'Hauff's Fairy Tales' [1903] translated and adapted by Cicely McDonnell illustrations by Fritz Bergen ****************************** This document was prepared with borrowed Etext for Arthur's Classic Novels. , August 30, 2001 This document was prepared with borrowed etext for Arthur's Classic Novels. Etext was prepared by volunteers. XML markup by Arthur Wendover. August 30, 2001. (See source text for details.) translated and adapted by Cicely McDonnell [1903] How the Caliph became a Stork The Rescue of Fatima The History of Little Mouk The Story of the False Prince The Dwarf's Nose Almansor The Adventures of Said The Story of the Stag-Florin A Heart of Stone MANY years ago, on a lovely afternoon, the Caliph Casid of Bagdad sat at his ease on a luxurious sofa. It was a very hot day; he had had a sound nap, and had awakened in the happiest of moods. He drew a few puffs through his long rose-wood-stemmed pipe, sipped the coffee brought by an obsequious slave, and stroked his long beard with an air of extreme satisfaction. It was evident that the Caliph felt at peace with the world. Indeed, at such an hour he was easy to approach, and so every day he received a visit from his Grand Vizier, Mansor. But on this particular afternoon the Grand Vizier seemed rather thoughtful and disinclined to talk; so the Caliph, taking his pipe from his mouth, said: "What is the matter with you to-day, Mansor?" The Grand Vizier crossed his arms on his breast, and bowing low answered: "Mighty lord, there is really nothing the matter; but outside the Castle stands a merchant who has such beautiful wares that I feel quite unhappy that I have no money to spare and to spend." The Caliph, who had always rather favoured the Grand Vizier, at once sent a black slave to conduct the merchant to his presence. Not many moments did he wait ere a little fat man, with sunbrowned face and ragged garments, appeared. This was the merchant, and he carried a pack containing all sorts of treasures - pearls and rings, richly ornamented pistols, golden cups and combs. The Caliph and the Vizier turned the articles over and over, and the Caliph bought some fine pistols for himself and Mansor, and for the Vizier's wife a comb. While the merchant was packing up his wares in his box, the Caliph noticed therein a small drawer, and asked what it held. The merchant opened the drawer, and showed them a snuff-box containing some black powder, and a small piece of paper, on which was written something which neither the Caliph nor the Vizier could read. "I got these from a merchant in Mecca," said the pedlar, "and do not know what the writing means. If you like, you can have them for a trifling sum." The Caliph, who had in his library many rare manuscripts which he could not decipher, but in the possession of which he took pride, bought both snuff-box and paper and dismissed the pedlar. He was, however, very curious about the meaning of the writing, so asked the Vizier if he knew any one who could translate it. "Gracious lord and master," answered Mansor, "near the great Mosque lives a man named Selim the Scholar, who understands all languages. Bid him come hither; perhaps he can read these secret instructions." The learned man was sent for at once. "Selim," said the Caliph, "you are said to be well informed. Look at this writing: if you can read it you shall have a fine new coat; if you cannot, you shall be bastinadoed on back and feet, and every one shall know that Selim the Scholar has not the wisdom he pretends." Selim bowed humbly and said: "Thy will be done, great lord !" For some minutes he scanned the writing, then exclaimed: "This is Latin, great lord; if not, may I be hanged !" "Then if it be Latin, tell us what it says," returned the Caliph. Selim read thus: " 'Thou, who this findest, praise Allah for his mercy ! Whoever snuffs the powder in this box and says "Mutabor," changes himself to the form of an animal, and will be able to understand animal language. Should he desire to resume his manhood, he need only turn to the east, bow three times, and repeat the word. But he must beware lest during his metamorphosis he laugh; if so, he will forget the magic word and remain for ever an animal.' " Satisfied with Selim's translation, the Caliph, binding him by solemn oaths not to divulge the secret between them, gave him a new kaftan and sent him away. To his Grand Vizier he said: "I call that a good bargain, Mansor ! I should like for once in a way to be an animal. To-morrow morning come to me. We will go together outside the city, snuff a little of this powder, and understand, perhaps, the language of those which fly, swim, or crawl." Hardly had the Caliph Casid breakfasted the following morning ere the Grand Vizier appeared ready for the appointed walk. The Caliph put the snuff-box safely in his sash, and bidding his followers remain in the city, set out alone with the Grand Vizier. First they walked through the gardens of the Caliphate; but hurriedly, for they were anxious to try the experiment, and the Vizier spoke of a pond outside the walls where he had seen many animals, but particularly storks, whose dignified actions and hoarse cries had often attracted his attention. The Caliph, therefore, decided in favour of the pond, and together they walked to its bank, where there were quite a number of these quaint birds, who took no notice of their approach, but continued to fish for frogs. At the same time they noticed overhead another stork which was hastening to join the rest. "I'll wager my beard," said the Vizier, "that these storks have plenty to say to each other. What do you think of our turning storks for a time?" "An excellent idea," said the Caliph. "But first let us carefully remember exactly how to become men again. We must bow three times to the east, and say 'Mutabor,' then I shall be Caliph and you Grand Vizier. But, in the name of Allah, no laughing, or we shall indeed be in a fix !" While the Caliph was speaking, he observed how the Stork above their heads balanced his wings and slowly dropped to earth. Quickly he drew forth the box, took a good pinch of snuff the Vizier doing the same, and both cried: "Mutabor." Immediately their legs shrivelled and became thin and red; their lovely yellow slippers became storks' feet and their arms wings their necks stretched till they were nearly a yard long; their beards disappeared, and their bodies were covered with feathers. "You have a beautiful bill, my Grand Vizier," said the Caliph in some astonishment. "By the beard of the Prophet, this is indeed a transformation." "Thank you for the compliment," said the Grand Vizier, bowing. "May I return it by saying that your Highness is even handsomer as a stork than as a Caliph? But would it not be as well to join our comrades at once, and ascertain whether we really can understand stork language?" By this time the other Stork had settled down. It rubbed its bill against its feet, plumed its feathers and went to the pond. The two new Storks, however, hurried after it, and on nearing the group, to their amazement, heard the following conversation: "Good morning, Madame Longlegs. You are but early this morning." "Good morning to you, dear Chatterbox ! Yes, I have had a nice little breakfast. How have you fared? I suppose you only 'pecked a bit ' - a mere quarter of a lizard or hind leg of a frog !" "Thank you very much. I have not much appetite today. Besides, I have to dance for the entertainment of my father's guests. Excuse me if I leave you. I must practise a few steps." And without ceremony Miss Stork left her companions and at once began her posturing. The Caliph and the Vizier watched her with curious interest; but when she stood on one foot and waved her wings affectedly, they could no longer contain their feelings, but broke into a hearty peal of laughter. The Caliph was the first to realise the seriousness of the situation. "This is a joke which gold cannot pay for," said he. The Grand Vizier, too, began to regret that they had not sufficiently remembered that they were on no account to laugh. He tried to conceal his discomfiture by exclaiming: "By Mecca and Medina ! It would be a fine thing if I must remain a stork for ever. Can you, my lord, remember that stupid word? It has completely slipped my memory." Said the Caliph: "Three times must we bow towards the east; and then say 'Mu- Mu- Mu- ' " but no more could he recall, and both he and the Caliph had no choice but to remain Storks. Sadly they wandered through the fields, not knowing what their unfortunate condition might bring upon them. Storks they must remain for the present. It was useless to return to the city and attempt to explain themselves, for who would believe a Stork if he said: "Good people, I am your Caliph !" Or, if belief were accorded, was it likely that the people of Bagdad would consent to be ruled by a Stork? So day by day passed by, and they sustained themselves with wild fruit, finding some difficulty in eating with those long bills. For lizards and frogs they had no appetite. Their one pleasure in this unfortunate state was the ability to fly, and they often flew to Bagdad, and from the roofs watched the doings in the city. At first they only noticed much sorrow and bewilderment on the part of the people; but about four days after their transformation, as they were resting on the roof of the Caliph's palace, they saw a splendid procession pass through the streets. Drums and pipes sounded, a man in a gold and scarlet cloak sat on a splendidly caparisoned horse surrounded with liveried guards. Half Bagdad acclaimed him thus: "Hail, Miszra, Lord of Bagdad !" The two Storks looked at one another; and then the Caliph said: "Guess you not, Mansor, why I have been bewitched? This Miszra is the son of my greatest enemy, the mighty magician Cassimir, who in an evil hour swore revenge against me. But I will not despair ! Come with me, faithful companion in misery. Let us make a pilgrimage to the grave of the Prophet. Perhaps on that holy spot we shall recall the magic word." So they forsook the roof of the Palace, and flew towards Medina. But they were not yet well accustomed to flying, for they had had little practice, and at last the Grand Vizier gasped out: "Great lord, with your permission I will rest a little. You fly too fast for me. Evening draws near; would it not be well to seek some shelter for to-night?" To this the Caliph agreed, and as they perceived in the valley near by a ruin which still had some sort of a roof, they flew in its direction. It had evidently been at one time a castle. Although terribly dilapidated, there were remains of stately apartments and splendid passages. The Caliph and the Vizier traversed these with some interest, but suddenly Mansor stopped. "Lord and deliverer," faltered he, "it is rather ridiculous for a Grand Vizier, even for a Stork, to be afraid of ghosts. But I hear sobbings and sighings, and my courage fails me !" The Caliph paused and listened, and heard most unmistakably the soft weeping either of a human being or some animal. Full of impatience, he would have pressed forward to ascertain the cause of this distress, but the Grand Vizier seized hold of Casid's wing so that he should not wantonly rush into any new danger. But it was no use. The Caliph, whether man or stork, had a brave heart, and wrenching himself free at the expense of a few feathers, he plunged into a dark passage. Ere long he came to some broken stairs leading to a door, only half fastened, and from behind which the sobs evidently came. Pressing his beak against this door and carefully awaiting surprises, he saw through the narrow opening a ruined chamber, lighted only by a deep casement window on the sill of which was sitting a large night-owl. Thick tears were streaming from her big round eyes, and with plaintive cries she bemoaned her lot. But when she saw the Caliph and the Grand Vizier she uttered a joyful cry. Hastily brushing the tears from her eyes with a dexterous movement of her brown wings, she, much to the astonishment of the two men, called out in excellent Arabic: "Welcome, welcome, good Storks. You are the tokens of my deliverance; for long ago it was told me that through Storks I should meet with good luck." As soon as the Caliph recovered from his astonishment, he drew his feet together in an elegant pose, bowed his long neck, and said: "Night-Owl ! From your words I gather you are a fellow-sufferer with ourselves. But, alas ! any hope you may have formed as to our capacity to assist you is doomed to disappointment. You will the better understand this if we relate to you our sad story." When the Caliph concluded his recital the Owl said: "Listen to my tale of woe, and then you will agree that I am as unfortunate as you. My father is the King of India, and I, his only and unhappy daughter, am named Lusa. The magician Cassimir, who bewitched you, worked his arts on me also. He came one day to my father, and asked me in marriage for his son Miszra. My father threw him down the palace stairs. But the wretch determined on an abominable vengeance, and one morning when I was walking in the palace garden he disguised himself as a slave, and brought me a goblet containing a draught, which had the effect of changing me into an Owl. He then conveyed me to this place, and his hateful voice hissed in my ear these terrible words: " 'In this horrible tower you shall remain till you die, unless some one, in spite of your hideous condition, will make you his wife. So I revenge myself on you and your father !' "Since then many months have passed by, and all alone I have lived in this gloomy tower. Nature's beauties cannot console me, for in the daytime I am blind; only at night can I see." The Owl paused, and again brushed from her eyes the tears caused by her sad thoughts. The story told by the Princess made the Caliph very grave. "It seems to me," he said at last, "that between your troubles and mine own there is some resemblance; but where shall we find the key to this riddle?" The Owl replied : "My lord, I only know this, that when I was a quite young girl, a wise woman foretold that a Stork would bring me luck; and I have an idea how we may deliver ourselves." The Caliph was astounded, and asked what she meant. "The magician who has wrought evil on us all," said she, "comes once every month to these ruins. Not far from this apartment is a large hall; there he and others of his sort hold feastings and consultations. I have often watched them. They tell each other of their scandalous tricks; perhaps this next time they meet, the magic word you have so unfortunately forgotten may be disclosed." "Oh, dearest Princess," cried the Caliph, "tell us when will they come, and where is the hall?" The Owl was silent for a few minutes. Then: "Do not think me unkind," said she, "but it is only on one condition that I can grant your wish -" "Name it, name it," cried Casid. "Every moment is precious, and no conditions will be too difficult !" The Owl replied: "I also wish to be free; but this can only happen if one of you offers to marry me - that is the condition." At this the Storks seemed rather confused, and the Caliph beckoned the Grand Vizier aside. "Mansor," said he, whispering, "this is a stupid idea; but you can marry the Owl afterwards." "Indeed," said the Vizier, "so that my wife may scratch my eyes out when I return home ! Besides, look what an old man I am. You are young and unmarried, and can easily offer your hand to a young and beautiful Princess !" "That is just the point," sighed the Caliph dejectedly, drooping his wings. "How do we know she is young and beautiful? I do not care to buy a pig in a poke." They spoke seriously for some time, but when the Caliph realised that the Vizier would rather remain a Stork than marry the Owl, he gave way, and agreed himself to fulfil this hard condition. The Owl was delighted with the result of their conference. She assured them that they had all chanced to meet at a particularly lucky moment, for this very night the merchants would assemble. So all three together they left the chamber and went towards the hall. Through many dark passages they softly stepped. At last a bright light streamed through a crack in a wall. As they approached nearer the Owl begged them to make no noise whatever. From the stones on which they stood they could perceive all that was going on in the hall. Many-coloured lamps shed a light equal to that of day. In the middle was a round table with a variety of choice dishes thereon. Round about the table were couches on which men were sitting. In one of these men the Caliph recognised the pedlar who had sold the magic powder. His neighbour at table was asking him for the latest details of his business. Then, among other anecdotes, he told the story of the Caliph and his Vizier. "And what was the word you gave him?" asked another magician. "A Latin word, 'Mutabor,' " was the reply. When the Storks heard this they were beside themselves with joy. They ran so fast from the place that the Owl could scarcely keep up with them. Then said the Caliph to the Owl: "Saviour of my life and of the life of my friend, receive our ever-heartfelt thanks and honour me by becoming my wife." Then he turned to the east, for the first rays of the morning sun were showing above the mountain-tops, and he and the Vizier bowed their long necks. "Mutabor," cried they, and in an instant were they restored to their former state; and in the delight of the moment the Caliph and Vizier laughed and wept in each other's arms. But imagine their astonishment when they saw a lovely woman, most beautifully dressed, standing before them, who smilingly gave her hand to the Caliph. "Cannot you recognise your Night-Owl?" said she; and the Caliph was so enraptured with her beauty and grace than he more than once declared that he was only too glad that he had been changed into a Stork. Three very happy people journeyed together to Bagdad. The Caliph found among his clothes, not only the snuff-box, but his purse; and was therefore able to buy, in the villages they passed through, such things as were necessary, so without any delay they reached the city. Arriving there the Caliph heard strange news. He had been mourned as dead. Now, however, his people hastened to rejoice over his happy return, and with each hour their hatred of the usurper Miszra increased. The crowd rushed to the Palace and seized both father and son. The old man was sent by the Caliph to the tower in which the Princess had lived as an Owl, and there he was hanged. To the son, who was ignorant of his father's magic arts, the Caliph gave the choice of death or a pinch of snuff. As he chose the latter, the Grand Vizier handed him the box. A mighty pinch - and the magic word pronounced by the Caliph changed Miszra into a Stork, and confined in an iron cage, he passed the rest of his life in the Palace garden. Long and happily lived the Caliph Casid with his Princess wife: his happiest hours, perhaps, still being those of the Grand Vizier's afternoon calls, when they often talked over their strange experiences. And sometimes when the Caliph was in a merry mood he would tease the Grand Vizier about his appearance as a Stork. He would strut stiffly up and down the apartment, flap his arms as if they were wings, and bow as the forgetful Vizier did, crying, "Mu, Mu !" This little scene always gave great delight to the Calipha and her children; but after the Caliph, had made fun of his friend with his clapping, croaking, and bowing, and his "Mu, mu, mu !' the Vizier was wont to request that the part of the story referring to the Night-Owl the Calipha herself should relate. FOR many years Lezah was Cadi of Acara. He had two children, whose names were Mustapha and Fatima. There was only two years difference in their ages, and they loved each other dearly. When Fatima's sixteenth birthday came, her brother prepared a little feast, to which he invited all their playfellows. The repast included only the daintiest dishes, and towards evening he suggested that they should all go for a row on the sea in a harque, which he had had specially decorated for the occasion. Fatima and her young guests were delighted, for the evening was so fine and the view of the town from the water very picturesque. The girls, however, enjoyed themselves so much that they persuaded Mustapha to row farther and farther away from the shore. This, he rather unwillingly did, for a few days ago he had noticed the presence of a Corsair in the bay. Not far from the town there was a promontory stretching out into the sea, and the maidens wished to go there and watch the setting sun sink into the peaceful waters. As they rowed round it they noticed a boat, in which were some armed men, and fearing disaster, Mustapha ordered his men to turn the barque round and go back to the landing stage. It seemed almost as if his misgivings were correct, for the other boat immediately followed Mustapha's, then passed it, and kept deliberately between it and the shore. The maidens when they realised their danger became so frightened that they clung together and wept and wailed, and in spite of Mustapha's efforts to reassure them, and his warnings that if they did not sit still the barque might be upset, they became so wild with terror that on the near approach of the Corsair's boat, they crowded to one side and were overturned. In the meantime the people on the banks had noticed the strange boat, and their suspicions had been aroused; and several craft had put off in order to assist Mustapha should it be necessary. But they only arrived in time to witness the accident. In the confusion the strange boat got away, and as the rescued were placed in different skiffs it was impossible to know at once if all were saved. But by degrees it was only too certain that Fatima and one of her playmates were missing, and that in one of the boats was a man whom no one knew. In reply to Mustapha's threats he admitted that he belonged to a ship which was anchored about two miles away, and that his captors had left him in the lurch as he was trying to save some of the young girls; and that he knew they had taken two off to the ship. The old father's grief was terrible to witness, and Mustapha was simply heartbroken, for besides the loss of Fatima, the playmate also missing was a young girl to whom he was secretly betrothed; the slender circumstances of her parents having prevented him from acquainting his own father, a proud and haughty man, of the fact. When his grief had somewhat subsided, the Cadi sent for Mustapha and said: "Through your stupidity I have lost the light of my eyes and the comfort of my old age. Go away from here; I banish you for ever from my sight. May my curse pursue you, only to be removed when you bring Fatima again to me !" This was a shock to Mustapha; for he had made a vow to find his sister and her companion, and would fain have asked his father's blessing on the endeavour; but now he was sent out into the world bearing the heavy burden of a curse. And the bitterest thought was that it was undeserved. He sought out the prison where the pirate sailor lay, and asked for news as to the trade of the ship; and was told that the captain trafficked in slaves, which he sold in the great market-place at Balsora. When he returned to the house to prepare for his journey, he found that his father was less angry, and had sent him a purse of gold for the expenses of his journey. Mustapha next took a tearful farewell of Zoraide's parents, and started on the way to Balsora, going as far as possible by land, as no ship was leaving Acara for the port he desired, and travelling in hot haste, so as not to be far behind the pirates. At the end of four days, as he was riding all alone, three men suddenly attacked him. He saw that they were well armed, and as he valued his horse and his gold less than his life, he shouted that he would surrender. They bound his feet together beneath his horse, set him in their midst, and one of them took his reins and led him along without speaking a word. Mustapha now felt afraid that his father's curse was beginning to work, and could hardly dare to hope that his quest on behalf of his sister and Zoraide could succeed, since all his valuables were seized and only his wretched life spared him. He and his silent captors had ridden for about an hour, when they came upon a little valley, surrounded by high trees, and through which flowed a narrow silvery brook. Here he saw from fifteen to twenty tents, and tethered near by were camels and splendid horses; from one of the tents came the sound of a zither and men's voices singing. It seemed to Mustapha that people who could choose such a lovely place to camp in could not have any evil designs on him, and he followed his captors, who had loosened his bonds and signed to him to dismount, without anxiety or hesitation. They led him towards the largest tent, which was beautifully arranged inside. Splendidly covered cushions, hand-made carpets, golden censers, proved that this tent belonged to no common robber. On one of the cushions sat a little old man, hideous to behold; but by the behaviour of his companions Mustapha felt sure that not for him was the tent so handsomely furnished. "Where is the Chief?" asked one of the men. "He is out hunting," was the reply, "and ordered me to take his place in his absence." "That is a pity," said one of the robbers, "for we want to know if this man shall live or die; and he can decide that better than you." The little man rose with offended dignity, and would evidently have liked to pull the robber by the ear, but failing in his intention, the two together began struggling and fighting. Suddenly the curtain of the tent was thrown back, and a tall, handsome man entered. His garments, his splendid weapons, betokened his condition, but more impressive far were his noble features, and calm, penetrating eyes. "Who is it who dares to quarrel in my tent?" he asked. A brief silence - and then one of the men who brought Mustapha to the camp explained how it happened; and hearing him, the Chief's fine face reddened with anger. "When did I set you in my place, Hassan?" thundered he. The little man crept crestfallen from the tent, his lingering steps quickened by a threatening gesture on the part of the Chief. When Hassan had withdrawn, the three robbers brought Mustapha to the Chief, who had thrown himself on the luxurious cushions. "We bring you one whose capture you desired," said they. The Chief looked earnestly at Mustapha and said: "Bashaw of Sulieika, thy conscience will tell thee why thou standest before Orbassan." When Mustapha heard these words, he threw himself before the Chief and cried: "My lord, there is some great mistake. I am a most unhappy wretch, but not the Bashaw whom thou seekest." All those in the tent were amazed at these words, and Orbassan said: "Your denial will not help you, for I can call people who know you well;" and he gave orders that Zuleima should be brought before him; who when asked if she recognised the prisoner, said: "Certainly, my lord, he is the Bashaw of Sulieika, and no one else !" "See," said the Chief, "how little your lie has availed you. I despise you too much to soil my dagger with your miserable blood; but on the back of one of my horses shall you be bound to-morrow morning, and through the forest I will pursue you until the sun sets behind the hills of Sulieika." Then Mustapha's courage failed him. "My father's curse is haunting me," he cried, "and now indeed, dear sister, and still dearer Zoraide, are you lost." "Resistance is no good," whispered one of the robbers, as he bound the captive's hands behind his back. "Best come quietly out of the tent, for the Chief is biting his lips and looking at his dagger. Come, if you wish to live till to-morrow." As the robbers drew Mustapha out of the tent, they met three comrades with a prisoner. "We bring the Bashaw, as you commanded," said they, and led the captive before the Chief. As the prisoner was going into the tent, Mustapha had an opportunity of observing him, and was struck with the extraordinary likeness to himself, save that the stranger was darker and his beard blacker. The Chief was also astonished at the resemblance between the two men. "Which of you is the right man?" he asked, looking from one to the other. "If you mean which is the Bashaw of Sulieika," said the latest prisioner haughtily, "I am he !" The Chief looked attentively at him, then signed to the men to take their prisoner away, and when alone with Mustapha cut his bonds with the dagger blade, and invited him to be seated. "I am sorry, stranger," said he, "that I mistook you for another; but you may thank Heaven that you did not fall into my brother's hands." Mustapha then begged permission to continue his journey without delay, as every moment was of such dire importance. The Chief inquired the object of his travellings, and having heard, suggested that a night's rest would be best for man and beast, and promised on the morrow to show him a short route by which he would reach Balsora in a day and a half. Mustapha willingly consented to remain, and slept soundly till morning. When he awoke he found himself alone in the tent, but through the curtains he could hear voices in discussion, among them those of the Chief and the little black man. He listened, and, to his horror, heard the dwarf suggest that Mustapha should be put to death in case he might betray them. Mustapha was certain that the dwarf owed him a grudge on account of the struggle in the tent the day before; but the Chief, after a moment's thought, said: "No I he is my guest, and as such his person is sacred, and I am sure he is no traitor !" As he spoke these words he threw the curtains back and cried: "Peace be with you, Mustapha. Let us pledge each other, and then you must prepare for your journey." The attendant immediately brought goblets of sherbet, and when they had drunk, they mounted their steeds, and with a light heart Mustapha took his departure. They soon left the camp behind, and crossed an open space which led into the forest. The Chief told Mustapha that the Bashaw, whom they had once caught on the chase, had promised not in any way to molest them; but for many weeks he had captured their bravest men, and after tormenting them cruelly had hanged them. The Chief had been watching for him some time, and to-day the Bashaw must die. Mustapha felt thankful at his own happy escape. At the far end of the forest the Chief reined in his horse, instructed Mustapha as to his way, shook him by the hand, and said: "Mustapha, you have, by extraordinary circumstance, been the guest of the bandit Orbassan. I know well you will not disclose anything you have seen or heard. You have passed through danger of death, and I admire your fortitude. Take this dagger in remembrance, and should you need help at any time, send it to me, and I will hasten to your assistance. This purse, I pray you, use on your journey." Mustapha thanked him for his generosity; he took the dagger, but returned the gold. Orbassan, however, dropped it from his hand, and it lay unheeded on the ground as he sprang to his horse. When he was well out of sight Mustapha picked up the purse, and was startled to find such evidence of his host's magnificence, for the value of the gold was great. He thanked God for his escape, commended the noble robber to His protection, and continued his journey to Balsora at his best speed. On the seventh day of his journeyings Mustapha rode through the gates of Balsora. Dismounting at an inn, he asked when the slave-market would be held. To his dismay he learnt that he was two days late. The bystanders sympathised with his disappointment, and told him he had lost an excellent opportunity, for on the very last day of the market two most lovely slaves had been brought in, who had attracted the admiration of all the buyers. Many wished to purchase them, but the biddings went so high that no one could compete with their ultimate possessor. Further inquiries convinced Mustapha that these two slaves were his sister and Zoraide. He also learnt that their owner was named Thiuli-Kos, and lived quite forty hours' journey from Balsora. He was a rich and elderly man, formerly ruler of Kapudan and a Bashaw, but now quietly managed his large dominions. Mustapha felt inclined to mount his horse at once and follow Thiuli-Kos without delay. But he remembered that alone and without escort he was powerless against a mighty traveller, and had to think what would be a really possible way to carry out his plans. The strange likeness between himself and the Bashaw of Sulieika, which had nearly been so disastrous to him, gave him the idea of assuming the name, and of so gaining an entrance into the house of Thiuli-Kos, with the prospect of rescuing the unfortunate maidens. He was able, thanks to Orbassan's generosity, to hire servants and horses, and buy suitable outfit for them and himself ere starting on his journey to the Castle. After five days they were in its neighbourhood. It stood in a fine position, and was surrounded by walls which were almost as high as the building itself. When he reached the Castle, he dyed his hair and beard black, but only slightly darkened the colour of his skin in order to make his face more like to the Bashaw's. Then he sent his servants in advance to the Castle to crave a night's hospitality for the Bashaw of Sulieika. The servants returned, and with them four handsomely dressed slaves, who took Mustapha's horse by the bridle and led it to the courtyard. There they held it while he dismounted, and four other attendants led him up a broad marble staircase to Thiuli, who with great friendliness welcomed him, and ordered a meal to be prepared. After he had eaten, Mustapha turned the conversation to the subject of the new slaves, and Thuili spoke enthusiastically of their good looks, but feared their continual fretting would soon destroy their beauty. Satisfied with the success, so far, of his adventure, Mustapha withdrew to rest. He could hardly have slept an hour, when he was disturbed by the glare of a lamp held close to his face. He roused himself, and thought he must be dreaming, for it was no other than the little brown-faced dwarf from Orbassan's tent who had awakened him. Mustapha pinched and pulled himself to see if it were reality or imagination. "Why are you here by my bed?" cried Mustapha, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. "Do not excite yourself, my lord," said the dwarf. "I know well why you are come hither. Your face is perfectly familiar to me, though if I had not with my own hands helped to hang the Bashaw, I might have been deceived. Now I have something to ask." "First tell me why you are here," said Mustapha, furious to find he had been recognised. "Willingly. I could no longer bear the rule of the Chief Orbassan, so I left him; but you, Mustapha, were partly the cause of our quarrel, so you must promise me your sister for my wife. If you do so I will help you in both rescue and flight; if not, I will go to my new master and tell him you are an impostor." Mustapha was beside himself with rage to think that just as he had so nearly succeeded in his difficult task, this wretched dwarf should suddenly thwart him. There was only one way out of the difficulty - he must kill the man, and he sprang from his couch with sudden, intention; but the dwarf was not unprepared, and, dropping the lamp, ran out into the dark corridor screaming for help. Here indeed was a catastrophe. His own safety was of first importance, and Mustapha rushed to the window to see if he could possibly jump out. It was rather high from the ground, and beyond was a wall over which he must climb. As he paused to think, he heard voices near, even at the door of his apartment. Securing his dagger and his clothes he swung himself from the casement. The fall was hard, but he had broken no bones, so ran as fast as be could to the wall, reaching it before his pursuers, and found himself once more free. He ran on till he came to a small wood, where he threw himself down to rest and consider what next to do. His horses and his servants he must leave where they were; but his money, most fortunately, was safe in his cummerbund. His busy brain soon worked out another plan. He went through the wood until he came to a village, where he bought a horse and rode to the nearest town. There he sought an apothecary, and was directed to an old and venerable man; to whom he offered a large price for a drug which would produce a deathlike sleep, and for another which would instantaneously act as an antidote. With these in his possession he bought a long false beard, a black gown, and some books, so that he could impersonate a travelling doctor, bound these things upon a donkey's back, and went back to the Castle of Thiuli-Kos. He hoped this time to be more successful, for the beard changed his appearance so that he hardly knew himself. When he reached Thiuli, he announced himself as the physician Chakamankabudibaba, and, as he had hoped, the old ruler immediately ordered his attendance. Chakamankabudibaba presented himself before Thiuli, and they had hardly conversed for an hour before the old man thought his slave-women might as well consult this famous doctor. Mustapha could hardly conceal his pleasure at the prospect of seeing his dear sister again, and with a beating heart followed Thiuli to the Seraglio. They paused in a beautifully decorated but empty room. "Chambaba, or whatever your name is, great doctor," said Thiuli-Kos, "observe that hole in the wall. Through it each slave will put her arm, and you can tell by the pulse if she be well or ill." This was hardly what Mustapha desired; but he consented to do as Thiuli wished, and the old man took a long roll out of his girdle and began to call his slaves by name, and each in turn passed her hand through the wall, and the physician felt her pulse. Six had already been declared well and strong when Thiuli called "Fatima," and a little white hand slipped through the wall. Trembling with joy, Mustapha seized it, and declared the owner to be ill undoubtedly. Thiuli was much concerned, and begged his wise Chakamankabudibaba to find some medicine which would cure her. The physician went outside and wrote on a little slip of paper "Fatima, I will save you, if you can shut yourself up and take a draught which will make you unconscious for two days. I have another which will bring you back to life. Do not be afraid." Then Mustapha returned to the room where Thiuli was impatiently waiting, and taking with him the little draught he felt Fatima's pulse once more and slipped the paper beneath her bracelet, passing the medicine through the opening in the wall. Thiuli seemed in great distress about Fatima, and impatiently awaited the result of the examination. As he left the room with Mustapha, he said in a sad voice: "Chadibaba, what is the matter with Fatima?" Chakamankabudibaba answered with a deep sigh: "By the beard of the Prophet, she has a severe fever, which may, perhaps, end fatally." At this Thiuli flew into a violent rage. "How dare you tell me that, accursed dog of a physician. Is she, for whom I gave two thousand golden pieces, to die like an animal? By my oath, if you do not save her, I will cut your head off !" Then Mustapha perceived that he had made a mistake, and spoke rather more hopefully. But at this moment a slave came out of the Seraglio and said that the medicine did not seem to have had a good effect. "Put forth all your skill, Chakambababa, and whatever fee you ask shall be yours," cried Thiuli-Kos, almost beside himself with anxiety at the thought of losing so much money spent on a slave. "I will give her another draught which will greatly help her recovery," said the physician. "Do, do; lose no time," said old Thiuli. Full of joy, Mustapha went to get his sleeping-draught, and when he had carefully explained to the black slave exactly how it was to be given to the patient, he went to Thiuli and said that he must go out and search for a healing herb on the shore of the lake, and left the Castle. Into the lake, which was not far from the Castle, he threw his disguise, and watched clothes and beard floating on the water; then he withdrew to a short distance, waited for sunset, and then hid himself in the burying-ground adjoining Thiuli's Castle. Mustapha had hardly been an hour absent from the Castle when the news was brought to Thiuli that his slave Fatima was dying. He sent to the lake, telling his messenger to bring back the physician at once. The man returned alone, and told him that the poor doctor had fallen in the lake and was drowned; his black gown and beard could plainly be seen floating on the waves as they rose and fell. When Thiuli saw there was no more hope, he cursed everything and everybody, tore out the hair of his beard, and banged his head against the wall. But this did no good; and Fatima, meantime, died. When he heard the sad news, he ordered a coffin to be made directly, for he would have no dead bodies in his house, and said she was to be taken to the burial-ground. The bearers brought the coffin there, set it down, and ran away, for they had heard mysterious sobs and groans proceeding from it. Mustapha, who had hidden himself behind some coffins and had noticed how quickly the hearers ran away from the place, stepped forward, and lighted a lamp he had brought with him. Then he drew forth the phial containing the awakening dose, and raised the lid of Fatima's coffin. But what a sad surprise awaited him ! The light of the lamp shone on other features than those of his dear sister. Neither she nor Zoraide lay in that coffin, but altogether a different person. He was much cast down at this fresh blow; fate did indeed seem against him; but pity mingled with his disappointment. He opened the bottle, and poured the medicine between the lips of the swooning girl, who sighed, opened her eyes, and seemed to wonder where she was. At last she remembered all that had happened, and stepping out of the coffin threw herself at Mustapha's feet. "How can I ever thank you, good friend," said she, "for delivering me from my dreadful seclusion?" Mustapha interrupted her thanks with the question how it was that she, and not his sister Fatima, was the fortunate slave. She looked at him in bewilderment. "Now, I begin to understand," she said, "all that puzzled me before. In the Harem I was called Fatima, and you effected my escape through a misunderstanding." Mustapha begged the slave to give him some news of his sister and Zoraide, and learnt that they were both in the castle, but Thiuli had given them other names. They were now called Mirza and Nourmahal. When Fatima, the rescued slave, saw how bitterly downcast Mustapha was, she bade him not despair, and said she thought she could tell him of a way to seek and find his dear ones. Overjoyed at the possibility, Mustapha implored her to lose no time but to explain her meaning. "I was for five months Thiuli's favourite," she said, "but my thoughts were always bent on escape, though alone and unaided it seemed too difficult. In the innermost courtyard you may have noticed a fountain which spouts its water through ten tubes. This fountain interested me. I remembered one like it in my father's house, and that its waters ran through a wide underground passage. In order to ascertain if this fountain was so built, I flattered Thiuli one day as to its beauty, and asked who the designer was. 'I myself;' answered he; 'and what you see is not all. The water comes at least a distance of a thousand yards, from a brook, and passes through a conduit the height of a man. All this I myself designed.' When I heard this, I often wished only for one moment to have the strength of a man; so as to remove one stone from the side of the fountain, and thus be able to escape. I will now show you this waterway; through it you can make your entrance into the Castle at night, and free your sister and Zoraide. But you must take at least two men with you, so that you can overpower the slaves who guard the Seraglio." As she finished speaking, Mustapha, in spite of the want of success of his former efforts, felt a keen desire to make one more attempt at rescue by following the suggestions of the slave Fatima, and promised, in return for her help, to assist her safely to reach her own home. But at first he was rather perplexed as to where to get the necessary men. Then he remembered Orbassan's dagger, and taking the slave-girl with him, he set out for the robbers' camp. In the neighbouring town where he had assumed the disguise of a physician, he bought with his last gold pieces a horse, and paid for lodgings for Fatima in the house of a poor but respectable woman. He himself hastened to the mountains, and received a most hearty welcome from Orbassan, to whom he related his continued bad luck. The treachery of the dwarf infuriated his late master, who swore to hang him with his own hand, should occasion present itself, and promised Mustapha all the help possible, suggesting that he had better fortify himself by a good night's rest. So once more Mustapha availed himself of the Chief's hospitality, and early next morning he and Orbassan started for Balsora, taking with them trusty men, well armed and well mounted. Riding hard, in two days they reached the little town where Mustapha had left the rescued girl. Taking her with them, they rode on till they came to the small forest, from which they could see, in the distance, Thiuli's Castle, and here they encamped to await the night. As soon as it was dark, with Fatima's guidance they found the brook and the waterway. There they left Fatima, with the servants and the horses. Before they entered the conduit Fatima repeated her instructions most emphatically, namely, that they could reach the interior of the courtyard through the fountain, and on the right and left would find two towers; in the sixth door in the right-hand tower were Fatima and Zoraide, guarded by two black slaves. Well provided with weapons and crowbars, Mustapha, Orbassan, and two attendants crept into the watercourse. After wading for half an hour in water up to their waists, they reached the fountain and began to ply their tools. The wall was thick and strongly built, but unable to resist the united efforts of four powerful men, and they had soon broken an opening large enough to slip through easily. Orbassan went first, and helped the others, and when they were in the courtyard carefully examined the side of the Castle nearest to them, so as to ascertain the position of the door which they fain would force. But they were very doubtful which it could be, for when they found the right-hand tower, they also found that the door was nailed up, and wondered whether Fatima had made a mistake. But Orbassan did not hesitate. "My trusty sword will open any door," said he; and forcing the fastenings, he passed through and went at once to the sixth door, the others following him. This too they opened, and found six black slaves lying asleep on the ground; and would have drawn back, but that a man in the corner was aroused, and with well-known voice began to cry for help. He was the dwarf from Orbassan's camp. But before the slaves well knew what was happening, Orbassan seized the dwarf, tore off his sash, gagged his mouth, and tied his hands behind his back; then turned to the other slaves, whom Mustapha and the men had partly bound, and helped to overpower them. Holding their daggers to their breasts, Orbassan and Mustapha forced the wretches to say where Mirza and Nourmahal were, and were told "in the adjoining room." Mustapha hastened inside and found Fatima and Zoraide, who had been awakened by the noise. Quickly they collected their ornaments and clothes and followed Mustapha; the two robbers besought permission to plunder, but Orbassan refused it, saying, "he could not have it said that Orbassan entered houses at night to steal gold." Mustapha and the rescued girls crept quickly into the watercourse, and Orbassan promised to follow them quickly. But first the Chief and his men took the little dwarf into the courtyard, and with a silken rope they had brought with them hanged him to the highest arm of the fountain. After he had thus punished the treachery of the dwarf, he followed Mustapha. With tears of gratitude the maidens thanked their noble-hearted deliverer; but Orbassan urged them on their journey, feeling sure that Thiuli-Kos would follow after, and on the next day, with deep emotion, Mustapha and his precious charges parted from Orbassan, assuring him that they would never forget his goodness. Fatima, the escaped slave, however, went disguised to Balsora, and from thence to her own people. After a short and pleasant journey, the brother and sister with Zoraide arrived at their home. Their old father nearly died of joy when he saw them, and the next day gave a great fête to celebrate their return, to which the whole town was invited. To a large gathering of relations and friends Mustapha related his adventures, and universal praise was bestowed on the Robber Chief. When the recital was ended, old Lezah stood up and called Mustapha, and led him to Zoraide's side. "Thus," said he, "I loose thee from my curse. Take this dear maid for whose sake you have endured and ventured as thy bride, and receive for ever your father's blessing." ONCE upon a time there was a dwarf; whose name was Mukrah, but who was nicknamed Little Mouk. The title fitted him well, for, although quite an old fellow, he was only about three feet high. But, though his body was small, his head was larger and rounder than those of many of his townspeople. Mouk lived all alone in a large house; but so peculiar was he that no one would have known if he were dead or alive, except that he always went out on one particular day each month. That was a joyful occasion for the street boys ! They always assembled near his house and waited to greet him. When the door opened, and first his huge head with a still larger turban peeped out, when his little figure followed clad in a shabby coloured coat and bulgy knickerbockers tied round with a broad sash through which was thrust a large dagger - so large that they never felt sure whether Mouk belonged to the dagger or the dagger to Mouk - when the little dwarf thus made his appearance, their shouts and jeers filled the air. Some of them threw their caps in the air; others danced round him singing : "Little Mouk, Little Mouk, Come and catch us, little Mouk ! Every day you stay at home, Only once a month you roam. Though your body's very small, Your head is large enough for all, Little Mouk, Little Mouk, Come and catch us, little Mouk !" Little Mouk did not mind their teasing ways, neither did he run after the boys as they would have liked him to do, but greeted them with good-humoured noddings of his head, as he slowly shuffled by with his feet in huge slippers. When his walk was done he went home, and remained indoors for another month. Although Little Monk was believed to be well off, he was never seen in any clothes but those described. Why was this? Listen, and I will tell you: These clothes were the only legacy Mouk's father left when he died. Mouk was then about sixteen years old. As his father was a fine, tall man, naturally his clothes did not fit the dwarfish son very well. But Mouk was not easily cast down; so cut off the parts that were too long, threw his rags away, put on his late father's apparel, stuck the famous dagger through his waist-scarf like a sword, took a stick in his hand, and wandered forth in search of fortune. Happily enough he went along. Most of the people he met laughed heartily at his comical appearance, but he seemed pot to notice this, for as Mouk's father's had been ashamed of his pigmy son, Mouk was generally kept indoors, and now he rejoiced in his freedom and the glorious sunshine. And when its rays gilded the distant dome of a mosque, or caused the waves of the lake to sparkle, the dwarf was filled with delight, thinking that at last he was reaching fairyland. But alas ! the pleasures faded as his fatigue asserted itself, and pains of hunger brought him back to sad reality. For two days he wandered about; the wild field-fruits were his food, the hard earth his bed. On the morning of the third day he saw a large town in the distance. Summoning all his strength, he started in its direction, and arrived there about mid-day. Gladly he passed through its gates and walked through its streets. But how disappointed was he ! He thought the people would come out of their houses and say: "Little Mouk, come in, and eat and drink and rest your weary bones !" But no one offered him hospitality. At last, as he was looking anxiously at a fine, large house, a window was thrown open, and an old woman leant out and cried in a sing-song voice: "Come in, come in, you're welcome here, The table's laid, you need not fear; Friends are waiting, don't be late, Well-cooked food is on each plate." The door of the house opened, and Mouk saw a number of dogs and cats run in. Reassured, he followed them, and as he entered the house, the old woman who had looked out of the window asked his business. "You invited every one to your feast," said Little Mouk; "and as I am hungry I came !" The old woman laughed, and said; "And where do you come from, you comical little fellow? The whole town knows that I only cook for my cats, and now and then invite their acquaintances." Little Mouk then told the old woman how, in consequence of his father's death, he was quite homeless, and how unhappy he was. The woman, whose name was Ahavzi, felt so sorry for the little man that she offered to take him into her service. Here his duties were light, but rather monotonous. Ahavzi had six cats, and every morning Mouk had to comb out their fur and rub them with costly ointment; at night he had to lay them on silken cushions and cover them with beautiful embroideries. He had also to attend to a little dog, though there was less fuss made about its comfort. For some time Mouk was quite happy, for he had plenty to eat and little to do. Then he began to feel tired of it all. When Ahavzi went out for a walk, the cats were very troublesome; they raced round and round the room as if possessed, threw things down and broke several beautiful goblets which were in their way. But when they heard their mistress returning they became quite well-behaved again, and as if they never thought of mischief. And when Ahavzi saw her room in such disorder, she threw all the blame on little Mouk, scolded or beat him, no matter how much he protested his innocence. That he had not found good fortune here, as he had hoped, troubled Little Mouk. He decided to leave the old woman's service; but ere doing so very much wished to discover the mystery of a room into which Ahavzi continually went, but which she always kept locked, whether she was at home or not. One morning, when she had gone out, and Mouk was wondering how he could get into this room, the little dog, who had become attached to him, pulled him by his knickerbockers as if to say, "Follow me." Mouk, who loved to play with the dog, went with him, and the dog led him through a secret door into the chamber about which he had felt so curious. With great interest he looked around, but could see nothing but old clothes and wonderfully shaped goblets. One of these was of crystal, carved with beautiful figures. He took it in his hand to look more closely at it. But, oh horror ! He dropped it, and it broke into a thousand atoms. Mouk stood for a while quite terror-stricken. Now his course was clear. He must get away at once, or the old woman would beat him to death. As he was leaving the room, the dog whispered to him: "Take that big pair of slippers, and the walking-stick with the lion's head, and your fortune is made." Quickly Mouk took off his shoes, and put on the huge slippers; took also the walking-stick with the lion's head, rushed out of the room, put his coat on, set his father's turban on his head, stuck his dagger in his waistband, and ran out of the house and the town. And he ran so much faster than he had ever run in all his life, yet was unable to stop, a secret power seemed forcing him along. At last he noticed that the slippers seemed to take him where they wished. He tried several times to stop; but could not, until he cried in despair, "Oh ! Oh ! Stop ! Oh !" Then the slippers stopped, and Mouk threw himself exhausted on the ground and slept heavily. While he slept, he dreamt that the little dog whispered in his ear: "Dear little Mouk, turn yourself once on the heel of your right slipper, then you can fly wherever you will; and with the cane you can discover where treasure is hidden. For gold, strike the earth three times; for silver twice." As soon as Mouk awoke, he thought of his dream; so he put on his slippers, raised the left foot, and began to turn on the right heel. Immediately he fell and bruised his nose. At last he thought of the magic cane; and thus aided turned easily on heel, wishing himself in a large town far away, and behold, the slippers rose up with him, and took him swiftly through the air. Before the little "airship" could well understand this magic, Mouk found himself in the town, and right in front of the King's Palace. Beneath its entrance gate stood the Captain of the Guard, who asked him what he wanted. Mouk replied that he "might probably become chief runner to the King." "You, with your little feet and dwarfish body?" said the Captain of the Guard, laughing. "Go away, I am not here to joke with fools !" But when Mouk assured him that he was in earnest, the overseer went and told the King about the little man and his desire. The King, a jovial person, ordered that his subjects should meet in the large grounds behind the Castle, and that a competition should be held which he with his Court would attend. As soon as possible all who could were hastening to the spot where the course was marked out, in order to see the boastful little dwarf run. The King with his sons and daughters had the chief places; and when they were seated, Little Mouk with his competitors, who were the best runners in the Court, presented themselves before the King with great ceremony. A universal shout of amusement went up when every one saw the funny little man, for no one so eccentric had ever been to their town. But the competition had scarcely begun ere their laughter was turned to a wondering surprise. Mouk gave each of his opponents several yards start, yet even in his huge slippers he passed them easily and stood waiting at the winning post, while they ran in panting for breath. Lustily the crowd applauded the winner, and cried, "Long live Little Mouk, the champion runner !" The King, however, called him up and said: "Little Mouk, you shall be my high Court runner, and always be near my person. You shall have one hundred gold pieces as a reward, and each day shall eat at table with my courtiers." Little Mouk thought that at last his good fortune was assured. But he soon perceived that the courtiers were jealous of the favour shown him by the King. This made him sad, and he bethought himself how he could gain their friendship. Pondering deeply, he walked one evening in an outlying part of the Castle gardens. He happened to have his walking-stick in his hand. Suddenly he felt it knock his hand, and then tap the ground three times. With his dagger he made a mark on the nearest tree and returned to the Castle. So soon as night fell, he took a spade and went to the spot to dig for the gold. After long digging he found a pot which contained many golden ducats. Little Mouk took as many as he could safely carry away, then covered up the hole carefully, and took his treasure to his chamber and hid it beneath his pillow. The next day he divided the gold liberally between the courtiers, thinking thereby to make friends of them. But he was mistaken: for when the courtiers saw he had so much money, they were more jealous than ever. "He is a magician," said one. "No," said another; "he is a stupid bungler, and has stolen this money from the King's coffer; there has been a large sum missing for several days." When the King heard about it, he ordered that a secret watch be set on Little Mouk, so as to catch him in the act of stealing. So when night came, and Mouk, spade in hand, went to fetch some more gold pieces he was followed by Ahuli, the major-domo, and Archaz, the treasurer, and just as he was taking the money out of the jar and hiding it in his jacket, they seized him and led him before the King. As they rather rudely disturbed his slumbers, the King received his poor Runner-in-Chief to the Court very ungraciously. The spies had brought with them the jar which was in the ground and the jacket wherein the gold was wrapped and laid them at the King's feet, The treasurer said also that he had, while watching, seen Mouk at once find the spot where this gold was buried. The King asked the little dwarf if this were true, and whence he obtained the gold which he had buried. Little Mouk in the fulness of his misery said that he had discovered this jar in the garden, that he had not buried it there first. The bystanders laughed loudly at this confession, but the King, though much amused at the simplicity of the dwarf, said: "What, you miserable wretch! You think your King is stupid enough to believe these lies ! What ho ! Treasurer Archaz ! I desire you to say if this sum of money tallies with that missing from my treasury." The treasurer answered he knew for certain that as much and more had been missing from the treasury for a long time, and he could swear that this had been stolen. Then the King commanded Little Mouk to be put in an iron cage and confined in one of the towers. But the treasurer must first count the gold. When, however, the jar was emptied before the King's eyes, to the surprise of every one there fell out a paper on which was written, "Whoever finds this treasure shall be pardoned by my son. Signed, King Said." King Said, the father of the reigning lord, had buried this treasure during a war, without being able before his death to tell his son about it. The King was so convinced that Little Mouk had been conspired against, that he ordered the treasurer to be hanged, as he believed that he had stolen the money from the royal coffers. To Little Mouk the King said: "I will give you your freedom, if you will tell me the secret of you running power." Little Mouk admitted that his power lay in his slippers, but the secret of turning three times on the right heel he did not disclose. The King slipped on the shoes to try if it were true, and ran round and round the garden like a madman. He longed to stop, but did not know how to keep the shoes from running; and Little Mouk let the King continue till he fell fainting from exhaustion. When the King recovered consciousness, he was naturally furious with Little Mouk. "I have promised you your freedom," he said, "but within twelve hours you must leave this kingdom, or I will hang you on the same gallows as the treasurer." So poor Little Mouk wandered away, poorer far than when he came; for his slippers and his stick were taken from him and placed in the King's treasure chamber. As he walked along he came to a thick wood, through which ran a brook overshadowed by fig-trees. Here he lay down to wait for the day. As he watched the ripe figs which swung from the branches, he murmured a blessing and picked and eat the delicious fruit. Then he went to the brook to quench his thirst. But he started back in alarm when he saw his reflection. His head had now two huge ears and a long, thick nose. Horrified, he grasped his ears with both hands. It seemed as if they were a quarter of a yard long. "I have got ass's ears," he cried, "because like an ass I trod my luck under foot." Thinking deeply he went along under the shade of the trees: and as he still felt hungry he picked and ate some more figs, but from another tree. After a while, he thought he would try to tuck his long ears inside his turban; but when he felt for them, they had disappeared. Hastily he returned to the brook to examine his looks; and saw to his delight that his own nose and ears were as before. Now he perceived that the figs had two properties: one sort disfigured his face, the other cured the disfigurement. At once he had a lucky thought. He picked from both trees as many figs as he could carry, and went into the nearest town. Here he bought a, flaxen beard and some colouring for his face which completely disguised him, and so went back to the capital of the King, his late master, and sat himself down before the door of the Palace. He had not waited long before the major-domo came along, who was much pleased with the fruit, and said it should be served at the royal table. The King was very delighted with his dinner that night, and frequently praised the major-domo for his excellent catering, and for the quality and variety of the dishes. The major - domo, however, thinking of the figs, only smiled and said, "All's well that ends well," "The evening is sometimes finer than the afternoon," and quoted other wise saws; so that the Princesses became quite curious to know what surprise he had in store. When the figs were brought every one exclaimed, "Oh ! What fine fruit !" "How delicious !" cried the King. "Major-domo, you are a treasure, and worthy of our highest commendation !" In his delight the King served the dessert with a lavish hand. Each Prince and Princess had two figs each, the Court ladies and viziers one each. The remainder the King reserved for himself. "But, my dear father !" cried the Princess Amaza, "how strange you look !" Every one looked at the King, amazed. Frightful ears hung each side of his head, and a long nose stuck out from his face. But not only he, but all who had eaten the figs were also disfigured in the same way. Their horror when the courtiers discovered their condition, can only be imagined. The King sent at once for all the doctors in the city, but their pills and mixtures did no good, and if they cut the ears and noses off, they quickly grew again. Now was Little Mouk's opportunity. He first of all disguised himself, put on a long gown, and had himself brought to the King as one who could cure the nose and ears illness. At first no one would believe him; when, however, one of the Princesses ventured to eat a healing fig and immediately regained her former looks, every one wished to consult the strange doctor. The King led Mouk into his treasure chamber and said: "Here are my treasures; choose what you will, only cure me of this hateful disease." Mouk had noticed immediately his slippers and his stick. He walked slowly round the chamber and pretended to be choosing something; at last he came to his slippers, and hastily putting them on and seizing his stick, he tore off his false beard and showed the astonished King who he really was. "Faithless King," cried he, "with ingratitude have you treated me. I leave you your long nose and ass's ears as a souvenir." Then he turned three times round on his right heel, wished himself far away, and before the King could call for help, he was gone. Where Little Mouk wished to go, no one ever knew; but it is certain that with the help of his stick, he became a rich man. And with his wealth he returned in time to his own native city, and lived in an eccentric manner until his death; and, as I told you at the beginning of the story, only went out once a month, and then much to the delight of the street boys, owing to his droll figure and extraordinary Costume. TO feel one is appreciated is always delightful; and so thought Labakan, a journeyman tailor, who worked for a very worthy master in Alexandria. No one could say that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he was an excellent worker. And it would have been equally unjust to have called him idle, for he would often sew hour after hour with such rapidity that his needle and thread simply flew through the stuff. But there were days when he seemed to be deep in thought, and would sit with vacant eyes, and was so eccentric in manner that his master and fellow-workmen used to say, "Labakan has put on his superior air !" On Friday, however - the Mohammedan Sunday - when other people after attending Mosque were quietly returning to their houses or their work, Labakan in his best clothes walked slowly and with dignity through the market-place and streets of the city; and when his friends cried, "Peace be with you, Labakan," or, "How are you, friend Labakan?" he graciously waved his hand, or nodded condescendingly. And when his master would say jokingly, "You ought to be a prince, Labakan !" he was delighted, and answered, "Then you have realised it too," or, "I think so myself." His master pardoned his foolishness because Labakan, besides being a valuable servant, was a very decent fellow. One day Prince Selim, the Sultan's brother, who was travelling through Alexandria, sent a handsome coat to be altered. This was handed to Labakan. When evening came, and both master and men had left business, Labakan remained behind, and looked longingly at the beautifully embroidered silken thing. He could not resist the desire to try it on; and, lo, it fitted him splendidly. "Am I not as good a prince as Selim?" he asked himself. "Did not the master say I ought to have been born a prince?" In putting on the coat Labakan seemed to have put on quite a noble air; and he persuaded himself that he was an unknown king's son, and the thought possessed him to go out into the world away from a place where the people were so stupid as not to recognise his true position. That splendid coat, he argued, was surely the gift of a good fairy, and he took his modest belongings and passed in the gathering twilight through the gates of Alexandria. But the new Prince soon perceived that his fine coat and dignified demeanour were not well suited for walking; so for a modest sum he bought an old nag, for he was not an experienced rider, and feared he could not properly manage a fiery steed. One day as he was slowly riding along, a traveller begged to be allowed to bear him company. The new-corner was a pleasant young man, good-looking and well set up. He questioned Labakan closely as to where he was going and whence he came, and found that their way lay in the same direction. The young man said his name was Omar, and that he was the nephew of Elfi Bey, the unfortunate Pasha of Cairo, and he was going to that city to carry out a mission entrusted him by his dying uncle. Labakan was not so frank; he simply told Omar that he was of high rank and was travelling for pleasure. On the second day of their journeyings Labakan asked his companion some particulars of his business, and heard as follows: Elfi Bey, the Pasha of Cairo, had brought Omar up from his earliest childhood; and his parents were unknown to him. But Elfi Bey had lately been engaged in a war, and after several battles had been mortally wounded and compelled to fly, so he told his foster-child that he was not his nephew, but the son of a mighty ruler of provinces who, in consequence of the baleful predictions of an astrologer, had sent the young Prince away on the understanding that he should return when he was twenty-one. Elfi Bey had never told him his father's name, only that on the fourth day of the coming month, Ramadan, on which he would come of age, he was to present himself on an appointed place, El-Serujah, four days' ride eastwards from Alexandria, and show the men he would find there his dagger, saying at the same time, "Here am I whom ye seek !" If they answered, "Praise be the Prophet, who preserved thee !" he could safely go with them, and they would conduct him to his father. Labakan was much surprised at his story. He looked at Omar with envious eyes, and reflected on the strange freaks of fate which had in this instance brought into intimacy a prince and a journeyman. All that day he thought of little else, all night could get little rest, and when he awoke and his glance fell on Omar, who was sleeping soundly, he suddenly thought he would try to obtain, by strategy or strength, the position for which fate had evidently intended him. The dagger, which was to be the sign-manual of the returning Prince, was stuck in Omar's waistband; and very gently Labakan took it, set it in his own belt, got astride the Prince's horse, and before Omar awoke to the consciousness of his misfortune the treacherous tailor was many miles on the way. It was exactly the first day of Ramadan when Labakan thus robbed the Prince; and he had just four days' time to reach the appointed spot. Possibly two days' hard riding would suffice, so he hastened on, as he feared the real Prince might overtake him. At the end of the second day Labakan saw the monument. It stood on a little hill, and he could reach it in less than three hours. The false Prince was in a more sober state of mind. During the last two days he had had time to think over the role he was assuming; and his conscience had reproached him more than once; but the thought that he was born to be a prince encouraged him again, and with great glee he determined to follow out his own ideas. The ground was rough and uneven; and the new Prince encamped beneath some palm-trees to await his fate. Towards the middle of the next day he saw a long train of horses and camels coming slowly along. They halted at the foot of the hill, and Labakan saw that many of the Prince's people had come to meet him. He would have liked to declare himself at once, but he had to wait a little longer to attain the height of his ambition. The rays of the morning sun awoke the excited tailor early on the auspicious day, which was to raise him from lowly estate to that of the honoured son of a noble father. In spite of misgivings, he felt that, in person at least, he was any man's equal; and fortified by this reflection he sprang on his horse, urged it to a gallop, and in less than a quarter of an hour was at the foot of the hill. Here he dismounted, and fastened his horse to a tree; drew out Prince Omar's dagger, mounted the hill, and found six men assembled at the base of the monument. In their midst was a kingly-looking figure. A splendid kaftan of cloth of gold, a white burnous, a white turban glittering with jewels, showed him to be a man of position and power. To him Labakan went, and bowing low said, as he handed him the dagger: "I am he whom ye seek !" "Praised be Allah, who has preserved you !" answered the greybeard with tears of joy. "Embrace thy old father, my dear son Omar !" The tailor was quite overcome on hearing these affectionate words, and with a curious feeling of joy and contrition threw himself into the arms of the old Prince. But only for one moment did he enjoy the bliss of his new position. As he raised himself from that embrace, he saw a rider rapidly approaching. Labakan recognised his old nag Murva, and seated on his back was the rightful son, Prince Omar. But the spirit of evil stood Labakan in good stead, and he determined, if necessary, to brazen out his venture. It could plainly be seen that the rider in the distance was waving a handkerchief. And when he reached the foot of the hill he ran rather than walked up it. "Wait," he cried, breathlessly; "wait if you can; and do not be deceived by a shameless adventurer ! I am Omar; and no impostor shall dare to assume my name." Nothing but amazement was to be seen on the countenances of the bystanders; even the old chieftain seemed bewildered as he gazed from one to another. Labakan, however, said quietly, but impressively: "Gracious lord and dear father, do not be deceived by this young man. He is, I know it well, a half-witted tailor of Alexandria, named Labakan, and deserves pity rather than punishment." Boiling with rage, Omar sprang at Labakan, but the bystanders closed in and held him fast, and the old Prince said: "Surely enough, my son, the fellow is irresponsible. He shall be bound and set on a came!, so that we may get him examined and well cared for." The Prince's passion was exhausted; and weeping, he exclaimed: "O my lord, my heart tells me you are my father. I beseech you by the memory of my mother, listen to me !" "Listen to him," said the chieftain. "He begins to romance again !" And taking Labakan by the arm, they descended the hill together, and mounting splendidly caparisoned horses, rode away. The unhappy Prince's hands were bound, and he was placed on a camel and carefully guarded all the journey by two horsemen. The old man was Saand, Sultan of Wechabi. After many married years, to his great joy, a son was born to him But the astrologer whom he consulted at the child's birth, told him that until his twenty-first year danger threatened the boy, so the Sultan sent his much-loved infant son to Elfi Bey, an old and trusted friend, to be educated and cared for until he came of age. This the old Sultan related to his pretended son, with whose appearance he seemed to be well pleased. When they had at last reached the principal city, they were received by the residents with cries of joy, for the return of the young Prince had been eagerly awaited. Through the streets they passed, and beneath arches wreathed with flowers and ribbons. Splendid draperies hung from the windows of the houses, and the people praised Allah and the Prophet that their Prince was so handsome. All this rejoiced the heart of the tailor. But how unhappy was the lot of the real Prince, to whom all this homage belonged I as a prisoner and bound be rode in the procession. No one troubled about him. Omar's name resounded on all sides, but he passed unnoticed save that a few people asked who he was and where they were taking him, receiving for answer simply, "Oh, he is a half-witted tailor." The procession soon reached the Palace, where every splendour was perfected. In the state apartments, the Sultana, a noble lady, surrounded by courtiers, awaited their arrival. She had not seen her son since his birth, so would not recognise him in a thousand. Nearer and nearer came the procession; the horses' hoofs were heard in the courtyard; and steps were heard in the corridor; the doors were thrown open and through the crowd of humbly-bowing servants, the Sultan, holding Labakan by the hand, hastened to the steps of the throne. "Here," cried he, "I bring you one for whom your heart has yearned." But the Sultana had hardly looked at the usurper when she exclaimed: "That is not my son ! That is the impostor whom the Prophet warned me of in a dream !" And while the Sultan was endeavouring to convince her that she was wrong, the door of the room was hastily opened and Prince Omar rushed in followed by his guards. He then threw himself all breathless before the throne and cried: "Here will I die ! Let me die, mighty father, for I cannot endure this shame any longer !" This speech caused the greatest surprise. The courtiers stared at the unhappy youth, and his guards would have seized and bound him had not the Sultana, who had been silent with amazement, stepped down from the throne. "Stop," cried she. "This and no other is my son; though my eyes never beheld him, my heart tells me he is my child." The guards had unwillingly loosed Omar, but now the Sultan, furious with passion, ordered them to "take the idiot away !" "It is I, who am to be first obeyed," said he in haughty tones. "Here we are not influenced by dreams, but by unmistakable signs." He signed Labakan to come forward. "This is my son, for when he gave me the dagger, he also gave me my old friend Elfi's word in proof." "He stole the dagger from me," cried Omar. "My unhappy lot he has shamelessly caused." But the Sultan would not listen to the voice of his son, so accustomed was he to consider himself always in the right. So poor Omar was overpowered and taken from the throne-room. And then the Sultan led Labakan to his room. The Sultana was wild with grief over all that had happened, for she was sure than an impostor had gained the heart of the Sultan, and that Omar's was the face she had seen so often in her dreams. When she became calmer she bethought herself how to convince her husband of his mistake. It was not easy, for besides possessing the dagger Labakan seemed to know so much about the Prince's life as to give quite a reasonable account of it, and his word was counted worthier than the prisoner's. She sent for the courtiers who had accompanied El-Serujah to the meeting-place, made them tell her everything, and then took counsel with her most-trusted slave-women. They carefully considered all that bad been said; and at last Melechsalah, a clever, shrewd old woman, said: "Have I correctly heard, your Highness, that the half-witted tailor you believe to be your son is named Labakan?" "They say so," answered the Sultana. "But what of that?" "Suppose," said the slave, "that this impostor has taken your son's name and given him his ! If this be so, I know of a capital plan to put things right." The slave held a whispered conversation with her mistress, and then assisted her to dress, and they went to the Sultan. The Sultana was a clever woman. She knew argument would not convince her husband, so said she had a favour to ask him. The Sultan, whose impatience with his wife was now over, granted it at once, and she said: "I very much want to put these two young men to a test, so as to see which really is the impostor; but it shall neither be riding, nor fighting, nor throwing the spear; I will only put them to a technical proof. To each of them shall be given a kaftan and pair of trousers to make, and we shall soon see which is tailor, which is Prince." The Sultan laughed, and said: "Really, you are a very clever woman. Above all, I feel curious to see how much cloth my son will waste." He went himself, however, to Labakan, and begged him to curry favour with his mother by consenting to make a kaftan. Labakan laughed heartily; this would be an easy task. Two rooms were set apart, one for the Prince, the other for the tailor. In them were put the articles necessary for their work. For each a roll of cloth, a needle, scissors, and thread. The Sultan was particularly anxious to see what sort of a kaftan his son would make in the time. And even the Sultana's heart beat faster as she thought of all that depended on the success of her plan. For two days the young men were occupied. The third day, when the Sultan and Sultana were sitting together, they sent for the youths. Labakan stepped proudly forward, and showed his kaftan to the astonished pair. "See, father," he cried. "Look, my honoured mother, if this kaftan is not a masterpiece. I defy the Court tailor to make a better one." The Sultana smiled, and said to Omar: "And now show us your handiwork, my son !" Omar laid the roll of cloth and the scissors at his parent's feet. "I was taught to bridle a horse, to handle a sword, or to hurl a lance," said he, "but not to do needlework. That was unworthy of a protégé of Elfi Bey, the ruler of Cairo !" "Oh, you true son of my body !" cried the Sultana. "Oh, let me embrace you, for you are my son. See, my lord and courtiers," said she, turning to the Sultan, "how my plan has succeeded. Do you not now believe which is Prince and which is tailor? Nevertheless, this is a valuable kaftan, sire, for your son has made it. I would like to know to whom he was apprenticed !" The Sultan seemed deep in thought, mistrusting his wife, and looking at Labakan, who was trying to make his escape. "This test is not sufficient" said the Sultan. "I also have an idea; we will wait and see." So he ordered his swiftest horse to be brought and rode to a far-off forest in which dwelt a wise woman named Adolzaide, who lived in a hollow tree. When he arrived at the clearing he shouted in a loud voice: "If it be true that your advice guided my father in the hour of need, do not refuse to help me now when I am sore perplexed." He had hardly spoken the last words when a cedar-tree trunk opened and a lovely fairy appeared. "I know what brings you here, Sultan Saand; your desire is honourable, so you shall have my help. Take these two caskets. Let each of the young men choose one. I know that the true Omar will make no mistake." Then the fairy gave him the little caskets beautifully set with gold and pearls, and disappeared from his gaze. On each lid was an inscription in diamonds. "Honour and Truth" ran the one, and "Happiness and Inheritance" the other. Directly the Sultan returned to the Palace he sent for his wife and told her what the fairy had said. On this test the Sultana had also great confidence. She felt sure that the one to whom her heart inclined would choose the casket which had the worthiest motto. Before the Sultan's throne two tables were set; and on these the Sultan placed the caskets, mounted his throne, and signed to the slaves to open the doors of the chamber. A brilliant train of Pashas and Emirs entered and seated themselves on the crimson divans against the walls. The King made another sign and Labakan appeared. With haughty steps he reached the dais and throwing himself before the throne, said: "What is my worthy father's wish?" The Sultan raised his head and spoke: "My son, there is still a doubt in some people's minds as to who you are. This must be settled once for all. In one of these caskets there is the register of your birth. Choose one. I know you will choose aright !" Labakan went to the tables, and pondered long which casket to choose. At last he said : "Honoured father ! What can be better than the happiness of being your son; what nobler than the kingdom of your approval? I choose the casket with the inscription 'Happiness and Inheritance.' Omar was then brought in. His sad looks, his unhappy mien attracted the attention of all who beheld him. He threw himself down before the throne and asked what were the Sultan's commands. He was told to choose one of the caskets. Thoughtfully he read the inscriptions and then said: "During the last few days I have learnt the uncertainty of happiness; how doubtful the joys of inheritance; but I have also learnt that honour lives only in the hearts of the brave, and truth does not always dwell with success. And even if I thus lose my throne, I choose 'Honour and Truth." Then he laid his hand on the casket he had chosen, but the Sultan bade him wait. And to Labakan he made a sign to keep his casket. Then the Sultan called for a beaker of water from the holy river of Zem Zem in Mecca, and washed his hands, turned his face to the east, and prayed thus: "God of my fathers! Thou who hast preserved my race pure and unsullied, do not permit that one unworthy of the name of Abassiden shall succeed me, but guide and protect my rightful son, who shall soon be known beyond doubt." The Sultan rose and mounted his throne again, and his signal was impatiently awaited. The spectators could hardly breathe; the fall of a seed could have been heard, so still and quiet were they all. Then the Sultan said: "Open the caskets." And at the slightest pressure the lids flew open. In Omar's casket was a golden crown and sceptre. In Labakan's a large needle and a little thread. The Sultan commanded them to bring him the caskets. First he took the crown in his hand and admired its design, for he perceived that it expanded to the size of a full crown; then he set it on his real son's head, and kissed him on the forehead, and bade him sit on his right hand. To Labakan, however, he said: "There is an old proverb, 'The shoemaker must stick to his last.' It seems as if you are destined to the needle. You are far from deserving my consideration; but some one has pleaded for you, and I cannot punish you as you deserve; so I give you your wretched life. But let me also advise you to go away from my country as quickly as you can !" Ashamed, humbled, and despised, the poor tailor had nothing to say. He threw himself before the Prince and his eyes filled with tears. "Can you forgive me, Prince?" he stammered. "'Be faithful to your friends, generous to your enemies,' this is the Abassiden motto," answered the Prince, raising Labakan. "Go in peace." "Oh, you are indeed my son !" cried the old father, embracing Omar. Then the Emirs and Pashas and all their followers stood up and shouted: "Hail, hail, hail to the Prince; the King's son !" And during these rejoicings Labakan, with his casket under his arm, slipped out of the Palace. He went to the Sultan's stables and took his old nag, Murva, and rode as quickly as he could through the gates and back to Alexandria. Like a brief splendid dream his princehood lay behind him, and only the beautiful casket set with diamonds and pearls reminded him that it had really happened. When he came to the shop kept by his old master he dismounted and went inside. His master, who did not recognise him, bowed low before him and asked what he desired. But as he looked more closely, he recognised Labakan, and called his workmen to come and look at him. They did not at once see who it was, and were all perplexed and puzzled; and the poorest of them all was so bewildered that he hurried in with iron and measure, needle and scissors, and bowed and scraped until he fell exhausted on a heap of old clothes. The worthy master however, rated him soundly for stealing the kaftan. Labakan assured him that he had only come to return it; but no one believed him, and they set upon him and thumped and beat him and pushed him outside the door. So beaten and bruised the unlucky wretch got on his old horse and rode to a wayside inn. There he lay his tired head down, and thought on the uncertainty of happiness and the vanity of earthly things; and fell asleep, determined to give up his dreams of greatness and to diligently follow his rightful occupation. His adventures he did not regret. He disposed of his casket to a jeweller for a large sum of money, bought himself a house, and started in business, and hung a large sign over the door, "Labakan, tailor." First of all the industrious fellow began to repair his coat, which was much damaged when he was so hustled and bustled, using for this purpose the fairy's needle and thread. Some one called just as he had begun, and as he sat himself down again to work, a wonderful surprise awaited him. The needle was sewing as if guided by an unseen hand, and making such stitches as Labakan himself could not compass. And, better than all, the thread never came to an end, and he said to himself, "Even a modest gift from a fairy can be useful in great work !" Labakan got many customers, and was soon the most famous tailor far and near. He cut the garments out, made the first stitch with the magic needle, which flew in and out till the thing was finished, and his business rapidly increased, for he worked so well and so absurdly cheap that the people of Alexandria wondered how he could do without assistants. But he kept his door locked and said nothing. So after all the motto of his casket was true. If in somewhat different guise, Happiness and Inheritance was his lot, for he was a most successful tailor. And when he heard the universal praises of the young Sultan Omar, who had won the love and pride of his people, and the respect of his enemies, the once-upon-a-time Prince would say to himself; "I am better off as a tailor, for Honour and Truth are difficult things." So he lived long, contented with his condition, and if the magic needle has not lost its cunning it still is sewing with its endless thread, the gift of the good fairy Adolzaide. IN a well-known town in Germany there lived for many years a shoemaker and his wife. He mended boots and shoes and made new ones when he had money to buy the leather, and she sold fruit and vegetables which she grew in their little garden. Many customers came to her stall in the market-place, being attracted by her neat appearance, and the way she arranged her wares. This worthy couple had one boy, named Jacob; he was eight years old, handsome and well-grown. He helped his mother at the stall and sometimes carried home the customers' purchases. One day, as the shoemaker's wife was sitting in the market-place, and little Jacob stood near calling out the prices of her vegetables, there came along an old woman, rather shabbily dressed, with a thin, pinched face, red eyes, and a long pointed nose. She leant on a long staff, and hobbled and halted as if her feet were covered with corns, and she looked as if every moment she might tumble on her nose. "Are you Hannah, the vegetable woman?" asked she, wagging her head. "Let me see if you have what I want." With her ugly brown hands she turned and tumbled the cabbages about, breaking their leaves; with her long, skinny fingers she poked here and there. When she had disarranged all the baskets, she grumbled "Bad stuff, wretched cabbages - much better to be had fifty years ago; bad stuff !" These remarks made little Jacob angry, and he cried: "Listen, you horrid old woman; you call our vegetables 'bad stuff,' and with your long nose you sniff and smell at them so that no one else will care to buy them; but all the same the Grand Duke's cook buys all he wants of us !" The old woman looked at the bonny boy, and answered hotly: "My lad, my nose seems to please you. You shall have one like it, but longer still !" She picked over the cauliflowers again, and threw them back into the basket, muttering: "Bad cauliflowers, bad stuff !" "Make up your mind what you want," returned the shoemaker's wife, indignant at the waste of time. "That were better than talking nonsense to my boy !" "I will take these six cauliflowers," said the old woman; "but I cannot carry them home. Let your boy come along with me and I will pay him for his trouble." The boy did not want to go; but his mother persuaded him, for she thought it would be wrong to let the feeble old dame carry such a load, and half crying, Jacob went. The old dame walked slowly, and it was quite an hour before they reached a little house outside the town. She opened the door, and Jacob was quite surprised when he entered; for inside the house was beautiful. The walls and staircases were of marble, the furniture ebony inlaid with gold, the floors of glass so highly polished that Jacob slipped and fell. The old woman took a whistle out of her pocket, blew it, and immediately some guinea-pigs came in, and Jacob noticed with amusement that they wore men's clothes and walked on their hind legs. "Where are my slippers?" shrieked the old woman, shaking her stick at them, so that they were quite frightened. They came back again directly with two cocoa-nut shells soled with leather, and the old woman put them on. Now she began to bustle about. She took Jacob by the hand and went quickly across the glass floor. At last she took him into a room something like a kitchen. "Sit down, little man," said she, pushing him into the corner of a couch. "You have had a heavy load to carry. Men's heads are not light." "What do you mean?" cried the boy. "They were cauliflowers I brought here." "Now you know that is a lie," laughed the old woman; and took a man's head out of the basket. The boy was dreadfully frightened, for he thought if this got known his mother would be in sore trouble. "I must give you a little present," said the old woman; "wait a moment and you shall have some delicious soup." She whistled; and there entered several guinea-pigs in men's clothes, with aprons on and cooking spoons stuck through their waistbelts; after them came several squirrels in white Turkish trousers; they also walked on their hind legs and wore green velvet caps on their heads. They bustled about and brought saucepans and dishes; and the old woman ran hither and thither in her cocoa-nut slippers, and Jacob saw she was evidently going to give him something good to eat. At last something in one of the pots began to boil over, and the smell filled the room. She took it off the fire, poured the contents into a silver soup tureen, and said: "Now, sonny, if you drink this soup, you will have all that you admire in me. And you might also become an excellent cook, only that you will never be able to find the particular cabbage of which it is made. Why does your mother not keep it on her stall?" The boy hardly understood what she, meant; but he drank the soup eagerly and it tasted delicious. His mother had often made good things for him to eat, but nothing like this. While he was drinking the last spoonful, the whistle sounded for the guinea-pigs, and thick clouds of smoke began to fill the room. The fumes of the smoke confused little Jacob; he wanted to get away; he said he ought to' be going back to his mother; but he seemed unable to move, and fell back on the couch and went fast asleep. Wonderful dreams came to him. It seemed to him that he was changed into a squirrel, and he went about with the squirrels and guinea-pigs and had his duties like the others. At first he had to work as a shoemaker. As he had often helped his father he did not find that difficult. After a time, pleasanter work was given him. He had to go with some of the squirrels to get sunberries. The old dame preferred a certain sort; and as she had no teeth, she made her dinner off bread and sunberries. After a year he was set to find drinking-water for the old woman. This was done in many different ways. The squirrels and Jacob had to fill the hazel nutshells with dew from the roses, and that was her drinking-water. As she was always thirsty, her water-carriers had plenty to do. After another year he had indoors work to do; chiefly to keep the glass floors clean. He had to sweep them and then tie his feet up in cloths and so dust them. In four years' time he was put in the kitchen, and Jacob, from being scullery boy, became head pastry-cook, and his skill was so great that he was sometimes surprised; for pasties of two hundred different flavours, and the most delicate cabbage soups, he could make with greatest ease. After he had been seven years in the old woman's service it happened one day, when she had gone out with basket and staff, that Jacob had to draw a fowl and stuff and roast it before she came back. In the herb-room he suddenly noticed a cupboard he had not seen before. He looked in it and found inside a great many baskets of herbs. He opened one and found a herb of a quite different colour. He looked carefully at it; it smelt strong, and like the soup that the old woman had given to him on his first day there. But the smell was so strong that he began to sneeze, and sneeze and sneeze, until at last - sneezing he awoke. He was lying on the old woman's sofa and looked bewildered around. "What strange things dreams are !" said he. "I could have sworn that I had been a squirrel; and as squirrel a clever cook. How my mother will laugh when I tell her : but how she will scold me for sleeping away from home, instead of helping her. His limbs were stiff with long sleeping, and so was his neck, and every moment when he moved he either hit the wall with his nose, or when he turned over banged it against the doorpost. The squirrels and guinea-pigs ran busily here and there as if they would accompany him, but they gave it up as they saw him leave the house, and took their nutshells inside and by-and-by he heard them chattering in the distance. He felt very anxious as he got near the market. His mother sat in her usual place and had plenty of vegetables in her baskets; he could not have slept long; but it seemed to him that she was very sad, for instead of calling to the passers-by, she sat with her head resting on her hand; and as he came nearer, he saw she was looking paler than usual. At last he plucked up heart and said, "Mother, are you angry with me?" His mother turned round, and shrieked with fright. "Go away, horrid dwarf," said she; "I do not like such jokes." "Dear little mother, look at me. I am Jacob, your son !" "Now, this is really too much," cried Hannah; "there stands a hideous dwarf, who says, 'I am your son, your Jacob.' For shame !" Then all the market-women came to try and comfort this poor Hannah, whose fine boy had been stolen seven years ago. Poor Jacob did not know what to think. They called him a hideous dwarf and spoke of seven years ago ! What had happened to him? When he saw that his mother would have nothing to do with him, he went with tears in his eyes to the booth where his father worked at his shoemaking, and stood by the door and looked in. The master was so busy that he did not notice him, but chancing to look round he cried out, "Good heaven ! what is that? What is that?" "Good day," said Jacob, stepping in; "how are you?" "Badly, little man," answered his father to Jacob's surprise, for it seemed he was not recognised. "I am so lonely, and old, and weak." "Have you no one who can help you?" asked Jacob. "Where is your son?" "God knows !" answered the shoemaker. "Seven years ago he was stolen from the market-place." "Seven years ago !" cried Jacob. "Yes, little man, seven years ago. An ugly old woman came to the market, tumbled about my wife's vegetables, and bought so many that she could not carry them herself. My wife, good soul, sent our boy along with her - and we have never seen him. since." "And is that seven years ago, do you say?" "Seven years next spring. We sought him everywhere the town crier 'cried' him, but all to no purpose." So spoke Jacob's father, and returned to his last. The youth realised now that he had not been dreaming, but that for seven years he had worked as a squirrel for the old woman. He stood for some time thinking over his strange fate, and then his father said: "Do you want anything, young man? A pair of slippers, or a case for your nose?" "What is the matter with my nose? Why should I want a case for my nose?" asked Jacob. "If I had such a horrible nose," said the shoemaker, "I should put a red patent leather cover over it. You might do worse, little man !" Jacob was dumb with annoyance. He felt his nose. It was about eight inches long. "Oh, for pity's sake let me look in the glass," said he, "it is not for vanity's sake." "I have not one, but if you want to look in a mirror, go over the way to Barber Urban, he has one as big as your head !" With these words he pushed the youth through the doorway, shut the door, and sat down to work. The boy went sadly across to the barber, whom he knew in years gone by. "Good morning, Urban," cried he. "Will you let me look in your looking-glass?" "With pleasure," laughed the barber. "You are a handsome youth, and a little bit vain, I am thinking." As the barber spoke a ripple of laughter went round the saloon. The dwarf, however, stepped to the glass and looked at himself. Tears came into his eyes. How dreadful he looked ! His eyes were little; his nose hideous, it hung down over his mouth and chin; his head was deep set between his shoulders; his back and chest were humpy, like a well-filled sack. His clumsy body had thin short legs, but his arms were long, his hands brown, his fingers thin and bony, and when he reached them out they touched the floor. He was the most misshapen dwarf ever seen. "Have you gazed long enough, my prince?" said the barber, as he laughingly looked on. "Come, enter my service, little man; you shall have whatever you ask for, if you only stand at my doors every day and invite the people to step in. I shall get more customers, and each will give you a present." Jacob was annoyed at this proposition, but it could not be helped. He told the barber he had no time for such service and went away. He intended, however, to pay a final visit to his mother. He went to the market and begged her to listen to him. He reminded her of the past, and told her that the old woman had turned him into a squirrel, and had kept him there seven years. The shoemaker's wife knew not what to say to this, and thought she had better talk it over with her husband. She went with the dwarf to the shoemaker's bench, and said : "Listen ! This dwarf says he is our long-lost son Jacob, and he has told me how he has been for seven years bewitched." "Wait a moment," said the shoemaker. "I told him all that an hour ago, and now he goes to you with the tale. Take care, boy, or I will have you locked up !" Thus saying, he took a bundle of pieces he had just cut and beat the dwarf over the back and arms so severely that he screamed and ran outside. He found no one who pitied him or took compassion on him; and had to sleep, that night, on the stone steps of the church. When morning came he went into the church and prayed. Then he suddenly remembered that he could easily earn a living as a cook, and that the Grand Duke was fond of eating, and loved a good table. So he went to the Palace. As he passed through its gates the doorkeeper asked what he wanted. He said he was a cook, and that he wished to see the major-domo. When Jacob was taken to his office, the major-domo looked him up and down from head to foot, and said laughing: "So you want to be a cook. Whoever sent you to me has been making a fool of you." The dwarf would not let himself be disheartened. "Where there is plenty to eat," said he, "an egg or two, some flour and sausage, will never be missed; give me a little meal to prepare, and then you will say, 'He is indeed a cook, and no mistake." The dwarf spoke earnestly,' and it was amusing to see how his long nose wagged from side to side, and how he gesticulated with his long thin fingers. "Very well," said the major-domo, "just for fun we will go into the kitchen." It was a large, roomy, well-arranged apartment, fires were burning on twenty hearths, and kitchen utensils of every sort lay about and rubbed shoulders with kettles and pans and spoons and forks. But when the major-domo entered all the servants paused in their work, and the only sound heard was the crackling of the fires. "What has the Grand Duke ordered for his breakfast to-day?" asked the major-domo of an old cook whose position was "head of the breakfast department." "Danish soup and red Hauburg dumpling." "Good," said the major-domo to Jacob. "Do you think you could prepare this difficult meal?" "Nothing easier," answered the dwarf. "For the soup I shall want the fat of a wild swan, turnips and eggs; for the dumpling, however, I shall want four different kinds of meat, some Madeira wine, goose-grease, ginger, and some mixed herbs and marjoram." "What magician has taught you?" cried the cook with astonishment. "We have never even heard of that herb; it must make the dish very much nicer." "Let us put him to the test," said the major-domo; "give him the things that he requires." This they did, and arranged everything on the stove, but found that the dwarf was too short to reach them, so they put two stools together, and laid thereon a marble slab, and invited the little curiosity to begin his cooking. When he had got everything ready he asked them to put both pots on the fire and let them simmer for a certain time; then he called out, "Stop !" The pots were set aside, and the dwarf invited the major-domo to come and taste their contents. The great man marched with dignity to the hearth, tasted, smacked his lips, and said: "Excellent, excellent, upon my soul !" And the head cook shook the dwarf heartily by the hand and said: "You are a veritable master in the art. That herb gives it quite a special flavour." Just then a footman came to say that the Duke was waiting for his breakfast. The food was put on silver dishes and sent to table. The major-domo, however, took the dwarf into his room and entertained him there. They had not been together long before a messenger came to say that the major-domo was to go at once to the Duke. The Grand Duke looked very pleased and stroked his beard. "Well, major-domo," said he, "who cooked my breakfast to-day? It has never been so good since I came into my kingdom. Tell me the name of the cook; we will send him a little present." "My Lord Duke, it is quite a history," said the major-domo, and told him all that had happened. The Grand Duke sent for the dwarf, and asked him who he was and where he came from. The dwarf answered briefly, that he had no parents, and had been taught cooking by an old woman. The Grand Duke asked no more, but made himself very merry over the new cook's comical appearance. "If you can stay with me I will give you every year fifty ducats and a handsome suit of clothes. In return for this you must cook my breakfast every day yourself and keep my kitchen clean. You shall be called 'Longnose' and wear the uniform of a deputy major-domo." "Longnose" fell on his knees before the Grand Duke, and kissed his feet, and promised to serve him faithfully. The dwarf well fulfilled his duties; before he came, the Grand Duke had been sometimes inclined to throw the plates and dishes at the cook's head; but since the dwarf had been in the house everything soon changed. Instead of three meals a day, the Duke ate five, and found everything delicious. He was always good-tempered and got stouter every day. The dwarf was the wonder of the town; people begged for permission to see him at work, and some of the best families obtained leave from the Duke for their servants to take lessons from him, and he earned no small amount of money this way. He gave all this, however, to the other cooks, so that they should not be jealous of him. So "Longnose" lived respected and prosperous, only troubled by the thoughts of his parents' grief; but at the end of his second year's service he had a great stroke of luck. As often as he could find time "Longnose" went to the market-place to buy poultry and fruit. One day at the end of the stalls he saw a woman sitting by a large coop of geese, which seemed not quite the common kind. He went up to her and felt and examined the birds. They seemed satisfactory, and so he bought three. He noticed with some surprise that, while two of the geese gobbled and grunted, the third was quiet and mopish, and sighed heavily like a human being. "It is ill," said he; "I must make haste and cure it !" But the goose suddenly said: "Treat me well, I'll be your friend; Treat me ill, your life shall end !" "Longnose" was so startled that he dropped the coop, and the goose looked at him with soft, sad eyes and sighed. "Why, you can speak !" cried Jacob. "I did not expect this. Do not be so unhappy. I will do all I can to help you. You certainly were not born with feathers on your back !" "That is true," said the goose. "I was not born in this terrible form, but while I was in my cradle it was prophesied that I should end my life in the kitchen of a Grand Duke !" "Do not be alarmed, you poor thing," said the dwarf; "nothing shall happen to you. I will take your coop to my own room, and will tell the major-domo that I am feeding up a goose on special green stuff for the Grand Duke's table, and at the first opportunity I will set you free." The dwarf did all that he had promised. He built up a little cage for the enchanted bird in his own room, saying he wanted to fatten it up on special diet as a surprise for his master. As often as he had time he used to go and chat with her. She told him all her history, and "Longnose" learnt that the goose was called Mimi, and was the daughter of Wetterbock the magician, who lived on the island of Gottland. He had quarrelled with an old fairy, who had revenged herself by turning his daughter into a swan, and bringing her to market. When "Longnose" had listened to her story, she said: "What you have told me about herb magic, and your own transfiguration after smelling a herb, convinces me that you have been bewitched by the perfume of these herbs, and that if you could find the plant used by the old fairy, you could regain your own appearance." Just at this time a very powerful Prince visited the Grand Duke, who sent for "Longnose" and said: "This is an excellent opportunity for you to show what a master cook you are ! The Prince who is coming to stay with me is a connoisseur in food, and a very wise man. See, now, that such meals be served as may quite astonish him. Never serve the same dish twice. You can ask my treasurer for anything you want. I would rather become poor than blush for my table." The little dwarf put all his skill forward. All day long he was to be seen in clouds of smoke from roasting fires, and his words of command were to be heard all through the kitchen. The stranger Prince had been a fortnight at the Castle, and was well feted and flattered. There were always five meals a day, and the Grand Duke was delighted with his cook's skill, when he saw how his guest enjoyed himself. On the fifteenth day the Grand Duke sent for the dwarf, and presented him to the Prince, asking if he was satisfied with his cooking. "You certainly know what is good to eat," said the Prince to "Longnose"; "you have never repeated a dish all the time I have been here; and everything is splendidly served. But why have you delayed sending us a 'Suzeraine' pasty? It is the queen of dishes." "Longnose" had never heard of this queen of pasties, but he answered readily enough: "My Lord, I hoped your gracious visit to this Court would be a long one, and I was waiting to offer this delicacy on the day of your departure." "Why have you never prepared this pasty for me?" cried the Grand Duke. "Think of another parting dish, and let us have the pasty to-morrow." "It shall be as my Lord wishes," replied the dwarf. And he went out feeling as if his luck was over, for he had not the least idea how to make the pasty; and he went to his room and wept. The goose, Mimi, asked what troubled him. "Dry your tears," she said, when he told her; "we often had that pasty at my father's table. I know exactly how it is made, and what you require for it, and if some little thing is left out, no one will be much the wiser." "Longnose" blessed the day when he bought this good little goose, and immediately set to work to make this queen of pasties according to her instructions. He first made a small one, and it tasted delicious, and the major-domo again praised his ability. The next day he sent the pasty to table hot from the oven and decorated with a wreath of flowers; then put on his best suit and went to the dining-hall. As he entered the Court carver had just served both the Prince and Grand Duke with their portions, and on magnificent silver plates. The Grand Duke ate a mouthful, looked at his plate, and said: "Truly this is the queen of pasties, and my dwarf is the king of cooks. Is he not, my friend?" 'The guest took a bite and chewed and tasted, laughing to himself. "The thing is good enough," said he, as he pushed his plate away, "but the 'Suzeraine' it certainly is not; I can answer for that." The Grand Duke frowned with anger and cried: "Dog of a dwarf how dare you trifle with your Lord?" "Heaven knows, my Lord, I have made the pasty according to the best recipe; it must be right," tremblingly answered the dwarf. "It is a lie, you rascal," shouted the Grand Duke, "my guest would not otherwise have found fault. I will have you chopped up and made into a pasty." "Have pity," said the dwarf, throwing himself on his knees before the Prince. "Tell me what is lacking. Do not let me die for a handful of flour and a little bit of meat." "That would not serve any purpose, dear 'Longnose'," answered the Prince, smiling. "This pasty lacks a herb which no one about here knows. It is the herb 'borage,' a notable relish, and without it the pasty has not its true flavour, and neither your master nor I care to eat it !" Then the Grand Duke stormed and raged. "By my soul," he cried, "if you do not bring me the exact pasty to-morrow, your head shall be cut off and fastened on the gate of my Palace. Go, you little wretch. I will give you just twenty-four hours' grace !" The dwarf went weeping from the halt and told the goose of his fate, and that he must die because he had never heard of this herb. "Tell me, my friend, are there any old chestnut-trees near the Castle?" asked the goose. "Yes," answered "Longnose," "by the lake there is a large group; but why do you ask?" "Well, at the foot of old chestnut-trees this herb grows," said Mimi; "so take me under your arm and put me down by the trees, and I will try to find it for you." He took her up and went to the door. But a guard had been placed there and said: "I have orders that you are not to go out of the house." "But I must go in the garden," said "Longnose." "Send one of your fellows to the officer of the Palace and ask if I may go into the garden to look for herbs." The guard did so, and the dwarf received permission to go into the garden. The goose wandered round and round the chestnut-trees, but could not find the herb, and cried with disappointment and sympathy. But the dwarf, who was also looking about, suddenly noticed some trees the other side of the lake and cried: "Over there, there is a large old tree, perhaps we shall be more fortunate." The goose flew along, and he ran after her as quickly as his little legs could carry him; the chestnut-tree threw a deep shadow, and it was so dark beneath its branches that it was difficult to see anything; but the goose suddenly stood still, flapped her wings with joy, and poked her bill into the long grass, and pulled something out, which she handed to the astonished dwarf and said: "This is the herb, a