"Tell lies! that is, spin a yarn; well, I can do that, but my mouth's baked with thirst, and without a drop of something, the devil a yarn from me, and so you may tell the old Billygoat, perched up there." "What sayeth the son of Shitan?" demanded the pacha, impatiently. "The unbeliever declareth that his tongue is glued to his mouth from the terror of your highness's presence. He fainteth after water to restore him, and enable him to speak." "Let him be fed," rejoined the pacha. But Mustapha had heard enough to know that the sailor would not be content with the pure element. He therefore continued, "Your slave must tell you, that in the country of the Franks they drink nothing but the fire-water, in which the true believers but occasionally venture to indulge." "Allah acbar! nothing but fire-water? What, then, do they do with common water?" "They have none but from heaven--the rivers are all of the same strength." "Mashallah! how wonderful is God! I would we had a river here. Let some be procured, then, for I wish to hear his story." A bottle of brandy was sent for, and handed to the sailor, who put it to his mouth, and the quantity he took of it before he removed the bottle to recover his breath, fully convinced the pacha that Mustapha's assertions were true. "Come, that's not so bad," said the sailor, putting the bottle down between his legs; "and now I'll be as good as my word, and I'll spin old Billy a yarn as long as the main-top bowling." "What sayeth the Giaour?" interrupted the pacha. "That he is about to lay at your highness's feet the wonderful events of his life, and trusts that his face will be whitened before he quits your sublime presence. Frank, you may proceed." "To lie till I'm black in the face--well, since you wish it; but, old chap, my name arn't Frank. It happens to be Bill; howsomever, it warn't a bad guess for a Turk; and now I'm here, I'd just like to ax you a question. We had a bit of a hargument the other day, when I was in a frigate up the Dardanelles, as to what your religion might be. Jack Soames said that you warn't Christians, but that if you were, you could only be Catholics; but I don't know how he could know anything about it, seeing that he had not been more than seven weeks on board of a man-of-war. What may you be--if I may make so bold as to ax the question?" "What does he say?" inquired the pacha, impatiently. "He says," interrupted Mustapha, "that he was not so fortunate as to be born in the country of the true believers, but in an island full of fog and mist, where the sun never shines, and the cold is so intense, that the water from heaven is hard and cold as a flint." "That accounts for their not drinking it. Mashallah! God is great! Let him proceed." "The pacha desires me to say that there is but one God, and Mahomet is his Prophet; and begs that you will go on with your story." "Never heard of the chap--never mind--here's saw wood." TALE OF THE ENGLISH SAILOR.