Then the old man, taking the iron candlestick and the earthen jar, led the way up the stairway again. There the young man lowered the iron trap-door to its place, and so soon as he had done so the other stamped his heel upon the ground, and the earth closed of itself as smooth and level as it had been before. The two sat themselves upon the carpet, the one upon the one end, and the other upon the other. “By the horn of Jacob,” said the old man, “I command thee, O Carpet! to fly over hill and valley, over lake and river, until thou hast brought us back whence we came.” Away flew the carpet, and in a little time they were back in the garden from which they had started upon their journey; and there they parted company. “Go thy way, young man,” said the old graybeard, “and henceforth try to live more wisely than thou hast done heretofore. I know well who thou art, and how thou hast lived. Shun thy evil companions, live soberly, and thou hast enough to make thee rich for as long as thou livest.” “Have no fear,” cried the young man, joyfully. “I have learned a bitter lesson, and henceforth I will live wisely and well.” So, filled with good resolves, the young man went the next day to his creditors and paid his debts; he bought back the house which his father had left him, and there began to lead a new life as he had promised. But a gray goose does not become white, nor a foolish man a wise one. At first he led a life sober enough; but by little and little he began to take up with his old-time friends again, and by-and-by the money went flying as merrily as ever, only this time he was twenty times richer than he had been before, and he spent his money twenty times as fast. Every day there was feasting and drinking going on in his house, and roaring and rioting and dancing and singing. The wealth of a king could not keep up such a life forever, so by the end of a year and a half the last of the treasure was gone, and the young spendthrift was just as poor as ever. Then once again his friends left him as they had done before, and all that he could do was to rap his head and curse his folly. At last, one morning, he plucked up courage to go to the old man who had helped him once before, to see whether he would not help him again. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and who should open it but the old man himself. “Well,” said the graybeard, “what do you want?” “I want some help,” said the spendthrift; and then he told him all, and the old man listened and stroked his beard. [Illustration] “By rights,” said he, when the young man had ended, “I should leave you alone in your folly; for it is plain to see that nothing can cure you of it. Nevertheless, as you helped me once, and as I have more than I shall need, I will share what I have with you. Come in and shut the door.”