infinity of birds must tempt the most idle or contemplative to go "_a
birding_," as the Americans term it. I had shot all sorts of birds and
beasts, from a crocodile to a snipe; and among other game I had shot
multitudes of turtle doves; these pretty little birds being exceedingly
tame, and never flying very far, I sometimes got three or four at a
shot, and a dozen or so of them made a famous pie or a pilau, with rice
and a tasty sauce; but a somewhat singular incident put an end to my
warfare against them. One day I was sitting on the terrace before the
Bed of Pharaoh, surrounded by a circle of Arabs and negroes, and we were
all listening to a story which an old gentleman with a grey beard was
telling us concerning the loves of the beautiful Ouardi, who was shut up
in an enchanted palace on this very island to secure her from the
approaches of her lover, Prince Anas el Ajoud, the son of the Sultan
Esshamieh, who had married seven wives before he had a son. The first
six wives, on the birth of Anas el Ajoud, placed a log in his cradle,
and exposed the infant in the desert, where he was nursed by a gazelle,
and whence he returned to punish the six cruel step-mothers, who fully
believed he was dead, and to rejoice the heart of his father, who had
been persuaded by these artful ladies that his sultana by magic art had
presented him with a log instead of a son, who was to be the heir of his
dominions, &c. Prince Anas, who was in despair at being separated from
his lady love, used to sing dismal songs as he passed in his gilded boat
under the walls of the island palace. These, at last, were responded to
from the lattice by the fair Ouardi, who was soon afterwards carried off
by the enamoured prince. The story, which was an interminable rigmarole,
as long as one of those spun on from night to night by the Princess
Sherezade, was diversified every now and then by the fearful squealing
of an Arab song. The old storyteller, shutting his eyes and throwing
back his head that his mind might not be distracted by any exterior
objects, uttered a succession of sounds which set one's teeth on
edge.[10]

[Illustration: (musical notation) AMAAN.

The snow, the snow is melt-ing on the hills of Is--fa--han. As fair, be
as re-lent-ing Am-aan, Am-aan, Am-aan.]

Whilst the old gentleman was shooting out one of these amatory ditties,
and I was sitting still listening to these heart-rending sounds, a
turtle-dove--who was probably awakened fr