The following passage is an excerpt from The Wonderful Lamp in The Arabian Nights edited by Kate Douglas Wiggin and Nora A. Smith introducing Aladdin’s story.

In the capital of one of the large and rich provinces of the kingdom of China there lived a tailor, named Mustapha, who was so poor that he could hardly, by his

5 daily labour, maintain himself and his family, which consisted of a wife and son.

His son, who was called Aladdin, had been brought up in a very careless and

10 idle manner, and by that means had contracted many vicious habits. He was obstinate and disobedient to his father and mother, who, when he grew up, could not keep him within doors. He

15 was in the habit of going out early in the morning and would stay out all day, playing in the streets with idle children of his own age.

When he was old enough to learn a

20 trade, his father, not being able to put him out to any other, took him into his own shop and taught him how to use his needle: but neither fair words nor the fear of chastisement were capable of

25 fixing his lively genius. All his father’s endeavours to keep him to his work were in vain; for no sooner was his back turned than he was gone for that day. Mustapha chastised him, but Aladdin

30 was incorrigible, and his father, to his great grief, was forced to abandon him to his idleness and was so much troubled at not being able to reclaim him, that it threw him into a fit of

35 sickness, of which he died in a few months.

The mother, finding that her son would not follow his father’s business, shut up the shop, sold off the implements of

40 trade, and with the money she received for them, and what she could get by spinning cotton, thought to maintain herself and her son.

Aladdin, who was now no longer

45 restrained by the fear of a father, and who cared so little for his mother that whenever she chid him he would abuse her, gave himself entirely over to his idle habits and was never out of the

50  streets from his companions. This course he followed till he was fifteen years old without giving his mind to any useful pursuit or the least reflection on what would become of him. In this

55 situation, as he was one day playing with his vagabond associates, a stranger passing by stood to observe him.

This stranger was a sorcerer called the African magician as he was a native of

60 Africa, and had been but two days arrived from thence.

The African magician, who was a good physiognomist, observing in Aladdin’s countenance something absolutely

65 necessary for the execution of the design he was engaged in, inquired artfully about his family, who he was, and what were his inclinations; and when he had learned all he desired to

70 know, went up to him, and taking him aside from his comrades, said: “Child, was not your father called Mustapha, the tailor?” “Yes, sir,” answered the boy; “but he has been dead a long time.”

75 At these words, the African magician threw his arms about Aladdin’s neck, and kissed him several times with tears in his eyes. Aladdin, who observed his tears, asked him what made him weep.

80 “Alas! my son,” cried the African magician with a sigh, “how can I forbear? I am your uncle; your worthy father was my own brother. I have been many years abroad and now I am come

85 home with the hopes of seeing him; you tell me he is dead. But it is some relief to my affliction that I knew you at first sight; you are so like him.” Then he asked Aladdin, putting his hand into his

90 purse, where his mother lived, and as soon as he had informed him, gave him a handful of small money, saying: “Go,

my son, to your mother; give my love to her and tell her that I will visit her to- morrow that I may have the satisfaction of seeing where my good brother lived so long.”

As soon as the African magician left his newly-adopted nephew, Aladdin ran to his mother, overjoyed at the money his uncle had given him. “Mother,” said he, “have I an uncle?” “No, child,” replied his mother, “you have no uncle by your father’s side, or mine.” “I am just now come,” said Aladdin, “from a man who says he is my uncle on my father’s side. He cried and kissed me when I told him my father was dead; and to show you that what I tell you is truth,” added he, pulling out the money, “see what he has given me? He charged me to give his love to you and to tell you that to- morrow he will come and pay you a visit, that he may see the house my father lived and died in.” “Indeed, child,” replied the mother, “your father had a brother, but he has been dead a long time, and I never heard of another.”

The following edited passage is taken from Popular Law-Making by Frederic Jesup Stimson on Early English Legislation and the Magna Carta.

Parliament began avowedly to make new laws in the thirteenth century; but the number of such laws concerning private relations—private civil law—remained,

5 for centuries, small. You could digest them all into a book of thirty or forty pages. And even to Charles the First all the statutes of the realm fill but five volumes. The legislation under Cromwell

10 was all repealed; but the bulk, both under him and after, was far greater. For legislation seems to be considered a democratic idea; “judge-made law” to be thought aristocratic. And so in our

15 republic; especially as, during the Revolution, the sole power was vested in our legislative bodies, and we tried to cover a still wider field, with democratic legislatures dominated by radicals. Thus

20  at first the American people got the notion of law-making; of the making of new law, by legislatures, frequently elected; and in that most radical period of all, from about 1830 to 1860, the time of

25 “isms” and reforms—full of people who wanted to legislate and make the world good by law, with a chance to work in thirty different States—the result has been that the bulk of legislation in this

30  country, in the first half of the last century, is probably one thousandfold the entire law-making of England for the five centuries preceding. And we have by no means got over it yet; probably the output

35 of legislation in this country to-day is as great as it ever was. If any citizen thinks that anything is wrong, he, or she (as it is almost more likely to be), rushes to some legislature to get a new law passed.

40 Absolutely different is this idea from the old English notion of law as something already existing. They have forgotten that completely, and have the modern American notion of law, as a ready-made

45 thing, a thing made to-day to meet the emergency of to-morrow. They have gotten over the notion that any

parliament, or legislature, or sovereign, should only sign the law—and I say sign

50 advisedly because he doesn’t enact it, doesn’t create it, but signs a written statement of law already existing; all idea that it should be justified by custom, experiment, has been forgotten. And here

55 is the need and the value of this our study; for the changes that are being made by new legislation in this country are probably more important to-day than anything that is being done by the

60 executive or the judiciary—the other two departments of the government.

But before coming down to our great mass of legislation here it will be wise to consider the early English legislation,

65 especially that part which is alive to-day, or which might be alive to-day. I mentioned one moment ago thirty pages as possibly containing the bulk of it. I once attempted to make an abstract of

70 such legislation in early England as is significant to us to-day in this country; not the merely political legislation, for ours is a sociological study. We are concerned with those statutes which

75 affect private citizens, individual rights, men and women in their lives and businesses; not matters of state, of the king and the commons, or the constitution of government. Except incidentally, we

80 shall not go into executive or political questions, but the sociological—I wish there were some simpler word for it—let us say, the human legislation; legislation that concerns not the government, the

85 king, or the state, but each man in his relations to every other; that deals with property, marriage, divorce, private rights, labor, the corporations, combinations, trusts, taxation, rates,

90 police power, and the other great questions of the day, and indeed of all time.

And Parliament did not begin by being a law-making body. Its legislative functions

95 were not very active, as they were confined to declaring what the law was; more important were its executive and

judicial functions. In modern English government, particularly in our own,

100 one of the basic principles is that of the three departments, executive, legislative, and judicial; the Norman or Roman theory rather reposed all power in one; that is, in the sovereign, commonly, of course, the

105 king, the others being theoretically his advisers or servants. In England, to-day, the real sovereign is the Parliament; the merest shadow of sovereignty is left to the executive, the king, and none

110 whatever given the judicial branch. In this country we preserve the three branches distinct, though none, not all three together, are sovereign; it is the people who are that.

Passage 1, The Minds and Manners of Wild Animals: A Book of Personal Observation by Hornaday, discusses his methodology used to understand an ape’s mind. Passage 2, taken from Anecdotes of the Habit and Instinct of Animals by Mrs. R. Lee, discusses her close personal examination of monkeys.

Passage 1

In the study of animal minds, much depends upon the method employed. It seems to me that the problem-box method of the investigators of “animal behavior”

5 leaves much to be desired. Certainly it is not calculated to develop the mental status of animals along lines of natural mental progression. To place a wild creature in a great artificial contrivance,

10 fitted with doors, cords, levers, passages and what not, is enough to daze or frighten any timid animal out of its normal state of mind and nerves. To put a wild sapajou monkey,— weak, timid and

15 afraid,—in a strange and formidable prison box filled with strange machinery, and call upon it to learn or to invent strange mechanical processes, is like bringing a boy of ten years up to a four-

20 cylinder duplex Hoe printing-and-folding press, and saying to him: “Now, go ahead and find out how to run this machine, and print both sides of a signature upon it.”

The average boy would shrink from the

25 mechanical monster, and have no stomach whatever for “trial by error.”

I think that the principle of determining the mind of a wild animal along the lines of the professor is not the best way. It

30 should be developed along the natural lines of the wild-animal mind. It should be stimulated to do what it feels most inclined to do, and educated to achieve real mental progress.

35 I think that the ideal way to study the minds of apes, baboons and monkeys would be to choose a good location in a tropical or sub- tropical climate that is neither too wet nor too dry, enclose an

40  area of five acres with an unclimbable

fence, and divide it into as many corrals as there are species to be experimented upon. Each corral would need a shelter house and indoor playroom. The stage

45 properties should be varied and abundant, and designed to stimulate curiosity as well as activity.

Somewhere in the program I would try to teach orang-utans and chimpanzees the

50 properties of fire, and how to make and tend fires. I would try to teach them the seed-planting idea, and the meaning of seedtime and harvest. I would teach sanitation and cleanliness of habit,—a

55 thing much more easily done than most persons suppose. I would teach my apes to wash dishes and to cook, and I am sure that some of them would do no worse than some human members of the

60 profession who now receive $50 per month, or more, for spoiling food.

In one corral I would mix up a chimpanzee, an orang-utan, a golden baboon and a good-tempered rhesus

65 monkey. My apes would begin at two years old, because after seven or eight years of age all apes are difficult, or even impossible, as subjects for peaceful experimentation.

70 I would try to teach a chimpanzee the difference between a noise and music, between heat and cold, between good food and bad food.

Passage 2

That monkeys enjoy movement, that they

75 delight in pilfering, in outwitting each other and their higher brethren—men; that they glory in tearing and destroying the works of art by which they are surrounded in a domestic state; that they

80 lay the most artful plans to affect their purposes, is all perfectly true; but the terms mirthful and merry, seem to me to be totally misapplied, in reference to their feelings and actions; for they do all in

85 solemnity and seriousness. Do you stand under a tree, whose thick foliage completely screens you from the sun, and you hope to enjoy perfect shade and

repose; a slight rustling proves that

90    companions are near; presently a broken twig drops upon you, then another, you raise your eyes, and find that hundreds of other eyes are staring at you. In another minute you see the grotesque faces to

95    which those eyes belong, making grimaces, as you suppose, but it is no such thing, they are solemnly contemplating the intruder; they are not pelting him in play, it is their business to

100  comdrive him from their domain. Raise your arm, the boughs shake, the chattering begins, and the sooner you decamp; the more you will shew your discretion.

Watch the ape or monkey with which you

105  come into closer contact; does he pick up a blade of grass, he will examine it with as much attention as if he were determining the value of a precious stone. Do you put food before him, he tucks it

110 into his mouth as fast as possible, and when his cheek pouches are so full that they cannot hold any more, he looks at you as if he seriously asked your approval of his laying up stores for the future. If he

115  destroy the most valuable piece of glass or china in your possession, he does not look as if he enjoyed the mischief, but either puts on an impudent air, as much as to say, “I don’t care,” or calmly tries to let

120  you know he thought it his duty to destroy your property. Savage, violent and noisy are they when irritated or disappointed, and long do they retain the recollection of an affront. I once annoyed

125 a monkey in the collection of the Jardin des Plantes, in Paris, by preventing him from purloining the food of one of his companions; in doing which I gave him a knock upon his paws. It was lucky that

130 strong wires were between us, or he would probably have hurt me severely in his rage.

The following edited passage is taken from The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland by Theophilus Cibber on the poetess, Ms. Manley, and her father Sir Roger Manley.

The celebrated authoress of the Atalantis, was born in Hampshire, in one of those islands which formerly belonged to France, of which her father Sir Roger

5 Manley was governor; who afterwards enjoyed the same post in other places in England. He was the second son of an ancient family; the better part of his estate was ruined in the civil war by his firm

10 adherence to Charles I. He had not the satisfaction of ever being taken notice of, nor was his loyalty acknowledged at the restoration. The governor was a brave gallant man, of great honour and

15 integrity.

He became a scholar in the midst of the camp, having left the university at the age of sixteen, to follow the fortunes of Charles I. His temper had too much of the

20 Stoic in it to attend much to the interest of his family. After a life spent in the civil and foreign wars, he began to love ease and retirement, devoting himself to his study, and the charge of his little post,

25 without following the court; his great virtue and modesty, debarring him from soliciting favours from such persons as were then at the helm of affairs, his deserts were buried, and forgotten. In this

30 solitude he wrote several tracts for his own amusement. One Dr. Midgley, an ingenious physician, related to the family by marriage, had the charge of looking over his papers. Amongst them he found

35 that manuscript, which he reserved to his proper use, and by his own pen, and the assistance of some others, continued the work till the eighth volume was finished, without having the honesty to

40 acknowledge the author of the first.

The governor likewise wrote the History of the Rebellion in England, Scotland and Ireland; wherein the most material passages, battles, sieges, policies, and

45 stratagems of war, are impartially related on both sides.

His daughter, our authoress, received an education suitable to her birth, and gave very early discoveries of a genius, not

50 only above her years, but much superior to what is usually to be found amongst her own sex. She had the misfortune to lose her mother, while she was yet an infant, a circumstance, which laid the

55 foundation of many calamities, which afterwards befell her.

The brother of Sir Roger Manley, who was of principles very opposite to his, joined with the Parliamentarian party; and

60 after Charles I had suffered, he engaged with great zeal in the cause of those who were for settling a new form of government, in which, however, they were disappointed by the address of

65 Cromwell. During these heats and divisions, Mr. Manley, who adhered to the most powerful party, was fortunate enough to amass an estate, and purchased a title; but these, upon the restoration,

70 reverted back to the former possessor; so that he was left with several small children unprovided for. The eldest of these orphans, Sir Roger Manley took under his protection, bestowed a very

75 liberal education on him, and endeavoured to inspire his mind with other principles, than those he had received from his father. This young gentleman had very promising parts, but

80 under the appearance of an open simplicity, he concealed the most treacherous hypocrisy. Sir Roger, who had a high opinion of his nephew’s honour, as well as of his great abilities,

85 on his death-bed bequeathed to him the care of our authoress, and her youngest sister.

This man had from nature a very happy address, formed to win much upon the

90 hearts of unexperienced girls; and his two cousins respected him greatly. He placed them at the house of an old, out-of- fashion aunt; she was full of the heroic stiffness of her own times, and would

95 read books of Chivalry, and Romances with her spectacles. This sort of conversation, much infected the mind of our poetess, and filled her imagination with lovers, heroes, and

100 princes; made her think herself in an enchanted region, and that all the men who approached her were knights errant. In a few years the old aunt died, and left the two young ladies without any control;

105 which as soon as their cousin Mr. Manley heard, he hasted into the country, to visit them; appeared in deep mourning, as he said for the death of his wife.

The following edited passage is taken from The Chemistry, Properties and Tests of Precious Stones by Jon Mastin on the specific gravity of stones.

The fixing of the specific gravity of a stone also determines its group position with regard to weight; its colour and other characteristics defining the actual

5 stone. This is a safe and very common method of proving a stone, since its specific gravity does not vary more than a point or so in different specimens of the same stone. There are several ways

10 of arriving at this, such as by weighing in balances in the usual manner, by displacement, and by immersion in liquids the specific gravity of which are known.

15 Cork is of less specific gravity than water, therefore it floats on the surface of that liquid, whereas iron, being heavier, sinks. So that by changing the liquid to one lighter than cork, the cork

20 will sink in it as does iron in water; in the second instance, if we change the liquid to one heavier than iron, the iron will float on it as does cork on water, and exactly as an ordinary flat-iron will

25 float on quicksilver, bobbing up and down like a cork in a tumbler of water. If, therefore, solutions of known but varying densities are compounded, it is possible to tell almost to exactitude the

30 specific gravity of any stone dropped into them, by the position they assume. Thus, if we take a solution of pure methylene iodide, which has a specific gravity of 3.2981, and into this drop a

35 few stones selected indiscriminately, the effect will be curious: first, some will sink plump to the bottom like lead; second, some will fall so far quickly, then remain for a considerable time

40 fairly stationary; third, some will sink very slowly; fourth, some will be partially immersed, that is, a portion of their substance being above the surface of the liquid and a portion covered by it;

45 fifth, some will float on the surface

without any apparent immersion. In the first case, the stones will be much heavier than 3.2981; in the second, the stones will be about 3.50; in the third

50 and fourth instances, the stones will be about the same specific gravity as the liquid, whilst in the fifth, they will be much lighter, and thus a rough but tolerably accurate isolation may be

55 made.

On certain stones being extracted and placed in other liquids of lighter or denser specific gravity, as the case may be, their proper classification may easily

60 be arrived at, and if the results are checked by actual weight, in a specific gravity balance, they will be found to be fairly accurate. The solution commonly used for the heaviest stones is a mixture

65 of nitrate of thallium and nitrate of silver. This double nitrate has a specific gravity of 4.7963, therefore such a stone as zircon, which is the heaviest known, will float in it. For use, the mixture

70 should be slightly warmed till it runs thin and clear; this is necessary, because at 60° (taking this as ordinary atmospheric temperature) it is a stiff mass. A lighter liquid is a mixture of

75 iodide of mercury in iodide of potassium, but this is such an extremely corrosive and dangerous mixture, that the more common solution is one in which methylene iodide is saturated

80  with a mixture of iodoform until it shows a specific gravity of 3.601; and by using the methylene iodide alone, in its pure state, it having a specific gravity of 3.2981, the stones to that weight can

85 be isolated, and by diluting this with benzole, its weight can be brought down to that of the benzole itself, as in the case of Sonstadt’s solution. This solution, in full standard strength, has a

90 specific gravity of 3.1789, but may be weakened by the addition of distilled water in varying proportions till the weight becomes almost that of water.

This is especially appreciated when it is

95 remembered that so far science has been unable (except in very rare instances of no importance) to manufacture any stone of the same colour as the genuine and at the same time of the same

100 specific gravity. Either the colour and characteristics suffer in obtaining the required weight or density, or if the colour and other properties of an artificial stone are made closely to

105 resemble the real, then the specific gravity is so greatly different, either more or less, as at once to stamp the jewel as false.

Measuring Specific Gravity

Source: Unknown