other _chibouk_ was called for. Each
member of the club began to feel himself sufficiently etherealized to
aspire to a position in a Mahomedan heaven, where he could be surrounded
by the spirits of numberless beautiful _houris_, when the attention of
Mr. Spout was attracted to a young gentleman, seated on a divan, in the
rear of the apartment.

[Illustration]

He was smoking a ponderous _chibouk_, and the cloudy volumes sent forth
from his mouth hung about his form, quite obscuring him from sight.
Occasionally, however, he would stop to breathe, which gave the members
of the club an opportunity to survey his appearance. He was a young man
of about twenty-two years, small in stature, with a pale, delicate skin,
and light hair, plastered down by the barber's skill with exactness. He
had no signs of beard or moustache. He was evidently making mighty
efforts to become a Turk. He sat on the divan, with his legs drawn up
under him, adopting the Turkish mode of inhaling the smoke, and he
followed one inhalation by another with such fearful rapidity that the
first impulse of the uninitiated would have been to cry out fire. But he
evidently didn't sit easy, for after a few minutes, he pulled his legs
out from under him and stretched them out at full length, to get out the
wrinkles. The Turkish manner of sitting was, evidently, attended with
physical inconveniences, for, after about a dozen experimental efforts,
he gave it up, put his heels on the table, and laid himself back against
the cushions. Still, however, he continued to smoke unremittingly (as if
to make up in that what he lacked in ability to sit in the Turkish
posture). But it was soon manifest that the young man was suffering. His
face was deathly pale, and, dropping his _chibouk_, he called out for
his oriental host. The gentleman in the red cap appeared, and the
sufferer informed him that he "felt so bad," and he placed his hand on
his stomach, denoting that as the particular seat of his difficulty. The
benevolent Turk suggested exercise out of doors, and, as the elephant
hunters were about going out, they offered to accompany him to his home.
The offer was accepted, and the youth, sick in the cause of Turkey,
left, supported by Dropper and Quackenbush.

A walk of a few squares relieved the young gentleman of the extremely
unpleasant sensations, when he begged leave to express his thanks to the
gentlemen for their kindness. He took occasion to inform them that his