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66 excess of eating and drinking: I was fearful that you had been taken in the same way."

"Have no fear upon my account, my good friend Nadir: I must have been light-headed indeed if I had sent for you for any purpose but to converse with you."

"And yet," said Nadir," this emetic is one of the finest and pleasantest things in the world."

"Well, then," replied Abud, "let me advise you to take it yourself. But before you swallow the dose, answer me one question, for fear you should not be able to do it after : have you seen your old woman this morning?" "No!"

"Who?" repeated Nadir.

"Genius of incredulity, Hosen the second!" cried Abud, in a rage, “I affirm that Tamira and Ismael have eloped together!"

"Poor Abud! I now see how it is," said the apothecary. Ah! I wish you would take my emetic."

"Confound your emetic!" cried Abud; pour it into Tartarus, or the Sulphur Lake, or down the red dragon's throat! Are you a sceptic? Will you not believe what I assert?"

"Figuratively I will," said Nadir, "and shall deduce a good moral from it. It is like the story of the prophetess Nuna's (who had lived from the beginning of time) disap

"Nor my young guest, the fa- pearance all at once with the shep

quir?"

"No!"

"Nor heard of them, or either of them?"

"No! no! no!" said the apothecary, as he whipered to himself, "I must treat my friend with great tenderness and respect, as he seems to be thoroughly delirious."

"Have you not seen Tamira ?" repeated Abud, raising his voice.

"I have not seen her this morning," returned Nadir; "she, I believe, left my house before day. break."

"Nor the faquir?”

"I have not positively seen him at all. I told you so before; but I do not wonder if in your state of mind I wish you would take my emetic."

"May Astoreth take your emetic!" exclaimed Abud; though I question if even his constitution would bear it. Listen to me, neigh bour Nadir."

"I do, my dear friend, with respect and reverence. Your discourse begins to be deep. It will soon become oraculous."

"Whatsoever you may think of my discourse, whether it be deep or shallow, you may depend upon it they have eloped together." "Who?" cried Nadir. "Why, the old woman and the young faquir ?”

herd Cara, who had not existed twenty years; therefore in your own way tell me how the elopement was effected."

"Early this morning," returned Abud, "your old woman, whom, from a boy, I never liked

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"I am glad of it! or you might have eloped with her," said Nadir. "Came to my house," continued Abud. "My slaves inform me, that she wished to see the young faquir.” "So!" said Nadir.

"After waiting some time, and much altercation, she prevailed upon one of them to show her to the door of his chamber. She knocked; some conversation passed betwixt them; at length she gained admittance.'

"What! cried Nadir. "Yes!" "No!" said the apothecary, "it is impossible!"

into his chamber?"

"I tell you it is true." Nadir shook his head. Abud continued: "How long they were together no one can tell. When I rose, I went to pay my respects to my guest; the door was wide open, the chamber empty, the birds flown."

One of them is too old to fly "And so, very far," said Nadir. friend Abud, you believe this story?" "I know it to be fact!"

"Poor Abud!" continued Nadir;

"I question if even the green powder which bears the seal of Solomon would repress this delirium."

"You are still incredulous," said Abud.

"Not at all," said the apothecary, "with respect to your disorder. Fruit has been known to affect the head; and I observed that you yesterday ate a great deal of fruit. But to suppose that the reverend father Ismael and the beautiful virgin Tamira have eloped together, would stagger the credulity of the great Zaid, who has framed a ladder ascending to the moon, and in that planet peopled a hypothetical world." “Yet,” said Abud, “nothing is more certain. The young faquir is not here."

"True!" returned Nadir; " but he has made a vow of chastity, which he will not break, at least with my old woman."

"Nor is Tamira there?" "Where?" cried the apothecary, "At your house," continued Abud. "Indeed she is," said a slave, who had been sent to seek this couple; "I found her in the shop of the learned Nadir."

"I have no doubt but you did," said the apothecary. "Was she

alone?"

"Yes."

"I told you so, friend Abud." "Where, then," cried Abud, "is the faquir?"

"In his own chamber," replied the slave.

"What! in this house?"
"Yes."

"I told you so," said Nadir; "eloped indeed! Poor Abud! Now let me persuade you to take my emetic."

"May the black angel take it! I will develope these deeds of darkness! I will discover the truth!" exclaimed Abud, as he rushed out of the apartment.

"My friend," said Nadir, as he followed him, "proceeds to the discovery of truth as intemperately as any philosopher in the Persian empire."

The slave had most truly stated

that Tamira was at the house of Nadir. She had returned soon after he went to wait upon Abud; and, dismissing the youth that he had left in possession, had arranged every domestic matter, had laid the table, and, from the remains of the preceding day, with a small addition, had prepared him a meal which would have provoked an appetite less keen than that of Nadir when he returned from visiting his friend and his few patients.

His bamboo sopha and cushion were placed ready to receive him. Tamira presented him water; he performed his ablution, ate his dinner, during the course of which he observed a most profound silence. As nothing could be more disagreeable to this ancient matron than to be curtailed of those opportunities to speak at meal times, which indeed Nadir generally afforded her, she concluded that he was angry, and had just began to hesitate an apology, when Ismael entered. "You see, son Nadir," said the young faquir," that I have soon returned your visit, through my desire to see you where I could speak with more freedom than in the presence of Abud, who, though he is not deficient in hospitality, seems rather of a suspicious temper."

"And when he has taken up an opinion, obstinate to a degree," said Tamira. "I am sure," she continued, "my master knows that it is impossible to persuade him even for his good."

"I had a proof of this to-day," cried Nadir; "for all I could do, he would not take my emetic."

"He ought to have taken all the emetics in your shop," said Ismael," rather than have seemed to doubt the skill of the learned Nadir, the light of physic, the phosphorus of philosophy. But to have done at once with him, I have determined to leave his house, and have ordered my baggage to yours."

"That," returned the apothecary, "was not an order that could give much trouble to any one; for if I recollect right, all your property,

you said, was personal, and your whole baggage enclosed in your purse. That, I will own, contained a mine of riches. However, the objection I stated yesterday remains to-day in as full force: I have no accommodation."

"None?" said the faquir.

"It is true," continued the apothecary," that I have two large chambers, but they are empty, and have been so for years: the worms and I were employed in the same way, that is, in turning different sorts of wood into powder; only they rendered all the furniture of my ancestors impalpable without the aid of a pestle and mortar. I hope by this time they have made no scruple to take every grain of it."

"You are certain that these apartments are empty?" said Ismael.

"Unless the genii of Aladin have furnished them," returned the apothecary.

"Well! indulge me with a sight of them."

"Tis an indulgence which I have not afforded myself these many years," said Nadir, as he ushered up Ismael, followed by the old woman. "You might," he continued, "as easily open the gate of the iron sepulchre of Sergius, whose tomb was secured under more stones than went to the building of the column in the Aurat Bazar at Constantinople, for fear it should take a flight into Midair, like that of our holy prophet. Ha! how is this? the key turns with great ease!" he cried, as the door few open, and discovered an apartment which, though plainly, was handsomely furnished. The astonishment of Nadir deprived him of speech, as he crossed this and went into the interior room, in which he found a bed, and all the conveniences of a chamber, and every thing perfectly new and neat. "How was this change effected?" he at length exclaimed. "The genii of the lamp have certainly been here?"

"You should rather say, the genii of the mine, son Nadir," said the faquir, (6 or the genii of your house. The change which you ob

serve in these apartments has been effected by the ingenuity of Tamira aided by the talismanic influence of a certain number of tomans. Every thing may be had for money in Ispahan."

"Then this was the business," returned Nadir, " that you and Tamira were engaged in this morning, when the sagacious Abud said that you had eloped." "Certainly!"

"What do you propose by this expence?"

I have already told you, most wise Nadir!" said Ismael, "that I came from the neighbourhood of Golconda, but I did not add that I' am a native of the capital of that kingdom. Your sagacity suggested to you yesterday, that this robe, in which I appear as a faquir, is a disguise assumed for some particular purpose: in fact, it is so; I have flown from the house of my father."

"Who is your father?"

"One of the richest persons in Golconda."

"Probably a diamond merchant?" "How near the truth your wisdom points," continued Ismael : "he has indeed in his possession the finest diamonds in the world."

"I dare say," cried Nadir, “ that he is the person whom black Absalom, the rich Jew, who furnishes our sovereign lord the sophy with these brilliant articles, deals with. What is his name?"

"Pardon me, learned Nadir," said Ismael; " as I wish my person, so do I wish his name to be concealed: a difference respecting some family arrangements induced him to leave his house. The money which I possess, and the jewels far more valuable, are my own property; they came to me in right of my mother. I have endeavoured to preserve the utmost rectitude in my conduct; and although I have made this unfortunate lapse in my duty to him, I was actuated by imperious necessity."

"How did you travel?" said Na

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"That," continued Ismael, "it is impossible correctly to Perhaps it will develope itself. have only to desire that you will suffer me to reside here as long as my occasions call."

"To this request," said Nadir, "I can have no objection. You are young, have been educated with care, perhaps are the darling of a father who now laments your absence. You are unprotected; and although you do not want understanding, unacquainted with the ways of the world in general, and of this city in particular. I certainly feel myself inclined to become your protector and adviser, as far as my little influence or wisdom extends; therefore I expect you should answer me one question with candour and sincerity."

"As sincere and candid as I would to the harbinger of our prophet will I answer you, oh Nadir!" returned Ismael.

"Did you elope alone?" "Certainly! Whom do you suppose I should have taken with me?" "A younger lady than you was suspected with this day," said Nadir. "No lady, young or old, accompanied me, I give you my solemn word," said Ismael.

ra;

"I am sorry Abud, whom I have known from a child, should have such an opinion of me," said Tami"I never deserved it!" "No! I'll be sworn you did not," replied Nadir; "and he is the only man in the dominions of the sophy that would have suspected it. However, I can only deduce the disorder of his intellect which produced this suspicion from repletion, and aver, that its continuance in it arises from his obstinacy in refusing to take my emetic."

To be continued.

For the Literary Magazine.

ON ADVICE.

To the Editor, &c.

Be niggards of advice on no pretence; For the worst avarice is that of sense. POPE.

SIR,

"THERE is nothing (says the Spectator) we receive with so much reluctance as advice. We look upon the man that gives it as offering an affront to our understanding, and treating us like children or ideots."

We find ourselves deficient in any thing else sooner than in our understanding. The reason is plain: it is this alone by which we judge of other things; if, therefore, this is faulty, it is no wonder if it makes a wrong judgment, and obliges us to pass too favourable an opinion on ourselves and actions. Hence it is that the most ignorant are most conceited, and most impatient of advice, as unable to discern either their own folly or the wisdom of others. A certain degree of intelligence is requisite to a man, to be able to know that he knows not as much as he should. Possibly they may not be altogether in the wrong who reckon it a happiness to some people to be so much in love with themselves, as not to be convinced of their own ignorance; but, if it is a happiness, it is a happiness no ways superior to that of a brute for I cannot conceive man in a more unhappy circumstance, than to have neither an ability to give or take instruction. But as nature has made some men capable of improvement by the good advice which is given them, fortune seems to have so posted others, as to make it hardly possible that they should have any given them at all. Thus it is with those who are surrounded with a crowd of flatterers, who, under a false pretence of friendship, encourage them in all their vices and ex

travagancies. For this reason,

great persons used formerly to keep jesters, from whom they might hear their own characters, and receive hints for the better regulating their conduct, without disssimulation, flattery, or any other disguise, than that of wit, which served to gild the bitter pill, that it might be the more easily taken. Indeed, few things require more discretion, nicety, and good-breeding, than the telling a man of his faults, and giving him advice. The first rule, and which can never too often be inculcated on this occasion, is so to order it, that the person advised may see the advice is given him for his own sake, and not to gratify the ill-humour, or show the superior understanding of the adviser; and, as Cicero says, Monitio acerbitate, objurgatio contumelia careat.

No one hears of his faults without some concern or uneasiness. While Demea tutors and admonishes us, we can scarce forbear affronting him, and are so angry at his reproofs, that they even give us a sort of an aversion to his person. When Micio shows us he is sorry for our failings, and that he cannot help differing from us in his notion of things, we love him, and are only vexed and enraged at ourselves. Micio considers how hardly we bear a superiority in understanding, and therefore introduces his counsel by the most obliging and artful expressions. "I remember, sir (says Micio), I once acted myself upon the same principles you do, but went far greater lengths than you have done." Demea assures you, he should have been frightened at himself, could he ever have thought after so monstrous a manner as he finds you do, and is amazed how such notions could enter into the head of a man of common sense. Micio knows that we have a natural desire to be happy, but are not easily convinced, that what is against our present inclinations can never conduce to make us so. A great deal of conversation with people of the most opposite humours and inclinations, has not only taught

him to know mankind thoroughly, but to pardon their several follies. Demea has gathered his wisdom chiefly out of books; he has collected together the sayings and actions of the greatest philosophers, and wisest men in all ages; and his own judgment having pronounced them just and reasonable, he has formed several maxims which he looks upon to be so selfevident in themselves, that he will hardly condescend to give reasons for them; and is resolved never to break through upon any occasion: in short, Micio, though he has a just dislike of their faults, cannot help pitying the weak and the vicious. Demea is so enraged at the least appearance of vice or folly, that he can hardly keep up the common rules of decency and good breeding towards the person of the offender.

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