as the bashaw's idol, and it must be handsomely
paid for.

As soon as the parties were brought in, the judicial potentate eyed
them sternly for some time.

Then he said--

"Which is the plaintiff?"

"I am," exclaimed Bosja.

"No; I am," exclaimed Mr. Figgins.

"What bosh is this?" cried the bashaw; "you can't both be plaintiffs."

"Most high and mighty, he robbed me of my turban and knocked me down
stairs," affirmed Bosja.

"No, your worship; he robbed me of my turban and stole half my flute,"
protested the orphan.

The official dignitary frowned and shut his eyes reflectively.

He foresaw that he had a case of unusual intricacy before him, and he
was thinking how he should deal with it.

After a moment he opened his eyes, rubbed his nose profoundly, and
sneezed.

All the officials imitated their superior by rubbing their noses and
sneezing in concert.

The uproar was tremendous.

Order being at length restored, the bashaw fixed his eyes upon Bosja,
and said to him--

"Let me hear what you have to say."

"It is this. Your slave last night was troubled with the toothache, and
retired to his couch. The pain kept me awake, and just as I was going
to sleep--"

"Stop!" cried the bashaw; "you say that the pain kept you awake, and
then you say you were going to sleep. You couldn't be awake and asleep
at the same time."

A hum of applause ran round the court at this sagacious remark.

"He speaks the words of wisdom," murmured some.

"What a lawyer he is," whispered others.

"I had been awake for some hours," explained Bosja, "when the pain
lulled a little, and I began to doze."

"Well, you began to doze, and then?"

"Then I was disturbed by a dreadful squeaking noise in the next room."

"A rat?"

"No, your highness; a flute."

"That was my flute, your worship," cried the indignant orphan; "whose
dulcet tone he calls a dreadful sque----"

"Silence, dog," shouted the bashaw.

"Silence," shouted everyone else.

"Continue," said the judge to Bosja.

"I endured the dreadful sound as long as I could, until the anguish of
my tooth became so great I could bear it no longer, and I sent a civil
messenger to the Frank yonder to cease."

"And he complied with your request?"

"Not he, your mightiness. He played all the louder, and the dreadful
noise he made nearly killed me."

"I was in my own room, your worship," interposed Mr. Figgins, "and had
a right to play as loud as I liked."

The bash