||There once lived a poor tailor,
who had a son called Aladdin,
|| a careless, idle boy who would
do nothing but play all day long in the streets with little idle boys
||This so grieved the father that
he died; yet, in spite of his mother's tears and prayers,
||Aladdin did not mend his ways.
||One day, when he was playing in
the streets as usual, a stranger asked him his age, and if he was not
the son of Mustapha the tailor.
|| "I am, sir," replied Aladdin;
"but he died a long while ago."
||On this the stranger, who was a
famous African magician, fell on his neck and kissed him saying:
|| "I am your uncle, and knew you
from your likeness to my brother.
||Go to your mother and tell her I
||Aladdin ran home and told his
mother of his newly found uncle.