them the carpets, turbans, and Persian shawls; and, as I have seen
you do, cover the spots with my hands and praise the goods, and then
hear them scold, and bargain, and cheapen?"

"Really, you will make a good merchant; I see you have learned a
great deal already."

"I should, when the women stroll in and seat themselves at the
counter, have to wait on them humbly with coffee, and beg them to do
us the honor? Should have to hear them talk about their domestic
affairs, their cats, and their dogs, and appear to be delighted with
the sweetness of their voices, and the lustre of their eyes?"

"By your prophet, you are a finished merchant, and will make a
splendid salesman!"

"No, I shall not!" cried the boy. "No, sir! I love you with my whole
soul, and have often observed and admired how you understand your
art, but, forgive me for saying so, I cannot become a merchant!
Propose something that I can do."

"Very well! I will propose something else; become a writer, learn
the art, understood by so few, of putting words spoken by others on
paper with signs. I should be well pleased, as I need a writer. The
one I have has grown old and lazy, and, though I can speak your
language, I cannot write it. Yes, learn to write, and then you will
be provided for permanently, for writers are rare, and--"

"I will not learn it!" said the boy, interrupting him; "I will have
nothing to do with the pen. I will write my name with the sword on