served and numerously followed. "Let him who attends
a wedding-feast," says one of his apophthegms, "having no invitation,
avoid glancing here and there dubiously. Choose the best place. If the
guests are numerous, pass through boldly without saluting any one, to
make the guests of the bride think you a friend of the bridegroom, and
those of the groom a friend of the bride."

An Arab poet said of Tofail: "If he saw two buttered pancakes in a
cloud, he would take his flight without hesitation."

A Tofailian of marked genius once learned that a festival was going
on at a grand mansion. He ran thither, but the door was closed and
entrance impossible. Inquiring here and there, he learned that a son
of the house was absent on the Mecca pilgrimage. Instantly he procured
a sheet of parchment, folded it, and sealed it as usual with clay: he
rolled his garments in the dust and bent his spine painfully over a
long staff. Thus perfect in what an actor would call his reading, he
sent word to the host that a messenger had arrived from his son. "You
have seen him?" said the delighted Amphitryon, "and how did he bear
his fatigues?" "He was in excellent health," answered the Tofailian
very feebly. "Speak, speak!" cried the eager father, "and tell me
every detail: how far had he got?" "I cannot, I am faint with hunger,"
said the simple fellow. Directly he was seated at the highest place of
the feast, and every guest admired that splendid appetite--an appetite
quite professional, and cultivated as poulterers cultivate the
assimilative powers of livers. "Did my son send no letter?" asked the
poor father in a favorable interval caused by strangulation. "Surely,"
replied the good friend, and, comprehending that the critical moment
had arrived, he drew to himself a chine of kid with one hand while he
unwound the letter from his turban with the other. The seal was still
moist, and the pilgrim had not found time to write anything on the
parchment. "Are you a Tofailian?" asked the host with the illumination
of a sudden idea. "Yea, in truth, verily," said the stranger,
struggling with his last mouthful. "Eat, then, and may Sheytan trouble
thy digestion!" The parasite was shown the door, but he had dined.

Men of rank and wealth, like Ben-Ali-Cherif, turn the Tofailian into a
proverb, and thus laugh at a plague they cannot cure.

[Illustration: POVERTY AND JEWELS.]

The Algerine coast has enriched our language with at least two words,
respec