cued
maidens part with Orbasan. Indeed, they never will forget him! Fatima,
the freed slave, left us in disguise for Balsora, in order to take
passage thence to her native land.

After a short and agreeable journey, my brother and his companions
reached home. Delight at seeing them once more, almost killed my old
father; the next day after their arrival, he gave a great festival, to
which all the city was invited. Before a large assemblage of relations
and friends, my brother had to relate his story, and with one voice
they praised him and the noble robber.

When, however, Mustapha had finished, my father arose and led Zoraida
to him. "Thus remove I," said he with solemn voice, "the curse from
thy head; take this maiden as the reward which thy unwearied courage
has merited. Receive my fatherly blessing: and may there never be
wanting to our city, men who, in brotherly love, in prudence, and
bravery, may be thy equals!"

[Illustration]

* * * * *

The Caravan had reached the end of the desert, and gladly did the
travellers salute the green meadows, and thickly-leaved trees, of
whose charms they had been deprived for so many days. In a lovely
valley lay a caravansery, which they selected as their resting-place
for the night; and though it offered but limited accommodations and
refreshment, still was the whole company more happy and sociable than
ever: for the thought of having passed through the dangers and
hardships, with which a journey through the desert is ever
accompanied, had opened every heart, and attuned their minds to jest
and gayety. Muley, the young and merry merchant, went through a comic
dance, and sang songs thereto, which elicited a laugh, even from
Zaleukos, the serious Greek. But not content with having raised the
spirits of his comrades by dance and merriment, he also gave them, in
the best style, the story he had promised, and, as soon as he could
recover breath from his gambols, began the following tale.

[Illustration]

LITTLE MUCK.

In Nicea, my beloved father-city, lived a man, whom people called
"Little Muck." Though at that time I was quite young, I can recollect
him very well, particularly since, on one occasion, I was flogged
almost to death, by my father, on his account. The Little Muck, even
then, when I knew him, an old man, was nevertheless but three or four
feet high: he had a singular figure, for his body, little and smart
as it was, carr