Schemseddin Mohammed then went back to his daughter’s apartment, still more astonished than before, and quite uncertain how to think or act, “Well, dishonoured girl,” said he to his daughter, “can you give me no farther account of this adventure, which both confuses and distracts me?”--“Sir,” she replied, “I cannot tell you any thing more than I have already had the honor of informing you of. But look here,” she added, “here is some part of my husband’s dress, which he has left on this chair, and perhaps this may throw some light upon what you wish to discover.” In saying this, she presented the turban of Bedreddin to the vizier, who took and examined it in every part. “I should conjecture this to be a turban that belonged to a vizier, if it were not made in the fashion of those [16] of Moussoul.” As he was thus feeling it, he thought he perceived something sewn up in the inside of it between the folds. He asked therefore for some scissors, and having unripped it, he discovered a paper folded up. This was in fact the packet which Noureddin Ali had given to his son Bedreddin, on his death-bed, and who had concealed it in this place, as the best method of preserving it. Schemseddin Mohammed having opened the packet, instantly knew the hand-writing of his brother Noureddin Ali, and read the following direction, _For my son, Bedreddin Hassan._ Before he had time to reflect on those circumstances, his daughter put the purse into her father’s hands, which she had found in Bedreddin’s pocket. He immediately opened it, and saw it filled with sequins, as I have before mentioned; for through the care of the Genius and fairy it constantly remained full, in spite of all the sums that Bedreddin had bestowed on those around him. Upon a sort of ticket, attached to the purse, he read these words; _a thousand sequins belonging to the Jew Isaac_. And under them the following, which the Jew had written before he had left Bedreddin: _Delivered to Bedreddin Hassan, in payment for the cargo which he has sold me of the first vessel that arrives in port belonging to him; and which did belong to Noureddin Ali, his father, of happy memory._ He had scarcely finished reading these words, when he uttered a loud cry, and fainted away.