"And how is this to be done?" said the good-natured prince.

"O King," said his monitor, "this is most easy. Let the king
make a decree, and seal it with his royal signet: and let it be
proclaimed that the king will give ten she-asses, and ten slaves,
and ten changes of raiment, every year, unto the man who shall
make ten measures of the best wine. And whosoever wishes for the
she-asses, and the slaves, and the raiment, let him send the ten
measures of wine to thy servants, and we will drink thereof and
judge. So shall there be much good wine in Assyria."

The project pleased Gomer Chephoraod. "Be it so," said he. The
people shouted. The petitioners prostrated themselves in
gratitude. The same night heralds were despatched to bear the
intelligence to the remotest districts of Assyria.

After a due interval the wines began to come in; and the
examiners assembled to adjudge the prize. The first vessel was
unsealed. Its odour was such that the judges, without tasting
it, pronounced unanimous condemnation. The next was opened: it
had a villainous taste of clay. The third was sour and vapid.
They proceeded from one cask of execrable liquor to another, till
at length, in absolute nausea, they gave up the investigation.

The next morning they all assembled at the gate of the king, with
pale faces and aching heads. They owned that they could not
recommend any competitor as worthy of the rewards. They swore
that the wine was little better than poison, and entreated
permission to resign the office of deciding between such