to the hall. They went for a long time through a gloomy passage; at length, through a half fallen wall, gleamed a bright light towards them. Having arrived there, the owl advised them to remain perfectly quiet. They could, through the gap near which they stood, overlook a great hall. It was supported all round by pillars, and splendidly decked. Many brilliant coloured lamps replaced the light of day. In the centre of the hall was a round table, covered with many and choicest meats. Round this table was a couch, on which sat eight men. In one of these men the stork recognised the pedlar who had sold them the magic powder. His neighbour asked him to relate his latest deeds. Amongst others he also related the story of the Caliph and his Vizier.

"What sort of word hast thou given them?" asked another enchanter. "A very difficult Latin one, namely,

999

'Mutabor.'

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When the storks heard this at their hole in the wall they were nearly beside themselves with joy. They ran on their long legs so quickly to the threshold of the ruins that the owl could hardly follow them. There the Caliph addressed the owl with emotion: Deliverer of my life and of the life of my friend, accept me in eternal gratitude for your spouse for that which thou hast done for us.' He then turned to the East. Thrice the storks bowed their long necks to the sun, which just then was rising behind the mountains. "Mutabor!" they exclaimed; and straightway they were changed, and in the great joy of their new-sent life master and servant fell into each other's arms laughing and crying. But who can describe their astonishment on turning round? A lovely lady, grandly dressed, stood before them. Smiling, she gave her hand to the Caliph. "Do you no longer recognise your night-owl?" she said. It was she. The Caliph was so charmed with her beauty and grace, that he exclaimed: "My greatest fortune was that of having been a stork.”

The three now travelled together towards Bagdad. The Caliph found in his clothes not only the box with the magic powder, but also his purse. He therefore bought in the nearest village what was needful for their journey, and so they soon came to the gates of Bagdad.

But there the arrival of the Caliph caused much surprise. People had believed him dead, and they therefore were highly pleased to have again their beloved ruler.

All the more however burned their hatred towards the impostor Mizra. They entered the palace, and took prisoner the old enchanter and his son. The Caliph sent the old man to the same chamber in the ruins that the Princess had lived in as owl, and had him hanged there. But for the son, who knew nothing of his father's art, the Caliph gave the choice whether he would die or snuff. And when he chose the latter, the Grand Vizier handed him the box. A good strong pinch and the magic word of the Caliph changed him into a stork. The Caliph had him shut up in an iron cage and placed in his garden.

Long and happy lived the Caliph Chasid with his wife the Princess. His most pleasant hours were always those when the Grand Vizier visited him during the afternoon; they then very frequently spoke of their stork adventures, and when the Caliph was very jovial, he amused himself with imitating the Grand Vizier when he was a stork. He strutted up and down the chamber with stiff legs, clapped, fluttered his arms as though they were wings, and showed how vainly the latter had turned to the East crying all the while Mu-Mu. This entertainment was at all times a great pleasure to Madam Caliph and her children; but when the Caliph kept on clapping a little too long, and nodded, and cried Mu-Mu, then the Vizier threatened him, smiling, that he would communicate to Madam Caliph what had been discussed outside the door of the Night Owl Princess.

When Selim Baruch had finished his story the merchants expressed themselves much delighted at it. Truly the afternoon has passed without our having observed it," said one of them, whilst drawing back the curtain of the tent. "The evening breeze blows cool; we might yet get over a good stretch of road." His comrades were agreed to this; the tents were struck, and the caravan again set forth in the same order in which it had arrived.

They rode almost all night; for it was oppressive by

day, while the night was refreshing and starlit. They reached at length a spot fitted for their encampment, pitched their tents, and laid themselves to rest. The merchants however cared for the stranger as if he were their worthiest guest. One gave him cushions, another mats, a third provided him with slaves; in short, he was as well served as if he had been at home. The hotter hours of the day had already passed ere they rose again, and they unanimously resolved to await here the evening. After they had eaten together, they once more drew nearer to each other, and the young merchant turned to the eldest and said: "Selim Baruch made yesterday afternoon pleasant to us; how were it, Achmet, if you too related something, either from your own long life, which has surely been rife in adventures, or else some pretty fairy tale?"

Achmet remained silent a long time at this speech, undecided as to whether he should relate either one or the

other. At last he began to speak: "Dear friends, you have shown yourselves during our journey to be faithful companions, and Selim also merits my confidence; I will therefore tell you something from my own life, that I am unwilling to narrate to every one- The Story of the Haunted Ship.""

THE STORY OF THE HAUNTED SHIP.

My father kept a small shop at Balsora. He was neither pcor nor rich, and one of those people who are afraid of venturing_anything lest they should lose the little they possess. He brought me up plainly and virtuously, and soon I was enabled to assist him in his trade. Scarcely had I reached my eighteenth year, and hardly had he made his first large speculation, when he died, probably from grief at having confided a thousand pieces of gold to the sea.

I could not help thinking him lucky afterwards on account of his death, for a few weeks later the news arrived that the ship to which my father had entrusted his goods had sunk. This mishap, however, did not curb my youthful courage. I converted everything that my

father had left into money, and set forth to try my fortune abroad, accompanied only by my father's old servant, who from long attachment would not separate himself from me and my fate.

We took ship at Balsora and left the haven with a favourable wind. The ship in which we embarked was bound for India. When we had sailed some fifteen days over the ordinary track, the Captain predicted a storm. He looked very serious, for it appeared that he was not sufficiently acquainted with the course in these parts to await a storm with composure. He had all sail furled, and we drifted along quite gently. The night had fallen. It was cold and clear, and the Captain began to think he had been deceived by false indications of the storm. All at once a ship which we had not observed before drove past at a little distance from our own. Wild shouts and cheers resounded from her deck; at which, in such an anxious hour before a tempest, I wondered not a little. The Captain, who stood by my side, turned as pale as death. "My ship is doomed!" he cried; "yonder sails death.' Before I could question him as to the meaning of this strange exclamation, the sailors came running towards us, howling and crying. "Have you seen it?" they cried. "It is all over with us."

But the Captain caused some consolatory verses to be read out of the Koran, and placed himself at the helm. All in vain! Visibly the storm increased in fury, and before an hour had passed the ship crashed and stuck fast. The boats were lowered, and scarcely had the last sailors saved themselves, when the ship sank before our eyes, and I was launched on the sea, a beggar. Further miseries yet awaited us. The storm raged more furiously, our boat became unmanageable. I had clasped my old servant tightly, and we vowed never to part from one another. At length day broke. But at the first dawn of morning a squall caught the boat in which we were seated and capsized it. I never saw my shipmates again. I was stunned by the shock; and when I awoke, I found myself in the arms of my old and faithful servant, who had saved himself on the overturned boat and dragged me after him. The tempest had subsided. Nothing more was seen of

our ship. We discovered however not far from us another ship, towards which the waves were drifting us. As we drew near I recognised it as the same ship that had dashed past us on the preceding night, and which had terrified our Captain so`much. I was inspired with a singular horror at the sight of this vessel. The expression of the Captain which had been so terribly fulfilled, the desolate aspect of the ship, on which, near as we were and loudly as we shouted, no one appeared, frightened me. However, this was our only means of safety, therefore we praised the Prophet who had so wonderfully preserved us.

Over the ship's bow hung a long cable. We paddled with hands and feet towards it in order to grasp it. At length we succeeded. Loudly I raised my voice, but all was silent on board. We then climbed up by the rope, I as the youngest going first. Oh, horror! what a spectacle met my gaze as I stepped upon the deck! The planks were reddened with blood; twenty or thirty corpses in Turkish dresses lay on the deck. Close to the mainmast stood a man, richly attired, a sabre in his hand, but with features pale and distorted; a great nail driven through his forehead pinning him to the mainmast. He also was dead.

Terror shackled my steps. I scarcely ventured to breathe. At last my companion had also come up. He too was struck at the sight of the deck, on which nothing living was to be seen, only so many frightful corpses. After a time we ventured, after having invoked the aid of the Prophet in anguish of heart, to go forward. At each step we glanced around expecting to discover something new and yet more terrible. But all was the same. Far and wide nothing was living but ourselves and the ocean. We dared not even speak aloud, lest the dead Captain spitted to the mast should turn his ghastly eyes upon us, or one of the corpses move its head. At last we reached a hatchway which led to the ship's hold. There we both stopped, involuntarily, and looked at each other, for neither dared to speak his thoughts.

"O Master," said my faithful servant, " something awful has happened here! Yet, though the hold below be full of murderers, I would rather give myself up to their