Bosphorous on Monday. Here's the report on it--no, that's
the one on the shooting of the Minister of Religion--ah!
here it is--Report on the Drowning of the Minister of
Labour. Let me read you a bit of this: I call this one
of the best reports, of its kind, that have come in."

"No, no," I said, "don't bother to read it. Just tell me
who did it and why."

"Workingmen," said the Sultan, very cheerfully, "a
delegation. They withheld their reasons."

"So you are having labour troubles here too?" I asked.

"Labour troubles!" exclaimed the little Sultan rolling
up his eyes. "I should say so. The whole of Turkey is
bubbling with labour unrest like the rosewater in a
narghile. Look at your tablets, Toomuch, and tell me what
new strikes there have been this morning."

The aged Secretary fumbled with his notes and began to
murmur--"Truly will I try with the aid of Allah--"

"Now, now," said Abdul, warningly, "that won't do. Say
simply 'Sure.' Now tell me."

The Secretary looked at a little list and read: "The
strikes of to-day comprise--the wig-makers, the dog
fanciers, the conjurers, the snake charmers, and the
soothsayers."