which on consideration appeared much lighter than his own. In this state of hesitation and suspense he happened to meet with a friend, who had been the most light-hearted of all he knew, and was envied for his wealth and for the splendour in which he lived. But now his looks were altered, and his brow was corrugated with care. Hophara thought within himself, as he beheld this sad spectacle, that there was very little chance of any relief being gained from this quarter. A natural sympathy with calamity, however, led Hophara to inquire what could be the cause of his sad and melancholy looks.

"Alas!" replied his friend, "I have met with the most serious misfortune that could possibly befal me! I had a daughter as beautiful as light, and as pure as truth, but woe is me-woe is me!"

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Ah, poor man, his daughter, his beautiful daughter is dead!" said Hophara, in a low tone of voice.

“No,” replied the other, "my daughter is not dead, but she is married to a poor man."

"Is that all?" said Hophara; "then make the poor man rich, you have wealth enough."

“Ah, no,” said the other, "I have no superfluous wealth."

"Well," said Hophara, "I wish I had no greater trouble." His magical book was with him, and he forthwith turned aside and wrote therein, "May my daughter be married to a poor man."

Now, he thought that if he had no greater trouble than this, his life might pass pleasantly enough, for he was rich enough to give his child all needful assistance. He returned to his home in much trepidation, anxious to ascertain the efficacy of his wonderful book, and he was

presently satisfied of its power by finding all his household in great consternation and alarm at the sudden disappearance of their master's only daughter. Hophara alone was calm in the general tumult, and all were astonished to see the placidity with which he received the intelligence. In a few days his daughter returned, praying her father's forgiveness, and acknowledging that her flight from home was occasioned by her attachment to one, to a marriage with whom she knew that her father would never give his consent. She confessed that she was married, and she sought only for pardon-for pardon and nothing more. All who knew the pride of Hophara, and his ambition for himself and for his family, were struck with amazement at seeing that he not only forgave his daughter for this serious act of disobedience, but sent for her husband, whom, though but a poor man, he most graciously received and acknowledged as his son-in-law, and to whom he made many valuable and liberal presents.

In an inconceivably short time, however, the money and the valuables which Hophara had given to his sonin-law had all disappeared, and there was need of a further supply, or there was danger that Hophara would be disgraced by the poverty and necessity of his only daughter and his acknowledged son-in-law. A fresh supply of money was given, but with not quite so good a grace as the first, nor did it last much longer. Then more was required, then more still. At length Hophara, finding that serious inroads had been made upon his wealth, began to think that he had made an injudicious choice of a trouble; and forthwith he meditated how this evil might be remedied, and another substituted for it. He had been told by the old man in the cave, that any

trouble would continue with him till he shonld choose another, and write the name of it in the wonderful book. He had chosen that his daughter should be married to a poor man, because he thought that this would be a very light trouble to him, seeing that he had wealth enough of his own, and to spare; but now he began to discover that he had been endeavouring to get rid of this trouble by making the poor man rich, but this he found he could not do, unless he should choose some other trouble, and write the name of it in the book. He was now thrown into a serious perplexity, and thought he had been making a very foolish use of his mysterious book. It had presently become the means of taking away from him a very large portion of his wealth, and it seemed likely to be the means of utterly impoverishing him; for, having once begun to supply the wants of his son-in-law, he could not with much consistency or propriety withhold these supplies, yet he was very sure that they would be all to no purpose so long as the last wish continued in the book; he therefore thought that his best policy would be to put up with the loss that he had already sustained, to write down some other trouble, and then to place his son-in-law above the reach of poverty.

With renewed diligence, but with rather less impetuosity than before, he again set about seeking after some substitute for his present calamity, and resolved within himself that he would consider a little more attentively than before, what might be the consequences of his choice. Therefore, he endeavoured to devise or to imagine some trouble which should not contain within itself the seeds and means of further troubles; one that should not leave him, as the present did, poorer than it found him. He considered various kinds of calamities,

and, having last time made choice of a relative evil, he thought it might now be better to choose one that was personal; and knowing by his talk with wise men, that bodily afflictions were not so great as mental afflictions, he resolved at length to make choice of some bodily aliment; so, as he had never had the toothach, and as a tooth did not seem any great matter, he chose the toothach, and enriched his son-in-law, who forthwith became a very prudent and careful man, not throwing away his money as before. This pleased Hophara very much, only it would have pleased him much more if he had not been at so great an expense of money and of trouble to procure this result. But the toothach did not please him at all; it was a very unpleasant thing indeed; even its novelty was no recommendation to it. Hophara put his hand to his face, and walked about the room stamping and raving like a madman. He could do nothing he could neither eat nor drink-sleeping, too, was quite out of the question; and as for going to court, the very thought was ridiculous, he should be making such grimaces that the King himself and all the courtiers must absolutely laugh at him. He began to think that the wise men, who had told him that the afflictions of the body were less than those of the mind, were not quite so wise as they looked; or he thought that he was not himself over wise, for making such a fuss about a trifle like the toothach ;-but, wise or not wise, he could not help it. All his friends, family, and household, pitied him very much, and recommended a variety of remedies, all of which he knew would be of no use to him;-some advised him to have the tooth taken out, but he knew better, for he knew that if that one were taken out it would leave its malady

to another, and at that rate he might have them all taken out. Having, however, learned wisdom from his former calamity, he determined that he would not throw away his teeth as he had thrown away his money; for it might be possible that by some turn of fortune he might get money again, but teeth once gone could never be restored-for in those days the terrometallic teeth were not invented. However, the toothach must be got rid of by hook or by crook, for Hophara was not philosopher enough to bear that with patience. Indeed, he was in such a passion with the wonderful book, that he actually threw it in the fire with the intention to destroy it; but it was not to be got rid of so easily, for it bounced indignantly out of the fire, scorning to be burnt. So tormented was Hophara with the toothach that he hardly knew what he was doing or what he would have, but at all events he must get rid of the toothach; therefore he begged leave of his magical companion to substitute the earach for the toothach.-No sooner said than done. Alas! Hophara thought that there was not a pin to choose between them. He again wondered what the wise men could mean by speaking so lightly of bodily suffering, and he thought that they deserved to have the toothach or earach for their pains, whichever they preferred; and that they ought to have them both together till they had made up their minds which of the two to keep. Hophara's friends pitied him as much for the earach as they had before for the toothach, and their pity did him as much good in the one case as it had done in the other. Being not a bit more in love with the earach than he had been with the toothach, he was quite as anxious to get rid of that complaint as he had been to get rid of its predecessor. By way of a