"There is no need of that," returned the other: "come with me;" and, so saying, he led the young man to a splendid white steed, on which sat a lady, covered with a long veil. The Emir lifted the veil, and Azgid beheld the beautiful face of his beloved mistress.

Their meeting, as may be imagined, was most tender and affectionate; and the Vizier, having ordered the music to strike up, the whole procession moved toward the palace.

"How strange it seems!" said the Prince: "when I fled from my duty everything went wrong with me; but now, after fulfilling it, good luck meets me at every step."

Azgid was crowned the same day, and in the evening his nuptials with the fair Perizide were celebrated; they lived long and happily; and the Prince ordered the story of his life to be written in the annals of the kingdom, and an inscription in gold letters to be placed over the door of the palace, with these words: "Never run from the lion."



The City of the Demons



In days of yore there lived in the flourishing city of Cairo a Hebrew Rabbi, by name Jochonan, who was the most learned of his nation. His fame went over the East, and the most distant people sent their young men to imbibe wisdom from his lips. He was deeply skilled in the traditions of the fathers, and his word on a disputed point was decisive. He was pious, just, temperate, and strict; but he had one vice: a love of gold had seized upon his heart, and he opened not his hand to the poor. Yet he was wealthy above most: his wisdom being to him the source of riches. The Hebrews of the city were grieved at this blemish on the wisest of their people; but, though the elders of the tribes continued to reverence him for his fame, the women and children of Cairo called him by no other name than that of Rabbi Jochonan the Miser.

None knew so well as he the ceremonies necessary for initiation into the religion of Moses, and, consequently, the exercise of those solemn offices was to him another source of gain. One day, as he walked in the fields about Cairo, conversing with a youth on the interpretation of the law, it so happened that the Angel of Death smote the young man suddenly, and he fell dead before the feet of the Rabbi, even while he was yet speaking. When the Rabbi found that the youth was dead, he rent his garments, and glorified the Lord. But his heart was touched, and the thoughts of death troubled him in the visions of the night. He felt uneasy when he reflected on his hardness to the poor; and he said,

"Blessed be the name of the Lord! The first good thing that I am asked to do in that holy name will I perform." But he sighed, for he feared that some one might ask of him a portion of his gold.

While yet he thought upon these things, there came a loud cry at his gate.

"Awake, thou sleeper!" said the voice, "awake! A child is in danger of death, and the mother hath sent me for thee, that thou mayest do thine office."

"The night is dark and gloomy," said the Rabbi, coming to his casement, "and mine age is great: are there not younger men than I in Cairo?"

"For thee only, Rabbi Jochonan, whom some call the Wise, but whom others call Rabbi Jochonan the Miser, was I sent. Here is gold," said he, taking out a purse of sequins; "I want not thy labour for nothing. I adjure thee to come, in the name of the living God."

So the Rabbi thought upon the vow he had just made, and he groaned in spirit, for the purse sounded heavy.

"As thou hast adjured me by that name, I go with thee," said he to the man; "but I hope the distance is not far. Put up thy gold."

"The place is at hand," said the stranger, who was a gallant youth, in magnificent attire. "Be speedy, for time presses."

Jochonan arose, dressed himself, and accompanied the stranger, after having carefully locked up all the doors of his house, and deposited his keys in a secret place—at which the stranger smiled.

"I never remember," said the Rabbi, "so dark a night. Be thou to me as a guide, for I can hardly see the way."

"I know it well," replied the stranger with a sigh. "It is a way much frequented, and travelled hourly by many. Lean upon mine arm, and fear not."

They journeyed on, and, though the darkness was great, yet the Rabbi could see, when it occasionally brightened, that he was in a place strange to him.

"I thought," said he, "I knew all the country for leagues about Cairo, yet I know not where I am. I hope, young man," said he to his companion, "that thou hast not missed the way." And his heart misgave him.

"Fear not," returned the stranger; "your journey is even now done." And, as he spoke, the feet of the Rabbi slipped from under him, and he rolled down a great height. When he recovered, he found that his companion had fallen also, and stood by his side.

"Nay, young man," said the Rabbi, "if thus thou sportest with the grey hairs of age, thy days are numbered. Woe unto him who insults the hoary head!"

The stranger made an excuse, and they journeyed on some little farther in silence. The darkness grew less, and the astonished Rabbi, lifting up his eyes, found that they had come to the gates of a city which he had never before seen. Yet he knew all the cities of the land of Egypt, and he had walked but half an hour from his dwelling in Cairo. So he knew not what to think, but followed the man with trembling.

They soon entered the gates of the city, which was lighted up as if there were a festival in every house. The streets were full of revellers, and nothing but a sound of joy could be heard. But when Jochonan looked upon their faces, they were the faces of men pained within; and he saw, by the marks they bore, that they were Mazikin.[1] He was terrified in his soul, and, by the light of the torches, he looked also upon the face of his companion, and, behold! he saw upon him too the mark that showed him to be a Demon. The Rabbi feared excessively—almost to fainting; but he thought it better to be silent, and sadly he followed his guide, who brought him to a splendid house in the most magnificent quarter of the city.

[Footnote 1: Demons]

"Enter here," said the Demon to Jochonan, "for this house is mine. The lady and the child are in the upper chamber." And accordingly the sorrowful Rabbi ascended the stairs to find them.

The lady, whose dazzling beauty was shrouded by melancholy beyond hope, lay in bed; the child, in rich raiment, slumbered on the lap of the nurse, by her side.

"I have brought to thee, light of my eyes!" said the Demon, "Rebecca, beloved of my soul! I have brought unto thee Rabbi Jochonan the Wise, for whom thou didst desire. Let him, then, speedily begin his office; I shall fetch all things necessary, for he is in haste to depart." He smiled bitterly as he said these words, looking at the Rabbi, and left the room, followed by the nurse.

When Jochonan and the lady were alone, she turned in the bed towards him, and said,

"Unhappy man that thou art! knowest thou where thou hast been brought?"

"I do," said he, with a heavy groan. "I know that I am in a city of the Mazikin."

"Know then, further," said she, and the tears gushed from eyes brighter than the diamond, "know then, further, that up one is ever brought here unless he hath sinned before the Lord. What my sin hath been imports not to thee—and I seek not to know thine. But here thou remainest for ever—lost, even as I am lost." And she wept again.

The Rabbi dashed his turban on the ground, and, tearing his hair, exclaimed, "Woe is me! Who art thou, woman, that speakest to me thus?"

"I am a Hebrew woman," said she, "the daughter of a Doctor of the Laws, in the city of Bagdad; and being brought hither—it matters not how—I am married to a Prince among the Mazikin, even him who was sent for thee. And that child whom thou sawest is our first-born, and I could not bear the thought that the soul of our innocent babe should perish. I therefore besought my husband to try and bring hither a priest, that the law of Moses (blessed be his memory!) should be done; and thy fame, which has spread to Bagdad, and lands farther towards the rising of the sun, made me think of thee. Now, my husband, though great among the Mazikin, is more just than the other Demons; and he loves me, whom he hath ruined, with a love of despair. So he said that the name of Jochonan the Wise was familiar unto him, and that he knew thou wouldst not be able to refuse. What thou hast done to give him power over thee is known to thyself."

"I swear, before Heaven," said the Rabbi, "that I have ever diligently kept the law, and walked steadfastly according to the traditions of our fathers from the days of my youth upward. I have wronged no man in word or deed, and I have daily worshipped the Lord, minutely performing all the ceremonies thereto needful."

"Nay," said the lady, "all this thou mightest have done, and more, and yet be in the power of the Demons. But time passes, for I hear the foot of my husband mounting the stair. There is one chance of thine escape."

"What is that, O lady of beauty?" said the agonized Rabbi.

"Eat not, drink not, nor take fee or reward while here, and as long as thou canst do thus, the Mazikin have no power over thee, dead or alive. Have courage and persevere."

As she ceased from speaking, her husband entered the room, followed by the nurse, who bore all things requisite for the ministration of the Rabbi. With a heavy heart he performed his duty, and the child was numbered among the Faithful. But when, as usual, at the conclusion of the ceremony, the wine was handed round to be tasted by the child, the mother, and the Rabbi, he refused it when it came to him, saying,

"Spare me, my lord, for I have made a vow that I fast this day, and I will eat not, neither will I drink."

"Be it as thou pleasest," said the Demon; "I will not that thou shouldst break thy vow." And he laughed aloud.

So the poor Rabbi was taken into a chamber looking into a garden, where he passed the remainder of the night and the day, weeping and praying to the Lord that He would deliver him from the city of Demons. But when the twelfth hour came, and the sun was set, the Prince of the Mazikin came again unto him, and said,

"Eat now, I pray thee, for the day of thy vow is past." And he set meat before him.

"Pardon again thy servant, my lord," said Jochonan, "in this thing. I have another vow for this day also. I pray thee be not angry with thy servant."

"I am not angry," said the Demon; "be it as thou pleasest: I respect thy vow." And he laughed louder than before.

So the Rabbi sat another day in his chamber by the garden, weeping and praying; and when the sun had gone behind the hills, the Prince of the Mazikin again stood before him, and said,

"Eat now, for thou must be an hungered. It was a sore vow of thine." And he offered him daintier meats.

And Jochonan felt a strong desire to eat, but he prayed inwardly to the Lord, and the temptation passed, and he answered, "Excuse thy servant yet a third time, my lord, that I eat not. I have renewed my vow."

"Be it so, then," said the other: "arise, and follow me."

The Demon took a torch in his hand, and led the Rabbi, through winding passages of his palace, to the door of a lofty chamber, which he opened with a key that he took from a niche in the wall. On entering the room, Jochonan saw that it was of solid silver—floor, ceiling, walls, even to the threshold and the door-posts; and the curiously carved roof and borders of the ceiling shone in the torchlight as if they were the fanciful work of frost. In the midst were heaps of silver money, piled up in immense urns of the same metal, even over the brim.

"Thou hast done me a serviceable act, Rabbi," said the Demon: "take of these what thou pleasest; ay, were it the whole."

"I cannot, my lord," said Jochonan. "I was adjured by thee to come hither in the name of God, and in that name I came, not for fee or for reward."

"Follow me," said the Prince of the Mazikin; and Jochonan did so into an inner chamber.

It was of gold, as the other was of silver. Its golden roof was supported by pillars and pilasters of gold, resting upon a golden floor. The treasures of the kings of the earth would not purchase one of the four and twenty vessels of golden coins, which were disposed in six rows along the room. No wonder! for they were filled by the constant labours of the Demons of the Mine. The heart of Jochonan was moved by avarice when he saw them shining in yellow light, like the autumnal sun, as they reflected the beams of the torch. But God enabled him to persevere.

"These are thine," said the Demon: "one of the vessels which thou beholdest would make thee richest of the sons of men, and I give thee them all."

But Jochonan refused again, and the Prince of the Mazikin opened the door of a third chamber, which was called the Hall of Diamonds. When the Rabbi entered, he screamed aloud, and put his hands over his eyes, for the lustre of the jewels dazzled him, as if he had looked upon the noonday sun. In vases of agate were heaped diamonds beyond numeration, the smallest of which was larger than a pigeon's egg. On alabaster tables lay amethysts, topazes, rubies, beryls, and all other precious stones, wrought by the hands of skilful artists, beyond power of computation. The room was lighted by a carbuncle, which, from the end of the hall, poured its ever-living light, brighter than the rays of noontide, but cooler than the gentle radiance of the dewy moon. This was a sore trial to the Rabbi; but he was strengthened from above, and he refused again.

"Thou knowest me, then, I perceive, O Jochonan, son of Ben-David," said the Prince of the Mazikin. "I am a Demon who would tempt thee to destruction. As thou hast withstood so far, I tempt thee no more. Thou hast done a service which, though I value it not, is acceptable in the sight of her whose love is dearer to me than the light of life. Sad has been that love to thee, my Rebecca! Why should I do that which would make thy cureless grief more grievous?—You have yet another chamber to see," said he to Jochonan, who had closed his eyes, and was praying fervently to the Lord, beating his breast.

Far different from the other chambers, the one into which the Rabbi was next introduced was a mean and paltry apartment without furniture. On its filthy walls hung innumerable bunches of rusty keys of all sizes, disposed without order. Among them, to the astonishment of Jochonan, hung the keys of his own house—those which he had put to hide when he came on this miserable journey—and he gazed upon them intently.

"What dost thou see," said the Demon, "that makes thee look so eagerly? Can he who has refused silver and gold and diamonds be moved by a paltry bunch of rusty iron?"

"They are mine own, my lord," said the Rabbi. "Them will I take, if they be offered me."

"Take them, then," said the Demon, putting them into his hand: "thou mayst depart. But, Rabbi, open not thy house only when thou returnest to Cairo, but thy heart also. That thou didst not open it before was that which gave me power over thee. It was well that thou didst one act of charity in coming with me without reward, for it has been thy salvation. Be no more Rabbi Jochonan the Miser."

The Rabbi bowed to the ground, and blessed the Lord for his escape. "But how," said he, "am I to return, for I know not the way?"

"Close thine eyes," said the Demon.

He did so, and, in the space of a moment, heard the voice of the Prince of the Mazikin ordering him to open them again. And behold, when he opened them, he stood in the centre of his own chamber, in his house at Cairo, with the keys in his hand.

When he recovered from his surprise, and had offered thanksgivings to God, he opened his house, and his heart also. He gave alms to the poor, he cheered the heart of the widow, and lightened the destitution of the orphan. His hospitable board was open to the stranger, and his purse was at the service of all who needed to share it. His life was a perpetual act of benevolence, and the blessings showered upon him by all were returned bountifully upon him by the hand of God.

But people wondered, and said, "Is not this the man who was called Rabbi Jochonan the Miser? What hath made the change?"

And it became a saying in Cairo. When it came to the ears of the Rabbi, he called his friends together, and he avowed his former love of gold, and the danger to which it had exposed him, relating all which has been above told, in the hall of the new palace that he built by the side of the river, on the left hand, as thou goest down the course of the great stream. And wise men, who were scribes, wrote it down from his mouth for the benefit of mankind, that they might profit thereby. And a venerable man, with a beard of snow, who had read it in these books, and at whose feet I sat that I might learn the wisdom of the old time, told it to me. And I write it in the tongue of England, the merry and the free, on the tenth day of the month Nisan, in the year, according to the lesser computation, five hundred ninety and seven, that thou mayest learn good thereof. If not, the fault be upon thee.



Jussuf, the Merchant of Balsora.



Many hundred years ago, when the renowned Caliph Haroun al Raschid ruled in Bagdad, there lived in the town of Balsora a merchant of good repute, who was called Jussuf. He had received a considerable property by inheritance from his father; and his paternal house, which was esteemed as the most splendid palace of the town, was situated on one of the finest spots. He was obliged to keep a great number both of male and female slaves, as well for the management of his household affairs, as also to assist him in his commercial pursuits, for his business was very extensive. The largest warehouse in the bazaar of the city belonged to him, and it was always filled with the most precious goods, which he caused to be collected from the remotest parts of the globe—either in ships or on the backs of his camels. There you might see all the rarest and choicest gifts of nature, together with the finest and richest productions of art; the most costly tissues and stuffs, the most valuable vessels and implements of silver and gold; elegant jewellery and trinkets, adorned skilfully with sparkling stones of considerable value, heaped up one on another. But the agreeable manner and contrast in which all these were exposed for sale gratified the eye more than even the costly articles themselves. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at that the crowd in his warehouse, in so great and rich a city, was very numerous.

It had already become a custom for people to apply to Jussuf if they wished to buy anything which had come in fashion with the wealthy citizen, either on account of its intrinsic value or of its skilful workmanship. Could they find the required goods as fine or as beautiful at another magazine, still they always preferred to go to Jussuf, even if they paid him more dearly for them. They felt confident that they should find everything more genuine, more handsome, and more tasteful there than at any other merchant's. This, however, may have been only a favourable prepossession; but it is nevertheless certain, that in no other warehouse were so many objects, alike useful and ornamental, collected together, as in that of Jussuf.

And as his business flourished more and more, so his riches increased from day to day. At the same time his cares and exertions in watching after the number of men whom he employed, his zeal in the equipment of his ships, and in the forwarding and dispatching of his caravans, increased in equal measure.

He had continued his business in this way for several years, and had altogether neglected his health through his perseverance and unflinching attention, when he felt at once that his usual strength was declining, and that he should soon become exhausted unless he permitted himself at times to take some recreation. He therefore very willingly took the opportunity which offered itself accidentally about this time of buying a fine estate. It was situated only a few miles from the town, by the side of a stream, in a country as pleasant as it was fruitful, combining means for hunting and for fishing; and the price was so moderate that he resolved on the purchase without much consideration. He purposed to detach himself for a few weeks from his business, and to devote himself to pleasure and repose in the quiet and calm of his country residence. He caused a new and elegant country house to be built by a skilful architect on an eminence, instead of the old one, surrounded by a large pleasant artificial garden. As all was settled and prepared, he shut up his warehouse at the end of every week early enough for him to ride over. There he would repose from the troubles of the preceding days, and recreate himself with hunting and fishing, and collect new strength in the peaceful serenity of his country estate.

But custom is often stronger than our inclinations: he had become so accustomed to an active life, that his thoughts always returned to his wares in his warehouse, or to his ships that were transporting his goods over distant seas. Hence it happened that he soon entertained a hope of drawing large profits, as well as the restoration of his health, from this country residence. He employed himself very successfully in the chase and in fishing, or in raising choice flowers in the beds before his house, or else with the care of rare foreign birds, which he fed and kept in a large aviary. But these only charmed him for a time: the chase of wild beasts appeared to him too soon to be but a cruel sport; fishing was tedious; the cultivation of his flowers, too, was monotonous; and, if he contemplated the imprisoned foreign birds, he heartily pitied them because they were deprived of freedom. One day he had tried everything to divert himself, but without success; at last he seated himself, half discontented, in the open colonnade which extended along the side of his country house, and his eye glanced over the flower-beds before him into the extreme distance: there his gaze could follow over a small tract the course of the river Schat al Arab, which, rising at the mouths of the Euphrates and Tigris, flows between shores clothed with verdure. Some large merchant ships were sailing by; several fishing-boats were visible.

"Ah, thou magnificent stream!" exclaimed Jussuf, who had given himself to reflection after he had viewed it for some time; "what a pity that thou must fall into the sea so soon below the kingly town of Balsora! There thou art, wasted and forgotten; the navigator on the great sea never thinks that the streams of his native country flow mingled with the waves through which the keel of his ship cuts. Now, then," continued he, after a short reflection, "it is all the better for me: now I am still active in business; my ships set out at morning, noon, and evening; my camels march to India through the deserts of Arabia, and the plains of Tartary and Persia; thousands and thousands of men call me still the rich and great merchant Jussuf, and praise me as the most lucky of mortals; yet a little while, and my existence will be lost as thine, in the sea of eternity."

Among such earnest considerations and soliloquies, he had hardly observed that a large variegated butterfly, hovering over the neighbouring flower-bed, moved slowly to and fro, just as if it were undecided in choosing on which flower it would alight. He was very attentive to its broad wings, which glittered with the most splendid colours, while the insect, brilliantly variegated, settled on a scarlet poppy, as though it wished to eclipse the magnificence of the flower with the variety of its different hues.

"What splendid colours! What beautifully delineated wings!" exclaimed Jussuf. "Oh that I might possess the rare insect! The dyers who stain my silk stuffs, and the weavers, might take the liveliness of the colours, the design, and the well-wrought combination of colours, for a pattern."

When the butterfly settled itself quietly on the poppy, Jussuf approached it carefully to catch it; but, as he had no other convenient thing at his hand, he took off his turban, and covered the butterfly and the flower. The butterfly had not flown away, therefore it must be under the turban. Already he rejoiced at his lucky capture, and was proceeding to raise the turban slowly a little on one side, in order to seize the imprisoned insect securely, when he remarked that the turban was raising itself, and that under it a human form was growing up higher and higher out of the flower. Full of astonishment, he drew back a step. As he kept his eyes fixed on the object, a maiden of astonishing beauty appeared before him, such as he had never before seen. Her face was veiled, and his turban was on her head: smilingly she removed it, and extended it to him, saying, with a mischievous look,

"There, friend Jussuf, take it again: this turban is accustomed to ornament a brain in which rule very earnest and high thoughts; it would, perhaps, feel very badly honoured were it to serve as a covering for my frivolous caprices."

"Thou jestest, high daughter of a genius," exclaimed Jussuf, sinking on his knees: "thy incomparable beauty testifies that thou art no ordinary mortal, if even the wonderful manner in which thou hast appeared had not fixed it beyond all doubt."

"It may be," replied the maiden, "that thou hast rightly guessed. But that is no matter; I am come here to-day to help to banish your idle thoughts: come, run a race with me."

Immediately she threw the poppy which he had covered with his turban roughly in his face, and ran away. Jussuf remained irresolute, and looked after her; then she stopped her pace, and called back to him,

"Art thou transformed into a statue? canst thou not run? run, and catch me, if you can."

Her mischievous manner gave her an irresistible grace, which urged him to begin the race, even although he did not wish to join in it. She flew on, allowing him sometimes to approach her, and then turned suddenly aside out of the way, and ran over the turf to avoid him: she did not even spare the flower-beds; and when she wanted to escape from him, she passed over them without caring for the finest plants. The more she provoked him in different ways, the more he exerted all his strength to catch her. At last she appeared exhausted, and threw herself, breathing heavily, on a bank of turf. "Here is an asylum," exclaimed she.

Tired and breathless with the unusual exertion of running, he followed her example, and sat down near her on the bank. While they were resting, she plucked some flowers and branches of a flourishing shrub, which had spread itself from the bank into a green roof over their heads, and skilfully wove a garland.

"Come," said she to Jussuf, when the wreath was ready, "come, let us throw up the garland."

She arose at these words and led him to the nearest open space; she leaped around, dancing in a circle and holding the garland on high in her right hand, and then threw it up high into the air. The garland of flowers rose while she sang these words:

"Rise, thou garland fresh and fair, Blend thy hues in liquid air: Downward sinking, may'st thou be A fairy coronal for me."

High above the shoots of the surrounding trees it seemed to remain hovering in the sunshine which lighted the colours of the flowers, inducing a very peculiar splendour. Then it sank down gradually in soft vibrations, and settled on her head, as if she had placed it there herself as a crown. She took it from her locks and handed it to Jussuf.

"Now it is thy turn," said she; "throw it up, and see whether it will fall on thy head."

Jussuf took it and threw it as high as he could; but it did not from his hand attain the sunny height, and the garland fell quickly, and at a great distance, to the ground before him. By the time he had altogether recollected himself, she was at the spot, and had already raised the garland, and was laughing heartily at his awkwardness. She threw it up, dancing in the former manner, and sang the spell. This time also the garland ascended high above the tops of the trees into the sunshine, and sank down on her head as at first. Jussuf must needs try again, but he succeeded no better than before. Thereupon she again threw it up, and caught it once more. After she had thus shown him several times, she cried out, laughing mischievously,

"Well, hast thou not yet observed why thou failest? Why dost thou not sing my little song when thou throwest up the garland? Try once more, and sing the spell; then it will succeed better."

Jussuf did so. He threw the garland and sang the verse; and, behold, the garland hovered in the sunshine, and descended in soft vibrations on his head, crowning his turban.

"Dost thou see?" said the maiden, laughingly: "the spell is of very great avail." She threw up the wreath again several times, and then she took it, and exclaimed, "Now it is enough; but the game will be tedious." She threw it up high, and sang:

"Flower-garland, raise thee high, Float in sunshine brilliantly; Lend thy varied hues, to shed Light on the darksome forest-head."

The garland floated far out over the open space towards the edge of the park; there it melted suddenly in the air, and the blossoms rained down as it were on a dark cypress, and clung to it, so that it was adorned at once with a number of splendid flowers. Jussuf saw this with astonishment.

"Well," exclaimed he, "thou conjurest. How is it possible that a cypress-tree should bear such beautiful blossoms?"

But she answered, "What is there to be wondered at? Who would make such a commotion about a merry game? Come," continued she, "let us play at ball." And jumping up, she picked a ripe pomegranate from a neighbouring tree, placed herself at a tolerable distance from him at a shrub, and threw him the apple for a ball. Jussuf had been very fond of playing at ball in his younger days, and still possessed some skill, so that he caught it.

"Well, indeed, well done," exclaimed she, as she caught it from Jussuf, who had not thrown it quite straight, with the same ease as if it had fallen from the hand of the ablest thrower.

They threw it in this way several times to each other, till at last Jussuf let it fall.

"Oh!" cried she, "well done! whoever lets it fall, to him the punishment is due." And when she had caught the pomegranate again, she winked at him, and exclaimed, "Now come back, I will give you a blow on the face." But Jussuf remained where he was, watching for the throw, that he might avoid it. "Come back," she said still; but he remained stationary.

Then she breathed low some words over the pomegranate, and threw it suddenly at Jussuf. He wished to avoid the blow, by bending down quickly; but before he could succeed, he felt it on his forehead. The pomegranate was so violently thrown that it burst in pieces. The numerous grains lay scattered on the ground; but hardly had they touched the earth than they changed into so many wasps, which flew into the air and swarmed round his head. In the anguish of their stings, he held his hands before his eyes and ran on; but the swarm of wasps followed him, buzzing around him.

"Throw now thy turban on the ground," called the maiden at last to him, who was standing in the distance, loudly laughing at his anguish.

He listened, and obeyed her call without thinking of it, and quickly all the wasps crept under the turban. He stood in astonishment, and looked at the turban. Then the maiden approached him with ceaseless laughter, and said,

"What has happened to thee, friend Jussuf? Why dost thou gaze upon thy turban with such anxious attention? It is a pity they are not bees, the honey might be collected there. Take it up and put it on thy head."

He stooped down and raised it with cautious slowness; but, to his astonishment, all the wasps had disappeared; only a green lizard ran to and fro, and was lost among the grass and the leaves near the pathway.

"Where did that go?" asked Jussuf, reflectingly. "That was a pomegranate and became wasps, and where are they now gone?"

"What!" rejoined the maiden; "where did it go? Who would ask such a thing? How are wasps and pomegranates generally produced in this world? Or can you tell me how it is that grass comes up and grows out of a grain of seed? or how is it that a fig-tree can spring up from each little seed of the fig? The case is just so; and if people would ask questions about everything, there would be no end to such inquiries. But man must not inquire too closely. Come," continued she, quickly changing to a quieter and more mischievous manner, "Dost thou see those figs hanging on the branch over the way? let us see if you can jump high enough to reach and pick them."

He saw the figs, and sprang, but did not nearly reach the height at which they hung. She encouraged him to jump again and again, and at every awkward spring she laughed at his fruitless exertions. She then took a short run with little steps, and, floating as easily in the air as if she were borne on wings, plucked the figs, and then was wafted down as softly on the other side.

"See," said she to him, holding out the figs, "here they are; now we will eat them together. We have earned them with one spring."

Jussuf declined them. "They all belong to thee," said he; "for thou alone didst pick them. I could not reach."

"Do you wish to make me angry?" said she. "Hast thou not tired thyself more than I?—there, take and eat." She forced him, by her friendly manner, to eat half the figs; while she pressed the other to her lips, sucked a little of its juice, and then threw it away. "I did that," said she, clapping her hands, "that thou mightest not soon forget me: now thou must think of me for some time."

Immediately she began a new game with him, and after a short time another, and so on, continually changing the sport. The serious Jussuf jumped, and hopped, and danced just as she wished, and tried to perform all the tricks she invented, as if he were a boy. At last they came to a fish-pond which was in the garden. She jumped into the boat, which was standing all ready, and rowed with ease into the middle of the little lake. Then she stopped and called to him,

"Come here, my true playfellow, come to me."

Jussuf stood on the bank, and would have willingly walked to her through the water; but he knew that it was too deep, and he could not swim.

"Art thou not coming?" said she; "art thou afraid of the water?"

"I cannot swim," answered he.

"Well, that is no consequence," she called out; "do as I do." And at these words she sprang lightly out of the boat, and walked over the surface of the waves as if on dry land; the water did not even moisten the sole of her sandal.

"Oh that I could!" exclaimed Jussuf. "But I am too heavy; I should sink at once."

The maiden had in the meantime sprung back into the boat, and called out, "If thou wilt not come to me, I will never come again to thee; nor will I now stay any longer with thee. Evening is drawing near. For the future, then, thou mayest sit alone and grow ill tempered; and if thou ever wishest to see thy playmate again, thou mayest seek her in the native country of the variegated butterfly, which thou believedst thou hadst caught to-day, but which has flown away. Recollect, and come before I have counted three. One—two—three." As she said the last number she disappeared.

Jussuf now saw the variegated butterfly flutter over the lake, and lose itself among the flowers of the garden; the boat moved back towards the bank where it had before been placed. The abandoned Jussuf stood for some time, as if in a dream; but when the evening twilight veiled the distant hills, he awoke to consciousness. Then the occurrences of the day appeared like a wonderful vision to his soul. In the silence of his chamber he soon threw himself on his bed, and here everything recurred to his memory; and he now wondered less at the wonderful appearance of the maiden than at himself—that he, a serious man, who till now had lived in the activity and cares of business, should have amused himself for several hours with childish games, at which he had not before played since his earliest boyish days. Gradually his thoughts passed into dreams.

He awoke late the next morning. The sun was already high in the heavens, and his slaves had long been waiting at the threshold of the door which led to his room, to receive his commands. He remembered that he wished to return early in the morning to the town, because it was his custom regularly to keep open his warehouse on this day of the week. It proved, therefore, very agreeable to him, when he went out, to find his horse was standing ready saddled before the house.

After he had dressed quickly, and taken his breakfast, he mounted his splendid Arab steed, and rode towards Balsora, followed by several slaves. When he arrived at the bazaar to open his warehouse, a number of customers were already assembled, and the crowd increased at every moment, so that he could hardly satisfy all—he had not hands enough. When all was produced that was wished for, time was wanting to give the inquirers the needful information about the worth and quality of the goods; and if a purchaser wished to pay for his articles, he had no time to count over the money, but he placed it uncounted in his money-box, trusting to the honour of his customers. This press of business so fully occupied his attention, that he soon forgot his last night's adventure, though at first the form of his fair playmate was present to his soul. So many days passed away in the bustle of his vast employment.

One day, about the end of the week, when he was busy in his warehouse, the public crier went by, offering for sale some small foreign insects and butterflies; and holding the case in which they were in the air, "Who will buy," he exclaimed—"who will buy fine bright silken creatures, very cheap, very cheap?" Jussuf raised his eyes by chance, while conversing with a customer about a necklace of jewels, and perceived in the case the beautiful butterfly which he wanted to catch himself a few days before, and out of which his comical playmate had raised herself from the poppy.

Then his words died on his lips. He looked at the crier, dumb for a minute, and then called him back quickly. "Let me see," said he; and when he had convinced himself that he was not mistaken, he offered the man at once a thousand sequins, without allowing him to ask anything.

The crier gave him the case quickly, as if he feared that Jussuf would repent of his purchase, and smilingly received the purse of gold.

"I thank thee," said he. "It is well that I know thee to be an amateur in such things. If I get any more, I will certainly bring them to thee first. People say, indeed, that thou dost not sell cheaply. I have convinced myself thou also payest well for what thou purchasest." Overjoyed, and praising his good fortune, he went away.

Jussuf had scarcely received the case of insects, when he carefully examined it in a division of his warehouse, whilst a red blush mantled over his face, and his looks betokened the greatest pleasure. The bystanders could not believe that he was such a lover of insects, and such a connoisseur; and they conjectured that his eyes must have discovered some extraordinary value in the purchased case. But from this moment Jussuf paid little more attention to his business. This absence of mind increased every moment, and often caused him to ask quite a trifling sum for very precious goods, and an unconscionably high one for those equally insignificant. He could scarcely conceal his chagrin whenever new customers made their appearance; and all saw with wonder, how—contrary to his usual custom—he hailed with joy the time for closing his warehouse, and how joyously he departed with his case of insects!

Immediately he wrapped the case in a cloth, and had it carried by some slaves who accompanied him to his house. Till now he did not know why he had so much value for the butterfly; he was only led to purchase it by some impulse, and had not as yet given himself any reasons for it. For the first time, as he lay quietly in bed, he asked himself this question: "What shall I do with thee?" Then—"The other butterfly flew away over the flowers of my garden some days ago; this is dry and pierced, as if it had been dead for many years. What connection can it have with my bright and waggish playmate, who is only fit to be a daughter of the genii?"

He recalled to himself everything in the remarkable occurrence—even the most trifling events that happened in their different games, from the appearance of the maiden to her disappearance out of the boat, returned to his mind. Then he thought over her last words. "What did she say?" said he to himself. "Did she not say, 'If thou shouldst wish to see me, thou must seek me in the fatherland of the variegated butterflies?'"

Now a thought shot through his mind which made all perfectly clear to him. He confessed to himself that he had been more happy with her fun and play than he had been before since his boyhood, and that he had then quite forgotten all the cares and troubles of business. He earnestly longed to have always about him so merry a playfellow, to afford him diversion with her childish mirth.

"This playmate of thine," continued he, speaking to himself, "if she has entirely disappeared, and no track leads to her, has not a chance fallen into thy hands by this butterfly? Still thou canst seek for her in her native land. But what naturalist could name it from this imperfect description, without having seen the butterfly?"

He then recalled to his memory many tales which he had heard in his childhood, in which were instances of daughters of genii, who, becoming the wives of mortals, blessed them in a wonderful manner, and, after the death of their husbands, returned to the kingdom of the genii.

Amid such thoughts as these he sank into slumber, and awoke the next morning with the firm resolution of seeking the daughter of the genii, and of choosing her for his wife. The first thing, then, was for him to discover the native country of the butterflies; for it was there that he was to find her. He took, therefore, the butterfly out of the case from among the other insects, and set out for one of the suburbs of Balsora.

There lived in one of the last houses a man who he was aware knew not only the name of every beast, stone, and plant, but also the hidden strength of nature and her mysterious operations. This man had once been his master, and to his instruction Jussuf owed his intimate knowledge of the manifold productions of nature out of which the various goods were manufactured in different lands, and which afforded him the means of always purchasing the best and most superior articles, whereby he obtained such a crowd of customers. In order to show his gratitude to his master for this instruction, he had given him, out of the inheritance of his father, this large house, with the surrounding vast garden, that he might live undisturbed in his secret studies.

With this man he now took refuge, hoping certainly to receive from him some information about the native land of his silken butterfly. Upon his knocking at the door, an old servant, the only one in the house, opened it, and led him into a chamber in which his old master was sitting upon a cushion, before a large table covered with a black cloth. Rolls of parchment with unknown characters, compasses, a sextant, a triangle, and other instruments, lay scattered round in disorder. He received Jussuf with friendly nods, without rising from his cushion, motioning him to sit down opposite, and then said,

"Ah, ah! my Jussuf; this is a rare visit. Hast thou at last been able to spare an hour from thy business to pay a visit to the old Modibjah? I hear that thou art become the most popular merchant in all Balsora, and that thou hast immense connections. I am glad of it; then all is right and prosperous. What one has once chosen for his calling, for that one must entirely live. What we do must be done well; and may that one live who devotes his life to a useful activity!"

Jussuf was prevented by a certain shyness from mentioning his wish at once to his grave master. He said how he had longed to see him once more, to hear how he was; and reproached him tenderly for not coming to see him. He added that he had certainly a great many curious things in his warehouses, and that he had promised himself the pleasure of showing them all to his wise master. Perhaps he might find among them something that might be useful to him, and it would be a pleasure to him to give it to him.

At these words Modibjah laughed, and answered, "I want none of thy goods. What I wanted thou hast given me: while thou continuest to me this house and garden as my property, I am contented, so that I remain undisturbed. Here I can devote myself to my reflections and my pursuits undistracted and unobserved by the curiosity of mankind. Then I should have erred in visiting thee; for thy time is equally taken up with the cares and business of thy profession; and I should but have disturbed thee with my visits. But now speak," said he, ending his discourse: "I see from thy looks that a particular request brings thee to me."

Jussuf blushed that his master should have so seen through him, and then related to him how the numerous cares and exertions of his business had produced a prejudicial effect on his health, and how he had been obliged to seek diversion; that he had then renewed a partiality which he had in his boyish years, and had again begun to collect butterflies and other insects. "But," continued he, "the necessary knowledge is wanting to me. Some days ago I bought by chance a collection of butterflies, of whose names and native country I know nothing." He drew out the box at these words, and held it open before the old man.

But hardly had he glanced at it when he shook his head silently; and, considering, at last he said, "Poor Jussuf! Still thou wishest to inquire about it as of secondary import, as if I did not know that thou only comest to me for this reason. Art thou gone so far as to play the hypocrite with thy old master?"

"Well, then, I am curious to learn the name and the country of this butterfly," answered Jussuf, with a trembling voice.

Then the grey haired old man raised himself from his cushion, and looked at Jussuf with such a searching and piercing glance, that he was constrained through his shame to cast down his eyes.

"Still, I should do thee injustice were I to blame thee," continued he: "I know that thou art still innocent. I can only lament that thou shouldst have fallen into the snares of my implacable enemy. In order to obtain the victory over me, she will seek to ruin thee." He laid his hand on his forehead, and sank into profound reflection.

At last Jussuf broke silence, and said, "I do not understand thee. What enemy dost thou mean? See, it is my fault for not having told thee the whole openly. Now shalt thou know all." He then related to him, without any reserve, the transactions of the previous days.

When he had finished, the old man answered, "Now thou hast been candid with me, and hast a claim to equal sincerity on my side. But I know that thou art not now capable of hearing the truth—that it is a useless trouble to attempt to cure thee of thy delusion. If I were to conceal the native land of the butterflies from thee, I know that thou wouldst find ways and means of learning what thou now desirest to discover. Thou wouldst fain find her who is thy enemy, although thou deemest her to be thine innocent friend. I will show thee the way to her. But I will think of ways and means to guard thee against her wickedness. For that purpose I must know thy exact age. If thou hast not quite forgotten thy former love for thy true master, tell me now the day and hour of thy birth."

Jussuf willingly told him the day and the hour, for he was very glad that Modibjah promised to tell him the native country of the butterfly. What he said about the wickedness of an enemy he took for the whims of an old man, and therefore it did not weigh at all with him. In the meanwhile, Modibjah had gone into a side-chamber, and now brought out a large, deep box, whilst he cleared away the parchments and instruments spread about on the table. On the cover a great number of cross lines were drawn through one another, and among them were worked innumerable gold and silver stars. After he had carefully traced all these, he produced a small box of ebony, skilfully inlaid with streaks of mother-of-pearl.

"I have reckoned thine age," said he: "thou art now just thirty years, nine months, and seven days, and eight hours old. All these years, months, days, and hours form the figure of fifty-four. God be praised and His great Prophet, it is not yet of the worst."

During this speech he sat down, and at a nod from him Jussuf seated himself opposite. Then he pressed a hidden spring in the little black box, the lid sprang up, and he shook the contents before Jussuf on the table. They were a number of half-moons, little stars, triangles, and other figures of ivory.

"Count out fifty-four of them," said he. And Jussuf did it.

After the old man had quickly collected the remainder together, and placed them again in the box, he called to him to throw the figures that he had counted out in the air in such a manner that they should fall down on the table-cloth. Jussuf did as he was desired, and the figures spread themselves in their fall over the whole table. The old man considered them attentively for some time, and began to murmur, half-singing, a form of words in a foreign language, and touched with his finger quickly, as if he were counting one or other of them, now and then taking away one and placing it with the others in the box. He repeated his words twice, and counted and pointed with his finger, taking away from the figures as at first, till at last there only remained nine. Now he began another speech, which appeared to Jussuf to be in a different language, and sang it three times, while he took away more of the ivory figures, and pointed to some of the gold and silver worked stars. At last he had collected all the three nearest constellations.

"It is good," said the old man, with a joyful and tranquil countenance. "I now know what I wanted; now I can tell you what you so earnestly wish to know. If thou wishest to find thy vain, trifling playmate, go towards the rising of the sun till thou comest to a town of Persia, in the neighbourhood of which are situated the ruins of an old royal city, now destroyed. There stay till the third day after the new moon. Then go to the ruins in the evening. On the eastern edge, at some distance from the heap of relics, thou wilt find a large well-formed stone, which once served as the head; seat thyself on this stone, and at the moment when the narrow illumined streak of the moon, like a fiery ship, seems to swim over the mountains on the horizon, call out the word 'Haschanascha,' and a sign-post will soon appear. But then thou art still distant from the object of thy journey. But may the exertions and vicissitudes of thy long travel so lessen thy foolishly-ardent desire that thou mayest listen to the voice of a prudent friend, who will certainly be near thee when thou hast need of him."

Hardly had Jussuf heard where he was to go when he sprang out of his seat, in order to take leave at once of Modibjah, and to commence his journey. The wish which Modibjah had expressed was hardly heard by him.

"Wait, wait," said the former; "who knows whether we shall ever see each other again? This journey leads thee far away, and I am old. Thou art also a mortal, who mayest be overwhelmed by the dangers thou hast to encounter. Here, take this as a token of remembrance." At these words he reached him a small leathern pouch.

"What is this?" asked Jussuf, after he had opened it, and saw in it a rather opaque milk-white stone, at the bottom of which a red spark seemed to shine. "That is certainly a talisman."

"It is a talisman," answered Modibjah: "esteem it for my sake. Use it when thy strength and intellect are not sufficient for thee. As long as thou perceivest the spark, thou wilt proceed in the right way, and wilt not encounter any danger; but the contrary will happen when the spark appears to be quite extinguished. Then breathe over it the name 'Haschanascha.' Do not allow it to be taken away from thee, either by force or by stratagem; nor give it willingly as a present to any stranger's hand. If thou shouldst wish to make an experiment, throw it behind thee over thy head."

Jussuf thanked his master for the present, and hid the talisman in his bosom; he then took leave of his master in an absent spirit and hastened home. He immediately gave his slaves the necessary charges, committed the care of his house to an old faithful servant, locked up his warehouse in the bazaar, and proceeded in the evening of the same day, with a train of twenty armed and well-mounted followers, and with forty camels loaded with gold and precious things of all kinds, and with all necessaries, out at the eastern gate of the city of Balsora. Whoever perceived or heard, that Jussuf had set out on a distant journey believed that he had gone to fetch some rare goods which he could not entrust to his servants; and people were generally in curious expectation to see what could be the interest in any jewels that should induce the so greatly-altered merchant, who till now let everything be managed by his servants, to go himself on the journey, and with so small an escort.

Jussuf kept exactly to the rule of his old master, and proceeded straight towards the rising of the sun. He reached, with his little caravan, without any particular adventures, the plains which extend between the mountains and the Persian Sea. But here the summer heat was so oppressive that he turned more to the left towards the north, that he might find in the neighbourhood of the mountains some shade from the trees and, above all, springs of water, which, murmuring down from the mountains, might serve for coolness and refreshment to them, after they had wandered far in the plains through dry sand. He proceeded for some days towards his destination without the occurrence of anything unusual or remarkable. After some days, he reached a spot where a small rivulet flowed between two mountains.

The opposite side of this mountain extended out a long way towards the sea-coast, so that there was only a very narrow slip of the plain. Uncertain whether he should go straight towards the sea, or turn off to the left along the valley through which the rivulet wound, he ordered his slaves to stop. He looked round to see if he could not perceive in the surrounding country some track to indicate the proximity of men, of whose advice he might avail himself; but there was not a hut, nor a tent, nor a flock to be seen far or near. Although fertile, the country appeared quite desolate. Some of his slaves advised the direction along the sea-shore, because there were imprinted the footsteps of camels and horses of earlier travellers; others suggested, on the contrary, to advance along the river. But Jussuf shook his head at these counsels.

"Why should we," said he, "enter in uncertainty on either of those roads? If we proceed to the right by the sea-coast, it will lead us too far south; if we follow the valley of the river, it will conduct us straight to its entrance towards the north; but farther up it may take another direction, whereby we might be enabled to continue our route, even if it be a very winding way; or we may ascend the mountains, which will probably be higher and steeper near the source of the river. Our camels already throw a long shadow on the earth, and in two hours we must select a place for repose. It is therefore more prudent to stay here. Two roads evidently unite at this point, and therefore it cannot be long before some one arrives from one side or the other, who can give us the desired information. So make preparations to pass the night here."

As he commanded, so they did. The slaves unpacked from the camels what was necessary, and quickly erected a tent for their master of variegated painted poles and thick silk stuffs. Then they kindled a fire on a neighbouring spot, and made preparations for the meals of all.

In the meantime, Jussuf wandered to the foremost height of the mountains, towards the valley of the river, and rejoiced at the richly blossoming flowers which seemed heaped on all the shrubs, and at the magnificent country, and the refreshing air which floated up to him out of the valley. As he walked carelessly along, his foot struck against a ripe melon, which still hung fast to a withered branch. "Well," thought he to himself, "a juicy melon is a refreshing fruit in the heat of the day." He picked it and took it home to the encampment. There he delivered it to a slave, and charged him to take care that it was freed of its seeds, and brought up to his meal with the other dishes. He then entered his tent, which had meanwhile been erected, and stretched himself on his soft cushion, covered with costly cloths, that he might rest awhile. He soon sank into slumber, exhausted with the fatigue of the day; but he was shortly roused from his dream. Two of his slaves stood at his couch, and exclaimed,

"Master! master! come out and see the wonder!"

"What is the matter?" said he, raising himself up.

"O master, the melon!" they called out at once.

"Well, what of the melon? Perhaps it is beginning to decay, or is it not good for anything? if so, throw it away. Was it worth while to wake me up about that?"

"Oh, no, master, do not be angry; but that is not it," said the slaves.

"Perhaps one of you has eaten it, not knowing that I picked it for myself?"

"No, master! no, master!" cried the slaves, as it were with one mouth. "Who would do that? Come and see yourself."

"I see I must come myself if I wish to learn what has happened," said Jussuf, half unwillingly; and rising from his couch, he followed them out of the tent. They led him to the place where they had made preparations for the meal. There he saw a melon, in form like the one which he had found, but of such a gigantic size, that he had never before seen one like it. "Whence, then, comes this monster of a melon?" said he to the slaves, who were standing at a distance with signs of astonishment and fear.

"Yes, master, that is the same melon that you brought here yourself," answered several voices at once.

"But that was so small, that I could conveniently span it with my fingers, and carry it in my hand," returned he; "but three men could scarcely surround this with their arms." They assured him that it was the same melon which he had bought. "Then," continued he, "things cannot go right if a ripe and gathered melon can grow to such a monstrous size."

At these words, the slave to whom he had given the melon came to him and said, "It may well be that things do not go right." He then related to him that he had laid the melon down where the large one now lay; that when he had come near it, at a later period, a great wasp had settled on the melon and pierced it with its sting. Hardly had it flown away, when a bee came buzzing, and lodged on it: after stinging it, this one also flew away. From this moment the melon grew larger and larger; and they should have called him to see the wonder long ago, had not they all been fixed with curiosity and astonishment to see what would happen.

Since the rising of the moon, which was how beaming above the horizon in full splendour, had the melon ceased increasing. They asked Jussuf what should now happen, and imagined that he would not ask them to cut up and pare the melon.

"That we cannot do," said they, finishing their speech, "for it is evident that magic is at play here. An ordinary melon cannot grow any more after it is ripe and picked off the tree; and even if that were possible, it could not in any case grow to such an immense size as never has been seen before in the world. Who knows what is hidden in it?"

"Oh, you silly cowards!" exclaimed Jussuf, provoked at the terror of his servants,—"shame on you! You are in a foreign land, and do not consider that everything here is not exactly as it is at home. What can be concealed in it? Outside is the peel; under the peel is the pulp; and in the middle is the texture of cells, with the seeds. Look here," said he to those who stood next to him, as he took off his short broad scimitar: "I will cut off a piece, that you may see that it is as I say."

While he spoke, he made two vigorous cuts—one along and the other across the melon, so as to loosen a four-angled piece of the peel. Now he commanded one of his slaves to lift up the piece.

As the slave anxiously approached the melon, in order to obey the command of his master, the piece sprang out of it with wonderful strength over his head, so that he tumbled backwards on the ground from terror.

"Mahomet, great Prophet, stand by us!" exclaimed the slaves, when they saw this. But soon their astonishment changed to terror, and they all ran away, when suddenly a human figure rose out of the aperture in the melon, and, with one spring, stood before Jussuf. The latter drew back, startled as much at the sudden and unexpected appearance of the man as at his unusual figure. The top of his perfectly flat face was disfigured by two monstrous eyes, and by long black eyebrows, which extended over the greatest part of his face. On his short upper lip he had a narrow but long, hairy, stiff substance, the ends of which reached to the crown of his head, and there intermixed with his hair in two tufts, which stood sideways in the air like antennae. His dress was marked with bright shining stripes of a black and brimstone colour; and behind him a transparent head-covering hung in two gauze-like wings nearly down to the ground. His clothes fitted tight everywhere. He also wore a girdle round his body, which rendered his leanness still more striking. Besides this, the nail of his middle finger was very long, and bent over like a hoe. His whole figure had the appearance of an immense wasp.

The man had hardly observed that Jussuf shrank before him, when he seized the wings of his head-dress with both his hard hands, and gave a leap, as if he were trying to fly.

Jussuf was too frightened to ask him who he was, and what he wanted. But the man immediately uttered a guttural, grumbling sound, which was probably intended for a song; and Jussuf heard these words:

"I come, a slave at one's behest, Who knoweth more than thou canst tell; She warned thee, whiles of friends the best, Of bees that lurk in honied bell. Guide well thy course; nor seek, proud man, Whate'er thou deem'st a better way; She can each hidden secret scan— So follow thou without delay."

When his song was nearly ended, another voice hummed on the side where the melon lay. On looking there, Jussuf saw a second human form, as wonderful as the first, rise out of the aperture. This one had a dark dress, inclining to olive-green, and his form was rather less slim than that of the former; but he had the appearance of a bee in human form. Leaping also nearer to Jussuf, it sang in a higher but equally buzzing tone:

"Mark me well: oh, what can be Direful wasps but plagues to thee? Thine is every vain desire; Yet the bees that never tire, They can serve and tend thee well— The busy storers of the cell. Keep me, then; thy path shall prove A path of hope that leads to love."

But the first one grumbled again, so that Jussuf could not understand any more.

However terrified Jussuf might have been at this appearance, he yet collected himself, and said, "Her dear servants seem to mean very well, but——"

Before he had finished his speech, both of them were grumbling and buzzing at him.

He understood still so much, that each of them wished to lessen the reputation of his fellow, and to make him suspected in his eyes. Both turned against each other again, and hummed and buzzed at one another with unheard-of obstinacy. Their struggle became constantly more vehement, and at last they seized each other in mad rage, and whirled round, struggling and burring in a circle. Jussuf saw a kind of lance and a long dagger shine, and both of them fell down pierced through at his feet. In their dying moments they begged him to bury them in their cradle. He nodded assuringly, and they lay dead in the moment. Immediately Jussuf called his slaves to him, who were standing in the distance in earnest expectation, and ordered them to carry the dead bodies to the melon. But they refused, certainly with humble excuses, but still with steadfast decision.

"In the name of all natural things," said they, "we will prove to thee our certain obedience; but do not ask us to make ourselves unclean, or to meddle with such unnatural appearances."

He represented to them quietly that he could not place both the dead bodies in the hollow melon, and that one of them must help him—that what he ventured they might also venture; but they denied perseveringly, and no one appeared ready to lend a helping hand. Angry at their obstinacy, Jussuf was on the point of chastising them with the flat part of his sabre-blade, when one of the slaves called out,

"Hold, hold, dear master! the dead bodies are no longer there!"

They had certainly vanished; and when he looked on the ground where they had lain, he discovered in the dust a dead wasp and a dead bee.

"See, see!" said he, in perfect astonishment; "would not any one believe that all those things were only a delusion of the mind? If the great melon did not lie there now, I should be inclined to think that I had, in a mad fancy, taken the bees and wasps for large figures of men."

At these words, he turned to the side where the melon had been, and, lo! that had also disappeared. Approaching nearer, he found in its place the little melon again, just as he had picked it during his walk. In its side he discovered a small four-angled opening. Then he went quickly back, fetched the two dead insects, and put them through the aperture into the melon.

"It may now be as it may," said he to himself. "I promised them to bury their dead bodies in the melon, and I fulfil this promise."

"Now, you will not wish to eat any of this enchanted melon?" inquired one of the slaves; and as Jussuf shook his head in the negative, and at once entered his tent, the slave gave the melon a kick with his foot, so that it rolled all the way down the hill, and fell below into the river that flowed there. The waves swept over it.

The night passed tranquilly. At first, Jussuf could not get any sleep, for the events of wonder had so stirred up his soul. At last fatigue conquered, and he slumbered till near morning.

In the commencement of his journey he had made an arrangement that four of his slaves should watch every night alternately. In the morning he asked with uncommon curiosity whether nothing had happened in the night, or whether no traveller had passed by from whom they might learn the direction. But no one had gone by.

Low-spirited at not having any sure direction for his journey, he struck his bosom, and said, "So are we borne away and removed from good fortune." He had with the blow hit the pouch containing the talisman which he had received from his master Modibjah, and which till now he had quite forgotten. He pulled it out, opened the pouch, and said, "Thou hast disclosed thyself in a good hour. Come, tell me whether I shall do well if I proceed through the valley along the river-side."

After he had considered it, he exclaimed joyfully, "Yes, yes; the resolution is good; the fiery spark still shines living in the stone." He immediately gave orders for departure, and the procession, rode out into the valley. His slaves wondered that he who had been so uncertain about the direction should now be so secure, and take so confident a resolution. The journey was much more pleasant in the valley than it had before been. The air from the stream was cooled, for a mild breeze was always breathing through the valley; and they soon reached an inhabited place, and learned that they were in the direct road to a small town, in whose neighbourhood were situated the ruins of the old royal city. Pleased as Jussuf was at this news, still it was rather disagreeable, to him: he remembered that on the evening of his adventure with the melon the moon was in full splendour, and he could now calculate that he would arrive several days too early for the first object of his journey. And what should he set about in that small town till, on the third day after the new moon, he should find his sign-post? However, he continued on his way by small day journeys. At last he came to the little town in whose neighbourhood the ruins were situated, and stopped at a caravanserai. Whilst his people unloaded the camels and settled everything, he wandered idly through the town to see something of it. In the course of his walk a young man presented himself to him, who was willing to show him in passing the few curiosities of the place. While they were conversing together they made themselves known to each other; and Jussuf learned that the young man's name was Hassan Assad, a man of whom his people had often spoken to him in terms of commendation, and who had been very useful to him several times in commissions for goods in Persia. He heartily thanked him, therefore, and assured him of his pleasure at being able to form his personal acquaintance. Hassan also seemed very much pleased to have seen the far-famed merchant from Balsora face to face, and offered to be his guide and companion as long as he remained in those parts.

"To-morrow," said he, "I have some necessary business to do in Shiraz, which I cannot put off. But without doubt thou also art going there, for thou wilt certainly have to give large orders to the ablest silver and gold workers, and to the most skilful silk-weavers; and because personal acquaintance with our correspondents is very useful, I will join thee in thy journey. In this way it will not be necessary for us to separate again on the first day of our acquaintance; nor can it be disagreeable to thee to go with me, who am already known there, and can lead thee to the dwellings of all those with whom I am connected in commerce."

Jussuf's mind had been but little turned on trade, and now he could not recollect the names of all the people with whom he transacted business in Shiraz: besides, he had a certain aversion to disclose the true reasons for his journey; so he let his friendly companion entertain the idea that he had come to Persia for the purpose of purchasing and giving commissions. And, because he must still wait several days for the new moon, he willingly accepted Hassan's proposal, and promised to accompany him the next morning to the great and celebrated town of Shiraz, and to spend some days with him there. The distance to Shiraz was not far, and Jussuf reached it with his new friend the next day before the noonday heat. Hassan conducted him in the afternoon to the house of a rich merchant, with whom he had long had considerable dealings.

"Here," said he, "I bring you the far-famed merchant Jussuf from Balsora, whose name cannot be strange to you, since you have long done business with him. He has taken this journey to make new purchases, and also to become personally acquainted with those who have hitherto served him so satisfactorily."

The dealer was very glad to become acquainted with the renowned Jussuf, and, as what Hassan had said appeared very natural to him, he continued, "If I do not mistake, I furnished thee lately with a considerable quantity of oil of roses. Thou wert, then, pleased with it?"

Jussuf assured him of his perfect satisfaction with the supply.

"Ah," continued the dealer, "thou must now again give me a commission; for I have at present a much better supply, and I can let thee have it at a very moderate price, although it is of a superior quality."

Jussuf was ashamed to confess that he had entirely neglected his magazine and warehouse, and could not think of his business. He therefore left him in his error, and gave him a considerable order for oil of roses. But, as he thought of travelling farther, and the time of his return was not decided, he ordered him to wait for further instructions for sending the oil. Still, he paid the amount beforehand. In this manner he went to all his friends in trade in Shiraz. Hassan conducted him, announcing that his appearance in Persia was to give orders; and so he was seduced into fresh commissions and fresh purchases. At the silk-weavers' he ordered many hundred pieces of silk stuffs; at others, a quantity of gold and silver stuffs; at the jewellers' costly trinkets, and gold and silver vessels, and implements. His companion not only led him to such dealers and workers as he was already acquainted with in business, but introduced him to many others. They induced him, partly by the beauty of their goods, partly by their moderate prices, to make extensive purchases, and to take himself large orders for goods which he promised to send them from Balsora. It could not fail that a merchant of such fame as Jussuf, who gave so many orders in the same town, should attract attention. They sought after him with a friendly spirit in every place; they asked him to all the feasts which were given in those days in the families where he was known. Now he was to appear at a banquet in the town; then at a rural feast in one of the largest and most splendid gardens in the suburbs. People exerted themselves on all sides to show him honour and to give him pleasure.

The new moon had arrived in the meantime, and Jussuf had still so many invitations that he would have been obliged to remain till after the full moon to fulfil them all. But the third evening after the new moon had been named to him as the decisive moment, and he would not neglect it. Hassan persuaded him strongly to stay a few more days, and those who had invited him pressed him very much; but he continued steadfast against longer delay, and he set out early on the third day after the new moon for the little town where he had left his slaves and camels.

On arriving there, he found everything in order. He rested till evening, and then went out, without any companions, to the ruins of the destroyed town. Before sunset he was on the eastern side of them, and had soon also found, at some distance, the marked-out stone. He seated himself on it; and the sun had hardly gone down when he observed the moon riding like a golden ship through the blue of the obscure sky. He waited with palpitating heart and anxious impatience for the moment when it should seem to stand on the mountain-ridges on the western horizon. Then he called out quickly and loudly, "Haschanascha!" He expected that at this call a guide would immediately appear to him; but nothing appeared. The moon was, in the meantime, sunk behind the mountains; but the bright and sparkling stars still lighted the dark blue sky. He stood by the stone on which he had hitherto sat, and was going to return to his people in the town, discouraged at his deluded expectations, when he heard his name called by a well-known voice. He turned towards the place from whence it came, and soon recognized, in the light of the stars, his friend Hassan, whom he thought he had left that morning in Shiraz.

"Well, well," said he, as he drew nearer to Jussuf, "it seemed to me that thou stopped behind the mountains. Whenever I wished to speak with thee of thy journey, thou always soughtest to evade me, and turned the conversation some other way. Now all is clear to me: with me thou needest not have made any mystery of it; since I find thee here to-day, the third day after the new moon, I already know everything. I regret very much that I must serve thee in this case, for I have already conducted many on this road, and none of them have ever come back."

"How, Hassan Assad, thou the guide that I was to find here?" exclaimed Jussuf. "Thou wilt lead me to the object of my desires?"

"No," answered Hassan, "I cannot myself conduct thee: I can only bring thee on the right road; but come, now, and follow me."

He led him back near the extensive ruins of the destroyed city: they soon found tolerably passable roads, the few unobstructed tracks of the former principal streets of the large royal city; but they were often obliged to scramble over the rubbish of overthrown buildings, across pillars, and the remains of mighty columns. His guide turned now right, now left, to seek the easiest road; then backwards, then forwards. They might, perhaps, have spent an hour scrambling about in this manner, when at last Hassan arrived at a passage, closed with a small iron door, which was not covered with ruins: here he took a little silver hammer, and knocked nine times on the head of a great nail which was in the door: at each knock he stopped for some seconds, and Jussuf heard the sound in singular tones inside the door, as if it reached to a great distance. At the last stroke the door flew open, and showed a row of steps leading down to a cellar-like vault.

"Here we must descend," said Hassan; "here thou wilt see many wonderful things, and thou wilt have rich presents; but take care not to refuse any presents, or to speak a word: only when thou art asked if thou hast enough, always answer no, till they abuse thee as an unreasonable person, and ask thee what thou still desirest, then say the word 'Ketlafgat,'—it is the name of a talisman, without which thou canst never attain the end of thy wishes."

Jussuf observed the word, and promised to obey his instructor. They now descended the steps together; and the door closed behind them with a great noise. As they proceeded in profound darkness, Jussuf thought of the talisman which he had received from Modibjah: he wished to see if he were walking in the right road, and drew it out of the pouch: although it was very dark, he still discerned the bright red spark in the stone. He now descended after his guide with more courage. They might have left about fifty steps behind when they arrived at a large room: over this was raised a vast round vault from the ground, in the form of a regular hemisphere. From the middle of the vault hung a great lamp, on which, out of twelve branches, burned twelve long dazzling white flames. The whole vault played with thousands of lights of this flame, as if it were faced with an innumerable number of small mirrors. As Jussuf moved to one side, curious to see the cause of this reflection, he perceived that the vault was covered with eight large oriental pearls of the greatest clearness, and that the space between four of them was filled up with a smaller. He tried to detach one of the large pearls from the wall; but it was so fast cemented that it was impossible to remove it. In the meantime his guide had reached a concealed door, and had knocked three times with his little hammer on one spot. The door sprang open, and they entered a spacious four-cornered room, on the walls of which were very large friezes, supported too by pillars of solid gold. But each of the panels of the flat part of the wall stood on a transparent gay green smooth-polished stone, which Jussuf could only consider to be most valuable emeralds—however improbable it seemed. Hassan allowed him no time to look about him: he had already opened a third room with the strokes of his silver hammer. The form of this was octagonal: the pillars and sockets were of silver; but the panels rested on a precious stone of a bright blue colour.

In the same manner they reached a more splendid and larger room. They had already passed through twelve without having found any living creature. Thus, with all this splendour, there was an unpleasant air of desertion, which oppressed Jussuf so much that he would willingly have imparted his feeling to his companion; but he strode on with such seriousness and caution, in his passage through the opened doors and rooms, that he had not courage to say a word aloud. After they had passed through the twelfth chamber, Hassan knocked three times with his hammer on the ground, which consisted of clear large and small quadrangles of the most magnificent polished stripes of jasper. Immediately one of these quadrangles opened and fell back, as if it were a trap-door: here were disclosed many steps of beautiful crystal, which led down still deeper. They descended, and the trap-door shut down behind them. Jussuf saw no lamp by which the long descent of steps was lighted, nor any window through which the light of day could enter; but still it was not dark around them, for at each footstep shone a clear blue light. He observed that this proceeded from a small ball which rolled down before him from step to step, and, every time that it alighted on a step, a clear blue ray of light streamed out, which spread out its rays till the ball had rolled to another. At last the steps ceased, and before him extended a long passage, the opposite end of which was lighted by a clear point: they approached it, and soon discovered a folding-door with glass windows, through which shone the bright daylight. They passed through it, and found themselves in a splendid garden, full of rare flowers and shrubs, such as Jussuf had never before seen. At the entrance, two slaves approached him, who bowed to him respectfully, but silently, and beckoned to him to follow them. They led him into a large summer-house: there sat some men whom Jussuf took for dervishes; they stood up and greeted him.

"Thou comest to fetch the treasure of the poor," said one of them: "thy desires shall be fulfilled." He immediately made a sign to the others, and they all moved off through another door. "Men," continued he, "certainly are complete fools; they fix their hearts on such useless things; and the more they have the more insatiable they are."

He shook his head contemptuously. Before he had said anything more, the remaining dervishes came back, one bringing a number of purses filled with sequins; two others bringing precious boxes filled with pearls; the third, two boxes with great diamonds of the finest fire; a fourth, two boxes full of the finest emeralds; and so each one another precious thing.

Jussuf took all the things, and hid the boxes and the purses about his person.

"Are you satisfied?" asked the dervish who had first spoken.

And Jussuf answered, "No."

"I said so," grumbled the dervish. And, at a sign from him, the others again went and brought, as at the first time, purses of gold and boxes of jewels.

"Hast thou enough now?" asked the dervish.

And Jussuf, who could hardly dispose of all about him, answered, "No."

With still greater signs of displeasure, the dervish caused a fresh burden of similar presents to be brought. And, as Jussuf could not carry any more, he asked again, "Now hast thou not enough, at last?"

Remembering Hassan's instructions, he again answered, "No."

Then the dervish got up, and turned round on one foot angrily, and exclaimed, "Thou shameful man, art thou insatiable? Thou canst not take all with thee that thou hast already received, and thou must load thy companion also with the trifles in order to convey them hence, and yet thou hast not enough, thou glutton!"

Immediately the other dervishes surrounded him, and screamed out, as from a cave, "Glutton! impudent creature! avaricious man!"

"And what dost thou want now?" asked the dervish.

Then Jussuf said the word that Hassan had taught him for this occasion, "Ketlafgat."

He had hardly spoken it, when the other dervishes sat down, and he who had asked the question went out of the summer-house. He soon came back with a small box, which he gave to Jussuf: it was made of mean wood, and without any ornament.

"Here is what thou desirest," said he. And, while he reached to him a small golden key, he added, "Henceforward thou no longer needest a guide. Go where thy inclination leads thee: thou wilt always be in the right road if thou do not open this box with the key; but, if thou art once in despair, and all hope has vanished of reaching the end of thy journey, thou mayest then open it."

He made a sign with his hand, and immediately the two slaves were ready to conduct him away. Hassan took the boxes and the purses, which Jussuf could not carry, in his pockets, and bowed to go away.

Then the dervish called after him, "Many persons have already fetched the Ketlafgat from us, and it has always come back to us: it will return from thee also."

The slaves led them another way out of the garden into the entrance of a cave in the rock, shut the door behind them, and left them in a dark passage. They groped about with their hands, and soon felt a door. Hassan knocked again nine times with his hammer, and, behold, the door opened at the last blow, and they issued out at another end of the ruins of the destroyed town into the open air.

"Now we dare speak again," said Hassan. "What dost thou think of doing? morning is not very distant. Wilt thou not return to the town, and unload thyself of thy treasures?"

But Jussuf shook his head thoughtfully, and said, "What shall I do? What shall I say? I have lately witnessed such wonders that I am almost unable to think. I am no longer the man that I was, who had a decided will of his own. I appear to myself like a play-ball to beings of a superhuman nature. Every man, however, plays this part to a certain extent."

"Well, bethink thee. See, I have packed up the treasures for thee, and would willingly be released soon from thee, for I must return to Shiraz in good time to-day, as thou probably knowest. Let us hasten, then, back to the little town: there thou canst consider with thy people what thou shalt do."

Jussuf followed him in deep thought, and, soon arriving at the town, they entered the caravanserai. The slaves received their master with joy, for they had become suspicious at his going out without attendants, and, not coming back at night, they feared lest some misfortune should have happened to him.

After he had laid down the purses and the boxes with the jewels, he turned to Hassan, and said, "Thou hast already performed so many services for me, that I must trespass and require still further from thee. I see that this train will be more troublesome than serviceable to me in my long journey; but I cannot leave it behind. Do me the pleasure of taking these slaves, camels, and all the treasures which are contained in each bale of goods, and travel with them as if they were thine own property. If I return happily, and thou art willing, should I be in need, to let me have part back again, I will accept it from thee as a free-will present; should I not return, I shall have no more need of them."

After a short conversation, Hassan consented, and immediately ordered his camels to be laden to return to Shiraz. Jussuf took some of the boxes of precious stones, a good number of purses with sequins, and, above all, the box with the talisman Ketlafgat, loaded his horse with them, took leave of Hassan with heartfelt thankfulness, commanded his slaves to obey their new master, mounted his horse, and rode at the dawn of morning towards the rising of the sun.

Jussuf had proceeded ten days in this direction without anything remarkable happening to him. On the evening of the eleventh day he arrived at a high hill, which appeared fruitless, not a tree or a bush to be seen. There was not a village, a hut, or a tent within his sight all round. He was obliged to resolve to pass the night under the open sky, and looked about to see to what he could fasten his horse; for, although it was a tame, trusty animal, yet he was afraid that it might run away in the night. At last, finding nothing, he unbuckled the pack-saddle, and let his steed pasture on the half-withered grass, which was the only thing there. Then he lay down on the ground, and soon fell asleep; but he suddenly awoke again, and, looking for his horse, found it had vanished; he looked towards the place where the saddle was laid—that was not there either. It was clear to him that a robber had taken his horse. He peered round in the deceptive moonlight, but could perceive nothing. He was much grieved, and said to himself, "It is quite just: I had a company of true servants, and have sent them away in a frivolous manner; I had immense riches, and have given them into the hands of a stranger without surety, who may live happily in their possession whilst I must starve." But he soon continued, with collected courage, "Yet of what use are all the goods of the earth to me? What help would a whole army of the most faithful and the boldest companions be to me? I seek a gift with which I shall ever be on the right road, as the dervish said, and I always carry the box and the golden key with me. Everything may go if the talisman Ketlafgat remains to me, which will preserve me if despair should seize me in the attainment of my wishes."