Chapter XXVIII
The Two Translations Compared



134. The Blacksmith Who, etc.

Having glanced through the Nights, let us now compare the two famous translations. As we have already mentioned, Burton in his Translator’s Foreword did not do Mr. Payne complete justice, but he pays so many compliments to Mr. Payne’s translation elsewhere that no one can suppose that he desired to underrate the work of his friend. In the Foreword he says that Mr. Payne “succeeds admirably in the most difficult passages and often hits upon choice and special terms and the exact vernacular equivalent of the foreign word so happily and so picturesquely that all future translators must perforce use the same expression under pain of falling far short.” Still this does not go far enough, seeing that, as we said before, he made his translation very largely a paraphrase of Payne’s. Consequently he was able to get done in two broken years (April 1884 to April 1886) and with several other books in hand, work that had occupied Mr. Payne six years (1876-1882). Let us now take Mr. Payne’s rendering and Burton’s rendering of two short tales and put them in juxtaposition. The Blacksmith who could handle Fire without Hurt and Abu Al Hasan and Abu Ja’afar the Leper will suit our purpose admirably.
The portion taken by Burton from Payne are in italics.
Payne
Vol. V. p. 25
Burton
Vol. V. p. 271
(Lib. Ed., vol. iv., p. 220)
THE BLACKSMITH WHO COULD HANDLE FIRE WITHOUT HURT
THE BLACKSMITH WHO COULD HANDLE FIRE WITHOUT HURT


 A certain pious man once heard that there abode in such a town a blacksmith who could put his hand into the fire and pull out the red-hot iron, without its doing him any hurt.  So he set out for the town in question and enquiring for the blacksmith, watched him at work and saw him do as had been reported to him.  He waited till he had made an end of his day's work, then going up to him, saluted him and said to him, "I  would fain be thy guest this night."  "With all my heart," replied the smith, and carried him to his house, where they supped together and lay down to sleep.  The guest watched his host, but found no sign of [special] devoutness in him and said to himself.  "Belike he concealeth himself from me."  So he lodged with him a second and a third night, but found that he did no more than observe the ordinary letter of the law and rose but little in the night [to pray]. At last he said to him, "O my brother, I have heard of the gift with which God hath favoured thee and have seen the truth of it with mine eyes. Moreover, I have taken note of thine assiduity [in religious exercises], but find in thee no special fervour of piety, such as distinguisheth those in whom such miraculous gifts are manifest. "Whence, then, cometh this to thee?" "I will tell thee," answered the smith. It reached the ears of a certain pious man that there abode in such a town a blacksmith who could put his hand into the fire and pull out the iron red-hot, without the flames doing him aught of hurt. So he set out for the town in question and asked for the blacksmith; and when the man was shown to him; he watched him at work and saw him do as had been reported to him. He waited till he had made an end of his day's work; then, going up to him, saluted him with the salam and said, "I would be thy guest this night."  Replied the smith, "With gladness and goodly gree!" and carried him to his place, where they supped together and lay down to sleep. The guest watched but saw no sign in his host of praying through the night or of special devoutness, and said in his mind, "Haply he hideth himself from me."  So he lodged with him a second and a third night, but found that he did not exceed the devotions prescribed by the law and custom of the Prophet and rose but little in the dark hours to pray. At last he said to him, "O my brother, I have heard of the gift with which Allah hath favoured thee, and have seen the truth of it with mine eyes.  Moreover, I have taken note of thine assiduity in religious exercises, but find in thee no such ang1033 piety as distinguished those who work saintly miracles; whence,then cometh this to thee?" "I will tell thee," answered the smith.
"Know that I was once passionately enamoured of a certain damsel and required her many a time of love, but could not prevail upon her, for that she still clave fast unto chastity. Presently there came a year of drought and hunger and hardship; food failed and there befell a sore famine in the land. I was sitting one day in my house, when one knocked at the door; so I went out and found her standing there; and she said to me, 'O my brother, I am stricken with excessive hunger, and I lift mine eyes to thee, beseeching thee to feed me for God's sake!' Quoth I, 'Dost thou not know how I love thee and what I have suffered for thy sake! I will give thee no whit of food, except thou yield thyself to me.' But she said, 'Better death than disobedience to God.' Then she went away and returned after two days with the same petition for food. I made her a like answer, and she entered and sat down, being nigh upon death. I set food before her, whereupon her eyes ran over with tears, and she said, 'Give me to eat for the love of God, to whom belong might and majesty!' 'Not so, by Allah,' answered I, 'except thou yield thyself to me.' Quoth she,
'Better is death to me than the wrath of God the Most High.' And she left the food untouched[FN#461] and went away repeating the following verses:
"Know that I was once passionately enamoured of a slave girl and oft-times sued her for loveliesse, but could not prevail upon her, because she still held fast by her chastity.  Presently there came a year of drought and hunger and hardship, food failed, and there befell a sore famine.  As I was sitting one day at home, somebody knocked at the door; so I went out, and, behold, she was standing there; and she said to me, 'O my brother, I am sorely an hungered and I lift mine eyes to thee, beseeching thee to feed me, for Allah's sake!'  Quoth I, 'Wottest thou not how I love thee and what I have suffered for thy sake?  Now I will not give thee one bittock of bread except thou yield thy person to me.'  Quoth she, 'Death, but not disobedience to the Lord! 'Then she went away and returned after two days with the same prayer for food as before.  I made her a like answer, and she entered and sat down in my house, being nigh upon death.  I set food before her, whereupon her eyes brimmed with tears, and she cried, 'Give me meat for the love of Allah, to whom belong Honour and Glory!'  But I answered 'Not so, by Allah, except thou yield thyself to me.' Quoth she, 'Better is death to me than the wrath and wreak of Allah the Most Highest; and she rose and left the food untouched[FN#461] and went away repeating these couplets:
O, Thou, the only God, whose grace embraceth all that be, Thine ears have heard my moan, Thine eyes have seen my misery;
O, Thou, the One, whose grace doth all the world embrace; Thine ears have heard, Thine eyes have seen my case!
Indeed, privation and distress are heavy on my head; I cannot tell of all the woes that do beleaguer me.
Privation and distress have dealt me heavy blows; the woes that weary me no utterance can trace.
I'm like a man athirst, that looks upon a running stream, yet may not drink a single draught of all that he doth see.
I am like one athirst who eyes the landscape's eye, yet may not drink a draught of streams that rail and race.
My flesh would have me buy its will, alack, its pleasures flee!  The sin that pays their price abides to all eternity.
My flesh would tempt me by the sight of savoury food whose joys shall pass away and pangs maintain their place.
[The girl, "worn out with want," came a third time, and met with the
same answer.  But then remorse seized upon the blacksmith and he
bade her, "eat, and fear not."]
"When she heard this she raised her eyes to heaven and said,
"Then she raised her eyes to heaven and said,
"'O my God, if this man be sincere, I pray Thee forbid fire to do him hurt in this world and the next, for Thou art He that answereth prayer and art powerful to do whatsoever Thou wilt!'
"'O my God, if this man say sooth, I pray thee forbid fire to harm him in this world and the next, for Thou over all things art Omnipotent and Prevalent in answering the prayer of the penitent!'
"Then I left her and went to put out the fire in the brasier.  Now the time was the winter-cold, and a hot coal fell on my body; but by the ordinance of God (to whom belong might and majesty), I felt no pain and it was born in upon me that her prayer had been answered.
Then I left her and went to put out the fire in the brazier.  Now the season was winter and the weather cold, and a live coal fell on my body, but by the decree of Allah (to whom be Honour and Glory!) I felt no pain, and it became my conviction that her prayer had been answered.
[The girl then praised God, who "straightway took her soul to Him."
The story finishes with some verses which are rendered by Payne and
Burton each according to his wont.]



135. Abu al-Hasan.

We will next take “Abu al-Hasan and Abu Ja’afar the Leper.”

Payne
Burton
V. 49
V. 294
(Lib. Ed., iv., 242)
ABOULHUSN ED DURRAJ
AND ABOU JAAFER THE
LEPER
ABU AL-HASAN
AND
ABU JA'AFAR THE LEPER
Quoth Aboulhusn ed Durraj, I had been many times to Mecca (which God increase in honour) and the folk used to follow me by reason of my knowledge of the road and the watering-places. It chanced one year that I was minded to make the pilgrimage to the Holy House of God and visit the tomb of His prophet (on whom be peace and blessing), and I said to myself, "I know the road and will go alone." So I set out and journeyed till I came to El Cadesiyeh, and entering the Mosque there, saw a leper seated in the prayer-niche. When he saw me, he said to me, "O Aboulhusn, I crave thy company to Mecca." Quoth I to myself, "I wished to avoid companions, and how shall I company with lepers?" So I said to him, "I will bear no one company," and he was silent.
I had been many times to Mecca (Allah increase its honour!) and the folk used to follow me for my knowledge of the road and remembrance of the water stations.  It happened one year that I was minded to make the pilgrimage to the Holy House and visitation of the tomb of His Prophet (on whom be blessing and the Peace!) and I said in myself.  "I well know the way and will fare alone."  So I set out and journeyed till I came to Al-Kadisiyah, and entering the Mosque there, saw a man suffering from lineblack leprosy seated in the prayer-niche.  Quoth he on seeing me, "O Abu al-Hasan, I crave thy company to Meccah."  Quoth I to myself, "I fled from all my companions and how shall I company with lepers." So I said to him, "I will bear no man company," and he was silent at my words.
Next day I continued my journey alone, till I came to Acabeh, where I entered the Mosque and was amazed to find the leper seated in the prayer- niche. "Glory be to God," said I in myself. "How hath this fellow foregone me hither?" But he raised his eyes to me and said, smiling, "O, Aboulhusn, He doth for the weak that which the strong wonder at." I passed that night in perplexity, confounded at what I had seen, and in the morning set out again by myself; but when I came to Arafat and entered the mosque, behold, there was the leper seated in the niche! So I threw myself upon him and kissing is feet, said, "O my lord, I crave thy company." But he said, "This may nowise be." Whereupon I fell a-weeping and lamenting, and he said: "Peace: weeping will avail thee nothing," And he recited the following verses:
Next day I walked on alone, till I came to Al-Akabah, where I entered the mosque and found the leper seated in the prayer niche.  So I said to myself, "Glory be to Allah! how hath this fellow preceded me hither."  But he raised his head to me and said with a smile, "O Abu al-Hasan, He doth for the weak that which surpriseth the strong!" I passed that night confounded at what I had seen; and, as soon as morning dawned, set out again by myself; but when I came to Arafat and entered the mosque, behold! there was the leper seated in the niche.  So I threw myself upon him and kissing his feet said, "O my lord, I crave thy company."  But he answered, "This may in no way be."  Then I began weeping and wailing at the loss of his company when he said, "Spare thy tears, which will avail thee naught!" and he recited these couplets:
For my estrangement dost thou weep,--whereas it came from thee,--And restoration dost implore, when none, alas! may be?
Why dost thou weep when I depart and thou didst parting claim; and cravest union when we ne'er shall re-unite the same?
Thou sawst my weakness and disease, as it appeared, and saidst, "He goes, nor comes, or night, or day, for this his malady."
Thou lookedest on nothing save my weakness and disease; and saidst, "Nor goes, nor comes, or night, or day, this sickly frame."
Seest not that God (exalted be His glory) to His slave vouchsafeth all he can conceive of favour fair and free!
Seest not how Allah (glorified His glory ever be!) deigneth to grant His slave's petition wherewithal he came.
If I, to outward vision, be as it appears and eke in body, for despite of fate, e'en that which thou dost see.
If I, to eyes of men be that and only that they see, and this my body show itself so full of grief and grame.
And eke no victual though I have, unto the holy place where crowds unto my Lord resort, indeed, to carry me.
And I have nought of food that shall supply me to the place where crowds unto my Lord resort impelled by single aim.
I have a Maker, hidden are His bounties unto me; yea, there's no parting me from Him, and without peer is He.
I have a high Creating Lord whose mercies aye are hid; a Lord who hath none equal and no fear is known to Him.
Depart from me in peace and leave me and my strangerhood; For with the lonely exile still the One shall company.
So fare thee safe and leave me lone in strangerhood to wone. For He the only One, consoles my loneliness so lone.
So I left him and continued my journey; and every stage I came to, I found him before me, till I came to Medina, where I lost sight of him and could hear no news of him. Here I met Abou Yezid el Bustani and Abou Beker es Shibli and a number of other doctors, to whom I told my case, and they said, "God forbid that thou shouldst gain his company after this! This was Abou Jaafer the leper, in whose name, at all tides, the folk pray for rain, and by whose blessings prayers are answered." When I heard this, my longing for his company redoubled and I implored God to reunite me with him. Whilst I was standing on Arafat, one plucked me from behind, so I turned and behold, it was Abou Jaafer. At this sight I gave a loud cry and fell down in a swoon; but when I came to myself, he was gone.
Accordingly I left him, but every station I came to, I found he had foregone me, till I reached Al-Madinah, where I lost sight of him, and could hear no tidings of him.  Here I met Abu Yazid al-Bustami and Abu Bakr al-Shibli and a number of other Shaykhs and learned men to whom with many complaints I told my case, and they said, "Heaven forbid that thou shouldst gain his company after this!  He was Abu Ja'afar the leper, in whose name folk at all times pray for rain and by whose blessing prayers their end attain." When I heard their words, my desire for his company redoubled and I implored the Almighty to reunite me with him.  Whilst I was standing on Arafat one pulled me from behind, so I turned and behold, it was my man.  At this sight I cried out with a loud cry and fell down in a fainting fit; but when I came to myself he had disappeared from my sight.
This increased my yearning for him and the ways were straitened upon me and I prayed God to give me sight of him; nor was it but a few days after when one pulled me from behind, and I turned, and behold, it was he again. Quoth he, "I conjure thee, ask thy desire of me." So I begged him to pray three prayers to God for me; first, that He would make me love poverty; secondly, that I might never lie down to sleep upon known provision, and thirdly, that He, the Bountiful One, would vouchsafe me to look upon His face. So he prayed for me, as I wished, and departed from me. And, indeed, God hath granted me the first two prayers; for He hath made me in love with poverty, so that, by Allah, there is nought in the world dearer to me than it, and since such a year, I have never lain down upon assured provision; yet hath He never let me lack of aught. As for the third prayer, I trust that He will vouchsafe me that also, even as He hath granted the two others, for He is bountiful and excellently beneficient. And may God have mercy on him who saith:
This increased my yearning for him and the ceremonies were tedious to me, and I prayed Almighty Allah to give me sight of him; nor was it but a few days after, when lo! one pulled me from behind, and I turned and it was he again.  Thereupon he said, "Come, I conjure thee, and ask thy want of me."  So I begged him to pray for me three prayers: first, that Allah would make me love poverty; secondly, that I might never lie down at night upon provision assured to me; and thirdly, that he would vouchsafe me to look upon His bountiful face.  So he prayed for me as I wished, and departed from me.  And indeed Allah hath granted me what the devotee asked in prayer; to begin with he hath made me so love poverty that, by the Almighty! there is nought in the world dearer to me than it, and secondly since such a year I have never lain down to sleep upon assured provision, withal hath He never let me lack aught.  As for the third prayer, I trust that he will vouchsafe me that also, even as He hath granted the two precedent, for right Bountiful and Beneficient is His Godhead, and Allah have mercy on him who said;
Renouncement, lowliness, the fakir's garments be; In patched and tattered clothes still fares the devotee.
Garb of Fakir, renouncement, lowliness; His robe of tatters and of rags his dress;
Pallor adorneth him, as on their latest nights, The moons with pallor still embellished thou mayst see.
And pallor ornamenting brow as though 'Twere wanness such as waning crescents show.
Long rising up by night to pray hath wasted him; And from his lids the tears stream down. as 'twere a sea.
Wasted him prayer a-through the long-lived night, And flooding tears ne'er cease to dim his sight.
The thought of God to him his very housemate is; For bosom friend by night, th' Omnipotent hath he.
Memory of Him shall cheer his lonely room; Th' Almighty nearest is in nightly gloom.
God the Protector helps the in his need; And birds and beasts no less to succour him agree.
The Refuge helpeth such Fakir in need; Help e'en the cattle and the winged breed;
On his account, the wrath of God on men descends, And by his grace, the rains fall down on wood and lea.
Allah for sake of him of wrath is fain, And for the grace of him shall fall the rain;
And if he pray one day to do away a plague, The oppressor's slain and men from tyrants are made free;
And if he pray one day for plague to stay, 'Twill stay, and 'bate man's wrong and tyrants slay.
For all the folk are sick, afflicted and diseased, And he's the pitying leach withouten stint or fee.
While folk are sad, afflicted one each, He in his mercy's rich, the generous leach;
His forehead shines; an thou but look upon his face, Thy heart is calmed, the lights of heaven appear to thee.
Bright shines his brow; an thou regard his face Thy heart illumined shines by light of grace.
O thou that shunnest these, their virtues knowing not, Woe's thee! Thou'rt shut from them by thine iniquity.
O thou that shunnest souls of worth innate, Departs thee (woe to thee!) of sins the weight.
Thou think'st them to o'ertake, for all thou'rt fettered fast; Thy sins from thy desire do hinder thee, perdie.
Thou thinkest to overtake them, while thou bearest Follies, which slay thee whatso way thou farest.
Thou wouldst to them consent and rivers from thine eyes Would run from them, if thou their excellence could'st see.
Didst not their worth thou hadst all honour showed And tears in streamlets from thine eyes had flowed.
Uneath to him to smell, who's troubled with a rheum, Are flowers; the broker knows what worth the garments be.
To catarrh-troubled men flowers lack their smell; And brokers ken for how much clothes can sell;
So supplicate thy Lord right humbly for His grace And Providence, belike, shall help thy constancy;
So haste and with thy Lord re-union sue, And haply fate shall lend thee aidance due.
And thou shalt win thy will and from estrangement's stress And eke rejection's pains shall be at rest and free.
Rest from rejection and estrangement stress, And joy thy wish and will shall choicely bless.
The asylum of His grace is wide enough for all That seek; The one true God, the Conqueror, is He!
His court wide open for the suer is dight:-- One, very God, the Lord, th' Almighty might.



We may also compare the two renderings of that exquisite and tender
little poem "Azizeh's Tomb"[FN#462] which will be found in the
"Tale of Aziz and Azizeh."

Payne
Burton
I passed by a ruined tomb in the midst of a garden way, Upon whose letterless stone seven blood-red anemones lay.
I past by a broken tomb amid a garth right sheen, Whereon on seven blooms of Nu'aman glowed with cramoisie.
"Who sleeps in this unmarked grave?"  I said, and the earth, "Bend low; For a lover lies here and waits for the Resurrection Day."
Quoth I, "Who sleepeth in this tomb?"  Quoth answering earth, "Before a lover Hades-tombed bend reverently."
"God keep thee, O victim of love!"  I cried, "and bring thee to dwell In the highest of all the heavens of Paradise,I pray!
Quoth I, "May Allah help thee, O thou slain of love, And grant thee home in heaven and Paradise-height to see!
"How wretched are lovers all, even in the sepulchre, For their very tombs are covered with ruin and decay!
"Hapless are lovers all e'en tombed in their tombs,Where amid living folk the dust weighs heavily!
"Lo! if I might, I would plant thee a garden round about, and with my streaming tears the thirst of its flowers allay!"
"Fain would I plant a garden blooming round thy grave And water every flower with tear-drops flowing free!"[FN#463]




136. The Summing Up.

The reader will notice from these citations:

(1) That, as we have already said, and as Burton himself partly admitted, Burton’s translation is largely a paraphrase of Payne’s. This is particularly noticeable in the latter half of the Nights. He takes hundreds--nay thousands--of sentences and phrases from Payne, often without altering a single word.[FN#464] If it be urged that Burton was quite capable of translating the Nights without drawing upon the work of another, we must say that we deeply regret that he allowed the opportunity to pass, for he had a certain rugged strength of style, as the best passages in his Mecca and other books show. In order to ensure originality he ought to have translated every sentence before looking to see how Payne put it, but the temptation was too great for a very busy man--a man with a hundred irons in the fire--and he fell.[FN#465]

(2) That, where there are differences, Payne’s translation is invariably the clearer, finer and more stately of the two. Payne is concise, Burton diffuse.[FN#466]

(3) That although Burton is occasionally happy and makes a pat couplet, like the one beginning “Kisras and Caesars,” nevertheless Payne alone writes poetry, Burton’s verse being quite unworthy of so honourable a name. Not being, like Payne, a poet and a lord of language; and, as he admits, in his notes, not being an initiate in the methods of Arabic Prosody, Burton shirked the isometrical rendering of the verse. Consequently we find him constantly annexing Payne’s poetry bodily, sometimes with acknowledgement, oftener without. Thus in Night 867 he takes half a page. Not only does he fail to reproduce agreeably the poetry of the Nights, but he shows himself incapable of properly appreciating it. Notice, for example, his remark on the lovely poem of the Fakir at the end of the story of “Abu Al-Hasan and Abu Ja’afer the Leper,” the two versions of which we gave on a preceding page. Burton calls it “sad doggerel,” and, as he translates it, so it is. But Payne’s version, with its musical subtleties and choice phrases, such as “The thought of God to him his very housemate is,” is a delight to the ear and an enchantment of the sense. Mr. Payne in his Terminal Essay singles out the original as one of the finest pieces of devotional verse in the Nights; and worthy of Vaughan or Christina Rossetti. The gigantic nature of Payne’s achievement will be realised when we mention that The Arabian Nights contains the equivalent of some twenty thousand decasyllabic lines of poetry, that is to say more than there are in Milton’s Paradise Lost, and that he has rendered faithfully the whole of this enormous mass in accordance with the intricate metrical scheme of the original, and in felicitous and beautiful language.

(4) That Burton, who was well read in the old English poets, also introduces beautiful words. This habit, however, is more noticeable in other passages where we come upon cilice,[FN#467] egromancy,[FN#468] verdurous,[FN#469] vergier,[FN#470] rondure,[FN#471] purfled,[FN#472] &c. Often he uses these words with excellent effect, as, for example, “egromancy,”[FN#473] in the sentence: “Nor will the egromancy be dispelled till he fall from the horse;” but unfortunately he is picturesque at all costs. Thus he constantly puts “purfled” where he means “embroidered” or “sown,” and in the “Tale of the Fisherman and the Jinni,” he uses incorrectly the pretty word “cucurbit”[FN#474] to express a brass pot; and many other instances might be quoted. His lapses, indeed, indicate that he had no real sense of the value of words. He uses them because they are pretty, forgetting that no word is attractive except in its proper place, just as colours in painting owe their value to their place in the general colour scheme. He took most of his beautiful words from our old writers, and a few like ensorcelled[FN#475] from previous translators. Unfortunately, too, he spoils his version by the introduction of antique words that are ugly, uncouth, indigestible and yet useless. What, for example, does the modern Englishman make of this, taken from the “Tale of the Wolf and the Fox,” “Follow not frowardness, for the wise forbid it; and it were most manifest frowardness to leave me in this pit draining the agony of death and dight to look upon mine own doom, whereas it lieth in thy power to deliver me from my stowre?”[FN#476] Or this: “O rare! an but swevens[FN#477] prove true,” from “Kamar-al-Zalam II.” Or this “Sore pains to gar me dree,” from “The Tale of King Omar,” or scores of others that could easily be quoted.[FN#478]

Burton, alas! was also unscrupulous enough to include one tale which, he admitted to Mr. Kirby, does not appear in any redaction of the Nights, namely that about the misfortune that happened to Abu Hassan on his Wedding day.[FN#479] “But,” he added, “it is too good to be omitted.” Of course the tale does not appear in Payne. To the treatment meted by each translator to the coarsenesses of the Nights we have already referred. Payne, while omitting nothing, renders such passages in literary language, whereas Burton speaks out with the bluntness and coarseness of an Urquhart.

In his letter to Mr. Payne, 22nd October 1884, he says of Mr. Payne’s translation, “The Nights are by no means literal but very readable which is the thing.” He then refers to Mr. Payne’s rendering of a certain passage in the “Story of Sindbad and the Old Man of the Sea,” by which it appears that the complaint of want of literality refers, as usual, solely to the presentable rendering of the offensive passages. “I translate,” he says **********. People will look fierce, but ce n’est pas mon affaire.” The great value of Burton’s translation is that it is the work of a man who had travelled in all the countries in which the scenes are laid; who had spent years in India, Egypt, Syria, Turkey and the Barbary States, and had visited Mecca; who was intimately acquainted with the manners and customs of the people of those countries, and who brought to bear upon his work the experience of a lifetime. He is so thoroughly at home all the while. Still, it is in his annotations and not in his text that he really excells. The enormous value of these no one would now attempt to minimize.

All over the world, as Sir Walter Besant says, “we have English merchants, garrisons, consuls, clergymen, lawyers, physicians, engineers, living among strange people, yet practically ignorant of their manners and thoughts. .... it wants more than a knowledge of the tongue to become really acquainted with a people.” These English merchants, garrisons, consults and others are strangers in a strange land. It is so very rare that a really unprejudiced man comes from a foreign country to tell us what its people are like, that when such a man does appear we give him our rapt attention. He may tell us much that will shock us, but that cannot be helped.



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