se of such conduct, he remarked that it was
punishment enough to be transformed into a beast; and, while the stripes
should be remitted, still he would not have the woman to assume her own
shape again, as she would be a dangerous person in his good city of
Bagdad.

* * * * *

The moral of this tale of sorcery, which is equal to any in AEsop's
Fables, may be drawn from a posthumous letter which was found among the
papers of Sidi Norman, and is as follows:--

'TO BEN HADAD, SON OF BEN HADAD.

'You, who stand upon the verge of youth,--for that is the age, and there
is the realm, of genii, fairies, and wild 'enchantments,--learn wisdom
from the said story of Sidi Norman.

'I was brought up to respect the laws of God and the prophet. When I
came to marriageable age, and, "unsight, unseen," was induced to espouse
the veiled Amina, it was, as we say in Bagdad, like "buying a pig in a
poke," although rumor greatly magnified her charms, and a secret
inclination prompted me. I longed eagerly for the wedding-day; and when
her face was revealed to conjugal eyes, methought that Mahomet had sent
down a houri from his paradise. Yet I found out, to my cost, that a
little knowledge of a woman is worse than ignorance, and that the
blinding light of beauty hides the truth more than the thick veil of
darkness. Oh, her bosom was white as the snows of Lebanon, and her eyes
were like those of the dear gazelle. Cheeks had she as red as the
Damascus rose, and a halo encircled her like that of the moon. Her
smiles were sunshine, her lips dropped honey. I thought I saw upon her
shoulders the cropping out of angelic wings. I sought out the carpets of
Persia for the soft touch of her tiny feet, and hired all the lutes of
Bagdad to be strung in praise of my beloved. I sent plum-cake to the
newspapers, and placed a costly fee in the hand of the priest. Oh,
blissful moments! But I purchased hell with them, for she began to lead
me a dog's life. She had no taste for home, no appetite for healthful
food; she ran me into debt, hated my friends, loved my enemies, and
changed her soft looks into daggers to stab me with. Her bloom became
blight; her lips oozed out poison, and she dabbled in corrupt things. I
tracked her footsteps from my sacred couch as they led to the very brink
of the grave.

'O, my son, beware of your partner in the dance of life; for, as Mahomet
used to say, in his jocular moods, 'those who will d