Mohammed nodded assent. "Rightly guessed, mother! To him I shall go and ask him how to begin to become a rich man. Let me do so at once, my heart is burning to ask this question."

He seized his red cap, pulled it over his brown hair, took leave of his mother, hurried into the street, and out of the poverty-stricken little suburb, toward the main thoroughfare, where the wealthy lived. He walked on, reflecting profoundly over what his mother had related, and without noticing the boys who were coming toward him. When they perceived him, they stepped aside as if ashamed to meet the boy who had excelled and conquered them, slipped into the next house, closed the door which extended only half-way up the doorway behind them, and looked out over it.

"Only look at him!" they cried, derisively. "He is good for nothing. He can do nothing. What is he to become but a beggar? Who will pity him when his uncle is dead, and his mother sick and bedridden? Then he will have to serve us, and pay us tribute."

They continued to laugh at him, but he walked on quietly. Their malicious words had not escaped him, but he took no notice of them. Proudly and composedly he walked on, murmuring to himself in a low voice: "They shall pay for this some day! They too are my enemies, on whom I intend to be avenged, fearfully avenged!"

These thoughts were still expressed in his features as he entered the great store of the merchant Lion. Hastily he threaded his way down the narrow path that lay between the bales and barrels, toward the light that shone at the end. There stood the merchant's office. Now he hears a kindly voice welcoming him.

"Behold the hero of Imbro, the daring conqueror of the sea! Welcome my hero, welcome!"

He stood still, listening to these tones, a happy smile over- spreading his countenance. How beautiful it is to be thus welcomed! To be sure, as yet it is only a friendly greeting, and half in mockery, but this greeting shall one day resound from the throats of whole nations, and not in mockery. Shall they hail him, "Welcome, thou hero!" This he swears shall be, as he steps up to Mr. Lion, who extends both hands to him over his counter, and regards him tenderly.

"Here again, my Mohammed! They have been speaking of you all day, and three men have already been here to tell of your heroic deed. Let me see your hands. Yes, they are torn and bleeding. Yes, my boy, I have rejoiced with you, and am proud with you for having put those boys to shame."

"I thank you, sir," said he, earnestly; "yet it is not enough to conquer boys; one must also conquer men and nations!"

Mr. Lion regarded him with wonder. "What is this you are saying? What are you busying your brain with now?"

"With many things, sir; I desire you to help me provide for my future."

"I am delighted, Mohammed," said the merchant, regarding him with a friendly smile, "I am delighted to see you thoughtful of your future. I have often scolded your mother about you; you are tall and sensible for your age, are almost a young man, and it would become you to be taking care of yourself. But both your mother and your Uncle Toussoun are spoiling you in their anxiety to strew your pathway with rose-leaves, and guard you from every hardship."

"They would," said the boy, shrugging his shoulders, "if I allowed them, but I will not! I will bare my face to the storm, and walk on thorns instead of rose-leaves, in order that my feet may become hardened. Therefore, tell me, dear sir, what I am to do to provide for my future."

"That is hard to tell," replied Lion, with a sigh. "For every thing a certain something is necessary, which you, unfortunately, do not possess."

"And what is this something? " asked the boy, hastily

"Money," replied the merchant. "It is not enough to pray to Allah, and to receive into one's soul the precepts of the Koran; one must also use one's hands industriously, and learn the precepts of worldly wisdom, and the very first of these is, 'Have money, and you can obtain all else.'"

"I will have money, that I may obtain all else!" exclaimed Mohammed; "only tell me how to procure it."

"That is just where the difficulty lies, you foolish boy," said the merchant, stroking his brown hair gently. "Those who rob and plunder make it much easier for themselves in the world, and I have known many a one to begin his career as a robber who, subsequently, ruled over men as a grand pacha. Yet I am confident that it is not in this manner you wish to acquire riches, but as an honest man."

"Yes, as an honest man! I desire to gain honor, magnificence, and wealth, by the power of my will and my intellect."

"Honor, magnificence, and wealth?" repeated Mr. Lion. "These are grand words, my boy! It will be very difficult to accomplish so much, and I can render you no assistance in doing so, yet I will take you into my business and try to make a merchant of you, if you wish it."

"Merchant!" repeated the boy, thoughtfully. "I have nothing that I could sell."

"Yet you can sell yourself. Do not look at me so angrily! I do not mean that you should sell yourself as a slave, but do business with your head, your work, and your good-will. Help me to wait on my customers, to sell goods, and to praise them with pleasing manners, and I will furnish you with food and clothing, and pay you monthly wages besides, which you can give to your mother."

"I should have to stand behind the counter, and play the amiable to people, as I have seen you do?"

"Yes, my son, that you would have to do."

"I should have to listen quietly to the gossips, spread out before them the carpets, turbans, and Persian shawls; and, as I have seen you do, cover the spots with my hands and praise the goods, and then hear them scold, and bargain, and cheapen?"

"Really, you will make a good merchant; I see you have learned a great deal already."

"I should, when the women stroll in and seat themselves at the counter, have to wait on them humbly with coffee, and beg them to do us the honor? Should have to hear them talk about their domestic affairs, their cats, and their dogs, and appear to be delighted with the sweetness of their voices, and the lustre of their eyes?"

"By your prophet, you are a finished merchant, and will make a splendid salesman!"

"No, I shall not!" cried the boy. "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. I will first do great deeds before I tell of them. Not until I have grown old shall the men and women assemble around me; then they shall hear of my deeds. But to tell of the deeds of others only, would give me no pleasure. I see nothing is left me but to become a soldier. Yes, a soldier."

"I, too, believe that would be the best thing for you," said Mr. Lion, with a kindly nod of the head. "But then you must wait until you are larger and stronger, for they do not make soldiers of boys, and you are still a boy. At ten years of age one is not yet a man, my little hero. But at fifteen you will be a youth, and then you will be accepted as a soldier. And I prophesy for you a great and brilliant career as such. Until then, however, I promise to help your mother to take care of you, and, if I can serve you in any way, come to me, for you know I love you, and will gladly do what I can for you."

"Until then I will be the general of the boys of Cavalla, and they shall all bow down to me, and pay me tribute."

CHAPTER III

BOYISH DREAMS.

Since that day a great change had taken place in Mohammed Ali. He was graver and more silent, and participated less in the games of the boys. He no longer laughed and jested as he had formerly done, but he was all the more busily occupied with his gun, inherited from his father, exercising himself in shooting, and almost always hitting his mark. He also strengthened his limbs by fencing with his old uncle, who had formerly been a soldier, or by throwing himself into the sea, to struggle with the waves and allow himself to be buffeted about by them for hours. The boy prepared himself to become a man, and he did so with his whole soul, and with the whole