n of the god of day--"

"Poof!" ejaculated the pacha, fanning himself.

"My boat was on the beach; my eyes were fixed upon it, in happy vacancy,
until the shades of night prevented my discerning the nets which were
spread upon its gunnel. I turned round at the soft voice of my Etana,
who was seated near me with her infant in her arms, and watching the
little one's impatience, as it would demand a more rapid flow of milk
from that snowy breast, and the fond smile of the delighted mother, as
she bent over the first dear pledge of our affection. I felt
happy--almost too happy: I had all I wished--yes I had,"--and the maniac
paused and smote his forehead, "but it is past now."

After a second or two he resumed--

"For my part it has always been my opinion that when the wind backs to
the south-east, the fish repair to the deep water; and if you will be
careful when you gather the grapes not to throw in the stalks, that the
wine will, as I before stated to your highness, only increase the
extreme difficulty of ascertaining how far a man could conscientiously
demand, that is to say, in proportion to the degree of intellect, stated
at different intervals, and extending down the crags of the whole
ravine."

"I cannot, positively, understand a word of all this!" exclaimed the
pacha, with irritation; "can you, Mustapha?"

"How is it possible for your slave to comprehend that which is concealed
from the wisdom of your highness?"

"Very true," replied the pacha.

"Your highness will understand it all by-and-bye," observed the maniac;
"but it will be necessary that you wait until I have finished the story,
when it will all reel off like a skein of silk, which at present but
appears to be ravelled."

"Well then," replied the pacha, "I wish you would begin at the end of
your story, and finish with the beginning. Now go on."

"There is nought under heaven so interesting--so graceful--so pleasing
to contemplate as a young mother with her first-born at her breast. The
soft lisps and caresses of childhood--the expanding graces of the
budding maiden--the blushing, smiling, yet trembling bride, all lose in
the comparison with woman in her beauty fulfilling her destiny on earth;
her countenance radiating with those intense feelings of delight, which
more than repay her for her previous hours of sorrow and of anguish. But
I'm afraid I tire your highness."

"Wallah el Nebi!--by God and his Prophet, you do indeed. Is it all to be
l