“Bude Light of the Universe, yes!” replied Bracy. “Your slave has procured the ‘_wear_ with all’ necessary to complete your transformation from infidel Feringhees to true sons of Islam. Would I have had my prince appear without a khelaut--a dress of honour? Be Cheshm! upon my eyes be it;--by the way, it’s a remarkable fact that the expression ‘my eyes’ should be Court lingo in Persia, and bordering upon Billingsgate in English.” “You seem particularly well up in the pseudo-oriental metaphor to-night, Bracy,” observed Frere; “has the fez inspired you?” “No, there’s nothing miraculous in the affair,” returned Bracy; “it is very easily explained. I have been reading up for the occasion--cramming, sir; a process successfully practised upon heavy Johnians at Cambridge and corpulent turkey poults in Norfolk.” “Indeed! I was not aware that you are a Persian scholar. May I inquire what line of study you have adopted?” “One that I have myself struck out,” responded Bracy, “and which has been attended, I flatter myself, with the most successful results. I first subjected myself to a strict course of Hajji Baba, after which I underwent a very searching self-examination in Morie’s ‘Zohrab’, or the ‘Hostage.’ I next thoroughly confused my mind with ‘Thalaba,’ but brought myself round again upon ‘Bayley Frazer’s Travels’; after which I made myself master of ‘Ayesha, or the Maid of Khars.’ And by way of laying in a fitting stock of the sentimental, finished off with Byron’s ‘Giaour’;--stop, let me give you a specimen.” And replacing the unruly fez, he sprang upon a chair, and throwing himself into a mock-tragedy attitude, began bombastically to recite-- “ ’Twas sweet, where cloudless stars were bright, To view the wave of watery light, And hear its melody by night; And oft had Hassan’s childhood play’d Around the verge of that cascade: And oft upon his mother’s breast That sound had harmonised his rest; And oft had Hassan’s youth along Its banks been sooth’d by Beauty’s song, And softer seem’d each melting tone Of music mingled with its own.’ “There now, I call that pretty well for a young beginner; a little of that will go a great way with my Lady Lombard; it is like a penny bun, cheap to begin with, and very filling at the price.” “Turks and Persians are not exactly alike, though you seem to think they are,” observed Frere dryly. “Have you laid down any plan of operations, may I ask? You must give me very full and clear directions how to behave, for, to tell you the truth, my acquaintance with the manners and customs of the higher ranks of Persia is infinitesimally select.”