imself greatly embarrassed; for he only knew the road to the tailor's
stall, but was totally unacquainted with his dwelling-house. However,
rather than excite his master's anxiety in a higher degree, he set off
in quest of the tailor, and went straight to his stall, in the hopes of
hearing from the neighbours where his house was. It was too early in the
day for the opening of the Bezesten, and except a coffee-house that had
just prepared for the reception of customers, where he applied and could
gain no intelligence, he found himself completely at a standstill. By
the greatest good luck, he recollected Babadul had told him that he
was the muezzin to the little mosque in the fish-market, and thither he
immediately bent his steps. The azan, or morning invitation to prayers,
was now chanting forth from all the minarets, and he expected that he
might catch the purloiner of his head in the very act of inviting the
faithful to prayers.

As he approached the spot, he heard an old broken and tremulous voice,
which he imagined might be Babadul's, breaking the stillness of the
morning by all the energy of its lungs; and he was not mistaken, for as
he stood under the minaret, he perceived the old man walking round the
gallery which encircles it, with his hand applied to the back of his
ear, and with his mouth wide open, pouring out his whole throat in the
execution of his office. As soon as the tailor saw Mansouri making signs
to him, the profession of faith stuck in his throat; and between the
fright of being brought to account for the head, and the words which he
had to pronounce, it is said that he made so strange a jumble, that some
of the stricter Mussulmans, his neighbours, who were paying attention to
the call, professed themselves quite scandalized at his performance. He
descended with all haste, and locking the door after him which leads up
the winding staircase, he met Mansouri in the street. He did not wait
to be questioned respecting the fate of the horrid object, but at once
attacked the slave concerning the trick, as he called it, which had been
put upon him.

"Are you a man," said he, "to treat a poor Emir like me in the manner
you have done, as if my house was a charnel-house? I suppose you will
ask me the price of blood next!"

"Friend," said Mansouri, "what are you talking about? do not you see
that it has been a mistake?"

"A mistake, indeed!" cried the tailor, "a mistake done on purpose to
bring a poor man