when the mighty mass begins to move, the
spectator is in a tremor of doubt, and hope,
and fear. When the ship rights herself, and
indeed walks the waters like a thing of life,
the excitement is tremendous; he must shout,
he must congratulate himself, his next neighbour,
everybody, upon the successful completion
of the work.

Now, everything had been looked to,
thought of, prepared for, the triumphant
launch of the Sultani Bahri. The only obstacles
between her and the waters were certain
pieces of wood technically called in England
(I know not what their French name may be)
dogshores, and these were being knocked
away by the master shipwright. This operation,
I may remark, was formerly considered
so dangerous that in the royal dockyards it
was undertaken by convicts, who obtained
their liberty if they accomplished the task
without accident. Just as the first stroke of
the hammer became audible, Demetrius the
Diver, who had hitherto been concealed
among the crowd, plunged into the water,
and svam right across the track that the
frigate would probably take on its release
from the slip. A cry of horror burst from
the crowd as he swam directly towards the
ship's stem; for the vessel had begun to
move, and every one expected the rash diver
to be crushed or drowned. But, when he was
within a few feet of the frigate, Demetrius the
Diver threw up his arms, held them aloft for a
moment in a menacing manner, then quietly
subsided on to his back, and floated away
with, the tide. The Sultani Bahri slid down
her ways to a considerable extent, she was
even partially in the water, but she walked
it by no means like a thing of life, for her
stern began to settle down, and, if the truth
must be told, the new frigate of his Imperial
Highness the Sultan — stuck in the mud.

They tried to screw her off, to weight her
off, to float her off, but in vain. "When a ship
sticks in launching, there is frequently
DO resource but to pull her to pieces
where she sticks, and this seemed to be the
most probable fate in store for the Sultani
Bahri. The Effendi was in a fury. The
shipbuilder was desolated; but the Frenchman
only ascribed the misadventure to the
clumsiness of his shipwright, whereas the
Moslem, superstitious like the majority of
his co-religionists, vowed that the failure was
solely owing to the evil eye of the Giaour
diver, Demetrius Omeros. Had the Effendi
been in his own land, a very short and
summary process would have preserved all future
ship launches from the troublesome presence
of Demetri Omeros and his evil eye; but at
Marseilles, in the department of the Bouches
du Rhone, the decapitation, bowstringing, or
drowning, of even a rayah, was not to be
thought of. So, the Effendi was obliged to
be satisfied with giving the strictest orders
for Demetri's exclusion from the ship-
builder's yard in future; and after a delay
of some months, the second frigate (the
first was rotting in the mud) was ready for
launching.

Anxiety was depicted ou the Effendi's face
as he broke a bottle of sherbet over the bows
of the frigate, and named her the Achmedié.
Immediately afterwards a cry burst from the
crowd of "Demetri! Demetri the Diver!"
and, rushing along the platform which ran
round the vessel, the Effendi could descry the
accursed diver holding up his arms as before,
and doubtless blighting the onward progress
of the Achmedié with his evil eye.

Evil or not, a precisely similar disaster
overtook the second frigate, and the launch
was a lamentable failure. The shipbuilder
was in despair. The Effendi went home to
his hotel, cursing, and was about administering
the bastinado to his whole household as a
relief to his feelings, when his interpreter, a
shrewd Greek, one Yanni. ventured to pour
the balm of advice into the ear of indignation.

"Effendi," he said, "this rayah that
dives is doubtless a cunning man, a magician,
and by his spells and incantations has
arrested the ships of my lord the Padishah,
whom Allah preserve, in their progress!
But he is a rayah and a Greek, and a rogue
of course. Let my lord the Effendi bribe
him, and he will remove his spells."

"You are all dogs and sons of dogs"
answered the Effendi, graciously, " but out
of your mouth devoted to the slipper, O
Yanni, comes much wisdom. Send for this
issue of a mangy pig, this diver with the
evil eye."

Demetri was sent for, and in due time
made his appearance, not so much as salaming
to the Effendi, or even removing his hat.
The envoy of the Sultan was sorely tempted
to begin the interview by addressing himself
through the intermediation of a bamboo to
the soles of the diver's feet; but, fear of the
sub-prefect and his gendarmes, and, indeed,
of the magical powers of the. diver himself,
prevented him.

"Dog and slave!" he said, politely, "dog,
that would eat garbage out of the shop of a
Jew butcher, wherefore hast thou bewitched
the ships of our lord and Caliph the Sultan
Mahmoud?"

"I am not come here to swallow dirt,"
answered the diver, coolly, "and if your
words are for dogs, open the window and
throw them out. If you want, anything
with a man who, in Frangistan, is as good as
an Effendi, state your wishes."

"The ships, slave, the ships! ''

"The first two stuck in the mud," said the
Greek; " and the third, with the blessing of
Heaven and St. George of Cappadocia, will
no more float than a Cannon-ball."

"You lie, dog. you lie!" said the Effendi.

"'Tis you who lie, Effendi,'' answered
Demetrius the Diver; "and, moreover, if
you give me the lie again—by St. Luke I will
break your unbelieving jaw!"