In one of those valleys which cut the chain of the mountains in Arabia, for a long time lived a rich . He was happy because he was , and his happiness consisted in doing good. One day, as he was walking on the enamelled borders of a purling stream, under the shade of a of palm-trees, which extended their branches even to the heads of the lofty with which the mountain was crowned, he heard a voice that frequently echoed into the valley the most piercing cries, and sometimes low murmuring plaints, which were lost in the noise of the .
The venerable pastor hastened to the place from whence the voice proceeded, when he saw a young man on the sand, at the foot of a rock. His garment was torn, and his hair, in wild confusion, covered his face, on which were easily to be traced the flowers of beauty, faded by grief: tears down his cheeks, and his head was sunk on his : he appeared like the rose which the rude blast of a storm had leveled to the earth. The pastor was touched at the sight: he approached the youth, and said to him, "O child of Grief! hasten to my arms. Let me press to my bosom the offspring of Despair!"
The youth lifted up his head in mournful silence; in he his eyes on the pastor; for he supposed no human being was capable of feeling for his sufferings. The sight of so venerable a figure inspired him with confidence, and he perceived in his eyes the tear of pity and100 the fire of . If to a generous soul it is pleasure to complain, and unfold the latent secrets of the heart, that pleasure surely must be heightened when we complain to those who will not shut their ears to the voice of truth, but will weigh every thing in the scale of reason, even though those truths may be disagreeable, and such as they wish to have no existence.
The youth rose up, covered with dust, and, as he flew to the arms of the pastor, uttered cries which the neighbouring mountains trebly echoed. "O my father!" said he: "O my father!" when he had a little recovered himself, after the tender embraces and the wise counsels of the old man who asked him many questions.
"It is," continued the unfortunate youth, "behind those lofty cedars, which you on those high mountains, it is there dwells Shel-Adar, the father of Fatima. The of my father is not far distant from thence. Fatima is the most beautiful damsel of all those in the mountains. I offered my service to Shel-Adar, to conduct one particular part of his flock, and he granted me my request. The father of Fatima is rich; mine is poor. I fell in love with Fatima, and she fell in love with me. Her father perceived it, and I was ordered to retire from the quarter in which lived every thing that was dear to my heart.
"I Shel-Adar, in the most terms, to permit me to attend his far-distant flocks, where I could have no opportunity to speak to the object of my soul. My
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