in Oriental countries, as one would send a bottle of
old Madeira from his cellar or a choice cut of venison
from his estate, such customs as is well known being
purely a matter of geography.

The chief blackamoor, a shambling, knock-kneed,
round-shouldered, swollen-paunched apology for a
man, with blistered, cracked lips, jaundiced pig eyes,
and the skin of a terrapin, looked her all over, grunted
his approval, and with a side-lunge of his fat empty
head, indicated the divan which was to be hers during
the years of her imprisonment.

One night some words passed between the two
over the division of bonbons, perhaps, or whose turn
it was to take afternoon tea with the prince--it had
generally been the new houri's, resulting in considerable
jealousy and consequent discord--or some trifle
of that sort (Joe had never been in a harem, and was
therefore indefinite), when the blackamoor, to punctuate
his remarks, slashed the odalisque across her
thinly covered shoulders with a knout--a not uncommon
mode of enforcing discipline, so Joe assured me.

Then came the great scene of the third act--
always the place for it, so dramatists say.

The dark-skinned houri sprang up, rose to her
full height, her eyes blazing, and facing her tormentor,
cried: