to the seller of melon-pips, nor to the bread-
woman, we find it impossible to arrive at a
rational conjecture as to the mystery, the
existence of which is evident, we shall have
received a great lesson in modesty and reserve
of thought.

In the first place, it was quite evident
that the Persian had no occupation by which
to gain his living; and the inevitable
inference was, that he must be a man of means.
These means, however, were small. The meals
served up, morning and evening, by Saleh
and the negress to the Persian and the boy
(whom we do not call his son) were very
frugal; for, although one said Aboni, and
the other Ibni, it was easy to see with one
eye that their relations were quite different.
Even when the boy was only two or three
years of age, the Persian treated him with
marked respect, and always served him first,
under pretence of affection, but in reality
from a feeling of duty.

There was little else beyond this circumstance
to notice in the actions of the inmates
of the house. In all other particulars,
matters went on there very nearly as in other
families similarly composed. Morning, noon,
and evening brought their meals; and after
the last the boy was undressed and put to
bed, whilst the Persian smoked his pipe and
looked on at that ceremony. Then, however,
there did seem something odd in the
circumstance that, instead of retiring to rest, this
said Persian had his lantern lighted, and
invariably sallied forth, not to return for
many hours. Such neighbours as were
awake to observe his movements, saw the
lantern go away in the direction of the
Kara Meydan; and learned, from the club-
armed watchman, at what time it reappeared.

Before he went, the Persian said to Saleh:
"Keep a good guard, Saleh, and sleep with
one eye open and one ear."

"Hader," replied the Egyptian. "May
this night be more fortunate than the last!"

Then the Persian went forth and performed
his errand, and came back.

"What news, O master?" inquired Saleh,
as soon as he had taken the stick and the
lantern from the Persian's hand.

The question always excited a slight
movement of irritation; but, a little while
afterwards, the answer would be given in a
cheerful voice:

"God is great and merciful! The longer
the time of sorrow, the brighter will be the
joy when it comes."

Saleh on this would shake his head, sigh,
and repair silently to his couch.

"I know that curiosity is forbidden, and
that chastisement waits on it," the negress
sometimes said to the Egyptian servant, "but
I cannot help wondering what interest you
can have in this conspiracy." The negress was
left in her ignorance by Saleh; who did not
deign to open his lips to satisfy or rebuke her.

In this way time passed on; not merely
weeks or months, but years. The Persian
never pretermitted his nightly excursions;
and, although Zarouk once tried to follow
him, no one ever learned whither he went.
Indeed, up to the present day, the gossips
of that quarter know much less about
the whole story than many inhabitants
of distant places; because very few
professionals have as yet become acquainted with
the whole details. Mohammed-ibn-Davod
Es-Rasheedi seems indeed the only one whose
version can be depended on.

The boy harboured and protected by the
Persian, was, without doubt, remarkable in
every respect. The beauty of his countenance
and grace of his demeanour were
undeniable even from the earliest years. As he
grew up, moreover, new perfections disclosed
themselves every day. By the time he was
ten years old the negress had come to view
him as wisdom itself. Saleh admired him:
even the Persian was sometimes astounded
at his remarks. When he reached the age of
fifteen he looked quite a man; and was
distinguished by gravity of mind and elegance
of manners.

All this time the same mysterious way of
living was persisted in. The whole family
seemed perpetually in expectation of some
event that did not happen. Saleh remained
taciturn with the neighbours; and the
Persian, regularly every evening, went out with
his lantern, and returned disappointed.

From a very early period the youth, who
was called Hassan, perceived that there was
something abnormal in the way of life led in
that house; and at once, with childish frankness,
questioned the Persian, and endeavoured
to ascertain the truth.

"Ibni," was the reply, "it is not proper
that thou shouldst know the secret yet. In
good time I shall be eager to tell thee.
Have patience, and indulge not in profitless
curiosity."

The Persian was in every respect a good
man, but his sagacity did not equal his
goodness. He felt the importance of concealment;
but knew not how to repress the eager desire
for information natural to Hassan's age. He
should have turned the youth's attention
into other channels.

These things did not suggest themselves to
him. Hassan was allowed or compelled to
pass the whole of his time in reading or
meditation; and no one observed that his
fondness for the first occupation gradually
diminished, and his propensity to indulge in the
other became stronger every day. Woe to
him who, on the threshold of manhood,
suddenly pauses in the study of the instruments
of future action, and begins to anticipate life,
and to conquer obstacles in thought, which he
may, perhaps, never venture to confront in
reality! Dreams should be fragments of the
past, not yearnings for the future. He who
prophesies delight to himself may be
recompensed by perpetual sadness.