endeavour to conceal ourselves, and spend our nights in tears and
sorrow. In short, a poor man is looked upon, both by friends and
relations, as a stranger. You know, mother, how I have treated my
friends for this year past; I have entertained them with all
imaginable generosity, till I have spent all my money, and now
they have left me, when they suppose I can treat them no longer.
For my real estate, I thank heaven for having given me grace to
keep the oath I made not to encroach upon that. I shall now know
how to use what is left. But I will, however, try how far my
friends, who deserve not that I should call them so, will carry
their ingratitude. I will go to them one after another, and when
I have represented to them what I have done on their account, ask
them to make up a sum of money, to relieve me, merely to try if I
can find any sentiment of gratitude remaining in them."

"I do not pretend, son," said Abou Hassan's mother, "to dissuade
you from your design; but I can tell you beforehand, that you
have no ground for hope. Believe me, you will kind no relief but
from the estate you have reserved. I see you do not, but will
soon, know those people, who, among persons of your sort, are
generally called friends, and I wish to heaven you may know it in
the manner I desire, for your own good." "Mother," replied Abou
Hassan, "I am persuaded of the truth of what you say, but shall
be more certain of a fact which concerns me so nearly, when I
shall have informed myself fully of their baseness and
insensibility." Abou Hassan went immediately to his friends, whom
he found at home; represented to them the great need he was in,
and begged of them to assist him. He promised to give bonds to
pay them the money they might lend him; giving them to understand
at the same time, that it was, in a great measure, on their