words of the choicest that our language
contains. The learned Abd-es-Sarf has
written a large book on the donkeys of Cairo
alone, and the things appertaining; but, as
he has forgotten to laud the perfection of the
saddles and the bridles, much remains to be
done.

Among the chief excellences of Cairo are
its wags or merry men. Like unto them are
to be found in no country on the face of the
earth. They are not drunkards, like the
merry men of Stamboul; nor licentious, like
those of Damascus; nor dishonest, like those
of Aleppo; nor riotous, like those of Bassora.
They mingle a pleasant proportion of gravity
with their mirth; and their chief art is to
pass their life in jollity, without doing any
harm to their fellow creatures—or rather,
without doing more than is required to keep
themselves in pleasant humour, for it is
impossible to laugh without seeing others suffer
slightly.

One of the most celebrated of these merry
men is Hassan, who passes his time in piercing
the skins of the water-carriers, and in enjoying
the rage and tears of the unfortunate man
who, on arriving at his destination, finds that
he has nothing but empty bags of leather on
his camels. He always follows his victim at
a distance, and when he has sufficiently
laughed, he comes forward, saying, "Poor
man, what is the matter? Here is the price
of thy water." Then the carrier replies,
"May Allah shower blessings upon thee,
and curses on the man who pierced my
skins!"

Another, named Chirza, chiefly delights in
putting dead dogs or cats into the water-jars
of the women; and it is related that he once
saw a woman set down a jar at a door and
go into the house to gossip. He had a cat
under his cloak, and slipped it in without
being seen. In the evening, he related his
joke to several friends who dined with him,
and all laughed. Suddenly, the servant came
in and said that the jar, from which the
water they had drank had been taken,
contained a dead cat; and it was discovered
that Chirza had played off his trick on his own
maid by mistake.

But all the wags of the present day are
inferior to the one surnamed Abu Munchar,
or the Father of the Nose, who nourished
under the reign of King Ali Mustapha. His
real name was Abdallah; but, as his nose
was about the size and shape of a full-grown
cucumber, first the children, then the women,
and, by degrees, everybody nicknamed him
Abu Munchar. He was the son of a merchant,
who bequeathed to him considerable property,
charging him to increase it; but, as he loved
ease better than labour, and saw that he had
sufficient to keep him in comfort all his life,
he determined to abandon trade and to adopt
the profession of a merry man. More than
fifty of his exploits have been handed down
by tradition; but it is generally admitted
that the one we are about to relate was the
most amusing.

He lived in a fine mansion near the Zeyneb
gate, and his neighbours talked of scarcely
anything but the comical things he said and
did. In order to be more at liberty, however,
he bought a small house at the other
extremity of the city, and used often to go there
dressed in mean garments, and concoct and
carry out plans of amusements. His mysterious
way of living created great curiosity in
the neighbourhood; and as secrecy always
irritates the inquisitive, many began to spread
the report that he was no other than Manrow,
the celebrated robber, disguised by a nose that
Allah had not given him. These reports at
length induced the head of the police to pay a
visit to the house. Abu Munchar was a little
alarmed at first; but, as he had heard of the
reports that had been spread, he received the
official with a gay countenance, and without
giving him time to speak, said: "O my master,
this is a most fortunate occasion. I wished
to see you; for, on going along the street this
morning, I found a purse containing a hundred
pieces of gold, and as it is not probable that I
shall discover the owner so easily as you will, it
is best to place it in your hands." So saying,
he drew forth a purse and handed it to the
head of the police, who understood the whole
affair, and who, after making some mild
inquiries as to Abdallah's way of life, went away.
The merry man accompanied him into the
street, where his visitor embraced him with
great demonstrations of affection, and
continued his round, answering all curious
inquirers by saying, "A man who laughs is never
dangerous!"

When the neighbours saw with what
distinction Abu Munchar was treated by the
dreaded Zabib, they changed their opinion of
him and eagerly sought his acquaintance.
Among those who had most vilified him
previously, was a poor devil of a barber, who
used to shave in a bath visited only by water-
carriers, fish-men, donkey-boys, and beggars;
and who could scarcely contrive to exist on
the produce of his razor. It is true, that more
than half his earnings were expended in coffee
and hasheesh (to which he was inveterately
addicted), and that many would not trust
their heads in his hands, because he had once,
when very drunk, sliced off the ear of a patient.

This barber, named Ali, said to himself
one day: "The man with the nose is
evidently a jolly fellow, and yet he seems as poor
as myself. Perhaps he has the secret of
happiness; and, if I could make his
acquaintance he might discover it to me. I am
a pleasant wise fellow, full of learned sayings,
and strange stories, and witty conceits, and
ready answers, and experience of the world,
and elegance of manner and taste, and
knowledge of exceeding good stories and of
songcraft—in short, there is no more agreeable
companion in the world than I am; and,
if I can show my talents to this man, it is