r," said he "for the love of God
be pleased to tell me who is my father?" "My son," she replied,
"Shumse ad Deen Mahummud, who every day caresses you so kindly,
is your father." "You do not tell me truth," returned Agib; "he
is your father, and none of mine. But whose son am I?" At this
question, the lady of beauty calling to mind her wedding night,
which had been succeeded by a long widowhood, began to shed
tears, repining bitterly at the loss of so handsome a husband as
Buddir ad Deen.

Whilst the lady of beauty and Agib were both weeping, the vizier
entered, who demanded the reason of their sorrow. The lady told
him the shame Agib had undergone at school, which so much
affected the vizier that he joined his tears with theirs, and
judging from this that the misfortune which had happened to his
daughter was the common discourse of the town, he was mortified
to the quick.

Being thus afflicted, he went to the sultan's palace, and falling
prostrate at his feet, most humbly intreated permission to make a
journey in search of his nephew Buddir ad Deen Houssun. For he
could not bear any longer that the people of the city should
believe a genie had disgraced his daughter.

The sultan was much concerned at the vizier's affliction,
approved his resolution, and gave him leave to travel. He caused
a passport also to be written for him, requesting in the
strongest terms all kings and princes in whose dominions Buddir
ad Deen might sojourn, to grant that the vizier might conduct him
to Cairo.

Shumse ad Deen, not knowing how to express his gratitude to the
sultan, fell down before him a second time, while the floods of
tears he shed bore sufficient testimony to his feelings. At last,
having wished the sultan all manner of prosperity, he took his
leave and returned to his house, where he disposed every thing
for his journey; and the preparations were carried on with so
much diligence, that in four days after he left the city,
accompanied with his daughter the lady of beauty, and his
grandson Agib.

They travelled nineteen days without intermission; but on the
twentieth, arriving at a pleasant mead, a small distance from the
gate of Damascus, they halted, and pitched their tents upon the
banks of a river which fertilizes the vicinity, and runs through
the town, one of the pleasantest in Syria, once the capital of
the caliphs; and celebrated for its elegant buildings, the
politeness of its inhabitants, and the abundance of