Abou Hassan wished only to be caliph
for one day, to punish the imaum of the mosque of his quarter,
and the four old men who had displeased him: I have procured him
the means of doing this, and he ought to be content."

In the mean time, Abou Hassan, who was laid upon his sofa by the
slave, slept till very late the next morning. When the powder was
worked off, he awoke, opened his eyes, and finding himself at
home, was in the utmost surprise. "Cluster of Pearls! Morning
Star! Coral Lips! Moon Face!" cried he, calling the ladies of the
palace by their names, as he remembered them; "where are you?
come hither."

Abou Hassan called so loud, that his mother, who was in her own
apartment, heard him, and running to him upon the noise he made,
said "What ails you, son? what has happened to you?" At these
words Abou Hassan lifted up his head, and looking haughtily at
his mother, said, "Good woman! who is it you call son?" "Why
you," answered his mother very mildly; "are not you Abou Hassan
my son? It is strange that you have forgotten yourself so soon."
"I your son! old bull!" replied Abou Hassan; "you are a liar, and
know not what you say! I am not Abou Hassan, I tell you, but the
commander of the faithful!"

"Hold your tongue, son," answered the mother "one would think you
are a fool, to hear you talk thus." "You are an old fool
yourself," replied Abou Hassan; "I tell you once more I am the
commander of the faithful, and God's vicar on earth!" "Ah!
child," cried the mother, "is it possible that I should hear you
utter such words that shew you are distracted! What evil genius
possesses you, to make you talk at this rate? God bless you, and
preserve you from the power of Satan. You are my son Abou Hassan,
and I am your mother."

After she had used all the arguments she could think of to bring
him to himself, and to shew how great an error he was in, she
said, "Do not you see that the room you are now in is your own,
and is not like a chamber in a palace fit for the commander of
the believers? and that you have never left it since you were
born, but lived quietly at home with me. Think seriously of what
I say, and do not fancy things that are not, nor ever can be.
Once more, my son, think seriously of it."

Abou Hassan heard all these remonstrances of his mother very
patiently, holding down his eyes, and clapping his hands under
his chin, like a man recollecting himself, to examine the truth
of what he saw and heard. At