answered, My name is Agib, my mother is called the lady of beauty, and my father Schemseddih Mohammed, vizier to the sultan. At these words the children cried out, Agib, What do you say? That is not the name of your father, but of your grandfather. A curse on you, said he in a passion: What! dare you say that the vizier Schemseddin is not my father? No, no, cried they, with great laughter, he is but your grandfather, and you shall not play with us; nay, we will take care how we come into your company. Having spoken thus, they left him, scoffing and laughing among themselves, which mortified Agib so much that he wept. The schoolmaster, who was near, and heard all that passed, came just at the nick of time, and speaking to Agib, says, Agib, do not you know that the vizier Schemseddin is not your father, but your grandfather, and the father of your mother, the lady of beauty? We know not the name of your father any more than you do; but only know that the sultan was going to marry your mother to one of his grooms, a hump-back fellow, but a genius lay with her. This is hard upon you, and ought to teach you to treat your school-fellows with less haughtiness than you have done hitherto. Little Agib, being nettled at this, ran hastily out of the school, and went home crying. He came straight to his mother's chamber, who, being alarmed to see him thus grieved, asked him the reason. He could not answer for tears, and it was but now and then he could speak plain enough to repeat what had been the occasion of his sorrow. Having come to himself, Mother, said he, for the love of God, be pleased to tell me who is my father. My son, said she, Schemseddin Mohammed, that every day makes so much of you, is your father. You do not tell me truth, said he; he is your father, not mine; but whose son am I? At this question, the lady of beauty, calling to mind her wedding-night, which had been succeeded by a long widowhood, began to shed tears, repining bitterly at the loss of so lovely a husband as Bedreddin. Whilst she and Agib were weeping, the vizier entered, and demanded the reason of their sorrow. The lady told him the shame Agib had undergone at school, which did so much afflict the vizier, that he joined his tears with theirs; and judging that the misfortune that had happened to his daughter was the common discourse of the town, he was quite out of patience. In this state he went to the sultan's palace, and, falling at his feet, humbly prayed him to give him leave to make a journey into the provinces of the Levant, and particularly to Balsora, in search of his nephew Bedreddin, as he could not bear that the people of the city should believe a genius had got his daughter with child. The sultan was much concerned at the vizier's affliction, commended his resolution, gave him leave to go, and caused a passport also to be written for him, praying, in the most obliging terms, all kings and princes, in whose dominions the said Bedreddin might