proves your
repentance. You must continue it, not ceasing to ask of God
pardon in every prayer your religion obliges you to say daily:
but that you may not be prevented from your devotions by the care
of getting your living, I will settle a charity on you during
your life, of four silver dirhems a day, which my grand vizier
shall give you daily with the penance, therefore do not go away,
but wait till he has executed my orders."

At these words, Baba Abdoollah prostrated himself before the
caliph's throne, returned him thanks, and wished him all
happiness and prosperity.

The caliph, very well satisfied with the story of Baba Abdoollah
and the dervish, addressed himself to the young man who used his
mare so ill, and asked him his name; to which he replied, it was
Syed Naomaun.

"Syed Naomaun," resumed the caliph, "I have seen horses exercised
all my life, and have often exercised them myself, but never in
so barbarous a manner as you yesterday treated your mare in the
full square, to the great offence of all the spectators, who
murmured loudly at your conduct. I myself was not less
displeased, and had nearly, contrary to my intention, discovered
who I was, to have punished your cruelty. By your air and
behaviour you do not seem to be a barbarous or cruel man; and
therefore I would fain believe that you had reason for what you
did, since I am informed that this was not the first time, but
that you practise the same treatment every day. I would know what
is the cause, and sent for you for that purpose, that you should
tell me the truth, and disguise nothing from me."

Syed Naomaun understood what the caliph demanded of him. The
relation was painful to him. He changed colour several times, and
could not help shewing how greatly he was embarrassed. However,
he must resolve to tell his story; but before he spoke, he
prostrated himself before the caliph's throne, and after he rose
up, endeavoured to speak to satisfy the caliph, but was so
confounded, not so much at the presence of the caliph, as by the
nature of his relation, that he was speechless.

The caliph, notwithstanding his natural impatience to be obeyed,
shewed not the least anger at Syed Naomaun's silence: he saw
plainly, that he either had not assurance to speak before him, or
was intimidated by the tone of his voice; or, in short, that
there was something to be concealed in his story.

"Syed Naomaun," said the caliph, to encourage him, "recollect
your