med
by his fellow citizens, for he was kind and benevolent, never refusing
good counsel to those in earnest to profit by it, so that by degrees the
fame of his sagacity spread far and wide, and many came from great
distances to consult him.

One day he was sitting in front of his modest dwelling, enjoying the
soft breeze that stirred the trees hard by, reading from time to time
short passages of an ancient volume open upon his knees, when a shadow
fell across its pages, and looking up, he perceived that a stranger
stood before him, who saluted him with the greatest respect and
courtesy. The sage returned the customary greetings, and then inquired
in what he could be of service to the new-comer.

"Father," said the stranger, "I have journeyed far to ask your advice.
My quest is summed up in few words, What can I do to be happy?"

[Illustration]

The wise man looked at him searchingly. He was a handsome man in the
prime of life, richly dressed, healthy and vigorous. His appearance
would have been most prepossessing but for a melancholy and discontented
expression of countenance--there was no genial smile about the mouth, no
kindly light in the eyes.

"What have you tried?" inquired the sage.

"Everything," replied the stranger. "Yet without foolish prodigality and
excess. I have sought to surround myself with beauty and refinement, for
my wealth is inexhaustible. I have dipped deep into learning, for my
abilities are, I am told, considerable; I have even of late in a sort of
despair tried to find content in enjoyment of less elevated kinds, such
as seems to satisfy many men. But all was useless--eating and drinking,
and such physical gratifications could do nothing for one who had sought
in vain satisfaction in the perfection of music, of painting and
sculpture--nay, more, who had found in the severest of studies but
weariness and disappointment."

[Illustration]

"You have been too changeable and impatient, my son," said the sage.
"Try again--I do not say return to the lower pleasures of which you
speak, but devote yourself more exclusively to the fine arts. Travel far
and wide and visit whatever is beautiful. One year from now, return, and
tell me the result."

Abdallah bowed and departed. The year passed, and again he stood before
the sage, despondent as formerly.

"In vain. I have exhausted myself in travel. I have seen all the world
has to show. I am more miserable than ever."

"Turn then again to stud