the people. Perhaps the reader will excuse me for giving from memory, a brief one, as a specimen:
"A wandering minstrel had heard that a certain king was very liberal in his gifts to artists of merit, and having a profound conviction of his own abilities as a vocalist, set out for the royal city. Having reached it, he took lodgings, and every evening, seating himself on the verandah, sang in his most captivating style, hoping that the fame of his skill would come to the ears of his majesty, and that he would be summoned to perform in the royal presence, and bask in the sunshine of the royal favour. While thus regaling the passers-by, he noticed that the wife of the washerman who lived next door, was always melted to tears by his music, and as he proceeded, sobbed and wept profusely. Flattered by this tribute to his musical powers, the minstrel said to her, one evening, 'My friend! do not be thus overcome! Why should you weep when I sing?' To which she replied, 'Ah, sir! I had such a fine donkey, and so useful, too; but he died, and now I never hear your voice without thinking of my poor lost donkey,' and again she broke out into uncontrollable grief. The minstrel concluded,
