Overcome with grief, and persecuted by fortune, I had recourse to a stratagem, which was the last resource to preserve my life. I shaved my beard and my eyebrows, and put on the habit of a calender, under which disguise I left the city without being recognised. After that, it was no difficult matter to quit the dominions of the king, my uncle, by unfrequented roads. I avoided the towns, till I arrived in the empire of the powerful sovereign of all believers, the glorious and renowned caliph Haroun Alraschid, when I ceased to fear. I considered what was my best plan, and I resolved to come to Bagdad, and throw myself at the feet of this great monarch, whose generosity is every where admired. I shall obtain compassion, thought I, by the recital of a history so surprising as mine; he will no doubt commisserate the fate of an unhappy prince, and I shall not implore his assistance in vain. At length, after a journey of several months, I arrived to-day at the gates of the city: when the evening came on, I entered, and having rested a little time to recover my spirits, and deliberate which way I should turn my steps, this other calender, who is next me, arrived also. He saluted me, and I returned the compliment; “You appear,” said I, “a stranger like myself.”--“You are not mistaken,” returned he. At the very moment he made this reply the third calender, whom you see, came towards us. He saluted us, and acquainted us, that he too was a stranger and just arrived at Bagdad. Like brothers we united together and resolved never to separate. But it was late, and we did not know where to go for a lodging, in a city where we never had been before. Our good fortune, however, having conducted us to your door, we took the liberty of knocking; you have received us with so much benevolence and charity that we cannot sufficiently thank you. This, madam, is what you desired me to relate; this was the way in which I lost my right eye; this was the reason I have my beard and eyebrows shaved, and why I am at this moment in your company. “Enough,” said Zobeidè, “we thank you, and you may retire whenever you please.” The calender excused himself, and entreated the lady to allow him to stay and hear the history of his two companions, whom he could not well abandon, as well as that of the three other persons of the party. The history of the first calender appeared very surprising to the whole company, and particularly to the caliph. The presence of the slaves armed with their scimitars did not prevent him from saying in a whisper to the vizier, “As long as I can remember, I never heard any thing to compare with this history of the calender, though I have been all my life in the habit of hearing similar narratives.” He had no sooner finished, than the second calender began; and addressing himself to Zobeidè spoke as follows: THE HISTORY OF THE SECOND CALENDER, THE SON OF A KING.