so alarmed by the sudden disorder, that they importuned me to tell the cause; which I took care not to discover.  My silence created an uneasiness that the physicians could not dispel, because they knew nothing of my distemper, and by their medicines rather inflamed than checked it.  My relations began to despair of my life, when an old lady of our acquaintance, hearing I was ill, came to see me.  She considered me with great attention, and after having examined me, penetrated, I know not how, into the real cause of my illness.  She took my relations aside, and desired all my people would retire out of the room, and leave her with me alone.

When the room was clear, she sat down on the side of my bed.  “My son,” said she, “you have obstinately concealed the cause of your illness; but you have no occasion to reveal it to me.  I have experience enough to penetrate into a secret; you will not deny when I tell you it is love that makes you sick.  I can find a way to cure you, if you will but inform me who that happy lady is, that could move a heart so insensible as yours; for you have the character of a woman-hater, and I was not the last who perceived that such was your disposition; but what I foresaw has come to pass, and I am now glad of the opportunity to employ my talents in relieving your pain.”

The old lady having thus spoken, paused, expecting my answer; but though what she had said had made a strong impression upon me, I durst not lay open to her the bottom of my heart; I only turned to her, and heaved a deep sigh, without replying a word.  “Is it bashfulness,” said she, “that keeps you silent?  Or is it want of confidence in me?  Do you doubt the effect of my promise?  I could mention to you a number of young men of your acquaintance, who have been in the same condition with yourself, and have received relief from me.”

The good lady told me so many more circumstances that I broke silence, declared to her my complaint, pointed out to her the place where I had seen the object which occasioned it, and unravelled all the circumstances of my adventure.  “If you succeed,” added I, “and procure me the happiness of seeing that charming beauty, and revealing to her the passion with which I burn for her, you may depend upon it I will be grateful.”  “My son,” replied the old woman, “I know the lady you speak of; she is, as you rightly judged, the daughter of the first cauzee of this city:  I am not surprised that you are in love with her.  She is the handsomest and most lovely lady in Bagdad, but very proud, and of difficult access.  You know how strict our judges are, in enjoining the punctual observance of the severe laws that confine women; and they are yet more strict in the observation of them in their own families; the cauzee you saw is more rigid in that point than any of the other magistrates.  They are always preaching to their daughters what a heinous crime it is to shew themselves to men; and the girls themselves