FROM the tails of oriental sheep (so

lengthily treated in a previous paper), there is an easy transition to tales of oriental fancy. One of these usually grotesque narratives was related to the Hakeem, on the following provocation. A Syrian friend was enlarging to him, on the melancholy fact that a man who knows a great truth cannot always declare it, without incurring censure, or even persecution, from the mistaken and testy public. To support this rather antique proposition, he told the following story, which cannot be found in the Arabian Nights:

"There was once a certain kadi, named Abu Hamood, who was inordinately fond of mules. His stables were uproarious with them, and yet not a month passed, but he added some new costly specimen to his stock. He used to visit them every day, fondle and hug them all around, kiss their long silky ears, and receive their bites and kicks, like so many civilities and benedictions. In short, this passion mastered him to such a degree that he ultimately became a very wicked kadi, and would stick at no false judgment or extortion, to possess himself of a tempting piece of mule-flesh. Accordingly, the spirit of evil laid a trap for him; and the kadi fell into it. And this was the manner of his fall:

"One day, as he walked in the streets of Bagdad-looking right and left for mules-he met a Mughrebee, of an exceedingly dark complexion. This Mughrebee was leading the finest mule that had ever been seen in the city; so beautiful, in fact, that it was like the rising sun for strength, and like the full moon for elegance. Abu Hamood stopped in front of the animal, utterly bewildered, and struck blind by its extraordinary graces. In the mean time, the man was walking the mule up and down, before the gates of the kadi's palace. At last, Abu Hamood spoke to him, and said, with a trembling voice, such was his agitation:

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that?'

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O, Mughrebee, whose mule is

"It is my master's,' replied the other. He is a Mughrebee, like myself; but he is a prince, while I am a slave.'

"And where is thy master?' continued Abu Hamood.

"He has gone to the bazaars, to buy silks and jewels; and he bade me walk the mule up and down before this palace, until he returned.'

"O, Mughrebee!' said Abu Hamood, ⚫ wilt thou not let me take hold of the bridle of this mule, and enjoy the exquisite pleasure of leading him a few paces? And may God reward thee for thy benignity!'

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"Take it, O friend!' said the other; and I will even thank thee: I have occasion to eat; I will go to the pastry-cook's, and return in a moment.'

"Abu Hamood took the bridle, with a trembling hand, and began to lead the mule up and down, in such a state of enchantment, that an hour passed away, as if it had been a minute. His servants espied him, and rushed out, to relieve him of his strange occupation; but he drove them away, and would suffer no one to touch the bridle, beside himself. At last, he began to wonder at the Mughrebee's prolonged absence, and looked anxiously up and down the street, hoping that he had lost his way, or broken his neck, so that he might never return. In short, no Mughrebee appeared; and, after another hour-which, by reason of his anxiety, seemed to him like a century-Abu Hamood stealthily led the beautiful mule into his own court-yard. There he gave it to his chief servant, and told him to put it into the best stall, and provide it with a bed of silk, instead of straw. But the mule broke away from the servant, and followed the kadi into the saloon, stepping as noiselessly as if his feet had been shod with roses. And thus, when Abu Hamood seated himself on a divan, the mule stood before him, and affectionately put his nose into his new master's bosom, and began to eat some raisins that were secreted there. The kadi was enchanted at the animal's tameness and gentleness, and allowed him to nibble at the raisins, until he had had raisins enough. When he would eat no more, the kadi said:

"Doubtless, this poor mule is thirsty; go, and bring him some water.'

"One of the servants brought a sheraby or a narrow-necked jar of water and

a tray, into which it might be poured, and then retired. The mule walked to the door, and closed it with one of his fore-feet; and then, while his master was regarding him with unutterable admiration, returned to the sheraby, and, with a sudden bound, leaped into it, and disappeared. Abu Hamood was struck so perfectly aghast, by this feat, that he could not even cry out; but stood there, with his mouth open, and his eyes fixed on the sheraby. Presently, two long silky ears rose through the narrow mouth of the vessel, and wagged themselves, in a malicious manner, at the kadi; as much as to say: 'Here I am; why don't you catch me?' The poor man screamed with joy, and made a sudden snatch at the ears, which eluded his grasp, und disappeared in the sheraby. Whenever he peered into the opening, there was nothing to be seen, but water; but the moment he rose, and drew back, the long silky ears stood out, and wagged at him, as before. And this continued, until the kadi was quite wild with excitement; the ears dodging him every time, and he using his utmost efforts to seize them, and so recover his mule. He made such an uproar, with his jumping and shouting, that the servants hurried to the saloon, and were confounded to find their master dancing and hallooing insanely around a sheraby of water.

"Come, and help me,' cried the kadi. My mule has got into the sheraby. Help me get him out.'

"Your excellency is joking with us,' answered the servants. It is impossible that a mule should get into a sheraby.'

"I tell you that he is in there,' insisted the kadi. I saw him jump in, and I saw his ears sticking out.'

"God help our poor master!' exclaimed the servants. His mind is departing from him.'

It is a lie! roared the kadi. I am more sane than any of you. If the mule is not in the sheraby, where is he?'

"Doubtless,' replied the servants, 'your excellency has led him out secretly, in order to play a joke upon us.'

"It is false !' screamed the kadi. 'He is in the sheraby, as truly as you are a set of ignoramuses.'

"Abu Hamood's four wives, and all his relatives, came, and tried, in vain, to convince him that there was no mule in the sheraby. He only foamed at the

mouth, because of their unbelief; and would let none of them touch the vessel, for fear that they should break it, and injure the mule. Accordingly, they concluded him to be stark crazy, and sent, in a hurry, for the best doctors of the city, to prescribe for his case. The doctors decided that his mind had departed from him; and ordered that he should be abundantly whipped, and very stingily fed, for three days, on bread and water. It was of no use for the kadi to struggle, and roar, and swear by the tail of the prophet's mule that he spoke nothing but the truth. He was thrown upon the floor by three stout kavasses, who beat the very dust out of him with their canes, and then dragged him away, and forced him into a gloomy dungeon, appointed for the madmen of Bagdad. Here, he was fed with bread and water--and very short rations at that-until three days had passed over. At the expiration of that time, an old Imam came to the cell; and, putting his head between the bars, and wagging his beard mournfully, said:

"O, kadi! O, dearly beloved friend! has thy mind returned to thee? Art thou convinced, now, that there was no mule in the sheraby?'

"No!' roared Åbu Hamood, in great wrath. I am not convinced. I saw him jump in, and I saw his ears sticking

out.'

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Accordingly, they gave him another beating, and three days more of bread and water. And now Abu Hamood began to reflect calmly on his position, and to commune with himself, after the following fashion:

"Well, here I am, in a lamentable case, indeed. Because I tell what I have seen, people call me crazy, and whip me, and feed me on short allowance of bread and water. By lying a little, I might deliver myself from prison, and get my house and family back again. I saw the mule jump into the sheraby, and I saw his ears sticking out; but, if I swear to it till my dying day, nobody will ever believe me. I may as well say that I was mistaken, and so find escape from this persecution.'

“At the end of three days, the Imam came again, and, with a woeful wag of his beard, said: 'O kadi! O dearly beloved friend! has thy mind returned to thee?"

"Yes,' replied the kadi, praise be

to God! He has restored me my wits. I see that I was mistaken, and confess that there was no mule in the sheraby.'

"What has God wrought!' said the Imam; and he wagged his beard for happiness, as he had before done for sorrow. He sent immediately for the family of the kadi, and they all came, weeping for joy, to take their relative out of prison. Abu Hamood was carried to his house, and plentifully fed, while his friends crowded around him, to congratulate him on his recovery. After a while they arose, and left him to slumber; but placed dishes of fruit, and a sheraby of water beside him, so that he might refresh himself again, on waking. The kadi slept soundly, and dreamed of thousands of most beautiful mules, each one of which was led about by a dark-visaged Mughrebee, until suddenly they all leaped into a multitude of waterjars, and disappeared. He awoke with astonishment and vexation, and his eyes fell upon the sheraby at his bedside. There, just as glossy as ever, were the same long ears, wagging at him in the usual tantalizing manner. But Abu

Hamood was wiser now than he had been. Ah!' said he, you may shake your ears at me as much as you please; but I will swear that I never saw them. I am not going to be beaten, and halfstarved again, for telling a truth which nobody believes.'

"Accordingly the ears disappeared, and the kadi rose, and pitched the sheraby out of the window, without so much as peeping into it. And from

that day unto the day of his death, he was never known to look at a mule, nor to contradict public opinion, on any subject whatsoever."

So much for a Syrian tale, the moral of which accounts for the persecution of Galileo, and for the scorn heaped on Columbus, and for the milk in divers other cocoa-nuts. To this I shall append an incidental sketch of an individual whose existence imaged to my comprehension the history of Simeon Stylites, and those other unsocial saints, who illustrated the earlier ages by their filthiness and fanaticism. The Hakeem and I made a trip to the cedars, and to the summit of Jebel Mekmel, the highest peak of Lebanon. A day's ride through the rudest portion of the mountain, over the most awful roads possible,

brought us to a high, temperate region, green here and there with patches of sweet turf, and musical with copious rivulets and fountains. Decaying snowbanks often lined our path, glaring in spectral contrast with immense thickets

of gorgeous oleanders. We reposed beside a gigantic spring of the purest water, bursting up from a large cavity in the rock, with astonishing violence. We flung stones of two or three pounds weight into the boiling caldron, and saw them rise like chips, almost to the surface, and skate away for several feet, down the current. The water was as cold as its mother snows on the mountain above; so chilly that, heated as we were by the burning sun, we could scarcely endure to hold it in our mouths. A rivulet of really respectable dimensions bursts from this spring, and rolls hurriedly down deep valleys, to mingle with that sea which it can behold, even from its birth-place. It is the largest stream that I ever saw from one source, except the head-waters of the Syrian river Orontes. There, at the eastern base of the northernmost ridges of Lebanon, I gazed on a river of twentyfive or thirty feet in width, by three feet in depth, rising silently, yet swiftly, like some sudden destiny, from a single fountain.

-was the

We slept at the village which I immortalized by my famous misadventure in mule-mounting. We were four or five thousand feet above the sea, in the midst of a country like a highland paradise. To the east, we looked up into a vast amphitheatre, formed by the backbone ridge of Lebanon, and two gigantic spurs, which projected towards the Mediterranean. Far above us, on the enormous slope-a single green speck in its terrible aridity-w famous grove of cedars, the only remnant of the mighty verdure from which Solomon drew his temple. Downwards we gazed into an astonishing valley, cracked at its bottom by a huge, precipitous chasm. Trees of the temperato climates-oaks, walnuts, and pinesmingled with the familiar, home-like verdure of potato-fields, and Indian corn. Villages dotted the slopes of the stupendous landscape, dimly visiblo through the rich foliage of their gardens and orchards. Right opposite, on the other side of the ravine, was Ehden,

or Eden; and, far below it, faintly specking with blackness the yellow walls of the chasm, were the windows and portals of a rock-excavated convent. Rivulets rushed from the tops of the ridges to the extreme depths of the basin-their continuous foam shining through the vast distances, like glittering ribbons of silver. West of us, the valley descended, and opened toward the sea, expiring and broadening into the luxuriant plain of Tripoli. And there lay the city, amid its orange and lemon gardens, looking out on a boundless expanse of waters, dazzling with an imperial robe of sunlight, and fanned by the wings of fitful breezes. It was a landscape of the grandest loveliness, whose memory has risen in gigantic beauty on my spirit, even amid the granite glories of Switzerland.

We descended obliquely into the valley, skirted the grim precipitousness of the great chasm, and began to rise again toward the cedars, and the top of the mountain. An hour or two of climbing carried us away from the cornfields, the oaks, and the walnuts, and brought us to steep acclivities of stony earth, barely flecked, here and there, with a pale, stunted vegetation. We climbed a last rapid ascent, and entered into the shadow of the great cedars. On a clump of rocky knolls, they stand far away from other trees, like a company of ascetics, or prophets, retired from a wicked world. The breath of the mountain snow-drifts soughed through their branches, and swept downward, over cornfields and vines, to play with its brother breezes, on the sunlit floor of the sea. A lonely emerald on the naked bosom of the mountain, the grove seemed like a single hopeful thought in some spirit of desolation.

I thought there might be about five hundred trees, of which one-fourth or one-fifth were ancient and colossal, the others of a comparatively modern and slender growth. The old ones usually broke vehemently into several enormous branches, at ten or twenty feet from the ground, and grew scragged and irregular, as if old age, and the consciousness of long experience, made them whimsical and opinionated. The younger trunks were generally free from these eccentricities, and sometimes showed a remarkable straightness. A curious effect was produced by the declination

of the branches, and by the broad sloping sheets of verdure which their upper surfaces presented. We had no means of measuring the trunks, and we contented ourselves with pacing around the roots of some of the more gigantic of the brotherhood. All that I will venture to affirm is, that several were between thirty-five and forty feet in circumference. One of the very largest was almost entirely hollow, and showed, by various signs, that it had been used for a human habitation. Not far from it, towards the lower extremity of the grove, stood a rude stone cabin, shut up, and apparently untenanted. We stared at it a moment, wondering what its purpose might be, and strolled back into the thickest of the shadow. We were looking, in puzzled desire, at the branches above us, longing for a cane or a cedar cone, when a stranger approached us—a slender man, of twentytwo or twenty-three, of a yellowish bronze complexion, dark eyes, a pleasant smile, and costumed after the fashion of the country. Yet he was evidently not a native; for his tent was neither that of a denizen of the Syrian cities, nor of the Syrian deserts. He advanced hesitatingly from among the giant trees, and bade us good morning, in broken Arabic. My linguistic friend responded, and they struck up a conversation: "Do you live in Eden?" said the Hakeem.

"No; I live in the little hut, in the lower part of the grove."

"How came you to live there? What is your occupation?"

"I am a hermit. I am trying to find holiness, by living alone." "And have you found it?" "Alas! not yet. Not as I hope to do." "How long have you lived here?" "Three years. I lived two years in the large hollow tree above us. Then the people of the villages helped me to build this hut."

But you are not an Arab ?"

"No; I am an Abyssinian. I came from my own country, on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, in hopes of making myself holy. I did not succeed. There is a great deal of wickedness at Jerusalem, as there is everywhere among men. Then, I sought for a lonely place, where I might be by myself. I found_this quiet grove, and this hollow tree. I am not yet holy; but I am better than at Jerusalem."