iately after the
departure of the king of Tartary, who shortly took leave of him,
and being laden with magnificent presents, set forward on his
journey.

Shaw-zummaun having departed, Shier-ear ordered his grand vizier
to bring him the daughter of one of his generals. The vizier
obeyed. The sultan lay with her, and putting her next morning
into his hands again in order to have her strangled, commanded
him to provide him another the next night. Whatever reluctance
the vizier might feel to put such orders in execution, as he owed
blind obedience to the sultan his master, he was forced to
submit. He brought him then the daughter of a subaltern, whom he
also put to death the next day. After her he brought a citizen's
daughter; and, in a word, there was every day a maid married, and
a wife murdered.

The rumour of this unparalleled barbarity occasioned a general
consternation in the city, where there was nothing but crying and
lamentation. Here, a father in tears, and inconsolable for the
loss of his daughter; and there, tender mothers dreating lest
their daughters should share the same fate, filling the air with
cries of distress and apprehension. So that, instead of the
commendation and blessings which the sultan had hitherto received
from his subjects, their mouths were now filled with
imprecations.

The grand vizier who, as has been already observed, was the
unwilling executioner of this horrid course of injustice, had two
daughters, the elder called Scheherazade, and the younger
Dinarzade. The latter was highly accomplished; but the former
possessed courage, wit, and penetration, infinitely above her
sex. She had read much, and had so admirable a memory, that she
never forgot any thing she had read. She had successfully applied
herself to philosophy, medicine, history, and the liberal arts;
and her poetry excelled the compositions of the best writers of
her time. Besides this, she was a perfect beauty, and all her
accomplishments were crowned by solid virtue.

The vizier loved this daughter, so worthy of his affection. One
day, as they were conversing together, she said to him, "Father,
I have one favour to beg of you, and most humbly pray you to
grant it." "I will not refuse," answered he, "provided it be just
and reasonable." "For the justice of it," resumed she, "there can
be no question, and you may judge of this by the motive which
obliges me to make the request. I wish to stop that barbarity
which the sul