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 however, agreeably to the general custom, I solicited the indulgence of my hearers:—

It was in the country that Nadir had spent the time of his childhood. Elma, the daughter of one of his father’s intimate friends, and by two years younger than himself, was his constant play-fellow, and his companion in his daily rambles. One might have said that the gods had animated them at one breath. The first impressions of Nadir’s heart were in favour of Elma, who could hardly articulate the dear name of Nadir without some emotion. Distressed and fretful, when absent from one another, they never met again without a blush, yet both were surprised at their blushing. Mute, through an excess of pleasure, they would gaze on each other. Elma would lean her head on the heaving breast of Nadir, who, with tears of joy in his eyes, enlivened with an innocent salute, the rosy bloom on her cheek. They next would go, hand in hand, singing all the way, to some turf seat, at no great distance, where he used to read to her. At every tender passage they sighed, and Nadir would exclaim—“Elma, that author has read within my thoughts!” If a lover promised to be faithful, she then would press her young friend’s hand on her heart. They would now direct their steps towards the humble habitation of the poor, and there, as by stealth, leave behind them dates or other fruit, and sometimes money. They were so happy in doing a little good, they appeared so full of gratitude, that the indigent, whom they had relieved, might have been mistaken for their benefactors! The two youths accordingly were universally beloved.

Fortune seemed to smile upon them, but Fortune, the same as Time, is supplied with wings. The latter, with a sudden unexpected blow, struck the young man’s father, without leaving him leisure to settle his affairs. Some interested individuals disputed the inheritance. In order to substantiate his claims, Nadir was obliged to visit the metropolis of the empire. Elma might go with him; but how could she determine to leave her mother, whose affection and infirmities required her uninterrupted attendance? Nadir, at least, will never forget her; he promised a thousand times, upon oath, to live for her alone. “My dearest friend,” did Elma say to him, “henceforth I shall wander alone through our fields and meadows, seek you every where, call after you without ceasing, and not meeting you, I shall be most miserable.” “It will be some alleviation to your sorrows,” replied Nadir, “that every object here will bring me back to your recollection, and that you may converse about me with your mother, whenever you are pleased so to do; but whom shall I confide my distresses to? With whom am I to speak of my Elma? I shall be solitary in this wild world.”—“A thought, my good friend, has just occurred to me; you shall have a something that will bring Elma back to your remembrance.” So saying, she produced a double edged sharp steel instrument, applied it to her hair that was waving down to her knees, and presented him with a silver lock. He seized it, carried it to his lips, and fixed it close to his heart. What are riches compared with such a token of love? Nadir would have stayed at Babylon, had not Elma’s mother, partly with threats, and partly by promises, forced him to depart. The die is cast; his high mettled steed bears him through the plain; he turns round, no longer sees his friend, but still imagines that he beholds her features. As he proceeds he is overwhelmed with grief, yet he attempts not to ward its pangs; conscious that to resist it can only promote its fury.

After having travelled fifty parasangs, Nadir reached the metropolis, and alighted at a famous caravansera. He sat down to a table, where the foreign idioms of a hundred guests, ambulating gazetteers from all the districts of the planet, might be heard at a time. He, however, soon left the disputants to go and take a view of the town. Stately palaces engage his attention, he reads the various inscriptions, and next asks a thousand idle questions of passengers who do not listen to him, but leave him to attend to their own pursuits. Behold him now entering a most delightful garden; there he saw myriads of captivating women, whose aspect, nevertheless, only caused him to regret the more the simple air and modest deportment of Elma.

Whilst indulging his reflections, he had the misfortune to tread on a lady’s gauze train, and thereby to be deserving of a very severe reprimand. As he drew back he