"Allah acbar! nothing but fire water? What then do they do with common
water?"

"They have none but from heaven--the rivers are all of the same
strength."

"Mashallah! how wonderful is God! I would we had a river here. Let
some be procured, then, for I wish to hear his story."

A bottle of brandy was sent for, and handed to the sailor, who put it to
his mouth; and the quantity he took of it before he removed the bottle
to recover his breath, fully convinced the pacha that Mustapha's
assertions were true.

"Come, that's not so bad," said the sailor, putting the bottle down
between his legs; "and now I'll be as good as my word, and I'll spin old
Billy a yarn as long as the maintop-bowling."

"What sayeth the Giaour?" interrupted the pacha.

"That he is about to lay at your highness's feet the wonderful events of
his life, and trusts that his face will be whitened before he quits your
sublime presence. Frank, you may proceed."

"To lie till I'm black in the face--well, since you wish it; but, old
chap, my name a'r'nt Frank. It happens to be Bill; howsomever, it
warn't a bad guess for a Turk; and now I'm here, I'd just like to ax you
a question. We had a bit of a hargument the other day, when I was in a
frigate up the Dardanelles, as to what your religion might be. Jack
Soames said that you warn't Christians, but that if you were, you could
only be Catholics; but I don't know how he could know any thing about
it, seeing that he had not been more than seven weeks on board of a man
of war. What may you be--if I may make so bold as to ax the question?"

"What does he say?" inquired the pacha, impatiently.

"He says," interrupted Mustapha, "that he was not so fortunate as to be
born in the country of the true believers, but in an island full of fog
and mist, where the sun never shines, and the cold is so intense, that
the water from heaven is hard and cold as a flint."

"That accounts for their not drinking it. Mashallah, God is great! Let
him proceed."

"The pacha desires me to say, that there is but one God, and Mahomet is
his Prophet; and begs that you will go on with your story."

"Never heard of the chap--never mind--here's saw wood."

TALE OF THE ENGLISH SAILOR.

I was born at Shields, and bred to the sea, served my time out of that
port, and got a berth on board a small vessel fitted out from Liverpool
for the slave trade. We made the coast, unstowed our beads, spirits,
and gunpowder, and ver