nions should take precedence. Zaleukos is
always so serious and silent, ought he not to tell us what it is that
clouds his life? Perhaps we should be able to lighten his sorrow, if
such he experiences; for we would willingly treat him as a brother,
even though he is not of our religion."

The person thus addressed was a Greek merchant--a man in middle age,
fine looking and of vigorous frame, but very grave. Although he was an
unbeliever (that is, not a Musselman), he was much beloved by his
fellow-travelers, as his whole conduct had won their esteem and
confidence. He had but one hand, and some of his companions supposed
that this loss was the cause of his grief.

Zaleukos replied to the confidential inquiries of Muley: "I am much
honored by the interest you take in me, but have no grief--at least
none that you, with even the best intentions, could dispel. Still, as
Muley seems to lay so much stress on my sadness, I will tell you
something that will perhaps account for my appearing sadder than other
people. As you see, I have lost my left hand. It was not missing at my
birth, but I was deprived of it in the darkest hours of my life.
Whether my punishment was just--whether, under the circumstances, my
features could be other than sad--you may judge for yourselves when you
have heard the story of the Amputated Hand."

THE AMPUTATED HAND.

I was born in Constantinople. My father was an interpreter at the
Sublime Porte, carrying on at the same time quite a lucrative trade in
ottar of roses and silk goods. He gave me a good education, devoting a
part of his own time to my instruction, and also employing one of our
priests to superintend my studies. At first he designed me to be
the successor of his business, but as I developed greater talents
than even he had expected, he changed his mind, and, by the advice
of his friends, concluded to make a physician of me; inasmuch as a
doctor, whose acquirements were greater than those of the quacks on the
market-place, was sure of making his way in Constantinople. Many Franks
came to our house, and one of them persuaded my father to allow me to
go to the city of Paris, in his country, where the best medical
education might be had gratuitously. He proposed to take me with him on
his return journey, and the trip should cost me nothing. My father, who
had traveled widely in his youth, assented to the arrangement, and the
Frenchman told me I should hav