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A Daniel come to Judgment! yea, a Daniel!
Shakespeare
THE Gate of the Caravans opens upon a
grove of palm-trees. Beyond is the des
ert, stretching away past eye-shot, and
gleaming like burnished brass in the
fierce light of the tropic sun.
Yusuf, the Arab boy who peddled dates,
crouched in the hadow of the gateway, watching
the approach of a caravan. The. shrill cries of the
camel-drivera came nearer and nearer, and pres
ently a long line of laden dromedaries began to file
through the open gate, slouching along with noise
less tread, and bobbing their long necks up and
down to an accompaniment of complaining grunts.
Some of the drivers tossed "'luck-money" to tho
Arab boy, 'whom they noticed, as they passed, re
membering the words of the prophet: "The good
that ye shall give in alms shall redound unto your
which so many wonderful tales were told. '
He wondered now, as he watched the camels file
past, whether he would ever be able to earn enough
to buy one of those great, grunting, silent-fdbted
beasts. A driver had told him once that even 'the
cheapest camel costs more than a hundred pieces
of gold, and a really good one twice as much. The
boy raised hit hand to his turban, and felt the one
gold coin that was tucked securely away in the
lining. Just onel And be needed so many morel
He picked up the coppers the men had flung him,
wishing1 in his heart they were gold coins, too,
and followed dejectedly in the wake of the camels,
that could still be seen at the far end of the narrow
street.
All at once, as he shuffled along, his .bare foot
struck against something in the dust of the road
way that gave forth a jingling sound, He stooped
quickly, and picked up a netted purse of green silk I
Not a little slender purse, but big, fat, bulging
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'my emeiaid! my emerald! what bast thou dons wna it thiefseggai?"
Perhaps, .too, some of them felt genuine pity for
the orphan lad, whose father , had owned many cam
els, and had led many a richly laden caravan safely
across the sandy wilderness, before he and his for
'tune we're swept away in one of those terrible
simoons, that in ' moment, rushing from no one
knows whence, blinds, burns and buries its victims,
and sweeps on, no one knows whither,
It was Yusuf's ambition to own a camel and travel
with the caravans. The sailor's son loves the sea,
though his father's, bones lie bleaching at the bottom
of it; and Yusuf yearned for the desert as only an
'Arab can, although he knew that somewhere in its
treacherous sands his father body lajp Every fcy
at noon, when the merchant closed their bazaars
and retired for thctr midday nap, the little, date-;
seller would wander off to the Gate of the Caravans, '
and "gaze wistfully' on that great sea' of sarid of
purse; and through Its meshes the boy caught the
glint of gold! Yusuf slipped the purse quickly into
the bosom of his tunic. He glanced furtively around.
The street was deserted. No -one had seen him pick
up the purse. No one need know he had found it
unless he chose to tell. Need he tell? . He slipped
back to the shade of the gateway, and sat down to
think. ; - -' ' . -t
He sat there, turning the matter over in his mind,
' a long, long while-, his hand pressed over the spot
where the purse lay. How heavy it was! He dared
; not take it out to count his treasure, but he knew
by the weight of jtthat here was the price of his
camel, nd more. Need he tell?
Whenever perplexed by doubt as to what he
should do, the orphan had always before had re.
course to one magic question: "What would father
, have done?" Yusuf asked, himself that question
, now, and answered it: "Seek for the owner!"
Yes y find the owner: v That is what he must do.
He rose (a little slowly, it is true, because it was -
rfhard to give the camel up), and started up the street
Who had lost the purse? He didn't know, but it
seemed likely that it had been dropped by some one
of the caravan. He would seek there first,
, Before Yusuf could "come up with the caravan,
however, another actor appeared on the scene. This
was the Crier, a tall, venerable Turk with a flaming
turban and a flowing gown of figured India stuff.
He, carried a long statf, with which he struck the
ground at every step, the better to emphasize his
words. ' ' .
"Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear, ye I All honest
fieople," he cried. "The merchant Ebn-Aziz hath
ost a purse containing two hundred pieces of gold,.
He offers half as a reward to whomsoever shall re ,
turn it to him. Better the half with. honesty than'
Che whole with deceit! Hath any found a nurse a
purse containing two hundred pieces of gold."
Yusuf interrupted the Crier.
"I have found the purse," he said. He drew it
forth from his bosom. "Here it is."
"Follow me," said the Crier, "and Ebn-Aziz will ,
pay thee thy reward." .
A little crowd had gathered. Pushing his way
through these people, the Crier started up the street,
followed by Yusuf, the idlers trailing along behind.
Some, however, ran ahead, eager to carry the news
to Eon-Aziz. As he passed up the street Yusuf
heard his name utterea on all sides.
"Yusuf, the date seller, hath found the merchant
Ebn-Aziz's purse," cried one.
"He will receive a hundred pieces of gold," said
another.
"He is promised a hundred pieces," rejoined , a
third; "but if I know aught of the miser Ebn-Aziz.
he will die before he will part with a single gola
piece."
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addressing the Crier.
"A purse containing two hundred pieces of gold."
"Was no mention made of an emerald?"
"None. The purse alone was named."
"Ebn-Aziz," said the Cadi, "if thy purse contained
an emerald, as thou sayest, why didst thou not bid
the Crier cry that also?"
The crowd murmured approval at this question,
but the merchant was ready with an answer.
"Effendi," he said, "the emerald was of great size,
111 'ZZl!,
'PERHAPS THV EMERALD MAY BE FOUND,
Yusuf s heart sank at these words; but hope re
vived as one who had known his father called after
him: "Well done, Yusuf! thou art an honest lad. I
will go with thee and see that justice is done thee."
A walk of a few minutes brought them to the
bazaar of Ebn-Aiiz, who was indeed, as one of the
speakers bad said, a miserly fellow. He had learned
a few minutes before that his purse had been found,
and now he was cudgeling his evil brain for some
excuse by which he might escape paying the prom
ised reward. The sympathies of the crowd, however.,
were with the boy, Angry voices cried to the mer
chant! "Come, old money-grubber, here is thy
purse; now give the lad his due."
"Softly, softly," croaked the miser. "All in good
time, my friends. Let us first see that what was lost
is found." He extended his hand for the purse.
Yusuf handed it to him.
"Good!" said the merchant, as his fingers closed
upon the gold. He glanced sharply at Yusuf from
under his heavy brows. 'He is only a lad," thought
Ebn, "and poor. I shall have, no difficulty in dis
posing of him." He opened the purse. J
"Count out the money," cried the crowd. "Half
for thyself, and half for the boy."
The merchant thrust one bony hand into the purse
and rummaged around among the coins.
"Ah, miserable wretch!" he exclaimed, with
feigned emotion, "it is not herel Where is the
emerald, boy? The emeTaldl"
"The emerald?" faltered Yusuf
"Aye, the emerald!" shrieked Ebn, seizing him
roughly by the shoulder and shaking him. 'Think
not to deceive my by such clumsy pretense. Thou
returnest the gold, eh? i Oh. paragon of honesty I
But thou thinkest to keep the enierald, then my
precious emerald, that is worth ten times this paltry
purse. Oh. unfortunate that I ami My emerald!
My emerald! What hast thou done with it, thief
beggar?" Yusuf shook himself free, and faced the old man,
his eyes flashing.
"I am no thief," he cried, "and no beggarl I gave
back thy purse to thee a$ I found it; I did not even
open it. If it is thy mind to deny me the reward,
keep thy gold; I will have none of it!" He turned
on his heel.
"Go!" said Ebn, well satisfied with the success of
his scheme, "and be grateful to Allah that thou es
capest ao easily. I pardon thee for the sake of thy
dead father, whose name I would not see disgraced.
But the Crier laid detaining hand on the boy's
shoulder. "Stop!" he cried. Then, turning to the
merchant, he aaids ' What -thou wilt pardon and
what thou wilt not pardon is not for thee to say.
This matter hath gone beyond thee. If the boy is
honest he is entitled to tlje reward; if he be, as you
say, a thief, & a thief he must be punished. Come
both of ye with me before theCadi." -
"To the. Cadi ! echoed the crowd. "To the 'Cadi!"
Once arrived at the divan of the Cadi, the case
was soon stated. Yusuf told how be had found the
purser and how he had returned it unopened to Ebn
Asia. ' The merchant insisted that, besides the gold,
the purse had contained an emerald of srreat value.
"What wast thou bidden to cry?" said the. Cadi,
COPTKIQHT BY THE CCNTURY COMPANY '
and uncut. I hoped the finder of the purse might
prove ignorant of its value.)
Many would return the purse for half the gold it
contained. Had 1 proclaimed the value of the emer
ald, the chances of seeing it again would have been
less; and, besides. I should have been obliged to of
fer a greater reward."
"There speaks the miser' cried some one in the
crowd. Ebn-Azis smiled. He cared nothing for the
opinion of others, so long as his explanation was
believed and it was.
"Boy," said the Cadi, turning to Yusuf, "hast thou
this emerald?"
"No, Effendi. I know naught of the stone."
"Let him be searched," said the Cadi
Two men laid hold of Yusuf. and quickly ran
sacked his clothing. Then one seized his turban, and
with a quick motion unrolled it. The gold piece that
was tucked away in the Kning fell to the floor with
a ringing sound, to the amazement of the beholders.
"Aha!" cried Ebn-Aziz. "He hath taken toll of
the purse, then, and but a moment before he swote
he had not opened it." s
The case, for a moment, looked brighter for th:
merchant. t
"It is mine!" exclaimed Yasuf, passionately. "
"Thine." rejoined Ebn. "What hath a beggar to
do with gold? Doubtless thou wilt aay the emeralj
is thine also, directly."
This taunt had the effect the merchant intended
The crowd began to think that perhaps, after all
Ebn-Aziz was right. The Cadi, too, was frowning
on the boy. But the friend of Yusuf's father had
not forsaken him.
"Effendi," he said, "the boy speaks truly. '-1
myself gave him this gold piece but yeaterweek, ia,
exchange for coppers, that he might with more ease
and safety preserve his little hoard."
"Ebn-Aziz," said the Cadi, "how many gold pieces
bast thou in thy purse?"
"I I have not counted," faltered the merchant 'j
"Count them. Stayl Count ao that I may sea,
thee."
The merchant poured out the gold pieces before'
the Cadi, and began with trembling fingers to drop '
them back, one by one, into" the purse. There were'
two hundred not one missing!
The Cadi turned to one of the scribes who saB
near, and dictated an order which the scribe en
grossed on the roll. Then, at a sign from the Cadi,
the clerk rose, and, raising his hands to command
silence, cried in a loud voice:
"In the name of Allah! In the name of Allah!
In the name of Allah! Hear ye the judgment o
the most just Cadi in the matter concerning, tha
merchant Ebn-Aziz and the boy Yusuf."
The crowd pressed nearer to the divan. Ebn
Aziz glanced furtively at the Cadi, but his crafty
eyes could find no trace of favor or displeasure ia
the judge's impassive face. , 5
"Ebn-Aziz," said the Cadi, "listen attentively U
me; for my decision in this case resteth on thy
answer. Remember, too, that the reputation of this
fatherless lad is at stake, and Allah, who watcheth
over the orphan, hath said: 'Thou shalt not bear
false witness.' Therefore, bethink thee before thou
answerest. Art thou certain the purse thou lost
contained an emerald?"
"As Allah is my judge," answered Ebn, "I ans
certain." (
'Then, said the Cadi, "the matter is simple to de
c lr ' cannot doubt so solemn an assurance."
The merchant bowed low at these words, the
better to hide the exulting smile that distorted his
crafty countenance.
;But neither," continued the Cadi, in an even
voice, 'can I .doubt the word of the boy Yusuf,
whose reputation for truth and honesty hath been
established by many witnesses."
Ebn-Aziz straightened suddenly. The smile ha5
disappeared. 5 K , . T
"This, then, is my verdict," said the Cadi: ' "Since
tliy purse, tbn-Aziz, contained an ' emerald, and
since the purse that the boy Yusuf found contained
no emerald, it is clear that it was not thy purse
that the boy found Therefore, I command that
the purse be returned to the finder, Yusuf; and thee.
Ebn-Aztz, I would advise to have thy loss again
cried through the streets; perhaps thy emerald may
yet be found." '
JCVeek later a string of laden camels filed out of
the Gate of the Caravans and glided away into the
desert. And with them, went Yosuf, glad in the
fulfilment ot his dreams, as he strode proudlv be
side the handsomest camel (so Yusuf thought) in
the world.
6ED TIME m FAISY LAND