In short, Don Quixote’s last day came, after he had received all the sacraments, and, by many and weighty arguments, showed his abhorrence of the books of knight-errantry.  The scrivener, who was by, said he had never read in any book of chivalry of any knight-errant who had ever died in his bed so quietly and like a good Christian as Don Quixote, who, amidst the compassion and tears of those who were by, gave up the ghost, or, to speak plainly, died; which, when the curate perceived, he desired the scrivener to give him a certificate, how Alonso Quixano the Good, commonly called Don Quixote de la Mancha, had departed out of this present life, and died a natural death.  This testimony he desired, to remove opportunity from any other author but Cid Hamet Benengeli to falsely resuscitate him, and write endless histories of his adventures.

This was the end of the INGENIOUS GENTLEMAN OF LA MANCHA, whose native place Cid Hamet has not thought fit precisely to mention, with design that all the towns and villages in La Mancha should contend amongst themselves for the honor of adopting and keeping him as their own, as the seven cities of Greece did for Homer.  We omit here the lamentations of Sancho, of Don Quixote’s niece and the housekeeper, and the new epitaphs upon his tomb; but Samson Carrasco set this upon it:—­

  “A valiant gentleman lies here,
    So brave that, to his latest breath,
  Immortal glory was his care,
    And made him triumph over death.

Of small account he held the world,
Whose fears its ridicule belied;
And if he like a madman lived,
At least he like a wise one died.”

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS

THE STORY OF ALADDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL LAMP

I

In one of the large and rich cities of China there once lived a tailor named Mustapha.  He was so poor that by the hardest daily labor he could barely support himself and his family, which consisted only of his wife and a son.

This son, Aladdin, was a very careless, idle, and disobedient fellow.  He would leave home early in the morning and play all day in the streets and public places.  When he was old enough, his father tried to teach him the tailor’s trade, but Mustapha no sooner turned his back than the boy was gone for the day.  He was frequently punished, but in vain; and at last the father gave him up as a hopeless idler, and in a few months died of the grief Aladdin caused him.

The boy, now free from restraint, became worse than ever.  Until he was fifteen, he spent all his time with idle companions, never thinking how useless a man this would make of him.  Playing thus with his evil mates one day, a stranger passing by stood to observe him.

The stranger was a person known as the African magician.  Only two days before, he had arrived from Africa, his native country; and, seeing in Aladdin’s face something that showed the boy to be well fitted for his purposes, he had taken pains to learn all that he could find out about him.