On another occasion, Nasur, having succeeded so well with his figs, acknowledged the clemency of Timour, by presenting him with a few fresh gherkins, for the great warrior’s supper. The chief ordered him a reward of ten gold crowns, and Nasur went home rejoiced. When the season came that other gherkins had grown into cucumbers, Nasur, expecting commensurate recompense, carried to the residence of Timour a basket full of the refreshing vegetable. The door-keeper, however, refused to allow him to pass until he had agreed to give him half the reward that might be paid to Nasur by order of the chief. It happened that the latter was “not i’ the vein,” and instead of commanding a recompense of gold crowns, he sentenced the unfortunate gift-bearer to receive a hundred blows from the stick. Nasur took fifty patiently; but _then_ he cried to the unpleasant official to hold his hand; and he explained how the other half of the acknowledgment belonged to the door-keeper. Timour swore that the stipulation should be observed, and the remaining half-hundred blows were paid where they were justly due. A whole Encyclopædia might be written of the sayings and doings of the Eastern “simpletons,” alone. My space is too limited to allow of my doing much more than to offer a few illustrations; but, to those who have much curiosity in the matter, and who may not be disinclined to spend whole hours with a single class of the Oriental Fools, I recommend the well-known book, which contains the birth, parentage, and education, life, character, and behaviour, lively sayings, last dying speech and confession of the Gooroo Noodle. From that tempting chronicle, I return to the “Toorke” jester, with the remark that, great as was his freedom of speech, it was not every witty fellow at Court who was so licensed. The courtier who ventured to take a liberty with a Turkish potentate was as uncertain, as to the effect, as the Roman wits were when bold enough to joke with the Emperor. Selim, the son of Bajazet, was one with whom the most favoured of his followers could not with impunity venture on freedom of speech. When engaged on his Egyptian expedition, one of his officials the most closely attached to his person, hazarded the question as to when his Majesty expected to be at Cairo. “_We_ shall be there,” said Selim, “when it may please God. As for thy arrival there, it rather pleases me that thou shalt stay here.” And therewith, on a sign from the Sultan, the unlucky querist was instantly put to death.