where he passed his nights, while by day he
walked restlessly about, going out and coming
in without adequate reason.

This idiot became much attached to me, as I
had been in the habit of sending him provisions
from my table, buying snuff for him, and one day
had given him my snuff-box when he had lost
his own. On Thursday, the 28th of March,
1816, as he was taking his supper, according to
Oriental custom, about an hour after sunset, in
the café", he suddenly started up, and cried out,
"By my faith! to-night there will be blood shed!
Blood! Bloodshed!"

Many persons who were in the cafe severely
reproved him for making such untoward
announcements, but the idiot, without allowing
himself to be interrupted, and without addressing
himself directly to any one, continued his
exclamations of " Blood and slaughter!"

I was engaged that evening to sup in the
town, and had to pass through the coft'ee-room,
which I had scarcely entered when the demented
man, addressing himself to me, said, " You, who
are a stranger here, I warn you not to return
hither this evening, for there will be blood shed.
Blood! Blood!"

The servants joined with me in urging him to
desist from anticipating such evils.  " It is not
I who wish it," he replied; " but it will come
to pass nevertheless. Blood, blood! I see
blood!"

It was not a usual thing with him to make a
connected speech, or to address himself to any
one, unless it were to ask for some article of
clothing, something to eat, or some tobacco, and
then he did it in a very laconic way. I paid no
attention to the words of this imbecile, but
supped in the town, and returned at half-past one
in the morning. All was then tranquil, but an
hour after the worshippers had left the mosque
a terrible commotion broke out among the young
people, and as the Turks always carry fire-arms
and a dagger in their belts, they fought with
pistols and swords. Two men were wounded,
one of whom died a few days after, and thus the
prediction of the idiot was accomplished.

During the spring of the year 1817, while
residing at Yanina, the capital of Epirus, I had
for a neighbour a young officer in the service of
Ali Pasha. His name was Hadji Edem Aga,
and his birthplace was Yakowa, on the confines
of Albania and Bosnia. This young man often
came to spend the evening with me. As he was
at most only twenty years old, I expressed to
him, on one occasion, my surprise that he,
although so young, had obtained the title of
hadji (Pilgrim of Mecca). He told me that he
was but eleven years of age when he
accompanied his father on a pilgrimage to the Holy
City, and that this journey nearly cost him his
life, his illness not arising from fatigue, but from
an irresistible longing to see his mother and
sister; and he added, that but for the beneficent
exercise of skill on the part of a pilgrim from
the kingdom of Morocco in his behalf, he should,
without doubt, have died. I imagined that he
spoke of a physician, and curiosity to learn how
his desire to see his relations had been gratified,
prompted me to inquire what medicines had been
administered to him. My young friend told me,
with a smile, that the pilgrim had administered
none, but that he had brought his mother and
sister into his presence. On hearing this, my
interest was thoroughly aroused, and I begged
him to relate to me the particulars of the case,
and this he did in the following terms, which I
have translated almost word for word. It is
Hadji Edem Aga who speaks.

"The preparations associated with moving,
which occupied us on our journey to Salonica,
whither we went by land, served to mitigate
the grief I experienced on finding myself
separated from my mother and sister, whom I
love more than you can easily believe. During
the voyage from Salonica to Alexandria, in
Egypt, the intense longing to see those who
were so dear to me tormented me terribly; for
the imposed idleness of a tedious voyage left
me at leisure to dwell upon such thoughts.
Happily the sea passage lasted but six days,
and the novelty of the objects which Alexandria
and Cairo presented to me again enabled
me to throw off my sorrow for a while. At
length we left Cairo to proceed to Kosseir (a
maritime town of Upper Egypt, on the borders
of the Red Sea). From this place we were to
embark, in order to cross to the Arabian seaport
of Jeddah, near Mecca. During the journey
from Cairo to Kosseir my anxiety to look upon
my mother and sister was strongly reawakened,
and indeed it broke upon me with such force at
the sight of the Red Sea, that I wept bitterly
when I thought that this gulf was about to
divide me still further from those to whom I
was so tenderly attached. During our stay at
Kosseir, this idea became so painful to me that
I fell sick, and was unable to eat, to drink, or
to sleep. I had been four days in this state,
when my father received a visit from a man of
Morocco, who was a companion of our pilgrimage,
and whose acquaintance we had made from
having lodged in the same hotel together at
Cairo. This stranger, whom we afterwards
found to be a skilful magician, observing that
my father was much dispirited, inquired the
reason; he replied, that his dejection was caused
by my illness, and that he was the more
distressed, as it prevented him from continuing his
journey, the boats being engaged to sail for
Jeddah in a few days. Upon hearing this, the
stranger told my father that he would cure me,
provided only that he had his permission to
favour me with a sight of my mother and sister.
To this proposition some demur was made, as
the magician would see them at the same time,
a privilege which the seclusion of the harem
could not allow. Nevertheless, the fear of
losing me, his only son, and his ardent desire
to accomplish the pilgrimage which he had
undertaken, induced him, after much delay, to
consent to the requisitions, and I was got up
and dressed in fresh linen. The magician having
then ordered some coals to be lighted, warned
me to refrain from speaking to the persons who