ff Candia, a British man-of-war, which he was mad enough to attack
with three galleys. In less than an hour all three galleys were blown
to the bottom of the sea, nothing of them remaining on the surface of
the water but their well-known flags, which Morrison, the victorious
English captain, conveyed to Stambul, and there presented them to the
Divan.

Boundless was the joy of the Sultan at the death of the vexatious
filibusterer, and there was joy in the harem also, for a feast of
lamps was to be held there the same night, and Morrison was to be
presented to the Divan on the following day to be loaded with gifts
and favors.

At night, therefore, there was great mirth among the odalisks. The
Sultan himself was drunk with joy, wine, and love, and the hilarious
Sultana brought forth the magic pen to make them mirth, and compelled
it to answer the drollest questions, as, for instance, "How many hairs
are there in Mahmoud's head?" "How many horses are there in the
stable?" and "How many soldiers are there on the sea?" And, finally,
laughing aloud, she commanded it to tell her how many hours she had to
live.

Ah, surely a life full of joy lay before her! But the Sultan shook his
head; one ought not to tempt God with such questions.

The pen would not write.

Then the favorite cried angrily, "Answer! or I will compel thee to
count all the drops of water in the Black Sea, from here to Jenikale
in the Crimea!"

At these words the pen, with a quivering movement, arose, and
scratching the paper with a shrill sound, as if it would weep and
moan, wrote down some utterly unintelligible characters, with the
number "8" beneath them, and surrounded the whole writing with a
circle to signify that there was nothing more to come.

Everybody laughed. It was plain that the spirit also loved its little
joke, and was angry with the Sultana for torturing it with so many
silly questions.

It was then the third hour after midnight, all the clocks in the room
had at that moment struck the hour. After that the odalisks fell
a-dancing again, and the eunuch-buffoons exhibited a puppet show on a
curtained stage, which greatly diverted the ladies of the harem. But
the number "8" would not go out of the head of the favorite, and as
all the clocks in the room, one after the other, struck four, she took
out the pen, and with an incredulous, mocking smile on her face, but
with horror in her heart, she asked, "Come, tell me again, if thou
hast n