"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
the faces of my enemies!"
"That would be a beautiful handwriting!' observed Mr. Lion,
laughing. "It will, however, be some time before you can do that,
and, in the mean while, I would advise you to go to old Scha-er
Mehsed, the story-teller. He knows wonderful tales, and the whole
history of the great Prophet Mohammed. You know, in the evenings,
crowds assemble around him, and it fairly rains pennies. But Scha-er
Mehsed has grown old, and hard to understand because he has lost his
teeth. Go and listen to him, then take your seat on the stone and
tell stories of the olden time yourself."
"No, Mr. Lion, that does not suit me either.
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