Aladdin, who was now no longer restrained by the fear of a father, and who cared so little for his mother, that whenever she chid him he would fly in her face, gave himself entirely over to dissipation, and was never out of the streets from his companions. This course he followed till he was fifteen years old, without giving his mind to any thing whatever, or the least reflection on what would become of him. In this situation, as he was one day playing according to custom, in the street, with his vagabond troop, a stranger passing by stood still to observe him. This stranger was a famous magician, called by the writer of this story the African Magician; and by that name I shall call him with the more propriety, as he was a native of Africa, and had been but two days come from thence. Whether the African magician, who was a good physiognomist, had observed in Aladdin’s countenance something which was absolutely necessary for the execution of the design he came about, he inquired artfully about his family, who he was, and what were his inclinations; and when he had learned all he desired to know, he went up to him, and taking him aside from his comrades, said to him, “Child, was not your father called Mustapha the tailor?”—“Yes, sir,” answered Aladdin, “but he has been dead a long time.” At these words, the African magician threw his arms about Aladdin’s neck, and kissed him several times with tears in his eyes. Aladdin, who observed his tears, asked him, What made him weep? “Alas! my son,” cried the African magician, with a sigh, “how can I forbear? I am your uncle; your good father was my own brother. I have been a great many years abroad travelling, and now I am come home with the hopes of seeing him, you tell me he is dead. I assure you it is a sensible grief to me to be deprived of the comfort I expected. But it is some relief to my affection, that as far as I can remember him, I knew you at first sight, you are so like him; and I see I am not deceived.” Then he asked Aladdin, putting his hand into his purse, where his mother lived; and as soon as Aladdin had informed him, he gave him a handful of small money, saying to him, “Go, my son, to your mother, give my love to her, and tell her that I will come and see her to-morrow, if I have time, that I may have the satisfaction of seeing where my good brother lived so long, and ended his days.”