The departure of the caravan was delayed for two or three days by the vizier upon various pretexts--although it was his duty to render it every assistance--that Menouni might afford further amusement to the pacha. Menouni was well content to remain, as the liberality of the pacha was not to be fallen in with every day, and the next evening he was again ushered into the sublime presence. "Khosh amedeid! you are welcome," said the pacha, as Menouni made his low obeisance. "Now let us have another story. I don't care how long it is, only let us have no more princesses to be married. That Babe-bi-bobu was enough to tire the patience of a dervish." "Your sublime highness shall be obeyed," replied Menouni. "Would it please you to hear the story of Yussuf, the Water-Carrier?" "Yes, that sounds better. You may proceed." THE WATER-CARRIER. May it please your highness, it so happened that the great Haroun Alraschid was one night seized with one of those fits of sleepless melancholy with which it had pleased Allah to temper his splendid destiny, and which fits are, indeed, the common lot of those who are raised by fortune above the ordinary fears and vicissitudes of life. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "I can't say that I ever have them," observed the pacha. "How is that, Mustapha?" "Your highness has as undoubted a right to them as the great caliph," replied Mustapha, bowing, "but if I may venture to state my opinion," continued he, drawing down to the ear of the pacha, "you have discovered the remedy for them in the strong water of the _Giaour_." "Very true," replied the pacha; "Haroun Alraschid, if I recollect right, was very strict in his observances of the precepts of the Koran. After all, he was but a pastek--a water-melon. You may proceed, Menouni." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The caliph, oppressed, as I before observed to your highness, with this fit of melancholy, despatched Mesrour for his chief vizier, Giaffar Bermuki, who, not unaccustomed to this nocturnal summons, speedily presented himself before the commander of the faithful. "Father of true believers! descendant of the Prophet!" said the minister, with a profound obeisance, "thy slave waits but to hear, and hears but to obey." "Giaffar," replied the caliph, "I am overwhelmed with distressing inquietude, and would fain have thee devise some means for my relief. Speak--what sayest thou?" "Hasten, O my prince, to thy favourite garden of the Tierbar, where, gazing on the bright moon, and listening to the voice of the bul-bul, you will await in pleasing contemplation the return of the sun." "Not so," replied the caliph. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "By the beard of the Prophet! the caliph was right, and that Giaffar was a fool. I never heard that staring at the moon was an amusement before," observed the pacha.