When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast moment, in which the stars took interest, he changed his tone and manner, and listened with profound attention to the story of the prince. When it was concluded, he replied, “Touching this princess, I can give thee no information of myself, for my flight is not among gardens, or around ladies’ bowers; but hie thee to Cordova, seek the palm-tree of the great Abderahman, which stands in the court of the principal mosque: at the foot of it thou wilt find a great traveller who has visited all countries and courts, and been a favorite with queens and princesses. He will give thee tidings of the object of thy search.” “Many thanks for this precious information,” said the prince. “Farewell, most venerable conjurer.” “Farewell, pilgrim of love,” said the raven, dryly, and again fell to pondering on the diagram. The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought his fellow-traveller the owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, and set off for Cordova. He approached it along hanging gardens, and orange and citron groves, overlooking the fair valley of the Guadalquivir. When arrived at its gates the owl flew up to a dark hole in the wall, and the prince proceeded in quest of the palm-tree planted in days of yore by the great Abderahman. It stood in the midst of the great court of the mosque, towering from amidst orange and cypress trees. Dervises and Faquirs were seated in groups under the cloisters of the court, and many of the faithful were performing their ablutions at the fountains before entering the mosque. At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to the words of one who appeared to be talking with great volubility. “This,” said the prince to himself, “must be the great traveller who is to give me tidings of the unknown princess.” He mingled in the crowd, but was astonished to perceive that they were all listening to a parrot, who with his bright-green coat, pragmatical eye, and consequential top-knot, had the air of a bird on excellent terms with himself. “How is this,” said the prince to one of the bystanders, “that so many grave persons can be delighted with the garrulity of a chattering bird?” “You know not whom you speak of,” said the other; “this parrot is a descendant of the famous parrot of Persia, renowned for his story-telling talent. He has all the learning of the East at the tip of his tongue, and can quote poetry as fast as he can talk. He has visited various foreign courts, where he has been considered an oracle of erudition. He has been a universal favorite also with the fair sex, who have a vast admiration for erudite parrots that can quote poetry.” “Enough,” said the prince, “I will have some private talk with this distinguished traveller.”