldst thou love me, or wish\nto recover thy favourite, come to my father's capital.\" He then\ndeparted from the palace, and having reached the plain, stopped\nto repose till morning.\n\nThe prince being refreshed, at day-light having invoked Allah to\nprotect him from discovery, travelled till sunset, when he\ndiscovered an Arab encampment, to which he repaired and requested\nshelter. His petition was readily attended to by the chief; who\nseeing him in possession of the bird, which he knew, said to\nhimself, \"This young man must be a favourite of heaven, or he\ncould not have obtained a prize for which so many potent sultans,\nprinces, and viziers, have vainly fallen sacrifices.\" He\nentertained him with hospitality, but asked no questions, and in\nthe morning dismissed him with prayers for his welfare, and a\npresent of a beautiful horse. Alla ad Deen having thanked his\ngenerous host took leave, and proceeded unceasingly till he\narrived within sight of his father's capital. On the plain he was\nagain overtaken by his two brothers, returning from their\nunsuccessful expedition, who seeing the bird and splendid cage in\nhis possession, dragged him suddenly from his horse, beat him\ncruelly, and left him. They entered the city, and presenting the\ncage to their father, framed an artful tale of danger and escapes\nthat they had undergone in procuring it; on hearing which, the\nsultan loaded them with caresses and praises, while the\nunfortunate Alla ad Deen retired bruised and melancholy to his\nunhappy mother.\n\nThe young prince informed his mother of his adventures,\ncomplained heavily of his loss, and expressed his resolves to be\nrevenged upon his envious brothers. She comforted him, entreated\nhim to be patient, and wait for the dispensations of Allah; who,\nin proper season, would shew his power in the revealment of\njustice. We now return to the princess who had lost her bird.\n\nWhen she awoke in the morning, and missed her bird, she was\nalarmed; but on perceiving what was written upon her palm still\nmore so. She shrieked aloud; her attendants ran in, and finding\nher in a frantic state, informed the sultan; who, anxious for her\nsafety, hastened to the apartment. The princess being somewhat\nrecovered, related the loss of her bird, shewed the writing on\nher hand, and declared that she would marry no one but him who\nhad seen her asleep. The sultan finding remonstrances vain,\nagreed to accompany his daughter in search of the prince, and\nissued orders for his army to prepare for a march to Yemen.\n\nWhen the troops were assembled, the sultan conducted his daughter\nto the camp, and on the day following marched; the princess with\nher ladies being conveyed in magnificent equipages. No halt was\nmade till the army arrived near the city, where Alia ad Deen had\ndelivered the daughter of its sultan by killing the elephant. A\nfriendly ambassador being dispatched to request permission to\nencamp and purchase a supply of provisions, he was honourably\nreceived, and the sultan of the city proceeded in great pomp to\nvisit his brother monarch, who then informed him of the object of\nhis expedition. This convinced the other sultan that the stealer\nof the bird must also have been the deliverer of his daughter,\nand he resolved to join in the search. Accordingly, after three\ndays of splendid entertainments and rejoicings, the two sultans,\nwith the two princesses, and their united forces, moved towards\nYemen. Their route lay through the capital, the daughter of whose\nsultan Alla ad Deen had saved from the fangs of the savage\nmonster.\n\nOn the arrival of the allies at this city an explanation similar\nto the last took place, and the third sultan resolved to\naccompany them in search of the husband of his daughter, who\nreadily agreed to join the other princesses. They marched; and on\nthe route the princess who had lost her bird was fully informed\nby the others of the beauty, prowess, and manly vigour of Alla ad\nDeen; which involved her more than ever in anxious impatience to\nmeet him. At length, by continued and uninterrupted movements,\nthe three sultans reached Yemen, and pitched their encampments\nabout sunset on a verdant plain well watered, near the capital.\n\nIt was with much dread and apprehension that the sultan of Yemen\nbeheld such a numerous host encamped so near his residence; but\nhe concealed his fears, and gave proper orders for securing it\nfrom surprise during the night. With the morning his alarms were\nremoved, as the allied sultans dispatched an ambassador with rich\npresents, assurances that they had no hostile intentions, and a\nrequest that he would honour them by a visit to their camp, and\nfurnish it with supplies. The sultan complied with the\ninvitation, and the suite being prepared, he proceeded, attended\nby all his courtiers in the highest magnificence, to the\nencampment; where he was received with due honours. At the\noutposts the three sultans met him, and after the usual greetings\nof ceremony conducted him to a splendid tent made of crimson\nvelvet, the fringes and ropes of which were composed of gold\nthreads, the pins of solid silver, and the lining of the richest\nsilver tissue, embroidered with flowers of raised work in silks\nof all colours, intermixed with foils and gold. It was covered\nwith superb carpets, and at the upper end on a platform spread\nwith gold brocade were placed four stools, the coverings of\nwhich, and the cushions, were magnificent beyond description,\nbeing made of Persian velvet, fringed and flowered with costly\npearls.\n\nWhen the four sultans were seated, and some conversation had\ntaken place, in which the latter was informed of the occasion of\nthe others having marched into his country, the cloth was spread,\nand a magnificent entertainment served up in dishes of agate,\ncrystal, and gold. The basins and ewers for washing were of pure\ngold set with jewels. Such was the richness of every thing, that\nthe sultan with difficulty refrained from shewing his surprise,\nand inwardly exclaimed, \"By Allah, till now I never have beheld\nsuch a profusion of splendour, elegance, and valuable furniture!\"\nWhen the meal was ended, coffee, various sorts of confections,\nand sherbets were brought in; after which the company conversed.\nThe three sultans inquired of their royal guest if he had any\nchildren, to which he replied that he had two sons.\n\nThe sultans then requested that he would send for them: upon\nwhich, their father dispatched a messenger to summon them to his\npresence. They repaired to the camp, mounted on chargers richly\ncaparisoned, and most splendidly dressed. On their entering the\ntent, the princesses, who were seated in a recess concealed from\nview by blinds of gold wire, gazed eagerly at them; and she who\nhad lost her bird inquired of the other two if either of them was\ntheir husband. They replied in the negative, remarking that he\nwas of personal beauty, and dignified appearance, far superior to\nthese princes. The three sultans, also, questioned their\ndaughters on the subject, and received similar answers.\n\nThe sultans, upon this, inquired of the father of the princes if\nhe had any other sons; to which he replied that he had one; but\nthat he had long rejected him, and also his mother, from notice;\nand that they lived among the domestics of the palace. The\nsultans entreated to see him, and he was introduced, but in a\nmean habit. The two princesses whom he had delivered from the\nmonsters and married immediately recognized him, and exclaimed\ntogether, \"This is truly our beloved husband!\" He was then\nembraced by the sultans, and admitted to his wives; who fell upon\nhis neck in transports of joy and rapture, kissing him between\nhis eyes, while the princess who had lost the bird prostrated\nherself before him, covered with a veil, and kissed his hand.\n\nAfter this scene the young prince returned to his father, and the\nother sultans, who received him respectfully, and seated him by\nthem, at which the father was astonished; but more so, when,\nturning to his brothers, he addressed them, saying, \"Which of you\nfirst found the string of emeralds and pearls?\" To this they made\nno reply: when he continued, \"Who of you killed the monster,\ndestroyed the elephant, or, fortifying his mind, dared to enter\nthe palace of this sultan, and bring away the cage with the bird?\nWhen you both, coward-like, rushed upon me, robbed me of my\nprizes, and wounded me, I could easily have overcome you; but I\nfelt that there was a season appointed by Providence for justice\nupon you and my wretched father, who rejected my mother and\nmyself, depriving us of our just claims.\" Having thus spoken, he\ndrew his sabre, and rushing upon the two guilty princes struck\nthem dead, each at one blow. He would, in his rage, have attacked\nhis father; but the sultans prevented him, and having reconciled\nthem, the old sultan promised to leave him his heir, and to\nrestore his mother to her former rank and consequence. His\nnuptials with the third princess were then celebrated; and their\nfathers, after participating for forty days in the magnificent\nentertainments given on the occasion, took leave, and returned to\ntheir several kingdoms. The old sultan finding himself, from age,\nincapable of the cares of government, resigned the throne to his\nson, whose authority was gladly submitted to by the people, who\nadmired his prowess and gallantry.\n\nSome time after his accession to the kingdom, attended only by\nsome select courtiers, and without the cumbrous appendages of\nroyalty, he left his capital upon a hunting excursion. In the\ncourse of the sport, passing over a desert plain, he came to a\nspot where was the opening of a cave, into which he entered, and\nobserved domestic utensils and other marks of its being\ninhabited; but no one was then within it.\n\nThe curiosity of the sultan being excited, he resolved to wait\nuntil the owners of the cave should appear, and cautioned his\nattendants not to mention his rank. He had not sat long, when a\nman was seen advancing with a load of provisions and two skins of\nwater. On his coming to the mouth of the cave, the sultan\naddressed him, saying, \"Whence comest thou, where art thou going,\nand what dost thou carry?\" \"I am,\" replied the man, \"one of three\ncompanions, who inhabit this cave, having fled from our city to\navoid imprisonment, and every ten days one of us goes to purchase\nprovisions: to-day was my turn, and my friends will be here\npresently.\" \"What was the cause of your flight?\" rejoined the\nsultan. \"As to that,\" answered the man, \"it can only be\ncommunicated by the relation of our adventures, which are\ncurious, and if you wish to hear them, stay with us to-night, and\nwe will each, in our turn, relate his own story.\"\n\nThe sultan upon this, said to himself, \"I will not move from this\nspot until I have heard their adventures;\" and immediately\ndispatched his attendants, excepting a few, with orders to bring\nfrom the city some necessaries for the night. \"For,\" thought he,\n\"hearing these stories will be pleasanter than hunting, as they\nmay, perhaps, inform my mind.\" He remained in the cave with his\nfew followers; and soon after arrived the two other inmates, who\nwere succeeded by the sultan's messengers with the requisites for\na substantial repast, of which all partook without ceremony. When\nit was finished, the sultan desired the owners of the cave to\nrelate their adventures; and they replied, \"To hear is to obey:\"\nthe first beginning as follows.\n\n\n\n\n             Story of the First Sharper in the Cave.\n\n\n\nMy father died when I was a youth, leaving my mother and myself\nwith little property, but an old she-goat, which we sold, and\nwith the price bought a calf, and nourished her as well as we\ncould for a whole year; when my mother desired me to go and\ndispose of her in the market. Accordingly I went, and soon\nperceived that there was not a fatter or finer beast in the\nmarket. The company of butchers, composed of forty persons, fixed\ntheir eyes upon the calf, and supposing me an ignorant lad,\nresolved to have her for little or nothing, and feast themselves\nupon her flesh. After concerting among themselves, one of them\ncoming up, said, \"My lad, dost thou mean to sell this she-goat?\"\n\"Goat!\" replied I, \"it is a calf.\" \"Nay,\" answered he, \"surely\nthou must be blind or under enchantment; but, old as the goat is,\nif thou wilt sell it, I will give thee a koorsh for her.\" I\nangrily refused, and he went away; when presently up came\nanother; and, in short, in regular succession the whole forty,\nthe last of whom was the chief of the butchers. I perceived the\nconnivance to cheat me, and resolving to be revenged, said, \"I am\nconvinced I am deceived, so you shall have the goat, if such she\nis, for the koorsh, provided you let me have her tail.\" This was\nagreed to, and it being cut off, I delivered my calf to the chief\nof the butchers, received the money, and returned home.\n\nOn my arrival at home, my mother asked if I had sold the calf; to\nwhich I replied, \"Yes, for a koorsh, and her tail into the\nbargain.\" She thought me stupid or mad, and inquired what I would\ndo with the latter. I answered, \"I will be amply revenged on the\nsharpers, who pretended that my calf was a she-goat, and force\nfrom them, at least, a thousand times the price they gave me.\"\nAfter this, I skinned the tail, cut the leather into thongs, and\ntwisted them into a whip with hard thick knots. I then disguised\nmyself in female attire, taking pains to make myself look as\nhandsome as possible with the assistance of my mother, who put\nsoorma into my eyelids, and arranged my eyebrows, stained my\nhands with hinna, and directed me how to ogle and smile. In\nshort, as I was then a beardless lad, and reckoned comely, I\nappeared as a very desirable maiden in my disguise.\n\nOn my arrival at the house of the chief of the butchers, I found\nhim sitting with his companions in the court. The whole of my\ncalf had been cooked in various ways, and they were just going to\nspread the cloth and feast upon it. On my entrance I made a\nprofound salutation: upon which they all rose up to return it,\nand having treated me welcomely, whispered one to another,\nsaying, \"By Allah, this will be a night of glorious festivity,\nillumined by so much beauty! however, our chief must have the\npreference, this night shall be his; after which we will all cast\nlots for his turn of enjoyment.\"\n\nWhen we had feasted on my calf, and the night was far advanced,\nthe butchers took leave, departed to their homes, and I remained\nalone with the chief, who began to entertain me with amusing\nconversation. Observing a rope hanging from the ceiling of an\napartment, I, as if ignorant of its purpose, inquired the use of\nit; when the venerable chief of the butchers informed me it was\nfor suspending animals to cut up; also, occasionally his\ndependants, whose crimes required the punishment of flogging.\nUpon this I expressed a great desire to be tied with the rope,\ndrawn up, and swung for amusement. \"My dear lady,\" replied he,\n\"the cord will hurt thy delicate skin; but thou shall put it\nround me, draw me up, and see the use without injuring thyself.\"\n\nI consented to the wish of the chief butcher, placed the cord\nunder his arms, and drew him up till the ends of his toes\nscarcely touched the ground. I then secured the rope, and for\nsome moments kept running playfully round him, and tickling his\nsides, which made him laugh with delight. At length, tired of his\nposture, he desired me to release him; but I refused, saying, \"My\ndear chief, I have not yet finished my amusement;\" after which I\ntore the clothes from his back, as if in merriment. When I had\ndone this, I pulled out my whip, which was well knotted, saying,\n\"This is the tail of a she-goat, and not of a calf.\" The butcher\nnow began to be somewhat alarmed, asking me who I was, and whence\nI came? to which I replied, \"I am the owner of the fat calf, of\nwhich thou and thy villanous companions so rascally cheated me.\"\nI then bared my arm to my elbow, and so belaboured his back and\nsides with my whip that he roared in agony; nor did I leave off\ntill his skin was completely flayed, and he fainted from the\npain. After this I searched the apartment, found a bag containing\nthree hundred deenars, some handsome dresses, and other valuable\narticles, all of which I bundled up, and carried off; leaving the\nchief of the butchers, suspended, to his fate. When I had reached\nhome, I gave my prize to my mother, saying, \"This is only part of\nthe value of my calf, which I have just received of the\npurchaser.\"\n\nEarly in the morning the butchers repaired, as usual, to the\nresidence of their chief, and finding the door of the court-yard\nlocked, joked one with another, saying, \"Our old gentleman has\nbeen so fatigued with his happiness that he sleeps longer than\nordinary.\" They waited till near noon, when they called out for\nadmittance; but receiving no answer, became apprehensive of some\ndisaster, and forcing the door, found their chief suspended,\nalmost lifeless, and his scars dropping blood. To their inquiries\ninto the cause of his doleful situation, he replied, \"That\npretended vixen was no woman, but a brawny youth, the owner of\nthe calf; who, in return for our roguery, has flogged me thus,\nand carried off all he could find in my chamber worth having.\"\nThe butchers vowed revenge, saying, \"We will seize and put him to\ndeath;\" but their chief requested them for the present to be\npatient, and carry him to a warm bath, that he might wash and get\nhis wounds dressed.\n\nI observed the chief butcher enter the bathing house alone, while\nhis followers waited at the gate: upon which I went to a\nslaughter-house, poured over my back the blood of a sheep, dabbed\nit with plaisters of cotton, and leaning on a crutch, as if in\nagony of pain, repaired to the bath. At first the butchers\nrefused me admittance, saying their chief was within; but on my\nentreating their compassion for my miserable condition, they at\nlength permitted me to enter. Passing through the different\nrooms, I came to the bath, in which I found the unfortunate chief\nwashing his scars. I pulled out my whip, and having said to him,\n\"Shekh, this is the tail of my calf!\" flogged him again so\nseverely that he fainted; after which I made my escape by another\nentrance to the hummaum, which opened into a different street.\n\nThe butchers growing impatient at the long stay of their chief in\nthe bath, at length entered, and found him in extreme agony. He\ninformed them of this second revenge of the owner of the calf,\nand requested that he would take him into the country, pitch a\ntent for his reception, and remain to guard him till he should be\ncured of his wounds. They did so; but I watched their motions,\nand disguising myself, repaired in the evening towards the tent.\nHere I found a Bedouin Arab, whom I bribed with a piece of gold\nto cry out, \"I am the owner of the calf, and will have the life\nof your chief!\" cautioning him at the same time, after he had so\nexclaimed, to make his escape as quickly as possible from the\nbutchers, who would pursue him. \"I shall not heed them,\" replied\nhe, \"though they may be mounted on the fleetest coursers.\"\n\nHaving said this, the Bedouin went up close to the tents, bawling\nout vociferously, as I had directed him: upon which all the\nbutchers started up and pursued him, but in vain, to a great\ndistance. I then entered the tent in which the chief was reposing\nalone, and pulling out my whip, once more flogged him till he\nroared with agony. When I was tired I bundled up such articles as\nI could lay my hands on; and returning home, presented them to my\nmother, saying, \"Here is the balance of the price of our calf.\"\n\nThe butchers having attempted to overtake the Bedouin, till they\nwere wearied with running, but in vain, returned to their chief,\nwhom they found in a fainting fit from the pain of his wounds.\nHaving sprinkled water on his face, they recovered him so far\nthat he was able to inform them of what had happened; and to\nrequest them to convey him once more to his own house, to give\nout that he was dead of his wounds, and make a mock funeral;\nwhen, possibly, the owner of the calf, believing him departed\nthis life, might cease to torment him.\n\nThe butchers obeyed the commands of their chief, and reporting\nthat he was dead, laid him in a litter, and marched in mournful\nprocession towards the burying ground, followed by a great\nconcourse of people. Mixing with the crowd, in disguise, I at\nlength stooped under the litter, and giving the chief, who lay\nextended in a winding sheet, a smart poke with a pointed stick,\nup he jumped, to the astonishment of the beholders; who cried\nout, \"A miracle! a miracle! the dead is raised to life!\" while I\nmade my escape in the throng; but being fearful that the many\ntricks I had played, especially this last, might excite inquiry,\nand lead to a discovery, I fled from the city, and resolved to\nremain in this cave till curiosity should subside.\n\nThe sultan exclaimed, \"These adventures are surprising;\" when the\nsecond inhabitant of the cave said, \"My lord, my story is much\nmore wonderful than the last; for I contrived not only to be dead\nand buried, but to escape from the tomb.\" \"Possibly,\" said the\nsultan, \"thy adventures may have been stranger than those of this\nman; but if any of you are acquainted with the memoirs of ancient\nmonarchs, I could wish you to relate them; however, at present, I\nmust take you with me to the palace, that I may make you\nwelcome.\" When the men heard this proposition, they were alarmed,\nand cried out, \"What, my lord, would you carry us to the city\nfrom which we have escaped to save our lives?\" \"Fear not,\"\nreplied he, \"I am the sultan, and was amusing myself with hunting\nwhen I chanced to discover your cave.\" They bowed themselves\nbefore him, and exclaimed, \"To hear is to obey;\" after which they\nattended him to the city. On their arrival, the sultan ordered\nthem proper apartments and suitable entertainment, and invested\neach of them with a rich habit. For some days they remained\nenjoying themselves; when, at length, one evening the sultan\ncommanded them to his presence, and requested a narrative, when\none of them related the following story.\n\n\n\n\n                 History of the Sultan of Hind.\n\n\n\nIn ancient days there lived a sultan of Hind, than whom no prince\nof the age was greater in extent of territory, riches, or force;\nbut Heaven had not allotted to him offspring, either male or\nfemale: on which account he was involved in sorrow. One morning,\nbeing even more melancholy than usual, he put on a red habit, and\nrepaired to his divan; when his vizier, alarmed at the robes of\nmourning, said, \"What can have occasioned my lord to put on this\ngloomy habit?\" \"Alas!\" replied the sultan, \"my soul is this\nmorning overclouded with melancholy.\" \"Repair then to the\ntreasury,\" said the vizier, \"and view thy wealth; as, perhaps,\nthe lustre of gold, and the brilliant sparkling of jewels, may\namuse thy senses and disperse thy sorrow.\" \"Vizier,\" answered the\nsultan, \"this world to me is all vanity; I regard nothing but the\ncontemplation of the Deity: yet how can I be relieved from\nmelancholy, since I have lived to this age and he has not blessed\nme with children, either sons or daughters, who are the ornaments\nof manhood in this world?\"\n\nThe sultan had scarcely ceased speaking, when a human figure of a\ndusky hue appeared before him, and said, \"My sovereign, here is a\nconfection left me by my ancestors, with an assurance, that\nwhoever might eat of it would have offspring.\" The sultan eagerly\ntook the confection, and by the blessing of Allah, one of the\nladies of his haram conceived that very night. When her pregnancy\nwas made known to him, the sultan was overjoyed, distributed\nlarge sums in charity to the poor, and every day comforted the\ndistressed by his bounty.\n\nWhen the sultana had gone her full time, she was delivered of a\nson beautiful in aspect, and of graceful person; at which the\nsultan became overjoyed, and on that day set apart one half of\nhis treasures for the use of the infant prince, who was intrusted\nto the charge of experienced nurses. After he had thrived\nsufficiently at the breast he was weaned, and at six years of age\nput under the care of learned tutors, who taught him to write, to\nread the Koran, and instructed him in the other several branches\nof literature. When he had completed his twelfth year, he was\naccomplished in horsemanship, archery, and throwing the lance,\ntill at length he became a distinguished cavalier, and excelled\nthe most celebrated equestrians.\n\nThe young prince being on a certain day hunting in the vicinity\nof the capital, there suddenly appeared soaring and wheeling in\nthe air a bird, whose plumage was of the most beautiful and\nglossy green. The prince let fly an arrow, but without effect,\nand the bird suddenly disappeared. It was in vain that he turned\nhis eye to all quarters, in hopes of again discovering his\nwished-for prey, for the bird had flown out of sight, and the\nprince after searching in all directions till the close of day,\nreturned vexed and much disappointed to his father's palace. On\nhis entrance, the sultan and sultana perceiving his countenance\ngloomy, inquired the cause of his melancholy, when he informed\nthem of the bird: upon which, they said, \"Dear son, the creatures\nof the Almighty are innumerably diversified; and, doubtless,\nthere are many birds as beautiful, and wonderfully more so than\nthis, whose escape you so much regret.\" \"It may be so,\" replied\nthe prince; \"but unless I shall be able to take this, which has\nso captivated my fancy, I will abstain from food.\"\n\nOn the following morning the prince repaired again to the chase,\nand having reached the same spot on the plain, to his great joy\nbeheld the green bird. Having taken a cautious aim, he let fly an\narrow; but she evaded it, and soared before him in the air. The\nprince spurred his courser and followed, keeping his desired prey\nin sight unceasingly till sunset; when both himself and his horse\nbeing exhausted he gave up the pursuit, and returned towards the\ncity. As he was riding slowly, and almost fainting with hunger\nand fatigue, there met him a venerable looking personage, who\nsaid, \"Prince, both thyself and thy charger seem exhausted; what\ncan have been the cause of such over exercise?\" \"Father,\"\nanswered the prince, \"I have been pursuing, but in vain, a\nbeautiful green bird, on which I had set my mind.\" \"Son,\" replied\nthe sage, \"if thou wert to follow it for a whole year's journey,\nthy pursuit would be useless; for thou couldst never take it.\nThis bird comes from a city in the country of Kafoor, in which\nare most delightful gardens abounding in such birds as this, and\nmany other species still more beautiful, some of which sing\nenchantingly, and others talk like human beings; but, alas thou\ncanst never reach that happy spot. Give up then all thoughts of\nthe bird, and seek some other object for a favourite that thou\nmayst enjoy repose, and no longer vex thyself for\nimpossibilities.\" When the prince heard this from the old man, he\nexclaimed, \"By Allah! nothing shall prevent me from visiting the\ncharming country thou hast mentioned;\" and leaving the sage, he\nrode homewards, his mind wholly taken up in meditating on the\nland of Kafoor.\n\nWhen the prince had reached the palace, the sultan perceiving his\ndisordered state, inquired the adventures of the day; and being\ninformed of his fruitless pursuit, and the remarks of the old\nman, said, \"My son, discharge this idle chimera from thy mind,\nnor perplex thyself longer, since he who wishes for an\nimpossibility may pine himself to death, but can never gain his\ndesires: calm then thy soul, nor vex thyself longer in vain.\" \"By\nAllah!\" answered the prince, \"my soul, O my father, is captivated\nwith the desire of possessing this bird more strongly than ever,\nfrom the words of the venerable old man; nor is it possible I can\nenjoy repose till I have travelled to the island of Kafoor, and\nbeheld the gardens containing such a wonderful feathered\nspecies.\" \"Alas! my dear son,\" exclaimed the sultan, \"think how\nafflicting must be to myself and thy mother thy absence from our\nsight, and for our sakes give up such a fruitless expedition.\"\n\nThe prince, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his father,\ncontinued obstinate, and said, \"My travelling is inevitable:\ngrant me then permission, or I will put myself to death.\" \"If\nso,\" exclaimed the affrighted sultan, \"there is no refuge or help\nbut from the omnipotent Allah: well has the proverb remarked,\nthat the nestling would not be restrained from the air, when\nsuddenly the raven pounced upon it and bore it away. Heaven guard\nmy son from the consequences of his imprudence.\" Having said\nthus, the sultan commanded preparations for the requisites of\ntravel, and ordered a force to accompany the headstrong prince;\nwho, having taken leave of his afflicted parents, began his\nexpedition towards the country of Kafoor.\n\nThe prince pursued his journey without any extraordinary\nadventure for a whole month, and at the expiration of it arrived\nat a spot from which branched out three roads. At the junction of\nthem was erected a lofty pyramid, each face fronting one of the\nroads. On one face was inscribed, \"This is named the Path of\nSafety:\" on the second, \"This is called the Way of Repentance:\"\nand on the third, \"Whoever follows this road will not probably\nreturn.\" \"I will pursue this last,\" said the prince to himself,\nand accordingly striking into it, proceeded onwards for twenty\ndays, at the end of which he encamped near a desolated city,\ncrumbling into ruin, wholly destitute of inhabitants. He\ncommanded his attendants, as no provisions could be found in the\ncity, to kill five sheep of the flocks he had brought with him,\nand dress them for their refreshment in various ways. When all\nwere ready, and the simmaut was spread out, having performed his\nablutions, he sat down with his principal followers.\n\nThe prince and his company had scarcely seated themselves, when,\nlo! there advanced from the desolated city a Genie, whom the\nprince seeing, stood up, and thus accosted, \"Hail! and welcome to\nthe sovereign of the Aoon, friendly to his brethren, and ruler of\nthis extensive desert.\" He then addressed him, flatteringly, in\nfluent language and eloquent expression. The hair of this Oone\nGenie hung shaggily over his eyes, and flowed in matted tresses\nupon his shoulders. The prince took out a pair of scissors, and\nhaving condescendingly cut his hair, pared his nails, and washed\nhim, seated him at the cloth, and placed before him the dish\ndressed peculiarly for himself.\n\nThe Oone ate, and was delighted with the affability of the\nprince, whom he addressed, saying, \"By Allah, O Mahummud, son of\na sultan! I am doomed to death by thy arrival here; but what, my\nlord, was thy object in coming?\" Upon this the prince informed\nhim of his having seen the bird, his vain attempts to take her,\nthe account he had received from the old man, and his resolution,\nin consequence of his information, to penetrate to the kingdom of\nKafoor, to visit the gardens, and bring away some of the\nwonderful birds.\n\nWhen the Oone heard this, he said, \"O son of a sultan, that\ncountry to thee is impenetrable, thou canst not reach it; for the\ndistance from hence is a journey of three hundred years to the\nmost laborious traveller; how then canst thou hope to arrive at\nit, much more return? But, my son, the good old proverb remarks,\nthat kindness should be returned with kindness, and evil with\nevil, and that none are so cruel or so benevolent as the\ninhabitants of the desert. As thou hast treated me kindly, so,\nGod willing, shalt thou have a return for thy goodness; but thou\nmust leave here thy attendants and thy effects. Thou and I only\nwill go together, and I will accomplish thy wish in gratitude for\nwhat thou hast done for me.\" The prince immediately retired from\nhis encampment with the Oone, who said, \"Mount upon my\nshoulders.\"\n\nThe prince obeyed the commands of the Oone, who having first\nstopped his rider's ears with cotton, mounted into the air, and\nafter soaring for some hours descended; when the prince found\nhimself in the island of Kafoor, and near the desired garden.\nHaving alighted from the shoulders of the generous Oone, he\nexamined the spot, beheld groves, blooming shrubs, flowers\nbordering clear streams, and beautiful birds chanting various\nmelodies. The Oone said, \"Behold the object, of thy search, enter\nthe garden!\" Upon this the prince left him, passed the gate,\nwhich was open, and entered. He walked on every quarter, and\ndepending from the branches of flowering shrubs saw cages holding\na variety of beautiful birds, two birds in each cage.\n\nThe prince took down a large cage, and having examined the birds,\nplaced in it such as pleased him to the number of six, with which\nhe was preparing to leave the garden; when at the gate a watchman\nmet him, who cried out loudly, \"A robber! a robber!\" Instantly\nnumerous guards rushing out, seized the prince, bound, and\ncarried him before the sultan, to whom they complained, saying,\n\"We found in the garden this young man, carrying off a cage with\nsix birds. He must certainly be a robber.\"\n\nThe sultan addressed the prince, saying, \"What induced thee,\nyouthful stranger, to violate my property, trespass on the\ngarden, and attempt stealing these birds?\" The prince returned no\nanswer: upon which the sultan exclaimed, \"Young man, thou art\nverging upon death; yet still, if thy soul is bent upon having\nthese birds, bring me from the Black Island some bunches of\ngrapes, which are composed of emeralds and diamonds, and I will\ngive thee six birds in addition to those thou hast stolen.\"\nHaving said this, the sultan released the prince, who repaired to\nhis generous friend the Oone, whom he informed of the unlucky\nconclusion of his adventure. \"Our task is an easy one,\" answered\nthe Oone; \"mount upon my shoulders.\"\n\nThe prince did as he was desired, and after two hours flight the\nOone descended and alighted, when the prince found himself in the\nBlack Island. He immediately advanced towards the garden in which\nwas the fruit composed of emeralds and diamonds. On the way a\nmonster met him of terrible appearance.\n\nThe monster sprung at the prince, who, with surprising agility,\ndrawing his sword, wounded the furious beast on the forehead with\nsuch effect, that, uttering a dreadful groan, he fell dead at his\nfeet. It happened, by divine decree, that the sultan's daughter\nlooking from a window of the haram, beheld the combat, and,\nstricken with the manly beauty and prowess of the prince,\nexclaimed, \"Who can withstand thy courage, or who resist thy all\nconquering charms?\" But he did not see the princess, or hear her\napplause.\n\nThe prince, after having slain the monster, proceeded to the\ngarden, the gate of which he found open, and on entering,\nperceived variety of artificial trees composed of precious\nstones. Among them was one resembling the vine, the fruits of\nwhich were of emeralds and diamonds. He plucked off six bunches,\nand was quitting the garden when a sentinel met him; who, being\nalarmed, cried out, \"A robber! a robber!\" The guards rushed out,\nand having bound him, carried him before the sultan, saying, \"My\nlord, we found this youth stealing the fruit from the garden of\njewels.\"\n\nThe sultan was enraged, and on the point of ordering him to be\nput to death, when a number of persons entered, crying out, \"Good\ntidings to our sovereign.\" \"On what account?\" exclaimed the\nsultan. \"The horrible monster,\" replied they, \"who used annually\nto appear and devour our sons and daughters, we have just now\nfound dead and cloven in two.\" The sultan was so rejoiced at this\nhappy event, that he refrained from the blood of the prince, and\nexclaimed, \"Whoever has destroyed this monster let him come to\nme, and I swear by Allah, who has invested me with royalty, that\nI will give him my daughter in marriage; and whatever else he may\ndesire, even to the half of my empire.\"\n\nUpon the sultan's declaration being proclaimed, several young men\nappeared, pretending that they had killed the monster, and gave\nvarious accounts of the combat, which made the prince smile. \"By\nAllah! it is strange,\" said the sultan, \"that a youth in such a\nperilous situation should be so unconcerned as to smile.\" While\nthe sultan was ruminating on this occurrence, a eunuch entered\nfrom the haram, requesting that he would come and speak to the\nprincess his daughter, who had business of importance to\ncommunicate; upon which the sultan arose, and retired from the\nhall of audience.\n\nWhen the sultan had entered the princess's apartment, he said,\n\"What can have happened which has occasioned you to send for me\nso suddenly?\" She replied, \"Is it thy wish to know who slew the\nmonster, and to reward the courageous hero?\" \"By Allah,\" answered\nthe sultan, \"who created subjects and their sovereigns, if I can\ndiscover him, my first offer to him shall be to espouse thee,\nwhatever be his condition, or though he dwell in the most distant\nregion.\" The princess rejoined, \"No one slew the monster but the\nyouth who entered the garden of gems, and was bearing off the\nfruit, whom thou wast just now on the point of putting to death.\"\n\nWhen the sultan heard the above from his daughter, he returned to\nthe divan, and calling the prince before him, said, \"Young man, I\ngrant thee thy pardon; art thou he who destroyed the monster?\" \"I\nam,\" replied the prince. The sultan would instantly have summoned\nthe cauzee to perform the espousals; but the prince said, \"I have\na friend to consult; permit me to retire, and I will soon\nreturn.\" The sultan consented, saying, \"Thy request is but\nreasonable; but come back quickly.\" The prince having repaired to\nhis friend the Oone, informed him of what had happened to him,\nand of the offer of the sultan's daughter in marriage: upon which\nthe Oone said, \"Accept the princess; but on condition that, if\nyou marry her, you shall be allowed to carry her to your own\nkingdom.\" The prince having returned to the sultan, proposed his\nterms, which were readily agreed to, and the nuptials were\ncelebrated with the most splendid magnificence. After abiding in\nthe palace of the sultan for a month and three days, he requested\npermission to depart with his bride towards his own country,\nwhich was granted.\n\nOn the departure of the prince, his father-in-law presented him\nwith a hundred bunches of the grapes composed of emeralds and\ndiamonds, and he repaired to his friend the Oone; who, having\nfirst stopped their ears with cotton, mounted them upon his\nshoulders, and soaring into the air, after two hours descended\nnear the capital of the island of Kafoor. The prince, taking four\nbunches of the jewelled fruit, hastened to the palace, and laid\nthem before the sultan; who, in astonishment, exclaimed, \"Surely,\nthis young stranger must be a powerful magician, or how could he\nhave travelled the distance of three hundred years' journey, and\nhave accomplished his purpose in less time than three months!\nSuch an action is truly miraculous. Hast thou, indeed, young\nman,\" said the sultan, \"been at the Black Island?\" \"I have,\"\nanswered the prince. \"Describe it to me,\" replied the sultan,\n\"its appearance, its buildings, its gardens, and rivers.\" The\nprince having answered all his queries, the sultan said, \"Noble\nyouth, you may assuredly ask of me whatever you wish!\" \"I want\nnothing but the birds,\" rejoined the prince. \"They are thine,\"\nreturned the sultan; \"but annually on a certain day, and this is\nit, there descends from yonder mountain a monstrous vulture,\nwhich tears in pieces our men, women, and children; and having\nflown away with them in his gigantic talons devours their flesh.\nI have a beautiful daughter, whom, if thou canst overcome this\ncalamitous monster, I will give to thee in marriage.\"\n\nThe prince replied, \"I will consult my friend;\" and then returned\nto the Oone, whom he informed of the offer; but he had scarcely\ndone speaking, when, lo! the vulture appeared: upon which the\nOone, ascending into the air, attacked the monster, and after a\nfierce combat, tore him into halves; after which he descended to\nthe prince, and said, \"Go to the sultan, and acquaint him that\nhis destructive enemy is slain.\"\n\nThe prince did as he was directed: upon which the sultan with his\ntrain, and an immense crowd of the inhabitants of the city, came\nout on horseback, and beheld the monstrous vulture, stretched\ndead on the ground, torn in halves. The sultan then conducted the\nprince of Hind to the palace; where his marriage with the\nprincess was instantly celebrated, amid the highest festivity and\nrejoicings; and after remaining a full month at the sultan's\ncourt, he requested leave to depart; when his father-in-law\npresented him with ten cages, in each of which were four of the\nbeautiful birds of variously coloured plumage, and dismissed him,\nafter an affectionate farewell, with his daughter.\n\nThe prince having departed from the sultan repaired to his\nfaithful friend the Oone, who welcomed his return; and having\nmounted him upon his back with his two brides, his jewel fruit,\nand the cages, immediately ascended into the air, from whence,\nafter soaring for some hours, he gradually descended, and\nalighted near the ruined city, where the prince had left his\ntents, cattle, and followers, whom he found anxiously expecting\nhis arrival. The friendly Oone had scarcely set him down, when he\nsaid to the prince, \"My young friend Mahummud, the obligation\nalready conferred upon me by thy coming here was great; but I\nhave one more favour to request.\" \"What can that be?\" replied the\nprince. \"That thou leave not this spot,\" continued the Oone,\n\"until thou hast washed my corpse, enshrouded, and laid it in the\ngrave.\" Having said thus, the Oone suddenly uttered one loud\ngroan, and instantly his soul took its flight from the body. The\nastonished prince stood for some time overpowered with sorrow;\nbut at length recovering himself, he, with the assistance of his\ndomestics, washed the corpse, wrapped it in a winding sheet, and\nhaving prayed over it, deposited it in the earth.\n\nThe funeral ceremonies of his friend being over, he commenced his\nmarch homewards, and after three days arrived in sight of the\ninscribed pyramid, near which he perceived an extensive\nencampment, which, on reconnoitring, he found to be that of his\nfather. The aged sultan, unable to bear the absence of his son,\nhad marched from his capital in hopes of overtaking him; but on\nhis arrival at the junction of the three ways, being confounded\nat the sight of the inscriptions, he had halted, not knowing\nwhere to proceed. Great was his joy on discovering the prince\nadvancing towards that face of the pyramid on which was engraved,\n\"Whoever travels this road will probably never return.\" When the\nraptures of meeting and mutual congratulations were over, the\nprince informed the sultan of his wonderful and successful\nadventures, which overpowered him with astonishment and joy.\nAfter reposing a few days, they proceeded towards the capital of\nthe sultan; where tidings having arrived of their approach, the\ninhabitants ornamented the city with silks, carpets, and\ntransparent paintings; and the nobles and respectable persons\nissued forth with splendid trains to meet and congratulate their\nsovereign and the prince, who entered in triumphal procession,\namid the greatest rejoicings and prayers for their welfare and\nprosperity.\n\n\n\n\n                 STORY OF THE FISHERMAN'S SON.\n\n\n\nA fisherman's son having in company with his father caught a\nlarge fish, the latter proposed to present it to the sultan, in\nhopes of receiving a great reward. While he was gone home to\nfetch a basket, the son, moved by compassion, returned the fish\ninto the water; but fearful of his father's anger, fled from his\ncountry, and repaired to a distant city, where he was entertained\nby a person as a servant. Strolling one day in the market, he saw\na Jew purchase of a lad a cock at a very high price, and send it\nby his slave to his wife, with orders to keep it safely till his\nreturn home. The fisherman's son supposing that as the Jew gave\nso great a price for the cock it must possess some extraordinary\nproperty, resolved to obtain it; and, accordingly, having bought\ntwo large fowls, carried them to the Jew's wife, whom he informed\nthat her husband had sent him for the cock, which he had\nexchanged for the fowls. She gave it him; and he having retired,\nkilled the bird, in whose entrails he found a magical ring; which\nbeing rubbed by his touch, a voice proceeded from it demanding\nwhat were the commands of its possessor, which should be\nimmediately executed by the genii who were servants of the ring.\nThe fisherman's son was rejoiced at his good fortune, and while\nmeditating what use he should make of his ring, passed by the\nsultan's palace, at the gates of which were suspended many human\nheads. He inquired the reason, and was informed that they were\nthose of unfortunate princes, who having failed in performing the\nconditions on which the sultan's daughter was offered them in\nmarriage, had been put to death. Hoping to be more fortunate than\nthem by the aid of his ring, he resolved to demand the princess's\nhand. He rubbed the ring, when the voice asked his commands: upon\nwhich he required a rich dress, and it was instantly laid before\nhim. He put it on, repaired to the palace, and being introduced\nto the sultan, demanded his daughter to wife. The sultan\nconsented, on condition that his life should be forfeited unless\nhe should remove a lofty and extensive mound of sand that lay on\none side of the palace, which must be done before he could wed\nthe princess. He accepted the condition; but demanded an interval\nof forty days to perform the task. This being agreed to, he took\nhis leave, and having repaired to his lodging, rubbed his ring,\ncommanded the genii to remove the mound, and erect on the space\nit covered a magnificent palace, and to furnish it suitably for a\nroyal residence. In fifteen days the task was completed; he was\nwedded to the princess, and declared heir to the sultan. In the\nmean while, the Jew whom he had tricked of the cock and the\nmagical ring resolved to travel in search of his lost prize, and\nat last arrived at the city, where he was informed of the\nwonderful removal of the mound, and the erection of the palace.\nHe guessed that it must have been done by means of his ring, to\nrecover which he planned the following stratagem. Having\ndisguised himself as a merchant, he repaired to the palace, and\ncried for sale valuable jewels. The princess hearing him, sent an\nattendant to examine them and inquire their price, when the Jew\nasked in exchange only old rings. This being told to the\nprincess, she recollected that her husband kept an old shabby\nlooking ring in his writing stand, and he being asleep, she took\nit out, and sent it to the Jew; who, knowing it to be the one he\nhad so long sought for, eagerly gave for it all the jewels in his\nbasket. He retired with his prize, and having rubbed the ring,\ncommanded the genii to convey the palace and all its inhabitants,\nexcepting the fisherman's son, into a distant desert island,\nwhich was done instantly. The fisherman's son, on awaking in the\nmorning, found himself lying on the mound of sand, which had\nreoccupied its old spot. He arose, and in alarm lest the sultan\nshould put him to death in revenge for the loss of his daughter,\nfled to another kingdom as quickly as possible. Here he endured a\ndisconsolate life, subsisting on the sale of some jewels, which\nhe happened to have upon his dress at his flight. Wandering one\nday through a town, a man offered him for sale a dog, a cat, and\na rat, which he purchased, and kept, diverting his melancholy\nwith their tricks, and uncommon playfulness together. These\nseeming animals proved to be magicians; who, in return for his\nkindness, agreed to recover for their master his lost prize, and\ninformed him of their intention. He eagerly thanked them, and\nthey all set out in search of the palace, the ring, and the\nprincess. At length they reached the shore of the ocean, after\nmuch travel, and descried the island on which it stood, when the\ndog swam over, carrying on his back the cat and the rat. Being\nlanded, they proceeded to the palace; when the rat entered, and\nperceived the Jew asleep upon a sofa, with the ring laid before\nhim, which he seized in his mouth, and then returned to his\ncompanions. They began to cross the sea, as before, but when\nabout half over the dog expressed a wish to carry the ring in his\nmouth. The rat refused, lest he should drop it; but the dog\nthreatened, unless he would give it him, to dive and drown them\nboth in the sea. The rat, alarmed for his life, complied with his\ndemand: but the dog missed his aim in snatching at the ring,\nwhich fell into the ocean. They landed, and informed the\nfisherman's son of his loss: upon which he, in despair, resolved\nto drown himself; when suddenly, as he was going to execute his\npurpose, a great fish appearing with the ring in his mouth, swam\nclose to shore, and having dropped it within reach of the\ndespairing youth, miraculously exclaimed, \"I am the fish which\nyou released from captivity, and thus reward you for your\ngenerosity.\" The fisherman's son, overjoyed, returned to his\nfather-in-law's capital, and at night rubbing the ring, commanded\nthe genii to convey the palace to its old site. This being done\nin an instant, he entered the palace, and seized the Jew, whom he\ncommanded to be cast alive into a burning pile, in which he was\nconsumed. From this period he lived happily with his princess,\nand on the death of the sultan succeeded to his dominions.\n\n\n\n\n             STORY OF ABOU NEEUT AND ABOU NEEUTEEN;\n            OR, THE WELL-INTENTIONED AND THE DOUBLE-MINDED.\n\n\n\nA person named Abou Neeut, or the well-intentioned, being much\ndistressed in his own country, resolved to seek a better livelihood in\nanother. Accordingly he took with him all he possessed, being only one\nsingle sherif, and began his journey. He had not travelled far when\nthere overtook him a man, who entertained him with his conversation;\nin the course of which it appeared that his name was Abou Neeuteen, or\ndouble-minded. Being upon the same scheme, they agreed to seek their\nfortunes together, and it was settled that Abou Neeut should be the\npurse-bearer of the common stock. The other possessed ten sherifs.\n\nAfter some days of toilsome journey they reached a city; on\nentering which, a beggar accosted them, crying out, \"Worthy\nbelievers, disburse your alms and ye shall be rewarded ten-fold.\"\nUpon this, Abou Neeut gave him a sherif; when his companion,\nenraged at what he thought prodigality, demanded back his money,\nwhich was given him, and he marched off leaving his new friend\nwithout any thing. Abou Neeut, resigned to his fate, and relying\non Providence, proceeded to a mosque to pay his devotions, hoping\nto meet some charitable person who would relieve his necessities;\nbut he was mistaken. For a night and day he remained in the\nmosque, but no one offered him charity. Pressed by hunger, he in\nthe dusk of evening stole out, and wandered with fainting steps\nthrough the streets. At length perceiving a servant throwing the\nfragments from an eating cloth, he advanced, and gathering them\nup, sat down in a corner, and gnawed the bones and half-eaten\nmorsels with eagerness; after which, lifting up his eyes towards\nheaven, he thanked God for his scanty meal. The servant, who had\nobserved his motions, was surprised and affected at his wretched\ncondition and devotion, of which he informed his master; who,\nbeing a charitable man, took from his purse ten sherifs, which he\nordered the servant to give to Abou Neeut.\n\nThe servant, through avarice, having retained one sherif as a\nperquisite, delivered the rest to Abou Neeut; who, having counted\nthe money, thanked God for his bounty; but said, agreeably to the\nscriptural declaration he ought to have had ten-fold for the\nsherif he had given to the beggar. The master of the servant\noverhearing this, called Abou Neeut up stairs; and having seated\nhim, inquired his story, which he faithfully related to his host,\nwho was a capital merchant, and was so much pleased at his pious\nsimplicity, that he resolved to befriend him, and desired him to\nabide for the present in his house.\n\nAbou Neeut had resided some days with his friendly host, when the\nseason arrived at which the merchant, who was punctual in\ndischarging the duties of religion, having examined his stock,\nset apart the tenth of it in kind, and bestowed it upon his\nguest, whom he advised to open a shop and try his fortune in\ntrade. Abou Neeut did so, and was so successful, that in a few\nyears he became one of the most reputable merchants in the place.\n\nAt the end of this period, sitting one day in his warehouse, he\nsaw in the streets wretchedly habited, lean, and with eyes sunken\nand dim, his old companion Abou Neeuteen, begging alms of\npassengers with the importunate cry of distress. Abou Neeut\ncompassionating his miserable situation, ordered a servant to\ncall him to him; and on his arrival, having seated him, sent for\nrefreshments to relieve his immediate want. He then invited him\nto spend the night at his house; and in the evening, having shut\nup his warehouse, conducted him home, where a bath was made warm\nfor him, and when he had bathed, he was presented with a change\nof handsome apparel. Supper was served, and when they had eaten\ntill they were satisfied they conversed on several subjects. At\nlength Abou Neeut exclaimed, \"Dost thou not recollect me, my\nbrother?\" \"No, by Allah, most liberal host,\" replied the other;\n\"but who art thou?\" \"I was,\" answered Abou Neeut, \"the companion\nof thy travel at such a period; but my disposition is still\nunchanged, nor have I forgotten our old connection. Half of what\nI possess is thine.\"\n\nHaving said this, Abou Neeut balanced his accounts, and gave half\nof his property to his distressed fellow traveller; who with it\nstocked a warehouse, and traded for himself with good success.\nFor some time the two friends lived near each other in great\nrepute, when Abou Neeuteen growing restless, requested Abou Neeut\nto quit their present abode, and travel for recreation and\nprofit. \"My dear friend,\" replied Abou Neeut, \"why should we\ntravel? have we not here affluence and ease, and what more can we\nenjoy in any part of the world?\" This remonstrance had no effect\non Abou Neeuteen, who became so importunate, that at length his\nkind friend yielded to his whim; they loaded an ample stock of\nmerchandize on mules and camels, and departed for the city of\nMoussul.\n\nAfter travelling ten days, they one evening encamped near a deep\nwell, round which they took up their lodging. In the morning Abou\nNeeut, by his own desire, was let down into the well, more\nreadily to fill the water bags for the use of the caravan, men\nand cattle, little apprehending what was by Providence decreed to\nbefall him; for his ungrateful friend, who envied his prosperity,\nand coveted his wealth, having loaded the beasts, cut the rope at\nthe top of the well, and leaving him to his fate, departed.\n\nAbou Neeut remained all day without food, but humbly putting his\ntrust in Allah for deliverance. About the middle of the following\nnight he overheard two Afreets in conversation with each other,\nwhen one said, \"I am now perfectly happy: for at length I have\npossessed the beautiful princess of Moussul, and no one can drive\nme away, unless by sprinkling the infusion of wormwood under her\nfeet on a Friday during divine service in the great mosque, a\nrecipe which will hardly be found out.\" \"I,\" continued the other\nAfreet, \"have been as fortunate as yourself: for I am in\npossession of such a hidden treasure of gold and jewels, under\nthe mound near Moussul, as cannot be computed, the talisman of\nwhich cannot be opened to any one unless by killing on the mound\na white cock, and pouring over it the blood; which secret I\njudge, will not be found out by man.\" Having said this, the\nAfreets took their flight from the well.\n\nAbou Neeut treasured up in his mind the conversation of the\nAfreets, and at day-light was happily delivered from the well by\nthe arrival of a caravan, some of the followers of which were let\ndown to fill water, and having discovered him, charitably drew\nhim up, and gave him some refreshments. When he was somewhat\nrevived by them, they inquired by what accident he had remained\nin the well; and he, concealing the treachery of his ungrateful\ncompanion, informed them that having reposed to sleep on the edge\nhe had fallen in, and not being missed at the time by his fellow\ntravellers, the caravan had proceeded on its journey. He then\nbegged leave to accompany his generous deliverers to Moussul, to\nwhich they agreed, and liberally furnished him with a conveyance.\n\nOn entering the city Abou Neeut perceived all the people in\nmotion, and on inquiring the reason, was informed that they were\nhastening to the great square before the palace, to see the\nbeheading of a physician, who had failed in attempting to expel\nan evil spirit that had long possessed the daughter of the\nsultan, and that such had been the fate of many unhappy men who\nhad tried their skill upon the unfortunate princess. Upon this\nintelligence he hastened with all speed to the palace, and having\nobtained admission to the sultan, made the usual prostrations;\nafter which he offered to expel the evil spirit, and begged as\npart of his reward the sparing of the life of the unsuccessful\nphysician. To this the sultan for the present agreed; but\ndeclared, that should Abou Neeut fail in his undertaking, he\nwould execute them together, as ignorant pretenders in their art.\nAbou Neeut then begged that the trial of his skill might be\ndeferred till the Friday, which he requested of the sultan might\nbe solemnly observed, as the devout prayers of all true believers\nwould draw down a blessing on his operations. The sultan\nconsented; the unfortunate physician was released from the\nexecutioner, and commanded to be kept in the palace, in which\nAbou Neeut had also an apartment allotted him. Proclamation was\nthen made through the city for the strict celebration of the\napproaching sabbath, under pain of the royal displeasure on those\nwho should neglect it.\n\nFriday being arrived, and the whole city assembled at prayers,\nAbou Neeut prepared his infusion of wormwood, as the Afreet had\nmentioned. Being introduced into the apartment of the princess,\nwho lay in a melancholy stupor, he poured the infusion upon her\nfeet, when a loud yell was heard near her, and she starting up,\nas if from sleep, called upon her attendants to assist her in\nrising. News was immediately conveyed to the sultan of the\nprincess's recovery, and he came overjoyed to witness her\nreturned senses. He commanded public rejoicings to be made, large\nsums to be distributed in alms, and desired Abou Neeut to demand\nwhat he chose in reward for his important service, at the same\ntime ordering the unsuccessful physician to be set at liberty,\nwith a handsome present.\n\nAbou Neeut, who had been captivated by the beauty of the princess,\nasked, as his reward, her hand in marriage: upon which the sultan\nconsulted with his viziers, who advised him to dismiss the petitioner\nfor the present, with orders to return in the morning, when he should\nreceive the sultan's decision on a request which demanded much\nconsideration. When Abou Neeut had retired, the viziers represented to\nthe sultan, that it was fitting the husband of his daughter should at\nleast possess great wealth: for though Abou Neeut had expelled the\nevil spirit, yet if he could not support her in a manner becoming her\nrank, he was not worthy to marry her. They, therefore, advised him to\nselect a number of his most valuable jewels, to shew them to Abou\nNeeut, and demand as a dowry for the princess some of equal\nestimation; which if he could produce he was ready to receive him as\nhis son-in-law; but if not, he must accept a compensation for his\nservices more suited to his condition than the royal alliance.\n\nOn Abou Neeut's appearance at court the next morning the sultan\ndisplayed the jewels, and made the proposal advised by his\nviziers; when looking with the utmost indifference upon the\nbrilliant stones before him, he assured the sultan that he would\nthe next day present him with ten times the number, of superior\nvalue and lustre; which declaration astonished the whole court,\nas it was known that no prince possessed richer gems than those\nin possession of the sultan of Moussul.\n\nAbou Neeut having taken leave of the sultan proceeded to the\npoultry market, and having purchased a cock entirely white and\nfree from blemish, brought it to his lodgings, where he continued\ntill the rising of the moon, when he walked out of the city\nalone, and speeded to the mound of blueish earth mentioned by the\nAfreet of the well to contain the invaluable hidden treasure.\nBeing arrived at the mound, he ascended it, cut the throat of the\ncock, whose blood began to flow, when, lo! the earth shook, and\nsoon made an opening, through which, to his great satisfaction,\nhe perceived such heaps of inestimable precious stones, of all\nsorts, as are not to be adequately described, Abou Neeut now went\nback to the city, where, having procured ten camels, with two\npanniers on each, he returned and loaded them with his treasure,\nwhich he conveyed to his lodging, having first filled up the\ncavity of the mound.\n\nIn the morning Abou Neeut repaired with his loaded camels to the\npalace, and entering the court of the divan, in which the sultan\nsat expecting him, after a profound obeisance, cried out,\n\"Descend for a moment, my lord, and examine the dowry of the\nprincess.\" The sultan, arising from his throne, came down the\nsteps of the hall, and the camels being made to kneel, he\nexamined the panniers, and was so astonished at the richness of\ntheir contents, being jewels far surpassing his own in size and\nlustre, that he exclaimed, \"By Allah! if the treasuries of all\nthe sultans of the world were brought together they could not\nafford gems equal to these.\" When somewhat recovered from his\nsurprise, he inquired of his viziers how he should now act\ntowards Abou Neeut; when they all unanimously cried out, \"By all\nmeans give him your daughter.\" The marriage was then immediately\ncelebrated with great splendour, and Abou Neeut conducted himself\nso well in his high station, that the sultan his father-in-law\ncommitted to him the giving public audience in his stead, and the\ndecision of all appeals, three days in each week.\n\nSome time had elapsed after his elevation, when Abou Neeut one\nday giving audience in the magnificent hall of one of his country\npalaces, beheld a man among the crowd of a sorrowful aspect,\ndressed in a wretched habit, who cried, \"O true believers, O\ncharitable gentlemen, relieve the distressed!\" Abou Neeut\ncommanded one of his mace-bearers to bring him to his presence,\nand on his appearance recognized his treacherous companion who\nhad left him in the well. Without making himself known, or\nbetraying any emotion but that of compassion, he ordered\nattendants to conduct him to the warm bath; in which being\nrefreshed, he was arrayed in a magnificent habit, and again\nbrought to the divan. Abou Neeut having retired with him into a\ncloset, said, \"Knowest them me not, my old friend?\" \"No, by\nAllah,\" replied the other. \"Know then,\" returned he, \"that I am\nAbou Neeut, thy benefactor and companion, whom you treacherously\nleft in the well.\" He then related all his adventures, concluding\nthem with an assurance, that so far from resenting his treachery,\nhe regarded his conduit as the impulse of fate, and as the means\nby which he, himself, had attained his present dignity and\naffluence, which he would share with him. The envious heart of\nAbou Neeuteen was unconquerable; and instead of thanking the\nnoble-minded Abou Neeut for his forgiveness and liberality, he\nexclaimed, \"Since the well has been to thee so fortunate, why\nshould it not prove so also to me?\" Having said this, he hastily\nrose up and quitted Abou Neeut, who would not punish such\nrudeness, even without taking leave.\n\nAbou Neeuteen hastened with all speed to the well, and having\ndescended by a rope, sat down, impatiently expecting the arrival\nof the Afreets, who about midnight alighted, and resting\nthemselves on the terrace above, began to inquire each other's\nadventures. \"Since we met last,\" said one, \"I have been rendered\nmiserable; for a cunning Mussulmaun found out the secret of\noverpowering me, and has married my princess, nor can I revenge\nmyself, for he is under the protection of a converted genie, whom\nthe prophet has appointed to watch over him.\" \"I,\" continued the\nother Afreet, \"have been equally unfortunate with thyself; for\nthe same man who has wedded thy mistress discovered my hidden\ntreasure, and keeps it in spite of my attempts to recover it: but\nlet us fill up this abominable well, which must have been the\ncause of all our disasters.\" Having said thus, the two Afreets\nimmediately hurled the terrace and large stones into the well,\nwhich crushed the ungrateful and envious Abou Neeuteen to atoms.\nSome days after this, the good Abou Neeut, finding he did not\nreturn, repaired to the well, and seeing it fallen in, ordered it\nto be cleared; when the discovery of the body proved to him that\nthe malicious spirit of the wretch had been the cause of his own\ndestruction. He with reverence exclaimed, \"There is no refuge but\nwith the Almighty; may he preserve us from envy, which is\ndestructive to the envious alone!\"\n\nAbou Neeut returned to the capital, where, not long after, his\nfather-in-law the sultan dying, left him heir to his kingdom. His\nsuccession was disputed by the husbands of the two elder sisters\nof his wife; but the ministers and people being in favour of the\nsultan's will, they resigned their pretensions and submitted to\nhis authority. His wife being brought to bed of a son, her\nsisters bribed the midwife to pretend that the sultana had\nproduced a dog. They did the same by another son. At the third\nlying-in of the sultana Abou Neeut resolved to be present, and a\nbeautiful princess appeared. The two infant princes having been\nthrown at the gate of one of the royal palaces, were taken up by\nthe gardener and his wife, who brought them up as their own. Abou\nNeeut in visiting the garden with his daughter, who shewed an\ninstinctive affection for them, from this, and their martial play\nwith each other (having made horses of clay, bows and arrows,\n&c.), was induced to inquire of the gardener whether they were\nreally his own children. The gardener upon this related the\ncircumstance of his having found them exposed at the gate of the\npalace, and mentioned the times, which agreed exactly with those\nof the sultana's delivery. Abou Neeut then questioned the\nmidwife, who confessed the imposition and wickedness of the\nsisters, whom he left to be punished by the pangs of their own\nconsciences, convinced that envy is its own severest tormentor.\nThe young princes were acknowledged; and the good Abou Neeut had\nthe satisfaction of seeing them grow up to follow his example.\n\n\n\n\n              ADVENTURE OF A COURTIER, RELATED BY\n           HIMSELF TO HIS PATRON, AN AMEER OF EGYPT.\n\n\n\nIt is related by an historian that there was an ameer of the land\nof Egypt, whose mind being one night unusually disturbed, he sent\nfor one of his courtiers, a convivial companion, and said to him,\n\"To-night my bosom, from what cause I know not, is uncommonly\nrestless, and I wish thee to divert me by some amusing\nnarrative.\" The courtier replied, \"To hear is to obey: I will\ndescribe an adventure which I encountered in the youthful part of\nmy life.\"\n\nWhen a very young man I was deeply in love with a beautiful Arab\nmaiden, adorned by every elegance and grace, who resided with her\nparents; and I used frequently to visit their camp, for her\nfamily was one of the desert tribes. One day my mind felt\nuncommonly anxious concerning her, and I resolved to seek relief\nby a visit; but when I reached the spot found neither my beloved\nnor any of her kindred. I questioned some passengers, who\ninformed me that the family had removed their encampment from\nscarcity of forage for their herds and camels. I remained for\nsome time on the ground; but observing no signs of their return,\nmy impatience of absence became intolerable, and my love\ncompelled me to travel in search of my charmer. Though the shades\nof evening were falling, I replaced the saddle upon my camel, put\non my vestments, and girding on my sabre proceeded. I had\nadvanced some distance, when the night became dismally black, and\nfrom the darkness I now sunk into sands and hollows, and now\nascended declivities, while the yells of wild beasts resounded on\nevery quarter. My heart beat with apprehension, and my tongue did\nnot cease to repeat the attributes of the Almighty, our only\ndefender in time of need. At length stupor overcame my senses,\nand I slept; while my camel quitted the track, and wandered from\nthe route I had meant to pursue all night. Suddenly my head was\nviolently intercepted by the branch of a tree, and I was awakened\nby the blow, which gave me infinite pain. As I recovered myself I\nbeheld trees, verdure sprinkled with flowers, and a clear\nrivulet; also a variety of birds, whose notes were melodiously\nsweet. I alighted from my camel, and laid the bridle on my arm,\nas the underwood of the thicket was closely entwined.\n\nI did not cease leading my camel till I was out of the thicket,\nwhen I remounted; but at a loss which way to go, and unknowing\nwhere Providence might direct me, I reached the desert, and cast\nmy eyes over the expanse; when, lo! at length a smoke appeared in\nthe midst of it. I whipped my camel, and at length reached a\nfire, and near it observed a handsome tent, before which was a\nstandard planted, surrounded by spears, horses picketted, and\ncamels grazing. I said to myself, \"What can mean this tent, which\nhas a grand appearance, in so solitary a plain?\" I then went to\nthe rear of the tent, and exclaimed, \"Health to you, O\ninhabitants of this tent, and may the Almighty to you be\nmerciful!\" Upon this there advanced from it a youth, seemingly\nabout nineteen, who appeared graceful as the rising moon, and\nvalour and benevolence gleamed upon his aspect. He returned my\nsalutation, and said, \"Brother Arab, perchance thou hast missed\nthy way.\" I answered, \"Yes, shew it, and may God requite thee!\"\nupon which he replied, \"My dwelling, brother Arab, is at present\nin this wild spot; but the night is dreary, and shouldst thou\nproceed there is no surety against wild beasts tearing thee in\npieces. Lodge, then, at present with me in safety, and repose,\nand when day shall appear I will direct thee on thy way.\" I\nalighted, when he took my camel, picketted her, and gave her\nwater and fodder. He then retired for a while; but returned with\na sheep, which he killed, flayed, and cut up; then lighted a\nfire, and when it was of a proper glow broiled part of the sheep,\nwhich he had previously seasoned with sundry dried herbs, seeds,\nand spices, and when ready presented his cookery to me.\n\nDuring his hospitalities I observed that my kind host sometimes\nbeat his breast and wept, from which I guessed that he was in\nlove, and a wanderer, like myself. My curiosity was raised; but I\nsaid within myself, \"I am his guest, why should I intrude upon\nhim by painful questions?\" and refrained from inquiry. When I had\neaten as much as sufficed me, the youth arose, went into his\ntent, and brought out a basin and ewer, with a napkin embroidered\nwith silk and fringed with gold; also a cruet of rose water, in\nwhich musk had been infused. I was astonished at his proceedings,\nand the politeness of his demeanour, and exclaimed inwardly, \"How\nwonderful is the abode of so accomplished a personage in this\nwild desert.\" We made our ablutions, and conversed awhile upon\nvarious subjects; after which my gentle host went to his tent,\nfrom whence he brought out a piece of red silk damask, which he\ndivided between us, saying, \"Brother Arab, go into my tent and\nchoose thy place of repose, for last night and to-day great must\nhave been thy hardship and fatigue.\"\n\nI entered the tent, and in one partition of it found a mattress\nof green damask: upon which, having pulled off my upper garments,\nI lay down, and slept so soundly that I never enjoyed, before or\nsince, so refreshing a repose. At length I awoke, when night was\nfar advanced, and became involved in thought respecting my\nhospitable host; but knew not what to conjecture, and was sinking\nagain into slumber, when, lo! gentle murmurs struck my ears, than\nwhich I never heard sound more soft or tenderly affecting. I\nlifted up the curtain of my partition, and looked around, when I\nbeheld a damsel more beautiful than any I had ever seen, seated\nby the generous owner of the tent. They wept and complained of\nthe agonies of love, of separation and interruptions to their\ndesire of frequent meetings. Then I said within myself, \"There is\na wonderfully dignified appearance in this amiable youth, yet he\nlives alone, and I have seen no other tent on the plain. What can\nI conjecture, but that this damsel must be a daughter of one of\nthe good genii, who has fallen in love with him, and upon her\naccount he has retired to this solitary spot?\" Respect for their\nlove made me drop the curtain; I drew the coverlid over me, and\nagain fell asleep.\n\nWhen the morning dawned I awoke, dressed, and having performed my\nablutions and prayers, said to the young man, who had already\nrisen, \"Brother Arab, if in addition to thy hospitalities already\nshewn thou wilt put me in my way, my obligations will be\ncomplete.\" He looked kindly, and said, \"If convenient, my\nbrother, let me entertain thee as my guest for three days.\" I\ncould not refuse his hospitable request, and abode with him. On\nthe third day I ventured to inquire his name and family, when he\nreplied, \"I am of the noble tribe of Azzra,\" and I discovered\nthat he was the son of my father's brother. \"Son of my uncle,\"\nexclaimed I, \"what can have induced thee to court the seclusion\nof this desert spot, and to quit thy kinsmen, neighbours, and\ndependents?\"\n\nUpon hearing these words, the eyes of the youth became suffused\nwith tears, he sighed, and said, \"Ah! my cousin, I passionately\nadmired the daughter of my uncle, and was so devoted to her love\nthat I asked her in marriage; but he refused me, and wedded her\nto another of our tribe richer than myself, who carried her to\nhis abode. When she was thus torn from me, despair agitated my\nsoul, I quitted my relations, friends, and companions, became\nenamoured of solitude, and retired to this lonely spot.\"\n\nWhen he had finished his communication, I said, \"But where is the\nabode of thy beloved and thy successful rival?\" He replied, \"Near\nthe summit of yonder mountain, from whence, as frequently as\nopportunity will allow, in the stillness of night, when sleep\nhath overpowered the eyes of the village, she ventures to my\ntent, and we enjoy the company of each other; but believe me, my\nbrother, our passion is innocent as devotional love. Hence I\ndwell here in the manner you have witnessed, and while she visits\nme delightful will pass the hours, until Allah shall execute his\nappointed decrees, and reward our constancy in this world, or\nconsign us to the grave together.\"\n\nWhen the unfortunate youth had concluded his narration, at which\nI was affected with sincere compassion for his circumstances, an\neager desire to relieve the lovers from their oppressors occupied\nmy mind, and after much consideration I addressed him thus: \"If\nthou choosest, I think I can point out a plan which, under the\nblessing of Allah, may end the sufferings of thyself and thy\nbeloved.\" He replied, \"O son of my uncle, reveal it to me!\" and I\ncontinued, saying, \"When night shall arrive, and the damsel\ncometh, let us seat her upon my camel; for she is sure-footed and\nswift of pace; do thou then mount thy steed, and I will accompany\nyou upon one of your camels. We will travel all night, and ere\nmorning shall have passed the forest, when you will be safe, and\nthy heart will be rendered happy with thy beloved. The land of\nGod is wide enough to afford us an asylum; and by Heaven I swear,\nthat while life remains I will be thy friend.\" The youth replied,\n\"Son of my uncle, I will consult upon thy plan with my beloved,\nfor she is prudent and well-informed.\"\n\nWhen night had shut in, and the usual hour of the damsel's coming\napproached, my kind host impatiently expected her arrival; but in\nvain, for she did not appear. He rose, stood in the doorway of\nthe tent, opened his mouth, and drew in the exhalations of the\ngale, then returned, sat down pensively for a few minutes, and at\nlast bursting into tears, exclaimed, \"Ah! my cousin, there are no\ntidings of the daughter of my uncle, some, mishap must have\nbefallen her. Remain here while I go in search of intelligence.\"\nHaving said thus, he took up his sabre, his lance, and departed.\n\nWhen somewhat more than an hour had elapsed, I heard his\nfootstep, and soon perceived him advancing, bearing something\nbulky in his arms, while he called loudly upon me in a\ndistressful tone. I hastened towards him, and upon my arrival he\nexclaimed, \"Alas, alas! the beloved daughter of my uncle is no\nmore, and I bear her remains. She was hastening, as usual, to my\ntent, when suddenly a lion sprung upon her in the path, and tore\nher in pieces. These relics are all that remain of my beloved.\"\nHe then laid them down, and, lo! the thigh bones of the damsel\nand part of her ribs. He wept piteously, and said, \"Remain here\ntill I return;\" after which he departed with the swiftness of an\narrow. In about an hour he returned, and in his hand was the head\nof the lion, which he threw down, and asked eagerly for water,\nwhich I brought him. He then washed his hands, cleansed the mouth\nof the lion, which he rapturously kissed, and wept bitterly for\nsome moments. He then exclaimed, \"By Allah, I conjure thee, O son\nof my uncle, and by the ties of relationship between us, that\nthou observe my will; for within this hour I shall follow my\nbeloved; be thou our mourner, and bury her remains with mine in\nthe same grave.\" Having said this, he retired into the sleeping\npartition of the tent; where he remained at his devotions for an\nhour, then came out, beat his breast, sighed deeply, and at\nlength heaved his expiring groan, saying, \"I come, I come, my\nbeloved, I come!\" and his pure soul took flight for the mansions\nof Paradise.\n\nWhen I beheld his corpse, sad indeed was my condition, and from\nexcess of sorrow I found it difficult to perform my promise; but\nat length I arose, washed, enshrouded, and laid the remains of\nthese constant lovers in the same grave, near which I remained\nfor three days in prayer and lamentation; after which I departed\nhomewards: but have not failed annually to visit the spot, to\nbedew their grave with my tears, and pray for the mercy of Allah\nto their souls and my own errors.\n\n\n\n\n            STORY OF THE PRINCE OF SIND, AND FATIMA,\n                 DAUGHTER OF AMIR BIN NAOMAUN.\n\n\n\nSome ages back a certain sultan of Sind had a son by a concubine,\nwho behaved so rudely to his sultana, that she became dispirited\nand lost her health, which her favourite woman observing,\nresolved by stratagem to get rid of the prince. She advised her\nmistress, when he might next insult her, to say to him, \"That he\nwould never appear becoming his rank till he was beloved by\nFatima, daughter of a sultan named Amir bin Naomaun.\" The queen\nhaving followed the woman's directions, the prince resolved to\ntravel to the country of the princess, and demand her in\nmarriage. Accordingly, having obtained the consent of the sultan\nhis father, he departed with an attendance suitable to his rank.\nAfter marching for some time he entered a desert, which was\ncovered with a numberless flight of locusts, that had fallen\nexhausted for want of food. Pitying their distress, he ordered\nmeal to be spread on the ground, when the locusts having\nrefreshed themselves flew away. Some days after this incident he\nreached a thick forest crowded with elephants, and herds of wild\nanimals of every description; but as they did not attempt to\nattack him, and were in a starving condition, he ordered some of\nhis cattle to be killed, and distributed to them for food. Having\nsatisfied themselves they retired, shewing every sign that\ndumbness would allow of being pleased with his kind treatment. On\nhis march onwards the prince met a venerable old man, of whom he\ninquired the route to the territories of Amir bin Naomaun, and\nwas informed that they were at no great distance; but only to be\nentered by a range of rugged and steep mountains composed of\niron-stone, and next to impassable; also, that should he succeed\nin overcoming this difficulty, it was in vain to hope to attain\nthe princess. The prince inquiring the reason, the old man\ncontinued, \"Sultan Amir bin Naomaun has resolved that no one\nshall wed his daughter unless he can perform three tasks which he\nwill impose, and these are of so difficult a nature as not to be\nexecuted by the labour or ingenuity of man, and many unhappy\nprinces have lost their heads in the attempt; for he puts them to\ndeath instantly on failure: be advised, therefore, and give up so\nfruitless an expedition.\" The prince, instead of listening to the\nadmonition of the old man, resolved to proceed; and having\nrequested his prayers and benedictions, continued his march. In a\nshort time, having entered the passes of the mountains, he\ndiscovered vast caverns inhabited by a species of genii, who were\nemployed in working upon masses of iron-stone, which they dug\nfrom the rock. The prince having entertained them with a\nhospitable feast, they, in return, shewed him the easiest route\nthrough the stupendous mountains, and he at length arrived in\nsafety before the capital of sultan Amir bin Naomaun, to whom he\nsent an envoy, requesting leave to encamp on the plain, and to\noffer himself as a candidate for the beautiful princess his\ndaughter. The sultan, in reply, acceded to his petition, and\ninvited him to the palace; where, in the evening, he was led into\na court, in which was placed an immense vessel filled with three\nkinds of grain mixed together, which (as his first task towards\nobtaining the princess) he was to separate entirely from each\nother, and put into three heaps; which if not accomplished before\nsunrise, he was then to forfeit his head in punishment for his\ntemerity. It being now too late to recede, the prince resigned\nhimself to Providence; and the gates of the court being locked\nupon him, he prayed to Allah, and began to separate the grains;\nbut finding his progress vain, his spirits deserted him about\nmidnight, and he left off his fruitless labour in despair,\nendeavouring to reconcile himself to death. While he was praying\nfor fortitude to bear him up in his last moments, a voice was\nheard, saying, \"Be comforted, and receive the reward of thy\ncharity to famished insects.\" Immediately after this the heavens\nwere obscured, as if by thick clouds, which descended on the\ncourt, when, lo! this phenomenon proved to be myriads of locusts;\nwho, alighting on the vessel, in a few hours emptied it of all\nthe grain, which they disposed of, each in its kind, in three\nseveral heaps, and having given a general buzzing of salutation,\ntook flight, and vanished into the air. The prince was overjoyed\nat the miraculous accomplishment of his task by the grateful\nlocusts, and having offered up thanks to Allah and the prophet\nfor his deliverance from impending destruction, composed himself\nto rest, doubting not but that they would assist him to overcome\nthe two remaining labours. Great was the surprise of the sultan\nAmir bin Naomaun, when, on coming at daylight to the court, he\nbeheld his intended victim in a profound sleep, and the grain in\nthree separate heaps, neatly piled up in the form of domes. The\nprince awaking, saluted him, and demanded to be informed of his\nnext task; but the sultan put him off to the evening, until when\nhe entertained him at the palace with a most magnificent feast;\nand his obdurate heart was so softened by the noble address and\ndemeanour of his guest, that he wished he might be able to\novercome the remaining impositions and become his son-in-law. The\nprincess, also, who had the curiosity to look at him through the\nblinds of her apartments, was so fascinated with his appearance\nthat she prayed for his success.\n\nWhen night had set in, the prince was conducted to an open plain\nin front of the palace, in the centre of which was a large\nreservoir full of clear water, which the sultan commanded him to\ndrain off before sunrise, or forfeit his life. The prince\nremained alone on the brink of the reservoir with rather somewhat\nmore hope of success than he had felt of overcoming his task of\nthe preceding night; nor was he disappointed, for about midnight\na voice was heard exclaiming, \"Prince, benevolence is never\nunrequited:\" and, lo! the plain was filled with elephants,\nrhinoceroses, camels, dromedaries, lions, tigers, and every\nspecies of wild beasts, in such immense droves as could not be\nnumbered, who, advancing in turn to the reservoir, drank in such\nquantity that it, at length, was completely emptied, and became\nas dry as if just finished. The beasts then expressing pleasure\nby their varying natural noises at having served their benefactor\ndeparted, and left him to enjoy the deliverance from the labour\nimposed upon him.\n\nThe prince, now more assured than ever that he was the favourite\nof Allah and the prophet, after offering up prayers with a\nrelieved heart, slept comfortably in a building creeled on the\nmargin of the reservoir, and was only awakened by the call of the\nsultan at sun-rise, who was more astonished at the accomplishment\nof this labour than the former, though certainly each was equally\ndifficult. He conducted the prince to his palace, and the day was\nspent in the highest festivity.\n\nAt the approach of night the prince was conducted to his third\ntask, which was to complete and fit up before daylight from a\nvast mass of planks of the choicest timber ready stored the\ndoors, windows, and balconies of an unfinished palace, much\nlarger than that which the sultan inhabited. The prince at the\napprehension of the consequences of failure was somewhat alarmed;\nbut the recollection of his former aids supported him, and after\noffering up his devotions he sat down, composedly waiting for the\ndecision of Providence on his fate. His resignation was accepted,\nfor at midnight he was roused from his contemplations by the\nsounds of sawing, planing, hammering, nailing, and the songs of\nhappy work-men. Looking up he perceived his friends of the iron\nmountains; who, all saluting him, cried out, \"Prince, set your\nheart at rest, for we are come to repay you for your hospitable\nfeast.\" Before daylight the palace was fitted up in a manner more\nelegant than can be described, and every door, window, and\nbalcony painted with the most brilliant colours, flowered with\nsilver and gold. The grateful labourers of the iron mountains\nhaving finished their work, respectfully saluted the prince and\ndeparted.\n\nThe prince having taken a grateful leave of his useful friends, walked\nthrough the palace, and was eagerly employed in admiring its elegance\nand the magnificence of their finishing hand, when the sultan Amir bin\nNaomaun, who from his apartments at sun-rise had observed the\nmiraculous completion, appeared, having hastened to examine the superb\nworkmanship, and to congratulate his son-in-law, for as such he now\nacknowledged him, and as the favoured of Allah, and of the last of\nprophets. He conducted the prince to the palace, and the most\nmagnificent preparations being made, the nuptials with his daughter\nwere celebrated in the new edifice, where the bride and bridegroom\nenjoyed themselves for three months, at the expiration of which the\nprince begged permission to return to his father's dominions, which he\nreached just in time to release him from the attack of an inimical\nsultan, who had invaded the country, and laid close siege to his\ncapital. His father received him with rapture, and the prince having\nmade an apology to the sultana for his former rude behaviour, she\nreceived his excuses, and having no child of her own readily adopted\nhim as her son; so that the royal family lived henceforth in the\nutmost harmony, till the death of the sultan and sultana, when the\nprince succeeded to the empire.\n\n\n\n\n             STORY OF THE LOVERS OF SYRIA; OR, THE\n                            HEROINE.\n\n\n\nThere formerly dwelt in the city of Damascus two brothers, one\npoor and the other rich, the former of whom had a son, and the\nlatter a daughter. The poor man dying left his son, just emerging\nfrom infancy, to the protection of his wealthy uncle, who behaved\nto his unfortunate charge with paternal tenderness, till the\nyouth, who had exchanged vows of love with his cousin, requested\nher in marriage; when the father refused, and expelled him from\nhis house. The young lady, however, who ardently loved him,\nagreed to elope, and having one night escaped from her father's\ndwelling, repaired to the object of her affection; who, having\nhad notice of her intentions, had prepared two horses and a mule\nto carry their baggage. They travelled all night, and by morning\nreached a sea-port, where they found a ship ready to sail, in\nwhich, having secured a passage, the lady immediately embarked;\nbut the lover remained on shore to dispose of the horses and\nmule. While he was seeking for a purchaser in the market, a fair\nwind sprung up, and the master of the ship having weighed anchor,\nhoisted sail and departed: the lady in vain entreating him to\nwait the return of her beloved, or send her on shore, for he was\ncaptivated with her beauty. Finding herself thus ensnared, as she\nwas a woman of strong mind, instead of indulging in unavailing\ncomplaint, she assumed a satisfied air; and as the only way to\npreserve her honour, received the addresses of the treacherous\nmaster with pretended complacency, and consented to receive him\nas a husband at the first port at which the ship might touch.\nWith these assurances he was contented, and behaved to her with\nhonourable deference, and affectionate respect. At length the\nvessel anchored near a city, to which the captain went to make\npreparations for his marriage; but the lady, while he was on\nshore, addressed the ship's crew, setting forth with such force\nhis treacherous conduct to herself, and offering such rewards if\nthey would convey her to her lover at the port they had left,\nthat the honest sailors were moved in her favour, agreed to obey\nher as their mistress, and hoisting sail, left the master to\nshift for himself. After some days of favourable weather, a\ncontrary gale blowing hard, the vessel was driven far out of her\ncourse, and for shelter obliged to anchor in the first haven that\noffered, which proved to be that of a large city, the capital of\na potent sultan, whose officers came on board to examine the\nvessel, and inquire into her cargo and destination. These men, to\ntheir great surprise, finding it commanded by a lady of exquisite\nbeauty, reported her charms to the sultan, who resolved to\npossess them, and sent her an offer of marriage; to which she\nseemingly consented, and the sultan commanded the most splendid\npreparations to be made for the nuptials. When all was ready, he\nsent onboard the vessel the daughter of his vizier, with other\nladies, thirty-nine in number, magnificently attired, to wait\nupon his bride, and attend her on shore. They were graciously\nreceived by the politic lady, and invited to refresh themselves\nin the grand cabin, which she had elegantly adorned with costly\nhangings, and prepared in it a superb collation, to which they\nsat down. She then dismissed the boats in which they came,\nsending a message to the sultan that she should entertain the\nladies on board till the next morning, when she would repair on\nshore and conclude their marriage. She behaved towards her new\nguests with such winning affability, that they one and all\nadmired their expected sultana, and partook of the entertainment\nwith the highest satisfaction; but what was their surprise when,\nin the middle of the night, she commanded the crew to weigh\nanchor, having first warned them, on pain of her displeasure and\nimmediate death, to keep silence, and raise no alarm in the\nharbour. The vessel sailed, and put to sea without being\nmolested, when the intrepid commandress consoled the affrighted\nladies, related to them her own adventures, and assured them that\nwhen she should have rejoined her lover, they should, if they\nchose it, be honourably restored to their homes; but in the mean\ntime she hoped they would contentedly share her fortunes. This\nbehaviour, by degrees, so won upon their minds, that the ladies\nforgot their sorrows, became pleased with their situation, and in\na short time were so attached to their new mistress, that they\nwould not have left her had it been in their power. After some\nweeks sail, it became necessary to steer towards the first coast\nthat should present itself, to lay in a supply of fresh water and\nprovisions, and land appearing, the vessel anchored, when the\nlady with her companions went on shore. Here they were surrounded\nby forty robbers, who threatened to take them prisoners; when the\nheroic lady, desiring her friends to conceal their fears, assumed\na smiling countenance, and addressing the chief of the banditti,\nassured him there would be no occasion for force, as she and her\ncompanions were ready to share their love, being women who were\nabove the prejudices of their sex, and had devoted themselves to\npleasure, in search of which they roved on board their vessel\nfrom one coast to another, and would now stay with them as long\nas they might wish for their company. This declaration suiting\nthe depraved minds of the robbers, they laid aside their fierce\nlooks and warlike weapons, bringing abundance of all sorts of\nprovisions to regale their expected mistresses, with whom they\nsat down to a plentiful repast, which was heightened by a store\nof wines which the lady had brought in her boats from the ship.\nMirth and jollity prevailed; but the fumes of the liquors, in\nwhich the politic lady had infused strong opiates, suddenly\noperated upon their senses, and they fell down one and all in a\nstate of stupefaction. She then with her companions drew the\nsabres of their brutal admirers and put them all to death\nexcepting the chief, whom they bound hand and foot with strong\ncords, and after cutting off his beard and mustachios, tied his\nown cimeter round his neck, leaving him to feel mortification\nworse than death on the recovery of his senses, namely, the sight\nof his slaughtered fellows, and regret at the loss of his\nimagined happiness. The ladies then stripped the caves of the\nrobbers of the vast wealth which they had hoarded up from their\nplunders, and having carried it on board their boats, with a\nstock of water and provisions, returned to the ship, weighed\nanchor, and sailed triumphant and rejoicing from such a dangerous\ncoast. After some weeks' sail they again descried land, to which\nthey approached, and discovered a spacious harbour, round which\nrose a vast city, the buildings of which were sublimely lofty,\nadorned with flights of marble steps to the water's edge, and\ncrowned with domes and minarets topped with pinnacles of gold.\nThe enterprising lady having anchored, clothed herself and her\ncompanions in magnificent male habits; after which she ordered\nthe boats to be hoisted out, and they were rowed ashore by part\nof their crew richly dressed. On landing, they found all the\ninhabitants of the city in mourning, and making doleful\nlamentation for their late sultan, who had died only a few days\nbefore. The gallant appearance of a stranger so nobly attended\ncreated much surprise, and intelligence of the arrival was\ninstantly conveyed to the vizier, who acted as regent till the\nelection of a new monarch, which ceremony was just on the point\nof taking place. The minister, who thought he perceived in such a\ncritical arrival the work of fate, immediately waited on the now\nsupposed prince, whom he invited to be present at the election;\nat the same time informing him that when in this kingdom a sultan\ndied without issue, the laws appointed that his successor should\nbe chosen by the alighting of a bird on his shoulder, which bird\nwould be let fly among the crowd assembled in the square before\nthe palace. The seeming prince accepted the invitation, and with\nthe disguised ladies was conducted to a gorgeous pavilion, open\non all sides, to view the ceremony. The ominous bird being\nloosened from his chain, soared into the air to a great height,\nthen gradually descending, flew round and round the square\nrepeatedly, even with the faces of the spectators. At length it\ndarted into the pavilion, where the lady and her companions were\nseated, fluttered around her head, and at length rested upon her\nshoulder, giving at the same time a cry of exultation, stretching\nits neck, and flapping its wings. Immediately upon this, the\nviziers and courtiers bowed themselves to the ground, and the\nassembled crowd prostrated themselves on the earth, crying out,\n\"Long live our glorious sultan, the chosen of Providence, the\nelected by the decrees of fate!\" The disguised lady was instantly\nconducted to the palace, seated on a splendid throne, and\nproclaimed amidst the acclamations of the people, sovereign of an\nextensive empire; nor were the abilities of her mind unequal to\nthe task of government. In a few days the vizier offered to the\nsupposed sultan his daughter in marriage; and his offer being\naccepted, the nuptials were celebrated with the utmost\nmagnificence; but what was the astonishment of the bride, when,\ninstead of being caressed, the sultan on retiring with her became\ncold and reserved, rose from her, and spent the night in prayer.\nIn the morning the sultana was questioned by her mother; who, on\nher relating the behaviour of the husband, observed, that\npossibly from his youth he might be over reserved; but that love\nwould naturally in time operate its effect. Several evenings past\nin the same manner, when the bride, mortified at such coldness,\ncould no longer restrain herself, and said, \"Why, my lord, if you\ndisliked me, did you take me to wife? but if you love not as\nother men, tell me so, and I will suffer my misfortune in\nsilence.\" The lady, moved by this remonstrance, replied, \"Most\nvirtuous princess, would that for your sake I were of the sex you\nsuppose me; but, alas! I am like you a woman, disappointed in\nlove.\" She then related to her the wonderful adventures she had\nundergone since leaving her father's house, at which the vizier's\ndaughter was so affected that she vowed for her a lasting\nfriendship, agreed to keep her secret, and live with her till\nsuch times as chance should restore her lover. In return for this\nkindness the lady promised that should the object of her\naffections ever arrive, he should marry them both, and that she\nshould have the precedence in the ceremony of union. The two\nfriends having thus agreed, the vizier's daughter regained her\ncheerfulness, and means were taken to convince her father,\nmother, and friends of the consummation of the nuptials. From\nthis time they lived in perfect happiness together, one\nexercising the authority of sultan to the satisfaction of the\nsubject, and the other acting the part of a satisfied and\nobedient wife; but still both were anxious to meet their mutual\nhusband. As the capital of the kingdom was a mart for most\nnations of the world, the pretended sultan formed the following\nstratagem for discovering her beloved, not doubting but that he\nwould travel over all parts of the world in search of the object\nof his affection. She erected a most magnificent caravanserai,\nfurnished with baths hot and cold, and every convenience for the\nweary traveller. When it was finished, she issued a proclamation,\nthat sojourners from all parts should be welcome to lodge in it,\nand be provided with every necessary till they could accommodate\nthemselves in the city, or pursued, if only travellers, their\njourney to another part. Over the gate of this edifice she placed\nan exact statue of herself, and gave orders to the guards that\nwhatever stranger, on looking at it, should shew signs of\nagitation, or utter words signifying that he knew the original,\nshould be immediately seized and confined in the palace. Many\nweeks had not passed when the father of this enterprising lady,\nwho had travelled many thousands of miles in search of his\ndaughter, arrived at the gate, and on seeing the statue,\nexclaimed, \"Alas! alas! how like my poor, lost child!\" He was\nimmediately carried to the palace, lodged in a magnificent\napartment, treated with the highest respect; but kept in complete\nignorance as to the cause of his confinement and his future fate.\nNot long after this, his disconsolate nephew, who, on the\ndeparture of the treacherous captain, had wandered from city to\ncity in hopes of finding his mistress, arrived, and repaired to\nthe caravanserai.\n\nOn sight of the statue his feelings overcame him; he sighed and\nfainted: when he was taken up by the guards and lodged in the\npalace, where being come to himself, he was astonished at the\nrespect and attention paid him by the domestics, and the splendid\nmanner in which he was entertained; but it was in vain that he\ninquired the cause of his detention, the only answer he could get\nbeing, \"Have patience, my lord, and repose yourself till\nProvidence shall free you from our confinement.\" Soon after this\nthe master of the ship, who had visited port after port in hopes\nof recovering his vessel, reached the city, and hearing of the\nhospitality with which all strangers were received at the\ncaravanserai of the sultan, repaired to the gateway; but no\nsooner had he cast his eyes on the statue, than he exclaimed,\n\"Ah! how like to the artful yet virtuous woman who cheated me of\nmy property by stealing my ship.\" Immediately he was seized by\nthe guards, and conveyed to the palace, but treated with\nkindness. Many days had not succeeded to this event, when the\nsultan and the vizier, whose daughter with the thirty-nine ladies\nhad been so artfully carried away from them by the enterprising\nheroine of this history, made their appearance at the gateway of\nthe caravanserai, and on beholding the statue, cried out, \"Surely\nthis is the likeness of her who deprived us of our children; ah!\nthat we could find her and be revenged on her hypocrisy!\" On\nsaying this they were apprehended and taken to the palace, where\nthey were conducted to apartments suitable to their rank. In a\nfew days afterwards the chief of the banditti, who, burning with\nthe ireful resolution of revenging the deaths of his associates,\nhad travelled from place to place in hopes of finding the object\nof his fury, arrived at the gateway, and observing the statue,\nroared out in a rage, \"Surely this is the resemblance of my\ntormenter; oh! that I could meet thy original, so that I might\nhave the satisfaction of making her blood atone for the murder of\nmy friends!\" Instantly, as he had spoken, the guards at the gate\nrushing upon him, bound him hand and foot, conveyed him to the\npalace, where he was confined in a loathsome dungeon, and fed on\nthe coarsest viands.\n\nThe pretended sultan having now all the parties in her power, one\nmorning ascended her throne in full audience, and commanded them\nto be brought before her. When they had made their obeisance, she\ncommanded them to relate the cause of their having journeyed to\nher capital; but the royal presence rendered them incapable of\nuttering a word: upon which she exclaimed, \"Since you cannot\nspeak, I will;\" and then discovered to their astonished minds the\nadventures of each, which had occasioned their travelling. She\nthen discovered herself, and fell upon the necks of her father\nand lover, with whom she retired into the private apartments. The\nsultan and his vizier were made happy in the company of the\ndaughter of the latter and the other ladies. The master of the\nship, as his troubles had atoned for his irregular behaviour, was\nreceived into favour, and had his vessel restored; but the savage\nchief of the banditti was put to death, by being cast into a\nburning pile, that no further injury might be offered to mankind.\nIn a few days, the most magnificent preparations being made, the\ndouble nuptials of the heroic lady and her friend the vizier's\ndaughter were celebrated with her constant lover, to whom she\nresigned her throne, and the happy wives lived together in\nfelicity, undisturbed by jealousy of the husband's attention to\neither, so equally did they share his love. The sultan and\nvizier, after being long entertained at the court, took leave,\nand returned, under an escort, to their own country; but the\ndaughter and the thirty-nine ladies could not be prevailed upon\nto accompany them, only to visit and bid farewell to their\nparents, for such was their attachment to their gallant mistress,\nthat they came back immediately, and were espoused to the\nprinciple nobles of her court. Years of unusual happiness passed\nover the heads of the fortunate adventurers of this history,\nuntil death, the destroyer of all things, conducted them to a\ngrave which must one day be the resting-place for ages of us all,\ntill the receiving angel shall sound his trumpet.\n\n\n\n\n           STORY OF HYJAUJE, THE TYRANNICAL GOVERNOR\n                 OF COUFEH, AND THE YOUNG SYED.\n\n\n\nAs Hyjauje (the Ommiad caliph) was was one day seated in his hall\nof audience, surrounded by his nobles and dependents, tremblingly\nawaiting his commands, for his countenance resembled that of an\nenraged lion, there suddenly entered, unceremoniously, into the\nassembly a beardless youth of noble but sickly aspect, arrayed in\ntattered garments, for misfortune had changed his original\nsituation, and poverty had withered the freshness of his opening\nyouth. He made the customary obeisance to the governor, who\nreturned his salute, and said, \"Who art thou, boy? what hast thou\nto say, and wherefore hast thou intruded thyself into the company\nof princes, as if thou wert invited? who art thou, and of whom\nart thou the son?\" \"Of my father and mother,\" replied the youth.\n\"But how earnest thou here?\" \"In my clothes.\" \"From whence?\"\n\"From behind me.\" \"Where art thou going?\" \"Before me.\" \"Upon what\ndost thou travel?\" \"Upon the earth\" Hyjauje, vexed at the\npertness of the youth, exclaimed, \"Quit this trifling, and inform\nme whence thou comest.\" \"From Egypt.\" \"Art thou from Cairo?\" \"Why\naskest thou?\" said the boy? \"Because,\" replied Hyjauje, \"her\nsands are of gold, and her river Nile miraculously fruitful; but\nher women are wanton, free to every conqueror, and her men\nunstable.\" \"I am not from thence, but from Damascus,\" cried the\nyouth. \"Then,\" said Hyjauje, \"thou art from a most rebellious\nplace, filled with wretched inhabitants, a wavering race, neither\nJews nor Christians.\" \"But I am not from thence,\" replied the\nyouth, \"but from Khorassan.\" \"That is a most impure country,\"\nsaid Hyjauje, \"whose religion is worthless, for the inhabitants\nare of all barbarians the most savage. Plunderers of flocks, they\nknow not mercy, their poor are greedy, and their rich men\nmisers.\" \"I am not of them,\" cried the youth, \"but of Moussul.\"\n\"Then,\" exclaimed Hyjauje, \"thou art of an unnatural and\nadulterous race, whose youths are catamites, and whose old men\nare obstinate as asses.\" \"But I am from Yemen,\" said the boy. \"If\nso,\" answered the tyrant, \"thou belongest to a comfortless\nregion, where the most honourable profession is robbery, where\nthe middling ranks tan hides, and where a wretched poor spin wool\nand weave coarse mantles.\" \"But I am from Mecca,\" said the boy.\n\"Then,\" replied Hyjauje, \"thou comest from a mine of\nperverseness, stupidity, ignorance, and slothfulness; for from\namong its people God raised up his prophet, whom they\ndisbelieved, rejected, and forced away to a strange nation, who\nloved, venerated, and assisted him in spite of the men of Mecca.\nBut whence comest thou, youth? for thy pertness is become\ntroublesome, and my inclination leads me to punish thee for thy\nimpertinence.\" \"Had I been assured that thou durst kill me,\"\ncried the youth, \"I should not have appeared before thee; but\nthou canst not.\" \"Woe to thee, rash boy,\" exclaimed Hyjauje; \"who\nis he that can prevent my executing thee instantly?\" \"To thee be\nthy woe,\" replied the youth: \"he can prevent thee who directs man\nand his inmost thoughts, and who never falsifieth his gracious\npromises.\" \"He it is,\" cried the tyrant, \"who instigates me to\nput thee to death.\" \"Withhold thy blaspheming,\" replied the\nyouth; \"it is not God, but Satan that prompts thy mind to my\nmurder, and with God I hope for refuge from the accursed: but\nknow, that I am from the glorious Medina, the seat of religion,\nvirtue, respectability, and honour, descended of the race of Bin\nGhalib, and family of Ali, son of Abou Talib, whom God has\nglorified and approved, and will protect all his posterity, which\nyou would extirpate; but you cannot root it out, for it will\nflourish even to the last day of the existence of this world.\"\n\nThe tyrant was now overcome with rage, and commanded the youthful\nSyed to be slain; but his nobles and officers interceded for him,\nsaying, while they bowed their necks before him, \"Pardon, pardon;\nbehold our heads and our lives a ransom for his! For God's sake\naccept our intercession, O ameer, for this youth is not deserving\nof death.\" \"Forbear your entreaties,\" exclaimed the tyrant, \"for\nwere an angel to cry from Heaven, 'Do not slay him!' I would not\nattend.\" Upon this the young Syed said, \"Thou ravest, O Hyjauje;\nwho art thou that an angel should be commissioned for thy sake?\"\nThe tyrant, struck with his magnanimity, became calm, and\ncommanding the executioner to release the youth, said, \"For the\npresent I forbear, and will not kill thee unless thy answers to\nmy further questions shall deserve it.\" They then entered on the\nfollowing dialogue; Hyjauje hoping to entrap him in discourse.\n\nHyjauje. How can the creature approach the perfection of the\nAlmighty?\n\nSyed. By prayer, by fasting, by the commanded alms, by\npilgrimage, and fighting for the cause of God.\n\nH. I serve him by shedding the blood of infidel man. You pretend\nthat Hassan and Houssain, your ancestors, were descendants of the\nprophet; but how can that be, when God has declared in the Koran\nMahummud was not of your obstinate race; but the prophet of God,\nand last of divine messengers?\n\nS. Hear the answer to that in the verse following it. \"Hath not a\nprophet come unto you of your own nation? Receive him, and from\nwhat he hath forbidden be forbidden.\" Surely, then, God hath\nforbidden the shedding of the blood of him whom he sanctified.\n\nH. Thou hast spoken justly, young man; but inform me what God\nhath daily and nightly commanded us as obligatory to do?\n\nS. To pray five times.\n\nH. What to observe in each year?\n\nS. To keep the month of Ramzaun as a fast.\n\nH. What to perform in the course of life?\n\nS. To make a pilgrimage to Mecca, the temple of God.\n\nH. Truly said; but what hath mostly dignified and enlightened\nArabia?\n\nS. The tribe of Koreish.\n\nH. Wherefore?\n\nS. Because of our holy prophet's being a member of it.\n\nH. Who were the most skilful in horsemanship in all Arabia, the\nmost valiant, and of best conduct in war?\n\nS. The tribe of Hashim.\n\nH. Why think you so?\n\nS. Because my grandfather Imaum Ali, son of Abou Talib, was one\nof it.\n\nH. What tribe of Arabs is most famous for benevolence, and\ncelebrated for liberality?\n\nS. The family of Tai.\n\nH. Wherefore?\n\nS. Because Hatim belonged to it.\n\nH. Which of the tribes have been most disgraceful to Arabia, and\nmost oppressive to its inhabitants?\n\nS. The tribe of Sukkeef.\n\nH. Why so?\n\nS. Because thou belongest to it.\n\nThe tyrant could scarcely now contain his anger; but said, hoping\nto cut the youth off from reply, \"Tell me, is the Capricorn of\nthe heavens male or female?\" To which he answered, \"Shew me its\ntail, that I may inform thee.\" The tyrant laughed, and continued\nhis questions as follows:\n\nH. Wert thou ever in love?\n\nS. Yes, completely immersed in it.\n\nH. With whom?\n\nS. With my God, who will, I trust, pardon me for my errors, and\ndeliver me from thee this day.\n\nH. Knowest thou thy God?\n\nS. Yes.\n\nH. By what means?\n\nS. By the scriptures, which he caused to descend to his prophet.\n\nH. Dost thou guard the Koran?\n\nS. Does it fly from me, that I should guard it?\n\nH. What dost thou learn from it?\n\nS. That God commanded its rules to be obeyed.\n\nH. Hast thou read and understood it?\n\nS. Yes.\n\nH. If so, tell me, first, What passage in it is most sublime.\nSecondly, Which most commanding. Thirdly, Which most just.\nFourthly, Which most alarming. Fifthly, Which most encouraging.\nSixthly, That which Jews and Christians both believe in.\nSeventhly, That in which God has spoken purely of himself; that\nwhere he speaks of the angels; that in which he mentions the\nprophets; that where he alludes to those destined to Paradise;\nand that in which he speaks of those devoted to hell; that which\nincludes ten points; and that which Eblis the accursed delivered.\n\nS. By God's help I will answer thee. The most sublime passage is\nthe Koorsee: the most commanding, \"God insisteth on justice:\" the\nmost just, \"Whoever diminishes the least of a measure, God will\nrequite him doubly, and the same to whoever addeth the least:\"\nthe most alarming, \"All expect to enter Paradise:\" the most\nencouraging, \"O my servants, who have mortified yourselves,\ndespair not of the mercy of God!\" that in which are ten points,\n\"God created the heavens and the earth, the revolutions of night\nand day; also, the firmament over the waters that it might profit\nman:\" that which is believed alike by jews and christians, \"The\nJew saith that the Christian is in error, and the Christian saith\nthat the Jew is mistaken, they both believe so; and both are in\nerror:\" that in which God hath spoken purely of himself, \"I have\nnot created genii and men but to worship me:\" that in which he\nspeaks of the angels, \"They said, we have no knowledge, but what\nthou hast taught us; for thou only art wise and all-knowing:\"\nthat which speaks of the prophets, \"How could we deliver you a\nverse without the order of God, on whom the faithful will rely:\"\nthat which mentions the devoted to hell, \"God hath cast us down\nfrom heaven, for we were transgressors:\" that which describes the\nblessed, \"Praised be God, who hath divested us of all sorrow, for\nour Lord is merciful and gracious:\" that which satan spoke, \"None\nwill profit by thy mercy but thy servants the blessed.\"\n\nHyjauje involuntarily exclaimed, \"Praised be God, who giveth\nwisdom to whom it pleaseth him; but I have found none so learned\nof such tender age.\" Having thus spoken, he put many other\nquestions to the youth in every science, and he answered them so\nreadily that the tyrant was overcome with admiration, and offered\nhim a residence at his court; but the young man declined it, and\nrequested his dismission, which he granted, conferring upon him a\nbeautiful female slave richly habited, a thousand pieces of gold,\nand a steed elegantly caparisoned. The courtiers were astonished\nat the bounty of the tyrant, which he perceiving, said, \"Be not\nsurprised, for the advice he hath given me was worthy of reward,\nand 'Cursed is he who doth not requite a sincere adviser,'\ndeclareth our sacred Koran.\"\n\n\n\n\n              STORY OF INS AL WUJJOOD AND WIRD AL\n             IKMAUM, DAUGHTER OF IBRAHIM, VIZIER TO\n                        SULTAN SHAMIKH.\n\n\n\nMany ages past there was a very powerful sultan who had a vizier\nnamed Ibrahim, and this minister had a daughter the most\nbeautiful of her sex and accomplished of her age, so that she\nbecame distinguished by the appellation of Wird al Ikmaum, or the\nrose among flowers. It was the custom of sultan Shamikh to hold\nannually a general assembly of all the nobles of his kingdom, and\npersons eminent for science or the arts, during which they were\nmagnificently entertained at the royal expense. The former\ndisplayed their prowess in martial exercises before the\nsovereign, and the latter the productions of their genius and\nskill; when valuable prizes were bestowed by the arbitration of\nappointed judges on those who deserved them. On one of the days\nof this festival, the vizier's daughter from a latticed balcony\nof the palace, in which she sat to view the sports, was so struck\nwith the manly figure and agility of a young nobleman named Ins\nal Wujjood (or the perfection of human nature), that love took\npossession of her mind. She pointed him out to a female\nconfidant, and gave her a letter to convey to the object of her\naffections. The young nobleman, who had heard her praises, was\nenraptured by his good fortune, and the next day, having obtained\nas full a sight of her beauties as could be had through the\ngolden wires of the balcony, retired overcome by love. Letters\nnow passed daily, and almost hourly, between them; but they were\nimpatient for a meeting, which was at length planned; but the\nnote fixing the place and time was unfortunately dropped by the\nconfidant and carried to the vizier; who, alarmed for the honour\nof his family, sent his daughter the same night to a far distant\ncastle belonging to himself, and situated on an island in a vast\nlake, surrounded by mountainous deserts thinly inhabited. The\nunfortunate lady was obliged to submit to her fate, but before\nher departure contrived to write on the outside of her balcony\nthe following words, \"They are carrying me off, but I know not\nwhere.\" In the morning her lover repairing, as usual, in hopes of\nseeing his mistress in the balcony, read the unwelcome\nintelligence, which for a time deprived him of his senses. When\nsomewhat recovered he resolved to leave the court, though then\nthe chief favourite of the sultan, and go in search of his\nbeloved. Having put on the habit of a wandering devotee, he, on\nthe following evening, quitted the city, and recommending himself\nto Providence, set out, but knew not whither. Many weeks did he\ntravel, but could find no traces of his beloved object; when\nsuddenly, passing through a thick forest, there met him a\nmonstrous lion, from whom he thought it impossible to escape, and\nhaving uttered a prayer for the happiness of his beloved, and\nrepeated the testimony of martyrdom, he resigned himself to his\nfate, and waited the spring of his expected devourer. What was\nhis surprise when the majestic animal, instead of making him his\nprey, on approaching close to him, having looked compassionately\nin his face, licked his hands, and turning round, walked gently\nonwards, moving his head, as if to signify the youth should\nfollow him. Ins al Wujjood did so, and was conducted through the\nforest by the lion; who, ascending a high mountain, suddenly\nstopped at the entrance of a cave, to which was a door of iron,\nthen moving his head, and once more licking the hands of his\ncompanion, the generous animal left him, and retired back to the\nwoods. The youth now went to the cave, and having knocked at the\ndoor, it was opened by a venerable hermit, who bade him welcome,\nbrought him warm water to wash his feet, and set before him\nrefreshments of various kinds. When he had eaten, he inquired the\ncause of his coming to such a desolate country; and Ins al\nWujjood having related his adventures, the old man exclaimed,\n\"Thou art a favourite of Heaven, or the lion would have devoured\nthee; despair not, therefore, of success, for my mind presages\nthat thou wilt be happy, nor shalt thou want my assistance.\" Ins\nal Wujjood having thanked him for his hospitality and generous\noffers, the hermit informed him, that for nearly twenty years\npast he had not beheld a human face till a few days prior to his\ncoming, when, wandering over the mountains, he had seen an\nencampment on the margin of the great lake below, in which\nappeared a crowd of men and women, some very richly habited, part\nof whom had embarked on board a stately yacht, and the remainder\nhaving taken leave of them, struck their tents, and returned by\nthe road they had come. \"Most probably,\" said the hermit, \"the\nyacht may have conveyed thy mistress to the castle which stands\non an island in the middle of the lake, and if so thou shalt soon\nbe safely landed: for the rest Providence must be thy guide. I\nwill this night remember thee in my prayers, and meditate on what\ncan be done for thy benefit.\" Having said this, the hermit\nconducted the wanderer to a chamber, and left him to his repose.\n\nThe beautiful Wird al Ikmaum during this time remained\noverwhelmed with uneasiness in her confinement, and it was in\nvain that her attendants tried to amuse her. She wandered\nmelancholy through the magnificent gardens of the castle, the\ngroves of which were filled with every variety of birds, whose\nharmony was delightful; but the soft cooing of the turtle dove\nand the plaintive note of the lovelorn nightingale alone caught\nher attention. To these she would listen for hours together,\nreclined on a mossy bank, and fancy their pensive strains the\nlanguage of her beloved. Such was her daily employment, nor would\nshe quit the garden till forced by her attendants to take shelter\nfrom the falling dews of night. We now return to her lover.\n\nFatigue and the consoling assurances of the friendly hermit had\ngreatly composed the mind of Ins al Wujjood, who enjoyed a\nrefreshing sleep, nor did he awake till the sun was mounted high\nin the heavens, when he joined his venerable host in his\ndevotions; after which they partook of a repast of bread, milk,\nand fresh fruits. This ended, the old man requested him to fetch\nfrom the forest a bundle of the filaments of palm bark, which,\nwhen brought to him, he plaited into a shape resembling a little\nboat, and giving it to Ins al Wujjood, said, \"Repair to the lake,\nand put this into the water, when it will become instantly large\nenough to hold thee, then embark in it, and trust to Heaven for\nthe rest. Farewell!\"\n\nIns al Wujjood having taken leave of his venerable friend the\nhermit, with many thanks, did as he had been commanded, and soon\narrived on the margin of the lake, into which he launched his\nlittle vessel, when, to his great surprise, it instantaneously\nbecame a handsome boat with the sails set. He got into it, and a\nfair wind springing up was soon out of sight of land. For some\ndays he was wafted over the deep; but at length the shore of an\nisland appeared, on which he landed, and made his boat fast to\nthe trunk of a large tree. He then walked into the country, and\nfound it beautifully interspersed with green meadows, clear\nstreams, and shady groves of bending fruit trees, on the branches\nof which all sorts of birds were warbling in their different\nstrains. Having refreshed himself with several fruits, he\nproceeded onwards, and at length came in sight of a superb\nedifice, to the gateway of which he advanced; but found it\nlocked. For three days he waited in hopes of seeing some of its\ninhabitants, but in vain. However on the fourth morning the gate\nwas opened by a man, who seeing Ins al Wujjood, advanced towards\nhim, and inquired who he was, whence he came, and what was his\nreason for waiting at the gate. \"I am of Ispahaun,\" replied Ins\nal Wujjood, \"and was shipwrecked in a trading voyage upon this\ncoast, to the shore of which I alone of all my companions had the\ngood fortune to escape.\" Upon hearing this the man burst into\ntears, embraced him, and said, \"May God preserve thee from future\ncalamities! I am also a native of Ispahaun, where also dwelt my\ncousin, whom I dearly loved, and by whom I was beloved. At this\nhappy period of my youth a nation stronger than ours made war\nagainst us, overcame us, and among other captives forced me from\nmy country; after which they sold me as a slave to my present\nmaster: but come, my dear countryman, enter the palace, and\nrepose thyself in my apartment, where we will endeavour to\nconsole each other under our misfortunes till Providence shall\nrestore us to our homes.\"\n\nIns al Wujjood gladly accepted such a friendly invitation, and on\nentering the court beheld a lofty and wide-spreading tree, from\nthe branches of which were suspended several golden cages, each\ninhabited by a beautiful bird, and each striving to rival the\nother in melody, as if in welcome of his approach. He inquired of\nhis host to whom the splendid edifice belonged, and was informed\nto the vizier of sultan Shamikh; who, to secure his daughter from\nthe vicissitudes of fortune, had lodged her here, and only\nvisited her annually to inquire after her health, and bring the\nnecessary supplies for her convenience and the support of her\nattendants in the castle. Upon hearing the above circumstances,\nIns al Wujjood was nearly overcome with ecstacy; but restraining\nhis feelings, exclaimed to himself, \"At length I have reached the\nabode of my beloved, and may hope for success;\" which was yet,\nhowever, afar off. His charming mistress, little thinking that\nher lover was so near, and weary of absence and the solitude of\nher abode, had that very evening resolved to escape from\nconfinement. In the darkness of night she accordingly let herself\ndown from the battlements by a silken rope, which she had twisted\nfrom slips of various robes, and reached the ground unhurt. With\nhaste she fled towards the sea shore, where she perceived a\nfishing boat, the owner of which, though at first alarmed,\nsupposing her, from her dazzling appearance (for she was covered\nwith jewels), to be an ensnaring genie, at length, on her\nassurances that she was really a woman, admitted her into his\nvessel. She thanked him for his kindness, which she rewarded by\nthe gift of many rich jewels, and requested to be conveyed across\nthe lake. The fisherman hoisted sail, and for some hours the wind\nwas prosperous; but now a heavy tempest arose, which tossed them\nconstantly in imminent danger for three days, and drove them far\nfrom their intended course. At length the gale subsided, the sea\nbecame assuaged, and land appeared. As they approached the shore\na stately city rose to their view, the buildings of which seemed\nunusually magnificent. Under the terrace of the sultan's palace\nthey safely, at last, cast anchor; and it chanced that the\nprince, who was named Dara, was then sitting with his daughter in\na balcony to enjoy the fresh sea breeze, and the view of the\nextensive harbour, crowded with the vessels of every country.\nPerceiving the boat, the sultan commanded his officers to bring\nthe master and his crew to the presence. Great was his surprise\nat the introduction of the beautiful Wird al Ikmaum. From her\nrich dress, dignified air, and demeanour, he concluded her to be\nof superior rank, and having seated her near his daughter, he\ngraciously requested to be informed of the name of her country,\nand the cause of her having travelled to his capital; to which\nshe replied in eloquent language, giving a summary detail of all\nher adventures. The sultan consoled her by encouraging assurances\nof his protection, promised to exert his authority to effect a\nunion with her beloved, and immediately dispatched his vizier\nwith costly presents to sultan Shamikh, requesting him to send\nIns al Wujjood to his court.\n\nThe vizier, after a prosperous voyage, having reached the capital\nof sultan Shamikh, presented his offerings, and made known the\nrequest of his master; to which the sultan replied, That nearly a\nyear had elapsed since Ins al Wujjood had, to his great regret,\nabsented himself from his court, nor had any tidings been\nobtained of the place of his retirement; but that he would order\nhis vizier to accompany the ambassador in search of his retreat,\nbeing willing to oblige his master the sultan to the utmost of\nhis power. Accordingly, after a repose of some days, the two\nviziers departed in search of Ins al Wujjood, but without knowing\nwhere to bend their journey. At length they reached the shore of\nthe ocean of Kunnooz, on which they embarked in a hired vessel,\nand sailed to the mountainous island of Tukkalla, of which the\nvizier of sultan Shamikh gave to his companion the following\naccount. \"This island was some ages back inhabited by genii; a\nprincess of whom became violently enamoured of a handsome young\nman, a son of an ameer of the city of Misr, or Cairo, whom she\nbeheld in her flight sleeping in his father's garden in the heat\nof the day. She sat down by him, and having gently awoke him, the\nyouth, on looking up, to his astonishment and rapture saw a most\nbeautiful damsel who courted his addresses: he was not backward\nin offering them; and mutual protestations of love and constancy\ntook place. After some hours of happiness the genie princess took\nan affectionate leave, promising soon to visit him again, and\nvanished from sight. The youth remained musing on his fortunate\nadventure till the dews of night began to fall, when his parents,\nfearful of some injury, sent attendants to conduct him to their\npalace, but he refused to go; and talked, as it appeared to them,\nso incoherently concerning his beloved, that they thought him\ndistracted; seized him roughly, and forced him homewards. His\nfather and mother were alarmed: it was in vain that they courted\nhim to partake of refreshment; he was sullen and gloomy, and at\nlength abruptly retired to his chamber, where he remained in\nrestless anxiety all night, waiting impatiently for morning, that\nhe might revisit the happy spot where his charmer had promised\nagain to meet him.\n\n\"At early dawn the ameer's son repaired to the garden, and was\nsoon gratified with the sight of his beloved; but while they were\nexchanging mutual protestations of regard, the mother of the\ngenie princess, who had suspected from her daughter's conduct\nthat she was carrying on some intrigue, and had followed her in\nthe air unperceived, suddenly appeared. Rushing upon the lovers,\nshe seized her daughter by the hair, beat, and abused her in the\nharshest language for having disgraced the honour of the genii by\nan amour with a wretched son of mortality: to all which the genie\nprincess replied, that her remonstrances were vain; she had fixed\nher affections, and would rather be torn into a thousand pieces\nthan desert the object of her heart. The mother upon this finding\nthe case desperate, and being herself softened by the uncommon\nbeauty of the youth, who had fallen at her feet, entreating mercy\nfor his beloved, at length relented, and agreed to sanctify their\nloves by her consent to their marriage. It was accordingly\ncelebrated; and this island, which after the name of the genie\nprincess was called Tukkalla, was fixed upon for the place of\ntheir residence. Its magnificent palace still remains, after the\nlapse of many ages, and is at present in my possession. Here I\nhope to meet my only daughter, whom I brought to reside in it\nnearly a year ago, to secure her from the attempts of a young\ncourtier, on whom she had, against my consent, fixed her\naffections.\"\n\nThe two viziers now disembarked, and proceeded up the island; but\nwhat was the astonishment and mortification of Ibrahim on\nlearning, when he arrived at the palace, that his daughter had\nescaped, nor had the attendants heard of her since her departure,\nthough they had repeatedly searched every quarter of the island.\nPerceiving among his attendants whom he had left at the palace a\nstrange young man of pallid countenance, wasted frame, and\nmelancholy air, the vizier inquired how he had come among them;\nand received for reply, that he was a shipwrecked merchant of\nIspahaun, whom they had taken in for the sake of charity. Ibrahim\nnow requested of the vizier of sultan Dara that he would return\nto his master, and inform him of their vain search after Ins al\nWujjood; at the same time desiring him to receive into his suite\nthe supposed merchant as far as the city of Ispahaun, which lay\nin his route. To this the vizier of sultan Dara consented: and\nthe two ministers having taken a friendly leave of each other\nseparated, and departed for their several capitals.\n\nThe vizier of sultan Dara, in the course of the journey, became\nso pleased with the agreeable manners of the supposed merchant,\nthat he often conversed with him familiarly; and at length the\nyoung man, emboldened by his condescending attention, ventured to\ninquire the cause of his travels to regions so distant from his\nown country: upon which he was informed of the arrival of the\nbeautiful Wird al Ikmaum at the court of sultan Dara; of the\ncompassion of that sultan for her misfortunes; his generous\nprotection; and his own fruitless mission in search of her lover\nIns al Wujjood. A this happy intelligence, the latter, overcome\nwith ecstacy, could no longer contain himself, but discovered who\nhe was; and the vizier was also overjoyed at knowing, when least\nexpected, that he had found the despaired of object of his long\njourney. He embraced the young man, congratulated him upon the\nspeedy termination of absence from his beloved, and the happy\nunion which awaited him. He then made him an inmate of his own\ntents, supplied him with rich attire, and every necessary\nbecoming the condition of a person for whose fortunes he knew his\nsovereign to be so highly concerned. Ins al Wujjood, now easy in\nmind, and renovated by the happy prospects before him, daily\nrecovered health and strength, so that by the time of their\narrival at the capital of sultan Dara he had regained his\npristine manliness and vigour.\n\nWhen the vizier waited upon his master the sultan Dara to\ncommunicate his successful commission, the sultan commanded the\nyouth to his presence. Ins al Wujjood performed the usual\nobeisance of kissing the ground before the throne, with the\ngraceful demeanour of one who had been used to a court. The\nsultan graciously returned his salutation, and commanded him to\nbe seated; after which he requested him to relate his adventures,\nwhich he did in eloquent language, interspersing in his narrative\npoetical quotations, and extempore verses applicable to the\nvarious incidents and situations. The sultan was charmed with his\nstory; and when he had finished its relation, sent for a cauzee\nand witnesses to tie the marriage knot between the happy Ins al\nWujjood and the beautiful Wird al Ikmaum; at the same time\ndispatching a messenger to announce the celebration of the\nnuptials to sultan Shamikh and Ibrahim his vizier, who were\nbewailing their supposed irrecoverable losses; one that of his\nfavourite, and the latter that of his daughter. Sultan Dara\ndetained the happy couple at his court for some time, after which\nhe dismissed them with valuable presents to their own country,\nwhich they reached in safety, and were received with the most\nheart-felt rejoicings by the sultan and the repentant vizier, who\nnow recompensed them by his kindness for the former cruelty of\nhis behaviour towards them; so that in favour with the sultan,\nand happy in their own family, the lovers henceforth enjoyed\nevery earthly felicity, sweetened by the reflection on past\ndistresses, till the angel of death summoned them to submit to\nthe final destination of mortality.\n\n\n\n\n             THE ADVENTURES OF MAZIN OF KHORASSAUN.\n\n\n\nIn ancient days there resided in the city of Khorassaun a youth\nnamed Mazin, who, though brought up by his mother, a poor widow,\nto the humble occupation of a dyer, was so celebrated for his\npersonal accomplishments and capacity as to become the admiration\nof crowds, who daily flocked to his shop to enjoy the pleasure of\nhis conversation. This young man was as good as he was able, nor\ndid flattery take away his humility, or make him dissatisfied\nwith his laborious occupation, which he followed with industry\nunceasing, and maintained his mother and himself decently from\nthe fruits of his labour. So delicate was his taste in the choice\nof colours, that veils, turbans, and vests of Mazin's dyeing were\nsought after by all the young and gay of Khorassaun; and many of\nthe females would often cast a wishful glance at him from under\ntheir veils as they gave him their orders. Mazin, however, was\ndestined by fate not always to remain a dyer, but for higher\nfortunes and surprising adventures.\n\nAs he was one day busy in his occupation, a man of Hijjem came to\nhis shop, and after looking at him earnestly for some moments,\nexclaimed, \"Alas, that such a noble youth should be confined to\ndrudge at so mean an employment!\" \"I thank you, father, for your\ncompassion,\" replied Mazin, \"but honest industry can never be\ndisgraceful.\" \"True,\" said the old man of Hijjem, \"yet if\nProvidence puts affluence and distinction in our way, should we\nrefuse it?\" \"By no means,\" said Mazin; \"canst thou point me out\nthe way to it without making me forfeit my integrity? If so, I\nassure thee I am not so fond of my trade but I would be glad to\nlive at ease in an honest manner without it; for I should like to\nenjoy leisure to follow my studies, which have already gained me\nsome little celebrity.\" \"Son,\" said the Hijjemmee, \"thy wishes\nshall be satisfied: thou hast no father, but I will be one to\nthee; from this instant I adopt thee as my son. I possess the art\nof transmuting common metals into gold: be ready at thy shop\nearly in the morning, when I will meet thee. Farewell!\" Having\nthus said, the old man took leave.\n\nMazin's curiosity and ambition were raised: he shut up his shop\nsooner than usual, and returned with a full heart to his mother,\nto whom he communicated the offered kindness of the Hijjemmee.\nThe good woman, after some moments of reflection, said, \"Son, I\nfear some evil lurks under this apparent kindness, for we live in\nwicked days, when men profess more than they mean to do for the\nsake of attaining an object; be cautious then, and do not till\nthou hast proof of his sincerity regard his office. We have at\npresent all we want, and what can riches give more?\" Mazin agreed\nto the propriety of his mother's advice, and promised to be wary.\nThey ate their usual cheerful meal, and retired to rest; but the\nyoung man could sleep but little, and he longed with impatience\nfor the morning that was to put him into possession of the art of\ntransmuting metals into gold.\n\nThe morning arrived, and Mazin repaired impatiently to his shop,\nwhere he had soon after the satisfaction of seeing his adopted\nfather, who came bearing in his hands a crucible. \"Welcome, son!\"\n\"Welcome, father!\" was the mutual salutation; after which the\nHijjemmee desired Mazin to kindle a fire: he did so, when the old\nman inquired of Mazin if he had any old metal, iron, brass,\ncopper, &c. Mazin produced some pieces of an old pot of the\nlatter metal, which were put into the crucible. When melted, the\nHijiemmee took from his turban a paper containing powder of a\nyellowish hue, which he threw into the crucible, over which he\nrepeated some cabalistic words while he stirred the melting\nmetal. At length he took it from the fire, and to his\nastonishment Mazin beheld a large lump of pure gold, which the\nHijiemmee desired him to carry to a goldsmith's and get it\nexchanged for coin He did did so, and received a handsome sum,\nwith which he returned to his adopted father.\n\n\"Well, my son,\" said the Hijjemmee, \"art thou now convinced of my\nskill, and my sincerity in offering to promote thy fortunes?\" \"I\nam,\" said Mazin, \"and am ready to follow wherever thou choosest,\nin hopes of learning this invaluable secret\" \"That shall soon be\nthine,\" replied the transmuter of metals; \"I will sup with thee\nthis evening, and in the privacy of retirement give thee the\nnecessary instruction.\" Mazin, overjoyed, immediately shut up his\nshop, and with his adopted father repaired to his own house,\nwhere he seated him in his best apartment. He then went to his\nmother, desiring that she would go and spend the night at a\nneighbour's, shewing her the gold which his broken copper had\nprocured, as a proof of the sincerity of his new friend. The old\nlady no longer doubted upon such evidence, and cheerfully took\nleave and departed to a friend's house.\n\nMazin next went to a cook's shop, from which he returned laden\nwith every sort of refreshment, nor was wine forgotten, though\nforbidden to the faithful. The adopted father and son ate\nheartily, at the same time pushing about the spirit-stirring\nliquor, till at last Mazin, who had not been used to drink wine,\nbecame intoxicated. The wily magician, for such in fact was his\npretended friend, watching his opportunity, infused into the\ngoblet of his unsuspecting host a certain potent drug, which\nMazin had scarcely drunk oft, when he fell back upon his cushion\ntotally insensible, the treacherous wizard tumbled him into a\nlarge chest, and shutting the lid, locked it. He then ransacked\nthe apartments of the house of every thing portable worth having,\nwhich, with the gold, he put into another chest, then fetching in\nporters, he made them take up the chests and follow him to the\nseaside, where a vessel waited his orders to sail, and embarked\nwith the unfortunate Mazin and his plunder. The anchor was\nweighed, and the wind being fair, the ship was soon out of sight\nof the land.\n\nMazin's mother early in the morning returning to her house found the\ndoor open, her son missing, and the rooms ransacked of all her\nvaluables. She gave a loud shriek, tore her hair, beat her bosom, and\nthrew herself on the ground, crying out for her son, who she thought\nmust have been murdered by the treacherous magician, against whose\nprofessions she had warned him to be cautious, till the sight of the\ntransmuted gold had deceived her, as well as the unfortunate victim of\nhis accursed arts. Some neighbours hearing her lamentations rushed in,\nlifted her from the ground, and inquired the cause of her distress;\nwhich, when informed of, they endeavoured to alleviate by every\nconsolation in their power, but in vain: the afflicted old lady was\nnot to be comforted. She commanded a tombstone to be raised in the\ncourt-yard, over which she sat night and day bewailing her son, taking\nscarcely food sufficient to preserve her miserable existence.\n\nThe infidel Hijjemmee, who was a wicked magician and a worshipper\nof fire, by name Bharam, hated the true believers, one of whom\nannually for several years past he had inveigled by his offers of\ninstructing in the science of transmuting metals into his power;\nand after making him subservient to his purposes in procuring the\ningredients necessary for his art, had treacherously put him to\ndeath, lest the secret should be divulged: such was now his\nintention towards the unfortunate Mazin.\n\nOn the evening of the second day after the sailing of the vessel,\nBharam thought proper to awaken his victim to a sense of his\nmisery. He opened the chest, which had been placed in his cabin,\nand poured a certain liquid down the throat of Mazin, who\ninstantly sneezed several times; then opening his eyes, gazed for\nsome minutes wildly around him. At length, seeing the magician,\nobserving the sea, and feeling the motion of the ship, his mind\nsurmised to him the misfortune which had happened; and he guessed\nhis having fallen into the snares of the treacherous Bharam,\nagainst which his mother had warned him, but in vain. Still,\nbeing a virtuous Mussulmaun, he would not complain against the\ndecrees of Heaven; and instead of lamentation uttered the\nfollowing verse of the sacred Koran: \"There is no support or\nrefuge but from the Almighty, whose we are, and to whom we must\nreturn. Deal gently with me, O my God, in the dictates of thy\nomnipotence; and make me resigned under thy chastening, O Lord of\nall being.\"\n\nHaving finished the above prayer, Mazin turning humbly towards\nhis accursed betrayer, said in a supplicating tone, \"What hast\nthou done, my father? didst thou not promise me enjoyment and\npleasure?\" The magician, after striking him, with a scowling and\nmalignant sneer, exclaimed, \"Thou dog! son of a dog! my pleasure\nis in thy destruction. Nine and thirty such ill-devoted wretches\nas thyself have I already sacrificed, and thou shalt make the\nfortieth victim to my enjoyment, unless thou wilt abjure thy\nfaith, and become, like me, a worshipper of the sacred fire, in\nwhich case thou shalt be my son, and I will teach thee the art of\nmaking gold.\" \"Cursed be thou, thy religion, and thy art,\"\nexclaimed the enraged Mazin: \"God forbid that for the pleasures\nof this world I should apostatize from our holy prophet, and give\nup the glorious rewards reserved in certain store for his\nfaithful disciples. Thou mayest indeed destroy my body, but my\nsoul despises thy torments\" \"Vile dog!\" roared out the now\nfurious sorcerer, \"I will try thy constancy.\" He then called in\nhis slaves, who held Mazin on the floor of the cabin while their\nabominable master beat him with a knotted whip till he was\ncovered with a gore of blood, but the resolute youth, instead of\ncomplaining, uttered only prayers to Heaven for divine support\nunder his pangs, and strength of fortitude to acquire the glory\nof martyrdom. At length the magician, exhausted by his cruel\nexercise, desisted, and making his slaves load his unfortunate\nvictim with heavy fetters, chained him down with only a coarse\nmat to lie upon in a dark closet, in which was placed some\nstinking water and coarse bread, just sufficient to keep up his\nmiserable existence. Mazin's courage was not to be overcome He\nwashed his wounds, and comforted himself with the hope that if he\ndied he should enjoy the blisses of Paradise, or if Providence\nhad decreed his continuance in life, that the same Providence\nwould present a mode of relief from his present and future\nafflictions. In this assurance he took a little of his wretched\nfare, and in spite of the agony of his wounds fell asleep, but\nonly to awake to fresh misery In the morning he was again\npersecuted by his cruel tormentor, who for three months daily\nharassed him with blows, with revilings, and every sort of insult\nthat malice could invent or cruelty devise.\n\nHitherto the wind had been fair, and the vessel had nearly\nreached the desired haven, when suddenly it changed, and a most\ntremendous storm arose The waves threatened to swallow up or dash\nthe vessel in pieces, so that all gave themselves over for lost.\nAt this crisis the sailors, who believed that the tempest was\nsent by Heaven as a judgment for their suffering the unfortunate\nMazin to be so cruelly tormented, went in a body to the accursed\nBharam, and accused him of having brought down the wrath of God\nupon the crew by his persecution of the young Mussulmaun; at the\nsame time threatening to cast him overboard if he did not\ninstantly release the youth from his confinement. To show the\nseriousness of their resolves, the sailors seized the slaves who\nhad been the instruments of the magician's cruelty, and threw\nthem into the sea, which so alarmed the treacherous Bharam that\nhe immediately released Mazin from his chains, fell at his feet,\nbegging pardon for his hard usage, and promising if they escaped\nthe storm to conduct him safely to his own country, and fulfil\nhis promise of instructing him in the secret of making gold.\nWonderful to relate! But no sooner was Mazin freed from his\nfetters than the violence of the tempest lessened, by degrees the\nwinds subsided, the waves abated their swell, and the sea no\nlonger threatened to overwhelm them: in a few hours all was calm\nand security, and a prosperous gale enabled the shattered vessel\nto resume her course.\n\nThe sailors now regarding Mazin as one immediately befriended by\nHeaven, treated him with the greatest respect and attention; and\nthe hypocritical magician pretending sorrow for his late\ncruelties, strove to procure his forgiveness and good opinion by\nevery art of flattery and affected contrition; which had such an\neffect on the ingenuous youth that he forgot his treachery, again\nbelieved his fair promises and assurances that the torments he\nhad undergone had only been inflicted as trials of his constancy\nand belief in the true religion, virtues necessary to be proved\nbefore the grand secret of transmuting metals could be trusted to\nhis keeping.\n\nThe remainder of the voyage was prosperous and happy, and at the\nexpiration of three months more the vessel anchored on the wished\nfor coast, which was rocky, and the beach strewed with pebbles of\nevery colour. The magician having given orders to the master of\nthe vessel to wait a month for their return, disembarked with\nMazin, and they proceeded together into the country. When they\nhad got out of sight of the ship the magician sat down, and\ntaking from his vestband a small drum, began to beat upon it with\ntwo sticks, when instantly a whirlwind arose, and a thick column\nof dust rolled towards them from the desert. Mazin was alarmed,\nand began to repent having left the vessel; when the magician,\nseeing his colour change, desired him to calm his apprehensions,\nfor which there was no cause, that he had only to obey his orders\nand be happy. He had scarcely spoken when the wind ceased, the\ndust dispersed, and three camels stood before them, one of which\nwas laden with water and provisions; the others were bridled and\nvery richly caparisoned. Bharam having mounted one, and, at his\ndesire, Mazin the other, they travelled without ceasing, except\nto take the necessary refreshment and repose, for seven days and\nnights successively over a wild and sandy desert.\n\nOn the eighth morning they reached a beautifully fertile tract,\ndelightfully watered by clear streams; the ground verdant, shaded\nby spreading trees laden with fruit, on whose branches various\nbirds warbled melodiously, and beneath them antelopes and other\nforest animals sported unmolested. At the end of a thick avenue\nrose to view a capacious dome of blue and green enamel, resting\nupon four columns of solid gold, each pillar exceeding in value\nthe treasures of the sovereigns of Persia and Greece. They\napproached the dome, stopped their camels and dismounted, and\nturned the animals to graze. This splendid building was\nsurrounded by a delightful garden, in which the now happy Mazin\nand the magician reposed themselves all that day and night. At\nsome distance from this enchanting spot appeared a stupendous\nfabric, whose numerous turrets and lofty pinnacles glittered to\nthe eye, and denoted a palace of uncommon magnificence, so that\nthe curiosity of Mazin was raised, and he could not help\ninquiring of his companion to whom such a superb edifice might\nbelong. The magician, rather roughly, desired him for the present\nto ask no questions concerning a place which belonged to his most\nbitter enemies, who were evil genii, and of whom at a proper time\nhe would give him the history. Mazin was silent, but from the\nmagician's manner he began to forbode some new treachery.\n\nIn the morning Bharam beat his magical drum, and the three camels\nappealed, when Mazin and his companion mounted, pursuing their\njourney in the same manner as before for seven days, with a speed\nmore resembling flight than the pace of travel, for their camels\nwere supernatural. On the eighth morning the magician inquired of\nMazin what he saw on the horizon. \"I behold,\" said he, \"to\nappearance, a range of thick black clouds extending from east to\nwest.\" \"They are not clouds,\" replied Bharam, \"but lofty\nmountains, called the Jubbal al Sohaub, or mountains of clouds,\nfrom their cloud-like appearance, on their summit lies the object\nof our journey, which with thy assistance we shall soon obtain,\nand return to our vessel more enriched than all the sovereigns of\nthe world, but thou must be sure to obey me in whatever I may\ncommand.\" Mazin promised to do so, but his heart trembled within\nhim as he beheld the gloomy prospect before him, and recollected\nthe boast which the accursed magician had made of his having\nsacrificed thirty-nine youthful victims on these mountains, and\nalso his threat on board the ship to make the fortieth offering\nof himself. He repented of having trusted himself from the\nvessel, but it was now too late to recede. He resigned himself to\nthe same Providence who had relieved his sufferings in his\nvoyage, and concealed, as well as he could, his uneasiness from\nthe magician, who now endeavoured to sooth and flatter him with\nartful promises and caresses.\n\nFor four days longer they pursued their route, when it was\nstopped by the black mountains, which formed, as it were, a wall\ninaccessible, for the precipices were perpendicular, as if\nscarped by art, and their tremendous height cast a dark and\ngloomy shade to a vast distance. They now dismounted, and turned\ntheir camels to graze, when the magician took out of his package\nthree loaves and a sum of water, after which he lighted a fire;\nthen having beat his talismanic drum, the camels again appeared,\nthe smallest of which he killed, embowelled, and carefully flayed\noff the skin, the inside of which he washed with water. Having\ndone thus, he addressed Mazin, saying, \"My son, the task must now\nbe thine to crown our labours with success. Enter this skin, with\nthese loaves and this water bag for thy sustenance while thou\nremainest on the summit of the mountain. Be not afraid, for no\nharm can happen I will sew up the skin, leaving room enough for\nthe admission of air. By and by a roc will descend, and seizing\nit in her talons carry thee easily through the air. When she\nshall have alighted on the table-land of the mountain, rip open\nthe stitches of the skin with thy dagger, and the roc on seeing\nthee will be instantly scared, and fly far away. Then arise,\ngather as much as possible of a black dust which thou wilt find\nthickly strewed on the ground; put it into this bag, and throw it\ndown to me, after which I will contrive an easy means for thy\ndescent, and when thou hast rejoined me we will return to our\nvessel, and I will convey thee safely back to thy own country.\nThe dust, which has the quality of transmuting metals into gold,\nwe will share between us, and shall each have enough to rival all\nthe treasuries on earth.\"\n\nMazin finding it in vain to oppose, allowed himself to be sewn up\nin the camel's skin with the loaves and water, recommending\nhimself by mental prayer to the protection of Allah and his\nprophet. The magician having finished his work retired to some\ndistance, when, as he had said, a monstrous roc, darting from a\ncraggy precipice, descended with the rapidity of lightning,\ngrasped the skin in her widely extended talons, and soaring\nswifter than the eagle soon alighted on the table-land of the\nmountain; when Mazin, feeling himself on the ground, ripped the\nstitches of his dangerous enclosure, and the roc being alarmed,\nuttered a loud scream and flew away. Mazin now arose, and walked\nupon the surface of the mountain, which he found covered with\nblack dust; but he beheld also the skeletons of the young men\nwhom the accursed Bharam, after they had served his purpose, had\nleft to perish. His blood became chilled with horror at the view,\nas he apprehended the same unhappy fate: he however filled his\nbag with the black powder, and advanced to the edge of a\nprecipice, from which he beheld the magician eagerly looking\nupwards to discover him. Mazin called out; and when the hypocrite\nsaw him, he began dancing and capering for joy, at the same time\nexclaiming, \"Welcome, welcome, my son! my best friend, beloved\nchild! all our dangers are now over, throw me down the bag.\" \"I\nwill not,\" said Mazin, \"but will give it thee when thou hast\nconveyed me safely from this perilous summit.\" \"That is not in my\npower,\" answered Bharam, \"till I shall have the bag: cast it\ndown, and I swear by the fire which I worship immediately to\nprocure thee a safe descent.\" Mazin, relying on his oath, and\nseeing no other chance of escape, cast down the bag; which having\ntaken up, the accursed sorcerer mounted his camel and was\ndeparting. The unhappy Mazin in agony called after him, saying,\n\"Surely thou wilt not forfeit thy oath, nor leave me to perish!\"\n\"Perish thou must, Mussulmaun dog!\" exclaimed the treacherous\nmagician, \"that my secret may be kept, nor can thy boasted\nprophet save thee from destruction; for around thee are mountains\nimpassable, and below a fathomless sea. I have obtained what I\nwished, and leave thee to thy fate.\" Having said thus he speeded\nonwards, and was soon out of sight.\n\nMazin was now in an agony of despair, not a ray of hope comforted\nhis mind; he beat his bosom, threw himself on the ground amid the\nmouldering skeletons of the former victims to the treachery of\nthe magician, and lay for some time in a state of insensibility.\nAt length the calls of hunger and thirst forced him back to a\nsense of wretched existence; and the love of life, however\nmiserable, made him have recourse to his water and his loaves.\nBeing somewhat revived, religion came to his aid, and he began to\npray for resignation to submit to the decrees of Heaven, however\npainful. He then walked to the edge of the mountain overhanging\nthe sea, which he observed to wash the base of the rock without\nany beach, at sight of which a desperate chance of escape struck\nhis mind: this was, to throw himself from the precipice into the\nocean, in hopes, should he survive the fall and rise to the\nsurface, he might reach land. He commended himself to God, shut\nhis eyes, held in his breath, and giving a desperate spring,\nplunged headlong into the dreadful abyss, which providentially\nreceived him unhurt, and a friendly wave drove him on shore;\nwhere, however, he remained some minutes in a lifeless stupor,\nowing to the rapidity of his descent from the brain-sickening\nprecipice.\n\nWhen his senses returned Mazin looked wildly around him, at first\nscarcely able to bear the light from the recollection of the\ndizzy eminence from which he had plunged; and an uneasy interval\nelapsed before he could persuade himself that the certainty of\ndeath was past. Convinced at length of this, he prostrated\nhimself to the earth, and exclaimed, \"In God alone is our refuge\nand support! I thought I should have perished, but his providence\nhas sustained me.\" He then wept exceedingly, entreated\nforgiveness of his offences, read several passages from the\nKoran, which he had preserved in his vestband, repeated the whole\nof his rosary, and besought the intercession of the prophet for\nhis deliverance from future dangers. After this he walked onwards\ntill evening, the fruits of the forest his food, his drink the\nwater of the streams, and his resting place the green turf. Such\nwas his progress, that after three days he reached the spot under\nthe mountain where he had been taken up by the roc in the camel's\nskin. He now recognized the road he had come; and after measuring\nback his steps for nine days, beheld on the last the superb\npalace, concerning which he had inquired of the magician, who had\ninformed him it was inhabited by evil genii, his most bitter\nenemies.\n\nFor some time Mazin hesitated whether he should advance to the\ngates of the palace; but considering that no greater calamity\ncould happen to him than he had already endured, he contemned\ndanger, and boldly advanced to a grand lodge built of white\nmarble exquisitely polished. He entered, and beheld on one of the\nraised platforms which skirted the passage into the court two\nbeautiful damsels playing at the game of chess; one of whom on\nbeholding him exclaimed, \"Surely, sister, this is the young man\nwho passed this way about a month ago with Bharam the magician?\"\n\"I am he!\" exclaimed Mazin, at the same time throwing himself at\nher feet, \"and entreat your hospitable protection.\" The lady,\nraising him from the ground, said, \"Stranger, you resemble so\nmuch a once beloved brother, that I feel inclined to adopt thee\nas such, if my sister will also agree to do so.\" The other lady\nreadily assented. They then embraced Mazin, seated him between\nthem, and requested to be informed of his adventures, of which he\ngave them a true narration.\n\nWhen Mazin had concluded his story, the ladies expressed\ncompassion for his misfortunes, and the strongest resentment\nagainst the accursed magician, whom they vowed to punish by a\ntormenting death for having had the insolence to accuse them of\nbeing evil genii. They then proceeded to acquaint him with the\ncause of their residence in this secluded palace, saying,\n\"Brother, for as such we shall henceforward regard you, our\nfather is a most potent sultan of a race of good genii, who were\nconverted by Solomon, the son of David, to the true faith; we are\nseven daughters by the same mother; but for some cause which we\ndo not know the sultan our father, being fearful of our becoming\nconnected with mankind, has placed us in this solitary spot. This\npalace was erected by genii for our accommodation; the meadows\nand forests around it are delightful, and we often amuse\nourselves with field sports, there being plenty of every sort of\ngame, as you must have observed. When we want horses or camels we\nhave only to beat a small magical drum, and they instantly attend\nour call, ready caparisoned. Our five sisters are at present at\nthe chase, but will soon return. Set thy heart at rest, forget\nthy misfortunes, which are now at an end, and thou shall live\nwith us in ease and pleasure.\"\n\nThe five sisters soon returned, and Mazin's adventures being\nrecounted to them they also adopted him as their brother; and he\ncontinued with these ladies, who strove to divert him all in\ntheir power by repeated rounds of amusements: one day they\nhunted, another hawked, another fished, and their indoor\npleasures were varied and delightful; so that Mazin soon\nrecovered his health, and was happy to the extent of his wishes.\nA year had elapsed, when Mazin one day riding out for his\namusement to the enamelled dome supported on four golden columns,\nperceived under it the accursed magician, and with him a youth,\nwhom, like himself, he had inveigled into his snares, and devoted\nalso to destruction. The rage of Mazin was kindled at the sight;\nhe drew his sabre, and rushing unperceived behind the sorcerer,\nwho was in the act of flaying a camel for the purposes already\ndescribed, seized him by his hair, and exclaimed, \"Wretch! the\njudgment of Heaven at length hath overtaken thee, and soon shall\nthy impure soul be plunged into that fire thou hast blasphemously\nadored.\" The magician struggled, but in vain. He then implored\nfor mercy and forgiveness; but Mazin, convinced by experience\nthat he deserved none, struck off his head at one blow. Then\ninforming the intended victim, who stood near gazing with\nastonishment, of the wicked arts of the accursed Bharam, and of\nhis own narrow escape from almost certain destruction, he advised\nthe young man to remount his camel, and return to the spot where\nhe had disembarked from the vessel, which would safely convey him\nback to his own country. The youth, having thanked him for his\ndeliverance, took his leave; and Mazin returned to the palace,\ncarrying with him the head of the magician as a trophy of his\nvictory. He was highly applauded for his prowess by the sisters,\nwho rejoiced in the destruction of so cruel an enemy to mankind.\n\nMany days had not elapsed after this event, when one morning\nMazin and the sisters sitting together in a gallery of the\npalace, observed a thick cloud of dust rising from the desert and\napproaching towards them. As it came nearer they perceived\nthrough it a troop of horsemen; upon which the sisters, desiring\nMazin to retire into an inner chamber, went to the gateway to\ninquire who the strangers might be. They were servants of the\ngenie sultan, father to the ladies, and sent by him to conduct\nthem to his presence, in order to attend the nuptials of a near\nrelation. Upon this summons the sisters prepared for the journey,\nand at the end of three days departed, assuring Mazin that they\nwould return in a month. At taking leave they gave him the keys\nof every apartment in the palace, telling him that he might open\nevery door except one, which to enter might be attended with\nunpleasant consequences, and therefore had better be avoided.\nMazin promised to observe their caution; and for many days was so\nwell amused in examining the magnificent rooms and curiosities of\nthe palace, that he did not feel a wish to transgress till the\nforbidden door alone remained unopened. Having then nothing to\ndivert him, he could not resist the impulse of curiosity, but\nunlocked the door, which opened on a marble staircase by which he\nascended to the terraced roof of the palace, from whence a most\ndelightful prospect feasted his sight. On one side his eye was\narrested by an extensive garden, in the centre of which, under\nshady trees, was a basin of clear water, lined with gems of every\ncolour and description. He resolved to visit this enchanting\nobject; and descending the staircase, explored his way through a\nlong arcade, which led him at length into the garden, in which he\ndiverted himself with the scenery it afforded for some time. He\nthen retired to an alcove on the margin of the basin, and sat\ndown; but had not rested many moments, when to his astonishment\nhe beheld descending from the sky a company of beautiful damsels,\nwhose robes of light green silk floating in the air seemed their\nonly support. Alarmed at such a preternatural appearance, he\nretired to the end of the alcove, from whence he watched their\nmotions. They alighted on the brink of the water, and having\nthrown off their robes, stood to the enraptured view of Mazin in\nnative loveliness. Never had he beheld such enchanting beauty;\nbut one even more exquisitely charming than the rest attracted\nhis gaze, and from the instant fixed the affections of his heart.\nThey now plunged into the basin, where for some time they amused\nthemselves by swimming, every now and then playfully dashing the\nwater over themselves and at each other. When satiated with\nfrolic they came out of the water, sat for some time on the\nverdant margin, then dressed themselves, and adjusting their\nrobes to the air, soared aloft, and were soon far from the sight\nof the enamoured Mazin, who followed them till his eyes could\nstretch no farther; then despairing of ever again beholding the\nobject of his affections, he fainted on the grass, and it was\nsome time before he recovered his senses. He returned melancholy\nto the palace, and spent the night in reposeless agitation.\n\nThe following morning the seven sisters returned; and she who had\nfirst welcomed him to their abode, and had ever since retained\nfor Mazin the purest affection, ran with eagerness to inquire\nafter his health. Great was her affliction on beholding him upon\nhis bed, pale, and apparently in a state of rapid decay. After\nmany kind questions, to which he returned no answers, she\nentreated earnestly, by the vow of brotherly and sisterly\nadoption which had past between them, that he would inform her of\nthe cause of his unhappy dejection; assuring him that she would\nuse every exertion to remove it, and gratify his wishes, be they\nwhat they might, however difficult to be obtained. Mazin upon\nthis, in a feeble tone, related his adventure in the garden; and\ndeclared that unless the beautiful (he supposed celestial) damsel\ncould be obtained for him he must die of grief. The sister bade\nhim be comforted, for in a short time his desires should be\nsatisfied, which revived his spirits, and he accompanied his kind\nhostess to welcome home her sisters, who received him with their\nusual hospitality, but were grieved and alarmed at the sad\nalteration in his appearance, of which they inquired the reason,\nand were informed that it was the effect of absence from his\ngenerous patronesses.\n\nThe next morning the sisters went upon a hunting excursion for\nten days, only one (his kindest friend) remained in the palace,\nunder pretence of attending Mazin, whose health, she said, was\ntoo delicate to bear the exercise of the chase. When the others\nwere departed, she informed Mazin that the beautiful beings he\nhad seen in the garden were of a race of genie much more powerful\nthan her own, that they inhabited a country surrounded by seas\nand deserts not to be approached by human exertion, that the\nladies he beheld were sisters to the queen of these genii, whose\nsubjects were entirely female, occasionally visited by male\ngenii, with whom they were in alliance for the sake of\npopulation, and to whom all the males were sent away as soon as\nborn. She further told him, that these females had the power,\nfrom their silken robes, of soaring through the air with a flight\nan hundred times swifter than that of any bird, that they were\nfond of recreating in verdant spots, and bathing in the clearest\nwaters, and that the garden he had seen them in was a favourite\nplace of their resort, so that they would probably soon visit it\nagain. \"Possibly,\" continued she, \"they may recreate themselves\nthere to-day; we will be on the watch, and if they appear, you\nmust fix your eye on your favourite, mark where she places her\nrobes, and while they are in the water seize and conceal them,\nfor deprived of these she cannot fly away, and you may make her\nyour prisoner. Bring her to the palace, and endeavour by\ntenderness and endearing attention to gain her affection and\nconsent to marriage; but remember when she is in your power to\nkeep her robes from her, for should she regain possession of them\nshe would certainly return to the Flying Islands, and you would\nsee her no more.\"\n\nMazin and his adopted sister now repaired to the garden, and\nseated themselves in the alcove, nor had they been there long\nwhen the fair genii appeared as before, descended on the margin\nof the basin, and all having undressed, each laying her robes by\nthemselves, rushed playfully into the water, in which they began\nto swim, dive, and besprinkle playfully each other. Mazin, whose\neager eye had ardently watched his beloved, swiftly, but\ncautiously, snatching up the robes of his mistress, conveyed them\nto the alcove unobserved by the fair bathers; who, when they had\nsufficiently amused themselves, quitted the water, and ascending\nthe bank, began to dress; but how can we describe the distressful\nconfusion of the unhappy genie whose robes had been stolen? Big\ntears rolled down her beautiful cheeks, she beat her bosom, tore\nher hair, and uttered loud shrieks, while her sisters, instead of\nconsoling her, were concerned only for their own safety, and\ndressing themselves with confused haste, bade her farewell,\nmounted into the air, and disappeared. On their departure, Mazin\nand his adopted sister approached, and saluting the disconsolate\ngenie endeavoured to console her, but for the present in vain,\nher mind being intent only on the sad captivity she thought\nawaited her, and the loss of her native country and relations.\nThey led her gently to the palace, and Mazin, retiring\nrespectfully, left her to the care of his adopted sister, who by\na thousand endearments and attentions so gained upon her, that in\ntwo days the genie began to recover her spirits, and consented to\nreceive Mazin as her husband, when the ladies should return from\nthe chase. On their arrival at the palace they were informed by\ntheir sisters of what had happened, and introduced to the fair\nstranger; who, diverted by their company and attentions, now\nscarcely regretted her captivity. Preparations were made for the\nnuptials, and in a short time Mazin was made happy in the\npossession of his beloved genie. A round of festivities succeeded\ntheir marriage, and the seven sisters strove with each other who\nshould by invention of new amusements make their residence among\nthem most delightful to the happy pair Mazin, however, now began\nto think of his mother and his native city with fond regret, and\nat length begged leave of his kind patronesses to return home, to\nwhich request they, from admiration of his filial love, though\nunwilling to part, consented, and a day was fixed for his\ndeparture. The time being arrived, the sisters beat their magical\ndrum, when several camels appeared at the gates of the palace\nheavily laden with the richest goods, a large sum of money,\nvaluable jewels, and refreshments for the journey, led by proper\nattendants. One camel carried a splendid litter for the\nconveyance of his wife, and another was richly caparisoned for\nthe use of Mazin, who, having taken an affectionate leave of his\ngenerous benefactresses, whom he promised to revisit at some\nfuture time, departed, and pursued the route back towards the sea\nshore, where he had disembarked with the magician. On the journey\nnothing remarkable occurred, and on their arrival at the coast\nthey found a vessel ready to receive them, when the wind proving\nfair, a short time carried them safely to Bussorah, where Mazin\nhad the satisfaction of finding his mother alive, though greatly\nwasted with constant grief and lamentation for his loss. To\ndescribe the joy of their meeting is impossible, for never was\nthere more tender affection between parent and child than\nsubsisted between Mazin and his mother. She seemed to gain new\nlife from his recovery, and again to grow young. The fair genie,\nwho was now in the way of being a mother, appeared perfectly\ncontented in her situation, and Mazin, so unexpectedly restored\nto his country, was happy in the possession of all he wished; for\nthe generous sisters had bestowed such wealth upon him, that, in\naddition to the domestic felicity he enjoyed, he was now one of\nthe richest persons in all Bussorah.\n\nThree years had rolled away in undisturbed happiness, during\nwhich the fair genie had borne him two sons, when Mazin thought\nit grateful to perform his promise to the seven sisters, the\nbenevolent foundresses of his good fortune. Having accordingly\nmade preparations for his journey, he committed his wife's native\nrobes to the care of his mother, giving her the key of a secret\nrecess in which he had lodged them, but with a strict charge not\nto let the genie put them on, lest an irresistible impulse might\ninspire her to fly away to her own country; for though in general\nshe had seemed contented, he had heard her now and then express a\nwish to be again with her own friends and species. The mother\npromised obedience, and Mazin having taken an affectionate leave\nof her, his wife and children, with assurances of speedy return,\nembarked on board a vessel and pursued his voyage, which was\nuncommonly prosperous. On his landing he found camels waiting his\narrival on the beach, for the genie ladies, by magic arts, knew\nof his coming, and had stationed them for his conveyance to their\npalace, which he reached in safety, and was received with the\nmost affectionate welcomes and hospitality.\n\nSome time after the departure of Mazin, his wife requested her\nmother-in-law's permission to amuse herself at a public bath, and\nthe old lady willingly accompanied her and the children to the\nmost celebrated hummaum in the city, which was frequented by the\nladies and those of the chief personages of the court, the caliph\nHaroon al Rusheed then happening to be at Bussorah. When they\nreached the bath there were then in it some of the principal\nfemale slaves, attendants of Zobeide, who, on the entrance of\nMazin's wife, were struck with her uncommon beauty, and instantly\ncollecting round her, rapturously gazed upon her as she was\nundressing.\n\nThe slaves of Zobeide did not cease to admire Mazin's wife till\nshe left the hummaum, and even followed her till she entered her\nown house, when dusk had begun to gloom, and they became\napprehensive of their mistress's being displeased at their long\nabsence, and so it happened.\n\nUpon entering into her presence, Zobeide exclaimed, \"Where have\nye loitered, and what has been the cause of your unusually long\nstay at the hummaum?\" Upon which they looked confusedly at each\nother, and remained silent. The sultana then said in anger,\n\"Instantly inform me of the cause of your delay!\" when they\nrelated the wonderful beauty of Mazin's wife, and dwelt so much\nupon her charms, that Zobeide was overcome by curiosity to behold\nthem. On the following day she sent for the mother of Mazin, who\nobeyed the summons with fear and trembling, wondering what could\nhave made the caliph's consort desirous of seeing a person of her\ninferior rank.\n\nMazin's mother prostrated herself, and kissed the feet of the\nsultana, who graciously raising her, said, \"Am Mazin, our wish is\nthat you introduce to me your son's wife, of whose beauty I have\nheard such a description, that I long to behold her.\"\n\nWhen the mother of Mazin heard these words, her heart sunk within\nher, she trembled, but dared not refuse the command of Zobeide,\nand she said, \"To hear is to obey!\" after which she took leave,\nwith the usual ceremony of prostration before the throne of the\nsultana.\n\nWhen the mother of Mazin left the princess Zobeide she returned\ntowards her own house; and when she had reached it, entered to\nher son's wife, and said, \"Our sultana Zobeide hath invited thee\nto an entertainment.\" The wife of Mazin was delighted, instantly\nrose up, arrayed herself in the richest apparel she was mistress\nof, and dressed her two children in their choicest garments and\nornaments Then with them, the mother of her husband, and a black\nslave, she proceeded, till they reached the palace of the\nprincess Zobeide, which they entered, and found her sitting in\nimpatient expectation. They kissed the ground be fore her, and\nprayed for her prosperity.\n\nWhen the sultana Zobeide beheld the wife of Mazin her senses were\nconfounded, her heart fluttered, she was astonished at her\nbeauty, elegance, graceful stature, and blooming complexion, and\nexclaimed, \"Gracious heaven! Where could such a form as this have\nbeen created?\" Then she seated her guests, and ordered a\ncollation to be brought in, which was done immediately, when they\nate and were satisfied, but Zobeide could not keep her eyes from\nthe wife of Mazin of Bussorah. She kissed her, and questioned her\nconcerning what had befallen herself and her husband. Her\nastonishment was redoubled on the relation of their adventures.\n\nThe wife of Mazin then said, \"My princess, if you are thus\nsurprised, though you have not seen me in my native robes, how\nwould you be delighted at my appearance in them! If, therefore,\nyou wish to gratify your curiosity by beholding a miracle, you\nmust command the mother of my husband to bring my country dress.\"\nUpon this Zobeide commanded the mother of Mazin to fetch the\nflying robes, and as she dared not disobey the sultana of the\ncaliph, she went home, and speedily returned with them. Zobeide\ntook them into her hands, examined them, and was surprised at\ntheir fashion and texture. At length she gave them to the wife of\nMazin.\n\nWhen the wife of Mazin had received the robes, she unfolded them,\nand going into the open court of the palace, arrayed herself in\nthem, then taking her children in her arms, mounted with them\nsuddenly into the air. When she had ascended to about the height\nof sixty feet, she called out to the mother of her husband,\nsaying, \"Give my adieu, dear mother, to my lord, and tell him,\nshould ardent love for me affect him he may come to me in the\nislands of Waak al Waak.\" After this speech she soared towards\nthe clouds, till she was hidden from their eyes, and speeded to\nher own country.\n\nWhen the mother of Mazin beheld her in the air, she beat her\ncheeks, scattered dust upon her head, and cried aloud to the\nprincess Zobeide, \"This is thy mischief.\" Zobeide was not able to\nanswer or reprove her boldness from the excess of her sorrow and\nregret, which made her repent, when repentance could not avail.\nThe old lady returned in despair to her own habitation.\n\nThus it happened to the persons above mentioned, but how was it\nwith the affairs of Mazin? He did not cease travelling for some\ntime, till he arrived at the palace of the seven sisters, and\npaid his respects. They were rejoiced at his arrival, and\ninquired after his wife, when he informed them she was well, and\nthat God had blessed him with two children, both sons, which\nadded to their satisfaction. He remained with them for some time,\nafter which he entreated their permission to depart. They took a\ntender leave of him, when he bade them farewell, and returned\ntowards his own country; nor did he halt till he arrived in\nsafety at Bussorah. When he entered his house he found his mother\nalone, mournfully weeping and lamenting what had happened in his\nabsence. Seeing her in this state, he inquired the cause, upon\nwhich she informed him of all that had occurred, from the\nbeginning to the conclusion.\n\nWhen Mazin had heard the unwelcome intelligence, he cried out in\nan agony of distress for the loss of his wife and children, fell\nfainting to the ground, and forgot his own existence. His mother,\non beholding his condition, beat her cheeks, and sprinkled water\nupon his face till he came to himself, when he wept and said to\nhis mother, \"Inform me what my wife may have spoken on her\ndeparture.\" She repeated her farewell words: upon hearing which\nhis distress and ardent longing for his wife and children was\nredoubled. He remained mournfully at home for the space of ten\ndays, after which he resolved upon the journey to the islands of\nWaak al Waak, distant from Bussorah one hundred and fifty years\nof travel.\n\nMazin departed from his mother after he had taken leave and\nentreated her prayers for his success, but the aged matron was so\naffected that she ordered her tomb to be prepared, and did\nnothing but weep and lament night and day for her son, who did\nnot halt till he had reached the palace of the seven sisters.\nWhen they saw him they were surprised, and said to one another,\n\"There must be some urgent cause for his returning so speedily.\"\nThey saluted him, and inquired after his affairs: upon which he\ninformed them of the desertion of his wife, what she had said at\ngoing away, and of his resolves to travel to the islands of Waak\nal Waak. The seven ladies replied, \"This expedition is impossible\nto be accomplished either by thee or any of thy race; for these\nislands are distant a hundred and fifty years' journey, so that\nthou canst not live to reach them.\" Mazin exclaimed, \"My\nattempting it, however, is incumbent upon me, though I may perish\non the road: if God has decreed my reunion with my wife I shall\nmeet her again; but if not, I shall die and be received into the\nmercy of the Almighty.\" The sisters did not cease to importune\nhim to lay aside the journey, but it was impossible for him to\nobey them or remain at ease; upon which their grief for his\nsituation increased. They knew that the distance was such as he\ncould never overcome by human aid, or rejoin his wife, but they\nrespected his ardent love for her and his children.\n\nOn this account they consulted with one another how to assist him\non the journey. He remained with them a month, but unable to\nrepose or enjoy their entertainments. The sisters had two uncles,\none named Abd al Kuddoos, and the other Abd al Sulleeb, who lived\nat three months distance from them, to whom they wrote in\nrecommendation of Mazin as follows.\n\n\"The bearer is our friend Mazin of Bussorah. If you can direct\nhim how to reach the islands of Waak al Waak, assist him; but if\nnot, prevent him from proceeding, lest he plunge himself into\ndestruction. At present he will not attend to our advice or\nreproofs, from excess of love to his wife and children, but\nthrough you there may finally occur to him safety and success.\"\n\nWhen they had sealed this letter they gave it to Mazin, and\nbestowed also upon him, of water and provisions, what would\nsuffice for three months' consumption, laden upon camels, and a\nsteed for his conveyance, upon which he took leave of them with\nmany thanks, fully resolved to pursue his journey to the islands\nof Waak al Waak.\n\nWith much pain and difficulty he pursued his journey, nor had he\nany pleasure either in eating or drinking during the three months\nof his pilgrimage. At length he reached a verdant pasturage, in\nwhich was a variety of flowers, flocks of sheep, and cattle\nfeeding. It was indeed a paradise upon earth. In one part of it\nhe perceived a pleasant eminence on which were buildings: he\nadvanced to them, and entered a court. Within it he beheld a\nvenerable looking personage, his beard flowing to his middle,\nwhom he saluted; when the sage returned his compliments, welcomed\nhim with respectful demeanour, and congratulated him on his\narrival. He seated him, and laid before him a collation, of which\nthey both ate till they were satisfied.\n\nMazin lodged with him that night, and in the morning the sage\ninquired of him his situation, and the reason of his coming to\nsuch a sequestered spot.\n\nMazin informed him; and, behold! this personage was Abd al\nKuddoos; who, when he heard his guest mention particulars of his\nbrother's children, redoubled his attentions to him, and said,\n\"Did they give you any letter?\" Mazin replied, \"Yes.\" He eagerly\nexclaimed, \"Give it to me.\" He gave it him, when he opened it,\nread it to himself, and considered the contents word byword.\n\nAbd al Kuddoos gazed earnestly at Mazin; reflected on his\nadventures, at which he was astonished; and how he had plunged\nhimself into danger and difficulty in such a wild pursuit. He\nthen said to him, \"My son, my advice is, that thou return by the\nway which thou hast come, and no longer vex thy soul on account\nof impossibilities, for this business thou canst not accomplish.\nI will write to the daughters of my brother what shall make thee\nhappy with them, and restore thy peace. Return then to them, and\nperplex not thyself farther, for between this spot and the\nislands of Waak al Waak is the distance of a hundred and fifty\nyears' journey. On the way also are numerous perils, for in it\nare the abodes of genii, the haunts of wild beasts, and monstrous\nserpents, and some parts also where food cannot be had or thirst\nbe gratified. Have compassion then, my son, upon thyself, and\nrush not on destruction.\"\n\nAbd al Kuddoos continued to dissuade him from his resolution\nduring three days, but he would not hear advice or reproof. On\nthe third he prepared to depart, being sufficiently refreshed;\nupon which the old man, seeing his steadiness, arose, kindled a\nfire, cast into it some perfumes, and uttered incantations, to\nMazin unintelligible; when suddenly appeared a genie, in stature\nforty cubits; he was one of the subdued spirits of our lord\nSolomon. He muttered and growled, saying, \"For what, my lord,\nhast thou summoned me here? shall I tear up this eminence by the\nroots, and hurl it beyond the mountains of Kaaf?\"\n\nAbd al Kuddoos replied, \"God be merciful to thee; I have occasion\nfor thee, and request that thou wilt accomplish my wish in one\nday:\" upon which the genie answered, \"To hear is to obey.\"\n\nAbd al Kuddoos then said to the genie, \"Take up this young man,\nand convey him to my brother Abd al Sullecb.\" He consented,\nthough the distance was a common journey of seventy years. The\ngenie advanced, seized Mazin, and placing him upon his shoulders,\nsoared with him through the air from morning till sunset, when he\ndescended before Abd al Sulleeb, paid his respects, and informed\nhim of the commands of his brother Abd al Kuddoos. Upon this he\ngreeted Mazin, who presented him the letter from the daughters of\nhis brother, which he opened and read. When he had examined the\ncontents, he was astonished at the circumstances which had\nbefallen Mazin, his arrival with him, and his resolve to\npenetrate to the islands of Waak al Waak. He then said to him,\n\"My son, I advise that thou vex not thyself with these\ndifficulties and dangers, for thou canst never attain thy object,\nor reach these islands.\"\n\nMazin now began to despair, and at the remembrance of his wife\nand children to weep bitterly, insomuch that he fainted, which,\nwhen Abd al Sulleeb beheld, his heart sympathized with his\nunhappy condition. He perceived that he would not return from his\npursuit, or be controlled, and therefore thought it best to\nassist his progress towards the islands. Going into another\napartment, he kindled a fire, over which he sprinkled some\nperfumes, and uttered incantations; when, lo! ten genii presented\nthemselves before him, and said, \"Inform us, my lord, what thou\ndesirest, and we will bring it thee in an instant.\" He replied,\n\"May God be gracious unto you!\" and related to them the story of\nMaxin, his wife, and children.\n\nWhen the ten genii had heard the narration, they exclaimed, \"This\naffair is wonderful and miraculous; however, we will take and\nconvey him safely over the mountains and deserts, to the extent\nof our country and dominion, and leave him there, but cannot\npromise further assistance, as we dare not pass a step beyond our\nown territories, for the land belongs to others. In it are\ninnumerable horrors, and we dread the inhabitants.\" Mazin having\nheard what they said, exclaimed, \"I accept your offer with\ngratitude.\"\n\nThe ten genii now took up Mazin, soared with him through the air\nfor a night and day, till they came to the limits of their\nterritories, and then set him down in a country called the land\nof Kafoor, took, their leaves, and vanished from his sight. He\nwalked onwards, and did not neglect to employ his tongue in\nprayer, beseeching from God deliverance and the attainment of his\nwishes. Often would he exclaim, \"O God, deliverer from bondage,\nwho canst guide in safety over mountains, who feedest the wild\nbeasts of the forest, who decreest life and death, thou canst\ngrant me if thou choosest relief from all my distress, and free\nme from all my sorrows.\"\n\nIn this manner did he travel onwards during ten days; on the last\nof which he beheld three persons contending with each other, each\nman trying to kill his fellow. He was astonished at their\nconduit, but advanced towards them. Upon his approach they\ndesisted from combat, and one and all exclaimed, \"We will be\njudged before his young man, and whoever contradicts his opinion\nshall be deemed in the wrong.\" To this they agreed, and coming up\nto Mazin, demanded from him a just arbitration in their dispute.\nThey then displayed before him a cap, a small copper drum, and a\nwooden ball, saying, \"We are three brothers, by the same father\nand mother, who are both received into the mercy of God, leaving\nbehind them these articles. They are three, and we are three; but\na dispute hath fallen out among us respecting their allotment, as\neach of us says, 'I will have the cap.' Our contention made us\nproceed to blows, but now we are desirous that thou shouldst\narbitrate between us, and allot an article to each of us as thou\nshall judge best, when we will rest satisfied with thy decision,\nbut should either contradict it he shall be adjuged an offender.\"\n\nWhen Mazin heard the above he was surprised, and said to himself,\n\"These articles are so paltry and of such trifling value as not\nto be worth an arbitration; for surely this shabby cap, the drum,\nand the wooden ball, cannot be worth altogether more than half a\ndeenar; but I will inquire farther about them.\" He then said, \"My\nbrethren, wherein lies the value of these three things about\nwhich you were contending, for to me they appear of very little\nworth.\" They replied, \"Dear uncle, each of them has a property\nworth treasuries of wealth, and to each of them belongs a tale so\nwonderful, that wert thou to write it on a tablet of adamant it\nwould remain an example for those who will be admonished.\"\n\nMazin then requested that they would relate to him the stories of\nthe three articles, when they said, \"The eldest brother shall\nfirst deliver the account of one, its properties, what can be\ngained from them, and we will not conceal any thing from thee.\"\n\n\"This cap,\" said the elder brother, \"is called the cap of\ninvisibility, by which, whoever possesseth it may become\nsovereign of the world. When he puts it on, he may enter where he\npleases, for none can perceive him, either genii or men, so that\nhe may convey away whatever he chooses, unseen, in security. He\nmay enter the cabinets of kings and statesmen, and hear all they\nconverse upon respecting political intrigues. Does he covet\nwealth, he may visit the royal treasuries, and plunder them at\nhis pleasure; or does he wish for revenge, he can kill his enemy\nwithout being detected. In short, he may act as he pleases\nwithout fear of discovery.\"\n\nMazin now said to himself, \"This cap can become nobody but me, to\nwhom it will be most advantageous in the object of my expedition.\nPerhaps it may conduct me to my wife and children, and I may\nobtain from its possession all I wish. It is certainly one of the\nwonders of the world and rarities of the age, not to be found\namong the riches of kings of the present day.\" When he had\nruminated thus, he said, \"I am acquainted with the properties of\nthe cap, what are those of the drum?\"\n\nThe second brother began, saying, \"Whoever has this drum in his\npossession, should he be involved in a difficult situation, let\nhim take it out of its case, and with the sticks gently beat upon\nthe characters engraven on the copper; when, if his mind be\ncollected and his courage firm, there will appear to him\nwonderful matters. The virtue of it consists in the words\ninscribed upon it, which were written by our lord Solomon Bin\nDavid in talismanic characters, each of which has control over\ncertain spirits and princes of the genii, and a power that cannot\nbe described in speech. Hence, whoever is master of this drum may\nbecome superior to all the monarchs of the present day, for, on\nhis beating it in the manner already described, when he is\npressed for help, all the princes of the genii, with their sons,\nwill appear also their troops and followers, ready to obey his\ncommands. Whatever he may order them to execute they will perform\nby virtue of the talisman of our lord Solomon Bin David.\"\n\nWhen Mazin of Bussorah had heard the above, he said to himself,\n\"This drum is fitting only for me, as I have much more need of it\nthan the brothers. It will protect me from all evil in the\nislands of Waak al Waak, should I reach them, and meet with my\nwife and children. It is true, if I take only the cap I may be\nable to enter all places, but this drum will keep injury from me,\nand with it I shall be secure from all enemies.\" After this, he\nsaid, \"I have been informed of the virtues of the cap, and the\nproperties of the drum, there now only remains the account of the\nwooden ball, that I may give judgment between you, therefore let\nthe third brother speak.\" He answered, \"To hear is to obey.\"\n\nThe third brother said, \"My dear uncle, whoever possesses this\nball will find in it wonderful properties, for it brings distant\nparts near, and makes near distant, it shortens long journeys, and\nlengthens short ones If any person wish to perform one of two\nhundred years in two days, let him take it from its case, then\nlay it upon the ground and mention what place he desires to go,\nit will instantly be in motion, and rush over the earth like the\nblast of the stormy gale. He must then follow it till he arrives\nat the place desired, which he will have the power to do with\nease.\"\n\nWhen the youth had concluded his description of the virtue of the\nwooden ball, Mazin resolved within himself to take this also from\nthe brothers, and said, \"If your wish be that I should arbitrate\nbetween you, I must first prove the virtues of these three\narticles, and afterwards let each take that which may fall to him\nby decision.\" The three brothers exclaimed, \"We have heard, and\nwe consent; act as thou thinkest best, and may God protect thee\nin thy undertakings!\" Mazin then put on the cap, placed the drum\nunder his vestband, took up the ball and placed it on the ground,\nwhen it speeded before him swiftly as the gale. He followed it\ntill it came to the gate of a building which it entered, and\nMazin also went in with it. The brothers ran till they were\nfatigued, and cried out, \"Thou hast sufficiently tried them;\" but\nin vain, for by this time there was between him and them the\ndistance of ten years' journey. Mazin now rested, took the drum\nin his hands, rubbed his fingers over the talismanic characters,\nhesitated whether he should strike them with the sticks, then\nlabored lightly upon them, when, lo! a voice exclaimed, \"Mazin,\nthou hast gained thy desires.\n\n\"Thou wilt not, however,\" continued the voice, \"arrive at thy\nobject till after much trouble, but take care of the ball in this\nspot, for thou art at present in the land of the evil genii.\"\nUpon this, Mazin took up the ball and concealed it in his\nclothes; but he was overcome with astonishment at hearing words\nwithout seeing the speaker, and exclaimed, \"Who art thou, my\nlord?\" \"I am,\" replied the voice, \"one of the slaves of the\ncharacters which thou seest engraved upon the drum, and\nunremittingly in attendance; but the other servants will not\nappear except the drum be beaten loudly, when three hundred and\nsixty chiefs will attend thy commands, each of whom has under his\nauthority ten thousand genii, and every individual of them\nnumerous followers.\"\n\nMazin now inquired the distance of the islands of Waak al Waak;\nto which the voice replied, \"Three years' journey:\" upon which he\nstruck the ball before him, and followed it. He next arrived in a\nregion infested by serpents, dragons, and ravenous beasts, in the\nmountains of which were mines of copper. He now again tabored\ngently upon the drum, when the voice exclaimed, \"I am ready to\nobey thy commands.\"\n\n\"Inform me,\" said Mazin, \"what is the name of this country?\" \"It\nis called,\" answered the voice, \"the Land of Dragons and Ravenous\nAnimals. Be careful then of thyself, and make no delay, nor\nregard fatigue, for these mountains are not to be passed without\na chance of trouble from the inhabitants, who are genii, and in\ntheir caves are furious wild beasts.\" Upon this he struck the\nball afresh, and followed it unceasingly, till at length he\nreached the sea shore, and perceived the islands of Waak al Waak\nat a distance, whose mountains appeared of a fiery red, like the\nsky gilded by the beams of the setting sun. When he beheld them\nhe was struck with awe and dread; but recovering, he said to\nhimself, \"Why should I be afraid? since God has conducted me\nhither, he will protect me; or, if I die, I shall be relieved\nfrom my troubles, and be received into the mercy of God.\" He then\ngathered some fruits, which he ate, drank some water, and having\nperformed his devotions, laid himself down to sleep, nor did he\nawake till the morning.\n\nIn the morning Mazin had recourse to his drum, which he rubbed\ngently, when the voice inquired his commands. \"How am I,\" said\nhe, \"to pass this sea, and enter the islands?\" \"That is not to be\ndone,\" replied the voice, \"without the assistance of a sage who\nresides in a cell on yonder mountains, distant from hence a day's\njourney, but the ball will conduct thee there in half an hour.\nWhen you reach his abode, knock softly at the door, when he will\nappear, and inquire whence you come, and what you want. On\nentering he will receive thee kindly, and desire thee to relate\nthy adventures from beginning to end. Conceal nothing from him,\nfor he alone can assist thee in passing the sea.\"\n\nMazin then struck the ball, and followed it till he arrived at\nthe abode of the hermit, the gate of which he found locked He\nknocked, when a voice from within said, \"Who is at the gate?\" \"A\nguest,\" replied Mazin upon which the sage arose and opened the\ndoor, admitted him, and entertained him kindly for a whole night\nand day, after which Mazin ventured to inquire how he might pass\nthe sea The sage replied, \"What occasions thy searching after\nsuch an object?\" Mazin answered, \"My lord, I intend to enter the\nislands, and with that view have I travelled far distant from my\nown country.\" When the sage heard this, he stood up before him,\ntook a book, opened it, and read in it to himself for some time,\nevery now and then casting a look of astonishment upon Mazin. At\nlength he raised his head and said, \"Heavens! what troubles,\ndisasters, and afflictions in exile have been decreed to this\nyouth in the search of his object!\" Upon this Mazin exclaimed,\n\"Wherefore, my lord, did you look at the book and then at me so\nearnestly?\" The sage replied, \"My son, I would instruct thee how\nto reach the islands, since such is thy desire, but thou canst\nnot succeed in thy desires till after much labour and\ninconvenience. However, at present relate to me thy adventures\nfrom first to last\" Mazin rejoined, \"My story, my lord, is such a\nsurprising one, that were it engraven on tablets of adamant, it\nwould be an example for such as would take warning.\"\n\nWhen he had related his story from beginning to end, the sage\nexclaimed, \"God willing thou wilt attain thy wishes:\" upon which\nMazin inquired concerning the sea surrounding the islands, and\nhow he could overcome such an impediment to his progress; when\nthe sage answered, \"By God's permission, in the morning we will\nrepair to the mountains, and I will shew thee the wonders of the\nseas.\"\n\nWhen God permitted morning to dawn the hermit arose, took Mazin\nwith him, and they ascended the mountains, till they reached a\nstructure resembling a fortress, which they entered, and\nproceeded into the inmost court, in which was an immense colossal\nstatue of brass, hollowed into pipes, having in the midst of it a\nreservoir lined with marble, the work of magicians. When Mazin\nbeheld this he was astonished, and began to tremble with fear at\nthe vastness of the statue, and what miraculous power it might\ncontain. The hermit now kindled a fire, threw into it some\nperfumes, and muttered some unintelligible words, when suddenly\ndark clouds arose, from which burst out eddies of tempestuous\nwind, lightnings, claps of thunder, groans, and frightful noises,\nand in the midst of the reservoir appeared boiling waves, for it\nwas near the ocean surrounding the islands. The hermit did not\ncease to utter his incantations, until the hurricane and noises\nhad subsided by his authority, for he was more powerful than any\nof the magicians, and had command over the rebellious genii. He\nnow said to Mazin, \"Go out, and look towards the ocean\nsurrounding the islands.\"\n\nMazin repaired to the summit of the mountain, and looked towards\nthe sea, but could not discover the smallest trace of its\nexistence: upon which he was astonished at the miraculous power\nof the hermit. He returned to him, exclaiming, \"I can behold no\nremains of the ocean, and the islands appear joined to the main\nland;\" when the sage said, \"My son, place thy reliance on God and\npursue thy object,\" after which he vanished from sight.\n\nMazin now proceeded into the islands, and did not stop till he\nhad reached a verdant spot watered by clear rivulets, and shaded\nby lofty trees. It was now sunrise, and among the wonders which\nhe beheld was a tree like the weeping willow, on which hung, by\nway of fruit, beautiful damsels, who exclaimed, \"Praised be God\nour creator, and former of the islands of Waak al Waak.\" They\nthen dropped from the tree and expired. At sight of this prodigy\nhis senses were confounded, and he exclaimed, \"By heavens, this\nis miraculously surprising!\" When he had recovered himself, he\nroamed through the groves, and admired the contrivances of the\nAlmighty till sunset, when he sat down to rest.\n\nHe had not sat long when there approached towards him a\nmasculinely looking old woman of disagreeable countenance, at\nsight of whom Mazin was alarmed. The matron guessing that he was\nin fear of her, said to him, \"What is thy name, what are thy\nwants? art thou of this country? Inform me; be not afraid or\napprehensive, for I will request of God that I may be the means\nof forwarding thy wishes.\" On hearing these words the heart of\nMazin was encouraged, and he rerelated to her his adventures from\nfirst to last. When she had heard them, she knew that he must be\nhusband to the sister of her mistress, who was queen of the\nislands of Waak al Waak, and said, \"Thy object is a difficult\none, but I will assist thee all in my power.\"\n\nThe old woman now conducted Mazin through by-paths to the capital\nof the island, and led him unperceived in the darkness of night,\nwhen the inhabitants had ceased to pass through the streets, to\nher own house. She then set before him refreshments, and having\neaten and drunk till he was satisfied, he praised God for his\narrival; when the matron informed him concerning his wife, that\nshe had endured great troubles and afflictions since her\nseparation, and repented sincerely of her flight. Upon hearing\nthis, Mazin wept bitterly, and fainted with anguish. When revived\nby the exertions of the old woman, she comforted him by promises\nof speedy assistance to complete his wishes, and left him to his\nrepose.\n\nNext morning the old woman desiring Mazin to wait patiently for\nher return, repaired to the palace, where she found the queen and\nher sisters in consultation concerning the wife of Mazin, and\nsaying, \"This wretch hath espoused a man, by whom she has\nchildren, but now she is returned, we will put her to death after\ndivers tortures.\" Upon the entrance of the old lady they arose,\nsaluted her with great respect, and seated her, for she had been\ntheir nurse. When she had rested a little, she said, \"Were you\nnot conversing about your unfortunate sister? but can ye reverse\nthe decrees of God?\" \"Dear nurse,\" replied they, \"no one can\navoid the will of heaven, and had she wedded one of our own\nnature there would have been no disgrace, but she has married a\nhuman being of Bussorah, and has children by him, so that our\nspecies will despise us, and tauntingly say, 'Your sister is a\nharlot.' Her death is therefore not to be avoided.\" The nurse\nrejoined, \"If you put her to death your scandal will be greater\nthan hers, for she was wedded lawfully, and her offspring is\nlegitimate; but I wish to see her.\" The eldest sister answered,\n\"She is now confined in a subterraneous dungeon;\" upon which the\nnurse requested permission to visit her, which was granted, and\none of the sisters attended to conduct her to the prison.\n\nThe nurse, on her arrival at the prison, found the wife of Mazin\nin great distress from the cruelty of her sisters. Her children\nwere playing about her, but very pallid, from the closeness of\ntheir confinement. On the entrance of the nurse she stood up,\nmade her obeisance, and began to weep, saying, \"My dear nurse, I\nhave been long in this dungeon, and know not what in the end may\nbe my fate.\" The old woman kissed her cheeks, and said, \"My dear\ndaughter, God will bring thee relief, perchance on this very\nday.\"\n\nWhen the wife of Mazin heard this, she said, \"Good heavens! your\nwords, my dear nurse, recall a gleam of comfort that last night\nstruck across my mind from a voice, which said, 'Be comforted, O\nwife of Mazin, for thy deliverance is near.'\" Upon this the old\nwoman replied, \"Thou shalt indeed be comforted, for thy husband\nis at my abode, and will speedily release thee.\" The unfortunate\nprisoner, overcome with joy, fainted away, but was soon restored\nby the nurse's sprinkling water upon her face, when she opened\nher eyes and said, \"I conjure thee by heaven, my dear nurse,\ninform me if thou speakest truth, or dissemblest.\" \"I not only\nspeak truth,\" answered the nurse, \"but by God's help thou shalt\nmeet thy husband this day.\" After this she left her.\n\nThe nurse, upon her return home, inquired of Mazin if he had\nskill to take his wife away, provided he was admitted into the\ndungeon at night. He replied, \"Yes.\" When night was set in, she\nconducted him to the spot where she was confined, left him near\nthe gate, and went her way. He then put on his cap of\ninvisibility, and remained unperceived all night by any one.\nEarly in the morning the queen, his wife's eldest sister,\nadvanced, opened the gate of the prison, and entered, when he\nfollowed unseen behind her, and seated himself in a corner of the\napartment. The queen went up to her sister, and beat her cruelly\nwith a whip, while her children wept around her, till the blood\nappeared upon her body, when she left her hanging by her hair\nfrom a pillar, went out, and locked the door of the dungeon.\nMazin now arose, unloosed his wife's hair, and pulling off the\ncap, appeared before her, when she exclaimed, \"From whence didst\nthou come?\" They then embraced each other, and he said. \"Ah, why\ndidst thou act thus, leave me in such affliction, and plunge\nthyself into such distress, which, indeed, thy conduct hath\nalmost deserved?\" \"It is true,\" replied she; \"but what is past is\npast, and reproach will not avail, unless thus canst effect our\nescape:\" upon which he exclaimed, \"Does thy inclination really\nlead thee to accompany me to my own country?\" She answered,\n\n\"Yes; do with me what thou choosest.\"\n\nThey remained in endearment with their children until evening,\nwhen the keeper of the dungeon approaching, Mazin put on his cap\nof invisibility. The keeper having set down the provisions for\nthe night, retired into a recess of the dungeon and fell asleep;\nwhen Mazin and his family sat down and refreshed themselves.\nPerceiving the keeper asleep, Mazin tried the door and found it\nunlocked; upon which, he, with his wife and children, left the\nprison, and travelled as quickly as possible all night. When the\nqueen, in the morning, was informed of her sister's escape she\nwas enraged, and made incantations, on which seven thousand genii\nattended, with whom she marched out in pursuit, resolved to cut\nthe fugitives in pieces.\n\nMazin, looking behind him, perceived a cloud of dust, and soon\nappeared the forces of his wife's sister, who cried out on seeing\nhim, with dreadful howls, \"Where will ye go, ye wretches, ye\naccursed? where can ye hide yourselves?\" Upon this Mazin took out\nhis drum, and beat it violently, when, lo! there appeared before\nhim legions of genii, in number more than could be reckoned, and\nthey fought with the armies of the queen, who was taken prisoner,\nwith her principal attendants.\n\nWhen the wife of Mazin beheld her sister in this distress her\ncompassion was moved towards her, and she said to her husband,\n\"Hurt not my sister, nor use her ill, for she is my elder:\" upon\nwhich he treated her respectfully, and commanded tents to be\npitched for her and her court.\n\nPeace being established, the sisters took an affectionate leave,\nand Mazin, with his family, departed for the residence of Abd al\nSulleeb, which they speedily reached with the assistance of the\ngenii, and the directing ball. The old man received him kindly,\nand inquired his adventures, when he related them to him; at\nwhich he was surprised, especially at the account of the cap, the\ndrum, and the ball; of which last Mazin begged his acceptance,\nbeing now near home, and having no farther occasion for its use.\nAbd al Sulleeb was much pleased, and entertained him\nmagnificently for three days, when Mazin wishing to depart, the\nold man presented him with rich gifts, and dismissed him.\n\nMazin was continuing his route, when suddenly a band of a hundred\nbanditti appeared, resolved to plunder and put him and his\ncompanions to death, with which design they kept advancing. Mazin\ncalled out to them, \"Brother Arabs, let the covenant of God be\nbetween you and me, keep at a distance from me.\" When they heard\nthis they increased their insolence, surrounded him, and supposed\nthey should easily seize all that he had; but especially when\nthey beheld his wife, and the beauty she was endowed with, they\nsaid one to another, \"Let us put him to death, and not suffer him\nto live.\" Each man resolved within himself, saying, \"I will seize\nthis damsel, and not take the plunder.\"\n\nWhen Mazin saw that they were bent upon attacking him, to seize\nhis wife and plunder his effects, he took out his drum and beat\nupon it in a slight manner, when, behold! ten genii appeared\nbefore him, requiring his commands. He replied, \"I wish the\ndispersion of yonder horsemen;\" upon which one of the ten\nadvanced among the hundred banditti, and uttered such a\ntremendous yell as made the mountains reverberate the sound.\nImmediately as he sent forth the yell, the banditti, in alarm,\ndispersed themselves among the rocks, when such as fell from\ntheir horses' backs fled on foot; so that they lost their\nreputation, and were ridiculed among the chiefs of the Abbasside\ntribes. Mazin now pursued his journey, and did not halt till he\nhad reached the abode of Abd al Kuddoos, who advanced to meet him\nand saluted him, but was astonished when he beheld his company,\nand the wealth he had obtained. Mazin related what had befallen\nhim, of dangers, and hunger, and thirst; his safe arrival in the\nislands of Waak al Waak; the deliverance of his wife from prison,\nand the defeat of the army sent to oppose his return. He\nmentioned also the reconciliation between the sisters of his\nwife, and whatever had happened to him from first to last.\n\nAbd al Kuddoos was greatly astonished at these adventures, and\nsaid to Mazin of Bussorah, \"Truly, my son, these events are most\nsurprising, and can have never occurred to any but thyself.\"\nMazin remained three days to repose himself, and was treated with\nhospitality and respect until the fourth, when he resolved to\ncontinue his journey, and took leave. He proceeded towards his\nown country, and did not halt on the way till he arrived with the\nseven sisters, the owners of the palace, who had so much\nbefriended him.\n\nWhen Mazin of Bussorah arrived near the palace of the seven\nsisters, they came out to meet him, saluted him and his wife, and\nconducted them within; but they were astonished at his return,\nand at first could scarcely believe his success, wondering that\nhe had not perished on the road, or been torn in pieces by the\nwild beasts of the desert; for they had regarded it as impossible\nthat he should ever reach the islands of Waak al Waak.\n\nWhen they were seated, they requested him to relate to them all\nthat had befallen him, which he did from first to last, and they\nwere more than ever astonished at his uncommon adventures. After\nthis they introduced a collation, and spread the cloth, when they\nate till they were satisfied, and then wrote a letter and\ndispatched it to the mother of Mazin, congratulating her on the\nhealth of her son, and his safe return with his wife and\nchildren.\n\nMazin remained with the ladies a month, enjoying himself in\nfeasting and amusements, after which he begged permission to\ndepart to his own country, for his heart was anxious for his\nmother. They dismissed him, and he travelled unceasingly till he\narrived at Bussorah. He entered the city at sunset, and proceeded\nto his own house, when his mother came out, saluted him, and\nembraced him. She had erected her tomb in the court of her house,\nand had wept night and day till she became blind, but when the\nletter arrived from the sisters, from the rapture of joy her\nsight returned unto her again. She beheld the children of her\nson, embraced them, and that night was to her as an eed or\nfestival.\n\nWhen God had caused the morning to dawn, the chief personages of\nBussorah visited Mazin to congratulate him on his return, and the\nprincipal ladies came to his mother, and rejoiced with her on the\nsafety of her son. At length intelligence of it reached the\ncaliph Haroon al Rusheed, who sent for Mazin to his presence.\nHaving entered the audience chamber, he made the usual obeisance,\nwhen the caliph returned his salute, and commanded him to sit.\nWhen he was seated, the caliph demanded that he should relate the\nwhole of what had befallen him, to which he answered, \"To hear is\nto obey.\"\n\nMazin then recited his adventures from the time the fire-worshipper\nwho had stolen him from his mother by his stratagems, the mode of his\ncoming to the palace of the seven ladies, the manner in which he\nobtained his wife, her flight from the palace of the empress Zobeide,\nhis journey to the islands of Waak al Waak, also the dangers and\ndifficulties he had encountered from first to last. The caliph was\nastonished, and said, \"The substance of these adventures must not be\nlost or concealed, but shall be recorded in writing.\" He then\ncommanded an amanuensis to attend, and seated Mazin of Bussorah by\nhim, until he had taken down his adventures from beginning to end.\n\n\n\n\n           STORY OF THE SULTAN, THE DERVISH, AND THE\n                         BARBER'S SON.\n\n\n\nIn the capital of a sultan named Rammaud lived a barber, who had\na son growing up to manhood, possessing great accomplishments of\nmind and person, and whose wit and humour drew numerous customers\nto his shop. One day a venerable dervish entering it, sat down,\nand calling for a looking glass, adjusted his beard and whiskers,\nat the same time asking many questions of the young man; after\nwhich he laid down a sherif, rose up, and departed. The next day\nhe came again, and for several days following, always finishing\nhis visit by leaving a piece of gold upon the looking-glass, to\nthe great satisfaction of the barber, who from his other\ncustomers never usually received more than sonic coppers of\nlittle value; but though he liked the gold, his suspicions were\nraised against the generous donor, supposing him to be a\nnecromancer, who had some evil design against his son, whom,\ntherefore, he cautioned to be upon his guard. The visits of the\ndervish were continued as usual for some time; when one day he\nfound the barber's son alone in the shop, and was informed that\nhis father had gone to divert himself with viewing some\nexperiments which the sultan was making of the mixture of various\nmetals, being an adept in chemistry, and eager in search of the\nphilosopher's stone. The dervish now invited the young man to\naccompany him to the spot where the experiments were making, and\non their arrival they saw a vast furnace, into which the sultan\nand his attendants cast pieces of metal of various sorts. The\ndervish having taken a lump of ore from his wallet threw it into\nthe furnace; then addressing the young barber, said, \"I must for\nthe present bid you farewell, as I have a journey to take; but if\nthe sultan should inquire after me, let him know I am to be found\nin a certain city, and will attend his summons.\" Having said\nthis, the dervish presented the barber's son with a purse of\ngold, took his leave, and the youth returned home. Great was the\nsurprise of the sultan, when the metals in the furnace were all\nmelted, to find them converted into a mass of solid gold, which\nproved, on assay, to be of the purest quality. Every one was\nquestioned as to what he had cast into the furnace, when there\nappeared no reason to suppose the transmutation could have been\neffected by such an accidental mixture of metals. At length it\nwas remarked, that a dervish, accompanying the barber's son, had\ncast in a lump of ore, and immediately disappeared. Upon this the\nsultan summoned the youth to his presence, and inquiring after\nhis companion, was informed of the place of his residence, and of\nwhat, on his departure, he had said to him. The sultan was\noverjoyed at the welcome intelligence, and dispatched the young\nman, with an honourable attendance, to conduct the venerable\ndervish to his presence, where being arrived, he was received\nwith the most distinguishing attention, and the barber's son was\npromoted to high office. After some days, the sultan requested\nthe dervish to instruct him in the transmutation of metals, which\nhe readily did, as well as in many other occult mysteries; which\nso gratified his royal patron, that he trusted the administration\nof government to his care. This disgusted the ministers and\ncourtiers, who could not bear to be controlled by a stranger, and\ntherefore resolved to effect his ruin. By degrees they persuaded\ntheir credulous master that the dervish was a magician, who would\nin time possess himself of his throne, and the sultan, alarmed,\nresolved to put him to death. With this intention, calling him to\nthe presence, he accused him of sorcery, and commanded an\nexecutioner to strike off his head. \"Forbear awhile,\" exclaimed\nthe dervish, \"and let me live till I have shown you the most\nwonderful specimen of my art.\" To this the sultan consented, when\nthe dervish, with chalk, drew a circle of considerable extent\nround the sultan and his attendants, then stepping into the\nmiddle of it, he drew a small circle round himself, and said,\n\"Now seize me if you can;\" and immediately disappeared from\nsight. At the same instant, the sultan and his courtiers found\nthemselves assaulted by invisible agents, who, tearing off their\nrobes, whipped them with scourges till the blood flowed in\nstreams from their lacerated backs. At length the punishment\nceased, but the mortification of the sultan did not end here, for\nall the gold which the dervish had transmuted returned to its\noriginal metals. Thus, by his unjust credulity, was a weak prince\npunished for his ungrateful folly. The barber and his son also\nwere not to be found, so that the sultan could gain no\nintelligence of the dervish, and he and his courtiers became the\nlaughingstock of the populace for years after their merited\nchastisement.\n\n\n\n\n               ADVENTURES OF ALEEFA, DAUGHTER OF\n           MHEREJAUN, SULTAN OF HIND, AND EUSUFF, SON\n                   OF SOHUL, SULTAN OF SIND.\n\n\n\nMherejaun, sultan of Hind, was many years without any progeny,\nand immersed in melancholy at the thought of his kingdom's\npassing to another family. One evening, while indulging his\ngloomy thoughts, he dropped into a doze, from which he was roused\nby a voice exclaiming, \"Sultan, thy wife this night shall\nconceive. If she bears a son, he will increase the glory of thy\nhouse; but if a daughter, she will occasion thee disgrace and\nmisfortune.\" In due time the favourite sultana was delivered of a\ndaughter, to the great mortification of the parents, who would\nhave destroyed her had not her infant smiles diverted their\nanger. She was brought up in the strictest privacy, and at the\nend of twelve years the sultan had her conveyed to a strong\ncitadel erected in the middle of a deep lake, hoping in such a\nconfinement to prevent her from fulfilling the prediction which\nhad been made concerning her. Nothing could excel the\nmagnificence of her abode, where she was left only with female\nattendants of the highest accomplishments, but no male was\nallowed to approach even the borders of the lake, except when\nsupplies were conveyed for the use of its fair inhabitants, who\nwere then restricted to their apartments. The gate of the citadel\nwas entrusted to the care of an old lady, the princess's nurse.\nFor three years the fair Aleefa lived happy in her splendid\nprison, but the decree of fate was not to be overcome, and an\nevent predestined by heaven overturned the cautious project of\nsultan Mherejaun.\n\nEusuff, a dissipated young prince, son to the sultan of Sind,\nhaving offended his father, fled from his court, and with a few\nattendants reached the borders of the lake, in his way to seek an\nasylum in the territories of Mherejaun. Curious to know who\ninhabited the citadel in the midst of it, he swam over the lake,\nand landed at the gate, which he found shut, but no one answered\nhis loudest call for admission. Upon this he wrote a note,\nrequesting compassion to a helpless stranger, and having fixed it\nto an arrow, shot it over the battlements. It luckily for him\nfell at the feet of the princess, then walking in one of the\ncourts of her palace. She prevailed upon her nurse to open the\ngate, and at sight of Eusuff fell in love with him, as he did\nwith her. He was admitted, and the tenderest interviews took\nplace between them. Joy and pleasure prevailed in the citadel,\nwhile the prince's attendants remained, expecting his return, on\nthe banks of the lake.\n\nAfter some time, sultan Sohul wishing to be reconciled to his\nson, and having learnt the route he had taken, dispatched his\nnephew named Yiah to assure him of forgiveness, and invite him to\nreturn to Sind. Yiah arriving at the lake, was informed by\nEusuff's attendants that the prince had entered the citadel,\nsince which they had not seen or heard anything of him. Yiah,\nupon this, penned a note expressive of the sultan's forgiveness,\nand his wish to see the prince, which he fixed to an arrow and\nshot it into the palace, in the garden of which it fell, as\nEusuff and Aleefa were walking for their amusement. The prince,\non reading the note, overcome with joy at the intelligence of his\nfather's forgiveness of his errors, resolved to return home and\npay his duty to his parents. He communicated his design to the\nprincess, who was plunged into the deepest sorrow at the thought\nof his departure, but he comforted her by assurances of his\nspeedy return, declaring that nothing but filial duty could have\ntorn him from her, even for a moment. She now implored him to to\ntake her with him, but Eusuff prudently represented that such a\nstep could only disgrace her fame and enrage her father, who, on\ndiscovery of her flight, would invade the kingdom of Sind with\nhis powerful armies, and a scene of unnecessary bloodshed would\nensue. On the contrary, it they waited patiently, sultan\nMherejaun might be prevailed upon to consent to their union; but,\nin the mean time, he would visit her often, while their meetings\nmight, through the fidelity of their mutual attendants, be kept\nsecret. Aleefa, though unwilling, was obliged to acknowledge the\njustice of his reasoning, and consented to his departure; but on\nhis taking leave, with tears and embraces entreated him not to be\nlong absent, which he promised, and with truth, for his love was\nsincere, and it was with difficulty he submitted to the call of\nduty to a forgiving parent.\n\nEusuff having swam the lake with his bow and quiver upon his\nhead, as before, rejoined his companions, who rejoiced to see\nhim. He was received by his cousin Yiah with transports of\naffection, and informed of what had happened since his departure\nfrom court; after which the prince related his love adventure\nwith the fair Aleefa, at the same time requesting his secrecy,\nand that he would charge the same on his attendants, as to his\nhaving been in the citadel, which he should earnestly beg also of\nhis companions to observe. After a night's repose the two princes\nmarched towards Sind, and when within a day's distance from the\ncapital, dispatched a courier to give notice of their approach.\nSultan Sohul, overcome with joy at the recovery of his son,\nhaving commanded the city to be ornamented and splendid\nentertainments to be made for his triumphal entry, with his whole\ncourt in their most magnificent array advanced to meet him. The\nprince, on seeing his father's train, dismounted, fell on his\nface, then running up, eagerly embraced the stirrup of the old\nsultan, who threw himself upon his neck in a transport of joy,\nand wept over him with tears of affectionate rapture. A horse\nsumptuously caparisoned was now brought for the prince's\nmounting, and the father and son rode side by side into the city,\namid the acclamations of all ranks of people; while, as they\nproceeded, basins full of silver and gold, coined for the\noccasion, were showered amongst the assembled crowds in the\nstreets. It is impossible to describe the tender interview\nbetween the prince and the queen his mother, whose heart had been\nnearly broken on the flight of her son, or the glad transports of\nEusuff's own ladies, who were in number three wives and forty\nconcubines. Suffice it to say, that all was joy and pleasure in\nthe palace, except in the breast of Eusuff; who mingled with the\nsatisfaction of return to his family an ardent desire to meet\nagain the beautiful Aleefa, so that the caresses of his women\ngave him no pleasure; and when he retired to his apartment, he\ndid not, as was usual, call any of them to his presence, but\npassed the night alone, thinking of his beloved. Morning invited\nhim to new scenes of festivity, prepared by his happy parents,\nwho little suspected how soon they were again to lose their son.\n\nEusuff having sacrificed a few days (to him long as the eve of\ndissolution) to his sense of duty, could no longer restrain his\nimpatience, but with a faithful slave named Hullaul, mounted on a\nfavourite courser behind him, left the palace undiscovered in the\ndarkness of night, and speeded with the swiftness of the gale\ntowards the citadel of Aleefa. Being arrived on the banks of the\nlake, he secured his saddle and bridle among some bushes, and was\ncarried with his attendant safely through the water by his noble\nsteed. Unbounded was the joy of the princess at again meeting her\nfaithful lover, nor was his rapture less than hers. Having\ncommitted Hullaul to the care of the ladies of Aleefa, they\nretired to their apartment. Thirty days rolled on almost\nunperceived by Eusuff, who forgot his parents, his family, and\ncountry, in the delights of love.\n\nOn the thirtieth evening, as Eusuff and Aleefa were viewing the\nbeautiful prospect from the terrace of the palace, they perceived\na boat sailing towards it, which, as it drew nearer, the princess\nknew to belong to her father the sultan Mherejaun; upon which she\nrequested her lover to keep himself concealed from view, while\nshe received the persons in the vessel. Eusuff accordingly\nwithdrew into a chamber, the lattice of which looked upon the\nlake; but how can we express his indignant surprise, and furious\njealousy, when he beheld landing from the boat two handsome young\nmen, into the arms of one of whom Aleefa threw herself with eager\ntransport, and after mutual embraces they withdrew together into\nthe palace. Without considering that his supposed rival might be\na near relation to the princess, as he in fact was, being her\nfirst cousin, who had been brought up with her till her\nconfinement to the lake; Eusuff suffered himself to be overcome\nby unworthy suspicion, and resolved to quit for ever a faithless\nmistress. Having written an angry letter upraiding her with\nfalsehood, and bidding her farewell, he with his attendant\nHullaul mounted his courser; then delivering his note to one of\nthe females, to be given to the princess, he swam over the lake\nand speeded rapidly to his own country, where he was once more\njoyfully received by his parents and family; and in order to\nforget the charms of Aleefa, he indulged himself in mirth and\npleasure with his lately forsaken ladies, who, delighted with the\nlong-wished-for return of his affection, strove with each ether\nwho should please him best.\n\nThe unsuspecting Aleefa was engaged with her cousin Sohaul and\nAli Bin Ibrahim, a faithful eunuch who was his attendant, asking\na thousand questions and listening to the news of her father's\ncourt, when Eusuff's letter was put into her hands. Rising up,\nshe withdrew into a closet, opened it, and was much vexed at its\nungrateful contents; but knowing herself innocent, and trusting\nthat her lover would return when convinced of his mistake, she\ncomposed her mind as firmly as she, could till the departure of\nher cousin, who after some days took leave and returned to the\ncapital of Mherejaun, leaving behind him the eunuch, to the great\nsatisfaction of the princess, who hoped to make him the mediator\nbetween her and her beloved. Nor was she mistaken. When unfolding\nto him the whole of her adventures with Eusuff, he agreed to be\nthe bearer of a letter, and explain to him the cause of his\nneedless suspicion. Having swam the lake with the fair Aleefa's\npacket wrapped in his clothes upon his head, the faithful Ah in\ntwenty days reached the city of Sind, and demanding an audience\nin private, which was readily granted, delivered his commission\nto the prince. Eusuff, whose anger was now calmed, and who had\nalready begun to feel uneasy at absence from the still reigning\nfavourite of his heart, on perusing her letter was overcome with\njoy. He listened eagerly to the account of his fancied rival by\nthe eloquent Ali Bin Ibrohim, to whom he expressed his conviction\nof her constancy, his own sorrow for his unreasonable desertion\nof her, and his intention of departing to visit her the next\nnight, till when he desired the eunuch to repose himself after\nhis fatigue. Ali Bin Ibrahim was then lodged, by the prince's\norders, in one of the most splendid apartments of the palace, and\nrespectfully waited upon by the domestics of his court. The night\nfollowing, Eusuff having ordered his favourite Hullaul to make\npreparations, departed from Sind as before, with the eunuch\nmounted on a second courser. They in a few days reached the\nborders of the lake, swam over, and to the great joy of the once\nmore happy Aleefa arrived at the citadel. The recollection of the\npains of absence added a zest to the transports of reunion, and\nthe lovers were, if possible, more delighted with each other than\nbefore their separation. The faithful Ali Bin Ibrahim was now\ndismissed with invaluable presents of precious stones, and\nreturned to the court of Mherejaun, the time for his stay at the\ncitadel of the lake being expired. On his arrival, the sultan,\nanxious for intelligence of his daughter's health, took him into\nhis closet, and while he was questioning him, by some accident\nthe eunuch's turban unfortunately falling off, the precious\nstones, which, with a summary of the adventures of Eusuff and\nAleefa, and his own embassy to Sind, were wrapped in the folds,\ntumbled upon the floor. The sultan knew the jewels, and examining\nthe turban, to make farther discoveries, found the paper, which\nhe eagerly read; and furious was his wrath, when from the\ncontents it appeared that all his caution to guard against the\ndecrees of heaven had been vain, that the princess had been\nseduced, and his house dishonoured. He sternly inquired of the\ntrembling Ali if Eusuff was yet with his daughter, and was\nanswered in the affirmative, when he immediately gave orders for\nvessels to be prepared for his departure, hoping to take him\nprisoner, and at the same time commanded his army to march along\nthe banks of the lake and encamp opposite the citadel. The\nunfortunate eunuch was thrown into a dungeon and loaded with\nheavy chains, after he had been bastinadoed almost to death; but\nstill faithful to the lovers, he prevailed upon his gaoler by a\nlarge bribe during the night to permit him to dispatch a note by\na trusty messenger to the princess, apprising her of the\nmisfortune which had happened, in hopes that she would have time\nto escape with Eusuff towards his own country before her father's\narrival. Fortunately for the lovers, this information reached\nthem the next morning, when they consulted what measures to\npursue, and it was agreed, that instead of both quitting the\ncitadel, only Eusuff and Hullaul should return to Sind, as the\nprincess was unequal to such a rapid journey, but that in order\nto ensure her safety, the slaves should, on the sultan's arrival,\nassure him that she had gone off with her lover, when he would\neither return home or pursue the prince with his army; who,\nhowever, mounted as he was on so swift a courser, could not be\novertaken. It was also settled that Eusuff, on his arrival in his\nown country, should send an embassy to Mherejaun, declaring his\nmarriage with Aleefa, and requesting pardon, and leave to pay his\nduty as his son-in-law. This stratagem had in part its effect,\nbut no precaution could ward off the fulfilment of the prediction\nat the princess's birth, which was that she should occasion the\ndisgrace and death of her father.\n\nMherejaun armed at the citadel a few hours after Eusuff's escape,\nand was informed by her attendants that she had also accompanied\nhim in his flight; upon which the enraged sultan, hurried on by\nfate, without stopping to search the palace in which his daughter\nwas concealed, hastened to join his troops on the banks of the\nlake, and with a vast army pursued the Sindian prince, who,\nhowever, reached his capital in safety. On his arrival, having\ninformed his father of his adventures, the old sultan, eager to\ngratify his son, approved of his additional marriage with the\nfair Aleefa, and dispatched an embassy to Mherejaun, who by this\ntime was in the territory of Sind, laying it waste with fire and\nsword, no troops scarcely being opposed to his sudden invasion.\nHe received the ambassador with mortifying haughtiness, bidding\nhim return to his master, and inform him that he never would\nforgive the seduction of his daughter, in revenge for which he\nhad taken a solemn oath to overturn the kingdom of Sind, raze the\ncapital, and feast his eyes with the blood of the old sultan and\nhis son. On receipt of this ungracious reply to his proposals,\nthe sultan and Eusuff had no alternative but to oppose so\ninveterate a foe. They collected their troops, by whom they were\nmuch beloved, and marched to meet the enemy, whom, after an\nobstinate battle, they defeated, and Mherejaun was slain in the\naction. It is impossible to resist the decrees of heaven. From\nGod we came, and to God we must return.\n\nEusuff, after the action, behaved with the greatest humility to\nthe conquered, and had the body of the unfortunate Mherejaun\nembalmed and laid in a splendid litter, in which it was conducted\nby a numerous escort, in respectful solemnity, to the capital of\nHind, and deposited with funeral pomp, becoming the rank of the\ndeceased, in a magnificent mausoleum, which had been erected by\nhimself, as is customary among the sovereigns of Asia. The\nprince, at the same time, dispatched letters of condolence to the\nmother of Aleefa, lamenting the fate of Mherejaun, whom he had\nbeen, much against his will, necessitated to oppose in battle,\nand expressing his ardent love for her daughter, a marriage with\nwhom was his highest hope, as it was his first wish to console\nthe mother of his beloved in her misfortunes.\n\nThe sultana, who had received intelligence of the decisive\nvictory and the death of her husband, and who expected, instead\nof such conduct, to see the victor besieging her capital, felt\nsome alleviation of her sorrow in the prospect of saving her\npeople from destruction, by consenting to an union between Eusuff\nand Aleefa. Her answer accordingly was favourable, upon which the\nprince of Sind repaired to the lake, and conducting his willing\nbride to the capital of Hind, at the expiration of the stated\ntime of mourning for Mherejaun, their nuptials were celebrated\nwith all possible magnificence, amid the united acclamations of\nthe subjects, who readily acknowledged his authority, and had no\ncause to repent of their submission to his yoke. His next care\nwas to inform the caliph Mamoon, who was then commander of the\nfaithful at Bagdad, of the events which had happened,\naccompanying his petition with a great sum of money, and\nofferings of all the rarities the countries of Hind and Sind\nafforded; among which were ten beautiful slaves, highly\naccomplished in singing, dancing, and a talent for poetry. They\nrecited extempore verses before the caliph, but the subject of\neach was so expressive of their wish to return to their beloved\nsovereign, and delivered in so affecting a manner, that Mamoon,\nthough delighted with their wit and beauty, sacrificed his own\npleasure to their feelings, and sent them back to Eusuff by the\nofficer who carried the edict, confirming him in his dominions,\nwhere the prince of Sind and the fair Aleefa continued long, amid\na numerous progeny, to live the protectors of their happy\nsubjects.\n\n\n\n\n            ADVENTURES OF THE THREE PRINCES, SONS OF\n                      THE SULTAN OF CHINA.\n\n\n\nA sultaness of China being seized with an alarming illness was\ngiven over by the physicians, who declared her case incurable by\nany other means than the water of life, which they feared it was\nnext to impossible to obtain before nature would be exhausted;\nthe country in which, if anywhere, it was to be found, being so\nvery distant. Such, however, was the affection of the sultaness's\nthree sons, that in hopes of saving their mother they resolved to\ngo in search of the precious medicine, and departed immediately\nin the route pointed out by the physicians. After travelling\nwithout success to their inquiries through divers countries, they\nagreed to separate, in hopes that one of them at least might be\nfortunate enough to procure the wished-for miraculous liquid, and\nreturn home in time to save their mother. Having taken an\naffectionate farewell, each pursued his journey alone. The\neldest prince, after a fatiguing walk (for the brothers had\nthought it prudent to lay aside their dignity, and as safest to\ndisguise themselves in mean habits) over a wild country, arrived\nat last within sight of a large city, inhabited by blasphemous\nJews, near which, in a superb synagogue, he laid himself down on\na carpet to repose, being quite exhausted with toil and hunger.\nHe had not rested long, when a Jew rabbi entering the building,\nthe prince begged for the love of God a little refreshment; but\nthe wicked infidel, who hated true believers, instead of\nrelieving, cruelly put him to death with his sabre, and wrapping\nthe corpse in a mat, threw it into a corner of the synagogue. By\nill fortune, on the day following the second prince arrived, and\nwas treated in the same manner by the barbarous Jew, and on the\nnext came also the youngest brother to the same place, where he\nwas met by the base assassin, who would have killed him also, had\nnot the extraordinary beauty of the young prince struck his\ncovetous mind with the idea of making him a slave, and selling\nhim for a large sum of money. Speaking therefore to him in a kind\nmanner he brought him refreshments, and inquired if he was\nwilling to be his servant, and employ himself in cleaning the\nsynagogue and lighting the lamps; to which the prince, being in\nan exhausted condition, seemingly assented, seeing no other means\nof present support, but secretly resolved to escape when\nrecovered from his fatigue. The Jew now took him to his house in\nthe city, and showed him, apparently, the same tenderness as he\nused towards his own children. The next day the prince repaired\nto his allotted task of cleaning the synagogue, where, to his\ngrief and horror, he presently discovered the bodies of his\nunfortunate brothers. While he lamented their unhappy fate with\nshowers of tears, the recollection of his own perilous situation,\nin the power of their murderer, filled his mind with terror; but\nafter the agonies of thought were over, the natural courage of a\nprincely heart rose in his bosom, and he meditated how to revenge\nthe death of his brothers on the savage infidel. An opportunity\nhappened that same night. The prince having composed his mind,\nfinished his work, and when the Jew arrived to examine it,\ndissembled so well, that no appearance of his inward melancholy\nwas displayed. The Jew applauded his diligence, and taking him\nhome, made him sit down to supper with himself and family,\nconsisting of a wife and two young lads. It being the middle of\nsummer, and the weather sultry, they retired to sleep on the open\nterrace of the house, which was very lofty. In the dead of night,\nwhen the Jew and his family were fast locked in the arms of\nslumber, the prince, who had purposely kept himself awake, seized\nthe sabre of the treacherous infidel, and with a dexterous blow\nstruck off his head; then snatching up the two children, hurled\nthem headlong from the terrace, so that their brains were dashed\nout on the stone pavement of the court below. He then uplifted\nthe sabre to destroy the Jew's wife, but the thought that she\nmight be of use to him withheld his hand. He awoke her gently,\ncommanded her to make no noise, and follow him down stairs,\nwhere, by degrees, he informed her of his adventures, the\ndiscovery he had made of the murder of his brothers, and his\nrevenge on her treacherous husband and ill-fated children, whom,\nhowever, he would not have destroyed had he not been apprehensive\nof their cries alarming the neighbourhood. The Moosulmaun woman,\nfor such she secretly was, did not regard the death of the wicked\nJew, who had married her against her will, and often used her\nwith great harshness, and her sorrows for the children were\nsoftened by the salvation of her own life. She also felt\nsentiments of tenderness towards the prince, whose injuries in\nthe murder of his unfortunate brothers had compelled him to\nrevenge, and felt herself obliged to his mercy in letting her\nlive. She now informed him that in the Jew's laboratory were many\nvaluable medicines, and among them the very water of life he was\nin search of; which intelligence was most gratifying to the\nprince, who offered to take the woman under his protection, and\nshe willingly consented to accompany him to a country inhabited\nby true believers. Having packed up the medicines, with some\nvaluable jewels, and put them, with various refreshments and\nnecessaries, on two camels, they mounted and left the city\nundiscovered, nor did any accident occur on their journey; but on\nreaching the capital of China, the prince found that his father\nwas dead, while his mother, contrary to expectation, lingered in\npainful existence. The ministers, who had with difficulty, in\nhopes of the three brothers' arrival, kept the next relations of\nthe throne from disputing their right to ascend it, were rejoiced\nat his return; and on being informed of the untimely end of the\ntwo elder princes, immediately proclaimed him sultan. His first\ncare was to administer comfort and relief to his afflicted\nmother, on whom the water of life had an instantaneous effect;\nhis next, to regulate the affairs of his government, which he did\nwith such ability, justice, and moderation, that he became\nendeared to his subjects, and an example to other sovereigns.\n\nAs the sultan, some time after his accession, was one day amusing\nhimself in the chase, he saw a venerable Arab, accompanied by his\ndaughter, travelling on horseback. By accident the young female's\nveil being blown aside, displayed such beauty to the eyes of the\nsultan, as instantly fascinated his heart, and made him wish to\nhave her for his sultana. He immediately made offers to her\nfather of his alliance; but great was his mortification and\nsurprise when the Arab rejected them, saying, \"That he had sworn\nnot to give his daughter to any one who was not master of some\nuseful trade, by which a livelihood might be earned.\" \"Father,\"\nreplied the sultan, \"what occasion is there that I should learn a\nmean occupation, when I have the wealth of a kingdom at my\ncommand?\" \"Because,\" rejoined the Arab, \"such are the\nvicissitudes of the world, that you may lose your kingdom and\nstarve, if not able to work in some way for your living.\" The\nsultan, unlike some princes, who would have seized the lady and\npunished the Arab for his freedom, felt the force of his remark,\napplauded his wisdom, and requested that he would not betroth her\nto another, as he was resolved to make himself worthy of becoming\nhis son-in-law by learning some handicraft, till when he hoped\nthey would accept of an abode near the palace. To this the old\nman readily consented; and in a short time the sultan, eager to\npossess his bride, became such an adept in the handicraft of\nmaking ornamental mats for sofas and cushions of cane and reeds,\nthat the Arab agreed to the nuptials, which were celebrated with\nall possible splendour and rejoicing, while the subjects admired\nmore than ever the justice and moderation of their sovereign; so\ntrue is it, that, unless in depraved states, a good prince makes\na good people.\n\nSome years rolled on in uninterrupted felicity to the sultan and\nhis beloved partner. It was the custom of the former frequently\nto visit in the disguise of a dervish the various quarters of the\ncity, by which means he learnt the opinions of the people, and\ninspected the conduct of the police. One day in an excursion of\nthis sort he passed by a cook's shop, and being hungry, stepped\nin to take some refreshment. He was, with seeming respect,\nconducted to a back room spread with flowered carpeting, over\nwhich was a covering of muslin transparently fine. Pulling off\nhis slippers, he entered the room and sat down upon a neat\nmusnud, but to his surprise and terror it instantly sunk under\nhim, and he found himself at the bottom of a dark vault, where by\na glimmering light he could discern several naked bodies of\nunfortunate persons who had been murdered, and presently\nappeared, descending from a narrow staircase, a black slave of\nsavage countenance, who, brandishing a huge cimeter, cried out,\n\"Wretch, prepare thyself to die!\" The sultan was alarmed, but his\npresence of mind did not forsake him. \"What good,\" said he, \"will\nmy death do you or your employers? I have nothing about me but\nthe humble habit I wear; but if you spare my life, I possess an\nart that will produce your employers considerable wealth.\" Upon\nthis, the slave going to the master of the house informed him of\nwhat the supposed dervish had said, when the treacherous cook\ncame to inquire after the promised riches. \"Give me only some\nreeds and canes, varnished of different colours,\" said the\nsultan, \"and I will make a mat, which if you carry to the palace\nand present to the vizier, he will purchase it for a thousand\npieces of gold.\" The desired articles were furnished, and the\nsultan setting to work, in a few days finished a mat, in which he\ningeniously contrived to plait in flowery characters, known only\nto himself and his vizier, the account of his situation. When\nfinished, he gave it to his treacherous host, who admired the\nbeauty of the workmanship, and not doubting of the reward,\ncarried it to the palace, where he demanded admission, saying he\nhad a curiosity to offer for sale. The vizier, who was then\ngiving audience to petitioners, commanded him to be brought in;\nbut what was his astonishment when the mat was unfolded, to see\npourtrayed upon it the imminent danger of the sultan, whom he\nsupposed to be in his haram, and whose absence the sultana had,\nin order to prevent confusion, commanded to be kept secret,\nhoping for his speedy return. The vizier instantly summoning his\nguards seized the villanous cook, and proceeding to his house,\nreleased the sultan from his confinement. The house was razed to\nthe ground, and the abominable owner, with his guilty family, put\nto death. The sultan exultingly felt the use of having learnt a\nuseful art, which had been the means of saving his life.\n\n\n\n\n               STORY OF THE GOOD VIZIER UNJUSTLY\n                          IMPRISONED.\n\n\n\nA certain vizier, though perfectly loyal and of the strictest\nintegrity, having been falsely accused by his enemies, was,\nwithout due examination of the charges brought against him,\nthrown into prison, where, by orders from the sultan, he was\nconfined to a gloomy dungeon, and allowed only bread and water\nfor his daily food. In this wretched abode he lay for seven\nyears, at the expiration of which, the sultan his master, who was\nin the habit of walking about the city in disguise to amuse\nhimself, chanced to pass by the house of his injured minister,\ndressed as a dervish. To his surprise he saw it open, and a crowd\nof domestics busy in cleaning the apartments, and preparing for\nthe reception of the owner, who, they said, had commanded them by\na messenger from the prison to put things in order, as he should\nthat day be restored to the sultan's favour, and return home. The\nsultan, who, so far from intending to release the unfortunate\nvizier, had almost erased the remembrance of him from his mind,\nwas astonished at the report of the domestics, but thought his\nlong confinement might possibly have disturbed the brain of his\nprisoner, who in his madness might have fancied his deliverance\nto be at hand. He resolved however to go and visit the prison\ndisguised as he was, and see the vizier. Having purchased a\nquantity of bread and cakes, he proceeded to the gaol, and\nrequested, under pretence of fulfilling a vow he had made to feed\nthe prisoners, to be admitted, and allowed to distribute his\ncharity among them. The gaoler granted his request, and permitted\nhim to visit the different cells. At length he came to that of\nthe vizier, who was employed earnestly at his devotions, which on\nthe entrance of the supposed dervish he suspended, and inquired\nhis business. \"I come,\" said he, \"for though unknown to you I\nhave always prayed for your welfare, to congratulate you on your\napproaching deliverance, which I understand you have announced to\nyour domestics, but fear without foundation, not having heard of\nany orders for the purpose from the sultan.\" \"That may be true,\ncharitable dervish,\" said the vizier, \"but depend upon it before\nnight I shall be released and restored to office.\" \"I wish it may\nbe so,\" replied the sultan; \"but upon what ground do you build an\nexpectation, the gratification of which appears to me so\nimprobable?\" \"Be seated, good dervish, and I will tell you,\"\nrejoined the vizier, and began as follows: \"Know then, my friend,\nexperience has convinced me that the height of prosperity is\nalways quickly succeeded by adverse fortune, and the depth of\naffliction by sudden relief. When I was in office, beloved by the\npeople for my lenient administration, and distinguished by the\nsultan, whose honour and advantage were the constant objects of\nmy care, and for whose welfare I have never ceased to pray even\nin this gloomy dungeon, I was one evening taking the air upon the\nriver in a splendid barge with some favourite companions. As we\nwere drinking coffee, the cup I held in my hand, which was made\nof a single emerald of immense value, and which I highly prized,\nslipped from it and fell into the water; upon which I ordered the\nbarge to be stopped, and sent for a diver, to whom I promised an\nample reward should he recover the cup. He undressed, and desired\nme to point out the place at which it fell; when I, having in my\nhand a rich diamond ring, heedlessly, in a fit of absence, threw\nit into that part of the river. While I was exclaiming against my\nown stupidity, the diver made a plunge towards where I had cast\nthe ring, and in less than two minutes reappeared with the\ncoffee-cup in his hand, when to my great surprise within it I\nfound also my ring. I rewarded him liberally, and was exulting in\nthe recovery of my jewels, when it suddenly struck my mind, that\nsuch unusual good fortune must speedily be followed by some\ndisaster. This reflection made me melancholy, and I returned home\nwith a foreboding sadness, nor without cause, for that very night\nmy enemies accused me falsely of treason to the sultan, who\nbelieved the charge, and next morning I was hurried to this\ngloomy cell, where I have now remained seven years with only\nbread and water for my support. God, however, has given me\nresignation to his decrees, and this day an accident occurred\nwhich makes me confident of release before night, and restoration\nto the sultan's favour, which, as I have always done, I will\nendeavour to deserve. You must know, venerable dervish, that this\nmorning I felt an unconquerable longing to taste a bit of flesh,\nand earnestly entreated my keeper, giving him at the same time a\npiece of gold, to indulge my wish. The man, softened by the\npresent, brought me a stew, on which I prepared to make a\ndelicious meal; but while, according to custom before eating, I\nwas performing my ablutions, guess my mortification, when a huge\nrat running from his hole leaped into the dish which was placed\nupon the floor. I was near fainting with agony at the sight, and\ncould not refrain from tears; but at length recovering from the\npoignancy of disappointment, the rays of comfort darted upon my\nmind, and I reflected that as disgrace and imprisonment had\ninstantaneously followed the fortunate recovery of my cup and\nring, so this mortification, a greater than which could not have\nhappened, would be immediately succeeded by returning prosperity.\nIn this conviction I prevailed on the gaoler to order my\ndomestics to make ready my house and expect my return.\"\n\nThe disguised sultan, who, while the vizier was speaking, felt\nevery word impress him more and more with the conviction of his\ninnocence, had much difficulty to support his assumed character;\nbut not choosing his visit to the prison should be known at\npresent, he restrained his feelings, and when the minister had\nfinished took his leave, saying, he hoped his presage would be\nfulfilled. He then returned undiscovered to the palace, and\nentering his cabinet, resumed his usual habit; after which he\nissued orders for the release of the vizier, sending him a robe\nof honour and splendid attendants to escort him to court, at the\nsame time condemning to confiscation and imprisonment his\nmalicious accusers. On his arrival, the sultan received the\nvizier with the most gracious distinction; and having presented\nhim with the canopy of state, the seal and the inkstand set with\nrich jewels, the insignia of office, conducted him to a private\nchamber, where falling upon his neck he embraced him, and\nrequesting him to forget past oppression, informed him of his\ndisguised visit to the prison; after which he dismissed him to\nhis own palace.\n\n\n\n\n            STORY OF THE LADY OF CAIRO AND HER FOUR\n                           GALLANTS.\n\n\n\nA virtuous lady of Cairo, who seldom left her house but upon\nurgent business, one day returning from the bath, passed by the\ntribunal of the cauzee just as it was breaking up, when the\nmagistrate perceived her, and struck with her dignity and\nelegance of gait, from which he judged of her beauty, called her\nto him, and in a soft whisper expressed his desire of a private\ninterview. The lady being resolved to punish him for his unworthy\nconduct, seemingly consented, and desired him to repair to her\nhouse that evening, which he gladly promised. She then pursued\nher route homewards, but was on the way accosted by three other\nmen, who made her similar proposals, all which she accepted, and\nfixed that evening for receiving their visits. The first of these\ngallants was the customs tax-collector of Cairo, the second the\nchief of the butchers, and the third a rich merchant.\n\nWhen the lady returned to her house she informed her husband of\nwhat had happened, and begged him to permit her to execute a\nstratagem that she had formed to punish their insolence, which\nwould not only afford himself and her much laughable amusement,\nbut solid advantage, as doubtless the lovers would each bring\nwith him a handsome present. The husband, who knew he could trust\nthe virtue of his wife, readily consented, and the lady having\nprepared a handsome entertainment, adorned herself in her richest\napparel, and seated herself to receive her guests. Evening had\njust shut in, when the venerable cauzee having finished his\nsunset devotions, impatiently repaired first to his mistress and\nknocked at the door, which the lady opened and led him upstairs,\nwhere he presented her with a rosary of valuable pearl; after\nwhich she made him undress, and in place of his robes put on a\nloose vest of yellow muslin, and a parti-coloured cap, her\nhusband all the while looking at them through the door of a\ncloset, and ready to burst his sides with laughter as he beheld\nthe tender grimaces of the enamoured magistrate. The happiness of\nthe venerable gallant was however soon changed to frightful\nalarm, for he had scarcely sat down and begun to partake of some\nrefreshment, when a loud rap was heard at the door; upon which\nthe lady starting up in well-affected terror, cried out,\n\"Mahummud protect us! for this is my husband's knock, and if he\nfinds you here, he will put us both to death.\" The cauzee's heart\nsank within him, and he became more dead than alive; but the lady\nsomewhat revived him by thrusting him into her bed-chamber,\ndesiring him to remain still, as possibly a way might be found\nfor his escape. He gladly retired, secretly vowing that if spared\nfrom his present threatening distress, Satan should no more tempt\nhim to make love or break the sacred law.\n\nThe lady having disposed of the cauzee, hastened to the door, where\nshe found the expecting tax-collector, who brought with him, as a\npresent, a set of jewels. She shewed him upstairs, took off his rich\nclothes, and made him put on a crimson vest, and a green cap with\nblack spots. He had scarcely sat down when the door again resounded,\nand she played over the same game as she had done with the cauzee, who\non his also entering the bed-chamber was somewhat pleased at seeing a\nbrother magistrate in the same ridiculous plight with himself. The\nvenerable lovers condoled by signs with each other, but dared not\nspeak for fear of discovery. The chief of the butchers, on his\narrival, was next ushered up stairs, and his present received, then\nmade to undress and put on a blue vest with a scarlet cap, ornamented\nwith sea shells and bits of tinsel; but he had scarce time to finish,\nwhen a fourth loud rap was heard at the door, the scene of alarm was\nrenewed, and the frightened gallant hurried into the room to keep\ncompany with his rivals. Now appeared the respectable merchant, who\npresented the cunning lady with several rich veils, pieces of silk,\nand embroidered muslins, after which he was asked to undress and\nenrobe himself in a sky coloured vest and a cap striped with red and\nwhite; which he had hardly put on when a thundering knock at the gate\nput an end to his transports, and the wife pretending great alarm, as\nit was her husband's rap, forced him into the bed-chamber, where, to\nhis surprise he discovered three of his intimate acquaintance.\n\nThe husband, who had left his hiding place and knocked at the\ndoor, now entered, and after saluting his wife, sat down, when\nhaving partaken of the refreshments provided for the gallants,\nthe happy couple entered into conversation loud enough to be\noverheard by the wretched inamorati, who were quaking for fear of\ndiscovery. \"Light of my eyes,\" said the husband, \"didst thou meet\nwith any thing amusing to-day in thy visit to the bath? and if\nso, divert me with an account of it.\" \"I did, indeed,\" said the\nlady, \"for I met with four antic creatures, whom\" (at hearing\nthis the unfortunate lovers gave themselves over for lost) \"I had\na great inclination to bring home with me\" (here they recovered a\nlittle from their alarm) \"to divert us, but fearful of your\ndispleasure I did not; however, if agreeable, we can send for\nthem to-morrow.\" The frighted gallants now indulged some hope of\nescape through the kindness of their cunning mistress, and began\nto breathe a little freer, but very short was the suspension of\ntheir fears. \"I am sorry thou didst not bring them,\" said the\nhusband, \"because business will to-morrow call me from home, and\nI shall be absent for some days.\" Upon this, the lady laughing,\nsaid, \"Well, then, you must know that in fact I have brought\nthem, and was diverting myself with them when you came in, but\nfearful you might suspect something wrong I hurried them into our\nbed-chamber, in order to conceal them till I had tried your\ntemper, hoping, should you not be in good humour, to find some\nmeans of letting them out undiscovered.\" It is impossible to\ndescribe the alarm into which the wretched gallants were now\nplunged, especially when the husband commanded his wife to bring\nthem out one by one, saying, \"Let each entertain us with a dance\nand then recite a story, but if they do not please me, I will\nstrike off their heads.\" \"Heaven protect us,\" said the cauzee,\n\"how can men of our gravity dance? but there is no resisting the\ndecrees of fate, nor do I see any chance of escape from this\nartful baggage and her savage husband but by performing as well\nas we can.\" His companions were of the same opinion, and mustered\nwhat courage they could to act as they should be ordered.\n\nThe wife now entered the chamber, and putting a tambourine into\nthe cauzee's hands, led him out and began to play a merry tune\nupon her lute, to which the affrighted magistrate danced with a\nthousand antics and grimaces like an old baboon, beating time\nwith the tambourine, to the great delight of the husband, who\nevery now and then jeeringly cried out, \"Really wife, if I did\nnot know this fellow was a buffoon, I should take him for our\ncauzee; but God forgive me, I know our worthy magistrate is\neither at his devotions, or employed in investigating cases for\nto-morrow's decision.\" Upon this the cauzee danced with redoubled\nvigour, and more ridiculous gestures, in hopes of evading\ndiscovery. At length he was overpowered by such unusual exercise;\nbut the husband had no mercy upon his sufferings, and made him\ncontinue capering by threatening the bastinado, till the tired\njudge was exhausted, and fainted upon the floor in a bath of\nperspiration, when they held him up, and pouring a goblet of wine\ndown his throat it somewhat revived him. He was now suffered to\nbreathe a little, and something given him to eat, which, with a\nsecond cup of liquor, recovered his strength. The husband now\ndemanded his story; and the cauzee, assuming the gesture of a\ncoffee-house droll, began as follows.\n\n\n\n\n                        The Cauzee's Story.\n\n\n\nA young tailor, whose shop was opposite the house of an officer,\nwas so attracted from his work by the appearance of a beautiful\nyoung lady, his wife, in her balcony, that he became desperately\nin love, and would sit whole days waiting her coming, and when\nshe showed herself make signs of his passion. For some time his\nridiculous action diverted her, but at length she grew tired of\nthe farce she had kept up by answering his signals, and of the\ninterruption it gave to her taking the fresh air, so that she\nresolved to punish him for his presumption, and oblige him to\nquit his stall. Having laid her plan, one day when her husband\nwas gone out for a few hours she dispatched a female slave to\ninvite the tailor to drink coffee. To express the rapture of the\nhappy snip is impossible. He fell at the feet of the slave, which\nhe kissed as the welcome messengers of good tidings, gave her a\npiece of gold, and uttered some nonsensical verses that he had\ncomposed in praise of his beloved; then dressing himself in his\nbest habit, he folded his turban in the most tasty manner, and\ncurled his mustachios to the greatest advantage, after which he\nhastened exultingly to the lady's house, and was admitted to her\npresence. She sat upon a rich musnud, and gracefully lifting up\nher veil welcomed the tailor, who was so overcome that he had\nnearly fainted away with excess of rapture. She desired him to be\nseated, but such was his bashfulness that he would not approach\nfarther than the corner of the carpet. Coffee was brought in, and\na cup presented him; but not being used to such magnificence and\nform, and his eyes, also, being staringly fixed on the beauties\nof the lady, instead of carrying the cup to his mouth, he hit his\nnose and overthrew the liquid upon his vest. The lady smiled, and\nordered him another cup; but while he was endeavouring to drink\nit with a little more composure, a loud knock was heard at the\ndoor, and she starting up, cried out with great agitation, \"Good\nheavens! this is my husband's knock; if he finds us together he\nwill sacrifice us to his fury!\" The poor tailor, in terror, fell\nflat upon the carpet, when the lady and her slave threw some cold\nwater upon his face, and when a little recovered hurried him away\nto a chamber, into which they forced him, and desired him to\nremain quiet, as the only means of saving his life. Here he\nremained quivering and trembling, more alive than dead, but\nperfectly cured of his love, and vowing never again to look up at\na balcony.\n\nWhen the tailor was disposed of, the lady again sat down upon her\nstool, and ordered her slave to open the gate. Upon her husband's\nentering the room he was surprised at beholding things set out\nfor an entertainment, and inquired who had been with her; when\nshe replied tartly, \"A lover.\" \"And where is he now?\" angrily\nreplied the officer. \"In yonder chamber, and if you please you\nmay sacrifice him to your fury, and myself afterwards.\" The\nofficer demanded the key, which she gave him; but while this was\npassing, the agony of the unfortunate tailor was worse than\ndeath; he fully expecting every moment to have his head struck\noff: in short, he was in a most pitiable condition. The officer\nwent to the door, and had put the key into the lock, when his\nwife burst suddenly into a fit of laughter: upon which he\nexclaimed angrily, \"Who do you laugh at?\" \"Why, at yourself, to\nbe sure, my wise lord,\" replied the lady; \"for who but yourself\ncould suppose a woman serious when she told him where to find out\na concealed lover? I wanted to discover how far jealousy would\ncarry you, and invented this trick for the purpose,\" The officer,\nupon this, was struck with admiration of his wife's pleasantry\nand his own credulity, which so tickled his fancy that he laughed\nimmoderately, begged pardon for his foolish conduct, and they\nspent the evening cheerfully together; after which, the husband\ngoing to the bath, his wife charitably released the almost dead\ntailor, and reproving him for his impertinence, declared if he\never again looked up at her balcony she would contrive his death.\nThe tailor, perfectly cured of love for his superior in life,\nmade the most abject submission, thanked her for his deliverance,\nhurried home, prayed heartily for his escape, and the very next\nday took care to move from so dangerous a neighbourhood.\n\nThe husband and wife were highly diverted with the cauzee's story,\nand after another dance permitted him to depart, and get home as\nwell as he could in his ridiculous habit. How he got there, and\nwhat excuse he was able to make for so unmagisterial an\nappearance, we are not informed; but strange whispers went about\nthe city, and the cauzee's dance became the favourite one or the\nstrolling drolls, whom he had often the mortification of seeing\ntaking him off as he passed to and from the tribunal, and not\nunfrequently in causes of adultery the evidences and culprits\nwould laugh in his face. He, however, never again suffered Satan\nto tempt him, and was scarcely able to look at a strange woman,\nso great was his fear of being led astray.\n\nWhen the cauzee was gone, the lady, repairing to the apartment,\nbrought out the grave tax-collector, whom her husband addressed\nby name, saying, \"Venerable sir, how long have you turned droll?\ncan you favour me with a dance?\" The tax-collector made no reply,\nbut began capering, nor was he permitted to stop till quite\ntired. He was then allowed to sit, some refreshment was given\nhim, and when revived he was desired to tell a story: knowing\nresistance vain, he complied. After having finished he was\ndismissed, and the other gallants were brought in and treated in\na like manner.\n\n\n\n\n            STORY OF THE MERCHANT, HIS DAUGHTER, AND\n                     THE PRINCE OF EERAUK.\n\n\n\nA certain rich merchant was constantly repining, because\nProvidence had not added to his numerous blessings that of a\nchild to inherit his vast wealth. This want destroyed the power\nof affluence to make him happy, and he importuned heaven with\nunceasing prayers. At length one evening, just as he had\nconcluded his devotions, he heard a voice, saying, \"Thy request\nhas been heard, and thou wilt have a daughter, but she will give\nthee much uneasiness in her fourteenth year by an amour with the\nprince of Eerauk, and remember there is no avoiding the decrees\nof fate.\"\n\nThe merchant's wife that same night conceived, and at the usual\ntime brought forth a daughter, who grew up an exquisite beauty.\nNo pains were spared in her education, so that at thirteen she\nbecame most accomplished, and the fame of her charms and\nperfections was spread throughout the city. The merchant enjoyed\nthe graces of his child, but at the same time his heart was heavy\nwith anxiety for her fate, whenever he called to mind the\nprediction concerning her; so that at length he determined to\nconsult a celebrated dervish, his friend, on the possible means\nof averting the fulfilment of the prophecy. The dervish gave him\nbut little hopes of being able to counteract the will of heaven,\nbut advised him to carry the beautiful maiden to a sequestered\nmansion, situated among unfrequented mountains surrounding it on\nall sides, and the only entrance to which was by a dark cavern\nhewn out of the solid rock, which might be safely guarded by a\nfew faithful domestics. \"Here,\" said the dervish, \"your daughter\nmay pass the predicted year, and if any human care can avail she\nmay be thus saved from the threatened dishonour; but it is in\nvain for man to fight against the arms of heaven, therefore\nprepare thy mind for resignation to its decrees.\"\n\nThe merchant followed the advice of his friend, and having made\nthe necessary preparations, accompanied by him, and attended by\nsome white and black slaves of both sexes, arrived, after a\nmonth's journey, with his daughter, at the desired mansion; in\nwhich having placed her, he, after a day's repose, took his\ndeparture homewards with the dervish. Ample stores of all\nnecessaries for her accommodation had been laid in, and slaves\nmale and female were left for her attendance and protection. Not\nmany days, had elapsed when an incident occurred, clearly proving\nthe emptiness of human caution against the predestination of\nfate. The prince of Eerauk being upon a hunting excursion outrode\nhis attendants, and missing his way, reached the gate of the\ncavern leading to the mansion, which was guarded by two black\nslaves, who seeing a stranger, cried out to him to withdraw. He\nstopped his horse, and in a supplicating tone requested\nprotection and refreshment for the night, as he had wandered from\nthe road, and was almost exhausted from weariness and want of\nfood. The slaves were moved by the representation of his\ndistress, as well as awed by his noble appearance, and\napprehending no danger from a single person, conducted him\nthrough the cavern, into the beautiful valley, in which stood the\nmansion. They then informed their mistress of his arrival, who\ncommanded him to be introduced into an apartment, in which an\nelegant entertainment was provided, where she gave him the most\nhospitable reception. To become known to each other was to love;\nnor was it long ere the prediction respecting the merchant's\ndaughter proved fully verified. Some months passed in mutual\nhappiness; when the prince, becoming anxious to return to his\nfriends, took leave of his mistress, promising when he had seen\nhis family to visit her again, and make her his wife.\n\nOn his way he met the merchant, who was coming to see his\ndaughter. Halting at the same spot they fell into conversation,\nin which each inquired after the other's situation, and the\nprince, little aware to whom he was speaking, related his late\nadventure. The merchant, convinced that all his caution had been\nvain, concealed his uneasiness, resolved to take his daughter\nhome, make the best of what had happened, and never again to\nstruggle against fate. On his arrival at the cavern he found his\ndaughter unwell; and before they reached their own abode she was\ndelivered of a male infant, who, to save her credit, was left\nexposed in a small tent with a sum of money laid under its\npillow, in hopes that the first passenger would take the child\nunder his care. It so happened, that a caravan passing by, the\nleader of it, on examining the tent and seeing the infant, took\nit up, and having no children adopted it as his own. The prince\nof Eerauk having seen his parents, again repaired to visit his\nbeautiful mistress, and on his journey to the cavern once more\nmet the merchant, who, at his daughter's request, was travelling\ntowards Eerauk to acquaint him with her situation. The prince,\noverjoyed, accompanied the merchant home, married the young lady,\nand with her parents returned to his dominions. Their exposed\nson, after long inquiry, was discovered, and liberal rewards\nbestowed on the leader of the caravan, who at his own request was\npermitted to reside in the palace of Eerauk, and superintend the\neducation of his adopted son.\n\n\n\n\n            ADVENTURES OF THE CAUZEE, HIS WIFE, &c.\n\n\n\nIn the capital of Bagdad there was formerly a cauzee, who filled\nthe seat of justice with the purest integrity, and who by his\nexample in private life gave force to the strictness of his\npublic decrees. After some years spent in this honourable post,\nhe became anxious to make the pilgrimage to Mecca; and having\nobtained permission of the caliph, departed on his pious journey,\nleaving his wife, a beautiful woman, under the protection of his\nbrother, who promised to respect her as his daughter. The cauzee,\nhowever, had not long left home, when the brother, instigated by\npassion, made love to his sister-in-law, which she rejected with\nscorn; being, however, unwilling to expose so near a relative to\nher husband, she endeavoured to divert him from his purpose by\nargument on the heinousness of his intended crime, but in vain.\nThe abominable wretch, instead of repenting, a gain and again\noffered his love, and at last threatened, if she would not accept\nhis love, to accuse her of adultery, and bring upon her the\npunishment of the law. This threat having no effect, the\natrocious villain suborned evidences to swear that they had seen\nher in the act of infidelity, and she was sentenced to receive\none hundred strokes with a knotted whip, and be banished from the\ncity. Having endured this disgraceful punishment, the unhappy\nlady was led through Bagdad by the public executioner, amid the\ntaunts and scorns of the populace; after which she was thrust oat\nof the gates and left to shift for herself. Relying on\nProvidence, and without complaining of its decrees, she resolved\nto travel to Mecca, in hopes of meeting her husband, and clearing\nher defamed character to him, whose opinion alone she valued.\nWhen advanced some days on her journey she entered a city, and\nperceived a great crowd of people following the executioner, who\nled a young man by a rope tied about his neck. Inquiring the\ncrime of the culprit, she was informed that he owed a hundred\ndeenars, which being unable to pay, he was sentenced to be hung,\nsuch being the punishment of insolvent debtors in that city. The\ncauzee's wife, moved with compassion, immediately tendered the\nsum, being nearly all she had, when the young man was released,\nand falling upon his knees before her, vowed to dedicate his life\nto her service. She related to him her intention of making the\npilgrimage to Mecca, upon which the young man requested to\naccompany and protect her, to which she consented. They set out\non their journey; but had not proceeded many days, when the youth\nforgot his obligations, and giving way to impulse, insulted his\nbenefactress by offering her his love. The unfortunate lady\nreasoned with him on the ingratitude of his conduct, and the\nyouth seemed to be convinced and repentant, but revenge rankled\nin his heart. Some days after this they reached the sea-shore,\nwhere the young man perceiving a ship, made a signal to speak\nwith it, and the master letting down his boat sent it to land;\nupon which the young man going on board the vessel, informed the\nmaster that he had for sale a handsome female slave, for whom he\nasked a thousand deenars. The master, who had been used to\npurchase slaves upon that coast, went on shore, and looking at\nthe cauzee's wife, paid the money to the wicked young man, who\nwent his way, and the lady was carried on board the ship,\nsupposing that her companion had taken the opportunity of easing\nher fatigue, by procuring her a passage to some sea-port near\nMecca: but her persecution was not to end here. In the evening\nshe was insulted by attentions of the master of the vessel, who\nbeing surprised at her coolness, informed her that he had\npurchased her as his slave for a thousand deenars. The\nunfortunate lady told him that she was a free woman, but this had\nno effect on the brutish sailor, who finding tenderness\nineffectual proceeded to force and blows in order to reduce her\nto submit to his authority. Her strength was almost exhausted,\nwhen suddenly the ship struck upon a rock, the master was hurried\nupon deck, and in a few moments the vessel went to pieces.\nProvidentially the virtuous wife laying hold of a plank was\nwafted to the shore, after being for several hours buffeted by\nthe waves. Having recovered her senses she walked inland, and\nfound a pleasant country abounding in fruits and clear streams,\nwhich satisfied her hunger and thirst. On the second day she\narrived at a magnificent city, and on entering it was conducted\nto the sultan, who inquiring her story, she informed him that she\nwas a woman devoted to a religious life, and was proceeding on\nthe pilgrimage to Mecca, when her vessel was shipwrecked on his\ncoast, and whether any of the crew had escaped she knew not, as\nshe had seen none of them since her being cast ashore on a plank;\nbut as now the hopes of her reaching the sacred house were cut\noff, if the sultan would allot her a small hut, and a trifling\npittance for her support, she would spend the remainder of her\ndays in prayers for the prosperity of himself and his subjects.\n\nThe sultan, who was truly devout, and pitied the misfortune of\nthe lady, gladly acceded to her request, and allotted a pleasant\ngarden-house near his palace for her residence, at which he often\nvisited her, and conversed with her on religious topics, to his\ngreat edification and comfort, for she was sensibly pious. Not\nlong after her arrival, several refractory vassals who had for\nyears withheld their usual tribute, and against whom the good\nsultan, unwilling to shed blood, though his treasury much felt\nthe defalcation, had not sent a force to compel payment,\nunexpectedly sent in their arrears; submissively begged pardon\nfor their late disobedience, and promised in future to be loyal\nin their duty. The sultan, who attributed this fortunate event to\nthe successful prayers of his virtuous guest, mentioned his\nopinion to his courtiers in full divan, and they to their\ndependents. As, according to the proverb, the sheep always follow\ntheir leader, so it was in the present instance. All ranks of\npeople on every emergency flocked to beg the prayers and counsel\nof the sultan's favourite devotee; and such was their efficacy,\nthat her clients every day became more numerous, nor were they\nungrateful; so that in a short time the offerings made to her\namounted in value to an incalculable sum. Her reputation was not\nconfined to the kingdom of her protector, but spread gradually\nabroad through all the countries in the possession of true\nbelievers, who came from all parts of Asia to solicit her\nprayers. Her residence was enlarged to a vast extent, in which\nshe supported great numbers of destitute persons, as well as\nentertained the crowds of poor people who came in pilgrimage to\nso holy a personage as she was now esteemed. But we must now\nreturn to her pious husband.\n\nThe good cauzee having finished the ceremonies of his pilgrimage\nat Mecca, where he resided one year, and visited all the holy\nspots around, returned to Bagdad: but dreadful was his agony and\ngrief when informed that his wife had played the harlot, and that\nhis brother, unable to bear the disgrace of his family, had left\nthe city, and had not been heard of since. This sad intelligence\nhad such an effect upon his mind, that he resolved to give up\nworldly concerns, and adopt the life of a wandering religious, to\nmove from place to place, from country to country, and visit the\ndevotees celebrated for sanctity in each. For two years he\ntravelled through various kingdoms, and at length hearing of his\nwife's fame, though he little supposed the much-talked-of female\nsaint stood in that relation to himself, he resolved to pay his\nrespects to so holy a personage. With this view he journeyed\ntowards the capital of the sultan her protector, hoping to\nreceive benefit from her pious conversation and prayers.\n\nThe cauzee on his way overtook his treacherous brother, who,\nrepenting of his wicked life, had turned mendicant, and was going\nto confess his sins, and ask the prayers for absolution of the\nfar-famed religious woman. Time and alteration of dress, for they\nwere both habited as dervishes, caused the brothers not to know\neach other. As fellow travellers they entered into conversation;\nand finding they were both bound the same way, agreed to continue\ntheir journey together. They had not proceeded many days when\nthey came up with a driver of camels, who informed them that he\nwas upon the same errand as themselves, having been guilty of a\nhorrid crime, the reflection upon which tormented his conscience,\nand made life miserable; that he was going to confess his sins to\nthe pious devotee, and consult her on whatever penance could\natone for his villany, of which he had heartily repented, and\nhoped to obtain the mercy of heaven by a sincere reformation of\nlife. The crime of this wretch was no less than murder; the\ncircumstances of which we forgot to detail in its proper place.\nThe cauzee's wife immediately after her expulsion from Bagdad,\nand before she had met the young man who sold her for a slave,\nhad taken shelter in the hut of a camel breeder, whose wife owed\nher great obligations, and who received her with true hospitality\nand kindness; consoling her in her misfortunes, dressing her\nwounds, and insisting on her stay till she should be fully\nrecovered of the painful effects of her unjust and disgraceful\npunishment; and in this she was seconded by the honest husband.\nWith this humble couple, who had an infant son, she remained some\ntime, and was recovering her spirits and beauty when the wicked\ncamel breeder, first mentioned, arrived on a visit to her host;\nand being struck with her beauty made love to her, which she\nmildly but firmly rejected, informing him that she was a married\nwoman. Blinded by passion, the wretch pressed his addresses\nrepeatedly, but in vain; till at length, irritated by refusal, he\nchanged his love into furious anger, and resolved to revenge his\ndisappointed lust by her death. With this view he armed himself\nwith a poniard; and about midnight, when the family were asleep,\nstole into the chamber where she reposed, and close by her the\ninfant son of her generous host. The villain being in the dark\nmade a random stroke, not knowing of the infant, and instead of\nstabbing the object of his revenge, plunged his weapon into the\nbosom of the child, who uttered loud screams; upon which the\nassassin, fearful of detection, ran away, and escaped from the\nhouse. The cauzee's wife awaking in a fright, alarmed her unhappy\nhosts, who, striking a light, came to her assistance; but how can\nwe describe their agonizing affliction when they beheld their\nbeloved child expiring, and their unfortunate guest, who had\nswooned away, bathed in the infant's blood. From such a scene we\nturn away, as the pen is incapable of description. The unhappy\nlady at length revived, but their darling boy was gone for ever.\nSome days after this tragical event she began her pilgrimage,\nand, as above stated, reached the city where she released the\nyoung man from his cruel creditors, and was shortly afterwards\nungratefully sold by him as a slave. But to return to the good\ncauzee and his wicked companions.\n\nThey had not travelled far when they overtook a young man, who\nsaluted them, and inquired their course; of which being informed,\nhe begged to join in company, saying, that he also was going to\npay his respects to the celebrated religious, in hopes that by\nher prayers he might obtain pardon of God for a most flagitious\ningratitude; the remorse for which had rendered him a burthen to\nhimself ever since the commission of the crime. The four pilgrims\npursued their journey, and a few days afterwards overtook the\nmaster of a vessel, who told them he had some time back suffered\nshipwreck; since which he had undergone the severest distress,\nand was now going to request the aid of the far-famed woman,\nwhose charities and miraculous prayers had been noised abroad\nthrough all countries. The companions then invited him to join\nthem, and they proceeded on the pilgrimage together, till at\nlength they reached the capital of the good sultan who protected\nthe cauzee's wife.\n\nThe five pilgrims having entered the city, repaired immediately\nto the abode of the respected devotee; the courts of which were\ncrowded with petitioners from all parts, so that they could with\ndifficulty gain admission. Some of her domestics seeing they were\nstrangers newly arrived, and seemingly fatigued, kindly invited\nthem, into an apartment, and to repose themselves while they\ninformed their mistress of their arrival; which having done, they\nbrought word that she would see them when the crowd was\ndispersed, and hear their petitions at her leisure. Refreshments\nwere then brought in, of which they were desired to partake, and\nthe pilgrims having make their ablutions, sat down to eat, all\nthe while admiring and praising the hospitality of their pious\nhostess; who, unperceived by them, was examining their persons\nand features through the lattice of a balcony, at one end of the\nhall. Her heart beat with joyful rapture when she beheld her long\nlost husband, whose absence she had never ceased to deplore, but\nscarcely expected ever to meet him again; and great was her\nsurprise to find him in company with his treacherous brother, her\ninfamous intending assassin, her ungrateful betrayer the young\nman, and the master of the vessel to whom he had sold her as a\nslave. It was with difficulty she restrained her feelings; but\nnot choosing to discover herself till she should hear their\nadventures, she withdrew into her chamber, and being relieved by\ntears prostrated herself on the earth, and offered up\nthanksgivings to the protector of the just, who had rewarded her\npatience under affliction by succeeding blessings, and at length\nrestored to her the partner of her heart. Having finished her\ndevotions, she sent to the sultan requesting him to send her a\nconfidential officer, who might witness the relations of five\nvisitors whom she was going to examine. On his arrival she placed\nhim where he could listen unseen; and covering herself with a\nveil, sat down on her stool to receive the pilgrims, who being\nadmitted, bowed their foreheads to the ground; when requesting\nthem to arise, she addressed them as follows: \"You are welcome,\nbrethren, to my humble abode, to my counsel and my prayers,\nwhich, by God's mercy, have sometimes relieved the repentant\nsinner; but as it is impossible I can give advice without hearing\na case, or pray without knowing the wants of him who entreats me,\nyou must relate your histories with the strictest truth, for\nequivocation, evasion, or concealment, will prevent my being of\nany service; and this you may depend upon, that the prayers of a\nliar tend only to his own destruction.\" Having said this, she\nordered the cauzee to remain, but the other four to withdraw; as\nshe should, to spare their shame before each other, hear their\ncases separately. The good cauzee having no sins to confess\nrelated his pilgrimage to Mecca; the supposed infidelity of his\nwife; and his consequent resolve to spend his days in visiting\nsacred places and holy personages, among whom she stood so\nfamous, that to hear her edifying conversation, and entreat the\nbenefit of her prayers for his unhappy wife, was the object of\nhis having travelled to her sacred abode. When he had finished\nhis narrative the lady dismissed him to another chamber, and\nheard one by one the confessions of his companions; who not\ndaring to conceal any thing, related their cruel conduct towards\nherself, as above-mentioned; but little suspecting that they were\nacknowledging their guilt to the intended victim of their evil\npassions. After this the cauzee's wife commanded the officer to\nconduct all five to the sultan, and inform him of what he had\nheard them confess. The sultan, enraged at the wicked behaviour\nof the cauzee's brother, the camel-driver, the young man, and the\nmaster of the vessel, condemned them to death; and the\nexecutioner was preparing to put the sentence in force, when the\nlady arriving at the presence demanded their pardon; and to his\nunspeakable joy discovered herself to her delighted husband. The\nsultan complying with her request, dismissed the criminals; but\nprevailed on the cauzee to remain at his court, where for the\nremainder of his life this upright judge filled the high office\nof chief magistrate with honour to himself, and satisfaction to\nall who had causes tried before him; while he and his faithful\npartner continued striking examples of virtue and conjugal\nfelicity. The sultan was unbounded in his favour towards them,\nand would often pass whole evenings in their company in friendly\nconversation, which generally turned upon the vicissitudes of\nlife, and the goodness of Providence in relieving the sufferings\nof the faithful, by divine interposition, at the very instant\nwhen ready to sink under them and overwhelmed with calamity. \"I\nmyself,\" said the sultan, \"am an example of the protection of\nheaven, as you, my friends, will learn from my adventures.\" He\nthen began as follows.\n\n\n\n\n                   The Sultan's Story of Himself.\n\n\n\nThough now seated on a throne, I was not born to such exalted\nrank, but am the son of a rich merchant in a country far distant\nfrom this which I now govern. My father brought me up to his own\nprofession; and by instruction and example encouraged me to be\nvirtuous, diligent, and honest. Soon after I had attained to the\nage of manhood death snatched away this valuable parent, who in\nhis last moments gave me instructions for my future conduct; but\nparticularly requested that nothing might ever prevail upon me to\ntake an oath, though ever so just or necessary to my concerns. I\nassured him it would not: soon after which he breathed his last,\nleaving me, my mother, and sister in sincere grief for his loss.\nAfter the funeral I examined his property, and found myself in\npossession of a vast sum of money, besides an ample stock in\ntrade, two-thirds of which I immediately paid to my mother and\nsister, who retired to a house which they purchased for\nthemselves. Many weeks had not elapsed when a merchant set up a\nclaim on my father's estate for a sum of money equal to nearly\nthe whole that I possessed: I asked him for his bond, but he had\nnone, yet swore solemnly to the justice of his demand. I had no\ndoubt of the falsity of his oath, but as I had promised never to\nswear, I could not disprove it by mine, and therefore was obliged\nto pay the money, which I did entirely from my own share, not\nchoosing to distress my mother and sister by lessening theirs.\nAfter this, other unjust demands were preferred, and I paid them,\nrather than falsify my promise to my father, though by so doing I\nbecame reduced to the most abject poverty, as still I would not\ntrouble my mother. At length I resolved to quit my native city,\nand seek for subsistence in a distant country as clerk to a\nmerchant, or in any other way that might offer. I accordingly set\nout alone, and had travelled some days, when in passing over a\nsandy desert I met a venerable looking personage dressed in\nwhite, who kindly accosting me, inquired the object of my\njourney: upon which I related my story. The old man blessed me,\nhighly praised the steadfastness of my adherence to the promise I\nhad made to a dying father; and said, \"My son, be not dismayed,\nthy virtuous conduct has been approved by our holy prophet, who\nhas interceded for thee at the throne of bounty: follow me, and\nreap the reward of thy sufferings.\" I did as he desired; and we,\nafter some time, reached this city, which was then wholly\ndepopulated, and even this palace in a state of decay. On our\nentrance my venerable guide bade me welcome, saying, \"Here heaven\nhas decreed thee to reign, and thou wilt soon become a powerful\nsultan.\" He then conducted me to the palace, and we descended\nfrom one of the apartments into a vault, where to my astonishment\nI beheld vast heaps of gold and silver ingots, large bags of\ncoins of the same metals, and several rich chests filled with\njewels of inestimable value, of all which he saluted me master. I\nwas overcome with astonishment; but said, \"Of what use is all\nthis wealth in a depopulated city? and how can I be a sultan\nwithout subjects?\" The old man smiled, and said, \"Have patience,\nmy son; this evening a numerous caravan will arrive here composed\nof emigrants, who are in search of a settlement, and they will\nelect thee their sovereign.\" His words proved true; the caravan\narrived, when the old man invited them to inhabit the city; his\noffer was gladly accepted, and by his direction they declared me\ntheir sultan. My protector remained with me a whole year, during\nwhich he gave me instructions how to govern, and I became what I\nam. Heaven has prospered my endeavours to do good: the fame of my\nliberality, justice, and clemency soon spread abroad; the city\nwas soon filled by industrious inhabitants, who repaired the\ndecayed buildings, and erected new ones. The country round became\nwell cultivated, and our port was filled with vessels from every\nquarter. I shortly after sent for my family, for I had left\nbehind me a wife and two sons; and you may guess from your own\njoy at meeting after long separation what must have been mine on\nsuch an occasion. My venerable patron, at the expiration of the\nyear, one day thus addressed me: \"My son, as my mission is\ncompleted I must now leave you; but be not alarmed, for provided\nthou continuest to act as thou hast begun, we shall meet again.\nKnow that I am the prophet Khizzer, and was sent by heaven to\nprotect thee. Mayest thou deserve its blessings!\" Having said\nthis he embraced me in his arms, and then vanished, how I know\nnot, from my sight. For some time I continued rapt in\nastonishment and wonder, which at length gave place to\nreverential awe and gratitude to heaven; by degrees I recovered\nmyself, and bowed down with fervent devotion. I have endeavoured\nto follow the admonitions of my holy adviser. It is unnecessary\nto say more; you see my state and the happiness I enjoy.\n\n\n\n\n                          CONCLUSION.\n\n\n\nThe sultan of the Indies could not but admire the prodigious and\ninexhaustible memory of the sultaness his wife, who had\nentertained him so many nights with such a variety of interesting\nstories.\n\nA thousand and one nights had passed away in these innocent\namusements, which contributed so much towards removing the\nsultan's unhappy prejudice against the fidelity of women. His\ntemper was softened. He was convinced of the merit and great\nwisdom of the sultaness Scheherazade. He remembered with what\ncourage she had offered to be his wife, without fearing the death\nto which she knew she exposed herself, as so many sultanesses had\nsuffered within her knowledge.\n\nThese considerations, and the many other good qualities he knew\nher to possess, induced him at last to forgive her. \"I see,\nlovely Scheherazade,\" said he, \"that you can never be at a loss\nfor these little stories, which have so long diverted me. You\nhave appeased my anger. I freely renounce the law I had imposed\non myself. I restore your sex to my favourable opinion, and will\nhave you to be regarded as the deliverer of the many damsels I\nhad resolved to sacrifice to my unjust resentment.\"\n\nThe sultaness cast herself at his feet, and embraced them\ntenderly with all the marks of the most lively and perfect\ngratitude.\n\nThe grand vizier was the first who learned this agreeable\nintelligence from the sultan's own mouth. It was instantly\ncarried to the city, towns, and provinces; and gained the sultan,\nand the lovely Scheherazade his consort, universal applause, and\nthe blessings of all the people of the extensive empire of the\nIndies.\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Volume 4.","title":"The Arabian Nights Entertainments - Complete","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":545118}