A rich merchant of Bagdad had a son that he loved most tenderly. The child had been reared with the utmost care, and no pains were spared to cultivate his mind as well as his affections. When the young man's education was almost completed his father determined that he should travel in foreign parts.

"My son," said the old man, "I have gray hairs and a white beard, and in my long career it has been given to me to know and appreciate the real value of men and things. You must learn, then, my son, that among the pressing necessities of life the greatest of all is a good friend. Riches take wings—a touch of providence, a turn of the wheel of fortune, throws the richest into the depths of despair; but death alone, which carries all off, can take away a friend.

"A true friend is the only thing in this world that is always faithful. Find this rare pearl, my son, and you will have found the rarest of gems. I want you, then, my son, to travel over the world, travel alone gives the real experience. The more we see of men the better we know how to live among them. The world is a great and a beautiful book, that instructs those who know how to read it. It is a faithful mirror that reflects all the objects we ought to see.

"Go, my son," said the merchant of Bagdad; "take this travelling-stick, and in your journeyings think, above all other things, of the necessity of securing a true friend. In pursuing this object, sacrifice everything else, even what is most rare and most precious."

The young man embraced his father and took his departure. He went to a foreign country and remained there some time, and then he returned to his own country. When he arrived, his father, astonished at his quick return, said:

"I did not expect you so soon."

"You told me to seek a friend," said the young man. "Well, I have returned with fifty who are all that you have described."

"My poor child!" responded the old merchant, "do not speak so flippantly of so sacred a name. A true friend is so rare that he cannot be found in droves, and those who pretend to be such are only so in name. They resemble a summer-cloud that melts beneath the first rays of the sun."

"Father!" exclaimed the young man, "your attack is unjust, and those that I look upon as my friends—those whom I regard as my friends—would not see me suffering or in adversity unless their hearts went out to me."

"I have lived seventy years," responded the old man, "and I have been tried by good and bad fortune. I have known a great many men, and during these long years it has been well-nigh impossible for me to acquire a friend. How, at your age, and in such a short time, have you been able to find fifty friends? Learn from me, my son, to know human nature."

The old merchant strangled a sheep, put the carcass in a sack, and stained his son's clothing with the blood of the animal. At night the young man was told what he must do, and he took the carcass of the sheep on his shoulder and went out of the city.

Soon he arrived at the house of his first friend, and knocked at the door, which was promptly opened to him. His friend asked him what he wanted.

"It is in the midst of misfortune that friendship is put to a trial," responded the young man. "I have often told you of an old feud that has existed between our family and that of a lord of the court. Not long ago we met in a secluded spot. Hatred placed arms in our hands, and he fell lifeless at my feet. For fear of being pursued by justice I seized his body; it is in the sack you see on my shoulders. I beg you to hide it in your house until this affair has blown over."

"My house is so small," said the friend, with an air of sorrow and embarrassment, "that it can scarcely contain the living who dwell in it. How could I find room for the dead?"

The young man begged his friend to have pity on him, but without avail, and the ungrateful man shut the door in his face.

"You see, my son," said the old merchant, "these are the kind of friends on whom you were depending."

"To tell you the truth, father," said the young man, "I have always suspected that this particular friend was a hypocrite, but all are not so. Wait, and you shall see."

The younger man continued to knock at the doors of his friends. Fifty times he met with the same reception. No one wanted to do him the kindness to hide the body.

"My son," said the old merchant, "you must see at last how little you can depend on man. What has become of the friends whom you were praising to me a little while ago? In your supposed misfortune each one has forsaken you. I will show you the difference between the one real friend that I have and the fifty false ones whom you have tested."

As they talked, the father and son reached the door of the house of the one whom the old merchant had represented as the model of perfect friendship. The merchant related to his friend the imaginary misfortunes that had befallen his son, and begged the friend to hide the compromising sack.

"Oh, happy day and blessed hour!" exclaimed the faithful friend. "My house is large, and herein you may hide whatever you choose."

"Think," said the young man, "of the great dangers to which you expose yourself! Who knows but you may be accused of the murder, or, at least, of favoring the assassin."

"Well," said the other, smiling, "one must expose one's self to many perils when one desires to save the son of a friend. Go to my summer residence, where you will be safe from the clutches of the law. I will come to you from time to time, and keep you company, and if ever misfortune happens to you it will likewise fall on me."

At this the merchant of Bagdad opened his arms and pressed to his heart the devoted friend, thanking him for his generous offers, and relating to him the simple artifice by which he had taught his son how rare true friendship is in this world.