To a man of Mustapha Pasha’s good sense and sound judgment, it was by no means difficult for his visitor to demonstrate in the clearest manner the hopelessness of his situation. It was true that hitherto he had baffled all the attempts of the Imperial troops, by the wisdom of his measures, the judiciousness of his arrangements, the bravery of his own bearing, and the zeal of his soldiery. But this state of things could not last for ever—he was feeding upon his own strength, and his resources must ultimately fail—he had yet time to make a creditable and a free submission—he had still an opportunity to save his head—but, when he yielded from weakness, (and, should he persist in his rebellion, the bitter hour of helplessness must come;) how could he look for a mercy which he had rejected when it was freely extended to him? Thus pressed, both by exterior argument and internal conviction; wearied also, it may be, of opposition to a sovereign whom he reverenced; the rebel leader asked time for deliberate consideration ere he returned a definite answer to the proposition—he stipulated also that an assurance should be solemnly given that his own life and those of his family should be spared; which Achmet Pasha did not hesitate to promise upon the spot. It was accordingly determined that the latter should remain two days in the palace of the rebel chief, when he should either depart alone, and unmolested, bearing with him the continued defiance of the revolted province; or that he should return to Constantinople accompanied by his host, and the females of his family, under the safeguard of his plighted word. The latter alternative was adopted; and Achmet Pasha ultimately returned to Constantinople in company with the Scodra Pasha and his Harem. The fortune of the rebel chief was confiscated, and a hundred and twenty thousand piastres a-year settled upon him to supply the means of existence. But some time elapsed ere he was admitted to the presence, and allowed the high honour of kissing the foot, of his Sublime Highness. On the same occasion he presented his two eldest sons, with whom the Sultan was so much pleased that he created them Pashas on the instant; and, having entered into conversation with them, he inquired how they liked the _fèz_, upon which the younger of the two, a fine boy of eight years of age, answered with a promptitude worthy of an accomplished courtier, that he had always liked it, but since he had seen it on the head of the Sultan, he should like it a thousand times better; a reply which so delighted Mahmoud that he immediately presented him with a watch magnificently enriched with diamonds. Nor was the child less fortunate throughout the audience, for the smiling sovereign tried him with another question, to which he answered with even more point—“And which do you like the best, my young Pasha?” asked the Sultan: “Constantinople or Albania?”