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to him by name. The judge at once stopped the procession, and, confronting the nephews, asked:—

“Is your uncle dead or alive?” “Quite dead, my lord.” He turned to the hired mourners. “Is this corpse dead or alive?” “Quite dead, my lord,” came the answer from a hundred throats. “But you can see for yourself that I am alive!” cried the miser wildly. Karakash looked him sternly in the eyes. “Allah forbid,” said he, “that I should allow the evidence of my poor senses, and your bare word, to weigh against this crowd of witnesses. Am I not the impartial judge? Proceed with the funeral!” At this the old man once more fainted away, and in that state was peacefully buried.

VIII

A few of the Jews resident at Jerusalem celebrate, beside the usual Jewish feasts of Passover, Pentecost, Tabernacles, etc., a yearly anniversary which they call “the Saragossan Purim,” in order to commemorate the deliverance of the Jews of Saragossa, the capital of the former kingdom of Arragon, from a great peril. The story of this escape, as recorded in certain small parchment scrolls or Megilloth written in the style and evident imitation of the Roll of Esther, is read in public at each celebration. I had heard of the custom a good many years ago, but on February 13, 1906, having been informed