The Argosy — page 253: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Len Minutes in a Life. 237 “What wouldst thou ? ” asked the Sultan. The Bostangi-Bassa—for it was he—replied briefly, according to the custom of the seraglio: “ A juggler stands without : he might perchance amuse your Highness.” The Sultan miade an impatient sign in the negative. ‘‘ This man,’’ continued the Bassa, ‘“‘ knows strange things. Hecan read the future.” ‘* Let him come in.” The Bostangi bowed profoundly and retired. Black slaves, armed with drawn scimetars, surrounded the imperial sofa when the juggler was introduced. After a slight salutation, the young man leaned gracefully on his yataghan, awaiting the orders o the Sultan. : “‘ Thy name ?” demanded Mustapha. Mehallé.” “Thy country?” “ Jugglers have no country.” “Thy age? ” “I was five years old when you first girded on the sword of Ottoman.” “Whence comest thou ? ” “From the Morea, signior,” replied the juggler, pronouncing the words with emphasis. | The Sultan remained silent for a moment, but soon added, gaily, “‘Sinceyou can read the future, I will put your knowledge to the proof. When people know the future they ought to know the past.” “You say right, signior. He who sees the evening star rise onthe horizon has but to turn his head to view the last rays of the setting sun.” ‘“‘ Well, tell me how I made my ablutions yesterday.” “The first with Canary wine, the second with wine of Cyprus, and the third with that of Chios.” The Chief of the Believers smiled and stroked his beard : he was indeed in the habit of derogating in this respect, as in many others, from the prescription of-the Koran. ‘“‘ Knowest thou,” replied the sovereign, whom the Zingaro’s answer had put into a pleasant humour, “ knowest thou that I could have thee beheaded P” ‘‘ Doubtless,” said the juggler, undauntedly, “as you did the Spanish merchant who watered his wine before he sold it to you.” Mustapha applauded the knowledge of the magician. He hesitated, nevertheless, before he ventured to put the dreaded question that tyrants, who are ever superstitious, never fail to demand of those who can read the stars. ‘“‘ How long have I to live?” The Grand Signior assumed a persuasive tone, and even condescended ECoOMmicloooks (C(O) mn —_)