The whole court were astonished at Abner's sagacity, and his majesty,

too, had declared him to be a clever fellow; but all this did not

recompense him for the anguish he suffered, nor console him for the

loss of his dear ducats. While groaning and sighing, he took one coin

after another from his purse, and before parting with it weighed it on

the tip of his finger. Schnuri, the king's jester, asked him jeeringly

whether all his zecchini were tested on the stone by which the bit of

Prince Abdallah's dun horse was proved. "Your wisdom to-day has brought

you fame," said the jester; "but I would bet you another fifty ducats

that you wish you had kept silent. But what says the Prophet? 'A word

once spoken can not be overtaken by a wagon, though four fleet horses

were harnessed to it.' Neither will a greyhound overtake it, Mr. Abner,

even if it did not _limp_."

Not long after this (to Abner) painful event, he took another walk in

one of the green valleys between the foot-hills of the Atlas range of

mountains. And on this occasion, just as before, he was overtaken by a

company of armed men, the leader of whom called out:

"Hi! my good friend! have you not seen Goro, the emperor's black

body-guard, run by? He has run away, and must have taken this course

into the mountains."

"I can not inform you, General," answered Abner.

"Oh! Are you not that cunning Jew who had seen neither the dog nor the

horse? Don't stand on ceremony; the slave must have passed this way;

can you not scent him in the air? or can you not discover the print of

his flying feet in the long grass? Speak! the slave must have passed

here; he is unequalled in killing sparrows with a pea-shooter, and this

is his majesty's greatest diversion. Speak up! or I will put you in

chains!"

"I can not say I have seen what I have yet not seen."

"Jew, for the last time I ask, where is the slave? Think on the soles

of your feet; think on your zecchini!"

"Oh, woe is me! Well, if you will have it that I have seen the

sparrow-shooter, then run that way; if he is not there, then he is

somewhere else."

"You saw him, then?" roared the general.

"Well, yes, Mr. Officer, if you will have it so."

The soldiers hastened off in the direction he had indicated; while

Abner went home chuckling over his cunning. Before he was twenty-four

hours older, however, a company of the palace guards defiled his house

by entering it on the Sabbath, and dragged him into the presence of the

Emperor of Morocco.

"Dog of a Jew!" shouted the emperor. "You dare to send the imperial

servants, who were pursuing a fugitive, on a false scent into the

mountains, while the slave was fleeing towards the coast, and very

nearly escaped on a Spanish ship. Seize him, soldiers! A hundred on his

soles, and a hundred zecchini from his purse! The more his feet swell

under the lash, the more his purse will collapse."

You know, O Sire, that in the kingdom of Fez and Morocco the people

love swift justice; and so the poor Abner was whipped and taxed without

consulting his own inclinations beforehand. He cursed his fate, that

condemned his feet and his purse to suffer every time it pleased his

majesty to lose any thing. As he limped out of the room, bellowing and

groaning, amidst the laughter of the rough court people, Schnuri, the

jester, said to him: "You ought to be contented, Abner, ungrateful

Abner; is it not honor enough for you that every loss that our gracious

emperor--whom God preserve--suffers, likewise arouses in your bosom the

profoundest grief? But if you will promise me a good fee, I will come

to your shop in Jews Alley an hour before the Sovereign of the West is

to lose any thing, and say: 'Don't go out of your house, Abner; you

know why; shut yourself up in your bedroom under lock and key until

sunset.'"

This, O Sire, is the story of _Abner, the Jew, Who had seen Nothing_.

When the slave had finished, and every thing was quiet in the _salon_,

the young writer reminded the old man that the thread of their

discourse had been broken, and requested him to declare wherein lay the

captivating power of tales.

"I will reply to your question," returned the old man. "The human

spirit is lighter and more easily moved than water, although that is

tossed into all kinds of shapes, and by degrees, too, bores through the

thickest objects. It is light and free as the air, and, like that

element, the higher it is lifted from earth, the lighter and purer it

is. Therefore is there an inclination in humanity to lift itself above

the common events of life, in order to give itself the freer play

accorded in more lofty domains, even if it be only in dreams. You

yourself, my young friend, said to me: 'We lived in those stories, we

thought and felt with those beings,' and hence the charm they had for

you. While you listened to the stories of yonder slaves, that were only

fictions invented by another, did you also use your imagination? You

did not remain in spirit with the objects around you, nor were you

engrossed by your every-day thoughts: no, you experienced in your own

person all that was told; it was you yourself to whom this and that

adventure occurred, so strongly were you interested in the hero of the

tale. Thus your spirit raised itself, on the thread of such a story,

over and away from the present, which does not appear so fair or have

such charms for you. Thus this spirit moved about, free and unconfined

in a strange and higher atmosphere; fiction became reality to you--or,

if you prefer, reality became fiction--because your imagination and

being were absorbed into fiction."

"I do not quite comprehend you," returned the young merchant; "but you

are right in saying that we live in fiction, or fiction lives in us. I

remember clearly that beautiful time when we had nothing to do. Waking,

we dreamed; we pretended that we were wrecked on desert islands, and

took counsel with one another as to what we should do to prolong our

lives; and often we built ourselves huts in a willow copse, made scanty

meals of miserable fruits, although we could have procured the very

best at the house not a hundred paces distant; yes, there were even

times when we waited for the appearance of a kind fairy, or a wonderful

dwarf, who should step up to us and say: 'The earth is about to

open--will it please you to descend with me down to my palace of

rock-crystal, and take your choice of what my servants, the baboons,

can serve up?'"

The young men laughed, but confessed to their friend that he had spoken

truth. "To this day," continued another, "this enchantment creeps over

me now and then. I became, for instance, somewhat vexed at the stupid

fable with which my brother would come rushing up to the door: 'Have

you heard of the misfortune of our neighbor, the stout baker? He had

dealings with a magician, who, out of revenge, transformed him into a

bear, and now he lies within his chamber growling fearfully.' I would

get angry, and call him a liar. But what a different aspect the case

took on when I was told that the stout neighbor had made a journey into

a far-distant and unknown land, and there fell into the hands of a

magician who transformed him into a bear! I would after a while find

myself absorbed in the story; would take the trip with my stout

neighbor; experience wonderful adventures, and it would not have

astonished me very much if he had actually been stuck into a bear-skin

and forced to go on all fours."

"And yet," said the old man, "there is a very delightful form of

narrative, in which neither fairies nor magicians figure, no palace of

crystal and no genii who bring the most delicious food, no magic horse,

but a kind that differs materially from those usually designated as

tales."

"Another kind?" exclaimed the young men. "Please explain to us more

clearly what you mean."

"I am of the opinion that a certain distinction should be made between

fairy tales and narratives which are commonly called stories. When I

tell you that I will relate a fairy tale, you would at the outset count

upon its treating of events outside of the usual course of life and of

its being located in a kingdom entirely different from any thing on

earth. Or, to make my meaning plain, in a fairy tale you would look for

other people as well as mortals to appear; strange powers, such as

fairies and magicians, genii and ruling spirits, are concerned in the

fate of the person of whom the tale treats; the whole fabric of the

story takes on an extraordinary and wonderful shape, and has somewhat

the appearance of the texture of our carpets, or many pictures of our

best masters which the Franks call arabesques. It is forbidden the true

Mussulman to represent human beings, the creatures of Allah, in colors

and paintings, as a sin; therefore one sees in this texture wonderful

tortuous trees, and twigs with human heads; human beings drawn out into

a bush or fish; in short, forms that remind one of the life around him,

and are yet unlike that life. Do you follow me?"

"I believe I perceive your meaning," said the young writer; "but

continue."

"After this fashion then is a fairy tale; fabulous, unusual,

astonishing; and because it is untrue to the usual course of life, it

is often located in foreign lands or referred to a period long since

passed away. Every land, every tribe, has such tales; the Turks as well

as the Persians, the Chinese as well as the Mongolians; and even in the

country of the Franks there are many, at least so I was told by a

learned Giaour; still they are not as fine as ours, for instead of

beautiful fairies who live in splendid palaces, they have decrepit old

women, whom they name witches--an ugly, artful folk, who dwell in

miserable huts, and instead of riding in a shell wagon, drawn by

griffins, through the blue skies, they ride through the mist astride of

a broomstick. They also have gnomes and spirits of the earth, who are

small, undersized people, and cause all kinds of apparitions. Such are

the fairy tales; but of far different composition are the narratives

commonly called stories. These are located in an orderly way on the

earth, treat of the usual affairs of life, the wonderful part mostly

made up of the links of fate drawn about a human being, who is made

rich or poor, happy or unhappy, not by magic or the displeasure of

fairies, as in the tale, but by his own action, or by a singular

combination of circumstances."

"Most true!" responded one of the young men; "and such stories are also

to be found in the glorious tales of Scheherazade called 'The Thousand

and One Nights.' Most of the events that befel King Haroun-al-Raschid

and his vizier were of that nature. They go out disguised and see this

and that very singular incident, which is afterwards solved in a

natural manner."

"And yet you must admit," continued the old man "that those stories did

not constitute the least interesting part of 'The Thousand and One

Nights.' And still, how they differ in their motive, in their

development and in their whole nature from the tales of a Prince

Biribinker, or the three dervishes with one eye, or the fisher who drew

from the sea the chest fastened with the seal of Salomo! But after all

there is an original cause for the distinctive charms possessed by both

styles--namely, that we live to experience many things striking and

unusual. In the fairy tales, this element of the unusual is supplied by

the introduction of a fabulous magic into the ordinary life of mortals;

while in the stories something happens that, although in keeping with

the natural laws, is totally unexpected and out of the usual course of

events."

"Strange!" cried the writer, "strange, that this natural course of

events proves quite as attractive to us as the supernatural in the

tales. What is the explanation of that?"

"That lies in the delineation of the individual mortal,"

replied the old man. "In the tales, the miraculous forms the chief

feature, while the mortal is deprived of the power of shaping his

course; so that the individual figures and their character can only be

drawn hastily. It is otherwise with the simple narrative, where the

manner in which each one speaks and acts his character, in due

proportion, is the main point and the most attractive one."

"Really, you are right!" exclaimed the young merchant. "I never took

time to give the matter much thought. I looked at every thing, and then

let it pass by me. I was amused with one, found another wearisome,

without knowing exactly why; but you have given us the key that unlocks

the secret, a touch-stone with which we can make the test and decide

properly."

"Make a practice of doing that," answered the old man, "and your

enjoyment will constantly increase, as you learn to think over what you

have heard. But see, another slave has risen to tell his story."

THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN.

Sire, I am a German by birth, and have been in your country too short a

time to be able to entertain you with a Persian tale or an amusing

story of sultans and viziers. You must, therefore, permit me to tell

you a story of my native land. Sad to say, our stories are not always

as elevated as yours--that is, they do not deal with sultans or kings,

nor with viziers and pashas, that are called ministers of justice or

finance, privy-counsellors, and the like, but they treat very modestly

(soldiers sometimes excepted) of persons outside of official life.

In the southern part of Germany lies the town of Gruenwiesel, where I

was born and bred. It is a town identical with its neighbors; in its

centre a small marketplace with a town-pump, on one corner a small old

town-hall, while built around the square were the houses of the justice

of the peace and the well-to-do merchants, and, in a few narrow streets

that opened out of the square, lived the rest of the citizens.

Everybody knew everybody else; every one knew all that was going on;

and if the minister, or the mayor, or the doctor had an extra dish on

the table, the whole town would know of it before dinner was over. On

afternoons, the wives went out to coffee parties, as we call them,

where, over strong coffee and sweet cakes, they gossiped of the great

events of the day, coming to the conclusion that the minister must have

invested in a lottery ticket and won an unchristian amount of money,

that the mayor was open to a bribe, and that the apothecary paid the

doctor well to write costly prescriptions. You may therefore imagine,

Sire, how unpleasant it was for an orderly town like Gruenwiesel, when

a man came there of whom nothing was known--not even where he came

from, what he wanted there, or on what he lived. The mayor, to be sure,

had seen his passport, a paper that every one is compelled to have in

our country----

"Is it, then, so unsafe on the street," interrupted the sheik, "that

you must have a firman from your sultan in order lo protect yourselves

from robbers?"

No, Sire, (replied the slave); these passports do not protect us from

thieves, but are only a regulation by which the identity of the holder

is every-where established. Well, the mayor had investigated this

strange man's passport and at a gathering at the doctor's house had

said that it had been found all right from Berlin to Gruenwiesel, but

there must be some cheat in it, as the man was a suspicious-looking

character. The mayor's opinion being entitled to great weight in

Gruenwiesel, it is no wonder that from that time forth the stranger

was looked upon with suspicion. And his course of life was not adapted

to change this opinion of my countrymen. The stranger rented an entire

house that had formerly been unoccupied, had a whole wagon full of

singular furniture--such as stoves, ranges, frying-pans, and the

like--put in there, and lived there alone by himself. Yes, he even

cooked for himself; and not a single soul entered his house, with the

exception of an old man living in Gruenwiesel, who made purchases for

him of bread, meat, and vegetables. Still, even this old man was only

allowed to step inside the door, where he was always met by the

stranger, who relieved him of his bundles.

I was ten years of age when this man came to our town, and I can to-day

recall the uneasiness which his presence caused, as clearly as though

it had all happened yesterday. He did not come in the afternoon, like

the other men, to the bowling alley; nor did he visit the inn in the

evening, to discuss the news over a pipe of tobacco. It was in vain

that, one after another, the mayor, the 'squire, the doctor, and the

minister invited him to dinner or to lunch; he always excused himself.

Thus it was that some believed him crazy; others took him to be a Jew;

while a third party firmly insisted that he was a magician or sorcerer.

I grew to be eighteen, twenty years old, and still this man passed

under the name of "the strange gentleman." There came a day, however,

on which some fellows came to our town leading a number of strange

animals. They were a rough lot of vagrants, who had a camel that would

kneel, a bear that danced, some dogs and monkeys looking very comical

in clothes and playing all sorts of tricks. These vagrants generally go

through the town, stopping at all the cross streets and squares, making

a horrible tumult with a small drum and fife, compelling their animals

to dance and perform tricks, and then collect money in the houses. But

the band, which was now exhibiting in Gruenwiesel, was distinguished

above others of its class by the presence of a monster orang-outang,

nearly as large as a human being, which walked on two legs, and could

perform all manner of clever tricks. This dog-and-ape-troupe stopped

before the house of the strange gentleman. At the sound of the fife and

drum, the latter appeared at the dust-dimmed window, looking rather

displeased; but after a time his face lighted up, and, to everybody's

surprise, he opened the window, looked out, and laughed heartily at the

tricks of the orang-outang, and even gave such a large silver coin to

the show that the whole town spoke of it.

On the following day these vagrants left the place. The camel carried a

large number of baskets in which the dogs and monkies sat demurely,

while the men and the big ape walked behind the camel. They had hardly

been gone an hour, however, when the strange gentleman sent to the

post, and ordered, to the astonishment of the postmaster, a carriage

with post-horses, and shortly drove through the same gate, out on the

same road that had been taken by the band of men and monkeys. The whole

town was vexed because it could not be learned where he was bound.

Night had set in before the strange gentleman returned to the gate. But

another person sat in the wagon with him, who pressed his hat down over

his face, and had bound up his mouth and ears in a silk handkerchief.

The gate-keeper held it to be his duty to question the other stranger,

and to ask him for his passport; he answered, however, very roughly,

muttering away in a quite unintelligible language.

"It is my nephew," said the strange gentleman, pleasantly, to the

gate-keeper, as he pressed some silver coin into his hand; "it is my

nephew, who does not at present understand very much German. He was

just now cursing in his own dialect at our being stopped here."

"Well, if he is your nephew," replied the gate-keeper, "of course a

pass is not necessary. He will probably lodge with you?"

"Certainly," said the strange gentleman, "and will most likely remain

here some time."

The gate-keeper had no further objections to make, so the strange

gentleman and his nephew drove into the town. The mayor and citizens,

however, were not very well pleased with the action of the gate-keeper.

He might at least have taken notice of a few words of the nephew's

dialect, so that thereby it might have been easily ascertained from

what country he and his uncle originally came. On this the gate-keeper

asserted that his dialect was neither French nor Italian, but it

sounded broad enough to be English.

Thus did the gate-keeper help himself out of disgrace, and at the same

time supply the young man with a name. For every body now was talking

about the young Englishman.

But, like his uncle, the young Englishman did not show himself either

at the bowling alley or the beer table; but yet he gave the people much

to busy themselves about in another way. For instance, it often

happened that, in the formerly quiet house of the strange gentleman,

such fearful cries and noises were heard, that the people would crowd

together before the house and look up at the windows. They would then

see the young Englishman, clad in a red coat and green knee-breeches,

with bristly hair, and a frightened expression, run by the windows, and

through all the rooms, with inconceivable rapidity, chased by his

uncle, wearing a red dressing-gown, with a hunting whip in his hand; he

often missed hitting him, but after a time the crowd felt sure that the

young man had been caught, as the most pitiable cries and whip-lashings

were heard. The ladies of the town now felt such a lively sympathy for

the young man who was treated so cruelly that they finally prevailed on

the mayor to take some steps in the matter. He wrote the strange

gentleman a note, in which he expressed his opinion very emphatically

about the way the young Englishman had been treated, and threatened

that if any more such scenes occurred he would take the young man under

his own protection.

But who could have been more astonished than was the mayor, when, for

the first time in ten years, he saw the strange gentleman enter his

house! The old gentleman excused his conduct, on the ground that it was

in accordance with the expressed charge of the young man's parents, who

had sent their son to him to be educated. This youth was in other

respects wise and forward for his years, but he did not learn languages

easily; and he was very anxious to teach his nephew to speak German

fluently, that he might take the liberty of introducing him to the

society of Gruenwiesel. And yet this language seemed so hard for him to

acquire, that often there was nothing left to do but to whip it into

him. The mayor expressed himself well satisfied with these

explanations, only advising moderation on the old man's part; and he

said that evening, over his beer, that he had seldom seen so

intelligent and clever a man as the strange gentleman. "It is a pity,"

added he, in conclusion, "that he comes so little into society; still,

I think that when the nephew is a little further advanced in German, he

will visit my circle oftener."

[Illustration]

Through this single circumstance, the public opinion of the town was

completely changed. The stranger was looked upon as a clever man,

wishes for his better acquaintance were freely expressed, and when, now

and then, a terrible shriek was heard to come from the house, the

Gruenwiesel people simply said: "He is giving his nephew lessons in the

German language," and ceased to block up the street before his house,

as they had been wont to do on hearing those cries. In the course of

three months the German exercises seemed to be finished, as the old

gentleman took another step in the education of his nephew. There lived

a feeble old Frenchman in the town, who gave the young people lessons

in dancing. The old gentleman sent for him one day, and told him that

he wished his nephew to be instructed in dancing. He gave him to

understand that while the young man was quite docile, yet where dancing

was concerned he was rather peculiar; he had, for instance, once

learned how to dance from another master, but so singular were the

figures taught him, that he could not be taken out into society. But

then his nephew believed himself to be a great dancer, notwithstanding

the fact that his dancing did not bear the slightest resemblance to a

waltz or a gallopade. As for the rest, he promised the dancing-master a

thaler a lesson; and the Frenchman announced himself as ready to begin

the instruction of this peculiar pupil. Never in the world, as the

Frenchman privately asserted, was there anything so extraordinary as

these dancing-lessons. The nephew, quite a tall, slim young man, whose

legs were still much too short, would make his appearance, finely

dressed in a red coat, loose green trousers, and kid gloves. He spoke

but little, and with a foreign accent, was at the beginning fairly

clever and well-behaved, but would suddenly break into the wildest

leaps, danced the boldest figures that took away the master's sight and

speech; and if he attempted to set him right again, the young man would

draw off his dancing-shoes, and throw them at the master's head, and

then get down on the floor and run about on all fours. Summoned by the

noise, the old gentleman would then rush out of his room, attired in a

loose red dressing-gown, with a gold-paper capon his head, and lay the

hunting whip on the back of the young man without mercy. The nephew

would thereupon scream frightfully, spring upon tables and bureaus, and

cry out in an odd foreign tongue. The old man in the red dressing-gown

would at length catch him by the leg, drag him down from a table, beat

him black and blue, and choked him by twisting his cravat, whereupon he

would become clever and decent again, and the dancing-exercise would

continue without further interruption.

But when the Frenchman had advanced his pupil so far that music could

be used during the lesson, there was a magical change in the nephew's

behavior. A town musician was called in, and given a seat on the table

in the _salon_ of the desolate house. The dancing-master would then

represent a lady, the old gentleman furnishing him with a silk dress

and an Indian shawl; and the nephew would request the lady to dance

with him. The young Englishman was a tireless dancer, and would not let

the Frenchman escape out of his long arms, but forced him to dance, in

spite of his groans and cries, till he fell down from fatigue, or until

the fiddler's arm became too lame to keep up the music.

The dancing-master was nearly brought to his grave by these lessons,

but the thaler that he received regularly every day, and the good wine

that the old man set out for him, caused him to keep on, even though he

firmly resolved each day not to enter the desolate house again.

But the inhabitants of Gruenwiesel took an altogether different view of

the matter. They found that the young man must have sociable qualities;

while the young ladies rejoiced that, in the great scarcity of young

men, they should have so nimble a dancer for the forthcoming winter.

One morning the maids, on returning from market, reported to their

mistresses a wonderful occurrence. Before the desolate house, a

splendid coach, with beautiful horses, was drawn up, with a footman in

rich livery holding open the door. Thereupon the door of the desolate

house was opened, and two richly dressed gentlemen stepped out, one of

whom was the old gentleman and the other probably the young Englishman,

who had had such a hard time in learning German, and who danced so

actively. Both men took seats in the coach, the footman sprang up on

the rack at the back, and the coach--just think of it!--had been driven

up to the mayor's door.

As soon as the ladies had heard these stories from their servants, they

tore off their kitchen aprons and caps, and dressed themselves in

state. "Nothing is more certain," they exclaimed to their families,

while all were running about to set the parlor in order, "nothing is

more certain than that the stranger is about to bring his nephew out.

The old fool has not had the decency to set his foot in our house for

ten years; but we will pardon him on account of the nephew, who must be

a charming fellow." Thus said the ladies, and admonished their sons and

daughters to appear polite if the strangers came--to stand up straight,

and also to take more pains than usual in their speech. And the wise

women of the town were not wrong in their calculations, as the old

gentleman went the rounds with his nephew, to recommend himself and the

young Englishman to the favor of the Gruenwiesel families.

Every-where the people were quite charmed with the appearance of the

two strangers, and felt sorry that they had not made the acquaintance

of these agreeable gentlemen earlier. The old gentleman showed himself

to be a worthy, sensible man, who, to be sure, smiled a little over all

he said, so that one was not quite sure whether he was in earnest or

not; but he spoke of the weather, of the suburbs, and of the Summer

pleasures in the cave on the mountain side, so wisely and elaborately

that every one was charmed with him. But the nephew! He bewitched

everybody; he took all hearts by storm. Certainly, so far as his

exterior was concerned, his face could not be called handsome; the

under part, the chin especially, protruded too far, and his complexion

was exceedingly dark; then, too, he frequently made all sorts of

singular grimaces, closing his eyes and gnashing his teeth; but in

spite of all this, the contour of his face was found to be unusually

interesting. Nothing could be more athletic than his figure. His

clothes, it is true, hung somewhat loosely and unevenly on his body;

but he was pleased with every thing; he flew about the room with

uncommon activity, threw himself here on a sofa and then in an

arm-chair, and stretched out his legs before him. But what in another

young man would have been considered vulgar and unseemly, passed in the

case of the nephew for agreeableness. "He is an Englishman," they would

say, "they are all like that; an Englishman can lie down on a sofa and

go to sleep while ten ladies stand up for lack of a seat; we shouldn't

take it amiss in an Englishman." He was very watchful, however, of the

old gentleman, his uncle; and when he began to spring about the room,

or, as he seemed constantly inclined to do, put his feet up in a chair,

a serious look served to make him behave himself a little better. And

then, how could any one take any thing amiss, when the uncle on

entering would say to the lady of the house: "My nephew is still

somewhat coarse and uncultured, but I am sanguine that a little society

will do much to polish his manners, and I therefore recommend him to

you with my whole heart."

[Illustration]

Thus was the nephew brought into society, and all Gruenwiesel spoke of

nothing else for two whole days. The old gentleman did not stop with

this, however, but set about changing his entire course of life. In the

afternoon, in company with his nephew, he would go out to the cave on

the mountain, where the most respectable gentlemen of Gruenwiesel drank

beer and played at bowls. The nephew there showed himself to be an

accomplished master of the sport, as he never bowled down less than

five or six pins. Now and then, it is true, a singular spirit seemed to

control him. He would, for instance, often chase a ball with the speed

of an arrow, right down among the pins, and there set up all kinds of

strange noises; or when he had knocked down the king, or made a strike,

he would stand on his beautifully curled head, and throw his feet into

the air; or when a wagon rattled by, he would be found, before he was

fairly missed from the room, on the driver's seat, would ride a short

distance, and then come back.

On these occasions, the old gentleman was accustomed to beg pardon of

the mayor and the other gentlemen, for the antics of his nephew; but

they laughed, charged it all to the account of his youth, asserted that

at his age they were also as nimble, and loved the harum-scarum chap,

as they called him, uncommonly well.

But there were also times when they were not a little vexed with him,

and yet they did not venture to make any complaints, because the young

Englishman passed every-where as a model of culture and intelligence.

The old gentleman was accustomed to take his nephew with him every

evening to the "Golden Hirsch," an inn of the town. Although the nephew

was quite a young man, he did all that his elders did, placed his glass

before him, put on an enormous pair of spectacles, produced a mighty

pipe, lighted it, and blew his smoke among them mischievously. If the

papers, or war, or peace, were spoken of, and the doctor and the mayor

fell into a discussion on these subjects, surprising all the other

gentlemen by their deep political knowledge, the nephew was quite

liable to interpose very forcible objections; he would strike the table

with his hand, from which he never drew the glove, and gave the doctor

and the mayor very plainly to understand that they had not any correct

information on these subjects; that he had heard all about them

himself, and possessed a deeper insight into them. He then gave

expression to his own views, in singular broken German, which received,

much to the disgust of the mayor, the approval of all the other

gentlemen; for he must, naturally, as an Englishman, understand all

this much better than they.

Then, when the mayor and doctor, to conceal the anger they did not dare

express, sat down to a game of chess, the nephew would come up, look

over the mayor's shoulders with his great goggles, and find fault with

this and that move, and tell the doctor he must move thus and so, until

both men were secretly burning with anger. If then the mayor challenged

him to play a game, with the design of mating him speedily--as he held

himself to be a second Philidor--the old gentleman would grasp his

nephew by the cravat, whereupon the young man at once became quiet and

polite, and gave mate to the mayor.

They had been accustomed to play cards of an evening at Gruenwiesel, at

half a kreuzer a game for each player; this the nephew thought was a

miserable stake, and laid down crown-thalers and ducats himself,

asserting that not one of them could play as well as he, but generally

consoled the insulted gentlemen by losing large sums of money to them.

They suffered no twinges of conscience in this taking of his money. "He

is an Englishman, and inherits his wealth," said they, as they shoved

the ducats into their pockets.

Thus did the nephew of the strange gentleman establish his

respectability in the town in a very short time. The oldest inhabitants

could not remember having ever seen a young man of this style in

Gruenwiesel, and he created the greatest sensation that had ever been

known there. It could not be said that the nephew had learned any thing

more than the art of dancing; Latin and Greek were to him, as we were

wont to express it, "Bohemian villages." In a game at the mayor's house

he was called upon to write something, and it was discovered that he

could not even write his own name. In geography, he made the most

egregious blunders--as he would place a German city in France, or a

Danish town in Poland; he had not read any thing, had not studied any

thing, and the minister often shook his head seriously over the utter

ignorance of the young man. Yet, in spite of all these defects, every

thing he said or did was considered excellent; for he was so impudent

as to claim that he was always right, and the close of every one of his

speeches was, "I know better than you!"

Winter came, and now the young Englishman appeared in still greater

glory. Every party was voted wearisome where he was not a guest. People

yawned when a wise man began to speak; but when the young Englishman

uttered the veriest nonsense in broken German, all was attention. It

was now discovered that the young man was also a poet, for rarely did

an evening go by that he did not pull out a piece of paper from his

pocket and read some sonnets to the company. There were, to be sure,

some people who maintained that some of these poems were poor and

without sense, and that others they had read somewhere in print; but

the nephew did not permit himself to be put down in any such manner. He

read, and read, directed the attention of his hearers to the beauties

of his verses, and was applauded to the echo.

His great triumph, however, was at the Gruenwiesel ball. No one could

dance more gracefully and rapidly than he. None could execute such

uncommonly difficult steps. His uncle dressed him in the greatest

splendor, after the latest fashion; and although the clothes did not

fit his body very well, yet every one thought him charmingly dressed.

The men, to be sure, thought themselves somewhat insulted by the new

fashion which he introduced. The mayor had always been accustomed to

open the ball in his own person, while the leading young people had the

right to arrange the other dances; but since the appearance of the

young Englishman, all this was changed. Without much ceremony, he took

the next best lady by the hand and led her out on the floor, arranged

every thing to suit himself, and was lord and master and king of the

ball. But because these innovations were acceptable to the ladies, the

men did not venture to make any objections, and the nephew held firmly

to his self-appointed office.

This ball seemed to furnish great entertainment for the old gentleman;

he never once took his eyes off his nephew, wore a smiling face, and

when all the world of Gruenwiesel moved up to him to sound the praises

of the noble well-bred youth, he could no longer contain himself from

very joy, but broke out into a hearty laugh, and conducted himself

almost foolishly. The Gruenwiesel people attributed these singular

manifestations of pleasure to his great love for his nephew, and did

not think them unnatural. Still, every now and then he had to turn his

fatherly attention to his nephew, for, in the middle of an elegant

dance, the young man would leap up to the platform where the town

musicians sat, take away the bass-viol from its owner, and scrape out a

horrible medley; or for a change he would throw his heels up into the

air and dance about on his hands. At such times, the old gentleman

would take him aside, would talk to him very seriously, and tighten his

neck-tie, until he once more was tractable.

Thus did the nephew conduct himself in society. It is usually the case

with social customs, that the objectionable ones spread much more

rapidly than the good ones; and a new and striking fashion, even though

ludicrous in itself, may have something attractive in it for young

people who have not thought very deeply about themselves and the world.

Thus it was in Gruenwiesel, over the young Englishman and his singular

manners. When the young people saw how he, with his perverse

disposition, with his coarse laughs and jests, with his rude answers to

elderly people, was more praised than blamed, that all this was

considered spirited, they said to themselves, "It would be very easy

for me to become such a spirited fellow." They had formerly been

industrious and clever young people; now they thought, "Of what use is

study, when ignorance is more highly rewarded?" They let books alone,

and spent their time on the square and in the streets. Formerly they

were well-behaved and polite towards every one--had waited until they

were spoken to, and then replied modestly; but now they placed

themselves in the company of their elders, gossiped with them, gave

expression to their opinions, and even laughed in the mayor's face when

he spoke, and affirmed that they knew better than he. Formerly the

young men of Gruenwiesel had had a horror of a coarse and vulgar life;

but now they sang all kinds of low songs, smoked tobacco in enormous

pipes, and frequented the worst saloons. They also bought large

goggles, although their sight was not impaired, set them on their nose,

and thought that they were now made, as they looked just like the

celebrated young Englishman. At home, or when they were visiting, they

would lie down on the lounge with their boots and spurs on; they tilted

back their chairs in company, or put their elbows on the table and

rested their cheeks on their fists--a posture that was in the highest

degree charming to look at. All in vain did their mothers and friends

tell them how foolish and disgraceful these actions were; they quoted

the shining example of the nephew in defence of their behavior. All in

vain was it represented to them that one should overlook in the nephew,

as a young Englishman, a certain national rudeness;--the young men of

Gruenwiesel would assert that they had just as good a right as the best

Englishman living, to be rude in a spirited way; in short, it was a

pity to see how the evil example of the nephew had completely destroyed

the customs and good manners of Gruenwiesel.

But the joy of the young men, in their rude unrestrained life did not

last long, as the following event wrought a complete change in the

scene. The Winter amusements were to close with a concert, that was to

be given, partly by the town musicians, and partly by the lovers of

music in Gruenwiesel. The mayor played the violoncello, the doctor the

bassoon, extremely well; the apothecary, although he had a very poor

talent for it, blew the flute; the young ladies of Gruenwiesel had

learned some songs, and every thing was all nicely arranged. But the

strange gentleman gave out that while the concert would undoubtedly be

a success, yet it was a mistake not to introduce a duet, as a duet was

a recognized feature of every concert. The old gentleman's declaration

proved quite an embarrassment to the managers. It was true that the

mayor's daughter sang like a nightingale; but where should they find a

gentleman who could sing a duet with her? In their perplexity, they at

last hit upon the old organist who had once possessed an excellent bass

voice; but the strange gentleman asserted that they need have no

uneasiness on that score, as his nephew was an exceptionally fine

singer. They were not a little surprised over this new accomplishment

of the young man, and requested him to sing something, that they might

judge of his acquirements. He sang for them, and, barring a few

outlandish affectations which were supposed to be the English style, he

sang like an angel. The duet was therefore decided on and hurriedly

practiced, and the evening finally came on which the ears of the

Gruenwiesel people were to be refreshed with a concert.

The old gentleman, sad to say, was sick and could not attend the

concert; but he gave the mayor, who called on him just before the hour

of opening the concert, some directions regarding his nephew. "He is a

good soul, my nephew," said he, "but now and then he is overtaken by

all sorts of singular fancies, and does many stupid things; it is,

therefore, a great misfortune that I can not be present at your

concert, as in my presence he always behaves himself--he well knows

why! I must say, in his favor, that he does not commit these actions in

a spirit of wantonness, but they are a fault of his constitution,

deeply implanted in his nature. If then, Mr. Mayor, he should sit down

on the music-desk, or attempt to play the bass-viol, just loosen his

neck-tie a little; or, if that does not help matters, pull it off

entirely, and you will see how quiet and well-behaved he will become."

The mayor thanked the sick man for his confidence, and promised that if

it should be necessary he would carry out his instructions.

The concert-hall was crowded; all Gruenwiesel and the surrounding

country were there. All the royal gamekeepers, the ministers,

officials, landlords, and others, within a circumference of ten miles,

came with their numerous families to share the rare enjoyment of the

concert with the Gruenwiesel people. The town musicians did themselves

honor. After them, the mayor appeared with his violoncello, accompanied

by the apothecary with his flute; after these, the organist sang, amid

universal applause; and the doctor, too, was cheered not a little when

he appeared with his bassoon.

The first part of the concert was over, and every one was impatiently

awaiting the second part, in which the young stranger was to sing a

duet with the mayor's daughter. The nephew was present, in a brilliant

costume, and had already attracted the attention of all present. He

had, with the greatest composure, laid himself back in an easy chair,

which had been reserved for a countess of the neighborhood, stretched

his legs out before him, and stared at everybody through a large

spyglass, stopping occasionally to play with a large mastiff which he,

in spite of the rule excluding dogs, had brought with him into this

goodly company. The countess for whom the chair had been reserved, put

in an appearance; but he showed no disposition to vacate the seat,--on

the contrary, he settled himself down in it more comfortably, and as no

one dared say any thing to the young man about it, the noble lady was

forced to take a common straw-bottomed chair in the midst of the other

ladies; a proceeding that vexed her not a little.

During the excellent playing of the mayor, during the fine singing of

the organist, yes, even while the doctor was performing some fantasias

on the bassoon, and all were breathlessly listening, the young

Englishman amused himself by having the dog fetch his handkerchief, or

chatted aloud with his neighbors, so that every one who was not

acquainted with him wondered at the extraordinary conduct of the young

man.

It was no wonder, therefore, that there was great curiosity to hear him

in the duet. The second part began; the town musicians had opened with

a short piece of music, and now the mayor, with his daughter, stepped

up to the young man, handed him a sheet of music, and said: "Mosjoh!

Will it please you to sing the duet now?" The young man laughed,

gnashed his teeth, sprang up, and the others followed him to the

music-stand, while the entire company were in full expectation. The

organist began the accompaniment and beckoned the nephew to begin. The

young Englishman looked through his goggles at the music, and broke out

into the most discordant tones. The organist called out to him, "Two

tones deeper, your honor! You must sing in C, C!"

Instead of singing in C, however, the nephew took off his shoe, and

struck the organist such a blow on the head that the powder flew in all

directions. As the mayor saw this, he thought: "Ha! he has another

attack!" and sprang forward, seized him by the throat, and loosened his

neck-tie; but this only increased the young man's violence; he no

longer spoke German, but a strange language instead, that no one

understood, and began to leap about in an extraordinary manner. The

mayor was very much annoyed by this unpleasant disturbance; he

therefore resolved, inasmuch as the young man must have been attacked

by some very unusual symptoms, to remove the cravat entirely. But he

had no sooner done this, than he stood motionless with horror, for

instead of a human skin and complexion, the neck of the young man was

covered with a dark-brown fur. The young man took some higher leaps,

grasped his hair with his gloved hands, pulled it, and, oh, wonder!

this beautiful hair was simply a wig, which he flung into the mayor's

face; and his head now appeared, covered with the same brown fur.

He jumped over tables and benches, threw down the music-stands, stamped

on the fiddles and clarionet, and appeared to have gone mad. "Catch

him! catch him!" shouted the mayor, quite beside himself. "He is out of

his senses, catch him!" That was, however, a difficult thing to do, as

the Englishman had pulled off his gloves, disclosing nails on his

fingers, with which he scratched the faces of those who attempted to

hold him. Finally an experienced hunter succeeded in holding him. He

bound his long arms down by his side so that he could only move his

feet. The people gathered round and stared at the singular young

gentleman, who no longer resembled a human being.

Just then a scientific gentleman of the neighborhood who had a large

cabinet full of specimens of natural history, and possessed all kinds

of stuffed animals, approached nearer, examined him closely, and then

exclaimed, in tones of surprise: "Good gracious! ladies and gentlemen,

how is it you bring this animal into genteel company? That is an ape,

of the _Homo Troglodytes_ species. I will give six thalers for him on

the spot, if you will let me have him, for my cabinet."

Who could describe the astonishment of the Gruenwiesel people as they

heard this! "What! an ape, an orang-outang in our society? The young

stranger a common ape?" cried they, and looked at one another in a

stupefied way. They could not believe it; they could not trust their

ears. The men examined the animal more closely, but it was beyond all

doubt a quite natural ape.

"But how is this possible," cried the mayor's wife. "Has he not often

read his poems to me? Has he not eaten at my table, just like any other

man?"

"What?" exclaimed the doctor's wife. "Has he not often drank coffee

with me, and a great deal of it? And has he not talked learnedly with

my husband, and smoked with him?"

"What! is it possible!" cried the men; "has he not bowled nine-pins

with us at the cave? and discussed politics like one of us?"

"And how can it be?" lamented they all; "has he not danced at our

balls? An ape! an ape? It is a miracle! It is witchcraft!"

"Yes, it is witchcraft, and a satanic spook!" echoed the mayor,

exhibiting the cravat of the nephew, or ape. "See, this cloth contains

the magic that made him so acceptable to our eyes. There is a broad

strip of elastic parchment covered with all manner of singular

characters. I think it must be Latin. Can any one read it?"

The minister, a scholarly gentleman who had lost many a game of chess

to the young Englishman, walked up, examined the parchment, and said:

"By no means! They are only Latin letters," and read:

"THE APE CAN DO MOST COMIC FEATS,

WHEN OF THE APPLE FRUIT HE EATS."

"Yes, it is a wicked fraud, a kind of sorcery; and the perpetrator of

it should be made an example of."

The mayor was of the same opinion, and started to go to the house of

the stranger, who must be a sorcerer; while six militia-men took the

ape along, as the stranger would be immediately put on trial.

They arrived at the desolate house, accompanied by a large crowd of

people, as every one was anxious to see the outcome of the affair. They

knocked on the door and pulled the bell, but no one responded. The

mayor, in his wrath, had the door beaten in, and went up to the room of

the stranger. But nothing was to be seen there save various kinds of

old furniture. The strange gentleman was not to be found; but on his

work-table lay a large sealed letter, directed to the mayor, who

immediately opened it. He read:

"MY DEAR GRUENWIESEL FRIENDS:--When you read this I shall be far away

from your town, and you will have discovered of what rank and country

my dear nephew is. Take this joke, which I have allowed myself to

indulge in at your expense, as a lesson not to seek the society of a

stranger who prefers to live quietly by himself. I felt above sharing

in your eternal clack, in your miserable customs, and your ridiculous

manners. Therefore, I educated a young orang-outang, which, as my

deputy, won such a warm place in your affections. Farewell; make the

best use of this lesson."

The people of Gruenwiesel were not a little ashamed at the position

they were in before the whole country. They had hoped that all this

could be shown to have some connection with supernatural things. But

the young people experienced the deepest sense of shame, because they

had copied the bad customs and manners of an ape. They ceased to prop

their elbows on the table; they no longer tilted back their chairs;

they were silent until spoken to; they laid aside their spectacles, and

were good and obedient; and if any one of them chanced to slip back

into the old ways, the Gruenwiesel people would say, "It is an ape!"

But the ape, that had so long played the _role_ of a young gentleman,

was surrendered to the learned man who possessed a cabinet of natural

curiosities. He allowed the ape to have the run of his yard, fed it

well, and showed it as a curiosity to strangers, where it can be seen

to this day.

There was loud laughter in the _salon_, when the slave had concluded,

in which the young men joined. "There must be singular people among

these Franks; and, of a truth, I would rather be here with the sheik

and mufti in Alessandria, than in the company of the minister, the

mayor, and their silly wives in Gruenwiesel!"

"You speak the truth there," replied the young merchant, "I should not

care to die in the Frank's country. They are a coarse, wild, barbaric

people, and it must be terrible for a cultivated Turk or Persian to

live there."

"You will hear all about that presently," promised the old man. "From

what the steward told me, the fine-looking young man yonder will have

something to say about the Franks, as he was among them for a long

time, and is by birth a Mussulman."

"What, the last one in the row? Really, it is a sin for the sheik to

free him! He is the handsomest slave in the whole country. Only look at

his courageous face, his sharp eye, his noble form! He might give him

some light duties, such as fan or pipe-bearing. It would be an easy

matter to provide such an office for him, and truly such a slave as he

would be an ornament to the palace. And the sheik has only had him

three days, and now gives him away? It is folly! It is a sin!"

"Do not blame him--he, who is wiser than all Egypt;" said the old man,

impressively. "I have already told you that he gives this slave his

freedom, believing that he will thereby deserve the blessing of Allah.

You say the slave is handsome and well-formed; and you say the truth.

But the son of the sheik--whom may the Prophet restore to his father's

house--was also a beautiful boy, and must be now tall and well-formed.

Shall the sheik then save his money, and set a less expensive slave

free, in the hope to receive his son therefor? He who wishes to do

anything in the world had far better not do it at all, than not do it

well."

"And see how the sheik's eyes are fastened on this slave! I have

noticed it the whole evening. During the recital of the stories, his

look was fixed on the young slave's face. It evidently pains him to

part with him."

"Do not think that of the sheik. Do you think the loss of a thousand

tomans would pain him who every day receives three times that sum?"

asked the old man. "But when his glance falls sorrowfully on the young

slave, he is doubtless thinking of his son, who languishes in a strange

land, and whether a merciful man lives there who will buy his freedom

and send him back to his father."

"You may be right," responded the young merchant, "and I am ashamed

that I have been looking at only the darker and ignobler traits of

people, while you prefer to see a nobler meaning underlying their

actions. And yet, taken as a whole, mankind are bad; have you not found

it so, old man?"

"It is precisely because I have not found it so, that I love to think

well of people. I used to feel as you do. I lived so thoughtlessly,

heard much that was bad about people, experienced much that was wicked

in myself, and so readily began to look upon humanity as made up of a

poor lot of creatures. Still, I chanced to think that Allah, who is as

just as wise, would not suffer so abandoned a race to people this fair

earth. I thought over again what I had seen and what I had experienced

in my own person, and behold! I had taken account only of the evil and

had forgotten the good. I had paid no attention when one had performed

a deed of charity; it seemed quite natural when whole families lived

virtuous and orderly lives; but whenever I heard of something wicked or

criminal, I stored it away in my memory. Thus did I begin to look about

me with clearer eyes. I rejoiced when I found that the good was not so

rare a quality as I had at first thought it. I noticed the evil less,

or it made less impression on my mind; and so I learned to love

humanity, learned to think well of people. And in my long life, I have

made fewer mistakes in speaking and thinking well of people, than I

should have made if I had looked upon them as avaricious or ignoble or

ungodly."

The old man was interrupted here by the steward, who said: "Sir, the

Sheik of Alessandria, Ali Banu, has remarked your presence here with

pleasure, and invites you to step forward and take a seat near him."

The young men were not a little astonished at the honor shown the old

man whom they had taken for a beggar; and when he had left them to sit

with the sheik, they held the steward back and the young writer asked

him: "By the beard of the Prophet! I implore you to tell us who this

old man is with whom we have been conversing, and whom the sheik so

honors?"

"What!" cried the steward clasping his hands in surprise, "do you not

know this man?"

"No."

"But I have seen you speaking with him several times on the street, and

my master has also noticed this and only recently said, 'They must be

valiant young people with whom this man grants a conversation.'"

"But tell us who he is!" cried the young merchant impatiently.

"Go away; you are trying to make a fool of me," answered the steward.

"No one enters this _salon_ without special permission, and to-day the

old gentleman sent word to the sheik that he would bring some young men

with him into the _salon_, if it were not disagreeable to the sheik,

and the sheik sent back the reply that his house was at his service."

"Do not leave us longer in ignorance. As true as I live, I do not know

who the man is. We got acquainted with him by chance, and fell to

talking with him."

"Well, you may consider yourselves fortunate, for you have conversed

with a famous and learned man, and all present honor you and wonder at

you accordingly. He is none other than Mustapha, the learned dervish."

"Mustapha! the wise Mustapha, who educated the sheik's son, who has

written many learned books, and travelled to all parts of the world?

Have we spoken with Mustapha? And spoken, too, as though he were one of

us, without the least respect!"

While the young men were talking about the dervish, Mustapha, and the

honor they felt had been done them by his condescension, the steward

came to them again, and invited them to follow him, as the sheik wished

to speak with them. The hearts of the young men beat excitedly. Never

yet had they spoken with a man of such high rank. But they collected

their wits, so as not to appear like fools, and followed the steward to

the sheik. Ali Banu sat upon a rich cushion, and refreshed himself with

sherbet. At his right sat the old man, his shabby clothes resting on

splendid cushions, while his well-worn sandals were placed on a rich

rug; but his well-shaped head, and his eye, expressive of dignity and

wisdom, indicated that he was a man worthy to be seated near the sheik.

The sheik was very grave, and the old man appeared to be speaking words

of consolation and of hope to him. The young men also feared that their

summons to the sheik had been caused by a stratagem on the part of the

old man, who very likely would now ruin them by a word to the sorrowing

father.

"Welcome, young men," said the sheik. "Welcome to the house of Ali

Banu! My old friend here deserves my thanks for bringing you with him;

still I am a little inclined to quarrel with him that he did not make

me acquainted with you before this. Which of you is the young writer?"

"I, O Sire! and at your service!" replied the writer, crossing his arms

on his breast and making a low obeisance.

"You are pleased with stories, and also love to read books with

beautiful verses and wise sayings?"

The young man blushed, and answered: "O Sire! for my part, I know of no

pleasanter way of passing the day. It cultivates the mind and whiles

away the time. But every one to his taste; I do not quarrel with any

one who does not----"

"Very well, very well," interrupted the sheik, with a laugh, as he

beckoned the second young man forward. "And now who may you be?"

"Sire, my duties are those of an assistant to a physician, and I have

cured some patients myself."

"Just so," replied the sheik. "And you are one who loves high-living.

You would like to sit down to a good table with your friends. Isn't

that so? Have I not guessed right?"

The young man was much abashed; he felt that the old man had betrayed

him also; but he plucked up courage to say: "Oh yes, Sire, I reckon it

as one of the great enjoyments of life to be able to make merry now and

then with one's friends. My purse does not permit me to entertain my

friends with much besides watermelons, and other cheap things; but

still we contrive to be merry even with these--so that it stands to

reason that if my purse was longer our enjoyment would be

proportionately increased."

This spirited answer pleased the sheik so well that he could not

refrain from laughing. "Which of you is the young merchant?" was his

next inquiry.

The young merchant made his obeisance to the sheik with an easy grace,

for he was a man of good breeding; and the sheik said to him:

"And you? Do you not take pleasure in music and dancing? Are you not

charmed to hear good artists sing and play, and to see dancers perform

ingenious dances?"

The young merchant replied: "I see clearly, O Sire, that this old

gentleman, in order to amuse you, has told you of all our follies. If

he thereby succeeded in cheering you up, I shall not regret having been

made the object of your sport. As concerns music and dancing, however,

I will confess that it would be difficult to find any thing that so

cheers my heart. But yet, do not suppose that I blame you, O Sire, that

you do not likewise----"

"Enough! not another word!" cried the sheik, smiling, and waving his

hand. "Every one to his taste, you were about to say. But there stands

another: that must be the young man who is so fond of travelling. Who,

then, are you, young gentleman?"

"I am a painter, O Sire," answered the young man. "I paint landscapes,

sometimes on the walls of _salons_, and sometimes on canvas. To see

foreign lands is, above all things, my wish, for one sees there a great

variety of beautiful regions that can be reproduced, and what one sees

and sketches is as a rule much finer than that which is evolved from

one's fancy."

The sheik surveyed the group of handsome young men with an earnest

look. "I once had a dear son," said he, "and he must by this time be

grown up like you. You should be his companions, and every one of your

wishes should be satisfied. With that one he would read, hear music

with this, with the other he would invite good friends and make merry,

and I would send him with the painter to beautiful regions and would

then feel sure of his safe return. But Allah has ordained otherwise,

and I bow uncomplainingly to his will. Still, it is within my power to

fulfill your wishes, and you shall leave Ali Banu with happy hearts.

You, my learned friend," continued he, turning to the young writer,

"will take up your residence in my house, and take charge of my books.

You will be at liberty to do as you think best, and your only duty will

be, when you have read some very fine story, to come and relate it to

me. You, who love to sit at a good table with your friends, shall have

the oversight of my entertainments. I myself live alone and take no

pleasures; but it is a duty that attaches to my office to now and then

invite guests. Now you shall prepare every thing in my place, and can

also invite your friends whenever you please to sit down with you--and,

let it be understood, to something better than watermelons. I certainly

can not take the young merchant away from his business, which brings

him in money and honor; but every evening, my young friend, dancers,

singers, and musicians will be at your service, and will play and dance

for you to your heart's content. And you," turning to the painter,

"shall see foreign lands, and educate your tastes by travel. My

treasurer will give you for your first journey, that you can start on

to-morrow, a thousand gold pieces, together with two horses and a

slave. Travel wherever you desire; and when you see anything beautiful,

paint it for me."

The young men were beside themselves with astonishment, speechless with

joy and gratitude. They would have kissed the ground at the feet of the

kind man, but he prevented them. "If you are indebted to any one, it is

to this wise old gentleman who told me about you. He has also given me

pleasure in this matter by making me acquainted with four such worthy

young gentlemen."

The dervish, Mustapha, however, checked the thanks of the young men.

"See," said he, "how one should never judge too hastily. Did I

exaggerate the goodness of this noble man?"

"Let us hear from another of the slaves, who is to be liberated

to-day," interrupted Ali Banu; and the young gentlemen took their

seats.

The young slave who had attracted general attention by reason of his

beautiful form and features and his bright look, now arose, and in a

melodious voice began his story.

THE STORY OF ALMANSOR.

Sire, the men who have preceded me have told wonderful stories which

they had heard in strange lands; whilst I must confess with shame that

I do not know a single tale that is worthy of your attention.

Nevertheless if it will not weary you, I will relate the strange

history of one of my friends.

On the Algerian privateer, from which your generous hand set me free,

was a young man of my own age who did not seem to have been born to the

slave-costume that he wore. The other unfortunates on the ship were

either rough, coarse people, with whom I did not care to associate or

people whose language I did not understand; therefore, every moment

that I had to myself was spent in the company of this young man. He

called himself Almansor, and, judging from his speech, was an Egyptian.

We were well pleased to be in each other's society, and one day we

chanced to tell our stories to one another; and I discovered that my

friend's story was far more remarkable than my own. Almansor's father

was a prominent man in an Egyptian city, whose name he failed to give

me. The days of his childhood passed pleasantly, surrounded by all the

splendor and comfort earth could give. At the same time, he was not too

tenderly nurtured, and his mind was early cultivated: for his father

was a wise man who taught him the value of virtue, and provided him

with a teacher who was a famous scholar, and who instructed him in all

that a young man should know. Almansor was about ten years old when the

Franks came over the sea to invade his country and wage war upon his

people.

The father of this boy could not have been very favorably regarded by

the Franks, for one day, as he was about to go to morning prayers, they

came and demanded first his wife as a pledge of his faithful adherence

to the Franks, and when he would not give her up, they seized his son

and carried him off to their camp.

When the young slave had got this far in his story, the sheik hid his

face in his hands, and there arose a murmur of indignation in the

_salon_. "How can the young man there be so indiscreet?" cried the

friends of the sheik, "and tear open the wounds of Ali Banu by such

stories, instead of trying to heal them? How can he recall his anguish,

instead of trying to dissipate it?" The steward, too, was very angry

with the shameless youth, and commanded him to be silent. But the young

slave was very much astonished at all this, and asked the sheik whether

there was any thing in what he had related that had aroused his

displeasure. At this inquiry, the sheik lifted his head, and said:

"Peace, my friends; how can this young man know any thing about my sad

misfortune, when he has not been under this roof three days! might

there not be a case similar to mine in all the cruelties the Franks

committed? May not perhaps this Almansor himself----but proceed, my

young friend!" The young slave bowed, and continued:

The young Almansor was taken to the enemy's camp. On the whole, he was

well treated there, as one of the generals took him into his tent, and

being pleased with the answers of the boy that were interpreted to him,

took care to see that he wanted for nothing in the way of food and

clothes. But the homesickness of the boy made him very unhappy. He wept

for many days; but his tears did not move the hearts of these men to

pity. The camp was broken, and Almansor believed that he was now about

to be returned to his home; but it was not so. The army moved here and

there, waged war with the Mamelukes, and took the young Almansor with

them wherever they went. When he begged the generals to let him return

home, they would refuse, and tell him that he would have to remain with

them as a hostage for his father's neutrality. Thus was he for many

days on the march.

One day, however, there was a great stir in camp, and it did not escape

the attention of the boy. There was talk about breaking camp, or

withdrawing the troops, of embarking on ships; and Almansor was beside

himself with joy. "For now," he reasoned, "when the Franks are about to

return to their own country, they will surely set me at liberty." They

all marched back towards the coast, and at last reached a point from

which they could see their ships riding at anchor. The soldiers began

to embark, but it was night before many of them were on the vessels.

Anxious as Almansor was to keep awake--for he believed he would soon be

set at liberty--he finally sank into a deep sleep. When he awoke, he

found himself in a very small room, not the one in which he had gone to

sleep in. He sprang from his couch; but when he struck the floor, he

fell over, as the floor reeled back and forth, and every thing seemed

to be moving and dancing around him. He at last got up, steadied

himself against the walls, and attempted to make his way out of the

room.

A strange roaring and rushing was to be heard all about him. He knew

not whether he waked or dreamed; for he had never heard anything at all

like it. Finally he reached a small stair-case, which he climbed with

much difficulty, and what a sensation of terror crept over him! For all

around nothing was to be seen but sea and sky; he was on board a ship!

He began to weep bitterly. He wanted to be taken back, and would have

thrown himself into the sea with the purpose of swimming to land if the

Franks had not held him fast. One of the officers called him up, and

promised that he should soon be sent home if he would be obedient, and

represented to him that it would not have been possible to send him

home across the country, and that if they had left him behind he would

have perished miserably.

But the Franks did not keep faith with him; for the ship sailed on for

many days, and when it finally reached land, it was not the Egyptian,

but the Frankish coast. During the long voyage, and in their camp too,

Almansor had learned to understand and to speak the language of the

Franks; and this was of great service to him now, in a country where

nobody knew his own language. He was taken a long journey through the

country, and everywhere the people turned out in crowds to see him; for

his conductors announced that he was the son of the King of Egypt, who

was sending him to their country to be educated. The soldiers told this

story to make the people believe that they had conquered Egypt, and had

concluded a peace with that country. After his journey had continued

several days, they came to a large city, the end of their journey.

There he was handed over to a physician, who took him into his home and

instructed him in all the customs and manners of the Franks.

First of all, he was required to put on Frankish clothes, which he

found very tight, and not nearly as beautiful as his Egyptian costume.

Then he had to abstain from making an obeisance with crossed arms, but

when he wished to greet any one politely, he must, with one hand,

lift from his head the monstrous black felt hat that had been given

him to wear, let the other hand hang at his side, and give a scrape

with his right foot. He could no longer sit down on his crossed

legs, as is the proper custom in the Levant, but he had to seat

himself on a high-legged chair, and let his feet hang down to the

floor. Eating also caused him not a little difficulty; for every thing

that he wished to put in his mouth he had to first stick on a metal

fork.

The doctor was a very harsh, wicked man, given to teasing the boy; for

when the lad would forget himself and say to an acquaintance, "_Salem

aleicum!_" the doctor would beat him with his cane telling him he

should have said, "_Votre serviteur!_" Nor was he allowed to think, or

speak, or write in his native tongue; at the very most, he could only

dream in it; and he would doubtless have entirely forgotten his own

language, had it not been for a man living in that city, who was of the

greatest service to him.

This was an old but very learned man, who knew a little of every

Oriental language--Arabic, Persian, Coptic, and even Chinese. He was

held in that country to be a miracle of learning, and he received large

sums of money for giving lessons in these languages. This man sent for

Almansor several times a week, treated him to rare fruits and the like;

and on these occasions the boy felt as if he were at home once more in

his own country. The old gentleman was a very singular man. He had some

clothes made for Almansor, such as Egyptian people of rank wore. These

clothes he kept in a particular room in his house, and whenever

Almansor came, he sent him with a servant to this room and had the boy

dressed after the fashion of his own country. From there the boy was

taken to a _salon_ called "Little Arabia." This _salon_ was adorned

with all kinds of artificially-grown trees--such as palms, bamboos,

young cedars, and the like; and also with flowers that grew only in the

Levant. Persian carpets lay on the floor, and along the walls were

cushions, but nowhere Frankish tables or chairs. Upon one of these

cushions the old professor would be found seated, but presenting quite

a different appearance from common. He had wound a fine Turkish shawl

about his head for a turban, and had fastened on a gray beard, that

reached to his sash, and looked for all the world, like the genuine

beard of an important man. With these he wore a robe that he had had

made from a brocaded dressing-gown, baggy Turkish trowsers, yellow

slippers, and, peaceful as he generally was, on these days he had

buckled on a Turkish sword, while in his sash stuck a dagger set with

false stones. He smoked from a pipe two yards long, and was waited on

by his servants, who were likewise in Persian costumes, and one half of

whom had been required to color their hands and face black.

[Illustration]

At first all this seemed very strange to the youthful Almansor; but

he soon found that these hours could be made very useful to him,

were he to join in the mood of the old man. While at the doctor's

he was not allowed to speak an Egyptian word, here the Frankish

language was forbidden. On entering, Almansor was required to give the

peace-greeting, to which the old Persian responded spiritedly, and then

he would beckon the boy to sit down near him, and began to speak

Persian, Arabic, Coptic, and all languages, one after another, and

considered this a learned Oriental entertainment. Near him stood a

servant--or, as he was supposed to be on these days, a slave--who held

a large book. This book was a dictionary; and when the old man stumbled

in his words, he beckoned to the slave, looked up what he wanted to

say, and then continued his speech.

The slaves brought in sherbet in Turkish vessels and to put the old man

in the best of humors, Almansor had only to say that every thing here

was just as it was in the Levant. Almansor read Persian beautifully,

and it was the chief delight of the old man to hear him. He had many

Persian manuscripts, from which the boy read to him, then the old man

would read attentively after him, and in this way acquired the right

pronunciation. These were holidays for little Almansor, as the

professor never let him go away unrewarded, and he often carried back

with him costly gifts of money or linen, or other useful things which

the doctor would not give him.

So lived Almansor for some years in the capital of the Franks; but

never did his longing for home diminish. When he was about fifteen

years old, an incident occurred that had great influence on his

destiny. The Franks chose their leading general--the same with whom

Almansor had often spoken in Egypt--to be their king. Almansor could

see by the unusual appearance of the streets and the great festivities

that were taking place, that something of the kind had happened; but he

never once dreamed that this king was the same man whom he had seen in

Egypt, for that general was quite a young man. But one day Almansor

went to one of the bridges that led over the wide river which flowed

through the city, and there he perceived a man dressed in the simple

uniform of a soldier, leaning over the parapet and looking down into

the water. The features of the man impressed him as being familiar, and

he felt sure of having seen him before. He tried to recall him to

memory; and presently it flashed upon him that this man was the general

of the Franks with whom he had often spoken in camp, and who had always

cared kindly for him. He did not know his right name, but he mustered

up his courage, stepped up to him, and, crossing his arms on his breast

and making an obeisance, addressed him as he had heard the soldiers

speak of him among themselves: "_Salem aleicum_, Little Corporal!"

The man looked up in surprise, cast a sharp look at the boy before him,

recalled him after a moment's pause, and exclaimed: "Is it possible!

you here, Almansor? How is your father? How are things in Egypt? What

brings you here to us?"

Almansor could not contain himself longer; he began to weep, and said

to the man: "Then you do not know what your countrymen--the dogs--have

done to me, Little Corporal? You do not know that in all this time I

have not seen the land of my ancestors?"

"I cannot think," said the man, with darkening brow, "I cannot think

that they would have kidnapped you."

"Alas," answered Almansor, "it is too true. On the day that your

soldiers embarked, I saw my fatherland for the last time. They took me

away with them, and one general, who pitied my misery, paid for my

living with a hateful doctor, who beats and half starves me. But

listen, Little Corporal," continued he confidentially, "it is well that

I met you here; you must help me."

The man whom he thus addressed, smiled, and asked in what way he should

help him.

[Illustration]

"See," said Almansor, "it would be unfair for me to ask much from you;

you were very kind to me, but still I know that you are a poor man, and

when you were general you were not as well-dressed as the others, and

now, judging from your coat and hat, you cannot be in very good

circumstances. But the Franks have recently chosen a sultan, and beyond

doubt you know people who can approach him--the minister of war, maybe,

or of foreign affairs, or his admiral; do you?"

"Well, yes," answered the man; "but what more?"

"You might speak a good word for me to these people, Little Corporal,

so that they would beg the sultan to let me go. Then I should need some

money for the journey over the sea; but, above all, you must promise me

not to say a word about this to either the doctor or the Arabic

professor!"

"Who is the Arabic professor?"

"Oh, he is a very strange man; but I will tell you about him some other

time. If these two men should hear of this, I should not be able to get

away. But will you speak to the minister about me? Tell me honestly!"

"Come with me," said the man; "perhaps I can be of some use to you

now."

"Now?" cried the boy, in a fright. "Not for any consideration now; the

doctor would whip me for being gone so long. I must hurry back!"

"What have you in your basket?" asked the soldier, as he detained him.

Almansor blushed, and at first was not inclined to show the contents of

his basket; but finally he said: "See, Little Corporal, I must do such

services as would be given to my father's meanest slave. The doctor is

a miserly man, and sends me every day an hour's distance from our house

to the vegetable and fish-market. There I must make my purchases among

the dirty market-women, because things may be had of them for a few

coppers less than in our quarter of the city. Look! on account of this

miserable herring, and this handful of lettuce, and this piece of

butter, I am forced to take a two hours' walk every day. Oh, if my

father only knew of it!"

The man whom Almansor addressed was much moved by the boy's distress,

and answered: "Only come with me, and don't be afraid. The doctor

shall not harm you, even if he has to go without his herring and salad

to-day. Cheer up, and come along." So saying, he took Almansor by the

hand and led him away with him; and although the boy's heart beat fast

when he thought of the doctor, yet there was so much assurance in the

man's words and manner, that he resolved to go with him. He therefore

walked along by the side of the man, with his basket on his arm,

through many streets; and it struck him as very wonderful that all the

people took off their hats as they passed along and paused to look

after them. He expressed his surprise at this to his companion, but he

only laughed and made no reply.

Finally they came to a magnificent palace. "Do you live here. Little

Corporal?" asked Almansor.

"This is my house, and I will take you in to see my wife," replied the

soldier.

"Hey! how finely you live! The sultan must have given you the right to

live here free."

"You are right; I have this house from the emperor," answered his

companion, and led him into the palace. They ascended a broad

stair-case, and on coming into a splendid _salon_, the man told the boy

to set down his basket, and he then led him into an elegant room where

a lady was sitting on a divan. The man talked with her in a strange

language, whereupon they both began to laugh, and the lady then

questioned the boy in the Frankish language about Egypt. Finally the

Little Corporal said to the boy: "Do you know what would be the best

thing to do? I will lead you myself to the emperor, and speak to him

for you!"

Almansor shrank back at this proposal, but he thought of his misery and

his home. "To the unfortunate," said he, addressing them both, "to the

unfortunate, Allah gives fresh courage in the hour of need. He will not

desert a poor boy like me. I will do it; I will go to the emperor. But

tell me. Little Corporal, must I prostrate myself before him? must I

touch the ground with my forehead? What shall I do?"

They both laughed again at this, and assured him that all this was

unnecessary.

"Does he look terrible and majestic?" inquired he further. "Tell me,

how does he look?"

His companion laughed once more, and said: "I would rather not describe

him to you, Almansor. You shall see for yourself what manner of man he

is. But I will tell you how you may know him. All who are in the

_salon_ will, when the emperor is there, respectfully remove their

hats. He who retains his hat on his head is the emperor."

So saying, he took the boy by the hand and went with him towards the

_salon_. The nearer they came, the faster beat the boy's heart, and his

knees began to tremble. A servant flung open the door, and revealed

some thirty men standing in a half-circle, all splendidly dressed and

covered with gold and stars (as is the custom in the land of the Franks

for the chief ministers of the king). And Almansor thought that his

plainly-dressed companion must be the least among these. They had all

uncovered their heads, and Almansor now looked around to see who

retained his hat; for that one would be the king. But his search was in

vain; all held their hats in their hands, and the emperor could not be

among them. Then, quite by chance, his eye fell upon his companion, and

behold----he still had his hat on his head!

The boy was utterly confounded. He looked for a long time at his

companion, and then said, as he took off his own hat: "_Salem aleicum_,

Little Corporal! This much I know, that I am not the Sultan of the

Franks, nor is it my place to keep my head covered. But you are the one

who wears a hat; Little Corporal, are you the emperor?"

"You have guessed right," was the answer; "and, more than that, I am

your friend. Do not blame me for your misfortune, but ascribe it to an

unfortunate complication of circumstances, and be assured that you

shall return to your fatherland in the first ship that sails. Go back

now to my wife, and tell her about the Arabic professor and your other

adventures. I will send the herrings and lettuce to the doctor, and you

will, during your stay here, remain in my palace."

Thus spake the emperor. Almansor dropped on his knees before him,

kissed his hand, and begged his forgiveness, as he had not known him to

be the emperor.

"You are right," answered the emperor, laughing. "When one has been an

emperor for only a few days, he cannot be expected to have the seal of

royalty stamped on his forehead." Thus spake the emperor, and motioned

the boy to leave the _salon_.

After this Almansor lived happily. He was permitted to visit the Arabic

professor occasionally, but never saw the doctor again. In the course

of some weeks, the emperor sent for him, and informed him that a ship

was lying at anchor in which he would send him back to Egypt. Almansor

was beside himself with joy. But a few days were required in which to

make his preparations; and with a heart full of thanks, and loaded down

with costly presents, he left the emperor's palace, and travelled to

the seashore, where he embarked.

But Allah chose to try him still more, chose to temper his spirit by

still further misfortune, and would not yet let him see the coast of

his fatherland. Another race of Franks, the English, were carrying on a

naval warfare with the emperor. They took away all of his ships that

they could capture; and so it happened that on the sixth day of

Almansor's voyage, his ship was surrounded by English vessels, and

fired into. The ship was forced to surrender, and all her people were

placed in a smaller ship that sailed away in company with the others.

Still it is fully as unsafe on the sea as in the desert, where the

robbers unexpectedly fall on caravans, and plunder and kill. A Tunisian

privateer attacked the small ship, that had been separated from the

larger ships by a storm, and captured it, and all the people on board

were taken to Algiers and sold.

Almansor was treated much better in slavery than were the Christians

who were captured with him, for he was a Mussulman; but still he had

lost all hopes of ever seeing his father again. He lived as the slave

of a rich man for five years, and did the work of a gardener. At the

end of that time, his rich master died without leaving any near heirs;

his possessions were broken up, his slaves were divided, and Almansor

fell into the hands of a slave-dealer, who had just fitted up a ship to

carry his slaves to another market, where he might sell them to

advantage. By chance I was also a slave of this dealer, and was put on

this ship together with Almansor. There we got acquainted with each

other, and there it was that he related to me his strange adventures.

But as we landed I was a witness of a most wonderful dispensation of

Allah. We had landed on the coast of Almansor's fatherland; it was the

market-place of his native city where we were put up for sale; and O,

Sire! to crown all this, it was his own, his dear father who bought

him!

The sheik, All Banu, was lost in deep thought over this story, which

had carried him along on the current of its events. His breast swelled,

his eye sparkled, and he was often on the point of interrupting his

young slave; but the end of the story disappointed him.

"He would be about twenty-one years old, you said?" began the sheik.

"Sire, he is of my age, from twenty-one to twenty-two years old."

"And what did he call the name of his native city? You did not tell us

that."

"If I am not mistaken, it was Alessandria!"

"Alessandria!" cried the sheik. "It was my son! Where is he living? Did

you not say that he was called Kairam? Has he dark eyes and brown

hair?"

"He has, and in confidential moods he called himself Kairam, and not

Almansor."

"But, Allah! Allah! Yet, tell me: his father bought him before your

eyes, you said. Did he say it was his father? Is he not my son!"

The slave answered: "He said to me: 'Allah be praised; after so long a

period of misfortune, there is the market-place of my native city.'

After a while, a distinguished-looking man came around the corner, at

whose appearance Almansor cried: 'Oh, what a blessed gift of heaven are

one's eyes! I see once more my revered father!' The man walked up to

us, examined this and that one, and finally bought him to whom all this

had happened; whereupon he praised Allah, and whispered to me. 'Now I

shall return to the halls of fortune; it is my own father that has

bought me.'"

"Then it was not my son, my Kairam!" exclaimed the sheik in a tone of

anguish.

The young slave could no longer restrain himself. Tears of joy sprang

into his eyes; he prostrated himself before the sheik, and said: "And

yet it is your son, Kairam Almansor; for you are the one who bought

him!"

"Allah! Allah! A wonder, a miracle!" cried those present, as they

crowded closer. But the sheik stood speechless, staring at the young

man, who turned his handsome face up to him. "My friend Mustapha!" said

the sheik at last to the old man, "before my eyes hangs a veil of tears

so that I cannot see whether the features of his mother, which my

Kairam bare, are graven on the face of this young man. Come closer and

look at him!"

The old dervish stepped up, examined the features of the young man

carefully, and laying his hand on the forehead of the youth, said:

"Kairam, what was the proverb I taught you on that sad day in the camp

of the Franks?"

"My dear master!" answered the young man, as he drew the hand of the

dervish to his lips, "it ran thus: _So that one loves Allah, and has a

clear conscience, he will not be alone in the wilderness of woe, but

will have two companions to comfort him constantly at his side._"

The old man raised his eyes gratefully to heaven, drew the young man to

his breast, and then gave him to the sheik, saying: "Take him to your

bosom; as surely as you have sorrowed for him these ten years, so

surely is he your son!"

The sheik was beside himself with joy; he scanned the features of his

newly-found son again and again, until he found there the unmistakable

picture of his boy as he was before he had lost him. And all present

shared in his joy, for they loved the sheik, and to each one of them it

was as if a son had that day been sent to him.

Now once more did music and song fill these halls, as in the days of

fortune and of joy. Once more must the young man tell his story, and

all were loud in their praises of the Arabic professor, and the

emperor, and all who had been kind to Kairam. They sat together until

far into the night; and when the assembly broke up, the sheik presented

each one with valuable gifts that they might never forget this day of

joy.

But the four young men, he introduced to his son, and invited them to

be his constant companions; and it was arranged that the son should

read with the young writer, make short journeys with the painter, that

the merchant should share in his songs and dances, and the other young

man should arrange all the entertainments. They too received presents,

and left the house of the sheik with light hearts.

"Whom have we to thank for all this?" said they to one another; "whom

but the old man? Who could have foreseen all this, when we stood before

this house and declaimed against the sheik?"

"And how easily we might have been led into turning a deaf ear to the

discourses of the old man, or even into making sport of him? For he

looked so ragged and poor, who would have suspected that he was the

wise Mustapha?"

"And--wonderful coincidence--was it not here that we gave expression to

our wishes?" said the writer. "One would travel, another see singing

and dancing, the third have good company, and I----read and hear

stories; and are not all our wishes fulfilled? May I not read all the

sheik's books, and buy as many more as I choose?"

"And may not I arrange the banquets and superintend all his

entertainments, and be present at them myself?" said the other.

"And I, whenever my heart is desirous of hearing songs and stringed

instruments, may I not go and ask for his slaves?"

"And I," cried the painter; "until to-day I was poor, and could not set

foot outside the town; and now I can travel where I choose."

"Yes," repeated they all, "it was fortunate that we accompanied the old

man, else who knows what would have become of us?"

So they spoke and went cheerful and happy to their homes.