Oriental tales, for the entertainment of youth Selected from the most eminent English writers

“A certain Cham of Tartary going a progress with his nobles, was met by a Dervise, who cried with a loud voice,”—“Whoever will give me a hundred pieces of gold, I will give him a piece of advice.”——Page 13.]

ORIENTAL TALES, FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF YOUTH:

SELECTED FROM THE MOST EMINENT ENGLISH WRITERS.

LONDON: PRINTED AND SOLD BY R. HARRILD, No. 20, Great Eastcheap. 1814

ORIENTAL TALES.

THE MERCHANT AND HIS SONS.

A certain merchant had two sons, the eldest of whom was of so bad a disposition as to behave with great hatred and ill-nature towards the younger, who was of a temper more mild and gentle. It happened that the old gentleman, after having acquired a large estate by his trade, left it by his will to his eldest son, together with all his ships and stock in merchandize, desiring him to continue in the business, and support his brother.

The father was no sooner dead than the elder began to shew his ill-will to his brother. He desired him to leave his house, and, without giving him any thing for his support, turned him loose into the wide world. The young man was much dejected with this treatment; but, considering that in his father’s life-time he had acquired some knowledge of business, he applied to a neighbouring merchant, offering to serve him in the way of trade.

The merchant received him into his house, and finding from long experience that he was prudent, virtuous, and diligent in his business, gave him his daughter and only child in marriage, and, when he died, bequeathed to him his whole fortune. The young man, after the death of his father-in-law, retired with his wife into a distant part of the country, where he purchased a fine estate, with a splendid dwelling; and there he lived with great credit and reputation.

The elder brother, after the father’s death, for some time had great success in trade. At length, however, a violent storm tore to pieces many of his ships, which were coming home richly laden. About the same time some persons failing, who had much of their money in his hands, he was reduced to great want. To complete his misfortunes, the little which he had left at home was consumed by a sudden fire, which burnt his house, and every thing in it; so that he was brought into a state of beggary.

In this forlorn condition, he had no other resource to keep himself from starving than to wander up and down the country, imploring the assistance of well-disposed persons. It happened one day, that having travelled many miles, and obtained but little relief, he saw a gentleman walking in the fields, not far from a fine seat. To this gentleman he addressed himself, and having laid before him his misfortunes and his present necessitous condition, he earnestly entreated him to grant him some assistance. The gentleman, who happened to be no other than his own brother, did not at first know him; but after some discourse with him, he perceived who he was. At first, however, he did not make it appear that he had any knowledge of him, but brought him home, and ordered his servants to take care of him, and furnish him for that night with lodgings and victuals.

In the mean time he resolved to discover himself to his brother next morning, and offer him a constant habitation in his house, after he had got the consent of his wife to the proposal. Accordingly, next morning, he ordered the poor man to be sent for. When he was come into his presence, he asked if he knew him. The poor man answered, he did not. I am, said he, bursting into tears, your only brother! and immediately fell on his neck, and embraced him with great tenderness. The elder, quite astonished at this accident, fell to the ground, and began to make many excuses, and to beg pardon for his former cruel behaviour. To whom the other answered, “Brother, let us forget those things; I heartily forgive you all that is past; you need not range up and down the world; you shall be welcome to live with me.” He readily accepted the proposal, and they lived together with great comfort and happiness till death.

STORY OF MENCIUS.

As Mencius, the philosopher, was travelling in pursuit of wisdom, night overtook him at the foot of a gloomy mountain, remote from the habitations of men. Here, as he was straying, (while rain and thunder conspired to make solitude still more hideous) he perceived a hermit’s cell, and approaching, asked for shelter. “Enter,” cries the hermit in a severe tone; “men deserve not to be obliged; but it would be imitating their ingratitude to treat them as they deserve. Come in: examples of vice may sometimes strengthen us in the ways of virtue.”

After a frugal meal, which consisted of roots and tea, Mencius could not repress his curiosity to know why the hermit had retired from mankind, whose actions taught the truest lessons of wisdom. “Mention not the name of man,” cried the hermit with indignation; “here let me live retired from a base ungrateful world; here, in the forest I shall find no flatterers. The lion is an open enemy, and the dog a faithful friend; but man, base man, can poison the bowl, and smile when he presents it.” “You have then been used ill by mankind?” interrupted the philosopher drily. “Yes,” replied the hermit; “on mankind I have exhausted my whole fortune; and this staff, that cup, and those roots, are all that I have in return.”—“Did you bestow your fortune among them, or did you only lend it?” returned Mencius. “I bestowed it, undoubtedly,” replied the other; “for where were the merit of being a money lender?”—“Did they ever own that they received your benefits?” still adds the philosopher. “A thousand times,” cries the hermit; “they every day loaded me with professions of gratitude for favours received, and solicitations for future ones.”—“If, then, (says Mencius smiling) you did not lend your fortune in order to have it returned, it is injustice to accuse them of ingratitude; they owned themselves obliged; you expected no more; and they certainly earn a favour who stoop to acknowledge the obligation.”—The hermit was struck with the reply; and, surveying his guest with emotion, “I have heard of the great Mencius, and thou certainly art the man. I am now fourscore years old, but still a child in wisdom; take me back to the world, and educate me as one of the most ignorant, and youngest, of thy disciples.”

THE STORY OF SCHACABAC.

Schacabac being reduced to great poverty, and having eat nothing for two days together, made a visit to a noble Barmecide, in Persia, who was very hospitable, but withal a great humourist.—The Barmecide was sitting at his table, that seemed ready covered for an entertainment. Upon hearing Schacabac’s complaint, he desired him to sit down and fall on. He then gave him an empty plate, and asked him how he liked his rice-soup. Schacabac, who was a man of wit, and resolved to comply with the Barmecide in all his humours, told him it was admirable, and at the same time, in imitation of the other, lifted up the empty spoon to his mouth with great pleasure. The Barmecide then asked him if he ever saw whiter bread? Schacabac, who saw neither bread nor meat, If I did not like it, you may be sure, says he, I should not eat so heartily of it. You oblige me mightily, replied the Barmecide, pray let me help you to this leg of goose. Schacabac reached out his plate, and received nothing on it with great chearfulness. As he was eating very heartily of this imaginary goose, and crying up the sauce to the skies, the Barmecide desired him to keep a corner of his stomach for a roasted lamb, fed with pistachio-nuts, and after having called for it, as though it had really been served up, Here is a dish, says he, that you will see at nobody’s table but my own. Schacabac was wonderfully delighted with the taste of it, which is like nothing, says he, I ever eat before. Several other nice dishes were served up in idea, which both of them commended, and feasted on after the same manner. This was followed by an invisible desert, no part of which delighted Schacabac so much as a certain lozenge, which the Barmecide told him was a sweet-meat of his own invention. Schacabac at length, being courteously reproached by the Barmecide, that he had no stomach, and that he eat nothing, and at the same time being tired with moving his jaws up and down to no purpose, desired to be excused, for that really he was so full that he could not eat a bit more. Come, then, says the Barmecide, the cloth shall be removed, and you shall taste of my wines, which I may say, without vanity, are the best in Persia. He then filled both their glasses out of an empty decanter. Schacabac would have excused himself from drinking so much at once, because he said he was a little quarrelsome in his liquor; however, being prest to it, he pretended to take it off, having before-hand praised the colour, and afterwards the flavour. Being plied with two or three other imaginary bumpers of different wines equally delicious, and a little vexed with this fantastic treat, he pretended to grow fluttered, and gave the Barmecide a good box on the ear; but immediately recovering himself, Sir, says he, I beg ten thousand pardons, but I told you before, that it was my misfortune to be quarrelsome in my drink. The Barmecide could not but smile at the humour of his guest, and instead of being angry with him, I find, says he, thou art a complaisant fellow, and deservest to be entertained in my house. Since thou canst accommodate thyself to my humour, we will now eat together in good earnest. Upon which calling for his supper, the rice-soup, the goose, the pistachio-lamb, the several other nice dishes, with the desert, the lozenges, and all the variety of Persian wines, were served up successively one after another; and Schacabac was feasted, in reality, with those very things which he had before been entertained within imagination.

HAMET AND RASCHID.

When the plains of India were burnt up by a long continuance of drought, Hamet and Raschid, two neighbouring shepherds, faint with thirst, stood at the common boundary of their grounds, with their flocks and herds panting round them, and in extremity of distress prayed for water. On a sudden the air was becalmed, the birds ceased to chirp, and the flocks to bleat. They turned their eyes every way, and saw a being of mighty stature advancing through the valley, whom they knew upon his nearer approach to be the Genius of Distribution. In one hand he held the sheaves of plenty, and in the other, the sabre of destruction. The shepherds stood trembling, and would have retired before him; but he called to them with a voice gentle as the breeze that plays in the evening among the spices of Sabæa: “Fly not from your benefactor, children of the dust! I am come to offer you gifts, which only your own folly can make vain. You here pray for water, and water I will bestow; let me know with how much you will be satisfied: speak not rashly; consider, that of whatever can be enjoyed by the body, excess is no less dangerous than scarcity. When you remember the pain of thirst, do not forget the danger of suffocation. Now, Hamet, tell me your request.”