" In one instant the mule gave so
vigorous and unexpected a kick into the bowels of the attendant,
that he fell upon his back, heels uppermost, while at the same
moment the minstrel, in his snow-white garments, was precipitated
head foremost into the muddy brook, and for the moment
disappearing, the violin alone could be seen floating on the
surface. A second later, a wretched-looking object, covered with
slime and filth, emerged from the slough; this was Paganini the
second! who, after securing his fiddle, that had stranded on a
mud-bank, scrambled up the steep slope, amidst the roars of
laughter of my people and of ourselves; while the perverse mule,
having turned harmony into discord, kicked up its heels and
galloped off, braying an ode in praise of liberty, as the "Lay of
the last Minstrel." The discomfited fiddler was wiped down by my
Tokrooris, who occasionally burst into renewed fits of laughter
during the operation; the mule was caught, and the minstrel
remounted, and returned home completely out of tune.
On the following morning, at sunrise, I mounted my horse, and,
accompanied by Taher Noor and Bacheet, I rode to pay my respects
to Mek Nimmur.
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