Fundook.
All the rank and fashion of the place were present; the rank rode on horseback, the fashion followed in a cart drawn by four oxen—this would sound better if it were called an araba—and therein was contained all the beauty of the city of Erzeroom. The distance may have been ten miles; some of the party got there in three quarters of an hour, and others arrived in an hour and three quarters. Among the distinguished guests were two philosophers, one of whom, having lately arrived in these unknown regions, was remarkable for the glorious colors of his waistcoat. This effulgent garment having been admired, the answer was returned in the following mysterious sentence, as I well remember, in a language unknown, as far as my knowledge is experienced, in any nation upon earth: “Zést mon vamme, gui ma tonné ze chilet.” Our admiration of the chilet gave way before the announcement that the carriage and four was approaching the cave, and all sallied forth to receive the lovely damsels that it bore. Through many a quag, o’er many a rock, and many a jolt had those oxen drawn the araba for many a weary hour before they lay down in front of our cave; and now it was the happy lot of those who got there first to hand out of their carriage the admired beauties of Armenia. The carriage stopped, and we were in readiness, our feelings of politeness screwed up to the most perfect tone—
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing:
Wasn’t that a dainty dish
To set before a king?
But the birds did not come out—there was much to be done before that desired object was concluded: first, out came a cushion, then a feather-bed, and then a pretty girl; then another cushion, then another lovely damsel; then three or four more cushions, and another feather-bed, and then the prettiest little girl of all jumped upon the ground, half laughing and half smothered; for such dainty goods would have broken all to bits on those rough roads, if they had not been packed so carefully. The mother of the three graces accompanied them, and, the party being assembled, the great business of life commenced in earnest. Dolmas, and kieufté, and cabobs soon graced the board—not that there was any board, but it sounds well. “Viands,” that is, chickens, lamb stewed with quinces, and all manner of good things, appeared and disappeared, to the wonder of certain hungry Koords who happened to be passing, and who would have been run through with the spits, if not devoured by Fundook, our brave ally, if they had made a row. Corks from foreign bottles of champagne popped in brisk salute. Cooks and kawasses, grooms, arabagis, eiwasses, and heiwans followed the good example set them by their lords, and, “fruges consumere nati,” did their best to follow the end of their creation. Then, and on that occasion only, did many a lantern-jawed, hook-nosed Koord imbibe the unknown potations of Frangistaun. Then, in glorious generosity, did the trusty marmiton dispense the bones of slaughtered lamb, drumsticks of fowl, and crust of pie, whereof repletion dire denied the power to partake. By staggering chiboukgis pipes were next produced, and fragrant coffee, served on salvers bright; and, on soft Persian carpets now reclined, the party enjoyed the scene before them, passing an agreeable afternoon in each other’s society, accompanied, I thought, with some little flirtations between some of the company, which, I suspect, left pleasing recollections on their minds; for though I can not boast that any thing came of it that day, yet not long afterward two marriages were declared between some of those who assisted at the dinner in the cave of Ferhad; and the most anxious chaperon will acknowledge that that was as much as could be expected under the circumstances, seeing that there were but two unmarried ladies of the company.
Afterward I found among my papers the following doleful ditty, purporting to be a translation of Hafiz, on the fertile Persian subject of Ferhad and Shireen; and as the reader is not obliged to read it unless he likes to do so, I subjoin it in memory of the day that I, for my part, passed so pleasantly with many agreeable companions in this unfrequented spot. The accompaniment to the air having been kindly undertaken by Fundook, the minstrel thus begins:
Hafiz, who pass’d his sunny hours