I am not a great portrait-maker. I have exempted the reader from that of the favorite Sultana; but I can never condescend to remit him that of the Sultan's mare. She was of a middling size, and had a pretty good gait; the chief fault found with her in that regard was, that she did not bridle her head sufficiently. Her colour was white, with blue eyes, small hoofs, clean legs, firm hams, and light haunches. She had been taught to dance for a long time, and she made her bows like a master of the ceremonies. Upon the whole she was a pretty beast enough, and remarkably gentle: she was easily mounted, but one must be an excellent horseman to be able to keep the saddle. She had belong'd to the senator Aaron: but on a fine evening the skittish creature took fright, threw the judge, and ran full speed to the Sultan's studs, carrying with her the saddle, bridle, furniture, housings and caparisons of value; which became her so well, that it was not thought proper to send them back. Mangogul went into his stables, accompanied by his first secretary Ziguezague. "Listen attentively," said he, "and write."----That very instant he turn'd his ring on the mare, which fell to leaping, prancing, kicking, bouncing, and neighing under the tail.----"Where are your thoughts," said the prince to his secretary, "write then."----"Sultan," replied Ziguezague, "I wait till your highness begins."----"My mare," says Mangogul, "will dictate to you this once, write." Ziguezague, whom this order reduced too low in his own opinion, assumed the liberty of representing to the Sultan, that he would always esteem it a high honour to be his secretary, but not that of his mare. "Write, I tell you," said the Sultan again. "Prince, I cannot," replied Ziguezague: "I know not the orthography of this sort of words."----"Write however," said the Sultan once more----"I am excessively mortified, to be obliged to disobey your highness," added Ziguezague; "but"----"But you are a scoundrel," interrupted Mangogul, incensed at a refusal so much out of place; "quit my palace, and never appear there more." Poor Ziguezague disappear'd, having learn'd by experience, that a man of spirit ought not to enter the palaces of most part of the great, without leaving his sentiments at the gate. His deputy was called. He was a Provencal, frank, honest, and thoroughly disinterested. He flew whither he thought his duty and fortune called him, made a low bow to the Sultan, a lower still to his mare, and wrote every thing that the beast vouchsafed to dictate.