[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

ABOU BEN ADHEM was called upon one day
by a person who desired to apply the suction-pump
to him. The man — for it was a male person—
had with him a bright-faced, intelligent boy of
perhaps six summers, who was restless and impatient,
as such boys are likely to be. The lad broke loose
from his father, and ran to chase a butterfly that was
lazily disporting itself in the warm air, when the
father, with tender solicitude, said to him, —

“Schuyler Colfax, remain with your parent! You
might slip up and soil your pants, my child.”

As the father spoke these words, an expression of
pain flitted over the countenance of the sage.

“Your name is Thompson?”

“It is.”

“And your che-ild's name is Schuyler Colfax
Thompson?”

“It is.”

“Alas! poor child.”

“Why do you sigh and say `Alas! poor child'?”

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“Because Schuyler Colfax is not yet dead, and
a grateful country has not, as yet, bedewed his untimely
grave with tears. That 's why I sigh for that
sweet child. Listen.

“I was once a sweet child myself, — the pride of a
loving father and of a darling mother. When I was
born Agha Ilderim was the vast artillery of the province.
He was a member of the Council, he was the
great orator, and, in short, the coming man. My
father was a warm supporter of the great Agha Ilderim:
he was on his committees at elections, and he
attended all his meetings, and rallied his voters to
the polls, and brought in the aged and infirm voters,
and was as enthusiastic a supporter of the great man
as he could wished to have had. And it was purely
disinterested too. True, the fact that my father had
been appointed, by Agha, inspector of rat-terriers
for that district, was urged by his enemies as a reason
for his zeal; but it was a slander.

“When I was born Agha Ilderim was at the zenith
of his power, and my father, the moment the sex of
the child was ascertained, threw up his turban and
named it Agha Ilderim, and Agha gave me a silver
cup and patted me on the head, and predicted a glorious
future for me.

“But alas! when I was five years old there came
a trouble upon Agha Ilderim. There was a road
that was being built by the government and there
was a huge swindle in it. The Shah investigated it,
and lo! it was discovered that Agha had had his
arms in it elbow-deep, and once opened, it was

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discovered that this patriot had been speculating and
stealing in every possible way, for years. And he
was disgraced of course, and defeated for the Council,
and became of nought among men, and his name
became a hissing and by-word, and in his stead rose
Nadir el Abin, who took Agha's place and became
the great man of the province.

“My father became a great admirer of Nadir, and,
as he was continued in his office, did for Nadir what
he had done for Agha. Filled with indignation at
the dishonesty of Agha, he melted the silver cup he
had given me, and sold it, and spent the proceeds in
strong waters, and immediately changed my name to
Nadir el Abin, and was happy.

“But lo! in about four years the Governor of the
province desired to get through the Council a measure
which the people did not approve of, because it
took away their liberties. The members of the Council
were implored to stand firm against the usurpation,
and Nadir was looked upon as one of the most
trustworthy; but, to the indignation of the people,
he voted with the Governor, and carried the measure,
and when they hooted at him he put his finger to his
nose, for the Governor made him Collector of Revenue
for life.

Then was my father's rage kindled against Nadir,
and he came home and said to my mother, —

“`Lo! Nadir's name is a stench in the nostrils of
the people. Be chesm, it will never do for our child
to bear the name of Nadir.'

“And as Akbar, the scribe, vaulted into Nadir's

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place in the affections of the people, my name was
forthwith changed to Akbar.

“Akbar ran well for a season, but he went under.
A patent for tipping chibouques was before the Council
for extension, and the people murmured at it, for it
offended them. The owners of the patent, however,
cared nothing for that. They appeared to the members
of the Council with arguments, in bags, and Akbar
was possessed of many bags immediately after he
had voted to extend the patent, and the people hooted
him and threw mud at him in the market-place.

“As a matter of course it would not do for me to
continue to bear the name of Akbar, and it was
changed to that of Hafiz, and when he went under, to
Katah, which I kept till Katah succumbed because
he voted himself back-pay and was concerned in a
ring for building a road.

“Then my father and mother held a council over
me one morning.

“`I have tried,” said my paternal parent, “to give
our child an honorable name.'

“`Verily,' returned my mother.

“`But whenever I gave him the name of a great
man, that man suddenly deceased, that is, politically.'

“`He did,' said my mother; `it is fate.'

“`What shall we do?' asked my father. `The
child must have a name, and it seems to be risky to
give him the name of any one living. Advise me,
O my wife!'

“`Let the great men go, for lo! such is the
construction of the human mind, that greatness is as

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uncertain as railroad stocks. Let us call him
Abou.'

“And they did it. Abou, my friend, is a name
which, in Persia, is as common as John is in New
Jersey.

“And now comes the point. Change that boy's
name from Schuyler Colfax to plain James, John, or
Thomas. Never name a child after any living greatness.
If you must name him after a great man, take
a dead one, and select a very dead one. Go to your
books and roust out a deceased statesman. Avoid
your recent ones. Go back and find one who has
been dead so long that all his vices and peccadilloes
have been obliterated by the hand of time, and only
his virtues remembered. I would advise you not to
fasten on any one who has flourished since the Roman
Empire. It will not answer to take a living man,
for his balance-sheet is not made up till he has gone
hence. A gone-hencer is safe, and no one else is.
Imagine the feelings of that parent who, just after
the battle of Saratoga, in your Revolution, named
his innocent child Benedict Arnold! The hero of
Saratoga may always become the traitor of West
Point. To bring it down to a later date, what is to
become of the thousands of children who, between
the years 1860 and 1867, were named A. Johnson?

“My friend, for names go among the dead men.
Their lives are closed and their balances are struck.
A man dead, with worms at him, and under several
tons of marble monument, cannot possibly get up
and blast a fair reputation. So long as a man lives

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he is in danger. Folly, and greed, and ambition
surround every man who lives. I have to fight them
off myself.

“Change the name of your child to Thomas at
once. And go, for I am weary.”

p632-144

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