Second, what a young person commits to memory remains, whereas what an older person learns is soon forgotten. For that reason the common proverb says, “Knowledge gained in youth is like an inscription carved in stone—it does not fade.”

A third advantage is that when a youth is trained in knowledge from the very outset, that knowledge becomes second nature to him, part of his disposition, almost an instinct with which he grows up and upon which he is reared.

The magician in this story was an elderly sorcerer who had lived long, experienced much, and come to know many things. He therefore asked the king to choose a young boy whom he could teach the art of magic. The king sent him a lad, and the sorcerer taught him what he knew. Yet Allah, Exalted be He, had willed something far better for that boy.

One day the boy passed by a monk and listened to him. He was impressed by the monk’s words, for the monk—meaning a devoted worshipper—was a servant of Allah who spoke only good. He may well have been a scholar, but devotion dominated him, so he was called by what was most evident of his monastic practice. From that day on, whenever the boy left his house he would sit with the monk, and as a result he arrived late to the magician. The magician would beat him, demanding, “Why are you late?”

The boy complained to the monk, seeking a way out. The monk advised him, “When you go to the magician and fear that he will punish you, say, ‘My family detained me.’ And when you return home and are late because of the monk, say, ‘The magician delayed me.’ In this way you will escape blame from both sides.”

The monk—Allah knows best—gave him that advice even though it involved lying, perhaps deeming that the benefit outweighed the harm of the lie, and it is also possible that he had a valid legal justification for it.