Gilbert Go-Ahead Returned Our young readers will remember that, in page 173, volume 29, of the Museum, the Adventures of Gilbert Go-Ahead were suddenly broken off, by an unlucky fall of the traveller. We have the pleasure here to pick him up, and carry him to his journey's end. But, we have still greater pleasure in announcing to all the Merry family, that the said Gilbert has published his travels complete, in one beautiful volume, and that any of them can get the whole, by sending to the book stores and buying it, or by procuring subscribers to the Museum, as named in our prospectus. The book contains many curious adventures not published in the Museum. It is embellished with very fine pictures, one of which we have been permitted to place on our first page. Every body ought to have it. Derby and Jackson, 115 Nassau street, New York, are the publishers. OW long I remained in this situation, I can hardly tell. At length, however, I recovered my senses, and began to look around me. My dromedary was standing at a little distance, but, with this exception, the whole caravan seemed to have disappeared. As I proceeded toward my beast, I discovered a heap of sand, gathered by the tempest, which had just swept by and sticking out of it, I noticed the corner of a robe, richly embroidered. I laid hold of it, and soon discovered, beneath the heap of earth, the body of a man-one of the traders of the caravan, whom I had frequently no ticed on our journey. Putting my hand on his chest, I perceived that he still breathed. I raised him up, and, after a He few moments, his eyes opened. looked around. At first he took me for a robber, but soon discovering his mistake, he made signs for me to stoop down and listen. Putting my ear close to his lips, I heard a few whispered sentences, but in a language totally unknown to me. Seeming to suppose I understood him, however, the poor man put his trembling hand into his robe, and drew forth a parcel, which he gave to me. He then, with great effort, took a ring from his finger, and gave it to me. After this he was completely exhausted, and, uttering a faint moan, he fell back in my armshis eyes forever closed in death. I buried him mournfully in the sand, mounted my camel, and two days after, joined the caravan. Immediately on arriving at Teheran, I proceeded to my employer, who, however, received me with a look of astonishment. I easily guessed the reason, for I had been shorn like Samson, and the change in my appearance, through the loss of a beard more than a foot long was, no doubt, very striking. I gave an account of my stewardship, and paid over the proceeds of my enterprise. The merchant took the money, and counting out my portion, which amounted to three hundred and seventy dollars, wrote mutual receipts, and we signed them. odd world of ours. However, there's He then said :— “Well, sir, you have discharged your commission with success and fidelity. Farewell!" "But," said I,-"this is strange conduct on your part: you engaged me for several expeditions, provided I was successful." "Yes, but circumstances have changed: you have lost your chief merit." Indeed, and what was that?" "Your beard." "You are joking." "Not at all: I never stoop to a joke. I look upon a beard as indispensable to a man who is to live by exercising influence over other men." "" How so?" It "A beard is a mask to the mind. hides what a man thinks, feels, intends, purposes. Strip off the mask, and the whole soul is laid open by the revelations of the playing muscles-the tell-tale ebbing and flowing of the blood within the veins. A man without a beard is a woman, whose very thoughts are written in the face. I want not women in my service, for mine is not woman's work. If you would thrive, conceal your own, while you dive into the thoughts of others. The great art of life, indeed, in commerce with mankind, whatever may be our vocation, is to wear a mask, and God has given it to man in the shape of a beard. He who takes it off is a fool." no use kicking against the pricks." So I went to my quarters, and began to consider my ways. While I was meditating upon the past, the present, and the future, I suddenly recollected the parcel which had been given me by the poor man who died in the desert. I looked it over and over, and tried to interpret the inscription. It was a small thin packet, tied with a silken thread, the outer envelope being of parchment. I opened it, and found five strips of thin bluish paper, written over with the same mysterious characters as those on the covering. Then I recollected the ring, which I had thrust into a side pocket, and taking it out, I carefully examined it. It was of plain gold on the outside, but on looking within the circle, here again I found an inscription in the same characters as those in the packet. After considerable reflection, I concluded to go back and take counsel of the Armenian. He refused to see me at first; when he was informed that I had important business with him, he received me. I proceeded at once to tell him the story of the stranger, and the commission he had confided to me. As I went on, I perceived, even through the mask of the Armenian's beard, that he was profoundly interested; bearing, however, a stoical indifference of demeanor, he asked several questions, and finally requested me to show him the parcel and the ring. I took them out, and let him Saying this, the Armenian turned on read the inscriptions, though I carefully kept possession of both. his heel, and I was left alone. "Well," thought I,-" this is a very With a keen and stealthy lifting of You have asked my advice: will you follow it, if I give it to you?" "If it suits me, yes." "Less than ever. I had formed a good opinion of you, from your story of Luke Gozzo and his seven sons. You told me that you had all made your fortunes by following your mother's maxim: "Tell me one thing: do you confide Do the best you can, and trust God for in me?" "As a sharp merchant, certainly. But you have a beard and I have none. We do not stand on an equal footing: you are masked. Now, you will excuse me for being upon my guard." "The loss of his hair was the ruin of the strongest of men: the loss of yours seems to have quickened your wits. I see that I must deal with you as a man, not as a woman. Give me those papers and that ring, and I will reward you with a hundred piasters." "No, no-not for a hundred thousand will I give them up, till I know what they are, and whose they are." "They belong to me, they are mine!" "Not quite,"—and as I said this I gave the Armenian a keen look, put the articles in my pocket, and turned toward the door. He followed me. "Come, come," said he, in a wheedling way, "let us take counsel together. Walk into my cabinet, and we will consider the matter." "No, you've too much beard for me!" As I said this, the Armenian put his fingers to the back of his head, and suddenly his entire beard fell off, showing a chin shaven as smooth as the back of my hand. "You are a conjurer," said I. "Will you treat with me, now?" said he. the rest. It now seems that you are only a cunning, crafty, deceitful, old rascal." "Cunning, crafty, deceitful, I admit. These qualities are, indeed, my boast. It is by using these gifts that I do the best I can: it is in using these gifts which God has given me, that I put my trust in him." "And do you speak this sincerely, or in mockery?" "In perfect sincerity." "Does your idea of right and wrong tolerate this life of deception and fraud?" "Certainly; my morals, my religion inculcate these things." "Then you are a Turk!" "Whew! Is it possible that Christianity can mean such different things in different latitudes and longitudes." "I am no philosopher: I care not for creeds: I am simply an Armenian merchant, whose doctrine is, always do the best he can. Now, I have dealt openly with you; will you deal openly with me?” "You have only told me half your story," said I. "Tell me what interest have you in this ring-in these papers!" "I will tell you frankly. When I was young, I borrowed a thousand piasters of a Jew, in Damascus, agreeing to double the amount every year till the whole was paid. I signed those papers, and gave that ring, both in the secret cypher of our trade, so as to avoid the penalty of the law; for such usury was punished with death. From that day, I have never been able to find my creditor. It is now thirteen years, and the debt, according to the terms of my bond, would amount to over four millions of piasters." "This is a strange story: how can you prove it to be true ?" "Here is the evidence;" and the merchant showed me copies of letters, to and from his brother at Damascus, relating to this matter, and clearly proving it to be as he said. "Well; so far I am satisfied. But, of course, you do not hold yourself bound to pay such an absurd debt." Certainly; to the utmost farthing, if I have so much in the world." 'But, I thought you said it was your maxim to use craft and deception when you had a chance." 66 Yes, in the way of trade; but a debt is binding forever." "Well; here is the money." The Armenian here handed me ou ten little bags full of gold. I hesitated; for, after all, I was not quite sure that I was doing right. Several questions began to rise in my own mind. I, however, handed the parcel and the ring to the merchant, and, taking up the gold was about to depart. The Armenian was absorbed in looking over the notes, when suddenly he started. "Stay," said he: "Here is a fatal mistake!" "What is it?" said I. Why, all these notes are cancelled: here it is so written on the face of each! This has been done by the Jew, and he was coming to deliver them to me himself." "I am glad of it," said I; "it's a very pretty romance all round. Here, take back your money. I had some doubts about receiving it; my conscience is lighter now." The Armenian looked at me steadily. A variety of thoughts seemed to pass But, this debt is against the law; across his mind. At last, he said :— you can set it aside ?" "A debt is sacred with an Armenian merchant; nothing but the bond itself can redeem it." "No! Keep it-it is yours!" "As a gift?" 'No; as payment of a debt. You have taught me a lesson of rectitude "And so you desire to possess your- which is worth ten thousand piasters. self of these obligations." Take the money, and-farewell!” Having said this, the Armenian left the room, and I saw him no more. This is the end of the adventures of Gilbert Go-ahead. It is understood that he has returned to Sandy Plain, where he is looked upon as a great traveller. |