nd singing. Can you think of nothing, my
friends, to pass away the time?"

The three older merchants continued to smoke, seemingly lost in
meditation, but the stranger said--

"Permit me to make a proposition. It is that at every camping-place one
of us shall relate a story to the others. This might serve to make the
time pass pleasantly."

"You are right, Selim Baruch," said one of the merchants, "let us act
on the proposal."

"I am glad the suggestion meets with your approval," said Selim; "but
that you may see I ask nothing unfair, I will be the first to begin."

The merchants drew nearer together in pleased anticipation, and had the
stranger sit in the centre. The slaves replenished the cups and filled
the pipes of their masters, and brought glowing coals to light them.
Then Selim cleared his voice with a generous glass of sherbet, stroked
the long beard away from his mouth, and said--

"Listen, then, to the story of the Caliph Stork."

THE CALIPH STORK.

I.

One fine afternoon, Chasid, Caliph of Bagdad, reclined on his divan.
Owing to the heat of the day he had fallen asleep, and was now but
just awakened, feeling much refreshed by his nap. He puffed at a
long-stemmed rosewood pipe, pausing now and then to sip the coffee
handed him by an attentive slave, and testifying his approval of the
same by stroking his beard. In short, one could see at a glance that
the Caliph was in an excellent humor.

Of all others, this was the hour when he might be most easily
approached, as he was now quite indulgent and companionable; and
therefore it was the custom of his Grand Vizier, Mansor, to visit him
every day at this time.

As usual, he came to-day; but, as was unusual with him, his expression
was quite serious.

The Caliph, removing the pipe from his mouth for a moment, said--

"Why do you wear so sober a face, Grand Vizier?"

The Vizier crossed his arms on his breast, bowed low before his master,
and made answer--

"Sire, whether my face be sober or no, I know not. But beneath the
castle walls stands a trader, who has such beautiful wares that I
cannot help regretting that I have no spare money."

The Caliph, who had long wished for an opportunity to do his Vizier a
favor, sent his black slave below to bring up the trader. The slave
soon returned with the man, who was short and stout, of dark brown
complexion, and clothed in rags. He