accent. I have had an adventurous life enough. I see no reason why I
should not tell you something of it, especially as you are not English,
and can therefore hear me with an unprejudiced ear. But, really, do you
care for a yarn?"

I begged him to proceed, and I beckoned the servant to arrange our
pipes, that we might not be disturbed. When this was done, Isaacs began.

"I am going to try and make a long story short. We Persians like to
listen to long stories, as we like to sit and look on at a wedding
nautch. But we are radically averse to dancing or telling long tales
ourselves, so I shall condense as much as possible. I was born in
Persia, of Persian parents, as I told you, but I will not burden your
memory with names you are not familiar with. My father was a merchant in
prosperous circumstances, and a man of no mean learning in Arabic and
Persian literature. I soon showed a strong taste for books, and every
opportunity was given me for pursuing my inclinations in this respect.
At the early age of twelve I was kidnapped by a party of slave-dealers,
and carried off into Roum--Turkey you call it. I will not dwell upon my
tears and indignation. We travelled rapidly, and my captors treated me
well, as they invariably do their prizes, well knowing how much of the
value of a slave depends on his plump and sleek condition when brought
to market. In Istamboul I was soon disposed of, my fair skin and
accomplishments as a writer and a singer of Persian songs fetching a
high price.

"It is no uncommon thing for boys to be stolen and sold in this way. A
rich pacha will pay almost anything. The fate of such slaves is not
generally a happy one." Isaacs paused a moment, and drew in two or three
long breaths of smoke. "Do you see that bright star in the south?" he