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

change, this happiest of men, who was privileged to make choice of his own troubles, next tried a fit of the gout, which, being a gentlemanly complaint, had nothing particularly exceptionable about it, except its most intolerable and tremendous painfulness. Hophara did not like it, however, any better than the toothach or the earach; he made sad wry faces at it, but did not stamp about the room, nor did he swear, for that would have been unworthy of his high station, and he was a very particular man in that respect. His friends came about him as before, and pitied him very heartily, and he felt greatly obliged to them for their pity, only he begged they would not come near his toe. He thought again of the wise men, and the more he thought of them, the less he thought of their wisdom. Then, again, in addition to the bodily pain of the gout, he was mortified by the pity so liberally bestowed upon him as being so very unfortunate, when he ought by right to have been the most fortunate man living; for he was permitted to choose whatever trouble he preferred, and to have only that one as long as he liked. Many people have a great many troubles much longer than they like, and nobody is altogether free from trouble; what more, then, can a man reasonably desire, than to have his choice of calamity? Besides this, Hophara had chosen bodily instead of mental pain, because all wise men had said that mental was more afflicting than bodily pain. Still, however, he did not like the gout, and though it was very clear that he was a peculiarly highly-favoured man by virtue of possessing this wonderful book, yet he could not help thinking that he had been quite as well without it. He wanted very much to get rid of the gout, but he was at a loss what to have in its place; and it was not possible for him, while

labouring under this attack, to go to the cave and return the book to the old man from whom he had received it. Then, again, he did not know that he was quite sure of finding the old man at home, if he should go; and what a miserable thing it would be if he should never be able to get rid of this mysterious book, and thus be forced to endure the gout all his life long, or to make choice of some other calamity, which for aught he knew might turn out worse than the gout.

All these thoughts and meditations, added to the bodily pain he endured, were a great annoyance to him, and thus his temper became soured. He became nervous and irritable, and every body observed how much he was altered of late. Now the wise men who had persuaded him that bodily pain was a mere trifle and unworthy of regard, did not come near him while he was suffering with the gout, because perhaps they thought bodily pain beneath the notice of a wise man. Hophara was left, therefore, to the resources of his own wisdom, to get himself out of his present scrape. To get rid of the book while he had the gout, was quite out of the question, therefore he knew he must choose some other trouble; but the difficulty again was, what should he choose? The wise men were not near him to assure him how much more agreeable bodily pain is than mental, and moreover he had recently undergone such bodily pain that he was not disposed to undergo any more if he could possibly help it, and he certainly could help it while he had that wonderful book in his possession. Now between the twinges of that unwelcome visiter the gout, he endeavoured to think what would be the least troublesome trouble that he could have in its stead; but the twinges came on so rapidly that he could not main

tain any continuous train of thought, but was forced to think by fits and starts, interlarding his brief meditations with loud outcries. Indeed, he was almost mad with pain, and that will account perhaps for what follows.

It has been already stated, that Hophara was a very wise and very good man; it may also be added that he was a very good husband to a very good wife. In the midst of his meditations, it somehow came into his mind, that among other sufferings he might be able to undergo the loss of this very good wife. The very thought filled him with alarm and trepidation-nay, it was so very terrible that when it once got into his head he could not get it out again. He tried hard to think of something else, but nothing else would remain in his thoughts. He did not know how far the magic power of his book might extend, perhaps it might bring his wife to life again, if he should happen to feel very uncomfortable in the loss of her. The old man of the cave certainly said nothing about any one coming to life again, but he said that one trouble should continue till another was written in the book; of course, then, if the trouble of the loss of his wife was to cease when he should write another trouble in the wonderful book, his wife must necessarily be restored to him; and yet again he thought, for he had heard such talk from those who did not think so highly of their wives as he did, that the trouble of the loss might cease without the restoration of the person lost, but for his own part he did not know how that could be. Indeed, he might have thought, only perhaps the severe twinges of the gout prevented it, that in the case of his daughter the marriage was not done away with, though the poverty of it was; and that therefore it might probably be the same with the loss of