ir
natures, and the more their legs ached from such perpetual demand upon
their support, the more bitter did they become in their remarks. Poor,
prosing old fools! the beauteous princess had long made up her mind, and
had never swerved from it through the tedious six years during which the
doubts and discussions of those venerable old numskulls had embroiled
the whole nation in the Molean and Anti-Molean controversy.

It was about the first hour after noon that the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu,
suddenly rising from her recumbent attitude, clapped her pretty little
hands, the fingers of which were beautifully tipped with henna, and
beckoning to her attendants, retired gracefully from the hall of
audience. The surprise and commotion was great, and what made her
conduct more particular was, that the only son of the chief Brahmin who
had first raised the question, and headed the Anti-Molist party, was at
the moment of the princess's departure, prostrate before the throne,
with his forehead, indeed, to the ground, but his bosom swelling high
with hope and ambition.

Within a bower of orange trees, in the deep recesses of the royal
gardens, to which she had hastened, sat the panting princess. She
selected some flowers from those which were scattered round her, and
despatched them to her favourite musician and attendant, Acota. Who was
there in the whole kingdom of Souffra who could so sweetly touch the
mandolin as Acota? Yet, who was there, not only in Souffra, but in all
the adjacent countries, who struck such occasional discordant notes as
Acota, and that in the ear of the beautiful princess Babe-bi-bobu, who,
far from being displeased, appeared to approve of his occasional
violence, which not only threatened to crack the strings of the
instrument, but the tympanums of those who were near, who longed to
escape, and leave the princess to enjoy the dissonance alone, little
thinking that the discord was raised that their souls' harmony might be
undisturbed by the presence of others, and that the jarring of the
strings was more than repaid to the princess, by the subsequent music of
Acota's voice.

Acota seated himself, at a signal from the princess, and commenced his
playing, if such it could be called, thrumming violently, and jarring
every chord of his instrument to a tone of such dissonance, that the
attendant girls put their fingers into their ears, and pitied the
beautiful Babe-bi-bobu's bad taste in music.

"Ah! Acota," s