narrated his story, which
was as follows:--

THE STORY OF HUDUSI.

Most sublime pacha, allow me first to observe, that, although I have
latterly adhered to my own opinions, I am not so intolerant as not to
permit the same licence to others: I do not mean to say that there are
not such things as facts in this world, nor to find fault with those who
believe in them. I am told that there are also such things as flying
dragons, griffins, and other wondrous animals, but surely it is quite
sufficient for me, or any one else, to believe that these animals exist,
when it may have been our fortune to see them; in the same manner, I am
willing to believe in a fact, when it is cleared from the mists of
doubt; but up to the present, I can safely say, that I seldom have
fallen in with a fact, unaccompanied by _doubts_, and every year adds to
my belief, that there are few genuine facts in existence. So interwoven
in my frame is doubt, that I sometimes am unwilling to admit, as a fact,
that I exist. I believe it to be the case, but I feel that I have no
right to assert it, until I know what death is, and may from thence draw
an inference, which may lead me to a just conclusion.

My name is Hudusi. Of my parents I can say little. My father asserted
that he was the bravest janissary in the sultan's employ, and had
greatly distinguished himself. He was always talking of Rustam, as
being a fool compared to him; of the number of battles he had fought,
and of the wounds which he had received in leading his corps on all
desperate occasions; but as my father often bathed before me, and the
only wound I could ever perceive was one in his rear, when he spoke of
his bravery, I _very much doubted the fact_.

My mother fondled and made much of me, declared that I was the image of
my father, a sweet pledge of their affections, a blessing sent by Heaven
upon their marriage; but, as my father's nose was aquiline, and mine is
a snub, or aquiline reversed; his mouth large, and mine small; his eyes
red and ferrety, and mine projecting; and, moreover, as she was a very
handsome woman, and used to pay frequent visits to the cave of a sainted
man in high repute, of whom I was the image, when she talked of the
janissary's paternity, I _very much doubted the fact_.

An old mollah taught me to read and write and repeat the verses of the
Koran--and I was as much advanced as any boy under his charge--but he
disliked me very much for reasons which I n