{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17435/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17435","id":"gutenberg_17435","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17435","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Historical Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Muhammad, Prophet, -632 -- Fiction"],"text":"E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Amy Cunningham, and the\nProject Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n(https://www.pgdp.net/)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 17435-h.htm or 17435-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/4/3/17435/17435-h/17435-h.htm)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/4/3/17435/17435-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE DAYS OF MOHAMMED.\n\nby\n\nANNA MAY WILSON.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nDavid C. Cook Publishing Company,\nElgin, Ill., and 36 Washington St., Chicago.\nCopyright, 1897, by David C. Cook Publishing Company.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nIn \"The Days of Mohammed,\" one aim of the author has been to bring out\nthe fact that it is possible to begin the heaven-life on earth. It is\nhoped that a few helpful thoughts as to the means of attaining this life\nmay be exemplified in the career of the various characters depicted.\n\nAn attempt has been made, by constant reference to the best works on\nMohammed and Arabia, to render the historical basis strictly correct.\nEspecial indebtedness is acknowledged to the writings of Irving, Burton,\nand the Rev. Geo. Bush; also to the travels of Burckhardt, Joseph Pitts,\nLudovico Bartema and Giovanni Finati, each of whom undertook a\npilgrimage to the cities of Medina and Mecca; also to the excellent\nsynopsis of the life and times of Mohammed as given by Prof. Max Mueller\nin the introduction to Palmer's translation of the Koran.\n\nAs the tiny pebble cast into the water sends its circling wavelets to\nthe distant shore, so this little book is cast forth upon the world, in\nthe hope that it may exert some influence in bringing hope and comfort\nto some weary heart, and that, in helping someone to attain a clearer\nconception of Divine love and companionship, it may, if in never so\ninsignificant a degree, perhaps help on to that time when all shall\n\n    \"Trust the Hand of Light will lead the people,\n    Till the thunders pass, the spectres vanish,\n    And the Light is Victor, and the darkness\n    Dawns into the Jubilee of the Ages.\"\n\n\n\n\nPRECEDING EVENTS--SUMMARY.\n\n\nYusuf, a Guebre priest, a man of intensely religious temperament, and\none of those whose duty it is to keep alive the sacred fire of the\nPersian temple, has long sought for a more heart-satisfying religion\nthan that afforded to him by the doctrines of his country. Though a man\nof kindliest disposition, yet so benighted he is that, led on by a deep\nstudy of the mysteries of Magian and Sabaean rites, he has been induced\nto offer, in human sacrifice, Imri, the little granddaughter of Ama, an\naged Persian woman, and daughter of an Arab, Uzza, who, though married\nto a Persian, lives at Oman with his wife, and knows nothing of the\nsacrifice until it is over.\n\nThe death of the child, though beneath his own hand, immediately strikes\nhorror to the heart of the priest. His whole soul revolts against the\ninhumanity of the act, which has not brought to him or Ama the blessing\nhe had hoped for, and he rebels against the religion which has, though\never so rarely, permitted the exercise of such an atrocious rite. He\nbecomes more than ever dissatisfied with the vagueness of his belief. He\ncannot find the rest which he desires; the Zendavesta of Zoroaster can\nno longer satisfy his heart's longing; his country-people are sunk in\nidolatry, and, instead of worshiping the God of whom the priests have a\nvague conception, persist in bowing down before the symbols themselves,\ndiscerning naught but the objects--the sun, moon, stars, fire--light,\nall in all.\n\nYusuf, indeed, has a clearer idea of God; but he worships him from afar\noff, and looks upon him as a God of wrath and judgment rather than as\nthe Father of love and mercy. In his new spiritual agitation he\nconceives the idea of a closer relation with the Lord of the universe;\nhis whole soul calls out for a vivid realization of God, and he casts\nabout for light in his trouble.\n\nFrom a passing stranger, traveling in Persia--a descendant of those\nSabaean Persians who at an early age obtained a footing in Arabia,\nand whose influence was, for a time, so strongly marked through\nthe whole district known as the Nejd, and even down into Yemen,\nArabia-Felix,--Yusuf has learned of a new and strange religion held by\nthe people of the great peninsula. His whole being calls for relief from\nthe doubts which harass him. He is rich and he decides to proceed at\nonce towards the west and to search the world, if necessary,--not, as\ndid Sir Galahad and the knights of King Arthur's Table, in quest of the\nHoly Grail, but in search of the scarcely less effulgent radiance of the\nbeams of Truth and Love.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DAYS OF MOHAMMED.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nYUSUF BEGINS HIS SEARCH FOR TRUTH.\n\n    \"O when shall all my wanderings end,\n    And all my steps to Thee-ward tend!\"\n\n\n\"Peace, oh peace! that thy light wings might now rest upon me! Truth,\nthat thou mightest shine in upon my soul, making all light where now is\ndarkness! Ye spirits that dwell in yon bright orbs far above me, ye that\nalone are privileged to bow before the Great Creator of the universe, ye\nthat alone may address yourselves to the Great Omnipotent Spirit with\nimpunity, intercede for me, I beseech you! Bow before that Great\nSovereign of all wisdom and light, whom we worship through these vague\nsymbols of fire and brightness; plead with him before whom I dare not\ncome, in my behalf. Beseech of him, if he will condescend to notice his\nmost humble priest, that he may lead him into light effulgent, into all\ntruth, and that he may clear from his soul these vapors of doubt which\nnow press upon him in blackest gloom and rack his soul with torment. If\nI sin in doubting thus, beseech him to forgive me and to lead me to a\nconception of him as he is. Ye that are his ministers, from your starry\nspheres guide me! Whether through darkness, thorns, or stony ways, guide\nme; I shall not falter if I may see the light at last! Oh, grant me\npeace!\"\n\nThus prayed Yusuf, the Magian priest. He paused. No sound passed from\nhis lips, but he still stood with upraised arms, gazing into the intense\ndepths of the Persian sky, purple, and flecked with golden stars, the\n\"forget-me-nots of the angels.\"\n\nHis priestly vestments were dazzlingly white, and upon his shoulders\nwere fixed two snowy wings that swept downward to the ground. His black\nbeard descended far over his breast, and from the eyes above shone forth\nthe glow of a soul yearning towards the infinite unknown, whose all is\nGod.\n\nBehind him, near the altar of the rounded tower,--round in the\nsimilitude of the orbs of light, the sun, moon, and stars,--danced the\nsacred fire, whose flames were said to have burned unceasingly for\nnearly one thousand years. The fiery wreaths leaped upwards toward the\nsame purple sky, as if pointing with long, red fingers, in mockery of\nthe priest's devotion; and the ruddy glare, falling upon him as he\nstood so still there, enveloped him with a halo of light. It gleamed\nupon his head, upon his uplifted hands, upon the curves of the wings on\nhis shoulders, silhouetting him against the darkness, and lighting his\nwhite habiliments until, all motionless as he was, he seemed like a\nmarble statue dazzlingly radiant in the light of one crimson gleam from\na sinking sun.\n\nAnd so he stood, heeding it not, till the moon rose, soft and full; the\nmountain-tops shone with a rim of silver, the valleys far below the\ntemple looked deeper in the shade, and the fire burned low.\n\nRapt and more rapt grew the face of the priest. Surely the struggle of\nhis soul was being answered, and in his nearness to Nature, he was\ngetting a faint, far-off gleam of the true nature of Nature's God. His\nglance fell to the changing landscape below; his arms were extended as\nif in benediction; and his lips moved in a low and passionate farewell\nto his native land. Then he turned.\n\nThe fire burned low on the altar.\n\n\"Sacred symbol, whose beams have no power to warm my chilled heart, I\nbid you a long farewell! They will say that Yusuf is faithless, a false\npriest. They will mayhap follow him to slay him. And they will bow again\nto yon image, and defile thine altars again with infants' blood, not\ndiscerning the true God. Yet he must be approachable. I feel it! I know\nit! O Great Spirit, reveal Thyself unto Yusuf! Reveal Thyself unto\nPersia! Great Spirit, guide me!\"\n\nFor the first time, Yusuf thus addressed a prayer direct to the Deity,\nand he did so in fear and trembling.\n\nA faint gleam shone feebly amid the ashes of the now blackening altar.\nIt flared up for an instant, then fell, and the sacred fire of the\nGuebre temple was dead.\n\n\"The embers die!\" cried the priest. \"Yea, mockery of the Divine, die in\nthine ashes!\"\n\nHe waited no longer, but strode with swift step down the mountain, and\ninto the shade of the valley. Reaching, at last, a cave in the side of a\ngreat rock, he entered, and stripped himself of his priestly garments.\nThen, drawing from a recess the garb of an ordinary traveler, he dressed\nhimself quickly, rolled his white robes into a ball, and plunged farther\ninto the cave. In the darkness the rush of falling water warned him that\nan abyss was near. Dropping on his knees, he crept carefully forward\nuntil his hand rested on the jagged edge of a ledge of rock. Beside him\nthe water fell into a yawning gulf. Darkness darker than blackest night\nwas about him, and, in its cover, he cast the robes into the abyss\nbelow, then retraced his way, and plunged once more into the moonlight,\na Persian traveler wearing the customary loose trousers, a kufiyah on\nhis head, and bearing a long staff in his hand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nA BEDOUIN ENCAMPMENT.\n\n      \"The cares that infest the day\n    Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,\n      And as silently steal away.\"\n\n                              --_Longfellow._\n\n\nMany months after the departure of Yusuf from Persia a solitary rider on\na swift dromedary reached the extreme northern boundary of El Hejaz, the\nprovince that stretches over a considerable portion of western Arabia.\nHis face was brown like leather from exposure, and his clothes were worn\nand travel-stained, yet it scarcely required a second glance to\nrecognize the glittering eyes of the Magian priest.\n\nIt seemed as if the excitement of danger and the long days of toil and\nprivation had at last begun to tell upon his iron frame. His eye,\naccustomed by the fear of robbers to dart its dark glances restlessly,\nwas less keen than usual; his head was drooped downward upon his breast,\nand his whole attitude betokened bodily fatigue. His camel, too, went\nless swiftly, and picked its way, with low, plaintive moans, over the\nrough and precipitous path which led into a wild and weird glen.\n\nIt was evening, and the shadows fell in fantastic streaks and blotches\nacross the arid valley, through whose barren soil huge, detached rocks\nof various-colored sandstone rose in eerie, irregular masses, veritable\ncastles of genii of the uncanny spot.\n\nYusuf looked uneasily around, but neither sight nor sound of life was\nnear, and he again allowed his faithful beast to slacken its pace and\ncrop a few leaves of the coarse camel-thorn, the only sign of vegetation\nin the deserted place.\n\nA few trees, however, could be seen in the distance, and he urged his\ncamel towards them in the hope of finding some water, and some dates for\nfood. Reaching the spot, he found that a stagnant pool lay below, but\nthere were no dates on the trees, and the water was brackish. A couple\nof red-legged partridges fluttered off, cackling loudly as they went. He\nwould fain have had them for food, but their presence seemed like\ncompany to the poor wanderer, and he did not attempt to secure them; so,\nthrowing himself at full length on the ground, he flung his arms across\nhis eyes to shield them from the white glare of the sky.\n\nSuddenly a step sounded near. Yusuf started to his feet and grasped his\nscimitar, but he was instantly beset by half a dozen wild Arabs, who\ndashed upon him, screaming their wild Arabian jargon, and waving their\nshort swords over their heads.\n\nBlows fell thick and fast. Yusuf had a dazed consciousness of seeing the\nswarthy, wrinkled visages and gleaming teeth of his opponents darting in\nconfusion before him, of hacking desperately, and of receiving blows on\nthe head; then a sudden gush of blood from a wound on his forehead\nblinded him, and he fell.\n\nAll seemed over. But a shout sounded close at hand. Several Arabs,\nsplendidly mounted on nimble Arabian horses, and waving their long,\ntufted spears, appeared on the scene. The Bedouin robbers fled\nprecipitately, and Yusuf's first sensation was that of being gently\nraised, and of feeling water from the pool dashed upon his face.\n\nThe priest had not been severely wounded, and soon recovered enough to\nproceed with the party which had rendered him such timely aid.\n\nAn hour's ride brought them to the head of another and more fertile glen\nor wady, through which a mountain stream wended its way between two\nbands of tolerably good pasturage. A full moon in all its brilliancy was\njust rising. Its cold, clear light flooded the wady, bringing out every\nfeature of the landscape with remarkable distinctness. At some distance\nlay a group of tents, black, and pitched in a circle, as the tents of\nthe Bedouins usually are. Camp-fires studded the valley with glints of\nred; and the barking of dogs and shouts of men arose on the night air\nabove the hoarse moanings of the camels. Yusuf was indeed glad to see\nevidences of Arab civilization, and to look forward to the prospect of a\ngood supper and a friendly bed.\n\nThe return of the party was now noticed by the men of the encampment. A\ngroup of horsemen, also armed with long spears tufted with ostrich\nfeathers, left the tents and came riding swiftly and gracefully towards\ntheir returning companions.\n\nAn explanation of Yusuf's sorrowful plight was given, and he was\nconducted to the tent of the Sheikh, which was marked by being larger\nthan the rest, and situated in the center of the circle, with a spear\nplaced upright in the ground before the door.\n\nThe Sheikh himself received the stranger at the door of his tent. He was\na middle-aged man, of tall and commanding appearance, though the scowl\nhabitual to the Bedouins by reason of their constant exposure to the\nsun, rested upon his face. He wore a kufiyah, or kerchief, of red and\nyellow on his head, the ends falling on his shoulders behind in a\ncrimson fringe. His hair was black and greased, and his eyes, though\npiercing, were not unkindly. His person was thin and muscular, but he\nwore gracefully the long abba or outer cloak, white and embroidered,\nwhich opened in front, disclosing an undergarment of figured muslin,\nbound by a crimson sash. And there was native grace in every movement\nwhen he came courteously forward and saluted Yusuf with the \"Peace be\nwith you\" of the Arabs. He then extended his hand to help the traveler\nto dismount, and led him into the tent.\n\n\"Friend,\" he said, \"a long journey and a close acquaintance with death\nare, methinks, a good preparation for the enjoyment of Bedouin\nhospitality, which, we sincerely hope, shall not be lacking in the tents\nof Musa. Yet, in truth, it seems to us that thou art a fool-hardy man to\ntempt the dangers of El Hejaz single-handed.\"\n\n\"So it has proved,\" returned the priest; \"but a Persian, no more than an\nArab, will draw back at the first scent of danger. Yet I deplore these\ndelays, which but hinder me on my way. I had hoped long ere this to be\nat the end of my journey.\"\n\n\"We will hear all this later,\" returned the Bedouin with quiet dignity;\n\"for the present, suffice it to keep quiet and let us wash this blood\nfrom your hair. Hither, Aswan! Bring warm water, knave, and let the\ntraveler know that the Arab's heart is warm too. Now, friend-stranger,\nrest upon these cushions, and talk later, if it please you.\"\n\nWith little enough reluctance, Yusuf lay down upon the pile of rugs and\ncushions, and, while the attendants bathed his brow, looked somewhat\ncuriously about him.\n\n[Illustration: He stood with upraised arms, gazing into the depths of\nthe sky.--See page 2.]\n\nBy the light of a dim lamp and a torch or two, he could see that the\ntent was divided into two parts, as are all Bedouin tents, by a central\ncurtain. This curtain was occasionally twitched aside far enough to\nreveal a pair of black eyes, and, from the softness of the voices which\nsounded from time to time behind the folds, he surmised correctly that\nthis apartment belonged to the chief's women.\n\nSeveral men entered the tent, all swarthy, lithe and sinewy, with the\nscowling faces and even, white teeth characteristic of the typical Arab.\nThey gesticulated constantly as they talked; but Yusuf, though\nthoroughly familiar with the Arabic language, paid little attention to\nthe conversation, giving himself up to what seemed to him, after his\nadventures, perfect rest.\n\nPresently the chief's wife entered. She was unveiled, and her features\nwere distinctly Hebrew; for Lois, wife of the Bedouin Musa, had been\nborn a Jewess. She was dressed in a flowing robe of black confined by a\ncrimson girdle. Strings of coins and of blue opaque beads hung upon her\nbreast and were wound about her ankles, and she wore a black head-dress\nalso profusely decorated with beads and bangles of silver.\n\nOn a platter she carried some cakes, still smoking hot. These she placed\non a low, circular table of copper. A wooden platter of boiled mutton\nwas next added, along with a caldron filled with wheat boiled in camel's\nmilk, and some cups of coffee.\n\nYusuf was placed at the table, and Musa, after sipping a little coffee,\nhanded the cup to him; the chief then picked out the most savory bits of\nmutton, and, according to Arabian etiquette, handed them to his guest.\n\nSeveral men gathered around to partake of the banquet. They crouched or\nreclined on the ground, about the low table; yet, savage-looking though\nthey were, not one of the Bedouins ventured an inquisitive question or\nbestowed a curious glance on the Persian.\n\nAmong them, however, was a little, inquisitive-looking man, whose quick,\nbird-like movements attracted Yusuf's attention early in the evening.\nHis round black eyes darted into every place and upon every one with an\ninsatiable curiosity, and he talked almost incessantly. He was a Jewish\npeddler who traded small wares with the Arabs, and who was constantly\nsomewhere on the road between Syria and Yemen, being liable to appear\nsuddenly at the most mysterious times, and in the most unlikely places.\n\nIn his way, Abraham of Joppa was a character, and one may be pardoned\nfor bestowing more than a passing glance upon him. Though permitted to\neat at the table with the rest, it was evident that the Arabs looked\nupon him with some contempt. They enjoyed listening to his stories, and\nto his recital of the news which he picked up in his travels, but they\ndespised his inquisitiveness, and resented the impertinence with which\nhe coolly addressed himself even to the Sheikh, before whom all were\nmore or less reserved.\n\nThe Persian was, for the present, the chief object of the little Jew's\ncuriosity, and as soon as the meal was over he hastened to form his\nacquaintance.\n\nSitting down before the priest, and poising his head on one side, he\nobserved:\n\n\"You are bound for the south, stranger?\"\n\n\"Even so,\" said Yusuf, gravely.\n\n\"Whither?\"\n\n\"I seek for the city of the great temple.\"\n\n\"Phut! The Caaba!\" exclaimed the Jew, with contempt. \"Right well I know\nit, and a fool's game they make of it, with their running, and bowing,\nand kissing a bit of stone in the wall as though 'twere the dearest\nfriend on earth!\"\n\n\"But they worship--\"\n\n\"A statue of our father Abraham, and one of Ishmael, principally. A\nprecious set of idolaters they all are, to be sure!\"\n\nYusuf's heart sank. Was it only for this that he had come his long and\nweary way, had braved the heat of day and the untold dangers of night?\nIn searching for that pure essence, the spiritual, that he craved, had\nhe left the idolatrous leaven at home only to come to another form of it\nin Mecca?\n\n\"But then,\" he thought, \"this foolish Jew knows not whereof he speaks:\none with the empty brain and the loose tongue of this wanderer has not\nprobed the depths of divine truth.\"\n\n\"You cannot be going to Mecca as a pilgrim?\" hazarded the little man.\n\"The Magians and the Sabaeans worship the stars, do they not?\"\n\n\"Alas, yes!\" said the priest. \"They have fallen away from the ancient\nbelief. They worship even the stars themselves, and have set up images\nto them, no longer perceiving the Great Invisible, the Infinite, who can\nbe approached only through the mediation of the spirits who inhabit the\nstarry orbs.\"\n\n\"Methinks you will find little better in Mecca. What are you going there\nfor?\" asked the Jew abruptly.\n\n\"I seek Truth,\" replied the priest quietly.\n\n\"Truth!\" repeated the Jew. \"Aye, aye, the Persian traveler seeks truth;\nAbraham, the Jew, seeks myrrh, aloes, sweet perfumes of Yemen, silks of\nIndia, and purple of Tyre. Aye, so it is, and I think Abraham's\ncommodity is the more obtainable and the more practical of the two. Yet\nthey do say there are Jews who have sought for truth likewise; and they\ntell of apostles who gave up their trade and fisheries to go on a like\nquest after a leader whom many Jews will not accept.\"\n\n\"Who were the apostles?\"\n\n\"Oh, Jews, of course.\"\n\n\"Where may I find them?\"\n\n\"All dead, well-nigh six hundred years ago,\" returned the Jew,\nindifferently.\n\nYusuf's hopes sank again. He longed for even one kindred spirit to whom\nhe could unfold the thoughts that harassed him.\n\n\"I do not know much about what they taught,\" continued the Jew. \"Never\nread it; it does not help in my business. But I got a bit of manuscript\nthe other day from Sergius, an old Nestorian monk away up in the Syrian\nhills. I am taking it down to Mecca. I just peeped into it, but did not\nread it; because it is the people who live now, who have gold and silver\nfor Abraham, that interest him, not those who died centuries ago; and\nthe bit of writing is about such. However, you seem to be interested\nthat way, so I will give it to you to read.\"\n\nSo saying, the Jew unpacked a heavy bundle, and, after searching for\nsome time, upsetting tawdry jewelry, kerchiefs, and boxes of perfume,\nhe at last succeeded in finding the parchment.\n\nHe handed it to the Persian. \"I hope it may be of use to you, stranger.\nAbraham the Jew knows little and cares less for religion, but he would\nbe sorry to see you bowing with yon heathen Arab herd at Mecca.\"\n\n\"Dog! Son of a dog!\"\n\nIt was Musa. Able to restrain his passion no longer, he had sprung to\nhis feet and stood, with flashing eyes and drawn scimitar, in resentment\nof the slur on his countrymen.\n\nWith a howl of fear, the little Jew sprang through the door and\ndisappeared in the darkness.\n\nMusa laughed contemptuously.\n\n\"Ha, lack-brained cur!\" he said, \"I would not have hurt him, having\nbroken bread with him in mine own tent! Yet, friend Persian, one cannot\nhear one's own people, and one's own temple, the temple of his fathers,\ndesecrated by the tongue of a lack-brained Jew trinket-vender.\"\n\n\"You know, then, of this Caaba--of the God they worship there?\" asked\nthe priest.\n\nMusa shook his head, and made a gesture of denial.\n\n\"Musa knows little of such things,\" he replied. \"Yet the Caaba is a name\nsacred in Arabian tradition, and as such, it suits me ill to hear it on\nthe tongue of a craven-hearted Jew. In sooth, the coward knave has left\nhis trumpery bundle all open as it is. I warrant me he will come back\nfor it in good time.\"\n\nA dark-haired lad in a striped silk garment here passed through the\ntent.\n\n\"Hither, Kedar!\" called the Sheikh. \"Recite for our visitor the story of\nMoses.\"\n\nThe lad at once began the story, reciting it in a sort of chant, and\naccompanying his words with many a gesture. The company listened\nbreathlessly, now giving vent to deep groans as the persecution of the\nchildren of Israel was described, now bowing their heads in reverence at\nthe revelation of the burning bush, now waving their arms in excitement\nand starting forward with flashing eyes as the lad pictured the passage\nof the Red Sea.\n\nYusuf had heard some vague account of the story before, but, with the\npassionate nature of the Oriental, he was strangely moved as he listened\nto the recital of how that great God whom he longed to feel and know had\nled the children of Israel through all their wanderings and sufferings\nto the promised land. He felt that he too was indeed a wanderer, seeking\nthe promised land. He was but an infant in the true things of the\nSpirit. Like many another who longs vainly for a revelation of the\nworking of the Holy Spirit, his soul seemed to reach out hopelessly.\n\nBut who can tell how tenderly the same All-wise Creator treasures up\nevery outreaching of the struggling soul! Not one throb of the loving\nand longing heart is lost;--and Yusuf was yet, after trial, to rejoice\nin the serene fullness of such light as may fall upon this terrestrial\nside of death's dividing line.\n\nPoor Yusuf, with all his Persian learning and wisdom, had, through all\nhis life, known only a religion tinctured with idolatry. Almost alone he\nhad broken from that idolatry, and realized the unity of God and his\nseparation from all connected with such worship; but he was yet to\nunderstand the connection of God with man, and to taste the fullness of\nGod's love through Christ. He had not realized that the finger of God is\nupon the life of every man who is willing to yield himself to Divine\ndirection, and that there is thus an inseparable link between the\nCreator and the creature. He was not able to say, as said Carlyle in\nthese later days, \"A divine decree or eternal regulation of the universe\nthere verily is, in regard to every conceivable procedure and affair of\nman; faithfully following this, said procedure or affair will\nprosper.... Not following this,... destruction and wreck are certain for\nevery affair.\" And what could be better? Divine love, not divine wrath,\nover all! Yusuf had an idea of divine wrath, but he failed to\nsee--because the presentation of the never-failing Fatherhood of God had\nnot yet come--the infinite love that makes Jesus all in all to us,\nheaven wherever he is, and hell wherever he is not.\n\nSince leaving Persia, this was the first definite opportunity he had had\nof listening to Bible truth.\n\n\"Kedar knows more of this than his father,\" explained Musa. \"'Tis his\nmother who teaches him. She was a Jewess, of the people of Jesus of\nNazareth, but I fear this roving life has caused my poor Lois to forget\nmuch of the teaching of her people.\"\n\n\"You speak of Jesus of Nazareth. I have heard something of him. Tell me\nmore.\"\n\nMusa shook his head slowly. \"I know nothing,\" he said. \"But I shall call\nLois. The men have all gone from the tent, and mayhap she can tell what\nyou want.\"\n\nSo saying, he entered the women's apartment, and sent his wife to Yusuf.\n\n\"You wish to know of Jesus of Nazareth?\" she said. \"Alas, I am but a\npoor teacher. I am unworthy even to speak his name. I married when but a\nchild, and since then I have wandered far from him, for there have been\nfew to teach me. Yet I know that he was in very truth the Son of God. He\nwas all-good. He healed the sick on this earth, and forgave sin. Then,\nwoe, woe to me!--he was crucified,--crucified by my people! And he went\nup to heaven; his disciples saw him go up in the white clouds of a\nbright day.\"\n\n\"Where dwells he now? Is he one of the spirits of the stars?\"\n\n\"I know not. He is in heaven.\"\n\n\"And does he stoop to take notice of us, the children of earth?\"\n\n\"Alas, I know not! There was once a time when Jesus was more than a name\nto me. When I knelt, a child, beside my mother on the grassy hills of\nHebron, it seemed that Jesus was, in some vague way, a reality to me;\nbut long years of forgetfulness have passed since then. Stranger, I wish\nyou well. Your words have brought back to me the desire to know more of\nhim. If you learn aught of him, and it ever lies in your way to do so,\ncome and tell us,--my Musa and me,--that we too may learn of him.\"\n\nRising to her feet, the woman saluted the Persian and left him. Musa\nentered to conduct him to the rugs set apart for his couch, and soon\nall was silent about the encampment.\n\nBut ere he fell asleep, Yusuf went out into the moonlight. The night was\nfilled with the peculiar lightness of an Oriental night. The moon blazed\ndown like a globe of molten silver, and a few large stars glowed with\nscarcely secondary brilliance. In the silvery brightness he could easily\nread the manuscript given him by the Jew. It was the story of the man\nwith the withered hand, whose infirmity was healed by Jesus in the\nsynagogue. And there, in the starlight, the priest bowed his head, and a\nthrong of pent-up emotions throbbed in his breast.\n\n\"Spirits of the stars, show me God. If this Jesus be indeed the Son of\nGod, show me him. Give me faith, such faith as had he of the withered\nhand, that I too may stretch forth my hand and be made whole; that I may\nlook, and in looking, see.\"\n\nThis was his prayer. Ah, yet, the \"spirits of the stars\" were as a\nbridge to the gulf which, he fancied, lay between him and Infinite\nMercy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nYUSUF MEETS AMZI, THE MECCAN.\n\n    \"Mecca's pilgrims, confident of Fate,\n    And resolute in heart.\"\n\n                              --_Longfellow._\n\n\nThe next morning, Yusuf, against the remonstrances of Musa and his wife,\nprepared to proceed on his way. Like the Ancient Mariner, he felt forced\nto go on, \"to pass like night from land to land,\" until he obtained that\nwhich he sought.\n\nWhen he was almost ready to depart, a horseman came galloping down the\nvalley, with the news that a caravan, en route for Mecca, was almost in\nsight, and would make a brief halt near the stream by which Musa's\ntents were pitched. Yusuf at once determined to avail himself of the\ntimely protection on his journey.\n\nPresently the caravan appeared, a long, irregular line--camels bearing\n\"shugdufs,\" or covered litters; swift dromedaries, mounted by tawny\nArabs whose long Indian shawls were twisted about their heads and fell\nin fringed ends upon their backs; fiery Arabian horses, ridden by Arabs\nswaying long spears or lances in their hands; heavily-laden pack-mules,\nwhose leaders walked beside them, urging them on with sticks, and giving\nvent to shrill cries as they went; and lastly a line of pilgrims, some\ntrudging along wearily, some riding miserable beasts, whose ribs shone\nthrough their roughened hides, while others rode, in the proud security\nof ease and affluence, in comfortable litters, or upon animals whose\nsleek and well-fed appearance comported with the self-satisfied air of\ntheir riders.\n\nA halt was called, and immediately all was confusion. Tents were\nhurriedly thrown up; the pack-mules were unburdened for a moment; the\nhorses, scenting the water, began to neigh and sniff the air; infants,\nwho had been crammed into saddle-bags with their heads out, were hauled\nfrom their close quarters; the horsemen of Musa, still balancing their\ntufted spears, dashed in and out; while his herdsmen, anxious to keep\nthe flocks from mixing with the caravan, shrieked and gesticulated,\nhurrying the flocks of sheep off in noisy confusion, and urging the\nherds of dromedaries on with their short, hooked sticks. It was indeed a\nbabel, in which Yusuf had no part; and he once more seized the\nopportunity of looking at the precious parchment To his astonishment, he\nperceived that it was addressed to \"Mohammed, son of Abdallah, son of\nAbdal Motalleb, Mecca,\" with the subscription, \"From Sergius the Monk,\nBosra.\"\n\nHere then, Yusuf had, in perfect innocence, been entrapped into reading\na communication addressed to some one else, and he smiled sarcastically\nas he thought of the inquisitiveness of the little Jew who had taken the\nliberty of \"just peeping in.\"\n\nIt remained, now, for Yusuf to find the Jew and to put him again in\npossession of his charge. He searched for him through the motley crowd,\nbut in vain; then, recollecting that the peddler's bundle had been left\nbehind, he sought Musa, to see if he had heard anything of the little\nbusybody.\n\nMusa laughed heartily. \"Remember you not that I said his trumpery would\nbe gone in the morning? I was no false prophet. The man is like a\nweasel. When all sleep he finds his way in and helps himself to what he\nwill: when all wake, no Jew is to be seen; trumpery and all have gone,\nno one knows whither.\"\n\nSo the priest found himself responsible for the delivery of the\nmanuscript to this Mohammed, of whom he had never hitherto heard; and,\nknowing the contents, he was none the less ready to carry out the trust,\nhoping to find in Mohammed some one who could tell him more of the same\nwondrous story. He therefore placed the parchment very carefully within\nthe folds of his garment, bade farewell to Musa and his household, and\nprepared to leave with the caravan, which had halted but a short time on\naccount of the remarkable coolness of the day.\n\n\"Peace be with you!\" said the Sheikh; \"and if you ever need a friend,\nmay it be Musa's lot to stand in good stead to you. I bid you good speed\non your journey. We have no fears for your safety now, besides the\nsafety of numbers, the holy month of Ramadhan[1] begins to-day, and even\nthe wildest of the Bedouin robbers usually refrain from taking life in\nthe holy months. Again, Peace be with you! And remember that the Bedouin\ncan be a friend.\"\n\nYusuf embraced the chieftain with gratitude, and took his place in the\ntrain, which was already moving slowly down the wady.\n\nAs it often happens that in the most numerous concourse of people one\nfeels most lonely, so it was now with Yusuf. There seemed none with whom\nhe cared to speak. Most of the people were self-satisfied traders\nbusied with the care of the merchandise which they were taking down to\ndispose of at the great fair carried on during the Ramadhan. A few were\nArabs of the Hejaz, short and well-knit, wearing loose garments of blue,\ndrawn back at the arms enough to show the muscles standing out like\nwhip-cords. Some were smoking short chibouques, with stems of wood and\nbowls of soft steatite colored a yellowish red. As they rode they used\nno stirrups, but crossed their legs before and beneath the pommel of the\nsaddle; while, as the sun shone more hotly, they bent their heads and\ndrew their kufiyahs far over their brows. Many poor and somewhat\nfanatical pilgrims were interspersed among the crowd, and here and there\na dervish, with his large, bag-sleeved robe of brown wool--the Zaabut,\nworn alike by dervish and peasant--held his way undisturbed.\n\nYusuf soon ceased to pay any attention to his surroundings, and sat,\nburied in his own thoughts, until a voice, pleasant and like the ripple\nof a brook, aroused him.\n\n\"What thoughts better than the thoughts of a Persian? None. Friend,\nthink you not so?\"\n\nThe words were spoken in the Persian dialect, and the priest looked up\nin surprise, to see a ruddy-faced man smiling down upon him from the\nback of a tall, white Syrian camel. He wore the jubbeh, or cloak, the\nbadge of the learned in the Orient; his beard was turning slightly gray,\nand his eyes were keen and twinkling.\n\n\"One question mayhap demands another,\" returned Yusuf. \"How knew you\nthat I am a Persian? I no longer wear Persian garb.\"\n\n\"What! Ask an Arab such a question as that!\" said the other, smiling.\n\"Know you not, Persian, that we of the desert lands are accustomed to\ntrace by a mark in the sand, the breaking of a camel-thorn, things as\ndifficult? The stamp of one's country cannot be thrown off with one's\nclothes. Nay, more; you have been noted as one learned among the\nPersians.\"\n\nYusuf bent his head in assent. \"Truly, stranger, your penetration is\nincomprehensible,\" he said, with a touch of sarcasm.\n\n\"No, no!\" returned the other, good-humoredly; \"but, marking you out for\nwhat you are, I thought your company might, perchance, lessen the\ndreariness of the way. I am Amzi, the Meccan. Some call me Amzi the rich\nMeccan; others, Amzi the learned; others, Amzi the benevolent. For\nmyself, I pretend nothing, aspire to nothing but to know all that may be\nknown, to live a life of ease, at peace with all men, and to help the\nneedy or unfortunate where I may. More than one stranger has not been\nsorry for meeting Amzi the benevolent, in Mecca. Have you friends\nthere?\"\n\n\"None,\" said Yusuf. \"Yet there is a tradition among our people that the\nGuebres at one time had temples even in the land of Arabia. Have you\nheard aught of it?\"\n\n\"It is said that at one time fire-temples were scattered throughout this\nland, each being dedicated to the worship of a planet; that at Medina[2]\nitself was one dedicated to the worship of the moon and containing an\nimage of it. It is also claimed that the fire-worshipers held Mecca, and\nthere worshiped Saturn and the moon, from whence comes their name of the\nplace--Mahgah, or moon's place. The Guebres also hold here that the\nBlack Stone is an emblem of Saturn, left in the Caaba by the Persian\nMahabad and his successors long ago. But, friend, Persian influence has\nlong since ceased in El Hejaz. Methinks you will find but few traces of\nyour country-people's glory there.\"\n\n\"It matters not,\" returned the priest. \"The glory of the fire-worshipers\nhas, so far as Yusuf is concerned, passed away. Know you not that before\nhis eyes the sacred fire,[3] kept alive for well-nigh one thousand\nyears, went out in the supreme temple ere he left it? May the great\nOmniscient Spirit grant that Persia's idolatries will die out in its\nashes!\"\n\n\"And think you that there is no idolatry in Mecca? Friend, believe me,\nnot a house in Arabian Mecca which does not contain its idol! Not a man\nof influence who will start on an expedition without beseeching his\nfamily gods for blessing!\"\n\n\"And do they not recognize a God over all?\"\n\n\"They acknowledge Allah as the highest, the universal power,--yet he is\nvirtually but a nominal deity, for they deem that none can enter into\nspecial relationship with him save through the mediation of the\nhousehold gods. In his name the holiest oaths are sworn, nevertheless in\ntrue worship he has the last place. Indeed, it must be confessed that\nneither fear of Allah nor reverence of the gods has much influence over\nthe mass of our people.\"\n\n\"What, then, is the meaning of this great pilgrimage, whose fame reached\nme even in Persia? Does not religious enthusiasm lead those poor\nwretches, hobbling along behind, to take such a journey?\"\n\nAmzi nodded his head slowly. \"Religious incentives may move the few,\" he\nsaid. \"But, friend, can you not see that barter is the leading object of\nthe greater number--of those well-to-do pilgrims who are superintending\nthe carriage of their baggage so complacently there? The holy months,\nparticularly the Ramadhan, afford a period of comparative safety, a long\ntruce that affords a convenient season for traffic. Alas, poor stranger!\nyou will be sad to find that our city, in the time of the holy fast,\nbecomes a place of buying and selling, of vice and robbery--a place\nwhere gain is all and God is almost unknown.\"\n\n\"But you, Amzi; what do you believe of such things?\"\n\n\"In truth, I know not what to think. Believe in idols I cannot; worship\nin the Caaba I will not; so that my religion is but a belief in Allah,\nwhom I fear to approach, and whose help and influence I know not how to\nobtain, a confidence in my own morality, and a consciousness of doing\ngood works.\"\n\n\"Strange, strange!\" said the priest, \"that we have arrived at somewhat\nthe same place by different ways! Amzi, let us be brothers in the quest!\nLet us rest neither night nor day until we have found the way to the\nSupreme God! Amzi, I want to feel him, to know him, as I am persuaded he\nmay be known; yet, like you, I fear to approach him. Have you heard of\nJesus?\"\n\n\"A few among a band of coward Jews who live in the Jewish quarter of\nMecca, believe in One whom they call Jesus. The majority of them do not\naccept him as divine; and among those who do, he seems to be little more\nthan a name of some one who lived and died as did Abraham and Ishmael.\nHis teaching, if, indeed, he taught aught, seems to have little effect\nupon their lives. They live no better than others, and, indeed, they are\nslurred upon by all true Meccans as cowardly dogs, perjurers and\nusurers.\"\n\nYusuf sighed deeply. It seemed as though he were following a flitting\nignis-fatuus, that eluded him just as he came in sight of it.\n\nThe rest of the day was passed in comparative silence. The evening halt\nwas called, and it was decided to spend the night in a grassy basin,\ntraversed by the rocky bed of a mountain stream, a \"fiumara,\" down which\na feeble brooklet from recent mountain rains trickled. Owing to the\nsecurity of the month Ramadhan, it was deemed that a night halt would be\nsafe, and the whole caravan encamped on the spot.\n\nAs the shades of the rapidly-falling Eastern twilight drew on, Yusuf sat\nidly near the door of a tent, looking out listlessly, and listening to\nthe chatter of the people about him.\n\nNot far off a Jewish boy, a mere child, of one of the northern tribes,\nas shown by his fair hair and blue eyes, sang plaintively a song of the\nsinging of birds and the humming of bees, of the flowers of the North,\nof rippling streams, of the miraged desert, of the waving of the\ntamarisk and the scent of roses.\n\nYusuf observed the child-like form and the effeminate paleness of the\ncherub face, and a feeling of protective pity throbbed in his bosom as\nhe noted the slender smallness of the hand that glided over the\none-stringed guitar, showing by its movements, even in the fading\nevening light, the blue veins that coursed beneath the transparent skin.\nHe called the lad to his side, and bade him sing to him. Not till then\ndid he notice the vacancy of the look which bespoke a slightly wandering\nmind. Yusuf's great heart filled with sympathy.\n\n\"Poor lad!\" he said, \"singing all alone! Where are your friends?\"\n\n\"Dumah's friends?\" said the child, wonderingly. \"Poor Dumah has no\nfriends now! He goes here and there, and people are kind to him--because\nDumah sings, you know, and only angels sing. He tells them of flocks\nbeside the pool, of lilies of Siloam, of birds in the air and angels in\nthe heavens--then everyone is kind. Ah! the world is fair!\" he\ncontinued, with a happy smile. \"The breeze blows hot here, sometimes,\nbut so cool over the sea; and the lilies blow in the vales of Galilee,\nand the waves ripple bright over the sea where he once walked.\"\n\n\"Who, child?\"\n\n\"Jesus--don't you know?\" with a wondering look. \"He sat often by the\nLake of Galilee where I have sat, and the night winds lifted his hair as\nthey do mine, and he smiled and healed poor suffering and sinful people.\nAh, he did indeed! Poor Dumah is talking sense now, good stranger;\nsometimes he does not--the thoughts come and go before he can catch\nthem, and then people say, 'Poor little Dumah is demented.' But if Jesus\nwere here now, Dumah would be healed. I dreamed one night I saw him, and\nhe smiled, and looked upon me so sweetly and said, 'Dumah loves me!\nDumah loves me!' and then I saw him no more. Friend, I know you love\nhim, too. What is your name?\"\n\n\"Yusuf.\"\n\n\"Then, Yusuf, you will be my friend?\"\n\n\"I will be your friend, poor Dumah!\"\n\n\"Oh, no, Dumah is not poor! He is happy. But his thoughts are going now.\nAh, they throng! The visions come! The birds and the mists and the\nflowers are twining in a wreath, a wreath that stretches up to the\nclouds! Do you not see it?\" and he started off again on his wild,\nplaintive song.\n\nYusuf's eyes filled with tears, and he drew the lad to his bosom, and\nlooked out upon the grassy plot before the door, where a huge fire was\nnow shedding a flickering and fantastic glare upon the wrinkled visages\nof the Arabs, and lighting up the scene with a weird effect only to be\nseen in the Orient.\n\nCaldrons were boiling, and a savory odor penetrated the air. Men were\ntalking in groups, and a little dervish was spinning around nimbly in a\nsort of dance. Yusuf looked at him for a moment. There seemed to be\nsomething familiar about his figure and movements, but in the darkness\nhe could not be distinctly seen, and Yusuf soon forgot to pay any\nattention to him.\n\nHe drew the boy, who had now fallen asleep, close to him. What would he,\nYusuf, not give to learn fully of that source from whence the few meagre\ncrumbs picked up by this poor child were yet precious enough to give\nhim, all wandering as he was at times, the assurance of a sympathetic\nGod, and render him happy in the realization of his presence! What must\nbe the joy of a full revelation of these blessed truths, if, indeed,\ntruths they were!\n\nThe longing for such companionship filled Yusuf, as he lay there, with\nan intense desire. He could scarcely define, in truth he scarcely\nunderstood, exactly what he wanted. There was a lack in his life which\nno human agency had, as yet, been able to satisfy. His heart was\n\"reaching out its arms\" to know God--that was all; and he called it\nsearching for Truth.\n\n[Illustration: A head was thrust forward.... It was the little\ndervish.--See page 15.]\n\nFar into the night the Persian pondered, his mind beating against the\ndarkness of what was to him the great mystery; and he prayed for light.\nHe thought of the Father, yet again he prayed to the spirits of the\nplanets which were shining so brightly above him. But did not an echo of\nthat prayer ascend to the throne of grace? Was not the eye of Him who\nnotes even the sparrows when they fall, upon his poor, struggling child?\n\nAnd the end was not yet.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nWHEREIN YUSUF ENCOUNTERS A SAND-STORM IN THE DESERT, AND HAS SOMEWHAT OF\nAN EXPERIENCE WITH THE LITTLE DERVISH.\n\n    \"A column high and vast,\n      A form of fear and dread.\"\n\n                              --_Longfellow._\n\n\nWith but few events worthy of notice the journey to Mecca was concluded.\nAfter a short halt at Medina, the caravan set out by one of the three\nroads which then led from Medina to Mecca.[4]\n\nThe way led through a country whose aspect had every indication of\nvolcanic agency in the remote ages of the earth's history. Bleak\nplains--through whose barren soil outcrops of blackened scoriae, or sharp\nedges of black and brittle hornblende, appeared at every turn--were\ninterspersed with wadies, bounded by ridges of basalt and green-stone,\nrising from one hundred to two hundred feet high, and covered with a\nscanty vegetation of thorny acacias and clumps of camel-grass. Here and\nthere a rolling hill was cut by a deep gorge, showing where, after rain,\na mighty torrent must foam its way; and, more rarely still, a stagnant\npool of saltish or brackish water was marked out by a cluster of daum\npalms.\n\nOn all sides jackals howled dismally during the night; and above,\nduring the day, an occasional vulture wheeled, fresh from the carcass of\nsome poor mule dead by the wayside.\n\nSuch was the appearance of the land through which the caravan wound its\nway, beneath a sky peculiar to Arabia--purple at night, white and\nterrible in its heat at noon, yet ever strange, weird and impressive.\n\nBut one incident worth recounting occurred on the way. Yusuf, Amzi, and\nthe boy Dumah had been traveling side by side for some time. The way, at\nthat particular spot, led over a plain which afforded comparatively easy\ntraveling, and thus gave a better opportunity for conversation. The talk\nhad turned upon the Guebre worship, and the priest was amazed at the\nknowledge shown by Amzi of a religion so little known in Arabia.\n\n\"I can tell you more than that,\" said Amzi in a low tone. \"I can tell\nyou that you are not only Yusuf the Persian gentleman of leisure, but\nYusuf the Magian priest, accustomed to feed the sacred fire in the\nTemple of Jupiter. Is it not so? Did not Yusuf's hand even take the\nblood of Imri the infant daughter of Uzza in sacrifice? Can Yusuf the\nPersian traveler deny that?\"\n\nYusuf's head sank; his face crimsoned with pain, and the veins swelled\nlike cords on his brow.\n\n\"Alas, Amzi, it is but too true!\" he said. \"Yet, upon the most sacred\noath that a Persian can swear, I did it thinking that the blessing of\nthe gods would thus be invoked. The rite is one not unknown among the\nSabaeans of to-day, and common even among the Magians of the past. Amzi,\nit was in my days of heathendom that I did it, thinking it a duty to\nHeaven. It was Yusuf the priest who did it, not Yusuf the man; yet Yusuf\nthe man bears the torture of it in his bosom, and seeks forgiveness for\nthe blackest spot in his life! How knew you this, Amzi?--if the question\nbe an honorable one.\"\n\n\"Amzi knows much,\" returned the Meccan. \"He knows, too, that Yusuf can\nnever escape the brand of the priesthood. See!\"\n\nHe leaned forward, and drew back the loose garment from the Persian's\nbreast. A red burn, or scar, in the form of a torch, appeared in the\nflesh. As Yusuf hastened to cover it, a head was thrust forward, and two\nbead-like eyes peered from a shrouded face. It was the little dervish.\n\nThe priest was annoyed at the intrusion. He determined to take note of\nthe meddler, but the occurrence of an event common in the desert drove\nall thought of the dervish from his mind.\n\nThe cry \"A simoom! A simoom!\" arose throughout the caravan.\n\nThere, far towards the horizon, was a dense mass of dull, copper-colored\ncloud, rising and surging like the waves of a mad ocean. It spread\nrapidly upwards toward the zenith, and a dull roar sounded from afar\noff, broken by a peculiar shrieking whistle. And now dense columns could\nbe seen, bent backward in trailing wreaths of copper at the top,\nchanging and swaying before the hurricane, yet ever holding the form of\nvapory, yellow pillars,--huge shafts extending from earth to heaven, and\nrapidly advancing with awful menace upon the terrified multitude.\n\nThe Arabs screamed, helpless before the manifestation of what they\nbelieved was a supernatural force, for they look upon these columns as\nthe evil genii of the plains. Men and camels fell to the ground. Horses\nneighed in fear, and galloped madly to and fro. But the hot breath of\nthe \"poison-wind\" was upon them in a moment, shrieking like a fiend\namong the crisping acacias. The sand-storm then fell in all its fury,\nhalf smothering the poor wretches, who strove to cover their heads with\ntheir garments to keep out the burning, blistering, pitiless dust.\n\nFortunately all was over in a moment, and the tempest went swirling on\nits way northward, leaving a clear sky and a dust-buried country in its\nwake.\n\nIn the confusion the dervish had escaped to the other end of the\ncaravan, and was forgotten.\n\nAt the end of the tenth day after leaving Medina the caravan reached\nthe head of the long, narrow defile in which lies the city of Mecca, the\nchief town of El Hejaz. It was early morning when the procession passed\nthrough the cleft at the western end; and the sun was just rising, a\nglobe of red, above the blue mountains towards Tayf, when Yusuf stopped\nhis camel on an eminence in full view of the city. There it lay in the\nheart of the rough blackish hills, whose long shadows still fell upon\nthe low stone houses and crooked streets beneath.[5]\n\nThe priest's eager glance sought for the Caaba. There it was, a huge,\nstone cube, standing in the midst of a courtyard two hundred and fifty\npaces long by two hundred paces wide, and shrouded from top to bottom by\na heavy curtain of dark, striped cloth of Yemen.\n\nThere was something awe-inspiring in the scene, and the priest felt a\nthrill of apprehensive emotion as he gazed upon what he had fondly hoped\nwould prove the end of his long journey. Yet his eye clouded; he covered\nhis face with his mantle and wept, saying to his soul, \"Here, too, have\nthey turned aside to worship the false, and have bowed down to idols! My\nsoul! My soul! Where shalt thou find truth and rest?\"\n\nAmzi touched him on the arm. \"Why do you weep, friend? Thou art a false\nGuebre, truly! Know you not that even they hold the Caaba in high\nreverence?\"\n\nThere was a tone of good-natured raillery in the voice, and the speaker\ncontinued: \"Arouse yourself, my friend. See how they worship in Mecca.\nThey are at it already! See them run! By my faith 'tis a lusty morning\nexercise!\"\n\nYusuf looked up to see a great concourse of people gathering in the\ncourt-yard. Many were rushing about the Caaba, and pausing frequently at\none corner of the huge structure.\n\n\"Each pilgrim,\" explained Amzi, \"holds himself bound to go seven times\nabout the temple, and the harder he runs the more virtue there is in\nit--performing the Tawaf, they call it. Those who seem to pause are\nkissing the Hajar Aswad--the Black Stone, which, the Arabs say, was once\nan angel cast from heaven in the form of a pure white jacinth. It is now\nblackened by the kisses of sinners, but will, at the last day, arise in\nits angel form, to bear testimony of the faithful who have kissed it,\nand have done the Tawaf faithfully. And now, friend, come to the house\nof Amzi, and see if he can be as hospitable as Musa the Bedouin.\"\n\nYusuf gratefully accepted the invitation, and the camels were urged on\nagain down the narrow, crooked street.\n\n\"Know you aught of one Mohammed?\" asked the priest. \"A roguish Hebrew\nleft me, with scant ceremony, in possession of a manuscript which must\nbe given to him.\"\n\n\"Aye, well do I know him,\" said Amzi. \"Mohammed, the son of Abdallah the\nhandsome, and grandson of Abdal Motalleb, who was the son of Haschem of\nthe tribe of the Koreish--a tribe which has long held a position among\nthe highest of Mecca, and has, for ages past, had the guardianship of\nthe Caaba itself. Mohammed himself is a man of sagacity and honor in all\nhis dealings. He is married to Cadijah, a wealthy widow, whose business\nhe has long carried on with scrupulous fairness. He, too, is one of the\nfew who, in Mecca, have ceased to believe in idols, and would fain see\nthe Caaba purged of its images.\"\n\n\"There are some, then, who cast aside such beliefs?\"\n\n\"Yes, the Hanifs (ascetics), who utterly reject polytheism. Waraka, a\ncousin of the wife of Mohammed, is one of the chief of these; and\nMohammed himself has, for several years, been accustomed to retire to\nthe cave of Hira for meditation and prayer. It is said that he has\npreached and taught for some time in the city, but only to his immediate\nfriends and relatives. Well, here we are at last,\"--as a pretentious\nstone building was reached. \"Amzi the benevolent bids Yusuf the Persian\npriest welcome.\"\n\nAmzi led the priest into a house furnished with no small degree of\nOriental splendor.\n\n    \"Right to the carven cedarn doors,\n    Flung inward over spangled floors,\n    Broad-based flights of marble stairs\n    Ran up with golden balustrade,\n    After the fashion of the time.\"\n\nA meal of Oriental dishes, dried fruit and sweetmeats was prepared; and,\nwhen the coolness of evening had come, the two friends proceeded to the\ntemple.\n\nEntering by a western gate, they found the great quadrangle crowded with\nmen, women and children, some standing in groups, with sanctimonious\nair, at prayers, while others walked or ran about the Caaba, which\nloomed huge and somber beneath the solemn light of the stars. A few\nsolitary torches--for at that time the slender pillars with their\nmyriads of lamps had not been erected--lit up the scene with a weird,\nwavering glare, and threw deep shadows across the white, sanded ground.\n\nA curious crowd it seemed. The wild enthusiasm that marked the conduct\nof the followers of Mohammed at a later day was absent, yet every motion\nof the motley crowd proclaimed the veneration with which the place\ninspired the impressionable and excitable Arabs.\n\nHere stood a wealthy Meccan, with flowing robes, arms crossed and eyes\nturned upward; there stalked a tall and gaunt figure whose black robes\nand heavy black head-dress proclaimed the wearer a Bedouin woman. Here\nran a group of beggars; and there a number of half-naked pilgrims clung\nto the curtained walls. Once a corpse was carried into the enclosure and\nborne in solemn Tawaf round the edifice.\n\n\"Look!\" cried poor Dumah. \"The son of the widow of Nain! The son of the\nwidow of Nain! Oh, why does not he whom Dumah sees in his dreams come to\nraise him! But then, there are idols here, and he cannot come where\nthere are other gods before him.\"\n\nOn surveying the temple, Yusuf discovered that the door of the edifice\nwas placed seven feet above the ground. Amzi informed him that the\ntemple might be entered only at certain times, but that it contained an\nimage of Abraham holding in its hand some arrows without heads; also a\nsimilar statue of Ishmael likewise with divining arrows, and lesser\nimages of prophets and angels amounting almost to the number of three\nhundred.\n\nPassing round the temple to the north-eastern corner, Yusuf looked\ncuriously at the Black Stone, which was set in the wall at a few spans\nfrom the ground, and which seemed to be black with yellowish specks in\nit.[6] Many people were pressing forward to kiss it, while many more\nwere drinking and laving themselves with water from a well a few paces\ndistant,--the well Zem-Zem,--believing that in so doing their sins were\nwashed off in the water.\n\n\"This,\" said Amzi, pointing to the spring, \"is said to be the well which\ngushed up to give drink to our forefather Ishmael and Hagar his mother,\nwhen they had gone into the wilderness to die.\"\n\nYusuf sighed heavily. Such empty ceremony had no longer any attraction\nfor him, and he turned his eyes towards the mountain Abu Kubays,\ntowering dark and gloomy above the town, its black crest touched with a\nsilvery radiance by the light of the stars shining brilliantly above.\n\nWas this, then, the Caaba? Was this what he had fondly hoped would fill\nhis heart's longing? Was there any food in this empty ceremonial for a\nhungering soul? Why, oh why did the truth ever elude him, flitting like\nan ignis-fatuus with phantom light through a dark and blackened\nwilderness!\n\nAmzi was talking to someone in the crowd, and Yusuf passed slowly out\nand bent his way down a silent and deserted street. No one was in sight\nexcept a very young girl, almost a child, who was gliding quickly on in\nthe shadows. Once or twice she seemed to stagger, then she fell. Yusuf\nhurried to her, and turned her face to the starlight. Even in that dim\nlight he could see that it was contorted with pain. Yusuf heard the\nmurmur of voices in a low building close at hand, and, without waiting\nto knock, he lifted the girl in his arms, opened the door, and passed\nin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nNATHAN THE JEW.\n\n    \"I shall be content, whatever happens, for what God chooses must\n    be better than what I can choose.\"--_Epictetus._\n\n\nThe same evening on which Yusuf visited the temple, a woman and her two\nchildren sat in a dingy little room with an earthen floor, in one of the\nmost dilapidated streets of Mecca. The woman's face bore traces of want\nand suffering, yet there was a calm dignity and hopefulness in her\ncountenance, and her voice was not despairing. She sat upon a bundle of\nrushes placed on the floor. No lamp lighted the apartment, but through\nan opening in the wall the soft starlight shone upon the bands of hair\nthat fell in little braids over her forehead. Her two beautiful children\nwere beside her, the girl with her arm about her mother, and the boy's\nhead on her lap.\n\n\"Will we have only hard cake for breakfast, mother, and to-morrow my\nbirthday, too?\" he was saying.\n\n\"That is all, my little Manasseh, unless the good Father sees fit to\nsend us some way of earning more. You know even the hairs of our heads\nare numbered, so he takes notice of the poorest and weakest of his\nchildren, and has promised us that there will be no lack to them that\nfear him.\"\n\n\"But, mother, we have had lack many, many times,\" said the boy\nthoughtfully.\n\nThe mother smiled. \"But things have usually come right in the end,\" she\nsaid, \"and you know 'Our light affliction, which is but for a moment,\nworketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.' We\ncannot understand all these things now, but it will be plain some day.\n'We will trust, and not be afraid,' because our trust is in the Lord;\nand we know that 'he will perfect that which concerneth us,' if we trust\nhim.\"\n\n\"And will he send father home soon?\" asked the boy. \"We have been\npraying for him to come, so, so long! Do you think God hears us, mother?\nWhy doesn't he send father home?\"\n\nThe woman's head drooped, and a tear rolled down her cheek, but her\nvoice was calm and firm.\n\n\"Manasseh, child,\" she said, \"your father may never return; but, though\na Jew, he was a Christian; and, living or dead, I know he is safe in the\nkeeping of our blessed Lord. Yes, Manasseh, God hears the slightest\nwhisper breathed from the heart of those who call upon him in truth. He\nsays, Jesus says, 'I know my sheep, and am known of mine.' Little son, I\nlike to think that our blessed Savior, who 'laid down his life for the\nsheep,' is here--in this very room, close to us. Sometimes I close my\neyes and think I see him, looking upon us in mercy and love from his\ntender eyes, and he almost seems so near that I may touch him. No, he\nwill never forsake us. Little ones, my constant prayer for you is that\nyou may learn to realize the depths of his love, and to render him your\nhearts in return; that you may feel ever closer to him than to any\nearthly parent, and prove yourselves loving, faithful children of whom\nhe may not be ashamed.\"\n\nThe woman's voice trembled with emotion as she concluded, and a glow of\nhappiness illuminated her thin features.\n\n\"Well, mother, I was ashamed to-day,\" said little Manasseh. \"I got angry\nand struck a boy.\"\n\n\"Manasseh! My child!\"\n\n\"You cannot understand, mother; you are so good that you never get\nangry or wicked. But the anger keeps rising up in me till it seems as if\nmy heart would burst; the blood rushes to my face, my eyes\nflash--then--I strike, and think of nothing.\"\n\nShe stroked his hair gently. \"Manasseh, my boy's temper is one enemy\nwhich he has to conquer. But he must not try to conquer it in his own\nstrength. We have an Almighty Helper who has given us to know that he\nwill not suffer us to be tempted beyond that we are able, and has bidden\nus cast all our care upon him. He will be only too willing to guide us\nand uphold us by his power, if we will but let him keep us and lead us\nfar from all temptation.\"\n\n\"Then what would you do, mother, if you were in my place when the anger\ncomes up?\"\n\nShe stooped and kissed him. \"I would say, 'Jesus, help me,' and leave it\nall to him.\"\n\nJust then a step sounded at the door. Some one entered, and a cry of\n\"Father! Oh, father!\" burst from the children. The mother sprang,\ntrembling, to her feet. It was the long-lost husband and father!\n\nThen the lamp was lighted, and the traveler told his loved ones the\nstory of his long absence; how he had embarked at Jeddah on a foist\nbound for the head of the Red Sea; how he had been shipwrecked; had\nbecome ill of a fever as the result of exposure; and how he had at last\nmade his painful way home by traveling overland.\n\nAs they thus sat, talking in ecstasy of joy at their reunion, the door\nopened and Yusuf entered with the girl in his arms.\n\nWater was sprinkled upon her face and she soon recovered. She placed her\nhand on her brow in a dazed way, then sprang up, and, just pausing for\nan instant in which her wondrous beauty might be noted, dashed off into\nthe night.\n\n\"It is Zeinab, the beautiful child of Hassan,\" said the Jewess. \"She\nwill be well again now. The paroxysms have come before.\"\n\n\"Sit you down, friend,\" said her husband to Yusuf. \"We were just about\nto break bread. 'Tis a scanty meal,\" he added, with a smile. \"But we\nhave been enjoined to 'be not forgetful to entertain strangers,' because\nmany have thus entertained angels unawares. We shall be glad of the\ncompany.\"\n\nThere was a manly uprightness in the look and tone of Nathan the Jew\nwhich caught Yusuf's fancy at once, and he sat down without hesitation\nat the humble board.\n\nAnd there, in that little, dingy room, he saw the first gleam of that\nradiant light which was to transform the whole of his after life. He\nheard of the trials and disappointments, of the heroic fortitude born of\nthat trust in and union with God which he had so craved. He received his\nfirst glimpse of a God, human as we are human, who understands every\nlonging, every doubt, every agony that can bleed the heart of a poor\nchild of earth.\n\nHe scarcely dared yet to believe that this God was one really with him\nat all times and in all places, seeing, hearing, knowing, sympathizing.\nHe scarcely dared to realize the possibility of a companionship with\nhim, or the fact that the mediation of the planet-spirits was but a\nmyth. Yet he did feel, in a vague way, that the light was breaking, and\na tumultuous, undefined, hopeful ecstasy took possession of his being.\nYusuf's heart was ready for the reception of the truth. He was\nunprejudiced. He had cast aside all dependence upon the tenets of his\nformer belief. He had become as a little child anxious for rest upon its\nfather's bosom. He sought only God, and to him the light came quickly.\n\nThere was an infinity of blessed truth to learn yet, but, as he went out\ninto the night, he knew that a something had come into his life,\ntransforming and ennobling it. The divinity within him throbbed heart to\nheart with the Divinity that is above all, in all, throughout all good.\nThough vaguely, he felt God; he knew that now, at last, he had entered\nupon the right road.\n\nThen he thought of Amzi. He must try to tell him all this. Surely Amzi\nthe learned, the benevolent, would rejoice too in hearing the story of\nJesus' life on earth, of his coming as an expression of the love of God\nto man, that man might know God.\n\nThrough the dark streets he hastened, thinking, wondering, rejoicing. He\nsought the bedside of Amzi on the flat roof.\n\n\"Amzi, awake!\" he cried.\n\n\"What now, night-hawk?\" said the Meccan, in his good-natured,\nhalf-railing tone. \"Why pounce upon a man thus in the midst of his\nslumbers?\"\n\n\"Amzi, I have heard glorious news of him--that Jesus of whom we have\ntalked!\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"He seems indeed to be the God for whom I have longed. They have been\ntelling me of his life, yet I realize little save that he came to earth\nthat men might know him; that he died to show men the depth of his love;\nand that he is with us at every time, in every place--even here, now, on\nthis roof! Only think of it, Amzi! He is close beside us, seeing us,\nhearing us, knowing our very hearts! There is no need more of appealing\nto the spirits of the stars. Ah, they were ever far, far off!\"\n\n\"And where learned you all this, friend priest?\" There was an\nindifferent raillery in the tone which chilled Yusuf to the heart.\n\n\"From Nathan, a Christian Jew, and his wife--people who live close to\nGod if any one does.\"\n\n\"In the Jewish quarter?\"\n\n\"Even so.\"\n\nAmzi laughed. \"Truly, friend, you have chosen a fair spot for your\nrevelation--a quarter of filth and vice. A case of good coming out of\nevil, truly!\"\n\n\"Will you not grant that there are some good even in the Jewish\nquarter?\"\n\n\"Some, perhaps; yet there are some good among all peoples.\"\n\n\"Amzi, can you not believe?\"\n\n\"No, no, friend Yusuf; I am glad for your happiness--believe what you\nwill. But it is foreign to Amzi's nature to accept on hearsay that which\nhe has not inquired into--probed to the bottom even. He cannot accept\nthe testimony of any passing stranger, however plausible it may seem.\nRejoice if you will, Yusuf, in the spring of a night-tune, but leave\nAmzi to seek for the deep waters still.\"\n\nAmzi was now talking quickly and impressively.\n\nYusuf was amazed. The light was beginning to shine so brightly in his\nown soul that he could not comprehend why others could not see and\nbelieve likewise. He talked with his friend until the dawn began to tint\nthe top of Abu Kubays, but without effect. At every turn he was met by\nthe bitter prejudice held by the Meccans against the whole Jewish race,\na prejudice which kept even Amzi the benevolent from believing in\nanything advocated by them.\n\n\"Why do they not show Christ in their lives, then?\" he would say.\n\n\"You cannot judge the whole Christian band by the misdeeds of a few, who\nare, indeed, no Christians,\" Yusuf pleaded.\n\n\"True; yet a religion such as you describe should appeal to more of\nthem, and would, if it were all you imagine it to be. A perfect religion\nshould be exemplified in the lives of those who profess it.\"\n\n\"I grant you that that is true,\" was Yusuf's reply. \"And as an example\nlet me bring you to Nathan and his family. Nobody could talk for one\nhour to them without feeling that they have found, at least, something\nwhich we do not possess. This something, they say, is their God.\"\n\n\"Well, well. I shall do so to please you,\" said Amzi indifferently, \"but\nI hope that a longer acquaintance may not spoil your trust in these\npeople.\"\n\nFurther expostulation was vain. Yusuf retired to his own apartment, and\nprayed long and fervently, in his own simple way, offering thanks for\nthe light which was breaking so radiantly on his own soul, and\nbeseeching the loving Jesus to touch the heart of Amzi, who, he knew,\nthough less enthusiastic than he, also desired to know truth.\n\nAnd before he lay down for a short rest, he said:\n\n\"Grant, O Jesus, thou who art ever present, that I may know thee better,\nand that Amzi, too, may learn to know thee. Reveal thyself to him as\nthou art revealing thyself to me, that we may know thee as we should.\"\n\nThe priest's face grew radiant with happiness as he concluded.\n\nAnd yet, in that same city, vice held sway; for, even as the priest\nprayed, a dark figure emerged from an unused upper attic in the house of\nNathan the Jew, and, escaping by a window, descended a garden stair and\ndisappeared in the darkness. Even in that dim light, had one looked he\nmight have noted that the mysterious prowler wore the dress of a\ndervish.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nYUSUF'S FIRST MEETING WITH MOHAMMED.\n\n    \"A person with abnormal auditory sensations often comes to\n    interpret them as voices of demons, or as the voice of one\n    commanding him to do some deed. This hallucination, in turn,\n    becomes an apperceiving organ, _i.e._, other perceptions and\n    ideas are assimilated to it: it becomes a center about which\n    many ideas gather and are correspondingly\n    distorted.\"--_McLellan, Psychology._\n\n\nUpon the evening of the following day, Amzi and Yusuf set out in quest\nof Mohammed, to whom the manuscript had not yet been given. Stopping at\nthe house of Cadijah, a stone building having some pretensions to\ngrandeur, they learned that Mohammed had left the city. Accordingly,\nthinking he would probably be found in the Cave of Hira, they took a\nby-path towards the mountains.\n\nThe sun was hot, but a pleasant breeze blew from the plains towards the\nNejd, and, from the elevation which they now ascended, Yusuf noted with\ninterest a scene every point of which was entirely different from that\nof his Persian home--different perhaps from that of any other spot on\nthe face of the earth; a scene desolate, wild, and barren, yet destined\nto be the cradle of a mighty movement that was ere long to agitate the\nentire peninsula of Arabia, and eventually to exercise its baneful\ninfluence over a great part of the Eastern Hemisphere.[7]\n\nBelow him lay the long, narrow, sandy valley. No friendly group of palms\narose to break its dreary monotony; no green thing, save a few parched\naloes, was there to form a pleasant resting-place for the eye. The\npasses below, those ever-populous roads leading to the Nejd, Syria,\nJeddah, and Arabia-Felix, were crowded with people; yet, even their\npresence did not suffice to remove the air of deadness from the scene.\nOf one thing only could the beholder be really conscious--desolation,\ndesolation; a desolate city surrounded by huge, bare, skeleton-like\nmountains, grim old Abu Kubays with the city stretching half way up its\ngloomy side, on the east; the Red mountain on the west; Jebel Kara\ntoward Tayf, and Jebel Thaur with Jebel Jiyad the Greater, on the south.\n\n[Illustration: \"Read, O Mohammed, and see him who was able to restore\nthe withered hand.\"--See page 23.]\n\nYusuf watched the people, many of whom were pilgrims, swarming like so\nmany ants below him towards the Caaba, which was in full view, standing\nlike a huge sarcophagus in the center of the great courtyard. In the\ntransparent air of the Orient, even the pillars supporting the covered\nportico about the courtyard were quite visible. Yusuf had observed the\ngreat system of barter, the buying and selling that went on beneath the\nroof of that long portico, within the very precincts of the temple set\napart for the worship of the Deity, and, as he watched the pigmy\ncreatures, now swarming towards the trading stalls, now hastening to\nperform Tawaf about the temple, he almost wept that such sacrilege\nshould exist, and a great throb of pity for these erring people whose\nspiritual nature was barren as the vast, treeless, verdureless waste\nabout them, filled his breast.\n\nAmzi directed his attention towards the east, where the blue mountains\nof Tayf stood like outposts in the distance.\n\n\"There,\" said he, \"at but a three days' journey is the district of\nplenty, the Canaan of Mecca, whence come the grapes, melons, cucumbers,\nand pomegranates that are to be seen in our markets. There are pleasant\ndales and gardens where the camel-thorn gives way to a carpet of\nverdure; where the mimosa and acacia give place to the glossy-leaved\nfig-tree, to stately palms, and pomegranates of the scarlet fruit; where\nrippling streams are heard, and the songs of birds fill the air. There\nis a tradition that Adam, when driven out of the Garden of Eden, settled\nat Mecca; and there, on the site of the temple yonder, and immediately\nbeneath a glittering temple of pearly cloud, shimmering dews, and\nrainbow lights said to be in Paradise above,--the Bait-el Maamur of\nHeaven,--was built, by the help of angels, the first Caaba, a\nresplendent temple with pillars of jasper and roof of ruby. Adam then\ncompassed the temple seven times, as the angels did the Bait above in\nperpetual Tawaf. He then prayed for a bit of fertile land, and\nimmediately a mountain from Syria appeared, performed Tawaf round the\nCaaba, and then settled down yonder at Tayf. Hence, Tayf is even yet\ncalled 'Kita min el Sham'--a piece of Syria, the father-land.\"\n\n\"So then, this Caaba, according to tradition, is of early origin?\"\n\n\"The Arabs believe that when the earthly Bait-el Maamur was taken to\nheaven at Adam's death, a third one was built of stone and mud by Seth.\nThis was swept away by the Deluge, but the Black Stone was kept safe in\nAbu Kubays, which is, therefore, called 'El Amin'--the Honest. After the\nflood, a fourth House was built by our father Abraham, to whom the angel\nGabriel restored the stone. Abraham's building was repaired and in part\nrestored by the Amalikah tribe. A sixth Caaba was built by the children\nof Kahtan, into whose tribe, say the Arabs, Ismail was married. The\nseventh house was built by Kusay bin Kilab, a forefather of Mohammed,\nand I have reason to believe that he was the first who filled it with\nthe idols which now disgrace its walls. Kusay's house was burnt, its\ncloth covering (or kiswah) catching fire from a torch. It was rebuilt by\nthe Koreish (Qurais) a few years ago. It was then that the door was\nplaced high above the ground, as you see it, and then that the movable\nstair was constructed. Then, too, the six columns which support the roof\nwere added, and Mohammed, El Amin, was chosen to determine the position\nof the Black Stone in the wall. So, friend, I have now given you in\npart, the history of the Caaba.\"\n\nBestowing a last look upon the temple, the friends walked for some\ndistance northward across the slopes of Mount Hira, until a low, dark\nopening appeared in the face of a rock.\n\nDrawing back a thorny bush from its door, they entered the cave. A low\nmoaning noise sounded within. For a moment, the transition from the\nwhite glare without to the twilight of the cave blinded them, then they\nsaw that the moans proceeded from Mohammed, who was lying on his back on\nthe stone floor. His head-dress was awry, his face was purple, and froth\nissued from his mouth.\n\nAmzi seized an earthen vessel of water, and bathed his brow.\n\n\"Poor fellow!\" he said, \"how often he may have suffered here alone! It\nhas been his custom for years to spend the holy month of Ramadhan here\nin prayer and meditation. He has often taken these fits before; but, if\nwhat is said be true, he knows not that he is suffering, for angels\nappear to him during the paroxysms.\"\n\n\"It seems to me much more like a fit of epilepsy,\" said Yusuf, rather\nsarcastically. \"See, he begins to come to himself again.\"\n\nMohammed had stopped moaning, and his face began to regain its natural\ncolor.\n\nPresently he opened his eyes in a dazed way, and sat up. He was a man of\nmiddle height, with a ruddy, rather florid complexion, a high forehead,\nand very even, white teeth. There was something commanding and\ndignified in his appearance. He wore a bushy beard, and was habited in a\nstriped cotton gown of cloth of Yemen; and, from his person emanated the\nsweet odor of choicest perfumes of the Nejd and Arabia-Felix.\n\n\"Ah, it is Amzi!\" he said. \"Pardon me, friend, but the angel has just\nleft me, and I failed to recognize you at once, my mind was so occupied\nwith the wonder of his communications; for, friend, the time is nigh,\neven at hand, when the prophet of Allah, the One, the only Person of the\nGodhead, is to be proclaimed!\"\n\nHis voice was low and musical, and he spoke as one under the influence\nof an inspiration.\n\n\"Has the angel appeared to you in visible form?\"\n\n\"Sometimes he appears in human form, but in a blinding light; at other\ntimes I hear a sound as of a silver bell tinkling afar. Then I hear no\nwords, but the truth sinks upon my soul, and burns itself into my brain,\nand I feel that the angel speaks.\"\n\n\"Of what, then, has he spoken?\" asked Amzi.\n\n\"The time in which the full revelation shall be thrown open to man is\nnot yet. But it will come ere long. None, heretofore, save my own kin\nand friends, have been given aught of the great message; yet to you,\nAmzi, may I say that Abraham, Moses, Christ, have all been servants of\nthe true God, yet for Mohammed has been reserved the honor of casting\nout the idolatry with which the worship of our people reeks. For him is\ndestined the glory of purging our Caaba of its images, and of\nreinstating the true religion of our fathers in this fair land. Then\nshall men know that Allah is the one God, and Mohammed is his prophet!\"\n\n\"Think you to place yourself on an equality with the Son of God?\" cried\nYusuf, sternly.\n\nMohammed turned quickly upon him, and his face worked in a frenzy of\nexcitement.\n\n\"I tell you there is but one God,--one invisible, eternal God, Allah\nabove all in earth and heaven,--and Mohammed is the prophet of God!\" he\ncried.\n\nYusuf perceived that he had to deal with a fanatic, a religious\nenthusiast, who would not be reasoned with.\n\n\"Yes,\" he continued, \"may it be Mohammed's privilege to lead men back to\ntruth, and to turn them from heathendom; to teach them to be wise as\nserpents, harmless as doves, and to show them how to walk with clean\nhands and hearts through the earth, living uprightly in the sight of all\nmen!\"\n\n\"Yet,\" ventured Yusuf, \"did not Jesus teach something of this?\"\n\n\"Jesus was great and good,\" said Mohammed; \"he was needed in his day\nupon the earth, but men have fallen away again, and Mohammed is the\ngreatest and last, the prophet of Allah!\"\n\nThe speaker's eyes were flashing; he was yet under the influence of an\noverpowering excitement. The color began to rush to his face, and Yusuf,\nfearing a return of the swoon, deemed it wise not to prolong the\nargument, but delivered the manuscript left by the peddler, saying:\n\n\"Read, O Mohammed, and see him who was able to restore the withered hand\nstretched forth in faith. Perceive him, and commit not this sacrilege.\"\n\nTrusting himself to say no more, Yusuf hastily left the cavern, followed\nby Amzi, who remarked, thoughtfully:\n\n\"Yet, there is much good, too, in that which Mohammed would advocate.\"\n\n\"There is,\" assented Yusuf. \"Yet, though I know not why, I cannot trust\nthis man. 'Tis an instinct, if you will. What, think you, does he mean\nto win by this procedure,--power, or esteem, or fame?\"\n\nAmzi shook his head quickly in denial. \"Mohammed is one of the most\nupright of men, one of the last to seek personal favor or distinction by\ndishonest means, one of the last to be a maker of lies. Verily, Yusuf, I\nknow not what to think of his revelations. If he does not in truth see\nthese visions, he at least imagines he does. He is honest in what he\nsays.\"\n\n\"'If he does not in truth'!\" repeated Yusuf. \"Surely you, Amzi, have no\nconfidence in his visions?\"\n\nAmzi smiled. \"And yet Yusuf, no longer ago than last night, was ready to\nbelieve the testimony of a pauper Jew in regard to similar assertions,\"\nhe said. \"But keep your mind easy, friend; I have not accepted\nMohammed's claims. I am open to conviction yet, and I am not hasty to\nbelieve. In fact, I must confess, Yusuf, an entire lack of that fervor,\nof that capacity for religious feeling, which is so marked a trait in my\nPersian priest.\"\n\n\"Yet you, too, professed to be a seeker for truth,\" said Yusuf,\nreproachfully.\n\n\"My desire for truth is simply to know it for the mere sake of knowing\nit,\" said Amzi.\n\nYusuf sighed. He did not realize that he had to deal with a peculiar\nnature, one of the hardest to impress in spiritual things--the\nindifferent, calculating mind, which is more than half satisfied with\nmoral virtue, not realizing the infinitely higher, nobler, happier life\nthat comes from the inspiration of a constant companionship with God.\n\n\"Alas, I am but a poor teacher, Amzi,\" he said. \"You know, perhaps, more\nof the doctrines of these Christians than I; yet I am convinced that to\nme has come a blessing which you lack, and I would fain you had it too.\nAnd I know so little that it seems I cannot help you. You will, at\nleast, come and talk with Nathan?\"\n\n\"As you will,\" said Amzi, in a half-bantering tone. \"Prove to me that\nthese Hebrews are infallible, and I shall half accept their Jewish\nphilosophy.\"\n\n\"You cannot expect to find them or any one on this earth infallible,\"\nreturned Yusuf, quietly. \"I can only promise that you will find in them\nquiet, sincere, upright Christians.\"\n\nThey had reached a sudden turn on the path, and before them, on the top\nof a steep cliff, stood Dumah, with his fair hair streaming in the\nsunshine. He was singing, and they paused to listen.\n\n    \"He is gone, the noble, the handsome,\n    And the tears of the mother are falling\n    Like dews from the cup of the lily\n    When it bends its head in the darkness.\"\n\n\"Poor Dumah!\" said Amzi, \"singing his thoughts as usual. What now,\nDumah? Who is weeping?\"\n\n\"A poor Jewess,\" said the boy, \"and her two children cling to her gown\nand weep too. Ah, if Dumah had power he would soon set him free.\"\n\n\"Set whom free?\" asked Yusuf.\n\n\"The father; they say he took the cup to buy bread; but for the sake of\nthe children, Dumah would set him free.\"\n\n\"Oh, it is only a case of stealing down in the Jewish quarter,\" said\nAmzi, carelessly.\n\n\"Yet,\" returned the other, \"a weeping mother and helpless children\nshould appeal to the heart of Amzi the benevolent. Let us turn aside and\nsee what it is about. Dumah, lead us.\"\n\nThey followed the boy to the hall or court-room of the city. A judge sat\non a raised dais; witnesses were below, and the owner of the gold cup\nwas talking excitedly and calling loudly for justice.\n\n\"There is the culprit,\" whispered Amzi.\n\nYusuf was struck dumb. It was Nathan, the Christian Jew! Agony was\nwritten in his face, yet there was patience in it too. His arms were\nbound, and his head was bent in what might have been interpreted as\nhumiliation.\n\n\"Once more,\" cried the judge, \"have you aught to say for yourself, Jew?\"\n\nNathan raised his head proudly, and looked the Judge straight in the\neyes.\n\n\"I am guiltless,\" he said, in low, firm tones.\n\nA murmur burst from the crowd, and exclamations could be heard.\n\n\"Not guilty! And the cup found in his house!\"\n\n\"Coward dog! Will he not yet confess?\"\n\n\"The scourge is too good for him!\"\n\n\"Have you no explanation to offer?\" asked the judge.\n\n\"None.\"\n\n\"Then, guards, place him in irons to await our further pleasure. In the\nmeantime forty lashes of the scourge. Next!\"\n\nNathan walked out with firm step and head erect. A low sob burst from\nsome one in the crowd. It was the wife of Nathan, weeping, while little\nManasseh and Mary clung to her weeping too.\n\nYusuf touched her on the arm. \"Hush! Be calm!\" he said. \"All will yet be\nwell. I, for one, know that he is innocent, and I will not rest until he\nis free.\"\n\n\"Thank God! He has not forsaken us!\" exclaimed the woman.\n\nYusuf put a piece of money into Manasseh's hand. \"Here, take your mother\nhome, and buy some bread,\" he said.\n\n\"And here, pretty lad, know you the touch of gold?\" said Amzi, as he\nslipped another coin into the child's hand. \"Now, Yusuf,\" he went on,\n\"come, let us see your Jewish friends of yester-even.\"\n\n\"Alas, Amzi, these are they,\" returned the priest, sadly, \"and I fear\nyon poor woman feels little like talking to us in the freshness of her\ngrief.\"\n\nAmzi laughed, mysteriously. \"So your teacher has proved but a common Jew\nthief,\" he said.\n\nYusuf turned almost fiercely. \"Do you believe this vile story?\" he\nexclaimed. \"Did you not see truth stamped upon Nathan's face?\"\n\n\"You must admit that circumstances are against him. The proof seems\nconclusive.\"\n\n\"I will never believe it, were the proof produced by their machinations\nten times as conclusive! There is some mystery here which I will\nunravel!\"\n\n\"My poor Yusuf, you are too credulous in respect to these people. So be\nit. You believe in your Jews, I shall believe in my Mohammed, until the\ntale told is a different one,\" laughed Amzi; and for the moment Yusuf\nfelt helpless.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nYUSUF STUDIES THE SCRIPTURES.--CONNECTING EVENTS.\n\n    \"Surely an humble husbandman that serveth God is better than a\n    proud philosopher who, neglecting himself, is occupied in\n    studying the course of the heavens.\"--_Thomas a Kempis._\n\n\nFor many weeks, even months, after this, Yusuf's life, to one who knew\nnot the workings of his mind, seemed colorless, and filled with a\nmonotonous round of never-varying occupation. Yet in those few weeks he\nlived more than in all his life before. Life is not made up of either\nyears or actions--the development of thought and character is the\nimportant thing; and in this period of apparent waiting, Yusuf grew and\ndeveloped in the light of his new understanding.\n\nHe read and thought and studied, and yet found time for paying some\nattention to outer affairs. In Persia he had amassed a considerable\nfortune, which he had conveyed to Mecca in the form of jewels sewn into\nhis belt and into the seams of his garments, hence he was abundantly\nable to pay his way, and to expend something in charity; and between his\nand Amzi's generosity the family of Nathan lacked nothing.\n\nYusuf obtained possession of parts of the Scriptures, written on\nparchment, and spent every morning in their perusal, ever finding this\nperiod a precious feast full of comforting assurances, and\nhope-inspiring promises. He never forgot to pray for Amzi, to whom he\noften read and expounded passages of Scripture, without being able to\nnotice any apparent effect of his teaching.\n\nIt troubled him much that Amzi lent such a willing ear to Mohammed, and\nto the few fanatics among the Hanifs who had now professed their belief\nin this self-proclaimed prophet of Allah. It seemed marvelous that a man\nof Amzi's wisdom and learning should be so carried away by such a flimsy\ndoctrine as that which Mohammed now began to proclaim. Amzi appeared to\nhave fallen under the spell which Mohammed seemed to cast over many of\nthose with whom he came in contact; and, though he acknowledged no\nbelief in the so-called prophet, neither did he profess disbelief in\nhim.\n\nYusuf's happiest hours were those spent in the little Jewish Christian\nchurch, a poor, uncomfortable building, where an earnest handful of\nJews, who were nevertheless firm believers in the divinity of Christ,\nmet, often in secret, always in fear of the derisive Arabs, for prayer\nand study of the Gospel. Among these, the wife of Nathan was never\nabsent.\n\nYusuf sought untiringly to solve the mystery of the gold cup.\nCircumstantial evidence was certainly against Nathan. Awad, a rich\nmerchant of Mecca, had placed the cup near a window in his house, and\nhad forgotten to remove it ere retiring for the night. A short time\nbefore dawn he had heard a noise and risen to see what it was. He had\ngone outside just in time to see a figure passing hurriedly across a\nsmall field near his house. Even then he had not thought of the cup. But\nin the morning it was missed, and tracks were followed from the window\nas far as the ruined house to which Nathan's family had gone in their\npoverty. The house was searched, and the cup was found hidden in a heap\nof rubbish in an unused apartment.\n\nNathan had just returned with little save the clothes he wore; it was\nwell known that his wife and children had been verging on starvation,\nand the public, ever ready to judge, formed its own conclusion, and\nturned with Nemesis eye upon the poor Jew.\n\nNo clue whatever remained, except a small carnelian, which Yusuf found\nafterwards upon the floor, and which he took possession of at once. For\nhours he would wander about, hoping to find some trace of the robber,\nwho, he firmly believed, had fancied himself followed by Awad, and had\nhurriedly secreted the cup, trusting to return for it later, and to make\nhis escape in the meantime.\n\nAll this, however, did not help poor Nathan, who, chained and fettered,\nlanguished in a close, poorly-ventilated cell, with little hope of\ndeliverance. Yusuf knew the rancor of the Meccans against the Jews, and\nsomewhat feared the result, yet he did not give up hope.\n\n\"We are praying for him,\" Nathan's wife would say. \"Nathan and Yusuf are\npraying too, and we know that whatever happens must be best, since God\nhas willed it so for us.\"\n\nLittle Manasseh chafed more than anyone at the long suspense. One day he\nsaid:\n\n\"Mother, my name means blackness, sorrow, or something like that, does\nit not? Why did you call me Manasseh? Was it to be an omen of my life?\"\n\n\"Forbid that it should!\" the mother exclaimed, passing her hand lovingly\nthrough his waving hair. \"It must have been because of your curls, black\nas a raven's wing. Sorrow will not be always. Joy may come soon; but if\nnot, 'at eventide it shall be light.'\"\n\n\"Does that mean in heaven?\" he asked.\n\n\"He has prepared for us a mansion in the heavens, an house not made with\nhands. 'There shall be no night there,' and 'sorrow and sighing shall\nflee away,'\" said the mother with a far-away look in her eyes.\n\n\"But it seems so long to wait, mother,\" said the boy impatiently.\n\n\"Yet heaven is not far away, Manasseh,\" she returned, quickly. \"Heaven\nis wherever God is. And have we not him with us always? 'In all thy ways\nacknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.' Never forget that,\nManasseh.\"\n\n\"Well, I wish we were a little happier now,\" he would say; and then, to\ndivert the boy's attention from his present troubles, his mother would\ntell him about her happy home in Palestine, where she and her little\nsister, Lois, had watched their sheep on the green hillsides, and woven\nchains of flowers to put about the neck of their pet lamb; of how they\ngrew up, and Lois married the Bedouin Musa, and had gone far away.\n\nThus far, Yusuf knew nothing of this connection of Nathan's family with\nhis Bedouin friends. It was yet to prove another link in the chain which\nwas binding him so closely to this godly family. His many occupations,\nand the feeling which impelled him at every spare moment to seek for\nsome clue which would lead to Nathan's liberation, left him little time\nfor conversation with them for the present, except to see that their\nwants were supplied.\n\nThen, too, he was troubled about Amzi, and somewhat anxious about the\nresult of Mohammed's proclamations, which were now beginning to be\nnoised abroad. From holding meetings in caves and private houses, the\n\"prophet\" had begun to preach on the streets, and from the top of the\nlittle eminence Safa, near the foot of Abu Kubays.\n\nMany of the people of Mecca held him up to ridicule, and treated his\ndeclarations with derisive contempt. Among his strongest opponents were\nhis own kindred, the Koreish, of the line of Haschem and of the rival\nline of Abd Schems. The head of the latter tribe, Abu Sofian, Mohammed's\nuncle, was especially bitter. He was a formidable foe, as he lived in\nthe highlands, his castles being built on precipitous rocks, and manned\nby a set of wild and savage Arabs.\n\nYet Mohammed went on, neither daunted by fear nor discouraged by\nsarcasm. The number of his followers steadily increased; his first\nconverts, Ali, his cousin, and Zeid, his faithful servant, being quickly\njoined by many others.\n\nMohammed now boldly proclaimed the message delivered to him in the cave\nof Hira the Koran. He declared that the law of Moses had given way to\nthe Gospel, and that the Gospel was now to give way to the Koran; that\nthe Savior was a great prophet, but was not divine; and that he,\nMohammed, was to be the last and greatest of all the prophets.\n\nSuch assertions were usually received with shouts of derision; and yet,\nwhen Mohammed eloquently upheld fairness and sincerity in all public and\nprivate dealings, and urged the giving of alms, and the living of a pure\nand humble life, there were those who, like Amzi, felt that there was\nsomething worthy of admiration in the new prophet's religion; and his\nvery firmness and sincerity, even when spat upon, and covered with mud\nthrown upon him as he prayed in the Caaba, won for him friends.\n\nThe opposition of his uncles, Abu Lahab and Abu Sofian, was, however,\ncarried on with the greatest rancor; and at last a decree was issued by\nAbu Sofian forbidding the tribe of the Koreish from having any\nintercourse whatever with Mohammed. This decree was written on\nparchment, and hung up in the Caaba, and Mohammed was ultimately forced\nto flee from the city. He and his disciples went for refuge to the\nravine of Abu Taleb, at some distance from Mecca. Here they would have\nsuffered great want, had it not been for the kindness of Amzi, who\nmanaged to send them food in secret.\n\nBut the prophet's zeal never flagged. When the Ramadhan again came\nround, and it was safe to venture from his temporary retreat, he came\nboldly into the city, preached again from the hill Safa, and proclaimed\nhis new revelations, praying for the people, and ending every prayer\nwith the declaration now universal throughout the Moslem world,--\n\n\"God! There is no God but he, the ever-living! He sleepeth not, neither\ndoth he slumber! To him belong the heavens and the earth, and all that\nthey contain. Who shall intercede with him unless by his permission? His\nsway extendeth over the heavens and the earth, and to sustain them both\nis no burthen to him. He is the High, the Mighty!\"\n\nThe sublimity of this eulogy of the Most High may be readily traced to\nthe psalms, particularly to that grandest of all songs, the one hundred\nand fourth psalm, which has been said to be remarkable in that it\nembraces the whole cosmos. And, in fact, the whole trend of the Koran\nmay be traced to a study of the Bible, particularly to the New\nTestament, with occasional digressions into the Mishnu, and the Talmud\nof the Hebrews.\n\n\"Feed the hungry! Visit the sick! Bow not to idols! Pray constantly, and\ndirect thy prayers immediately to the Deity!\" These were the constant\nexhortations of the prophet during these first days of his\nministry--exhortations which demand the admiration of all who consider\nthe grossness and idolatry of the age in which he lived. Had he never\ngone further, succeeding ages might have been tempted to pardon his\nhallucinations. At the time, doctrines which savored of so much\nmagnanimity, and which were immeasurably in advance of the mockery of\nreligion that had so long held sway among the majority of the Arabs, at\nonce commended themselves to many. The effect of the new teaching was\nenhanced by the burning enthusiasm and powerful oratory of Mohammed, who\nwas not ignorant of the effect of eloquent delivery and glowing language\non a people ever passionate and keenly susceptible to the influence of a\nstrong and vivid presentation.\n\nRidicule and persecution ceased for a time, and at last, when the decree\nwas removed, Mohammed and his followers returned in triumph to Mecca.\n\nOnce again he was obliged to fly for his life. Accompanied by Zeid, he\nwent to Tayf, and there spent a month in its perfumed vales, wandering\nby cooling streams, meditating beneath the waving fronds of the\npalm-trees, or resting in cool gardens, lulled by the rustling leaves of\nthe nebeck (the lotus-tree), and inhaling the fresh perfume of peach and\napple blooms.\n\nBut the inhabitants of Tayf grew hostile, and the prophet again set out\non foot for Mecca. He sat down to rest in an orchard. There he dreamed\nthat a host of genii waited before him, begging him to teach them El\nIslam.\n\nIn the night[8] he arose and proceeded, with renewed courage, on his\njourney. On the way he fell in with some pilgrims from Yathrib, or\nMedina, and to them he unfolded his revelations. They listened\nspell-bound as he preached from Al Akaba, and besought him that he would\ncome or would send disciples with them to their northern town.\nAccordingly, Mohammed chose several converts to accompany them upon this\nfirst mission, and a time was set for their going.\n\nOn the evening preceding this appointed time, Yusuf sat in a hanging\nbalcony of Amzi's house. The pink flush of the setting sun was over the\nsky; the murmur of the city arose with a subdued hum--\"the city's stilly\nsound\"; a parchment containing a part of the Scriptures was on the\npriest's knee, but he stopped reading and gave himself up to meditation,\nwondering deeply at the strange course that events were taking, and\nsurmising vaguely the probable result of the revolution that seemed\nimpending.\n\nHis thoughts turned to Amzi, who, as yet, closed his ears to the Gospel\ntidings which were proving such a comfort and joy to the priest.\n\nA step sounded behind him. It was Amzi himself, attired in traveling\ngarb, and with his camel-stick already in his hand.\n\n\"What now, friend Yusuf? Dreaming still?\" he said. \"Will you not say\nfarewell to your friend?\"\n\n\"What! Are you going on a journey? Pray, where goes Amzi on such short\nnotice?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" smiled Amzi, \"I almost fear to tell my Persian proselyte, lest the\nvials of his wrath be poured on my defenceless and submissive head. To\nmake a long story short, I go with the disciples of Mohammed to Medina.\"\n\n\"As Mohammed's disciple? Amzi, has it come to this!\" exclaimed the\npriest.\n\n\"Chain your choler, my friend,\" laughed the other. \"I merely go to\nobserve the outcome of this movement in the town of the North. Besides,\nthe heat of Mecca in this season oppresses me, and I long for the cool\nbreezes of Medina. Yusuf, I shall have rare letters to write you, for I\nfeel that there will be a mighty movement in favor of Mohammed there.\"\n\n\"You begin to believe in him, Amzi!\" said Yusuf in tones of deepest\nconcern.\n\n\"His doctrines suit me, as containing many noble precepts. His\nproclamations are moving the town in such a way as was never known\nheretofore.\"\n\n\"Consider the movement caused by the teaching of Christ when he was on\nearth!\" cried Yusuf. \"Dare you compare this petty tempest with that?\"\n\n\"Yet Christ's very words have been here where all might read them, for\nlong enough. Why have they not drawn the attention of, and, if divine,\nwhy have they not shown their power among, our citizens?\"\n\n\"Because ye have eyes that see not, and ears that hear not!\" cried the\npriest impetuously. \"Can you not see that the doctrines of the\nScriptures are just those which Mohammed proclaims? He seizes upon them,\nhe gives them as his own, because he knows they are good, yet he commits\nthe sacrilege of posing as a divine agent! Good cannot come out of this\nexcept in so far as a few precepts of the Gospel, all plagiarized as\nthey are, exert their influence upon the lives of people.\"\n\nAmzi looked inconvincible. \"I grant the excellence of Gospel teaching,\"\nhe said, \"but your conception of God's love I cannot seem to feel, often\nas you have explained it to me. Mohammed's revelations appear plausible.\nYet, look not so doleful, brother. Amzi has not become a Mohammedan. He\nis still ready to believe as soon as he can see.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; like Thomas, you must see and feel ere you will believe. God\ngrant that the seeing and feeling may not come too late!\"\n\nAmzi smiled, and passed his arm affectionately about the priest's\nshoulder. \"What a thorn in the flesh to you is Amzi the benevolent,\" he\nsaid, kindly. \"Notwithstanding, give me your blessing, priest. Give me\ncredit for being, at least, honest, and bid me good speed before I go.\"\n\n\"Heaven forbid that aught but blessing from Yusuf should ever follow\nAmzi!\" returned the other, warmly. \"May heaven keep and direct you, my\nfriend, my brother!\"\n\nThe friends embraced, according to the custom of the land, and\nseparated; Amzi to join the half-naked pilgrims, who had not yet donned\ntheir traveling-robes, Yusuf to lift his heart to Heaven, as he now did\nin every circumstance. In this silent talk to God he received comfort,\nand his heart was filled with hope for Amzi.\n\nEven this journey, which seemed so inauspicious, might, he thought, be\nbut the beginning of a happy end. He had learned that there are no\ntrifles in life; that no event is so insignificant that God may not make\nuse of it. He felt that Amzi was not utterly indifferent to the\ninfluence of divine power, so he waited in patience.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nWHEREIN IS TOLD THE STORY OF NATHAN'S LIBERATION.\n\n    \"The winds, as at their hour of birth,\n      Leaning upon the ridged sea,\n    Breathed low around the rolling earth\n      With mellow preludes, 'We are free.'\"\n\n                              --_Tennyson._\n\n\nDuring all this time, there was no news of release for poor Nathan. In\nhis close cell, ventilated by one little window, and, in the fetid odor\nof its air, he pined away. A low fever had rendered him exceedingly\nweak; he could not eat the wretched food of the prison; his face grew\nhaggard, and his bones shone through the flesh with almost skeleton-like\ndistinctness. Yet no murmur passed his lips.\n\nFrom his window, set high in the wall, he could see the sun as it rose\nover Abu Kubays; he could catch the occasional glint of a bright wing as\na dove or a swallow flitted past beneath the white sky; and he said,\n\"God is still good, blessed be his name!\"\n\nYet the grief of being separated from his loved ones, and the\nuncertainty of their welfare, preyed upon his mind, almost shaking the\ntrust which had upheld him so long. It was a time of trial for poor\nNathan, yet his faith came forth from the trial untarnished.\n\nYusuf sought in vain to gain admission to the poor prisoner: the utmost\nthat he could accomplish was to pay the attendant for carrying one\nbrief message to him, assuring him that his wife and children were well,\nand cared for.\n\nThe mystery of the gold cup was still unsolved. One day, however, when\ngoing down one of the busiest streets, Yusuf saw, at some distance, a\nlittle man walking along with a pack on his back. The peculiar hopping\nmotion of his gait proclaimed him at once to be Abraham, the little Jew.\n\n\"The very man!\" thought Yusuf. \"If any one between Syria and Yemen can\nferret out a mystery, it is Abraham the peddler. If I can once set him\nin earnest upon the track, deliverance may be speedy for poor Nathan.\"\n\nThe peddler was walking very rapidly, but Yusuf strode after him, now\nlosing sight of him in the crowd, now catching a glimpse of his little\nbobbing figure, until, out of breath, he finally reached him and caught\nhis arm.\n\nThe Jew started in surprise. \"Defend us, friend!\" he exclaimed. \"You\ncome on a man like the poison-wind, as quickly if not as deadly. So you\nare still in Mecca! What are you doing now?\"\n\nHe was as inquisitive as ever, but Yusuf did not resent the trait in him\nnow.\n\n\"I am on important business just at present, my friend,\" he said, in his\nkindliest tone, \"on business in which I am sure Abraham the Jew can help\nme, better than any other man in Mecca.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" exclaimed the peddler, \"and what may that be?\"\n\n\"Can you keep a still tongue when it is necessary, Jew?\"\n\nThe peddler placed his fingers on his lips, rolled up his eyes, and\nnodded assent.\n\n\"Then come with me to the house of Amzi the benevolent,--my Meccan\nhome,--and I shall explain.\"\n\nWhen seated comfortably on divans in the coolest part of the house,\nYusuf told the story of the gold cup, and intimated that Abraham's\nwandering life and the numberless throngs of people with whom his trade\nthrew him in contact, gave him facilities, impossible to others, of\ndoing a little detective work in a quiet way.\n\nThe Jew listened, silent and motionless, with his eyes fixed on a\nlotus-bud carved on the cornice. Only once did he turn and fix his\nlittle round eyes sharply on the priest's face.\n\n\"There is just one more thing--\" continued Yusuf, then he stopped. He\nwas about to tell of the little carnelian stone, when his eye fell upon\none of the numerous rings upon the Jew's fat fingers. There, in the\ncenter of it, was a small cavity from which, apparently, a jewel of some\nsort had fallen from its setting.\n\nYusuf almost sprang to his feet in the excitement of the discovery.\n\n\"Well?\" asked the Jew, noting the pause.\n\n\"I will tell you later,\" said Yusuf. \"For the present--have some dates,\nwill you not?\"\n\nA servant entered with a tray on which were fruits and small cakes.\n\nThe peddler besought Yusuf, for friendship's sake, to eat with him; but\nthe Persian made a gesture of disgust.\n\n\"I have already eaten,\" he said. \"Overeating in Mecca in the hot season\nis not wise. Abraham, do you always wear so many rings on your fingers?\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" returned the Jew, \"sometimes I wear them; sometimes I carry\nthem for months in my belt. This\"--pointing to a huge band of ancient\nworkmanship--\"is the most curious one of the lot. I got it for carrying\na bundle of manuscript from a man at Oman to your friend Amzi, here. It\nseems that Amzi had once lived with him at Oman, but the man--I forget\nhis name--went inland to Teheran, or some other place in Persia, and\nAmzi, after traveling about for two or three years, settled in Mecca.\nThis one\"--and he pointed out the ring on which Yusuf's eyes were\nfixed--\"is the most expensive of the lot, but a stone fell out of it\nonce when I was carrying it in my belt.\"\n\n\"Did you not look in your belt for it?\"\n\n\"No use; it had worked out between the stitches. I had no idea where I\nlost it.\"\n\n\"Have you had that ring long?\"\n\n\"Long! Why, that ring has not been off my person for fifteen years.\"\n\n\"I suppose you would not sell it?\"\n\nThe peddler shrugged his shoulders, and looked up with a shrewd glance.\n\n\"That depends on how much money it would bring.\"\n\n\"I have little idea of the value of such rings,\" said the Persian, \"but\nI have a friend who, I am convinced, would appreciate that one. I should\nlike to present it to him. Will you take this for it?\"\n\nHe drew forth a coin worth three times the value of the ring. The\npeddler immediately closed the bargain and handed the ring over, then\ndevoted his attention again to the table.\n\nThe priest went to the window. He drew the little stone from his bosom\nand slipped it into the cavity. It fitted exactly. He then walked back\nto the table, and held it before the astonished Jew.\n\n\"How now, Jew?\" he said with a smile. \"Saw you such a gem before?\"\n\n\"My very own carnelian!\" exclaimed the peddler. \"Where did you find it?\"\n\n\"You are sure it is yours?\"\n\n\"Sure! On my oath, it is mine. There is not another such stone in\nArabia, with that streak across the top.\"\n\nThe priest laid his hand on the Jew's shoulder and bent close to him.\n\"That stone,\" he said, \"was found in the house of Nathan the Jew, beside\nthe stolen cup. How came it there?\"\n\nThe little Jew turned pale. His guilt showed in his face. He knew that\nhe was undone.\n\nWith a quick, serpent-like movement, he attempted to escape, but the\npriest's grasp was firm as a vise.\n\n\"No, peddler!\" he said, \"you may go, but it must be with me. To the\nmagistrate you must go, and that right speedily. The innocent must no\nlonger suffer in your rightful place. Come, Aza,\"--to an attendant who\nhad been in the room--\"your tongue may be needed to supplement mine.\"\n\nThe Jew's little eyes rolled around restlessly. He was a thorough\ncoward, and his teeth chattered with fear as he was half-dragged into\nthe blinding glare of the street, and down the long, crooked way, with a\ncrowd of beggars and saucy boys following in the wake of the trio. Once\nor twice again he made a quick and sudden movement to elude the grasp of\nhis captors, but the priest's grip was firm and his muscle like steel.\nJustice was in Yusuf's heart, and his anxiety to procure Nathan's\nrelease was so great that he strode on, almost forgetting the poor\nlittle Jew, who was obliged to keep up a constant hobbling run to save\nhimself from being dragged to the ground.\n\nIn the hall of justice the usual amount of questioning went on, but the\nevidence afforded by the ring was so conclusive that the order for\nNathan's release and the peddler's imprisonment was soon given.\n\nYusuf accompanied the guards to Nathan's cell. The poor prisoner was\nsitting on the bare clay with his head buried on his knee. An unusual\nclamor sounded outside of the door. The heavy bolt was withdrawn, and\nthe next moment Yusuf rushed in, crying, \"Free, Nathan, free!\"\n\nNathan fell on the other's bosom. The sudden joy was too much for him,\nand he could only lie, like a little child, sobbing on the breast of the\nstalwart priest.\n\nThe warden rattled the bolts impatiently. \"Come, there's room outside!\"\nhe said. \"I have not time to stand here all day!\"\n\n\"Pardon us,\" said the priest, gently. \"We go; yet, warden, ere we\ndepart, may I ask you to deal leniently with that poor wretch?\" and he\npointed to the Jew, who was now crouched shivering in his chains.\n\n\"We but do as we are ordered,\" returned the warden unfeelingly. \"The\nofficers will be here presently with the scourge; we can not prevent\nthat.\"\n\nThe peddler winced, and Nathan raised a face full of pity. \"Warden,\" he\nsaid, \"if you have a drop of mercy in your heart, if you hope for mercy\nfor yourself, treat him as a man. Let him not die for want of a pittance\nof water.\"\n\nHe turned the sleeve of his loose garment back to expose the emaciated\narm with the bones showing through the loose skin. \"There,\" he said,\n\"let that touch your heart, if heart you have, and spare him. Poor\nAbraham!\"--turning to the peddler--\"did I not see you here, the joy of\nmy release would be unspeakable.\"\n\nBut Abraham only turned to bestow a look of hate and malice upon the\npriest.\n\nThen Yusuf and Nathan passed out into the pure, fresh air, now growing\ncool with the approach of evening. Never did air seem so pure and sweet;\nnever did swallows twitter so gladly; never did the peak of Abu Kubays\nshine so gloriously in the sun; never did the voices of people sound so\njoyous or their faces beam so brightly.\n\n\"Come,\" said Nathan, \"to my wife and children, that we may all return\nthanks together. Verily 'Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but\nthe Lord delivereth him out of them all.' 'Blessed be God, which hath\nnot turned away my prayer, nor his mercy from me.' 'I had fainted unless\nI had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the\nliving.' 'My flesh faileth, but God is the strength of my heart, and my\nportion forever.'\"\n\nSo, uttering exclamations from the pages of Scripture, did the devout\nJew pass onward to his home, which was once more filled with \"joy and\ngladness, thanksgiving and the voice of melody.\" Before leaving, Yusuf\npresented him with the ring containing the little stone, as a memento of\nhis deliverance.\n\nAnd Abraham? He received the full weight of the scourge; and may we be\npardoned in anticipating, and say that for two days he lay nursing his\nwrath and his wounds; but, on the third day after his imprisonment, his\nagility suddenly returned. He managed in some inexplicable way known\nonly to himself to work free of his fetters, and when the keeper came\nwith food in the evening, blinded by the dim light of the cell, he did\nnot perceive the little peddler crouched in a heap in the middle of the\nfloor.\n\nScarcely was the door opened when the Jew bounced like a ball past the\nkeeper's feet, almost upsetting him; then, darting like an arrow between\nthe astonished guards without, he was off. A hue and cry was raised, but\nthe little peddler had disappeared as completely as if the earth had\nopened up and swallowed him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nAMZI AT MEDINA.\n\n    \"With half-shut eyes ever to seem\n    Falling asleep in a half dream!\n    To dream and dream like yonder amber light\n    Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height.\"\n\n                              --_Tennyson._\n\n\nWithout entering into detail it may be briefly stated that the success\nof Mohammed's disciples in Medina was simply marvelous. Converts joined\nthem every day, while those who were not prepared to believe in the\nMeccan's divine mission were at least anxious to see and hear the\nprophet.\n\nAmzi did no work in behalf of the new religion. He was simply an\nonlooker, though not an unsympathetic one; and, it must be confessed, he\nspent most of his time in that voluptuous do-nothingness in which the\nwealthy Oriental dreams away so much of his time,--sitting or reclining\non perfumed cushions, a fan in his hand and a long pipe at his mouth,\ntoo languid, too listless, even to talk; listening to the soft murmur of\nNature's music, the night-wind sighing through the trees beneath a\nstar-gemmed sky, the song of a solitary bulbul warbling plaintively\namong the myrtle and oleander blooms, the plash of a fountain rippling\nnear with \"a sound as of a hidden brook in the leafy month of June\";\nthis, the exquisite languor of the East, \"for which the speech of\nEngland has no name,\" the \"Kaif\" of the Arab, the drowsy falseness of\nthe Lotos-eaters' ideal:\n\n    \"Death is the end of life; ah, why\n    Should life all labor be?\n    Let us alone.\"\n\nAnd so the months went by, until at last a band of emissaries, to the\nnumber of seventy, was appointed to take a journey to Mecca for the\npurpose of meeting with Mohammed and discussing with him the\nadvisability of his taking up his residence at Medina.\n\nA herald brought news of this embassy to the prophet. He went forth to\nmeet them, and Yusuf, hearing by chance of the appointed conference, set\nout posthaste after Mohammed's party, eager to get even a pressure of\nthe hand from Amzi, his heart's brother, who he felt sure would\naccompany the emissaries. In order to overtake them more quickly, he\nproceeded with a trusty guide by a shorter route across the hills.\n\nThe night was exceptionally dark, and even the guide became confused.\nThe way led on and on between the interminable hills, until the two in\ncomplete uncertainty reined their steeds on the verge of a cliff that\nseemed to overhang a deep and narrow basin, bounded by flinty rock which\neven in the darkness loomed doubly black, and which rang beneath the\nhorses' feet with that peculiar, metallic sound that proclaimed it black\nbasalt, the \"hell-stone\" of the Arabs.\n\nIt was indeed an eerie spot. A thick fringe of thorny shrubs grew along\nthe edge of the cliff; at intervals yawned deep fissures, across which\nthe wise little Arabian ponies stepped gingerly; and above, outlined in\nintense black against the dark sky, were numerous peaks and pinnacles\nand castellated summits, such as the Arabs love to people with all\nmanner of genii and evil spirits of the waste and silent wilderness. It\nwas a spot likely to be infested with robbers, and Yusuf and his guide\nwaited in some trepidation while considering what to do.\n\n[Illustration: \"Hold!\" cried a voice from the air above.--See page 34.]\n\nPresently a dull trampling sounded in the distance. It came nearer and\nnearer, and the two lone wanderers on the cliff scarcely dared to\nbreathe.\n\nThe tread of camels was soon discernible, the \"Ikh! Ikh!\" (the sound\nused to make camels kneel) of the camel-drivers rising from the dark\npass below to the ears of the men above. Apparently the party was about\nto make a halt in the dark basin; and should it prove to be a band of\nhill-robbers, Yusuf and his companion were in a precarious position, for\nthe slightest sound made by them or their ponies would probably prove\nthe signal for an onslaught; but by patting and quieting the animals,\nthey managed to keep their restlessness in check and so waited, scarcely\nknowing what to do next.\n\nEre ten minutes had elapsed, however, the tread of camels was again\nheard, and another party came in from the opposite direction, halting at\nthe other end of the ravine. A call was sounded and at once answered by\nthe body immediately below. The new-comers advanced, and mutual\nrecognitions seemed to take place, although Yusuf could distinguish\nneither the voices nor the words.\n\nThe parties were, in reality, those of Mohammed and the emissaries of\nMedina, who at once opened negotiations. After the salutations were\nover, they extended to Mohammed a formal invitation to Medina.\n\n\"We will receive you as a confederate, obey you as a leader, and defend\nyou to the last extremity, even as we defend our wives and children,\"\nsaid the spokesman.\n\n\"For your gracious invitation accept my most hearty thanks,\" said\nMohammed. \"My work is not yet ended in Mecca, yet ere long I hope to pay\nat least a visit to you, O believers of Medina.\"\n\n\"But,\" said the leader, \"if you are recalled to your own district you\nwill not forsake us?\"\n\n\"All things,\" replied Mohammed, \"are now common between us. Your blood\nis my blood. Your ruin is my ruin. We are bound to each other by the\nties of honor and interest. I am your friend and the enemy of your\nfoes.\"\n\nHe then chose twelve of the men to be the especial heralds of his faith,\nand all, placing their hands in his, swore fealty to him in life and in\ndeath.\n\n\"If we are killed in your service, what shall be our reward?\" asked one\nof the number.\n\n\"Paradise!\" cried the prophet. \"Vales of eternal rest and felicity,\nodors of sweet spices on the air, blessed spirits to--\"\n\n\"Hold!\" cried a voice from the air above. \"Who are you, Mohammed, who\ncan dare to promise that which belongs to the Creator alone? Impostor,\ntake heed!\"\n\nIt was only Yusuf, who, in his anxiety to discover if the gloomy vale\nwere indeed the nest of some daring mountain chief, had noiselessly\ndescended to an overhanging ledge, and had heard the last confident\nassertion of the prophet.\n\nBut the utmost consternation fell upon the Arabs below. Some, believing\nthe voice to be that of a demon of the rock, were seized with sudden\npanic; others shouted excitedly, \"Spies! spies!\" and the assembly broke\nup in confusion, all scurrying off, leaving Yusuf and his guide again\nalone on the rock.\n\n\"Amzi! Amzi!\" shouted the priest, with a forlorn hope that his friend\nmight have lingered behind the fleeing party; but the only response was\nthe beat of hoofs flying in every direction, and the dull thud of the\ncamels' padded feet. There was nothing better to be done than wait until\nmorning, so Yusuf and the guide lay down on the hard rock for the rest\nof the night.\n\nFor some time after this affairs seemed to be at a standstill. Mohammed\nstill continued to preach, now from the hill Safa, now from the knoll El\nAkaba at the north of the town.\n\nHis wife, Cadijah, had died some time before, and he had since married a\nwidow, Sawda, and become betrothed to a child, Ayesha, the daughter of\nhis friend and disciple, Abu Beker.\n\nBut events in Mecca were fast hastening to a crisis. Abu Sofian, still\nthe most mortal enemy to Mohammed and his religion, had succeeded Abu\nTaleb in the government of Mecca, and no sooner had he become head of\nthe state than he determined to crush Mohammed, and exterminate his\nreligion at any cost. A plot for the assassination of the prophet was\nformed. Several of the tribe of the Koreish and their allies were\nappointed to kill Mohammed, in order to avert the blood-revenge of\nMohammed's immediate kin, the Haschemites, who, it was thought, would\nnot dare to avenge themselves upon such numerous and such scattered\nfoes.\n\nThe attack was planned with the utmost secrecy in the cellar of a house,\nand at a time but the space of three hours before daybreak, when all\nMecca lay chained in slumber.\n\nYet not all. Abraham, the Jew, was, as usual, on the alert. Since his\nescape he had been prowling about the hills, penniless, and hence unable\nto leave the district. He had now come down to steal food, for\nnecessity, in his eyes, rendered any such proceeding pardonable; and,\nperceiving a mysterious light issuing from a chink in the wall, his\nnatural curiosity asserted itself. He lay down flat on the ground, put\nhis ear to the chink, and succeeded in hearing every word of the plot.\n\nHere, then, was a chance to gain favor and protection from at least a\nfew in Mecca. He would disclose the plot to Mohammed and his vizier, and\nbeseech their protection as the price of his services as a savior of the\nprophet's life. Accordingly, a couple of hours before the time appointed\nfor the assassination, and as soon as the cover of darkness rendered his\nown appearance in the city safe, he hastened to the prophet.\n\nNo time was to be lost. Mohammed, accompanied by Abu Beker and the Jew,\nat once fled; while Ali, to deceive the spies, and keep them as long as\npossible in check, wrapped himself in the prophet's green cloak, moved\nround with it on for some time, and at last lay down on Mohammed's bed.\n\nWhen the assassins entered, intending to rush upon the sleeping form\nand destroy it, Ali threw the cloak off and sat up. In the meantime the\nfugitives had reached the cave of Thor, three miles distant, from\nwhence, after three days, they escaped to Medina.\n\nThis was the famous flight of the prophet, the Hegira, or Hejra, in the\nyear 622 A.D. and about the fifty-third year of Mohammed's age.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nMOHAMMED'S ENTRANCE INTO MEDINA.\n\n                  \"Oh, it is excellent\n    To have a giant's strength: but it is tyrannous\n    To use it like a giant.\"\n\n                              --_Shakespeare._\n\n\nOnce more after the lapse of years let us look at Amzi as he sat one\nmorning in his house at Medina.\n\nThe cool and pleasant atmosphere of the town in contrast with the\nburning, breathless heat of Mecca had charmed him. He had immediately\npurchased a house and furnished it with the luxurious splendor which\nsuited his rather voluptuous taste.\n\nThe apartment in which he sat was in the middle story, the one sacred to\nthe men in a house of Medina. Rich Persian carpets were on the floor,\nrugs of Inde were scattered about and piled with cushions filled with\nsoftest down. Low divans invited repose, and heavy curtains of yellow\nsilk shut out the too bright glare of day. The ceiling, after the\nPersian fashion, was inlaid with mirrors, fitted in in different\npatterns, and divided by carved sticks of palm, stained red; and the\nsweet odor of richest perfumes of Arabia-Felix spread through the room\nas if emanating from the silken hangings of the wall.\n\nThe window was open, and the breeze from the east, bearing, as it were,\ntales of the Nejd, the land of brave men and beautiful women, swayed\nthe curtains softly. Outside, in the sloping garden, waved the graceful\nbranches of the tamarisk, glittering with dew in the early morning sun;\nand near the window a jujube tree stretched its dark, shining leaves and\nyellow fruit temptingly near. Acacias with sweet-scented yellow\nblossoms, oleanders glowing with rosy bloom, and a thicket of\nsilver-leaved castors separated the little plot from the gardens below,\nwhere grew gourds and cucumbers, lime and fig trees, grape-vines,\nwater-melons and pomegranates; and beyond that lay a bright patch of\nBursim, or Egyptian clover, like a yellow-green island on a darker sea.\n\nAmzi, comfortably habited in a jubbeh of pink silk, worn over a caftan\nof fine white silk flowered with green and confined by a fringed, yellow\nsash at the waist, reclined in a position of luxurious ease at the\nwindow. Between his plump fingers he held the amber stem of a handsomely\ncarved pipe. He looked scarcely older than when on that memorable\njourney in which he first met Yusuf. His eye was still as bright, his\nhair scarcely more gray, and his cheek as ruddy as then; yet there was a\nsomewhat discontented look on his face.\n\nHis eye wandered over the rich garden before him, and he thought of\nbarren, ashen Mecca. Then he looked restlessly back over the landscape\nbelow. Surely it was fair enough to calm a restless spirit.\n\nImmediately before, and to the eastward, the sun had risen out of a mass\nof lilac and rose-colored cloud. The tufted trees on the distant hills\nstood black and distinct against the splendor of the sky. To the right\nthe date-groves of Kuba, famed throughout Arabia, struggled through a\nsea of mist that piled and surged in waves of amber and purple, leaving\nthe tree tops like islands on a vapory sea. To the left the seared and\nscoriae-covered crest of Mount Ohod rose, dark and scowling, like a grim\nsentinel on the borders of an Elysian valley. In the rear lay the plain\nof El Munakhah, and the rush of the torrent El Sayh was borne on the\nbreeze, bearing the willing mind beyond to the cool groves of Kuba,\nwhence this raging flood dispersed itself in gentle rills, or was\ncarried in silent channels to turn the water-wheels, or to fall, with\nmusical plash, into wooden troughs that lay deep in the shade.\n\nThe ripple of water,--ah, what it means to Arabian ears! Little wonder\nthat the inhabitant of the desert land never omits it from his idea of\nparadise, save in his conception of the highest heaven,--a conception\nnot lacking in sublimity--that of a silent looking upon the face of God.\n\nIn the immediate foreground lay El Medina itself, with its narrow\nstreets, its busy bazars, its fair-skinned people, and its low, yellow,\nflat-roofed houses, each with its well and court-yard, nestling cozily\namong the feathery-fronded date-trees.\n\nFrom the Eastern Road, a caravan from the Nejd was descending slowly\ninto the town, and so clear was the atmosphere that Amzi could\ndistinguish the huge, white dromedaries, and catch an occasional glint\nof a green shugduf, or the gorgeous litter of a grandee, trapped in\nscarlet and gold.\n\nIt was indeed a fair scene, and Amzi enjoyed it to the full with the\nkeen enjoyment of one who possesses an esthetic temperament, an intense\nlove of the beautiful. Yet he began to feel lonely in this town of his\nadoption. It was long since he had seen Yusuf, and he commenced to think\nseriously of returning for a time to Mecca.\n\nBesides, he was tired of waiting for Mohammed's long-deferred visit, and\nhe was anxious again to see the man whose strange fascination over him\nhe scarcely dared to acknowledge even to himself. The emptiness and\nidleness of his own life was beginning to pall upon him, and he compared\nunfavorably his sluggish existence with the busy, quietly energetic way\nin which Yusuf was spending his days.\n\nOne source of unfailing pleasure to him had been the companionship of\nDumah, who had followed him to Medina, but was wandering about as usual,\nreturning to Amzi when tired or hungry, as a birdling returns to its\nmother's wing.\n\nAnd Amzi had almost a mother's love for the boy, for poor Dumah seemed a\nchild still; he had grown but little, his face was paler than of old,\nhis eyes were as large and blue, and his bright hair fell in the same\nsoft curls above his regular and clear-cut features. Like Yusuf, Amzi\nfelt that the orphan's very helplessness was an appeal to his heart, and\nhe did not lock its doors.\n\nDumah now came in wearily. He lay down at Amzi's feet and put his head\non his knee. The Meccan stroked his soft hair gently.\n\n\"Where has my Dumah been?\" he asked tenderly.\n\n\"Watching the people going out foolishly. Dumah would not go with them.\"\n\n\"Going where, lad?\"\n\n\"Out to the gardens where the lotus blows, and the date-palms wave, and\nthe citron and orange grow.\"\n\n\"And why go they, then, foolishly?\" smiled Amzi.\n\n\"Because they go to meet him, and they are carrying white robes, and\nthey will bring him in as a prince,--the wicked one, who would place\nhimself above our blessed Master!\"\n\nAmzi started up quickly, and threw his pipe down.\n\n\"Is Mohammed here?\" he cried.\n\n\"He is here. But you will not go too, Amzi? Alas that I told you! The\nangels I see in my dreams do not smile, they look away and vanish when I\nthink of Mohammed. Yusuf does not love him! Let not Amzi!\" pleaded the\norphan.\n\nBut the Meccan was gone. Hastening on towards the outskirts of the city,\nhe met a great crowd of people, pressing about Mohammed and Abu Beker,\neach of whom was dressed in a white garment, and riding triumphantly\nupon a white camel, the prophet being mounted on his own beast El Kaswa.\n\nThe little peddler, assigning himself a lower place, rode behind on a\npack-mule.\n\nMohammed had come, and was, from the very beginning, a monarch,\nsurrounded by an army of blind devotees, believers in his holy mission,\nand slavishly obedient to his will.\n\nAmzi took the prophet to his house, and there entertained him as a\nrespected Meccan friend, until Mohammed's home was erected. It was at\nAmzi's house, too, that the nuptials of Mohammed and the beautiful\nAyesha, also those of Ali and the prophet's daughter Fatimah, took\nplace.\n\nOne of Mohammed's first acts was to have a mosque built, and, from it,\nmorning and night the call to prayers was given:\n\n\"God is great! There is no God but God! Mohammed is the prophet of God!\nCome to prayers. Come to prayers! God is great!\"\n\nAnd from this mosque Mohammed exhorted with wondrous eloquence, the\nmusic of his voice falling like a spell on the multitudes, as they\nlistened to teachings new and more living than the old, dead,\nsuperstitious idolatry to which they were in bondage; yet, had they\nknown it, teachings whose choicest gems were but crumbs borrowed from\nthe words of One who had preached in all meekness and love on the shores\nof Galilee and the hills of Palestine more than six hundred years\nbefore.\n\nThey listened in wonder to condemnation of their belief in polytheism.\n\n\"In the name of the most merciful God,\" Mohammed would say, \"say God is\none God, the Eternal God; he begetteth not, neither is he begotten, and\nthere is not anyone like unto him!\" Thus did he aim at the foundation of\nChristianity, seeking to overthrow belief in the \"only begotten Son of\nGod\" as a divine factor of the Trinity. Jesus he recognized as a\nprophet, not as God's own Son; and, while he borrowed incessantly from\nthe Scriptures, he refused to accept them, declaring that they had\nbecome perverted, and that the original Koran was a volume of Paradise,\nfrom which Gabriel rendered him transcripts, and was, therefore, the\ntrue word of God which had been laid from time everlasting on what he\ncalled the \"preserved table,\" close to the throne of God in the highest\nheaven.\n\nAnd yet, during the greater part of his career, the utterances of this\nstrange, incomprehensible man were characterized by a seemingly real\nglow of philanthropy and an earnest solicitude for the salvation of his\ncountrymen from the depths of moral and spiritual degradation into\nwhich they had fallen. A missionary spirit seemed to be in him, in\nstrange contrast and incompatibility with the sacrilegious words that\noften fell from his lips.\n\nIn all the records of history there is nothing more wonderful than the\nmarvelous success which attended Mohammed at Medina. Staid and sober\nmerchantmen, men with gray heads, fiery youths, proselytes from the\ntribes of the desert, even women, flocked to him every day; and he soon\nrealized that he had a vast army of converts ready to live or die for\nhim, ready to fight for him until the last.\n\nAmzi, alone, of all his followers, seemed to stand aloof,\nhalf-believing, yet unwilling to proclaim his belief openly; simply\nwaiting, as he had waited all his life, to see the truth, yet too\nindolent to set out bravely in the quest. He preferred to look on from\naside; to weigh and calculate motives, actions and results; to judge men\nby their fruits, though the doing so called for long waiting.\n\nYet Amzi grew more and more dissatisfied. He felt, though he knew not\nits cause, the want of a rich spiritual life, that empty hollowness\nwhich pleasures of the world and the mere consciousness of a moral life\ncannot satisfy.\n\nMore than once he was tempted to declare himself a follower of the\nprophet, but he put it off until a riper season.\n\nPoor Dumah noted Amzi's frequent visits to the mosque with a vague\ndread. He had an instinctive dislike of Mohammed, whose assumptions of\nsuperiority to Jesus he understood in a hazy way, and resented with all\nhis might.\n\nOne day he entered with a tablet of soft stone to which a cord was\nattached. Putting the cord about Amzi's neck, he said:\n\n\"Amzi, promise your Dumah that you will wear this always, will you not?\nBecause Dumah might die, and could not say the words any more. Promise\nme!\"\n\n\"I promise you,\" smiled Amzi, and Dumah left the room contented.\n\nAmzi turned the tablet over, and read the familiar words traced upon the\nsoft stone,--the words recognized as the corner-stone of Christianity:\n\n\"God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that\nwhosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting\nlife.\"\n\nAmzi smiled, and put the tablet in his bosom.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nMOHAMMED BECOMES INTOLERANT.--WAR.\n\n    \"Our virtues disappear when put in competition with our\n    interests, as rivers lose themselves in the ocean.\"--_La\n    Rochefoucauld._\n\n\nThirteen years had now passed since Mohammed first began to meditate in\nthe Cave of Hira. During all that time he had preached peace, love and\ngentleness. With power, however, came a change in his opinions. He\nbecame not only pastor of his flock, and judge of the people, but also\ncommander of an army. Worldly ambition took possession of his breast,\nand the voice of him who had cried, \"Follow the religion of Abraham, who\nwas orthodox and was no idolater. Invite men unto the way of the Lord by\nwisdom and mild exhortation.... Bear opposition with patience, but thy\npatience shall not be practicable unless with God's assistance. And be\nnot thou grieved on account of the unbelievers. Let there be no violence\nin religion,\"--now began to call, \"War is enjoined you against the\ninfidels. Fight therefore against the friends of Satan, for the\nstratagem of Satan is weak. And when the months wherein ye shall not be\nallowed to attack them be past, kill the idolaters wherever ye shall\nfind them, and besiege them, and lay wait for them in every convenient\nplace. Verily God hath purchased of the true believers their souls and\ntheir substance, promising them the enjoyment of Paradise on condition\nthat they fight for the cause of God. Whether they slay or be slain,\nthe promise for the same is assuredly due by the law, and the Gospel,\nand the Koran.\"\n\nClemency, he claimed, had been the instrument of Moses; wisdom, that of\nSolomon; righteousness, that of Christ; and now the sword was to be the\ninstrument of Mohammed.\n\n\"The sword,\" he exclaimed, with flashing eye, \"is the key of heaven and\nhell. All who draw it in the cause of the faith will be rewarded with\ntemporal advantages; every drop shed of their blood, every peril endured\nby them, will be registered on high as more meritorious than fasting or\nprayer. If they fall in battle, their sins will at once be blotted out,\nand they will be transported to paradise!\"\n\nThis fierce, intolerant spirit took possession of Mohammed almost from\nhis entrance into Medina. Chapter after chapter of the Koran was\nproduced, breathing the same blood-thirsty, implacable hatred of\nopposition. Mohammed, in fact, seemed like one possessed in his\nenthusiasm, but his doctrines caught the fancy of the wild,\nimpressionable Arabs, who flocked to him in crowds as his fame spread\nthroughout the length and breadth of El Hejaz, throughout the Nejd, and\neven to the extremities of Arabia-Felix.\n\nAnd now the bloody cloud of war hovered over the peninsula, and the\npeople trembled.\n\nThe following letter from Amzi will describe the outbreak.\n\n                              =A=[9]\n\n    From Amzi the Meccan, at Medina,\n                              To Yusuf the priest, Mecca.\n\n    My Dear Yusuf:--\n\n    I can scarcely describe the emotions with which I write you again\n    after a six months' interval. Affairs here in Medina have taken such\n    an unlooked-for turn that I scarcely know what to think or what to\n    do.\n\n    Of Mohammed's wonderful progress, you have, of course, heard. You\n    should see him now, my dear Yusuf,--Mohammed, the peaceful trader,\n    the devout hermit, now little less than monarch, with all the sway\n    assumed by the most powerful despot; and yet those over whom he\n    wields his despotism are but too willing servants, ready to say as\n    he says, and to give their dearest heart's blood in his cause.\n\n    Indeed I know not what the outcome of it all will be. What\n    astonishes me most is that Mohammed has suddenly assumed an\n    aggressive attitude. Fire and the sword seem to be the watchword of\n    him whom we knew as the gentle husband of Cadijah, the mild preacher\n    who bowed his head and reviled not even when assailed with mud and\n    filth in the Caaba.\n\n    Needless to say, Yusuf, I am disappointed in him. You will be only\n    too glad to hear that. I hear that you have been exhorting the\n    people in Mecca to pay no heed to him; that you have been seeking to\n    promulgate your Hebrew faith, or rather the faith of your Hebrew\n    friend, of whose innocence and release I was glad to hear.\n\n    My brother, I pride in your courage, and in the strength of your\n    principles; yet, Yusuf, I beseech of you, be careful what you do or\n    say, lest you draw down upon your head a storm of fury which you\n    little expect. You have no idea of the revolution of feeling here in\n    Mohammed's favor, and of the fanatic zeal of many of his followers.\n    Be not too bold. You cannot cope single-handed with such an\n    overwhelming tide.\n\n    The past month, as you know, was the holy month Radjab, in which, as\n    in the month of Ramadhan, throughout all El Hejaz, life should be\n    held sacred, and no act of violence committed. Can you believe it\n    when I tell you that the prophet's men have attacked more than one\n    caravan of quiet traders and pilgrims upon their way to or from\n    Mecca? Such a sacrilege seems unpardonable in Arab eyes, but,\n    forsooth, the prophet has been favored with another revelation\n    justifying him in what he has done.\n\n    This, more than aught else, makes me wonder. You, Yusuf, know what a\n    lover of peace I have been; how it has ever grieved me to see even a\n    butterfly fluttering along the ground with a crushed wing. Judge,\n    then, of my horror, when I went out to the scene of the pillage and\n    saw men lying, some dead, with ghastly faces glaring up at the hot\n    sun, others with gaping wounds, and others moaning pitifully on the\n    road-way, with sand on their faces and in their hair. Yusuf, it made\n    me sick to see it. Had they been slain in fair battle I could have\n    borne it better. Yet I was enabled to give the poor wounded\n    creatures some water, all warm as it was from being carried so long\n    a distance; and some of them I had conveyed to my house, so that\n    every bed-chamber has been turned into a sick-room, and your friend\n    Amzi has been suddenly metamorphosed into a sick-nurse. Does that\n    astonish you?\n\n    Yet, Yusuf, though I get little sleep any night, and have to be on\n    my feet much during the day, I can assure you that I was never so\n    happy in my life before. The constant occupation, and the sense of\n    being able to render the poor creatures a little ease, is just what\n    I need at present to keep me from growing moody.\n\n    The other day I saw some one who knows of you--Uzza, the Oman Arab.\n    How or why he has come here I know not; but he is one of Mohammed's\n    most devoted followers. For your sake, I hope you may not meet him\n    in Medina.\n\n    I knew him, years ago, at Oman, and had letters from him for a time\n    after he went to Persia. Perhaps that will read you the riddle as to\n    how I knew so much of your past history, my priest. Recognizing your\n    name, and noting your priestly bearing, it was an easy matter to\n    connect you with the Guebre Yusuf, of whom I had heard.\n\n    I am convinced that you are looking after my Meccan affairs as\n    closely as possible, yet remember that Amzi has a house in Medina,\n    too, which has ever a door open for you.\n\n    Dumah sends his love. The poor lad is greatly excited over the\n    stirring events which are the talk of the town here.\n\n    Commend me to your friend Nathan and his family. Trusting to see or\n    to hear from you soon,\n\n                              And the peace,\n                                          Amzi.\n\nTo this letter Yusuf returned the following answer:\n\n    Yusuf, at Mecca,\n                              To Amzi the Benevolent, Medina.\n\n    My Heart's Brother:--\n\n    Your most welcome letter lies before me, and it is quite unnecessary\n    to say with what mingled feelings of pleasure and pain I read\n    it,--pleasure, because, whether you will it or not, your confidence\n    in this false prophet is tottering; pain, because of the marvelous\n    power which this Mohammed seems to be wielding over your excitable\n    Arab populace. Strange, indeed, is his new attitude; we had not\n    deemed him possessed of a martial spirit; yet may we hope that this\n    procedure will be but as the stone which shall crush his ends,\n    falling upon his own head.\n\n    It is possible that I may be in Medina ere long. I am impatient to\n    see you and our poor Dumah again.\n\n    And so Uzza is there, too, to bring up afresh the darkest page of\n    my history; for Amzi, it was I, in my fanatic zeal, who induced the\n    Persian grandmother to give up his child for sacrifice. Scarcely was\n    it over when, even in my heathen darkness, my whole soul revolted\n    against what I had done, and against the faith which had sanctioned\n    such deeds of blood. It was then that I began to think and strive\n    against the mists of darkness, until at last I fought away from the\n    creed of my country.\n\n    I fear not to meet Uzza, although I know that he bears me no\n    good-will, and would not refrain from the assassin's knife did it\n    satisfy his wish for blood-revenge.\n\n    Our friend, Nathan, and his family are well. Did I tell you that\n    they have gone to live near Tayf?\n\n    I spent a pleasant day with them not long ago. They have a little\n    cabin in the mountains, and Nathan has a few flocks which he herds\n    out on the green hill-sides. They are all so happy, and so contented\n    with their pastoral mode of living that they think of moving back\n    into Palestina, as the pasturage is better there. It will be a long\n    journey, but, with the consciousness of the Father's care over them,\n    and the bond of love to shorten the way, they will not mind it.\n    Nathan's wife, in particular, is anxious to return to her\n    childhood's home, and never wearies of telling her children stories\n    of her girlhood days, when she and her sister, whom she still loves\n    passionately, watched their sheep on the hills of Hebron.\n\n    Mary and Manasseh have grown quite tall. Manasseh is almost a man,\n    fiery and impetuous as ever, yet wise beyond his years, and a devout\n    Christian.\n\n    Nathan is very happy. After all his trials he has perfect rest. His\n    face almost beamed when he said to me in the words of the Psalmist,\n    \"Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in\n    silence. When I said, My foot slippeth, thy mercy, O Lord, held me\n    up. For the Lord is my defence, and my God is the rock of my\n    refuge.\"\n\n    He is very anxious about the hostile attitude which Mohammed has\n    taken. \"God grant,\" he said, \"that there may not be another season\n    of persecution. If there be, and the Lord will, I shall stay at\n    Medina to comfort, if I may, my poor brethren there. 'Blessed are\n    they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the\n    kingdom of heaven.' God grant that we may all be imbued with the\n    spirit of him who said, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse\n    you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that\n    despitefully use you.' Yet, Yusuf, it may be that we shall be forced\n    to defend our lives, and those of our wives and children,--God\n    knoweth. He will direct us, if we permit him, so that, living or\n    dying, it shall be well with us.\"\n\n    Is not such love, such comfort in the help and presence and sympathy\n    of God, worth more, infinitely more, than power or wealth or worldly\n    pleasure? Nothing that happens can overwhelm this happy family, for\n    they have the consciousness of God's love and care in all. They have\n    Jesus for a personal friend. Amzi, what would I not give to know\n    that you felt as they do, and as I learn to feel, more and more,\n    every day.\n\n    My friend, I could keep on in this strain for the whole night; but I\n    am weary, for to-day I talked for many hours with some of those who\n    are half-apostatizing to Mohammed.\n\n    So, Mizpah; and may the blessing of God be upon you.\n\n                                        Yusuf.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nWHEREIN THE BEDOUIN YOUTH KEDAR BECOMES A MOSLEM.\n\n    \"Mine honor is my life: both grow in one;\n    Take honor from me, and my life is done.\"\n\n                              --_Shakespeare._\n\n\nThe scene again opens far to the north of the Nejd, El Shark, or the\nEast. Into one of its most favored spots, a green and secluded valley,\nsurrounded by grassy slopes, the sun shone with the fresh brightness of\nearly morning, sending floods of green-gold light through the leaves Of\nthe acacias, now covered with yellowish blossoms heavy with perfume.\n\nBy the side of a little torrent, rose the black tents of a Bedouin\nencampment. Flocks were on the hill-side, and the tinkling of the\ncamel-bells and soft bleat of the lambs sounded faintly from the\ndistance.\n\nAt the head of the valley, upon a rounded boulder of granite sat a\nwoman; and before her stood a young man to whom she was earnestly\ntalking, at times stretching out her hands as though she were beseeching\nhim for some favor.\n\nThe woman was tall and well-built, her eyes were large and dark, and\ntheir brilliancy increased, according to Bedouin custom, by the\napplication of kohl to the lids. Her face was keen and intelligent, and\nher hair, braided in innumerable small plaits, and surmounted by a much\nbespangled head-dress, was slightly streaked with gray.\n\nThe youth was slight and agile, his every movement full of grace. His\nface was oval, regular in its contour, and full of expression, although\nthe Jewish cast of his features had traces of Arab blood. He seemed to\nbe in some excitement, for, with a trait peculiar to Bedouins, his\nrestless and deep-set eyes were now half-closed until but a narrow,\nglittering line appeared, and now suddenly opened to their fullest\nextent and turned directly upon the woman to whom he talked.\n\n\"Would you have me branded among the whole tribe as a coward, mother?\"\nhe was saying. \"Are not the Bedouin lads from all over the Nejd flocking\nto the field, even as the sparrows flock before the storm clouds of the\nnorth? And will the son of Musa be the craven, crouching at home in his\nmother's nest?\"\n\n\"A flock of vultures are they, rather!\" she cried\npassionately--\"Vultures flocking to a feast of blood, to gloat over the\ncarrion of brothers, sons, and husbands, left dead on the reeking plain,\nwhile in their solitary homes the women moan, even as moans the bird of\nthe tamarisk, robbed of its young.\"\n\n\"'Tis your Jewish heart speaks now, mother. Ah, but your Jewish women\nare too soft-hearted! Know you not that Bedouin mothers have not only\nsent their sons to battle, but have gone themselves and fought in the\nthickest of the fray?\"\n\n\"Ah, you are a true Bedouin, and ashamed of your mother!\" returned Lois,\nwith a sigh. \"Truly, a Jewess has no place among the tribes of the\nwilderness.\"\n\nThe youth's face softened. \"I am not ashamed of my mother!\" he said,\nquickly. \"But my blood leaps for the glory of battle, for the clash of\ncymbals, the speed of the charge, the tumult, and the victory!\"\n\n\"But a hollow glory you will find it,\" she said scornfully. \"Murder and\npillage,--and all sanctioned in the name of religion!\"\n\n\"Even so, is not the name of harami (brigand) accounted honorable among\nthe desert tribes?\" asked the youth, quickly.\n\n\"Alas, yes. Ye reck not that it has been said, 'Thou shalt not steal.'\nBut you, Kedar, care not for the Jewish Scripture. Why need I quote it\nto you.\"\n\n\"Arabian religion, Arabian honor, for the Arab, say I!\" returned the\nyouth haughtily. \"Let me roam over the wild on my steed, racing with the\nbreeze, lance in hand, bound for the hunt or fray; let me swoop upon the\ncowardly caravans whose hundreds shriek and scream and fall back before\na handful of Bedouin lads, if I will. More honorable it is to me than to\nplod along in a shugduf on a long-legged camel with a bag of corn or a\ntrifle of cloth to look after. Be the Jew if you will, but give me the\nleaping blood, the soaring spirit of the Bedouin!\"\n\nThe woman sighed again. \"You will be killed, Kedar,\" she said. \"Then\nwhat will all this profit you?\"\n\n\"To die on the field is more glorious than to breathe one's life out\ntamely in bed,\" replied the other.\n\nThere was no use of reasoning with this rash youth.\n\n\"And think you this Mohammed is worthy of your sacrifice?\" she asked.\n\n\"If he be really inspired, as hundreds now believe, is he not worthy of\nevery sacrifice? Does he not promise his followers an eternal felicity?\"\n\n\"A vile impostor!\" exclaimed the woman harshly. \"Yet you will not\nbelieve what I say, until your own eyes see and your own ears hear! Go!\nGo! I shall talk no more to you! If you fall it shall be no fault of\nLois'!\"\n\nShe arose and waved him off with an impatient gesture. Yet he lingered.\n\n\"You will forgive me, mother?\" he asked, gently.\n\nThe woman's mother-heart welled to the brim. She answered brokenly:\n\n\"My son, my son! Could I do aught else? Take my blessing with you! And\nnow, here comes your father.\"\n\nMusa was feebler than upon that first night when he met Yusuf in his\ntent, and his hair had become almost white, yet there was the same\ndignity in his appearance.\n\n\"Go, Kedar,\" he said, \"and prove that you are indeed the son of Musa.\nGo, and see that you bring back good news of battle!\"\n\nKedar bent his head in token of assent.\n\nBefore an hour had passed he was mounted on the swiftest of his father's\nhorses--a short, fleshless animal, with legs thin and of steel-like\nmuscle. But its slender neck, its small, snake-like head, its dilating\nnostrils, through which the light shone crimson, and its fiery,\nintelligent eye, showed its blood as it pawed the ground and neighed\nimpatiently. A noble animal and a noble rider they looked as they were\noff like an arrow, Kedar's fine figure swaying with the movement of the\nsteed as though rider and horse were one.\n\nAll alone went the youth across hill and valley, over rock and torrent,\nfearless and swift as an eagle; for Kedar scorned to seek the protection\nof numbers, although quite aware of the fact that a large caravan, under\nAbu Sofian, was even then on its way from Syria to Mecca, and was within\nthree hours' journey from him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nABU SOFIAN'S CARAVAN.\n\n\nWhile Kedar was thus speeding towards Medina, the caravan was also\nproceeding more slowly towards the south. It consisted of thirty\nhorsemen and one thousand camels richly laden with grain, with spices,\nwith purple of Syria, richest cloths of Damascus, and choicest perfumes\nof the northern regions.\n\nIt was the month Ramadhan, and the peaceful traders went confidently and\nsecurely on their way, well pleased with the success of their journey\nand hopeful in anticipation of the large gain they were to make during\nthe great bazar of the pilgrimage.\n\nWhile thus proceeding leisurely on, the leaders were somewhat surprised\nto see a solitary rider coming towards them in the greatest haste. He\nwas mounted on a swift dromedary, and with head bent down so that his\nturban concealed his face, he kept striking the animal with his short\ncamel-stick and urging it on with his shrill \"Yakh! Yakh!\"\n\nAll breathless he at last reached the caravan. \"Is Abu Sofian here?\" he\ncried.\n\n\"I am Abu Sofian,\" said the sturdy old chief. \"What do you desire of\nme?\"\n\n\"I have been sent by Amzi the benevolent,\" returned the other. \"He bids\nme say to Abu Sofian that it will be well for the caravan to advance\nwith the greatest caution, as Mohammed and his forces are in ambush on\nthe way.\"\n\n\"What guarantee have I,\" said Abu Sofian, \"that you are truly from Amzi\nthe Meccan, and not an emissary of Mohammed sent to entrap us into some\nnarrow glen?\"\n\n\"Here is your guarantee,\" replied the stranger, stretching forth his\nhand. \"Recognize you not this ring?\"\n\n\"It is well,\" answered Abu Sofian, satisfied. \"We are much beholden to\nyou and to our friend Amzi, who we had feared was but too good a friend\nto this same Mohammed.\"\n\n\"Can you trust Amzi?\" asked one near, anxiously.\n\n\"As my own soul,\" returned the leader. \"Amzi's heart is gold; Amzi's\nwords are jewels of purest luster. He speaks truth.\" Then to the\nmessenger, \"Know you what route Mohammed will take?\"\n\n\"I know not. He has, doubtless, spies, who will inform him of your\nmovements, and thus enable him to act accordingly.\"\n\n\"Then it remains for us to meet him by his own tactics,\" said Abu\nSofian, \"and no time is to be lost. You, Omair my faithful, speed to\nMecca with what dispatch you may. Go by the by-paths which you know so\nwell. Tell Abu Jahl, whom I have left in charge, to send us help\nquickly.\"\n\nOmair made obeisance and left at once.\n\n\"You, Akab and Zimmah,\" continued the leader, \"go by the hills ahead and\nfind out what you can. As for us, we will keep our lips closed and our\neyes and ears open. Abu Sofian is not yet so old that he has forgotten\nthe signs of the wilderness.\"\n\nThe vast procession moved on again slowly and in a dead silence, broken\nonly by the trampling of the beasts and the moans of the camels.\n\nPresently, on coming near a spot which might be deemed hazardous ground,\nAbu Sofian ordered a halt and went forward himself, alone and on foot.\nWith eye on the alert, ear on a tension to catch the slightest sound,\nand body bent downward to facilitate the closest scrutiny of the ground,\nthe keen old man proceeded slowly, stepping with cat-like precision and\nquietness.\n\nSuddenly he uttered an exclamation. A small object lay dark on the\nyellow sand. He picked it up. It was a date-stone. He examined it\nclosely. It was slightly smaller than the stones of the ordinary fruit.\n\n\"A Medina date!\" he exclaimed; \"whoever has thrown it there!\"\n\nGoing a few paces further, he found several similar ones thrown by the\nwayside. The trampling of the sand, too, showed that a considerable\nforce had been on the road at no distant time.\n\nHe bent down again and directed his keen scrutiny on the road, then\nretraced his steps for a short distance. There were tracks pointing in\nboth directions, but at one point the company seemed to have turned.\n\nIt was clear, then, that for some reason the force had been ordered to\nturn and go back for a distance, probably to await the caravan in some\nravine, and that they were now not very far away. It was necessary,\nthen, to be as expeditious as possible.\n\nHe hastily returned and gave the order that the route of the caravan be\nchanged, and that the party should cross over the hills and proceed by a\nroute close to the Red Sea until the place of danger was left behind.\n\nThis was accordingly done, and the long lines passed anxiously yet\nlaboriously onward over flinty summits, down steep and rugged\nhill-sides, past rocky clefts and over barren desert spots peopled only\nby the echoes that rang from the mountain sides, until at last the\nsparkling waters of the Red Sea lay below, and the anxious travelers\nfelt that, for the present at least, they were safe.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHE BATTLE OF BEDR.\n\n    \"A Prodigy of Fear, and a portent\n    Of broached mischief to the unborn times.\"\n\n                              --_Shakespeare._\n\n\nThe afternoon was intensely warm. Although the heat of the day was past,\nthe houses of Mecca seemed to bake in the sun, the sand burned like a\nfurnace, and a visible, shimmering heat seemed to fill the air.\nNevertheless the ceremonies of Tawaf and the ablutions of Zem-Zem went\non unceasingly, for it was the month of Ramadhan, and the half-naked\npilgrims, with their scanty white garments, shaven heads, and bare feet,\nkept up the perpetual promenade about the temple, even when so hot as to\nbe ready to drop of exhaustion. The courtyard was crowded with people,\nthe carriers of Zem-Zem water were in constant demand, and, in the\ncooler recesses of the covered portico around the great yard, a humming\ntrade went on, the venders' cries rising above the prayers of the\npilgrims.\n\nSuch was the scene upon which Omair suddenly staggered, all breathless,\nwith haggard face, turban awry, and thin wisps of hair streaming in wet\nhanks over his brow.\n\n\"Where is Abu Jahl?\" he cried, gasping.\n\n\"Why, what is wrong? Tell us!\" cried the curious crowd in some\nconsternation. \"Where is Abu Sofian? Where is the caravan? Why have you\ncome alone?\"\n\n\"Send me Abu Jahl!\" was his only reply.\n\nThe old man happened to be at the Caaba, and came anxiously at the\nunexpected summons.\n\n\"Omair!\" he exclaimed. \"Allah! What has happened?\"\n\n\"Send them help!\" gasped Omair. \"Send them help at once, or not one in\nour fair caravan may escape! Mohammed is lying in wait for them in the\nmountain passes.\"\n\n\"May Allah have mercy!\" ejaculated the old man; and the crowd about\nshrieked and groaned.\n\n\"Bring me the stair!\" called Abu Jahl. \"Place it close to the Caaba!\"\n\nThis done, he ascended to the roof where all might see him. His snowy\nbeard descended to his waist over his flowing garments, and his white\nlocks fell thinly from beneath his kufiyah.\n\nSilence fell upon the assembly below, and from every street men came\nhurrying in to hear the strange tidings.\n\n\"In the name of Allah, hear!\" called Abu Jahl in loud tones. \"Ye of the\ntribe of Koreish, hear! Ye who love Abu Sofian, hear! Ye who have\nfriends or goods in the great caravan from Syria, hear! Ye above whom\nthe arch-impostor, Mohammed, aspires, and whom he would fain crush\nbeneath his feet as the vile serpent in the dust, hear! He hath beset\nour friends in the fastnesses of the mountains. He swoopeth upon them as\nthe eagle upon the defenceless lamb out of the fold! Who, then, among\nyou, will follow Abu Jahl to deliver them?\"\n\nAn approving murmur rose, long and loud; then a hush fell as the aged\nman continued, appealing to the courage of his hearers:\n\n\"Ye who fear not the foul rebel's sword, ye who would uphold the honor\nof your wives and little ones, nor send your children out upon the world\nas the offspring of cowards, beseech your gods for blessing, then mount,\nand meet me as soon as may be outside the temple gates. In the name of\nAllah, good-speed!\"\n\nA shout of assent arose. The thoroughly excited multitude swayed and\nsurged like the waves of the sea. Hundreds hurried off to do the behest\nof their leader, and, returning, hastened to perform Tawaf about the\nCaaba before setting out on their perilous journey.\n\nYusuf, as a Christian, dared not enter the temple; but he heard the news\nfrom without. His heart was moved with compassion for the poor,\ndefenceless traders, caught like mice in a trap, and he decided to fall\ninto the ranks of the rescue party, intending, if his life were spared,\nto pay a visit to Amzi, at Medina.\n\nWhile the recruits were gathering, Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian, rushed\nup, her face wild and haggard with terror, her long black hair streaming\non the wind, her eyes flashing with excitement, and her lips drawn back,\nexposing her yellow, fang-like teeth. A tigress she looked in her fury,\nand it was with difficulty that Abu Jahl prevented her from going with\nthe expedition, which, in the cooler shades of evening, started off at a\nrapid pace, leaving her to nurse her vengeance until a later day.\n\nHurried, yet long and tedious, was the journey, and the anxiety and\nimpatience of the volunteers made it seem almost interminable.\n\n[Illustration: The youth made a quick lunge, piercing the priest's\nshoulder.--See page 46.]\n\nAt length news was brought of the safety of the caravan, and of its\ndeviation towards the sea. But the blood of the Meccans was up, and the\nfiery old leader was determined to punish Mohammed for his misconduct,\nand thus, perhaps, prevent him from committing similar atrocities in the\nfuture. Accordingly he sent part of his troops for protection to the\ncaravan, and commanded the rest, about nine hundred in number, to push\non; and among those ordered forward to the field was Yusuf.\n\nMohammed, with three hundred and thirteen soldiers, mounted chiefly on\ncamels, received word of this advance. His men were lying between Medina\nand the sea, and, as he thought, directly between the caravan and Abu\nJahl's army. He told his men to be of good cheer, as Allah had promised\nthem an easy victory; yet he was careful to omit no human means of\nsecuring an advantage. He posted his troops beside the brook Bedr, and\nhad them hastily throw up an entrenchment to cover the flank of his\ntroops. Then, sure of a constant supply of water, and safe from fear of\nsurprise, he awaited the Meccan army.\n\nHe himself ascended a little eminence, accompanied only by Abu Beker,\nand, in a small hut made of branches, he prayed for the assistance of\nthree thousand angels. In his excitement, one of his old paroxysms came\non, but this was regarded as auspicious by his men, to whom,\nsuperstitious as they were, every occurrence of this kind was an\nadditional presage of victory and an additional spur to bravery in\nbattle.\n\nAnd now the opposing force appeared, coming down the opposite hill, the\nmen hot, weary, and covered with dust.\n\nAfter a preliminary skirmish between individual combatants, the battle\nbegan,--not a systematic charge in close ranks, not the disciplined\nattack of trained warriors, but a wild melee of camels, horses, flashing\nscimitars, gleaming daggers and plunging spears, in the midst of clouds\nof dust and streaming scarfs.\n\nThe combat was long, and at one time the party of Mohammed seemed to\nwaver. The prophet rushed out, threw a handful of dust into the air and\nexclaimed:\n\n\"May confusion light upon their faces! Charge, ye faithful! charge for\nAllah and his prophet!\"\n\nNothing could withstand the wild dash made by his men. Filled with the\npassion of enthusiasm, the zeal of fanatics, and the confidence of\nsuccess, they bore down like madmen. The Koreish, many of whom were\nfearful of enchantment by the prophet, were seized with sudden panic. In\nvain Abu Jahl tried to rally them. He was torn from his horse by a\nsavage Moslem, and his head severed from his body. His troops fled in\nterror, leaving seventy men dead on the field and seventy prisoners.\n\nThe bodies and prisoners were robbed, and the spoil divided. Mohammed,\nin order to avert dispute over the booty, very conveniently had a\nrevelation at the time.--\"Know that whenever ye gain any spoil, a fifth\npart thereof belongeth unto God, and to the apostle, and to his kindred,\nand the orphans, and the poor, and the traveler.\"\n\nUpon this occasion he claimed a considerable amount of silver, and a\nsword, Dhu'l Fakar (or the Piercer), which he carried in every\nsubsequent battle.\n\nDuring the battle, Yusuf, the priest, had fought bravely. Mounted on a\nmagnificent horse, his commanding figure had marked him out as an object\nworthy of attack. Accordingly he was ever in the thickest of the fight.\nWith cool and calm determination his blows fell, until suddenly an event\noccurred which completely unmanned him, and gave his enemies the\nadvantage.\n\nAmong the opponents who singled him out for attack was a youth mounted\non a horse of equal power and agility. The youth was rather slight, but\nhis skill in thrusting and in averting strokes, and his evidence of\npractice in every exercise of the lance, rendered him a fitting\nadversary for the priest with his superior strength.\n\nFor some time their combat had gone on single-handed, when the youth's\nhead-dress falling off revealed a face strikingly familiar to Yusuf. It\nwas Manasseh's own face, pale, and with clots of blood upon it!\n\nThe priest was horror-stricken. He forbore to thrust, and the youth,\nseizing the opportunity, made a quick lunge, piercing the priest's\nshoulder, and felling him to the ground. A new opponent came and engaged\nthe youth's attention; the panic fell, and the priest, seeing that it\nwas useless to remain, managed to mount and ride off after the\nretreating troops.\n\nScarcely injured, yet covered with blood, he dismounted at Amzi's door\nin Medina.\n\n\"Yusuf! My brother!\" cried the Meccan in astonishment, \"what means\nthis?\"\n\nIn a few words Yusuf told the tale of the battle, and Amzi placed him\ncomfortably upon a soft couch, insisting upon ministering to him as\nthough he had been severely wounded.\n\n\"So, Yusuf the gentle too has become a seeker of man's blood!\" he said.\n\"Verily, what an effect hath this degenerate age!\"\n\n\"Believe me, friend,\" returned the other, earnestly, \"you too would have\ngone had you been in Mecca and had heard of our poor friends, all\nunarmed, and apparently in the power of the enemy. When the advance to\nBedr was ordered, I was one under authority, and had no choice but to\nsubmit, though I had little enough love for the stench of blood.\"\n\n\"Yet,\" returned Amzi, \"Yusuf's life is too precious to be risked in such\nmadness. It is not necessary for him to court death; for the time may\nsoon come when he shall be forced to fight in self-defence. Till then,\nlet foolish youths dash to the lance's point if they will.\"\n\nYusuf bowed his head, and in a low tone replied: \"'O God, the Lord, the\nstrength of my salvation, thou hast covered my head in the day of\nbattle. He hath delivered my soul in peace from the battle that was\nagainst me. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of\ndeath, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. He that dwelleth in\nthe secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the\nAlmighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my\nGod; in him will I trust.' Amzi, whether in life or in death, it shall\nbe as he wills.\"\n\nAmzi looked at him curiously. \"Yusuf,\" he said, \"is there no extremity\nof your life in which your religion fails to give you comfort? It seems\nto furnish you with words befitting every occasion.\"\n\n\"Comfort in every hour of need,\" returned Yusuf, \"deliverance in every\nhour of temptation, is our God able to bestow if we seek him in spirit\nand in truth. Things temporal, as well as things spiritual, call for his\nalmighty love and attention; and our love for him brightens every\npathway in life. It is the knowledge of this which has upheld his\nchildren in all the ages;--not one of them who has not gloried in\nfeeling that 'God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in\ntime of trouble. Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be\nremoved, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.'\nNot one of them but has at some time found comfort in the promises,\n'When the poor and the needy seek water, and there is none, and their\ntongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them; I, the God of\nIsrael, will not forsake them. He that keepeth Israel slumbers not, nor\nsleeps. Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy\nGod; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold\nthee with the right hand of my righteousness.' Think of this help, Amzi,\nin every struggle: in the struggle, worse than any time of battle, with\none's own sinful heart. And there is not one of God's children but has\nrealized the blessedness of following the commands of Jesus, 'Have faith\nin God. Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock,\nand it shall be opened unto you.' Amzi, you who love gentleness and\npeace, truth and humility, cannot you find in Christ and his loving\nprecepts all you would ask? Can anything appeal to your warm heart more\nthan such injunctions as these?--'Love your enemies, bless them that\ncurse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that\ndespitefully use you and persecute you. When thou doest alms, let not\nthy left hand know what thy right hand doeth. Let your light so shine\nbefore men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father\nwhich is in heaven. Judge not, that ye be not judged. Watch ye,\ntherefore, and pray always. Pray that ye enter not into temptation.'\"\n\nHe paused, out of breath; for such had been his study of the Scriptures\nthat the words came in a flood to his lips.\n\nAmzi sighed. \"Yes, Yusuf,\" he said, \"such words seem to me full of\ngoodness and sweetness; yet, try as I may, I cannot realize their true\nimport. I cannot rejoice, as you and your friends do, in your religion\nand its promises.\"\n\n\"My Amzi,\" returned the priest, \"how can you be warmed except you come\nto the fire? Remember the man with the withered hand. Did he not stretch\nit out in faith? My friend, like him, act! Reach out your heart to God.\nHe will not fail you. Look not upon yourself. Look upon God, who is,\nindeed, closer to you than you can imagine. Put your hand in his, behold\nhis love manifested to us in the coming of his dear Son, and feel that\nthat love is to-day the same, proceeding from the Father in whom is 'no\nvariableness, neither shadow of turning.'\"\n\nAmzi sighed. \"Yusuf,\" he said, \"it appears all dark, impenetrable, to\nme. A wall of adamant seems to stand between me and God. Pray for me,\nfriend. In this matter I fear I am heartless.\"\n\nIn spite of this assertion, there was genuine concern in the tone, and\nthe priest's face flushed in the glad light of hope.\n\n\"Amzi,\" he exclaimed, \"my hope for you increases. Even now, you begin to\nrealize your own self: it remains for you to realize God's self. Know\nGod--would I could burn that upon your heart! All else would be made\nplain.\"\n\nAmzi sighed again. For a time he sat in silence, then he said:\n\n\"I have been reading of the tabernacle, and of the sacrifices therein.\"\n\n\"Typical of the death of Christ,\" returned Yusuf. \"A constant emblem of\nthat mind which was, and is to-day, ready to suffer, that we may\nunderstand its infinite love.\"\n\n\"Strange, strange!\" said Amzi, musingly. Then after a long silence:\n\"Yusuf, have you ever noted the resemblance of the Caaba to the reputed\nappearance of the tabernacle?\"\n\n\"The resemblance struck me from the first glance--the courtyard, the\ntemple itself, and the curtain (or 'Kiswah') corresponding to the veil\nof the tabernacle. This same Caaba may trace its origin in some dim way\nto the ancient tabernacle, of which, in this land, the significance must\nhave become lost in the centuries during which the Ishmaelitish race\nforgot the true worship of God.\"\n\n\"And what think you of the course which affairs are now taking in\nArabia?\" asked Amzi. \"You believe in the supervision of God; why, then,\ndoes he permit such outbreaks as the present one is proving to be?\"\n\n\"I certainly believe that the Creator sees and knows all things. I\nbelieve, too, that even to Mohammed, at one time in his life, the Holy\nSpirit appealed, as he did to me, and, I hope, does now to you,\nAmzi,--for his pleadings come sometime to all men; but, I think that if\nin earnest at first, Mohammed--if, indeed, he be not a monomaniac on the\nsubject of his divine calling--has given himself up to the wild\nindulgence of his ambition, forgetting Him whose power is able to direct\nus all aright. Hence, he guides himself, rather than seeks to be guided,\nand, in such a case, he may sometimes be allowed to go on in his own\nway, bearing with him those who are so foolish as to accept his\nteaching. Something of this kind may, indeed, be one of the secrets of\nthe crimes and calamities which enter into many human lives. God leaves\nus free to choose. When we come to know him we choose to be his\nfollowers. If we are indifferent to him, he may, at times, look on\nwithout interfering in our lives except to send us occasionally great\ntrouble, or great joy, as an appeal to us. His mercy is great. He pities\nand pleads with us, yet he leaves us free.\"\n\n\"And what, think you, will be the effect upon Arabia of this rising?\"\n\nYusuf shook his head. \"I know not,\" he said. \"We cannot see now, nor\nmayhap until ages have rolled by; but 'at eventide it shall be light.'\"\n\nSo talked Amzi and the priest until the gray dawn shone in, and the\nvoice of Bilal, the muezzin, was heard calling from the mosque:\n\n\"God is great! There is no God but God! Mohammed is the prophet of God!\nCome to prayers! God is great!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nTHE PERSECUTION BEGINS.\n\n    \"In doing good we are generally cold and languid and\n    sluggish.... But the works of Malice and Injustice are quite in\n    another style.\"--_Burke._\n\n\nAmong those left dead on the field of Bedr were the father, uncle and\nbrother of Henda, the wife of Abu Sofian. Fierce and savage as was her\nnature, she was yet capable of deep feeling, and her love for her\nkindred was one of the ruling passions of her life.\n\nWhen the caravan at last reached Mecca in safety, she rushed to meet Abu\nSofian, weeping wildly, wringing her hands in grief, and throwing dust\non her long hair. She besought him frantically to avenge their death,\nand he, knowing that the debt of \"blood revenge\" was now upon him, and\nthat blood alone would wipe the stain from his honor, gathered two\nhundred swift horsemen and set out almost immediately for Medina.\n\nOn the way he ravaged the whole country, burning the villages and\ndate-groves of Mohammed's followers.\n\nWhen within three miles of Medina the prophet sallied out to meet him. A\nbrief contest took place, and Abu Sofian was once more defeated in what\nwas jestingly called the Battle of the Meal Sacks.\n\nThe Moslems were exultant over their success, but Abu Sofian returned to\nMecca, the blood-dues still unpaid, and with bitter enmity gnawing at\nhis heart.\n\nIn the meantime Mohammed began to assume all the airs of an independent\nsovereign. He married a beautiful maiden, Hafza, to whom he entrusted\nthe care of the Koran, according as it was revealed; and shortly\nafterwards he issued a decree by which all true believers were ordered\nto face Mecca when praying. Thus early in his career of conquest he had\nfixed upon Mecca as the future holy city of the Moslems. As usual, the\nKoran was called in to authorize him in thus fixing the Kebla, or point\nof prayer.\n\n\"Unto God belongeth the East and the West. He directeth whom he pleaseth\nin the right way. Turn, therefore, thy face towards the holy temple of\nMecca; and wherever ye be, turn your faces towards that place.\"\n\nAt this time also he sanctioned the retaining of the holy fast of\nRamadhan and the pilgrimages connected therewith. As he was well aware\nthat the doing away with the great bazar upon which the prosperity of\nMecca so largely depended would loose a host of enemies upon him, he\ndeclared:\n\n\"O true believers, a fast is ordained you, as it was ordained unto them\nbefore you, that ye may fear God. The month of Ramadhan shall ye fast,\nin which the Koran was sent down from heaven, a direction unto men.\"\n\nHenceforth, during the fast, all true believers were to abstain from\neating or drinking, and from all earthly pleasures, while the sun shone\nabove the horizon and until the lamps at the mosques were lighted by the\nImaums. It is needless to say that the Moslems obviated this\nself-sacrifice by sleeping during the day as much as possible, giving\nthe night up to all the proscribed indulgences of the interdicted\nseason.\n\nAnd now Mohammed's hatred to the Jews began to show itself, and the\nawful persecution of the little Jewish band in Medina commenced.\n\nPoor Dumah was one of the first to bring the rod of wrath upon himself.\nWhen wandering down the street one day, not very long after the Battle\nof Bedr, he paused by a well, just as Mohammed, accompanied by his\nfaithful Zeid, appeared in the way. Dumah saw them and at once began to\nsing his thoughts in a wild, irregular lament. His voice was peculiarly\nsweet and clear, and every word reached the ear of the enraged prophet.\nThe song was a weird lament over those slain at Bedr:\n\n    \"They are fallen, the good are fallen,\n    Low in the dust they are fallen;\n    And their hair is steeped in blood;\n    But the poison-wind shrieks above them,\n    Sighing anon like the cushat,\n    And breathing its curses upon him,\n    Upon him, the chief of impostors.\n    As he passes the leaflets tremble,\n    And the flowers shrink from his pathway;\n    And the angels smile not upon him,\n    For he maketh the widow and orphan;\n    And the voice of Rachel riseth\n    In mourning loud for her children.\n    And no comfort doth fall upon her.\n    Soft like the balm of Gilead.\"\n\nTurning to one of his followers, Mohammed commanded angrily:\n\n\"Seize that singer!\"\n\nDumah heard the exclamation, and was off like the wind, followed by two\nor three Moslems, each anxious to secure the victim first, and thus win\nthe approval of the august Mohammed.\n\nOn, on, straight to the house of Amzi fled Dumah. Bursting open the\ndoor, he rushed in, his long hair disordered, his face purple with\nrunning and his eyes wide with terror.\n\n\"Save me, Yusuf! Save me, Amzi!\" he cried. \"Mohammed will kill me!\nMohammed will kill me!\"\n\nYusuf sprang to the door, and the poor fugitive threw himself at Amzi's\nfeet, clinging to his garments with his thin, white hands.\n\nBut the pursuers were already upon him. Yusuf strove in vain to detain\nthem, to reason with them.\n\n\"Can you not see he is a poor artless lad? Can you not have mercy?\" he\ncried.\n\n\"It is the order of the prophet of Allah!\" was the response.\n\nYusuf resisted their entrance with all his might, but, unarmed as he\nwas, he was quickly thrown down, and the terrified Dumah was dragged\nover his body and hurried off to be put in chains in a Moslem cell.\n\nAmzi was distracted. There seemed little hope for Dumah. The small\nJewish band then in Medina could not dare to cope with the overwhelming\nnumbers of Moslems that swarmed in the streets. If Dumah were delivered\nit must be by stratagem; and yet what stratagem could be employed?\n\nEarly in the evening Amzi and the priest withdrew to the roof for\nconsultation.\n\n\"You believe that your God is all-powerful--why do you not beseech him\nfor our poor lad's safety?\" cried Amzi passionately.\n\n\"I have not ceased to do so since his capture,\" returned Yusuf. \"But it\nmust be as the Lord willeth. He sees what is best. Even our blessed\nJesus said to the Father, 'Not my will, but thine be done.'\"\n\nAmzi was not satisfied. \"Can he then be the God of Love that you say, if\nhe could look upon the death of that poor innocent nor exercise his\npower to save him?\"\n\n\"Amzi, I do not wonder at you for speaking thus. Yet consider. We will\nhope the best for our poor singer. May God preserve him and enable us,\nas instruments in his hands, to deliver him. But God may see differently\nfrom us in this matter. Who can say that to die would not be gain to\npoor Dumah? All witless as he is, he shall have a perfect mind and a\nperfect body in the bright hereafter. We know not what is well. We can\nonly pray and do all in our power to effect his deliverance; we must\nleave the issue to God.\"\n\nAmzi bowed his head on his hands and groaned. Yusuf raised his eyes\ntowards heaven; the tears rolled down his cheeks, and his lips moved.\nEven he could not understand the mysteries of this strange time. Yet he\nwas constantly comforted in knowing that \"all things work together for\ngood to them that love God.\"\n\nSaddest of all was the vision of the handsome, dark face that, contorted\nin the fury of combat, had glared upon him from the Moslem ranks in the\nBattle of Bedr, while Manasseh's hand showered blows upon the head of\nhis best friend--for the sake of the prophet of Islam.\n\n\"Manasseh! Manasseh!\" he exclaimed in bitter sadness. \"Why hast thou\nforsaken thy father's God? O heavenly Father, do thou guide him and lead\nhim again into thy paths!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nAMZI FINALLY REJECTS MOHAMMED.\n\n    \"'Do the duty which lies nearest thee' which thou knowest to be\n    a duty! Thy second duty will already have become\n    clearer.\"--_Carlyle, \"Sartor Resartus.\"_\n\n\nUpon the following morning Yusuf hastened to obtain an interview with\nMohammed. The prophet lived in an ostentatiously humble abode--a low,\nbroad building, roofed with date-sticks, and thatched with the broad\nleaves of the palm tree.\n\nMohammed absolutely refused to see him. Ayesha, the youngest and fairest\nof the prophet's wives, sent to inform him that Mohammed had nothing to\nsay to the Christian Yusuf. So with heavy heart he turned away and\nsought the house of Zeid, deeming that he, as the prophet's adopted son\nand most devoted follower, might have some influence in obtaining\nDumah's release.\n\nZeid sat in a low, airy apartment, through whose many open windows a\ncool breeze entered. By him sat his newly-wedded wife, unveiled, for at\nthat time the rules in regard to veiling were not so strictly insisted\nupon as at a later day, when the prophet's decree against the unveiling\nof women was more rigorously enforced.\n\nEven Yusuf noted her marvelous beauty. There was a peculiarity of\naction, a something familiar about her, too, which gave him a hazy\nrecollection of having seen her before; but not for several moments did\nthe association come up in his memory, and he saw again the little\nJewish home of Nathan in Mecca, the dim light, and the beautiful child\nwhose temples Nathan's wife was so tenderly bathing. Yes, after the\nlapse of years, in a flash he knew her for Zeinab!\n\nShe listened with interest to the tale of the Jewish singer; but there\nwas a heartlessness in her air, and a certain contempt in the look which\nshe bent upon the Christian who was thus making intercession for an\nunworthy Jew.\n\n\"I have neither eyes to see, tongue to speak, nor hands to act, save as\nthe prophet is pleased to direct me,\" was Zeid's reply, in the most\ndetermined tone.\n\nYusuf, seeing no hope, left the house, and shortly afterwards Zeid, too,\nwent down into the town. Scarcely had he left when Mohammed entered.\n\nZeinab was still at the window, which opened directly on the courtyard.\nA myrtle bush grew near, and she listlessly plucked some of the white\nblossoms and twined them in the braids of her glossy black hair. She\nwore a loose gown of sky-blue silk with a drape of crimson, and deep\npointed sleeves of filmy, white lace. Her veil was cast aside, and when\nthe prophet entered she turned her magnificent dark eyes, with their\nshading of kohl, full upon him.\n\nEver susceptible to the influence of beauty, he exclaimed, \"Praise be\nGod, who turneth the hearts of men as he pleaseth!\" And he at once\ncoveted her for his wife; although according to law she bore the\nrelation of daughter to him.\n\nHe intimated his desire to Ali, who, in turn, broke the news to Zeid.\nZeid returned pale and trembling to his home. He loved his wife deeply;\nyet his devotion to the prophet and the sense of obligation which he\nowed him as foster-father, for having freed him from servitude, appealed\nto him strongly. Bowing his head upon his wife's knee, he wept.\n\n\"Why do you weep, Zeid?\" she asked.\n\n\"Alas!\" he cried, \"could one who has known thee as wife forbear to weep\nat having thee leave him?\"\n\n\"But I will never leave my Zeid.\"\n\n\"Not even to become the wife of the prophet?\"\n\n\"Mohammed does not want me for his wife,\" she said quickly.\n\nZeid sighed. \"Could you be happy were you his wife?\" he asked.\n\nThe beauty's ambitious spirit rose, but she only said: \"Were I made his\nwife, it would be the will of Allah.\"\n\nZeid pushed her gently from him, and went out. \"Mohammed,\" he said,\nseating himself at the prophet's feet, \"you care for Zeinab. I come to\noffer her to you. Obtain for your poor Zeid a writ of divorce.\"\n\nThe prophet's face showed his satisfaction. \"I could never accept such a\nsacrifice,\" he said, hesitatingly.\n\n\"My life, my all, even to my beloved wife, belongs to my master,\"\nreturned Zeid. \"His pleasure stands to me before aught else.\"\n\n\"So be it, then, most faithful,\" said the prophet. \"O Zeid, my more than\nson, a glorious reward is withheld for you.\"\n\nThen, as ever, a revelation of the Koran came seasonably ere another\nday, to remove every impediment to the union of Mohammed and Zeinab.\n\n\"But when Zeid had determined the matter concerning her, and had\nresolved to divorce her, we joined her in marriage unto thee, lest a\ncrime should be charged on the true believers in marrying the wives of\ntheir adopted sons: and the command of God is to be performed. No crime\nis to be charged on the prophet as to what God hath allowed him.\"\n\nThere were those in Medina who resented Mohammed's selfishness in thus\nappropriating Zeinab to himself, and there were those who questioned the\nhonor of such a proceeding; but this questioning went on mostly among\nthe few Bedouin adherents who had flocked into the town in his service,\nfor the most sacred oath of the highest class of Bedouins has long been,\n\"By the honor of my women!\"\n\nIn none did the prophet's action inspire more disgust than in our two\nfriends, Yusuf and Amzi. Amzi had long since lost all faith in the\nprophet as a divine representative; and this marriage with Zeinab only\nconfirmed his distrust.\n\n\"Pah!\" he said to Yusuf, \"he not only lets his own impulses sway him,\nbut he uses the sanction of heaven to authorize the satisfaction of\nevery desire, no matter who is trampled upon in the proceeding. Was\nthere ever such sacrilege?\"\n\nYusuf returned: \"For this I am thankful, brother: that you at last\napply the term 'sacrilege' to the claims of this impostor.\"\n\n\"Think you he is no longer in earnest at all for the raising of his\ncountrymen from idolatry?\"\n\n\"He seeks to throw down idols, but to raise himself in their stead.\nCupidity and ambition, Amzi, have well-nigh smothered every struggling\nseed of good in Mohammed's haughty bosom.\"\n\n\"Do you not think that, at the beginning, he imagined himself inspired?\"\n\n\"Mohammed is strangely visionary. At the beginning he, doubtless,\nthought he saw visions, but, if the man thinks himself inspired now, he\nis mad.\"\n\n\"Yet what a personality he has!\" said Amzi, musingly. \"What a charm he\nbears! How his least word is sufficient to move this crowd of howling\nfanatics!\"\n\n\"A man who might be an angel of light, were he truly under divine\nguidance,\" returned Yusuf. \"And, mark me, Amzi, his influence will not\nstop with this generation. The influence of every man on God's earth\ngoes on ever-rolling, ever-unceasing, down the long tide of eternity;\nbut, in every age, there are those who, like Mohammed, possess such an\nindividuality, such a personality, that their power goes on increasing,\ncrashing like the avalanche down my native mountains.\"\n\n\"How eloquently such a thought appeals to right impulse, right action!\"\nsaid Amzi, thoughtfully. \"Did a man realize its import fully, he would\nsurely be spurred on to act, not to sit idly letting the world drift\nby.\"\n\n\"'No man liveth unto himself,'\" said Yusuf slowly. \"Whether we will it\nor not, we are each of us ever exerting some influence for good or for\nill upon those with whom we come in contact. No one can be neutral. Acts\noften speak in thunder-tones, when mere words are heard but in\nwhispers.\"\n\n\"I fear me, Yusuf,\" said the Meccan, with a half-smile, \"that Amzi has\nneither thundered in action, nor even whispered in words. So little good\nhas he done, that he almost hates to think of your great influence\ntheory.\"\n\nYusuf smiled and slipped his arm about the Meccan's shoulder. \"Amzi,\nthe name of 'benevolent' belies your words,\" he said. \"Think you that\nyour home duties faithfully performed, your pure and upright life, pass\nfor naught?\"\n\n\"You would stand aghast, Yusuf,\" returned Amzi, \"if I told you the\namount of time that I have squandered, simply in dreaming, smoking, and\ntaking my ease.\"\n\n\"Time is a precious gift,\" replied Yusuf, \"it flows on and on as a great\nriver towards the sea, and never returns. It appears to me, every day,\nmore clearly as the talent given to all men to be used rightly. I, as\nwell as you, have let precious hours pass, and, in doing so, we have\nboth done wrong. Yet I pray that we may every day see, more and more,\nthe necessity of well occupying the hours,--'redeeming the time, because\nthe days are evil.'\"\n\n\"Would that I had your decision of purpose, your firmness of will!\" said\nAmzi, wistfully. \"Yusuf, it would be impossible for me to spend all my\ntime as you do,--visiting, relieving, studying, speaking ever the word\nin season, and ever working for others. I should miss my _kaif_.\"\n\n\"Even if you know it was in the cause of the Lord?\" asked Yusuf, with\ngentle reproof. \"Yet, Amzi, you have done as much as I, considering your\nopportunities. The great thing is to do faithfully whatever comes to\none's hand, whether that be great or small. Know you not that it was\nsaid to him who had received only two talents, 'Well done, good and\nfaithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make\nthee ruler over many things.' As bright crowns await the humble\nhome-workers as the great movers of earth, provided all be done 'as unto\nthe Lord.'\"\n\n\"But,\" returned Amzi, impatiently, \"my 'good works,' as you call them,\nhave not been done 'as unto the Lord.' My charities have been done\nsimply because the sight of misery caused me to feel unhappy. I felt\npity for the wretched, and in relieving them set my own mind at ease,\nand gave satisfaction to myself. I feel that it is right to do certain\nthings, and so I do them under a sense of moral obligation.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Yusuf, \"has this acting under a sense of moral obligation\nbrought you perfect satisfaction, perfect rest?\"\n\n\"Frankly, it has not.\"\n\nYusuf rose, and, placing both hands on Amzi's shoulders, said earnestly:\n\"My friend, who can say that every good impulse of man may not be an\noutcome of the divine nature implanted in him by the Creator, and which,\nif watered and developed, will surely burst into the flower of goodness\nwhen once the influence of God's Spirit is fully recognized and ever\ninvoked? Amzi, you have many such seeds of innate good. Your very\nlongings for good, your tone of late, show me that you are near this\nblessed recognition. Why will you not believe? Why will you not embrace\nthe Lord Jesus Christ? We are all weak of ourselves, but we have\nstrength in him. Amzi, my friend, pray for yourself.\"\n\nHe turned abruptly and left Amzi alone, to ponder long and earnestly\nover the conversation of the past hour.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nTHE FATE OF DUMAH.\n\n    \"Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the\n    physician of him whom medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of\n    him whom time cannot console.\"--_Colton._\n\n\nAnd now began a veritable reign of terror for the Jews of Medina. The\nfirst evidence of the closing of Mohammed's iron hand was shown in his\nforcing them to make Mecca, rather than Jerusalem, their kebla, or point\nof prayer. Many refused to obey this command, and were consequently\ndragged off to await the pleasure of the prophet.\n\nAt first the keenest edge of Moslem vindictiveness seemed to be directed\nagainst the bards or poets, for the power of stirring and pathetic\npoetry in arousing the passionate Oriental blood to revenge was\nrecognized as an instrument too potent to be overlooked.\n\nEre long even the form of imprisonment was, to a great extent, set\naside, and the knife of the assassin was set at work. Among those who\nthus fell were Kaab, a Jewish poet who strove to incite the Koreish to\naggressive measures against the Moslems; and Assina, a young woman who\nhad been guilty of writing satires directed against the prophet himself.\n\nYusuf and Amzi became greatly alarmed for the safety of Dumah. Every\npossible means of rendering assistance to the poor singer seemed to be\ncut off. They could not even find any clue to his whereabouts, and\nfeared that he, too, had fallen beneath some treacherous blade.\n\nAs yet, Amzi and Yusuf had been permitted to wander at will. For hours\nand hours did they roam about the streets seeking for some clue to\nDumah's place of imprisonment, but all efforts were futile, until one\nday Amzi heard a faint voice singing in the cellar of one of the Moslem\nbuildings. He lay down by the wall, closed his eyes, and strained his\nears to catch the sound. It was assuredly Dumah, singing weakly:\n\n    \"Oh, why will they not come,\n    The friends of Dumah!\n    For living death is upon him,\n    And the walls of his tomb close over,\n    Yet will not in mercy fall on him.\n    Does the sun shine still on the mountain,\n    And the trees wave?\n    Do the birds still sing in the palm-trees,\n    And the flowers still bloom in Kuba?\n    And yet doth Dumah languish\n\n    \"But Dumah's friends have forgotten him,\n    Nor seek him more,\n    And even the angels vanish,\n    And the tomb is all about him:\n    O Death, come, haste to Dumah!\"\n\nThe voice sank away in a low wail, and Amzi sprang up. His first impulse\nwas to rush in and batter at the door of Dumah's cell; his second, to\ncall words of comfort through the wall. Yet either would be imprudent\nand might ruin all, so he hastened home to Yusuf.\n\n\"I will go to him immediately,\" said the priest.\n\n\"But how?\"\n\n\"In disguise if need be,\" was the reply.\n\n\"In disguise!\" exclaimed Amzi. \"Friend, with your physique, think you\nyou can disguise yourself? Not a Moslem in Mecca who does not know the\nfigure of Yusuf the Christian. Nay, Yusuf, your friend Amzi can effect a\ndisguise much more easily. Here,\"--running his fingers through his gray\nbeard,--\"a few grains of black dye can soon transform this; some stain\nwill change the Meccan's ruddy cheeks into the brown of a desert Arab.\nThe thing is easy.\"\n\n\"As you will, then,\" said the priest; and the two were soon busy at work\nat the transforming process.\n\nWith the garb of a Moslem soldier, Amzi was soon, to all appearance, a\npassable Mussulman, with divided beard, and chocolate-brown skin.\n\nHe set out, and, having arrived at the door of the sort of barracks in\nwhich Dumah was imprisoned, mingled with the soldiers, quite unnoticed\namong the new arrivals who constantly swelled the prophet's army.\n\nWith the greatest difficulty, yet without exciting apparent suspicion,\nhe found out the exact spot in which Dumah was confined. Upon the first\nopportunity he slipped noiselessly after the attendant who was carrying\nthe prisoner's pittance of food. Under his robe he had tools for\nexcavating a hole beneath the wall, and his plan was to step silently\ninto the room, secrete himself behind the door, and permit himself to be\nlocked in, trusting to subsequent efforts for effecting the freedom of\nhimself and Dumah.\n\nSilently he glided into the darkened room behind the keeper. All within\nseemed dark as night after the brighter light without; but Dumah's eyes,\naccustomed to the darkness, could see more clearly. He penetrated the\ndisguise at once.\n\n\"Amzi! Amzi!\" he cried out delightedly, \"you have come! You have come!\"\n\nAmzi knew that all was undone.\n\n\"Treachery!\" called the keeper.\n\nThe Moslems came pouring into the room. Amzi was overpowered, and\npinioned on the spot.\n\n\"What means this?\" cried Asru, the captain of the guard.\n\n\"Treachery, if it please you,\" returned the keeper. \"An asp which has\nbeen in our camp with its poison-fangs hid! No Moslem, but an enemy--a\nfriend of this dotard poet!\"\n\n\"Search him!\" was the order.\n\nThe tools were found.\n\n\"Aha!\" said the captain. \"Most conclusive proof, wretch! We will teach\nyou, knave, that foxes are sometimes trapped in their own wiles. Off\nwith him! Chain him!\"\n\nAmzi was hurried off, and Asru strode away to execute some other act of\nso-called justice. He was a man of immense stature, heavy-featured, and\ncovered with pock-marks, yet his face was full of strength of character,\nand bore traces of candor and honesty, though the lines about the mouth\ntold of unrestrained cruelty and passion.\n\nAt home Yusuf waited in an agony of suspense. The day passed into night,\nthe night into day, the day into night again, yet Amzi did not come.\nYusuf could bear it no longer. Anything was better than this awful\nwaiting. Only once he almost gave up hope and cried in the words of the\nPsalmist, \"O Lord, why castest thou off my soul? Why hidest thou thy\nface from me?\" Then like balm of healing came the words, \"Cast thy\nburden upon the Lord, and he will sustain thee; he shall never suffer\nthe righteous to be moved.\"\n\nDressed in his quiet, scholarly raiment, and quite unarmed, he set out\nin search of Amzi. Arriving at the place, he saw none whom he knew. He\nwas stopped at the door.\n\n\"I wish to see the captain who has command here,\" he said.\n\n\"You are a peaceable-looking citizen enough,\" said a guard, \"yet we have\norders to search all new-comers, and you will have to submit, stranger.\"\n\nYusuf was searched, but as neither arms nor tools were found upon him,\nhe was allowed to have audience with the captain.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Asru, recognizing him at once. \"What seeks Yusuf, a\nChristian, of a follower of Mohammed the prophet?\"\n\n\"I seek but the deliverance of two harmless, inoffensive friends,\" he\nreplied.\n\n\"A bold request, truly,\" said the other. \"Yet have I not forgotten my\ndebt of gratitude to you. I have not forgotten that it was Yusuf who\nnursed me through the foul disease whose marks I yet bear, when all\nothers fled;\" and he passed his hand over his pock-marked face.\n\n\"Of that speak not,\" returned Yusuf, with a gesture of impatience.\n\"'Twas but the service which any man with a heart may render to a needy\nbrother. However, if you are grateful, as you say, you can more than\nrepay the debt, you can make me indebted to you, by telling me aught of\nAmzi, the benevolent Meccan, whose hand would not take the life of a\nworm were he not forced into it.\"\n\n\"He is here in chains,\" said Asru haughtily, \"as every spy who enters a\nMoslem camp should be.\"\n\n\"Amzi is no spy!\" declared Yusuf emphatically.\n\n\"His sole object, then, was to free that half-witted poet?\" asked Asru,\nincredulously.\n\n\"It was none other. He loves him as his own son, as do I. Amzi would\nsuffer death willingly, Yusuf would suffer death willingly, would it\nspare that poor, confiding innocent!\"\n\nThe priest's eyes were flashing, and his tones bore witness to his\nearnestness. He did not notice, nor did Asru, a pair of bright eyes that\npeered at him from the chink of the doorway; he did not know that a face\nfull of petty, vindictive spite was partially hidden by the darkness\nwithout, or that two keen ears were listening to every word he said.\n\n\"Yusuf,\" returned the captain in a low tone, \"you are the only man who\nhas ever seemed to me good. Your words, at least, are ever truth. You\nwonder, then, that I follow the prophet? Simply because the excitement\nof war suits me, and\"--he shrugged his shoulders with a laugh--\"it is\nthe best policy to be on the winning side. Most of these crazed idiots\nbelieve in him, and fear that he will work enchantments upon them if\nthey do not; but the doctrine of the sword and of plunder goes farther\nwith a few, of whom Asru is one. Because I believe in you, Yusuf, I\nshall try to carry out your request. But it would cost me my life were\nit found out, so it must be seemingly by chance. Rest assured that, bad\nas I am, cruel as I am, I shall see that Yusuf's friends have some\n'accidental' way of escape.\"\n\nSo spoke Asru, nor knew that a pair of feet were hurrying and shuffling\ntowards the prophet, while a soldier kept guard at the door.\n\n\"May heaven bless you for this!\" cried the priest. \"So long as Amzi and\nYusuf breathe you shall not lack an earthly friend.\"\n\n\"Tush!\" exclaimed the captain. \"'Tis but the wish to make old scores\neven. You serve me; I serve you. We are even.\"\n\n\"Then I shall leave you,\" said Yusuf, rising with a smile.\n\nAsru opened the door.\n\n\"Hold!\" cried a guard. \"By order of the prophet, Asru is my prisoner!\"\n\n\"Wherefore?\" cried Asru, attempting to seize his dagger.\n\n\"Because, though it is politic to be on the winning side, it is not\nalways safe to be a traitor and to countermand Mohammed's orders,\"\nreplied the prophet's musical voice, as the soldiers gave way to permit\nhis advance.\n\nAsru freed himself and dashed forward, wielding his dagger right and\nleft, but it was a rash effort. He was instantly overpowered and bound\nhand and foot. The priest shared the same fate.\n\nThe prophet looked down upon the captain. \"Asru,\" he said, \"you whom I\ndeemed a most faithful one, you who have proved false, know that death\nis the meed of a traitor. Yet that you may know Mohammed can show mercy,\nI give you your life. For the sake of your past services I grant it you,\nand trust that, having learned obedience and humility, you may once\nagain grace our battle-fields nobly. Guards, chain him, yet see that he\nis kept in easy confinement and lacks nothing. Send me Uzza.\"\n\nThe Oman Arab came forward. He was a dark-browed man, under-sized, and\nwith one shoulder higher than the other. His eyes were long and narrow,\nwith a look of extreme cunning about them, and his mouth was cruel, his\nlips being pressed together so tightly that they looked like a long\nwhite line.\n\n\"Upon you, Uzza, O faithful, as next in command, I confer the honor of\nthe position left vacant by Asru. Do thou carry out its obligations with\nhonor to thyself and to the prophet of Allah.\"\n\nUzza prostrated himself to the ground.\n\nMohammed turned to Yusuf. \"Whom have we here? What said you in your\naccusation, Abraham? An accomplice of Asru, was it?\"\n\nThe little peddler, the silent watcher at the door, came forward,\nhopping along as usual, but with malignant triumph in his face.\n\n\"This, O prophet,\" he said, making obeisance, \"is not only an accomplice\nof Asru, but a sworn enemy of the prophet of Allah and of all who\nbelieve in him.\"\n\n\"Why, methinks I have seen him before,\" said Mohammed, passing his hand\nover his brow. \"Is not this the gentle friend of Amzi?\"\n\n\"He is the friend of Amzi,\" returned the Jew, \"but even Amzi lies in\nchains as a spy among the Moslems.\"\n\n\"I had forgotten,\" said the prophet. \"Yet what harm hath this gentle\nMeccan done?\"\n\n\"He is Yusuf, the Magian priest,\" said the Jew. \"And believe, O prophet\nof Allah, the Magians are your most bitter enemies.\"\n\nUzza started and leaned forward with intense interest. Yusuf felt his\nburning gaze fixed on his face.\n\n\"What proof have you that this is a Magian priest?\" asked the prophet,\nwearily.\n\n\"See!\" exclaimed the Jew.\n\nHe tore back the priest's garment, and there was the red mark of the\ntorch outlined distinctly against the white skin.\n\n\"Ha!\" cried Uzza, starting forward, the veins of his forehead swelling\nwith excitement. \"The very mark! The secret mark of the priests among\nthose who worship fire and the sun! This, O Mohammed, is not only a\npriest, but a priest who has fed the temple fires, and as such has been\npledged to uphold the Guebre religion at whatever cost.\"\n\nYusuf said nothing.\n\n\"Can you not speak, Yusuf?\" asked Mohammed. \"Have you no word to say to\nall this?\"\n\n\"It is all true, O Mohammed,\" replied Yusuf, quietly. \"It is true that\nin my youthful days I was a priest at Guebre altars. Now, I am not Yusuf\nthe Magian priest, but Yusuf the Christian, and a humble follower of our\nMost High God and his Son Jesus.\"\n\n\"Dare you thus proclaim yourself a Christian to my very face?\" exclaimed\nMohammed. \"Magian or Christian, ye are all alike enemies. Off with him!\nDo with him as you will, Uzza,--yet,\" relenting, \"I commend him to your\nmercy.\" He turned abruptly and left the apartment.\n\nYusuf was immediately taken and thrown into a close, dark room. He was\nstill bound hand and foot.\n\nThe little Jew entered, and sat down with his head on one side.\n\n[Illustration: \"He knows that Yusuf's hands reek with blood,\" said\nUzza.--See page 58.]\n\n\"Now, proud Yusuf,\" he said, \"has come Abraham's day. Once it was\nYusuf's day; then the poor peddler, the little dervish, was scourged and\nchained, and well-nigh smothered in that vile Meccan chamber. Now it has\ncome Abraham's day, and Yusuf and Abraham will be even. How does this\nsuit your angelic constitution? Angelic as you are, you cannot slip\nthrough chains and bolted doors so easily as the little Jew. Oh, Yusuf,\nare you not happy? Uzza hates you; I saw it in his face. Did you ever\nknow him before?\" The Jew's propensity for news was to the fore as\nusual.\n\nYusuf answered nothing.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said the Jew, giving him a shake, \"what does Uzza know of\nyou?\"\n\n\"He knows,\" said a thin, grating voice from behind, \"that Yusuf's hands\nreek with the blood of Uzza's only child, the fair little Imri, murdered\nin the cause of religion; and ere I could reach him--yes, priest, with\nvengeance in my heart, for had I found you then your blood would have\nblotted out the stain of my child's on your altar!--the false priest had\nfled, forsaken the reeking altar, left it black in ashes, black as his\nown false heart. And then, that vengeance might be satisfied, was Uzza's\nblade turned against the aged grandmother who had delivered the little\none up to Persian gods. O priest, your work is past, but not forgotten!\"\n\n\"Uzza,\" cried the priest, \"I neither ask nor hope for mercy. Yet would\nGod I could restore you your child! Its smile and its death gurgle have\nhaunted my dreams through these long years! 'Twas in my heathendom I did\nit!\"\n\n\"That excuse will not give her back to me,\" said Uzza, stepping out of\nthe room with the Jew, as the warden came with the keys.\n\nIt was not Uzza's purpose to bring about Yusuf's speedy death. As the\ncat torments the mouse which has fallen into its power, so he resolved\nto keep the priest on the rack for a considerable length of time.\n\nHearing of the conversation between him and Asru, he knew that exquisite\ntorture could be inflicted on the priest through Dumah, and determined\nto strike at him first through the poor singer. Dumah's execution was,\naccordingly, ordered.\n\nEarly one morning, Amzi, looking out of a little chink in his window\nthrough which the bare court-yard below was visible, was horrified to\nsee a scene revolting in its every detail, and over which we shall\nhasten as speedily as may be.\n\nThere in the gray morning light stood Yusuf, bound and forced to look on\nat the death of the bright-haired singer, whose sunny smile had been as\na ray of sunshine to the two men.\n\nAmzi looked on as if turned to stone--heard Dumah's last cheerful words,\n\"Do not weep, Yusuf; it will be all flowers, all angels, soon. Dumah is\ngoing home happy,\"--then, he fell on his face, and so lay for hours\nunconscious of all. Reason came slowly back, and he realized that\nanother of the tragedies only too common in those perilous days had\ntaken place.\n\n\"I am going home happy,\" rang in his ears. The cold moonlight crept in,\nshining in a dead silver bar on the ceiling. Amzi lay looking at it,\nuntil it seemed a path of glory leading, for Dumah's feet, through the\nwindow and up to heaven.\n\n\"I am going home happy.\" Was that home Amzi's home too? Ah, he had never\nthought of it as his home, though he remembered the words--\"In my\nFather's house are many mansions.\" He imagined he saw Dumah in one of\nthose bright mansions, happy in eternal love and sunshine, while he,\nAmzi, was without.\n\nFor the first time in his life Amzi was concerned deeply about his soul;\nand now there was no Yusuf to answer his questions. Ere another day had\npassed he, too, might be called upon to undergo Dumah's fate. He could\nnot say \"I am going home happy.\" How, then, might this blessed assurance\nbe his? He strove to remember Yusuf's words, but they seemed to flit\naway from his memory. His whole life appeared so listless, so selfish,\nso taken up with gratification of self! At last he seemed a sinner. How\ncould he obtain forgiveness?\n\nHe turned over in agony, and the little stone tablet fell against his\nbosom. With difficulty, on account of the manacles on his hands, he drew\nit forth and traced the words with his finger.\n\n\"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that\nwhosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting\nlife.\"\n\nAs when a black cloud passes away from the moon and a flood of\nbrightness fills the whole air below, so the light burst upon Amzi. He\nsaw it all now! His talk with Yusuf on the love of God came back to him,\nand he shouted aloud with joy:\n\n\"Praise the Lord, he hath set me free!\"\n\n\"Then for the sake of mercy, help me to get out of this too,\" said a\nvoice from the other side of the partition. It was Asru.\n\n\"Alas, my friend,\" returned Amzi, \"chains are still on my body. It is my\nsoul that soareth upward as an eagle.\"\n\n\"Wherefore?\"\n\nAmzi read the verse of Scripture aloud.\n\n\"I have heard somewhat of that before,\" said Asru. \"Read it again.\"\n\nAmzi did so, and explained it as well as he could. Asru listened\neagerly. This new creed interested him by its novelty, especially since\nhe was in forced inaction and had nothing else to think of. But it also\nappealed to a heart which had some noble traits among many evil ones;\nand as Amzi talked, sorrow for his sins came upon him.\n\n\"But the promise cannot be given to such as I,\" he said, wistfully. \"A\nlong life of wickedness surely cannot win forgiveness.\"\n\n\"O friend,\" returned Amzi, eagerly, \"'believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,\nand thou shalt be saved.' How often did they tell me those words and I\nwould not believe, could not understand!\"\n\nAnd then Amzi told the story of the thief on the cross, as he had read\nit and talked it over with Yusuf. His voice thrilled with eagerness,\nand, on the other side of the wall, Asru wept tears of repentance. To\nhim too, the door was opening, and a great longing for the love of\nChrist and for a better life filled his bosom. So they talked until the\nnoise of the awakening Moslems in the passage without rendered it\nimpossible for them to hear each other. But joy had come to both Amzi\nand Asru within the prison-walls.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nA SCENE IN PALESTINE.\n\n    \"I had rather choose to be a pilgrim on earth with Thee than\n    without Thee to possess heaven. Where Thou art, there is\n    heaven: and where thou art not, there is death and\n    hell.\"--_Thomas a Kempis._\n\n\nIt was a scene perfect in its calm beauty. A small, low, white house,\nflat-roofed, and dazzlingly clean, nestled at the foot of one of the\nfairest hills in Palestine; and before the door swept the river Jordan,\nplashing with that low, soft ripple which is music everywhere, but\nnowhere more so than in the hot countries of the East.\n\nA grove of banana and orange-trees sheltered the house, and the delicate\nfragrance of the ripening fruit mingled with the perfume of late roses.\nOn the green hills near, sheep rambled at will, and an occasional low\nbleat arose above the busy hum of bees, giving an air of life to the\nquiet scene.\n\nIn the shade of the trees sat Nathan, his wife and Mary. They had been\ntalking of Manasseh,--poor Manasseh, left behind in barren Arabia!\nNathan too had wanted to stay with his distressed countrymen, but\nfailing health had forced him to seek the more genial atmosphere of the\nNorth; and, after a long, tedious journey, he at last found himself safe\nonce more in his beloved Palestine, poor in worldly goods, yet serene\nand hopeful as ever.\n\nAnd fortune was at last smiling on the Jewish family. Nathan's health\nhad come back to him in the clearer, more bracing air of the Northern\nland, his flocks were increasing, and the only gloom upon their perfect\nhappiness was the absence of Manasseh, from whom they were not likely to\nhear soon. And yet they gloried in knowing that Manasseh had chosen to\nmeet tribulation for the sake of his faith, and that, wherever he was,\nhe was helping others and fighting on the side of right.\n\n\"Father,\" said Mary, \"how grand it is to be able to do something great\nand noble in the cause! Were I a man, I would go with Manasseh to fight\nfor the Cross.\"\n\nNathan stroked her hair softly. \"The life of everyone who is consecrated\nto God is directed by him,\" he said. \"To Manasseh is given the\nprivilege of defending the faith and helping the weak by his strong,\nyoung arm; to Mary is given the humble, loving life in which she may\nserve God just as truly and do just as great a work in faithfully\nperforming her own little part. Think you not so, mother?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes,\" returned the mother, with her gentle smile. \"Life is like the\ncloth woven little by little, until the whole pattern shows in the\nfinished work; and it matters not whether the pattern be large or small.\nSo the little things of life, done well for Christ's sake, will at last\nmake a noble whole of which none need be ashamed.\"\n\n\"But mother, watching the sheep, grinding the meal, washing the\ngarments, seem such very little things.\"\n\n\"Yet all these are very necessary things,\" returned the mother quietly,\n\"and if done cheerfully and willingly, call for an unselfish heart. A\ngentle, loving life lived amid little cares and trials is no small\nthing, my child.\"\n\nMary kissed her mother. \"Mother, you always say what comforts one; you\nalways make me wish to live more patiently and lovingly.\"\n\n\"And yet, Mary,\" said her father, \"mother's life has been one round of\nsmall duties.\"\n\nMary sat thinking for a moment. \"Yes, father,\" she answered slowly, \"I\nsee now that mother's life has been the very best sermon on duty. I\nshall try to be patient and happy in simply doing well whatever my hands\nfind to do. But I wish Manasseh were home;\" and she looked wistfully to\nthe west, where bands of color were spreading up the sky, saffron at the\nhorizon, blending into gold and tender green above, while all melted\ninto a sapphire dome streaked and flecked with rosy pink rays and bars.\n\n\"How he would enjoy this glorious sunset! Oh, father, how dreadful if he\nwere to be killed!--if he were nevermore to sit with us looking at the\nsunsets!\" Her voice trembled a little as she spoke.\n\n\"We are committing him to the care of Almighty God,\" returned Nathan,\nsolemnly. \"God is love, and whatever he does will be best.\"\n\n\"You find great comfort, father, in believing that 'all things work\ntogether for good to them that love God,'\" said Mary.\n\n\"For the children of God, everything that happens must be best.\"\n\n\"Even persecution and death?\"\n\n\"Even persecution and death, if God so will.\"\n\nMary looked at his placid face for a long time, then she said: \"How very\npeaceful you and mother are!\"\n\n\"How could we be otherwise,\" the father replied, smiling, \"with Jesus\nwith us each hour, each moment? And we know that he 'will never leave\nnor forsake us.' I think, too, that he is very close to my daughter.\nMary, is there anything in this world that could take the place of Jesus\nto you? Would wealth or honor or any earthly joy make you perfectly\nhappy if you could never pray to Jesus more, never feel him near you as\nan ever-present Friend, nevermore have the hope of seeing his face?\"\n\nMary clasped her hands, and her face glowed. \"Never, oh, never!\" she\ncried. \"I would rather be like poor blind Bartimeus begging by the\nwayside, yet able to call, 'Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!'\"\n\nThe sun had now set, and the sky had faded with that suddenness common\nin Eastern lands.\n\nNathan arose. \"Let us now offer up prayer for the safety of Manasseh,\nand for the steadfastness of the brethren; for we know that where two or\nthree are gathered together in Jesus' name, there is he in the midst of\nthem. Let us pray!\"\n\nThe three knelt in the dim chamber, with silence about and the evening\nstars above, and prayed for the lad who, amid very different scenes, was\nin the heart of the strange revolution. And then they sang the words of\nthat sublime psalm, than which no grander poem was ever written:\n\n    I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.\n\n    My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.\n\n    He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; he that keepeth thee will\n    not slumber.\n\n    Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.\n\n    The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand.\n\n    The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.\n\n    The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy\n    soul.\n\n    The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this\n    time forth, and even for evermore.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTHE BATTLE OF OHOD.\n\n    \"Dost thou not know the fate of soldiers?\n    They're but Ambition's tools, to cut a way\n    To her unlawful ends.\"\n\n                              --_Southern._\n\n\nWhile these events had been taking place in the North, Henda had given\nAbu Sofian little peace, urging him every day to pay the dues of\nblood-revenge for her relatives, and taunting him with cowardice in his\nlong delay.\n\nAt length, in the third year of the Hegira he gathered a considerable\narmy, and with three thousand men of the Koreish tribe, among whom were\ntwo hundred horsemen, left Mecca, accompanied by Henda and fifteen of\nthe matrons of Mecca bearing timbrels and singing war-like chants.\n\nThe whole army advanced with the intention of besieging Medina, but\nMohammed's men entreated him to let them encounter Abu Sofian outside of\nthe city, and he yielded to their entreaties. With only one thousand\nmen,[10] fifty of whom were chosen archers, the prophet took up his\nstand on a declivity of Mount Ohod, about six miles north of the city.\nThere, on its black and barren slope, he divided his army into four\nparts, three of which bore sacred banners, while the great standard was\nplaced before Mohammed himself.\n\nIn order to imbue his men with courage, he came out in full view of the\nwhole army, and, in a loud voice that penetrated even the farthest\nranks, gave promise of victory. Then, for the sake of those who should\nbe killed in battle, he expatiated upon the delights of that Paradise\nwhich surely awaited all who should be slain in the cause, representing\nit such a paradise as would be peculiarly adapted to the tastes and\nstimulating to the imagination of the Arabs--a race accustomed to arid\nwastes, burning sands, and glaring skies; a paradise of green fields and\nflowery gardens cooled by innumerable rivers and sparkling fountains,\nwhich glittered from between shaded bowers inter-woven with perfumed\nflowers. He gave them promise of streams literally flowing with milk and\nclearest honey; of trees bending with fruit which should be handed down\nby houris of wondrous beauty; he told them of treasures of gold, silver,\nand jewels. \"They shall dwell in gardens of delight, reposing on couches\nadorned with gold and precious stones.... Upon them shall be garments of\nfine green silk and brocades, and they shall be adorned with bracelets\nof silver, and they shall drink of a most pure liquor--a cup of wine\nmixed with the water of Zenjebil, a fountain in Paradise named\nSalsabil.\"\n\nSuch was the sensual character of the paradise promised to his followers\nby Mohammed. The soldiers were listening eagerly to the words when the\narmy of Abu Sofian was seen, advancing in the form of a crescent, with\nAbu Sofian and his idols in the center, and Henda and her women in the\nrear, sounding their timbrels, and singing loud war-chants.\n\nThe horsemen of the left wing of the Koreish now advanced to attack the\nMoslems in the flank, but the archers fired upon them from the top of\nsome steep rocks, and they retired in confusion.\n\nHamza, a Moslem leader, then shouted the Moslem cry, \"Death! Death!\" and\nrushed down the hill upon the center. The crash and roar of battle\nbegan. High in air gleamed spear and lance; horses shrieked and reared,\nand tossed their long manes; dark, contorted visages and shining teeth\nshone out from clouds of dust; sashes floated on the air, and sabres\nflashed in the sunlight; all was mad confusion.\n\nIn the melee two young men met hand to hand. Both were tall and slight,\nand had dark, waving hair. So like were they that a warrior near them\ncalled out, \"Behold, doth Manasseh fight with Manasseh!\" But the youths\nheard not, recked not. Their blows fell thick and fast, until at last\nthe Moslem gave way, and fell, wounded and bleeding, in the dust by the\nside of Hamza, who lay stiffening in death.\n\nThen arose the shout, \"The sword of God and his prophet!\" and Abu\nDudjana, armed with the prophet's own sword, waved it above his head and\ndashed into the thick of the battle.\n\nMosaab, the standard-bearer, followed close and planted the standard at\nthe top of a knoll. An arrow struck him in the eye. He fell, and the cry\narose that the prophet himself had fallen. Ali seized the standard and\nfloated it aloft on the air; but the Moslems, seized with confusion,\nwould not rally, and withdrew to the hill-top.\n\nThe Koreish, thinking Mohammed killed, forbore to follow them, and began\nthe revolting work of plundering the dead. Henda and her companions\nsavagely assisted in the gruesome task; and, coming upon Hamza, the\nfierce woman mutilated his dead body.\n\nBy him she found the handsome youth, whom she believed to be Manasseh,\nso torn and covered with blood as to conceal his Moslem adornments. To\nManasseh she had taken a strange fancy, and she now ordered the youth to\nbe conveyed in safety to the camp, with the army which was forming in\nline of march.\n\nThe band of Jews who had come with the forces of Abu Sofian, mainly for\nthe purpose of delivering those of their afflicted brethren who had\nrefused to join Mohammed, and of whom many were imprisoned in Medina,\nnow joined with a band of the Koreish, who desired the freedom of some\nof their tribe, and, while the excitement of battle was still fresh, the\nparty entered the city by stealth, then, dashing furiously down the\nstreet to the guard-house, overpowered the guards and battered open the\ndoors, setting many of the prisoners free. Among these were Amzi, Asru,\nand Yusuf.\n\nIt was Manasseh himself who broke in the door of the apartment in which\nYusuf was confined.\n\nAn exclamation of pleasure burst from him on recognizing the priest, and\nhe threw his arms about his neck.\n\n\"Yusuf! My dear Yusuf!\" he cried.\n\n\"My boy!\" exclaimed the priest, in astonishment. \"What means this?\"\n\n\"It means that you are free,\" said the youth as he knocked off the\nchains. \"Haste! We must on to the camp ere the Moslems return. Anything\nmore than this I will tell you on the way.\"\n\nOnce again Yusuf stepped out into the pure air, along with many others\nwho bore part of their chains in the broken links that still clanked\nupon their wrists and ankles.\n\nIn passing through the court-yard, the priest noticed some one crouched\nin a pitiable heap in a corner of the yard. Manasseh hauled him out. It\nwas the peddler, with ashen face and eyes rolling with fear.\n\n\"Come along, my man!\" laughed Manasseh. \"Like the worm in a pomegranate,\nyou are apt to do harm if left to yourself.\"\n\nAbraham writhed and begged for mercy.\n\n\"Come along!\" said Manasseh, impatiently. \"I shall not hurt you; I shall\nmerely look after you for awhile.\"\n\nThus consoled, the peddler hopped on with alacrity. A hasty mount was\nmade and the party set out for the camp of Abu Sofian.\n\nYusuf then had a chance to ask the question burning at his heart. \"How\ncomes it, Manasseh, that you again fight against the prophet? When last\nI saw you, you wore the green of the Moslem.\"\n\n\"I!\" said the youth in astonishment. \"You jest, Yusuf!\"\n\n\"It was surely you who met me on the field of Bedr.\"\n\n\"Yusuf, are you mad? It was never I.\"\n\n\"Then who can it have been? It was your very face.\"\n\n\"For once, Yusuf, your eyes have played you false. How could you have\nbelieved such a thing of Manasseh?\"\n\n\"A strange resemblance!\" mused Yusuf; then--\"Whom see I before me\nyonder?\"\n\n\"Manasseh's eyes do not play him false, and he declares it to be Amzi,\"\nsaid the youth.\n\nThey hastened up the narrow street, now crowded with soldiers,\nprisoners, camels, and horses; and, escaping the missiles thrown by\ninfuriated Moslem women from the housetops, soon overtook Amzi and Asru.\nAll proceeded at once to the camp of Abu Sofian.\n\nSome large tents were set apart for the wounded Koreish, and here Yusuf\nand Amzi found speedy occupation in binding wounds, and giving drinks of\nwater to the parched soldiers. Manasseh entered with them.\n\n\"What means this?\" cried Henda. \"Did I not have you conveyed, soaked\nwith blood, among the wounded of the Koreish?\"\n\n\"I have not been wounded to-day,\" returned Manasseh. \"Read me this\nriddle, Henda. There must be a second self--\"\n\n\"Here, Manasseh!\" interrupted Yusuf from one side. \"Had you a twin\nbrother, this must be he.\"\n\nYusuf was bending over a youth whose dark eyes spoke of suffering, and\nwho lay listlessly permitting the priest to bathe his blood-covered\nbrow. His eyes were fixed on Manasseh, who was quickly coming forward,\nand those near wondered at the striking resemblance, more marked than is\noften found between brothers.\n\n\"Who are you, friend?\" asked Manasseh, curiously.\n\n\"Kedar the Bedouin!\" returned the youth, proudly. \"Though how I came\ninto a Koreish camp, is more than I can explain.\"\n\n\"For that you may thank your resemblance to me,\" laughed Manasseh. \"You\nare weak, Kedar, my proud Bedouin, and we will ask you to talk but\nlittle; yet, I pray you, tell me, who was your father?\"\n\n\"Musa, the Bedouin Sheikh,\"--haughtily.\n\n\"And your mother was Lois, daughter of Eleazar?\"\n\n\"Even so,\" returned the other, wonderingly.\n\n\"My cousin!\" exclaimed Manasseh, delightedly seizing his hand.\n\n\"And son of my Bedouin friend, Musa!\" exclaimed Yusuf.\n\nSo the Bedouin youth, the rash, hot-headed Moslem recruit, found himself\namong friends in a Koreish camp.\n\nNight had now fallen, and under cover of darkness, Mohammed's army\nsilently returned to Medina.\n\nThere were those who censured the prophet for his conduct at this\nbattle; and some even dared to charge him with deception in promising\nthem victory. But Mohammed told them that defeat was due to their sins:\n\"Verily, they among you who turned their backs on the day whereon the\ntwo armies met at Ohod, Satan caused them to slip for some crime which\nthey had committed.\"\n\nTo quiet those who lamented for their slain friends, he brought forth\nthe doctrine that the time of every man's death is fixed by divine\ndecree, and that he must meet it at that time, wherever he be.\n\nIn the morning the majority of Abu Sofian's forces set out for Mecca.\nAmong them were Yusuf and Amzi, also Asru the captain; and it was with\nno small sense of comfort that the half-starved prisoners sat again\nabout Amzi's well-stocked board.\n\nManasseh was with them. Kedar, scorning to desert the Moslem army, had\nrefused to leave Medina, and, by the earnest intercession of Yusuf and\nAmzi, whose word was of some import in Meccan ears, he had been given\nhis freedom.\n\nIt was with deep relief that all felt the short respite from the blare\nof battle; and, though they looked forward to the future with anxious\nforebodings, and though their joy was clouded by the death of Dumah,\nthey were thankful for present blessings. Not alone prayer, but praise,\nwas an essential part of their religion, and their voices ascended in\nsong,--\n\n    I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be\n    in thy mouth.\n\n    My soul shall make her boast in the Lord; the humble shall hear\n    thereof, and be glad.\n\n    O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together.\n\n    I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my\n    fears.\n\n    They looked unto him, and were lightened; and their faces were not\n    ashamed.\n\n    This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of\n    all his troubles.\n\n    The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and\n    delivereth them.\n\n    O taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man that\n    trusteth in him.\n\n    O fear the Lord, ye his saints; for there is no want to them that\n    fear him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nTHE BATTLE OF THE DITCH.\n\n    \"Blood! blood! The leaves above me and around me\n      Are red with blood.\"\n\n\nIn the year which followed, Mohammed's forces were more than once\ndirected against Syrian caravans, and the plunder divided among the\nMoslem troops after one-fifth had been appropriated by the prophet; but\notherwise the truce was unbroken, until at the end of the year, the\nKoreish, uniting with neighboring tribes, many of whom were Jews, formed\nthe plan of a grand attack which was to free El Hejaz forever from the\npower of the Islam despot.\n\nFrom the Caaba the call was given to all who could be appealed to\nthrough religion, through the interests of commerce, or through desire\nfor blood-revenge in consequence of the battles of Bedr and Ohod. To the\nmore earnest Jews the undertaking took the form of a vast religious war,\nundertaken against the hosts of Satan for the deliverance of a land in\nbondage; to the Meccan merchants it assumed the guise of a commercial\ntransaction which would again restore the trade so long ruined by\nMohammed's hostile measures; to the Koreish and the desert tribes it\nseemed the grand opportunity of clearing the honor stained by the\nunrevenged death of their friends.\n\nAccordingly a host of volunteers to the number of one hundred thousand\noffered themselves, and the vast array set out. Among the volunteers\nwere Yusuf, Amzi, Asru, and the valiant Manasseh, all of whom deemed the\nnecessity of the hour a sufficient reason for entering upon a course\nforeign to the laws of peace which they would fain have seen\nestablished.\n\nA mighty host it seemed in a land whose battles had chiefly been\nconfined to skirmishes between different tribes. As it wound its way\ndown the narrow valley, the women of Mecca stood upon the housetops,\nlistening to the trampling, and beseeching their household gods to bless\nthe enterprise.\n\nLong ere they reached Medina the prophet had received word of their\nadvance, and had had a ditch or entrenchment dug about the city as a\nsort of fortification.\n\nAbu Sofian ordered his tents to be pitched below on the plain, and, this\ndone, he at once laid siege to the city.\n\nBut his bad generalship ruined the undertaking. For a month he kept his\nmen wholly inactive, and during that time Mohammed busied himself in\nsending emissaries in the midst of Abu Sofian's men for the purpose of\nsowing disaffection among them; and so completely was this done that the\nbesieging force became hollow and rotten to its core. Tribe after tribe\nleft. The few faithful besought their leader to permit them to attack\nthe city, and when at last the order was given, but a feeble remnant of\nthe original host remained. Notwithstanding this, the command \"Forward!\"\nwas hailed with tumultuous joy, and the besiegers pressed forward in\nirregular yet serried masses.\n\nScarcely had the attack begun when a terrific storm arose. It was in the\nwinter season, and a sudden hurricane of cold winds came shrieking\nthrough the gaps of the mountains to the north.\n\nAmzi, having, as an influential Meccan, been appointed to the command of\na division, charged boldly forward in the teeth of the tempest, waving\nhis sword above his head and cheering his men on with his hopeful voice.\nYusuf, Asru and Manasseh pressed forward close behind him. A cloud of\narrows met them, yet they poured impetuously on. And now the bank was\nclimbed and the conflict became almost hand-to-hand. The priest's tall\nform rendered him conspicuous in the fray. Some one came hacking and\nhewing his way towards him. It was the agile Uzza. The priest was beset\non all sides and was defending himself against fearful odds, when the\nface of Uzza, fiend-like in its hate, burst upon him as a new opponent.\nHe raised his weapon for a blow, but the vision of a Guebre altar upon\nwhich a little, bleeding child lay, rose before him, and his arm fell.\n\nUzza perceived his advantage. With a howl of triumph he cried, \"False\npriest, you shall not escape me this time!\" and made a fierce stroke\nwith his scimitar. But the blow was parried.\n\n\"Simpleton! Would you let him kill you?\" cried a harsh voice close by\nthe priest. And the next moment Uzza fell with a death-groan at the feet\nof Asru.\n\nAnd now the storm struck with full fury, howling among the houses of\nMedina, whistling shrilly on the upper air, and bending the palm trees\nlow along its furious path. Thatches were torn from the roofs and\ncarried whirling through the air; clouds of dust were blown high along\nthe streets, and black, ragged clouds scurried across the sky as if\nurged on by demon-force. Horses neighed loudly. Many of them became\nunmanageable, and dashed, with terrified eyes and distended nostrils,\nthrough the midst of the flying soldiery. The tents of Abu Sofian were\ntorn from their pegs and hurled away. Then the rain descended in sheets,\nor, whirled round by the wind, swirled along in columns with almost the\nforce of a water-spout.\n\nSuddenly a cry was raised: \"It is Mohammed! The prophet has raised the\nstorm by enchantment!\"\n\nThe cry echoed from mouth to mouth above the roar of the tempest. The\nsuperstitious Arabs were seized with terror and fled precipitately,\nbelieving themselves surrounded by legions of invisible spirits. Amzi\nand his little band stayed until the last; then, deserted by all and\nblinded by the descending torrents, they, too, were obliged to withdraw,\nand another victory, that of the Battle of the Ditch, had fallen to the\nprophet.\n\nThis was the last expedition undertaken by the Koreish against their\nvictorious enemy. Mohammed, of course, attributed his great conquest to\ndivine agency. In a passage from the Koran he declared:\n\n\"O true believers, remember the favor of God toward you, when armies of\ninfidels came against you, and we sent against them a wind and hosts of\nangels which ye saw not.\"\n\nThe heart sickens in following further Mohammed's willful career of\nblood. During the following five years he is said to have commanded\ntwenty-seven expeditions and fought nine pitched battles. Against the\nChristian Jews in particular the bitterest expressions of his hate were\ndirected; and to his dying day this incomprehensible man, from whose\nlips proceeded words of mercy and of deadliest rancor, words of love and\nof hate, words of purity and of gross sensuality--this strange man\npersecuted them to the last, nor ever ceased to direct his arms against\nall who followed that gentle Jesus of Nazareth of whose power this\nblood-marked, self-proclaimed prophet of Allah was envious.\n\nHis followers, dazzled by the glare of his brilliant victories or\nsolicitous for self-preservation, constantly swelled in numbers, but\nthere were a few who, like Kedar, had heard of the peaceableness of the\nreligion of Jesus Christ, and who began to sicken of the flow of blood\nwhich deluged the sands of El Hejaz, and ran even into the Nejd, the\nborders of Syria, and of Arabia-Felix.\n\nKedar often longed for the friendly touch, the hearty, kindly words, of\nthe friends whom he had met and parted from as in a dream. He had soon\nrefused to believe in Mohammed's divine appointment. Even this Bedouin\nyouth had enough penetration to see that religion must stand upon its\nresults, and that the private life of Mohammed would not stand the test\nof inspection. Fain would he have left his ranks many and many a time.\nThe brand of coward he knew could not be attached to him for leaving\nvictorious ranks to ally himself with the few and feeble Jews, yet there\nwas something in the idea of \"turning his coat\" which he did not like.\nHe imagined in a vague way that such a proceeding would compromise his\nprinciples of honor, and he had not reached the wisdom of that great\neducator, Comenius, who, not long ere his death, wrote a treatise upon\n\"the art of wisely withdrawing one's own assertions.\" So he fought\ndoggedly on, until circumstances again threw him into the bosom of his\nfriends.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nTHE FAMILY OF ASRU.\n\n    \"God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.\"\n\n\nOn the evening upon which the Battle of the Ditch was fought, the wife\nof Asru, and his daughter, Sherah, now almost grown to womanhood, were\nreturning from performing Tawaf at the temple. They had prayed for the\nsuccess of the Koreish expedition; they had drank of the well of Ismael,\nZem-Zem, and had poured its water on their heads. Now they were\nhastening home to offer prayers to their household gods in the same\ncause, for, during Asru's apostasy to the Moslem ranks, his wife, a\nwoman of the Koreish, and her family had never swerved from their\nhostility to Mohammed and all connected with him. For their obstinacy in\nthis, they had been cruelly abused by Asru, who, with the superiority\nwhich most men in the East assume over women, ruled as a tyrant in his\nhouse.\n\nIt was with unspeakable satisfaction that Sherah and her mother found\nthat Asru had at last broken all connection with the prophet, but a\nchange had come into his manner which was to them most unaccountable.\nInstead of cruelty now was kindness; instead of stormy petulance, now\nwas patience; and yet, Asru had not mentioned the cause of his new life.\nA sort of backwardness on the subject, a desire to know more of it\nbefore communicating with others, strove with him against the dictates\nof his conscience, and he had as yet been dumb. He had not concealed his\nconnection with the little band of Jewish Christians. In spite of the\njeers of his friends among the Koreish, he had attended their meetings\nregularly. That had been the extent of his active Christian work; yet\nhis life had been preaching while his lips were still.\n\nSherah and her mother talked of him as they walked.\n\n\"Mother, however it be, father was never kind until he went to the\nJewish meetings.\"\n\n\"True. Yet many of these same Jews are wicked, thieves, low robbers, not\nfit for such as Asru to mingle with,\" said the mother haughtily.\n\n\"Yet not the Jews who attend the church,\" returned the girl, quickly. \"I\nknow them. Most of them are poor, but not thieves; they seem quiet,\nindustrious people. Then, Amzi attends there now, you know, and Yusuf,\nwho, when the plague was raging, spent weeks in attending the sick. Did\nhe not come to father and sit with him night after night, when,\nmother--I shame to say it--both you and I fled!\"\n\nThe mother walked in silence for a moment.\n\n\"There must be some strange power that urges a man to do such acts,\" she\nsaid, musingly. \"It would be easier far to go out to battle, urged on\nby the enthusiasm of conquest, and cheered by the music and clash of\ntimbrels to deeds of bravery. It takes a different spirit to enter the\nhouses of filthy disease, to court death in reeking lazar-houses, to sit\nfor weeks watching hideous faces and listening to the ravings of madmen\nthrough the long, hot nights of the plague-season.\"\n\n\"Mother, I am convinced that their religion prompts them to do it. What\nelse can it be?\"\n\n\"What is their religion?\"\n\n\"I know not; yet we may know for the going, perhaps. See, the lights\ngleam in their little hall. They hold meeting to-night. Let us go.\"\n\n\"What! And let the proud tribe of the Koreish, the guardians of the\nCaaba, see a woman of the Koreish enter there?\"\n\n\"We can go in long cloaks, mother, and it is well-nigh dark. Come, will\nyou not?\"\n\nThe pleading voice was so earnest that the mother consented. Yet, that\nthe influence of the gods in the result of the battle might not be lost,\nthey first entered their own house, prostrated themselves before the\ngods, and besought their aid in the Koreish cause. Then, donning long\nouter cloaks, and veiling their faces closely, the two slipped out of a\nback way and stealthily hastened towards the Jewish church.\n\nIt was late when they arrived. Neither Yusuf nor Amzi was present to\nraise the hearts of their hearers with words of simple and earnest\npiety, no voice of Manasseh was there to lead in the songs of praise,\nbut an old man with snowy hair and a saint-like face was standing behind\na table, a volume of the Scriptures before him, and the voices of the\ncongregation, some twenty in number, arose in the old, yet ever new\nwords:\n\n\"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in\ngreen pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my\nsoul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.\nYea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will\nfear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort\nme.\"\n\nThe Koreish woman listened. She could not understand all this. Yet it\nwas beautiful,--\"green pastures,\" \"still waters.\" Could it be that these\npeople knew of an Elysian spot, unknown to Meccans--that their God led\nthem to such favored retreats? She could restrain her impatience no\nlonger.\n\n\"Where are the green pastures and still waters?\" she cried, impetuously,\n\"that I too may go to them!\"\n\nThe old man smiled with serene kindness. \"Daughter,\" he said, \"the green\npastures and still waters are the pleasant places of the soul. Hast thou\nnever known what it was to have doubts and fears, restlessness and\ndissatisfaction in the present, uncertainty for the future, a feeling\nthat there is little in life, and a great gulf in death?\"\n\n\"I have felt so almost every day,\" she replied, passionately.\n\n\"Hast thou not found comfort in thy gods?\" he asked, gently.\n\n\"Alas, I fear to say that I have not!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"And why fearest thou thus?\" he said.\n\n\"Ah, knowest thou not that the gods are gods of vengeance?\" she replied\nin an awed whisper.\n\n\"I know naught of your gods,\" he returned. \"Our God is a God of love. He\ngives us the certainty of his presence ever with us in this life, his\ncompanionship in death, and the privilege of looking upon his face and\nbeing 'forever with the Lord' in the world to come.\"\n\n\"And are you not afraid of death?\" she asked. \"To me it seems a dreadful\nthing. It makes me shudder to think that I too must one day suffer the\nstruggle for breath, and then lie still and cold.\"\n\n\"To those who love the Lord 'to die is gain,'\" he said. \"Have we not\nsung 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I\nwill fear no evil, for Thou art with me'? Surely one who believes that,\nand knows that he is going to be always with the Lord, always able to\nlook on his face, need not fear death.\"\n\n\"It is a beautiful thought,\" the woman said, bowing her head on her\nhands.\n\n\"Yet not more beautiful than the thought that the Holy Spirit is ever\nwith us; that Jesus himself is our brother, and understands all our\nlittle troubles; that he has promised to help us in overcoming all evil.\n'For every one that asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth, and\nto him that knocketh it shall be opened.' 'If a son shall ask bread of\nany of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? If he ask a fish,\nwill he for a fish give him a serpent? Or if he shall ask an egg, will\nhe offer him a scorpion? If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good\ngifts to your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give\nthe Holy Spirit to them that ask him.' Daughter, these are the very\nwords of Jesus. Do they not show you the way to the still waters and\ngreen pastures? Do you not see that the love of our God acts upon the\nheart as gentle showers upon the barren land, causing it to rejoice and\nbring forth fruit worthy of being presented to our Lord and Master? 'He\nhath loved us with an everlasting love.' He loves us ever, therefore in\nour returning this love to him doth the 'peace of God that passeth all\nunderstanding' lay hold upon our hearts.\"\n\n\"But ye are Jews!\" she said. \"Such promises are not for the Koreish.\"\n\n\"Such promises are for all,\" was the confident reply. \"Jesus said\nwhosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.\nNone so sinful that Jesus cannot wash out the stain; none are excluded\nfrom his mercy. Daughter, believe, receive. Let the love of God enter\nthine heart, and repent best by doing thine evil deeds no more. Only\ncome to Jesus himself. Only have faith in him.\"\n\nThe Koreish woman hid her face in her hands again, and answered nothing.\nThe old man turned to the Scriptures and read the story of Jesus and the\nwoman of Samaria, raising his voice in triumphant fervor as he reached\nthe words: \"Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall\nnever thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a\nwell of water springing up into everlasting life.\"\n\nThen he turned to the words spoken by Jesus to his disciples just before\nhis betrayal, and read: \"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto\nyou. Let not your heart be troubled,\" and, \"Abide in me, and I in you.\nAs the branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine,\nno more can ye except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the\nbranches; he that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth\nmuch fruit; for without me ye can do nothing.\"\n\nThe woman listened. With the quick appreciation of the Arab for metaphor\nand simile, she grasped the meaning of the words, and a new, wonderful\ntrain of thought came into her mind as she sat with bowed head while\nsimple, pleading, heart-offered prayer was sent up to the Throne of\nGrace, and the parting hymn was sung.\n\nThen the little band gathered around her, speaking words of cheer, and\nthe aged leader dismissed her with a gentle, \"Come again, daughter.\"\n\nAs Sherah and her mother walked home, the last remnant of the fearful\nstorm that had visited Medina passed over Mecca. They saw the ragged\nclouds borne wildly over the northern hills; they saw the stunted aloes\nbending low beneath the sweep of the wind. Yet to them there was a\ngrandeur in it, for there was still upon them the influence of the\nDivine presence, and they thought of Him who \"walketh upon the wings of\nthe wind.\"\n\nAnd as they went on, bowing their heads before its spent fury, Asru,\nAmzi, and Yusuf, far to the northward, struggled on with the fugitive\narmy, wondering at the continued triumph of the false prophet, yet\nserene in the confidence that in the Divine Hands all was well, and that\nin the far-distant end, however blurred to human vision, all must work\nfor good to those who love God, even though the reason of his working,\nthe seeming mystery of the fortunes of the great conflict, might not be\nunravelled until in the bright hereafter, when all things will at last\nbe made plain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nMANASSEH AND ASRU AT KHAIBAR.\n\n    \"Spirit of purity and grace,\n      Our weakness, pitying, see!\n    O make our hearts thy dwelling-place,\n      And worthier Thee.\"\n\n\nThe Koreish, after their disastrous defeat at the Battle of the Ditch,\nreturned in bitter disappointment to Mecca. Many even of the bravest of\nthe tribe felt that it was hopeless to strive against the prophet, whose\nphenomenal success seemed to render his troops invincible. Many, too,\nwith the superstition at all times common to the Arabs, were in deadly\ndread of his \"enchantments,\" and were only too ready to listen to his\nbold assertions that the momentous storm at the siege of Medina had been\ncaused in his favor by heavenly agency; that a great host of angels had\nbeen in invisible co-operation with the Moslems and had drawn their\nlegions about the ill-fated company, crying, \"God is great!\" and\nstriking panic to the hearts of the besiegers.\n\nBecause of these superstitions the hearts of the Arabs failed them, and\nthey day after day lessened in their hostility, and increased in their\nspirit of submission to the now famous prophet of El Islam.\n\nThe Jews, however, held out to the last, and against them the reeking\nblades of Mohammed's army were turned. The Jewish tribes of the\nKoraidha, Kainoka, and the Nadhirites, in the vicinity of Medina, were\nspeedily overthrown, and their goods taken possession of by the Moslems.\nThen, before the blood cooled on the scimitars, these conquests were\nfollowed by the dastardly assassination of the few Jews who were still\nin Medina, and, being possessed of considerable property, were a\ntempting bait to the avaricious prophet, who now, making religion a\ncloak to cover his greed and ambition, went to the wildest excesses in\nattaining his objects.\n\nMany of the Jews, escaping dearly with their lives, fled to the city of\nKhaibar, five days' journey to the northeast of Medina, a city inhabited\nby Jews, who, living in the midst of a luxuriant farming district, had\ngrown rich in the peaceful arts of agriculture and commerce. Others\nhastened thither in the hope that Khaibar might become the nucleus of a\nsuccessful resistance of Mohammed's power in the near future; and among\nthe latter class was Manasseh.\n\nLate one afternoon he arrived in the rich pasture-lands surrounding the\ncity. The air of peace and prosperity, the lowing of herds and bleating\nof sheep, delighted him; and, though weary from his journey, it was with\na light heart that he urged his flagging horse between the long groves\nof palm-trees until the city came in sight.\n\nHis martial spirit glowed as he noted the heavy out-works, and the\nstrength of the citadel Al Kamus, which, built on a high rock, and\ntowering ragged and black against the orange sky of the setting sun,\nseemed to the young soldier almost impregnable.\n\nHe was welcomed at the gates as another recruit to the gathering forces,\nand, on his request, was at once directed to the house of the chief,\nKenana Ibn al Rabi, a man reputed to be exceedingly wealthy. Here he was\ncourteously received by Kenana and his wife Safiya; and, in a long\nconference, he informed the chief of the numbers and zeal of Mohammed's\narmy, urging upon him the immediate strengthening of the city, as it was\nhighly probable that the prophet would not long desist from making an\nattempt upon a tid-bit so tempting as that which Khaibar presented.\n\nThat evening an informal council of war was held in the court-yard of\nthe chief's house. Al Hareth, a brother of Asru, a man who, although an\nArab, had been appointed to high office, and had proved himself one of\nthe most distinguished commanders of the Jewish colony, was present;\nand, among others, Asru himself entered.\n\n\"Asru!\" exclaimed Manasseh, delightedly, hurrying him aside to an\narbor, \"you here! I thought I had become separated from you all in that\nill-fated storm. Where are Amzi and Yusuf, know you?\"\n\n\"Gone to Mecca with Abu Sofian's remnant of an army--as miserable and\nhang-head lot of fugitives as ever disgraced field!\" said Asru\ncontemptuously. \"By my faith, it shamed me to see our brave friends in\ntheir company, even for the journey!\"\n\n\"Why did they go to Mecca?\"\n\n\"Because they were firmly convinced that Mecca will be the next point of\nattack,\" said Asru, \"but methinks they shall find themselves mistaken.\nMohammed will keep Mecca as a sort of sacred spot, dedicated to his\nworship--and the worship of Allah!\" with infinite scorn. \"But Khaibar is\na pomegranate of the highest branches, too mellow, too luscious, too\ntempting, to elude his grasp. Yes, Manasseh, Khaibar will be his next\npoint of attack. However, I am truly glad that Yusuf and Amzi have gone\nhome. The Jews and Christians in Mecca will be safe enough for some time\nto come, and our friends are getting too old to endure much fatigue of\nbattle.\"\n\n\"Aye, Asru, you and I are better fitted to face the brunt of the charge\nand the weariness of the march. The work of Yusuf and Amzi should be\nmilder, though not less glorious, than ours.\"\n\n\"You say well,\" returned the other, with kindling eye. \"Asru, for one,\ncan never forget what they have done for him.\"\n\n\"Asru, are all the stories of the wickedness of your past life--your\ncruelty, your treachery, your blasphemy--true?\"\n\n\"Manasseh, let my past life go into the tomb of oblivion if you will.\n'Tis a sorry page for Asru to look upon. The cruelty, the\nblasphemy,--aye, boy, I was full of it; but treacherous, never! Whatever\nAsru was, and no devil was blacker than he in many ways, he was never\nguilty of perfidy, except you call the trying to free Amzi and poor\nDumah perfidy.\"\n\n\"I am glad,\" returned Manasseh, quietly; \"yet it would not matter now,\nsince our Asru is a changed man.\"\n\nAsru looked at the youth earnestly. \"Manasseh,\" he said, \"does the old\nnature never come back upon you? Or have you never known what it was to\nfeel wrong impulses?\"\n\n\"Wrong impulses!\" exclaimed the other. \"Yes, Asru, many and many a time.\nYet, when one does not even look at the evil, but keeps his face turned\nsteadfastly towards the right, the old self seems to lose its hold. In\ndrawing near to God we draw away from evil.\"\n\n\"Your words, I know, are true,\" returned the other; \"yet the keeping\nfrom doing wrong seems to me the hardest thing in living a Christian\nlife.\"\n\n\"But, Asru,\" said Manasseh, \"perhaps you are not loving enough. The more\nyou love Jesus, and the more you feel him in your life, the easier it\nwill be to turn from temptation--to hate the thing that inspires it. If\nyou really love him you simply cannot do what will pain him.\"\n\n\"But the temptation to act hastily, to speak unkindly, comes upon me so\noften, Manasseh, that I grow discouraged.\"\n\n\"The only safety is in always looking Above for help. Believe me, Asru,\nI speak from experience. Temptation in itself is not sin; the yielding\nto it is. Little by little the temptations bother us less, and we grow\nin grace. You know this is expected of us. Paul speaks of 'perfecting\nholiness in the fear of the Lord.' He says, too, 'The weapons of our\nwarfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of\nstrongholds.' He said, also, to the Philippians, 'It is God that worketh\nin you, both to will and to do of his good pleasure,' and the Lord\nhimself has said, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is\nmade perfect in weakness.' So, Asru, my friend, the whole secret is in\naccepting that gift, in knowing him, and in keeping the soul in a\nconstant state of openness for the working of the Holy Spirit--a\n'pray-without-ceasing' attitude in which one's whole life is resolved\ninto the prayer: 'Thy will, not mine, be done.'\"\n\nAsru regarded Manasseh curiously.\n\n\"How is it, young as you are,\" he said, \"that these things are so plain\nto you?\"\n\n\"Ah, you forget,\" said Manasseh, \"what a blessed home training I have\nhad, and that from my childhood I have had Yusuf for my counsellor. For\nthese Christian friends of my childhood, I never cease to be thankful.\"\n\nAsru turned his face away. \"And I, too, have children, Manasseh,\" he\nsaid in a low voice, \"children who, with their mother, are little better\nthan idolaters, and I have never told them differently.\"\n\n\"But you will teach them?\" returned Manasseh.\n\n\"Ah, yes, if God spares me through this perilous time I shall teach\nthem.\"\n\n\"Have you heard or seen aught of Kedar, lately?\" asked Manasseh,\nabruptly.\n\n\"In the Battle of the Ditch I saw him for a moment, charging furiously\nagainst one of Abu Sofian's divisions. He was in advance of the rest,\nriding with his head bent in the teeth of the tempest. On a knoll above\nme, I saw him for a moment, between me and the sky, his hair and long\nsash streaming in the wind; then the rain came, and I saw him no more.\nAye, but he is a brave lad!\"\n\n\"Poor cousin!\" said Manasseh. \"It is misplaced bravery. Would he were\none of us!\"\n\n\"He is not a Christian; and, unless he were so, a spirit like his would\nscorn to be one of such a craven, contention-torn mob as that which Abu\nSofian brought to the field. Strange, is it not, that the little band of\nChristians find themselves allied to a set of idolaters, against one who\nwould cast idols down?\"\n\n\"Aye, but Mohammed would trample Christians and idolaters alike. Think\nyou that defeat was owing wholly to cowardice of the soldiers?\"\n\n\"Not so much, perhaps, as to bad generalship of the leader,\" returned\nAsru. \"Nevertheless the superstition of the heathen Arabs, and their\nfear when the cry of Mohammed's enchantment was raised, made a craven of\nevery one of them. Manasseh, had we had ten thousand Christian Jews,\nthere might have been a different story.\"\n\n\"We are nearly all Jews, here,\" said Manasseh, proudly. \"Have you happy\nforebodings for the issue of the next combat?\"\n\nAsru shook his head, gloomily. \"There will be a brave resistance on the\npart of our garrisons,\" he said, \"although many of the men are well-nigh\nas ignorant and superstitious as the heathen Arabs; but Mohammed's\nforces have swelled wondrously since the 'enchanted' storm. Well, we can\nbut do our best. Now, I see that the council has assembled. They call\nus. Come.\"\n\nThe two left the arbor and joined the others in the middle of the\ngarden. And there, while the stars shone peacefully above in the evening\nsky, and the palm-trees waved, and a little bird twittered contentedly\nover its nest in an olive bush, these men talked of measures of\nfortification, of tactics of war, and schemes of blood-shed; a\nconversation forced upon them, not as a matter of choice but of\nnecessity--the necessity of a desperate few, earthed by a relentless\nconqueror and a ruthless despot, whose intolerance to all who denied his\nclaims has never been surpassed in earth's history.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nMOHAMMED'S PILGRIMAGE.\n\n    \"Five great enemies to peace inhabit with us, viz.: Avarice,\n    Ambition, Envy, Anger, and Pride.\"--_Petrarch._\n\n\nIn the meantime Yusuf and Amzi had taken up the old routine of life in\nMecca--the faithful doing of the daily round, the little deeds of\ncharity, the duties of business, the attendance at meetings in the\nlittle church. Everything seemed to sink back into the old way, yet\nthere was not a man in the city but held himself in readiness to take\nup arms were an attack made upon them to wrest from them their freedom.\n\nAnd word came that Mohammed was coming,--coming, not in war, but in\npeace, on his first pilgrimage to the Caaba. Mecca was instantly thrown\ninto the wildest confusion. Some deemed the prophet's message honorable,\nbut the majority were dubious, and thought that if Mohammed once gained\nan entrance, notwithstanding the fact that it was the sacred month Doul\nKaada, his coming would be but to deluge the streets with blood.\n\nA hasty consultation was held, and a troop of horse under one Khaled Ibn\nWaled, was sent out to check the prophet's advance. Mohammed, however,\nby means of his spies, early got word of this sally, and, turning aside\nfrom the way, he proceeded by ravines and by-paths through the\nmountains; and, ere the Meccans were aware of his proximity, his whole\nforce was encamped near the city.\n\nA deputation came from his army to the dignitaries of Mecca bearing\nmessages of peace; but their reception was haughty.\n\n\"Go to him who sent you,\" was the reply to their overtures, \"and say\nthat Meccan doors are shut to one against whom every family in Mecca\nowes the revenge of blood.\"\n\nFor days the deputation was sent, with the same result, until at last\nambassadors of the prophet entered with the offer of a truce for ten\nyears.\n\nThe promise of a long respite from blood, and the hope of securing time\nto recuperate their forces, caught the ear of the Meccans. A deputation\nwas appointed to treat with the prophet, and Amzi, though a Christian,\nby reason of his wisdom and learning was chosen as one of the\nrepresentatives.\n\nYusuf accompanied him to an eminence above the defile in which the\nMoslem tents were pitched. A strange sight it was. Far as eye could\nreach, tents, white and black, dotted the narrow valley; horses were\npicketed, and camels browsed; and in the foreground one thousand four\nhundred men were grouped, waiting to hear the issue of the\nconference,--one thousand four hundred men, bare-footed, and with\nshaven heads, and each wearing the white skirt and white scarf over the\nshoulder, assumed by pilgrims. Strangely different were they from the\nordinary troops of the prophet, strangely unrecognizable in their garb\nof humility and peace; yet a second glance revealed the fact that each\ncarried a sheathed sword.\n\nYusuf remained above, but Amzi descended with the embassy sent with the\nmessage that the treaty, if suitable, would be at once ratified.\nMohammed, who, in place of his green garb, now with obsequious humility\nwore the pilgrims' costume, expressed his pleasure at the amicable\nattitude of the Meccans. He was seated upon a white camel named El Kaswa\nin honor of the faithful beast which had borne him in the earlier\nvicissitudes of his fortunes. Beside him, at a table placed on the sand,\nsat his vizier and son-in-law, Ali, to whom was given the task of\nwriting the treaty as dictated by Mohammed.\n\n\"Begin, O Ali,\" said the prophet, \"'In the name of the most merciful\nGod'--\"\n\nSohail, the spokesman of the Meccan deputation, immediately objected,\n\"It is the custom of the Meccans to begin, 'In Thy name, O God.'\"\n\n\"So be it,\" assented the prophet; then, continuing, he dictated the\nopening of the body of the treaty--\"'These are the conditions on which\nMohammed, the apostle of God, has made peace with those of Mecca.'\"\n\nA deep murmur of disapproval arose throughout the Meccan embassy.\n\n\"Not so, O Mohammed!\" cried Sohail again. \"Had we indeed acknowledged\nyou as the prophet of God, think you we would have sent Khaled Ibn Waled\nwith armed men against you? Think you we would have closed the streets\nof Mecca against one whom we recognized as an ambassador of the Most\nHigh? No, Mohammed, son of Abdallah, it must not be 'apostle of God.'\"\n\nMohammed again bowed in token of submission. \"Write thus, then, O Ali,\"\nhe said. \"'These are the conditions on which Mohammed, son of Abdallah,\nhas made peace with those of Mecca.'\"\n\nHe then proceeded to the terms of the treaty, stipulating that the\nprophet and his followers should have access to the city at any season\nduring the period of truce, provided they came unarmed, habited as\npilgrims, and did not remain over three days at a time.\n\nThis business concluded, the embassy from Mecca retraced its way; and\nMohammed, changing his mind about entering the city at that time,\nordered that prayers should be offered up on the spot, that seventy\ncamels should there be sacrificed, and that the pilgrims should then\nreturn home.\n\nThis was accordingly done, and the people went back in some\ndisappointment to Medina, where the prophet announced the success of his\nmission in a new passage from the Koran:\n\n\"Now hath God verified unto his apostle the vision wherein he said, Ye\nshall surely enter the holy temple of Mecca, if God please, in full\nsecurity.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nTHE SIEGE OF KHAIBAR.--KEDAR.\n\n    \"The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than\n    shedding seas of gore.\"\n\n\nIn the same year, the seventh year of the Hejira, Mohammed made the\nexpected attack on Khaibar. The chief, Kenana, got word of his approach,\nand ordered that the country for miles around the capital should be laid\nwaste. For days the long roads leading into the city from every\ndirection, swarmed with a moving line of anxious-faced people, driving\ntheir camels and sheep ahead of them, and leading mules laden with\nhousehold property. Low wagons creaked beneath the weight of fodder for\nthe animals, and corn and dates for the people; and the loud \"Yakh!\nYakh!\" of the camel-drivers mingled with the thud of the camel-sticks\nfalling upon the thick hides of the lazy animals.\n\nAsru was given charge of the expedition for laying waste the country;\nand never was a more considerate destroyer.\n\n\"Here, here!\" he would cry to an aged man, \"let me load that animal for\nyou!\" and he would lift the heavy burden to the back of the pack-mule,\nwhile the old man would say, \"You are surely a kind soldier after all.\"\n\n\"I will carry this sick girl,\" he would say, to another, and would lift\nher as gently as a mother and place her in the shugduf in which she was\nto be conveyed to the city.\n\nHis spirit of gentleness spread among his men.\n\n\"Let us be kind to our friends, men,\" he would urge upon them. \"The day\nis fast coming when we can scarcely be kind to our enemies, be we never\nso willing.\"\n\nSo the people, though sad as they looked back upon their smouldering\nhomes and blazing palm trees, were filled with love for the gentle\nsoldiers, and went up with a new motive in striking for their liberty,\nfor there is naught that will bring forth the strongest powers of action\nlike the impulse of love.\n\nAh, the blight and misery of war! Manasseh looked out from the citadel\nupon the scene which he had deemed so fair--the waving corn-fields, the\ngroves of palms and olives and aloes, the nestling houses, the pastures\ncovered with flocks--now but a blackened and smoking waste, with here\nand there the skeleton of a palm tree pointing upward like a bony\nfinger; and here and there a reeking column of black smoke, or the dull\nglare of a burning homestead.\n\nThe people murmured not. \"Better let it lie in ashes than permit it to\nfall into the hands of the impostor!\" they cried, and they muttered\ncurses upon the head of the destroyer of their happiness and prosperity.\n\nAll were at last in and the anxious waiting began. Keen eyes peered from\nthe citadel night and day. Watchmen were posted at every point of the\nout-works and spies were sent broadcast through the country.\n\nThen the fateful word came. Breathless scouts told of an army fast\napproaching, twelve hundred men and two hundred horse, commanded by the\nprophet himself, his vizier Ali, and his friend Abu Beker.\n\nAl Kamus, the citadel, was immediately crowded with men, and soldiers\nwere posted along the walls, neither strong in numbers nor in arms, for\nmany were armed but with staves and stones. Desperation was in their\nhearts, and calm, resolute faces looked forth for the advancing host.\n\nJust as the morning sun flashed defiantly from the towers of Al Kamus,\nthe Moslem army came in sight. At first it seemed like a moving,\nshapeless mass over the blackened fields,--and as the rising sun fell\nupon it, the moving mass became dotted with glints and lines of silver,\nlike the ripple of waves on a sunlit sea; but the watchers recognized\nthe deadly import of those bright gleams, and by the flash of scimitars\nand lances were able to compute in a vague way the strength of their\nopponents.\n\nOn they came until the stony place called Mansela was reached, and\nthere, beneath a great rock, the host halted. The anxious watchers from\nthe city could not discern the exact meaning of this, but more than one\nguessed that the halt was made for the offering of ostentatious prayer\nby the prophet.\n\nThis indeed was the case. As Mohammed came in full view of the citadel\nhe cried out: \"There, O believers, is the eyrie to which ye must climb.\nBut victory has been promised us. Angels shall again lend us their\ninvisible aid. Therefore have courage, O believers! Remember that for\neach of those vile infidels slain, a double joy awaits you in paradise.\nKnow ye that every drop of an unbelieving Jew shed is as the crystal\ndrops of nectar of paradise to the happy follower of Mohammed, the\nprophet of God. And fear not that ye be slain in this combat, O\nfaithful! Ye will not be slain except your appointed time has come, when\nye must in any case die. Remember that to be slain in battle for the\ncause of Islam is to reap a glorious reward!\"\n\nThen, mounting the great rock, he called with a loud voice: \"La illaha\nil Allah! Mohammed Resoul Allah!\" (There is no God but God! Mohammed is\nthe prophet of God!)\n\nAnd while the fanatics below prostrated themselves he prayed long and\nloudly.\n\nThen the tents were pitched and the siege began. For many days it\nlasted. So abundant had been the supplies of food, and so numerous the\ndroves of animals brought into the city, that those within the walls had\nno fear of famine. But so complete was the devastation of the country\nthat the prophet's troops began to suffer for want of food. Yet they\nwaited, as a suitable time of attack had not arrived. In the meantime\nthey were engaged in digging trenches as a protection to the troops.\n\nManasseh and Asru were much together. They had become like brothers, and\nnight after night they met on the citadel and looked out over the\nstrange scene that was presented to the inhabitants of Khaibar every\nevening during the siege. For, daily, just as the sun was setting, the\nwhole Moslem army, with the prophet praying loudly at its head, set out\nin solemn procession, then proceeded round and round the city until\nseven circuits were completed, as in Tawaf at the Caaba.\n\nMany among the more superstitious Jews of Khaibar and their few Koreish\nadherents felt a thrill of awe as they looked upon this ceremony,\nfearing that the prophet was again practicing his arts of enchantment\nupon them; but the performance never failed to bring the smile of scorn\nto Asru's lips.\n\n\"Blind fanatics!\" he exclaimed one evening. \"A precious set of idiots!\"\n\nBut Manasseh looked serious. \"Asru,\" he said, \"of course, I do not\nbelieve in all this; yet there is a something solemn in it to me. It\nmakes me think of the seven circuits made about Jericho, when the\npriests blew upon the trumpets and the walls fell.\"\n\n\"Ah, but the voice of Jehovah gave the order then; now,\"--and he smiled\ncontemptuously--\"the commanding voice is that of Mohammed, the peaceful\nMeccan trader, anon the gentle prophet of Allah, anon the blood-thirsty\nvulture and cut-throat robber, destroyer of life and liberty.\"\n\n\"Verily, Asru the Moslem soldier has completely changed,\" returned\nManasseh, smiling.\n\n\"Aye, Manasseh, thanks to the peaceful Gospel of Jesus, Asru the Moslem,\nthe lover of war, would now fain see this fair land smiling with happy\nhomes and peaceful tillers of the soil. What is that about the child and\nthe cockatrice?\"\n\n\"'And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the\nweaned child shall lay its hand on the cockatrice' den. They shall not\nhurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of\nthe knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea,'\" quoted\nManasseh solemnly.\n\nAsru looked thoughtfully out towards the distant hills, but he did not\nsee them. He saw a quiet home in Mecca, where a pale-faced wife, a\nbeautiful daughter, and two bright-eyed boys, sat.\n\n\"Manasseh,\" he said at length, \"it may be that I shall be killed in this\nbattle. If I am and you are spared, go to my wife and children. Tell\nthem the Gospel for me. My great regret is that I myself put it off\nuntil too late. Will you, Manasseh?\"\n\nManasseh pressed his friend's hand warmly. \"You may trust me, if I\nlive,\" he said simply. And the soldier was satisfied.\n\n\"Manasseh, I am rich,\" he continued. \"See that my wealth is used for the\nbest.\"\n\nManasseh pressed his hand again, and the tall soldier left him, feeling\nthat, whatever happened, this young man's fidelity and integrity could\nbe depended upon.\n\nAnd now the Moslem army began to weary of inaction. Several desultory\nattacks were made by them, and battering-rams were set in play against\nthe walls, but with no effect, until a grand attempt was decided upon.\nNight had scarcely faded into morning, and the rock of Mansela still\nstood black and shapeless against a gray sky, when a commotion was seen\nin the Moslem camp. Mohammed's troops no longer made the wild onslaught\nof untrained Bedouin hordes. The experience of scores of engagements had\ntaught their leader the necessity of system; and now the host began to\nmove in regular order in three main divisions. Above the center one\nfloated the sacred flag of the prophet; to the right waved Ali's\nstandard, a design of the sun; and to the left fluttered the Black Eagle\nof Abu Beker's division.\n\nThe battle began by an assault led by Abu Beker. Scaling-ladders were\nplaced, and the Moslems swarmed up the walls, but a desperate band led\nby Al Hareth met them, and the besieging party, after a sharp fight, was\ncompelled to withdraw. Shouts of triumph and jeers of derision arose\nfrom the city walls. The Moslems were frantic. Cries of vengeance were\nheard from their ranks.\n\nThen Ali, shouting, \"For God and the prophet!\" dashed forward. He was\ndressed in scarlet, and wore a cuirass of steel. Over his head he waved\nthe prophet's sword, and at the head of his division floated a sacred\nbanner. Straight on he dashed towards a breach in the wall, and there,\non a pile of loose stones, he fixed the standard.\n\nAl Hareth rushed to the fore, and a desperate, single-handed combat\nensued. The Moslem army and the garrison of the city alike held their\nbreath. The contest was unequal. In a moment Al Hareth had fallen, and a\nmighty cheer burst from the prophet's men.\n\nManasseh was stationed at the head of a band of horsemen, whom he was\nnow with difficulty keeping in check. Yet for a moment he forgot all in\nwatching a figure that was ascending the breach.\n\nWhose but Asru's that gigantic form? Whose but Asru's that floating\nturban of white--that helmet in which flashed a diamond placed there by\nKenana's own hand? Whose but Asru's that clanking sword and that\nthree-pronged spear which none but he could wield?\n\n\"Surely now the Moslem will waver!\" thought the youth; and with bated\nbreath he watched this second combat, waged beside the bleeding form of\nAsru's dead brother.\n\nWith dauntless air the Moslem awaited the coming of Asru. They closed\nupon each other. The armies looked on, motionless, breathless, the\ncombatants struggled, a writhing mass, broken only by the flash of the\nspear and glitter of the lance, as deadly blows were dealt or\nparried--and the sunshine rained from above. The very air seemed to\nstand still in watching, and the clash of every stroke was borne, with\npainful distinctness, to the ears of Asru's friend.\n\nThe combat was an equal one, Ali's agility matching well the superior\nstrength of his antagonist, and it was not soon over. At last the Moslem\nseemed to stagger.\n\nThere, there, Asru, strike! He falls, he falls! There is your advantage!\nStrike! Joy, joy! victory is ours!\n\nBut no! Ye gods, what is wrong! Why stands Asru there, helpless? Why\ndoes he not act? By Allah, he loses time! Ha! his turban end has become\ntwisted over his eyes beneath his helmet! Help! Help! Ye gods! Ha! Ali\nrises with a sharp recoil! He strikes! Woe! Woe! Asru is down!\n\nA shout breaks afresh from the Moslem army as the brave Asru's body is\ndragged to one side of the breach. And now the Moslems dash forward like\nan avalanche. The breach widens; the green and yellow turbans swarm\nwithin the walls. Manasseh's horse dash forward. Over the open square a\ndetachment of Moslem horse is spurring, the horsemen bending low as they\nride, their maddened animals, gorgeous in trappings of scarlet, yellow\nand blue, with tails knotted at the ends, \"like unto the heads of\nserpents.\" With regular sway the long spears swing with the motion of\nthe horses.\n\nClash! The opposing forces meet. Men fall. Horses roll over in the dust.\nBack! Back! The Moslems are in headlong flight! Yet one youth fights on.\nStraight for the young Jewish leader he dashes. Blows rain on each side.\nSome of the Jewish horse close round.\n\n\"Keep off, men!\" shouts Manasseh. \"Would ye attack a man fifty to one?\"\n\nBlows fall faster and breath comes in short gasps.\n\nThe Moslem's horse gives way beneath him, and falls with a shriek\nbackwards. The gallant youth springs to his feet, then throws up his\narms and falls. His turban drops off from his brow, and, for the first\ntime, Manasseh recognizes Kedar.\n\nHe turns sick. Is the Moslem dead? No, his heart still beats. \"Here,\nmen, take him into that house. I will seek him later.\"\n\nOn goes the young leader to a fresh scene of battle. Alas! in the\nmeantime the poorly-armed Jews have been everywhere driven back. The\nMoslems have entered the citadel; the Jews give way before them\neverywhere. Even his own hopeful spirit cannot revive them. They are\nseized with a panic and fly, leaving the brave youth almost alone.\n\nManasseh was soon overpowered, bound, and thrown into the corner of a\ngreat hall of the citadel, where he lay apparently forgotten, listening,\nwith heavy heart, to the shrieks and cries of his countrymen without,\nand to the hum of war, gradually growing fainter, until it ceased, and\nhe knew that the conflict was over. The Moslems began to enter the hall,\namong them Mohammed.\n\nThe prophet took his seat at the end of the apartment, and presently\nseveral of the chief citizens were brought in with hands bound. Manasseh\nperceived that a tribunal was being held, and, from his corner, listened\neagerly to the sentence passed upon each.\n\nIt soon appeared that treasure was the prophet's aim. Exorbitant demands\nwere made upon the rich merchants, who, pale and trembling, offered\ntheir all in exchange for their lives. Among the rest, Kenana, with his\nhandsome wife, was brought in.\n\n\"They tell me, Kenana,\" said the prophet, \"that you have immense wealth\nstored up in this citadel. If you desire your life, inform me where this\ntreasure is.\"\n\n\"I have no treasure in the citadel,\" said Kenana, proudly; \"and if I\nhad, the apostle of Azazil should not know of it.\"\n\nThe prophet's face colored with passion. \"Apostle of Azazil! O\nblasphemer!\" he exclaimed. \"Do you then thus defy the only, the true\nprophet of Allah?\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"Then we shall see what can be done with a stubborn infidel spirit!\"\nreturned Mohammed. \"Hither! Apply the torture!\"\n\nA machine of fiendish invention was applied to the chief's hands. His\nfingers were squeezed until the bones cracked; his veins swelled in\nagony; yet no sound escaped his lips. He could not, or would not, tell\nwhere the treasure was concealed, and he was handed over to a Moslem\nwhose brother Kenana had slain. Manasseh closed his eyes in horror, for\nhe knew that Kenana's fate was sealed.\n\n[Illustration: The Moslem's horse gives way beneath him!--See page 76.]\n\nKenana's wife, Safiya, was taken by Mohammed, and on the homeward march\nshe became the wife of the prophet.\n\nManasseh lay there in great depression of spirit. He was weary in mind\nand cramped in body, and it almost seemed as though he were completely\nforsaken. Yet his ever-present source of comfort returned to him, and\nlike a sweet refrain came the words into his mind: \"Thou hast been a\nstrength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge\nfrom the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible\nones is as a storm against the wall.\"\n\nThe half-starved Moslem troops now began to clamor for food, and the\ndefenceless Jewish women were forced to prepare victuals and to serve\ntheir conquerors. Among these women entered Zaynab, the niece of Asru.\nShe placed a shoulder of mutton before the prophet, then went towards\nthe door. Perceiving Manasseh in the corner, she severed his bonds with\na quick stroke of a small dagger, then, shielding him as best she might,\nshe bade him begone.\n\n\"Have hope!\" she whispered in his ear. \"I have poisoned the prophet.\"\n\nManasseh uttered an exclamation of horror.\n\n\"Why not?\" she said, with a laugh. \"Manasseh fights with a lance, Zaynab\nwith poison. Now, fly, ere they see you!\"\n\nManasseh hastened down the dark streets to the house in which Kedar had\nbeen placed. He found the youth moaning feebly. Hurrying out, he caught\na couple of stray camels, and fastened a shugduf in its place. Then,\nraising the youth in his strong arms, he laid him in the shugduf, and\nset off in the darkness.\n\nTo Mecca he must go. It was a long, weary way. He had little money, and\nthe few provisions which a Jewish woman in the house gave him would not\nlast long; yet he trusted to Providence, and remembered with\nsatisfaction that the dates were now at their ripest. He would nurse\nKedar tenderly; they would journey in the cool shades of night when\nthere was less danger of being stopped on the way. Planning thus, he\nproceeded, as noiselessly as possible, with his precious burden, through\na gap in the wall, and urged his faithful beasts on in the cool night\nbreezes over the blackened plain.\n\nThen he thought of Asru. Asru must not be left to be rudely thrown into\na grave by infidel hands. There was danger in it, but he must go back.\nKedar was sleeping. He fixed the camels by a charred palm grove, and\nwent back, with flying feet, through the gloom. The towers of Al Kamus\nrose above him, with lights twinkling on the battlements. He wondered if\nthe prophet were yet alive and what would be the result to Arabia if he\nwere dead. On, on, through the darkness, until the fatal breach was\nreached. It was quite deserted, peopled only by a heap of dead bodies,\nfrom which, in the night time, the superstitious Arabs shrank in horror.\nGroping among them, he soon came upon Asru's huge form, which he readily\nrecognized by its armor. He dragged the precious clay of his friend from\nthe mass of dead and brought it, with difficulty, outside of the wall;\nand there beneath a palm tree, he hollowed out a lonely grave,\nloosening the clay with a battle-axe taken from a dead Arab, and\nthrowing the clods out with his shield. He then cut a wisp of hair from\nthe dead soldier's long locks, placed it in his bosom, kissed the cold\nbrow, and uttered a short prayer over the lifeless form. Tenderly he\nplaced the body in the shallow grave, and covered it with the clay,\nthen, breathing a last farewell, left Asru forever in this life.\n\nIn the meantime Mohammed and one of his followers had begun to eat of\nthe poisoned mutton. The soldier was ravenous with hunger, and set upon\nthe tempting roast with eager relish. Mohammed partook of it more\nslowly.\n\nSuddenly the soldier threw up his arms, and fell back in a convulsion.\nMohammed started back in consternation. He, too, felt pain, and raised\nthe cry of \"Poison!\" The Moslems came rushing in in great alarm.\nAntidotes were given him, and he shortly recovered, with but a slight\nsensation of burning in his head. The poor soldier was soon stiff in\ndeath.\n\nMohammed sent for the woman who had brought him the mutton. She came at\nonce.\n\n\"Know you who put the poison in this meat?\" he asked.\n\n\"It was I,\" she confessed, boldly.\n\n\"And how dared you perpetrate so wicked a scheme?\"\n\n\"If you were a true prophet,\" she replied, \"you would have known that\nthe meat was poisoned; if not, it were a favor to Arabia to rid it of\nsuch a despot.\"\n\n\"See then,\" exclaimed the prophet, \"how Allah hath preserved the life of\nhis apostle! Behold, I forgive you. Return to your tribe, and sin not in\nlike manner again.\"\n\nSo saying, with one of his strange freaks of magnanimity, he waved her\noff, and soon afterward went to rest.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nMANASSEH AND KEDAR AT MECCA.\n\n    \"Home, sweet home.\"\n\n\nThe flame of a smoky oil-dip dimly lighted a spacious room in the house\nof Amzi. At the low table sat Yusuf and his friend with a chart before\nthem, anxiously following, with eye and finger, the course of Mohammed's\nnorthern exploits.\n\nThe thoughts of both were with Manasseh. A knock sounded at the bolted\ndoor. Yusuf opened it, and there, like a cameo in the setting of\ndarkness, was the youth himself.\n\n\"Manasseh, my son!\" cried both in astonishment.\n\nHe stepped in, now laughing, now brushing tears from his eyes. \"There!\"\nhe said, freeing himself from their embraces, \"I have one more surprise.\nI come like a grandee, bearing my company in a litter. Help me bring him\nin.\"\n\nThey stepped out, and Manasseh's second face, that of Kedar, peered from\nthe curtains of the shugduf. None the less warm was the greeting\nextended to the Moslem, whose weak and trembling frame was an instant\ncall upon their sympathy.\n\n\"Now,\" said Manasseh, piling up a heap of cushions, in his impetuous\nway, \"get us some supper, will you not? I can eat my own share, and half\nof Kedar's. Like the birds, he takes but a peck at a time.\"\n\nSupper was ordered, and soon attendants entered bearing platters, until\nthe copper table was burdened with the most tempting dishes of\nMecca--roast of spiced lamb, slices of juicy melon and cucumber,\npyramids of rice, pomegranates, grapes of Tayf, sweetmeats, fragrant\ndraughts of coffee.\n\nKedar watched with a languid smile. The peace of this quiet home life\naffected him almost to tears. Strange had been his emotions when he\nawoke to consciousness in the shugduf, alone with Manasseh, in the\nwilderness--feelings first of indignation, then of gratitude, then of\nadmiration for Manasseh, in whom he now discovered the leader of the\nJewish horse. And on the way this admiration had ripened into love for\nthe unselfish Jewish youth.\n\nThe weariness of the long journey began to tell upon him now, and he was\nglad that he was among friends. He could eat but little, and was content\nto listen to Manasseh's bright talk, and to watch him as, with flashing\neye and eloquent gesture, he fought over again the Battle of Khaibar, or\nwhen, with hushed tone and tearful eye, he told of the death of Asru,\nand his lonely burial.\n\n\"I must seek his widow and his children,\" said he. \"This is all I have\nbrought them;\" and he drew the tangled, blood-stained lock of hair from\nhis bosom.\n\nSilence fell on the little group as they looked upon it, then Yusuf's\ntones, falling like the low, deep cadence of a chant, repeated the\nwords:\n\n\"And there shall be no more curse, but the throne of God and of the Lamb\nshall be in it; and his servants shall serve him. And they shall see his\nface; and his name shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be no\nnight there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the\nLord God giveth them light; and they shall reign forever and forever.\"\n\n\"Amen!\" responded Amzi, fervently. And Manasseh looked out of the window\ntowards the bright heavens above Abu Kubays, imagining that he could see\nAsru, clad in shining apparel, with a happy smile on his lips, and the\ncourageous eyes of old looking forth with a new love-light from his\nradiant countenance.\n\n\"Do you know his family?\" he asked.\n\n\"Ah, yes; they are now regular attendants at the Christian church. They\nhave destroyed all their household gods.\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed Manasseh, \"is this true! How I wish Asru had known it!\nWhat joy it would have given him!\"\n\nAmzi smiled. \"Dare you think, Manasseh, that he does not know it long\nere this,--that he did not know it even at the breach of Khaibar? I like\nto think that our Asru now has a spiritual body wholly independent of\ntime or space, capable of transporting itself whenever and wherever the\nmind dictates.\"\n\n\"We cannot know these things as they are, in this time,\" remarked Yusuf.\n\"But the day is not very far distant now, Amzi, when you and I shall\nexplore these mysteries for ourselves.\"\n\nSo the talk went on. Kedar listened with interest. He thought it a\ncurious conversation, and felt so strangely out of place that it seemed\nas though he were dreaming, and listening to the talk of genii.\n\nNext morning he was in a decided fever. Then came long days of pain and\nnights of delirium, in which Manasseh and his two friends hovered like\nministering spirits about the youth, whose wounds had healed only to\ngive place to disease far more deadly. In those terrible nights of\nburning heat his parched tongue swelled so that he could scarcely\nswallow; he tossed in agony, now fancying himself chained to a rock\nunable to move, while the prophet urged him on to the heights above\nwhere the battle was raging; now imagining himself fastened near a\nburning furnace whose flames were fed by the bodies of those whom he had\nslain. He would cry out in terror, and beads of perspiration would start\nupon his forehead. He lived the whole war over again, and his only rest\nwas at times when, partially conscious, he felt kindly hands placing\ncool bandages on his burning head, or gently fanning his face.\n\nThe time at last came when he sank into a heavy sleep, and awoke calling\n\"Mother.\"\n\nIt was Manasseh who came, almost startled by the naturalness of the\ntone.\n\n\"I have been very ill, Manasseh?\"\n\n\"Very.\"\n\n\"Long?\"\n\n\"For weeks. But you must not talk. You will soon be well now.\"\n\nThe invalid closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to think. Presently he\nopened them.\n\n\"Manasseh, if I had died, would I have seen Asru?\"\n\nManasseh was embarrassed. \"I--I cannot say,\" he stammered. \"I do not\nknow you well enough to be sure.\"\n\n\"You do not think I should. I do not think so either,\" he returned\ndecidedly, and closed his eyes again.\n\nIn a few days he was able to talk.\n\n\"Manasseh, did I hear Yusuf praying for me once when I was ill?\"\n\n\"He prayed for you every day,--not only that you might be spared to us,\nbut that you might come to know Jesus, and to reject Mohammed.\"\n\n\"I do not think that I ever accepted him--that is, in a religious\nsense,\" he returned.\n\nManasseh's eyes opened wide in astonishment. \"Then why did you follow\nhim?\" he asked.\n\n\"Because, I suppose, his successes dazzled me. It seemed a grand thing\nto be a hero in the war--to ride, and charge, and drive all before me.\nAye, Manasseh, it is after the war that the scales fall from one's\neyes.\"\n\n\"How could you, then, follow one whom you did not accept, and must,\ntherefore, have deemed an impostor?\"\n\n\"I tell you, Manasseh, I gave little heed to matters of religion. For\nthe first time, during the last few days, I have thought of a religious\nlife, or of a hereafter, as I lay here feeling that but for you and your\nfriends, I should even now be in the unknown land beyond the grave.\"\n\nManasseh talked long and earnestly to the now convalescent youth. Yusuf\nand Amzi too talked gently to him when he seemed inclined to hear, but,\nin his present weak state, they deemed that the consciousness of living\nin a godly house would appeal more strongly than words of theirs. The\nweeks passed on, yet he gave no indication that their hopes were being\nrealized. Once indeed he said:\n\n\"Manasseh, would that I had had a godly training such as yours!\"\n\n\"Did your mother not tell you of these things?\"\n\nKedar shook his head. \"My poor mother drifted away from her early\ntraining in our half-heathen Bedouin atmosphere,\" he said. \"The\nBedouins know little of Christ. They have traditions of the creation, of\nthe deluge, and such old-time stories; in all else they are almost\nheathen. When I am well, Manasseh, we will go to them--to my father--and\nyou will tell them, Manasseh?\"\n\nManasseh nodded a smiling assent.\n\nIt was with no little trepidation that Yusuf and Amzi watched for some\nsign of spiritual growth in the young Bedouin. As the days wore on, and\nhe was able to get about, though still weak, he was willing to attend\nthe Christian meetings; but he sat in silence, and persisted in wearing\nthe garb of a Moslem. The friends did not understand his attitude. They\ndid not recognize the sort of petulant shamefacedness that hindered him\nfrom coming forth boldly in defence of principles which he fully\nendorsed in his secret heart, and made him fear to cut himself loose\nfrom the side on which he had taken so bold a stand, lest the epithet of\n\"turncoat,\" be fixed upon him. Kedar had not yet been touched by that\n\"live coal\" which alone can set man in touch with God, and free him from\nall human restrictions. But though he said little, he was thinking\ndeeply. He was not indifferent; and there is ever great room for hope\nwhere there is not indifference.\n\nAnd while the little Meccan household was thus engrossed in its own\ncircle, momentous events were happening without the capital.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nINTERVENING EVENTS.\n\n\nDuring the months that followed, Mohammed still went on in his career of\nconquest--a course rendered easier day by day, as his enemies were now\nweak indeed. The tribes of Watiba, Selalima and Bedr speedily gave way\nbefore him, but were permitted to remain in their homes upon the\npayment of a heavy yearly tribute.\n\nHe made one more pilgrimage to Mecca, and on this occasion the Koreish,\nin accordance with the truce, offered no resistance; hence for three\ndays the prophet and his shaven followers walked the streets of Mecca,\nand performed Tawaf at the Temple.\n\nMohammed found the Caaba still desecrated by idols, and, while pressing\nhis lips to the sacred Black Stone, he solemnly vowed to conquer Mecca\nand to remove the pollution of images from the floor of the sanctuary.\n\nIn the meantime, the prophet enticed many of the most prominent families\nof Mecca to his standard. By his marriage with the aunt of Khaled Ibn\nWaled he secured the alliance of that famous soldier; and by marrying\nOmm Habiba, daughter of Abu Sofian, he hoped to gain the friendship of\nhis ancient and inveterate enemy.\n\nBut time seemed to lag, and his restless spirit soon set itself to look\nabout for some pretext by which he might attack Mecca. A casual skirmish\nof a few soldiers of the Koreish with a detachment of his soldiers gave\nthe necessary excuse, and he at once charged the Koreish with having\nbroken the truce. They were anxious to make overtures of peace, but\nMohammed would listen to nothing.\n\nAll saw plainly that no concessions would conciliate a conqueror thus\nbent upon hostility, and the attitude of Mecca became that of a patient\nwaiting, a dread looking for a surely impending calamity ready to fall\nat any hour.\n\nAnd yet, when it did come, the Meccans were not expecting it, so silent,\nso sudden was the swoop of the conqueror. Every road leading to Mecca\nwas barred by Mohammed, so that none might tell of his plans. All his\nallies received a mysterious summons to meet him at a point some\ndistance from Mecca, and they came none the less readily that they did\nnot know why they were thus assembled.\n\nWith a host of ten thousand men, Mohammed set out over the barren\nplains, and through the defiles of the mountains. Like a vast funeral\nprocession the long train wound its way in a silence broken only by the\ndull tread of the beasts and the whispered ejaculations of the soldiers.\nIn the night they reached the appointed valley. Lines of men came\npouring in from every side, and at last, as a signal to all the rest,\nOmar, the chief in command, gave the order that the watch-fires be\nlighted,--and at once every summit sent up its spire of flame.\n\nThe citizens of Mecca were stricken with awe.\n\n\"I myself will go and see what this means,\" said Abu Sofian; and with a\nsingle companion he set out over the hills. As they stood in sight of\nthe great host below, the step of men sounded near them. They were\nseized as spies, and hurried off to the tent of Omar.\n\nThe bright light of Omar's camp-fire revealed the white hair and\nflashing eye of the grim old warrior.\n\n\"By the prophet of Allah! Ye have brought in a rich prize!\" exclaimed\nOmar, and his dagger flashed in the firelight as he drew it to plunge\ninto Abu Sofian's bosom. But deliverance was near. Out from the darkness\ngalloped Al Abbas, uncle of Mohammed, mounted on the prophet's white\nmule. He caught the Meccan up with him, and hastened off to the tent of\nthe prophet.\n\n\"Ha!\" exclaimed Mohammed, \"you have come at last, Abu Sofian, to\nacknowledge the supremacy of the prophet of Allah?\"\n\n\"I come,\" said Abu Sofian surlily, \"to beg mercy for my people.\"\n\n\"Will you, then, acknowledge Mohammed as the prophet of God? Do this,\nAbu Sofian, and thy life shall be spared, and terms of peace granted to\nall Meccans who are willing to follow their leader's example.\"\n\nAbu Sofian gave a surly assent, and was set free. Favorable terms for\nthe inhabitants of the city were then presented to him; and, that he\nmight be able to take back with him a full account of the strength of\nthe prophet's army, he was placed with Al Abbas at the head of a narrow\ndefile, through which the whole army, with fluttering banners and\nproudly flapping standards, passed before him.\n\nEven the stern old warrior stood aghast at the mighty multitude. He\nreturned to the city, and, from the roof of the Caaba, once more\nassembled the people of Mecca. Then, while they listened, with bowed\nheads and heaving sobs, he told them of the great host, of the\nuselessness of resistance, and of the terms offered in case of\nsubmission. To this course, humiliating as it was, he strongly urged\nthem. Silent in despair, or weeping wildly, they returned to their\nhomes, and that night the darkness which fell seemed like a pall upon\nthe stricken city.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nTHE TRIUMPHANT ENTRANCE INTO MECCA.\n\n    \"One murder made a villain; millions, a hero.\"--_Porteus._\n\n\nUpon the following morning ere the sun rose, a deputation was sent to\nthe prophet to inform him that his terms had been accepted.\n\nThe people of Mecca were curious to note the triumphant entrance of the\ngreat conqueror. Many, indeed, threw themselves upon their faces in\nagony of lost hope; but the housetops swarmed with people, and the side\nof Abu Kubays was moving with a dense crowd of women and children, who,\nat a safe distance, watched for the strange pageant.\n\nThe prophet was allowed to enter the borders of the town unmolested, but\nwhen the deserter, Khaled Ibn Waled, appeared, the rage of the Koreish\nknew no bounds; a howl of derision arose, and an ungovernable mob fired\nstraight upon him with their arrows. Khaled dashed upon them with sword\nand lance, but Mohammed, noting the commotion, rode up and ordered him\nto desist.\n\nThe melee subsided, and, just as the sun rose over Abu Kubays, the\nconqueror entered the city. He was habited in scarlet, and mounted upon\na large Syrian camel; and, as he rode, followed by the whole host of his\narmy, he repeated aloud passages from the Koran.\n\nStraight on towards the Caaba he went, looking neither to right nor to\nleft. Its gates were thrown open before him, and the vast procession,\nwith the prophet at its head, performed Tawaf about the temple. Then,\nere the mighty trampling ceased, Mohammed entered the Caaba--that Caaba\nin which he had been spat upon and covered with mud thrown by derisive\nhands. Little wonder that he felt his triumph complete!\n\nThree hundred and sixty idols still stared from the walls of the temple,\nand, ere night fell, not an image remained to pollute an edifice in\nwhich, if in ever so blind a manner, the name of the living God had been\nonce mentioned.\n\nMohammed then took his stand upon the little hill Al Safa, and gave the\ncommand that every man, woman, and child in Mecca, save those detained\nby illness, should pass before him.\n\nKedar found his weakness a sufficient reason for remaining at home, but\nYusuf, Amzi, and Manasseh were forced to join the long procession.\n\nOne by one, the inhabitants knelt before the victor, renouncing idolatry\nand declaring their fealty to him as their governor and spiritual head.\nBut a few among the Christian Jews refused to acknowledge him as the\nprophet of God.\n\n\"As conqueror we accept you,\" they said; \"as subjects we will obey you\nin all that does not interfere with our worship of the true God, and his\nSon, the Christ. But as Mohammed prophet of God, we will not acknowledge\nyou.\"\n\nThe prophet, however, was in a lenient frame of mind. At no time a cruel\ntyrant when victory was once assured, he was still less inclined to be\nso upon a day when everything augured so favorably for the future.\nMoreover, when it seemed to him practicable, Mohammed delighted in\nshowing mercy. This trait is but one of the incomprehensible features of\nhis strange, contradictory character.\n\n\"So be it,\" he returned, graciously. \"I give you your lives and\nproperty. They are a gift from the prophet ye despise. Yet, lest ye be\nstirrers up of sedition, I enjoin you to leave the city with what\nexpedition ye will. Go where ye please, provided it be out of my\ndominions; take what time ye need to settle your affairs, and dispose of\nyour property; then, in the name of Allah, I bid you good speed.\"\n\nThe Jews, among them Yusuf and Amzi, passed thankfully on. A tall,\ngaunt, Bedouin woman, with flashing eyes and hands showing like the\nclaws of a vulture beneath her black robe, came next. It was Henda in\ndisguise.\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed the prophet, with a smile, \"has Abu Sofian taken to\nthe hills again, that his wife thus comes in Bedouin garb?\"\n\nHenda, seeing that her disguise was penetrated, fell at his feet\nimploring for pardon.\n\n\"I forgive you freely,\" he said, raising her to her feet. \"You will now\nacknowledge your prophet?\"\n\n\"Never!\" cried the Koreish woman.\n\n\"Boldly said!\" returned Mohammed. \"The wife of Abu Sofian doth not\nreadily follow in the path of her master. He has trained her but poorly.\nYet, go in peace, O daughter of the Koreish, and know that the prophet\nof Islam has a merciful heart.\"\n\nThus passed the whole long day until the stars shone through the blue;\nand Mohammed went to rest, serene in his triumph, yet troubled by bodily\npain, for, ever since he had eaten the poisoned mutton at Khaibar, his\nhealth had been steadily declining.\n\nIn a few days he returned to Medina. A fresh revelation of the Koran,\ncommending fully his doctrine of the sword, was there proclaimed from\nthe mosque; and to Khaled was given the task of subjugating the\nremaining tribes.\n\nThe prophet's health now began to give way rapidly, and he resolved upon\na last pilgrimage to the holy city. In the month Ramadhan, at the head\nof one hundred thousand men, the mightiest expedition he had ever led,\nhe started for Mecca. He rode in a litter, and about him were his nine\nwives, also seated in litters; while, at the rear of the procession,\ntrudged a great array of camels destined for sacrifice, and gayly\ndecorated with ribbons and flowers.\n\nAbout a day's journey from Mecca, at twilight, the vast host met the\ntroops of Ali, returning from an expedition into Yemen, and these\nimmediately turned with the pilgrimage. It was a weird and impressive\nscene. In the night, the augmented host now pressed onward, with\nincreased impatience, over a plain strewn with basaltic drift. The soft\nthud of padded feet sounded over the hard ground. Huge camels loomed\nshapelessly through the uncertain haze. No voice of mirth or singing\narose from the vast assemblage, but the night-wind sighed through the\nribs of the scant-leaved acacias above, and stooped to blow the red\nflames of the torches back in a smoky glare; while, here and there, a\nmore pretentious light, issuing from between the curtains of a shugduf,\nshed a passing gleam upon the dusky faces of the pilgrims, plodding like\neerie genii of the night over the barren wilds.\n\nNext morning, the host reached Mecca. The prophet once more entered the\nsacred court-yard of the temple, and was borne sadly about the Caaba in\nTawaf. Then, weak as he was, he insisted upon taking part in the\nsacrificial ceremony. With his own hand he slew sixty-three camels, one\nfor each year of his life. Then he ascended the pulpit and preached to\nthe people.\n\nUpon his return to Medina, he preached again from the mosque, enjoining\nupon the faithful strict compliance with the form of worship set forth\nin the Koran and by the example of the prophet--the giving of alms;\nprayer towards the kebla; the performance of Tawaf, and ablutions at\nZem-Zem; prostration prayers at the Caaba, and all the rites of\npilgrimage. Thus did Mohammed formulate the rules for the future\nguidance of the Moslem world.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\nKEDAR AT THE CAABA.\n\n\nOnce more the shades of night hung over the Eastern world. And there,\nwhile the hush of slumber fell upon the hills of the North, the cities\nof the South awoke to life and bustle, for during the earlier half of\nthe hours of darkness the Oriental awakes from the lethargy of the day,\nand really begins to live. The moon, almost at full, and glowing like a\nsilver orb on a purple sea, rose slowly over the black top of Abu\nKubays, tipping its crest with a shimmering line of light, and throwing\nits radiance across the vale below, where all lay shapeless in shade\nsave the top of the huge temple, which, with its pall-like kiswah\n(curtain), arose like a bier above the low houses about it. Upon it the\nmoonbeams fell with solemn, white light, and the young man standing\nalone by one of the pillars of the portico felt a thrill of awe as he\nlooked upon the mysterious structure, and thought of the great antiquity\nof the institution.\n\nFor the moment, lost in contemplation, he was oblivious to the swarming\nof the dusky multitudes now pouring into the court-yard on all sides.\nThen, as the increasing hum fell upon his ears, he gave them his\nattention. It was the scene of which he had so often heard, and upon\nwhich he now looked for the first time. There were the people at Tawaf,\nwalking, running, or standing with upturned eyes, sanctimoniously\nrepeating passages of the Koran; there were the frantic few clinging to\nthe great folds of the kiswah, as though its contact procured for them\neternal salvation; there were the crowds gulping down copious draughts\nof the brackish water of Zem-Zem, or pouring it upon their heads.\n\nThere, too, within a stone's throw of the temple, were the busy stalls\nof the venders, whence issued cries of:\n\n\"Cucumbers! Cucumbers O!\"\n\n\"Grapes! Grapes!--luscious and juicy with the crystal dews of Tayf!\nGrapes, O faithful!\"\n\n\"Who will buy cloth of Damascus, rich and fit for a king? Come, buy thy\nlady a veil! Buy a veil to screen her charms blooming as the rosy light\nof morn, to screen her hair black as midnight shades on the hills of\nNejd, and her eyes sparkling like diamonds of Oman!\"\n\n\"O water! Precious water from Zem-Zem! Water to wash away thy sin, and\nhelp thee into Paradise! O believer, buy water of Zem-Zem!\"\n\nAnd there, beneath the twinkling lights of the portico, sat a group of\nAbyssinian girls, waiting to be sold as slaves.\n\nAs the youth looked upon it all with no little curiosity he observed the\ncrowd give way before a man clothed wholly in white, who proceeded\ndirectly to the Caaba and, pausing beneath the door, gave utterance to a\nloud prayer, while the people about fell prostrate on the ground. Then,\nin a loud voice, he commanded that the stair be brought. Attendants\nhastened to roll the bulky structure into its place, and the priest, or\nguardian of the temple, ascended, and received from his attendants\nseveral buckets of water which he carried into the edifice.\n\nPresently, small streams began to trickle from the doorway, and the\nguardian's white vestments again appeared, as he proceeded to sweep the\nwater out, dashing it far over the steps. The people rushed beneath it,\ncrowding over one another in their anxiety holding their upturned faces\ntowards it and counting themselves blessed if a drop of it fell upon\nthem. It was the ceremony of washing the Caaba.\n\n[Illustration: \"Be not discouraged, my son,\" was Yusuf's reply.--See\npage 87.]\n\nThe youth beside the pillar, though he wore Moslem garb, looked on in\ncontempt; and, barely waiting for the conclusion of the ceremony, walked\nproudly from the enclosure, merely pausing to examine somewhat\ncritically the Black Stone, which, deserted for the moment, was visible\nin the red light of a torch above. Then, passing through the nearest\ngate, he walked, rather feebly, towards the house of Amzi.\n\nYusuf, wearied after a long day's work, was resting upon the carpeted\nMastabah (platform) which forms a part of the vestibule of every\ncomfortable house in Mecca. There was no light in the apartment save\nthat afforded by the dim glimmer of a fire-pan, over which bubbled\na fragrant urn of coffee. His thoughts had been wandering back over\nthe events of his changeful life; events which would culminate, as\nfar as his immediate history was concerned, in his early banishment\nfrom this city of his adoption. The little Jewish band would go\ntogether--precisely where, they did not know,--Amzi, Manasseh, the\nfamily of Asru, a few other devoted souls, and, it was to be hoped,\nKedar.\n\nYusuf's thoughts dwelt upon Kedar. To-night he seemed to feel a sweet\nassurance that his prayers in the youth's behalf were soon to be\nanswered; and, in the darkness, he cried out for the lad's salvation,\nuntil the blessed Lord seemed so near that he almost fancied he could\nput forth his hand and feel the strong, loving, helping touch of Him who\nsaid, \"I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of\nmine.... And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold; them also I\nmust bring; and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold,\nand one shepherd.\"\n\nA step sounded on the door-stone, and the very youth of whom Yusuf was\nthinking entered.\n\n\"Well, my Kedar,\" said the priest, \"have you been enjoying the moon?\"\n\n\"I have been to the Caaba,\" returned Kedar, with amused contempt in his\nvoice, \"yet I have neither swung by the kiswah nor drenched myself, like\na rain-draggled hen, at Zem-Zem.\"\n\n\"And you have not kissed the Black Stone?\"\n\n\"Neither have I kissed the stone. By my faith, if it has become\nblackened by the kiss of sinners, those poor simpletons caress it in\nvain! On the word of a Bedouin, it can hold no more, since it is as\nblack as well may be already.\"\n\n\"The worship of our little church, then, suits you better?\" The priest's\ntone scarcely concealed the anxiety with which he asked the question.\n\n\"You seem to worship in truth,\" returned the youth, solemnly. \"You seem\nto find a comfort in your service which these poor blindlings seek in\nvain. Aye, Yusuf, in living among you I have noted the peaceful tenor of\nyour lives, the rest and confidence which nothing seems to overthrow.\nYou rejoice in life, yet you do not fear death! Could such a life be\nmine, I would gladly accept it. But I do not seem to be one of you.\"\n\nThe priest made no reply for a moment. Kedar did not know that he was\npraying for the fit word. Then his deep, tender tones broke the silence.\n\n\"You believe in Jesus, whom we love?\"\n\n\"I believe that he was the Son of God; that he lived on the very hills\nto the north of us; that he died to reveal to us the greatness of his\nlove. Yet--\" He paused.\n\n\"'Whosoever believeth on the Son hath everlasting life,'\" said Yusuf in\na low tone.\n\n\"I know, but--\" the youth hesitated again.\n\n\"But what, Kedar?\" asked the priest.\n\n\"Jesus said to Nicodemus,\" returned the youth, \"'Except a man be born\nagain, he cannot see the kingdom of heaven.' Yusuf, this is what bothers\nme. I cannot understand this being born again.\"\n\n\"Let us call it, then, just 'beginning to love and trust Jesus,'\" said\nYusuf quietly.\n\nKedar almost started in his surprise. This aspect of the question had\nnever appeared to him before. For a long time he sat, deep in thought,\nand Yusuf did not break in upon his meditations.\n\n\"Is that all?\" he asked at length.\n\n\"That is all,\" returned Yusuf. \"To trust him you must believe in him,\nlove him, recognize his love, and leave everything to his\nguidance--everything in this physical life, in your spiritual life, and\nin the life to come. Then you will find peace. All your days will be\nspent in a loving round of happy labor, in which no work seems low or\ntrifling--happy because love to Jesus begets the wish to do his will in\nevery affair of life; and perfect love renders service, not a bondage,\nbut the joyful spontaneity of freedom.\"\n\nKedar was again silent, then he said slowly:\n\n\"Yusuf, I begin to understand it all now; yet--is there something wrong\nstill?--I have not the overpowering thrill of joy, the exuberance of\nfeeling, the wondrous rapture of delight, which Amzi says he\nexperienced, when, in the prison of Medina, he saw the light.\"\n\n\"Be not discouraged, my son,\" was the reply. \"To different temperaments,\nin religion as in all else, the truth appeals in different ways. If you\nare trusting implicitly now in God's love, go on without doubt or fear.\nMost Christians--growing Christians--find that at different stages in\ntheir experience certain truths stand out more clearly, and, as the days\ngo by, their difficulties clear away like mists before the morning sun.\"\n\n\"Yusuf, can I ever become such a Christian as you?\" returned Kedar, in a\nhalf-awed tone at the thought.\n\n\"My son, look not on me,\" returned Yusuf, tenderly. \"Strive only to\nperceive Jesus in all your life, to find him a reality to you--a\ncompanion, ever with you, walking by your side in the hot mart, riding\nby you in the desert, sitting by you in solitude,--then, where he is,\nevil cannot come. Your life will become all upright, conscientious, and\nloving, for his life will show through yours.\"\n\n\"And do temptations never come to those so blessed?\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, Kedar, so long as life lasts 'our adversary, the devil, goeth\nabout as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.' Yet, think you\nthat the God who 'stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, who layeth\nthe beams of his chambers in the waters, who maketh the clouds his\nchariot, who walketh upon the wings of the wind, who maketh his angels\nspirits, his ministers a naming fire'--think you that such an One is not\nable to stand between you and the tempter? Think you that he before whom\ndevils cried out in fear, is not able to deliver you from the power of\nevil? Kedar, know that the Christian may even glory in his own weakness,\nfor Jesus has said, 'My strength is made perfect in weakness;' and yet,\nwhile thus feeling his helplessness, the believer must ever be conscious\nof the unconquerable strength of Christ, and should rest serene in the\nknowledge that, clothed in the full armor of God, he is able to\nwithstand all the darts of the wicked one.\"\n\nKedar said no more, but from that hour his humility, his patience, his\ngentleness, began to show forth as the outcome of the power of that\nworking of the Spirit, whose fruit is \"love, joy, peace, long-suffering,\ngentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\nKEDAR RETURNS TO HIS HOME.\n\n    \"Death exempts not a man from being, but only presents an\n    alteration.\"--_Bacon._\n\n\nWhen Kedar left Yusuf on that memorable night it was not to sleep. He\nascended the stair and went out upon the hanging balcony, where he could\nlook at the sky and the mountains, and ponder over the conversation of\nthe evening. His was not the excitable, rapturous joy experienced by\nmany, but a feeling of quiet contentment that settled upon his soul, and\nbrought a calm smile to his features.\n\nSo he sat, when Manasseh burst upon him exclaiming, \"What! my invalid\nable to stay up all the night as well as half the day! Come, listen to\nme! I have news!\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"This evening a courier from Medina arrived in the city. He has with him\na proclamation requiring all unsubmissive Jews to leave Mecca by\nto-morrow night at the latest.\"\n\n\"So soon!\" exclaimed Kedar. \"Where are they to go?\"\n\n\"I have just talked with Yusuf, and with Amzi, who, poor fat man! is\ntrying to get a little sleep in the fresh air of the housetop. They\npropose that we join my father's family in Palestine. Of course, I do\nnot object!\" added the youth, with a smile.\n\n\"Think you it will be safe for so small a band to face the dangers of\nthe desert alone?\" asked Kedar.\n\n\"A caravan leaves for Damascus to-morrow,\" replied Manasseh.\n\"Fortunately we may obtain its protection.\"\n\n\"Good! Then I shall turn aside to the table-lands of Nejd and see my\nparents again,\" said Kedar.\n\n\"Think you your parents would join our band?\"\n\nKedar shook his head. \"Not likely. You see my father has lived all his\ndays as a Bedouin. To be tied down to commerce he would consider a\ndegradation. Neither would he become a shepherd, as watching sheep is a\ntask held fit for women only in our tribe.\"\n\n\"And will you stay with them, Kedar?\" asked Manasseh.\n\n\"I know not. We will see what the future has in store; but, at any\nrate,\" he added, half slyly, \"your cousin Kedar will wear the Moslem\nturban no more.\"\n\nThe tone, rather than the words, told all. Manasseh took a quick, sharp\nlook at the face smiling quietly in the moonlight, then he seized\nKedar's hand warmly and whispered, \"I am glad.\"\n\nThe following day was spent in packing and bidding adieux. Yusuf and\nAmzi passed the last hours among their poor, and, from the housetop,\nKedar and Manasseh saw them returning in the evening, followed by a\nragged crowd who clung to their gowns or wiped tearful eyes with\ntattered sleeves.\n\nThe sun went down as the caravan left the city, and on an eminence\nabove, the little Jewish band stopped to take a last look at their old\nhome--Mecca, with its low houses, its crooked streets, its mystic Caaba,\nand its weird mountain scenery.\n\nAll gray it lay beneath the shades of falling night; yet, as they\nlooked, a wondrous change ensued. Gradually the landscape began to\nbrighten; the houses shone forth; the aloe trees became green; the side\nof Abu Kubays sparkled with a seemingly self-emitted light; the rocks of\nthe red mountain were dyed with a rosy glow; the Caaba grew more and\nmore distinct, until even the folds of its kiswah were visible; and the\nsand of the narrow valley shone, beneath a saffron sky above, with a\ncoppery radiance. It was the wondrous \"after-glow\" of the Orient,--a\nscene unique in its beauty, yet not often beheld in so sheltered a spot\nas Mecca.\n\nThe exiles, with tearful eyes, looked upon the fair landscape, which\nthus seemed to bid them an inanimate farewell. Then, as the glow paled\nand the rocks again took their sombre hue, and the city faded in\nredoubled shadow, the little band turned slowly away, and followed in\nthe wake of the caravan now winding through the pass at some distance.\n\nThe Hebrew band consisted of twenty souls, among whom were Sherah, the\ndaughter of Asru, and her mother, and the old white-haired man Benjamin,\nwho had preached in the church and had become a father indeed to Asru's\nfamily.\n\nNeedless to speak of the long, tedious journey. Suffice it to say that,\nwhile the caravan wound through the north of El Hejaz, Kedar and\nManasseh turned aside to the fresher plateaux of the Nejd, and the\nBedouin once more found himself amid the scenes of his boyhood.\n\nHis spirits rose as the cool breeze from the plains struck him. The\nvision of sweet home--sweet to the roving Bedouin as to the pampered\nchild of luxury--rose before him, and he urged his horse on with an\never-increasing anxiety.\n\nFrom neighboring tribes they found out the way to Musa's present\nencampment, then, spurring their horses on over a crisp plain, and\nbeguiling the time with many a laugh and jest, they proceeded in the\ndirection indicated, until, in a broad valley, the circle of tents lay\nbefore them.\n\n\"Come, Manasseh,\" said Kedar, \"let us give them a surprise. Let us take\na turn up yonder hill and swoop down upon them like a falcon.\"\n\n\"Agreed!\" quoth Manasseh; and, with almost childish pleasure, they\nproceeded to make a short detour, and then galloped rapidly down from\nthe hill-crest.\n\nThe encampment was strangely quiet.\n\n\"What is the matter, Manasseh?\" asked Kedar. \"There is scarcely anyone\nabout.\"\n\nA few dogs now set up a savage barking, and a man came out with a heavy\nwhip and drove them, yelping, away.\n\n\"What is wrong, Tema?\" asked Kedar, anxiously.\n\n\"Alas, my young master,\" said the man, \"your father will soon be no\nmore.\"\n\nThe youth sprang to the ground and entered the chief's tent. There lay\nthe brave old Sheikh, dying, as he had scorned to die, in his bed, with\npallid face and closed eyes, his gray hair damp and tangled, and his\ngrizzled beard descending upon his brawny chest, from which the folds of\nhis garments were drawn back. About him knelt his wife and children.\nLois raised a tear-stained face to her son, then buried it again in her\nhands. Kedar threw himself beside the couch. The old man's lips moved.\n\n\"Aha!\" cried he, \"it is blood-revenge! Mizni, bold chief, I have you\nnow! Yes, fly up to your eyrie among the rocks, if you can. I shall\nreach you there! Blood must be spilled. My honor! My honor!\"\n\nHe was thinking of a fray of his youth in which he had paid the dues of\nblood for an only brother. Again, he seemed to be dashing on in the\nchase.\n\n\"On, on, Zebe!\" he cried, in a hoarse whisper, \"on, good steed! The\nquarry is ahead there! See the falcon swoop! Good steed, on!\"\n\nHis voice was growing fainter, yet he continued to wave his arms\nfeebly, and to move his lips in inaudible muttering. Once more the words\nbecame distinct:\n\n\"Here, Kedar, little man! Let father put you on his horse. There, boy,\nthere! You will make a son for a Bedouin to be proud of!\"\n\nA tear rolled down Kedar's cheek as the dying man thus pictured a happy\nscene of his childhood. \"Poor old father!\" he murmured. \"Manasseh, it is\nhard to see him die thus godlessly. Had I but come sooner!\"\n\nThe old Sheikh's breath came shorter. His hand moved more feebly; he\nturned his head uneasily and opened his eyes.\n\nHe fixed them upon his son with a look of consciousness. His face\nbrightened.\n\n\"Dear father,\" whispered the youth, and kissed his cheek.\n\nA smile spread over the old man's face. His lips formed the words \"My\nson!\" His eyes closed, and the old Bedouin was dead.\n\nThe women broke into a low wail, and Kedar, with a tenderness not of the\nold time, strove to comfort his mother. The rites of anointing the body\nfor burial were performed, and all through the evening the different\nmembers of the tribe gathered mournfully in to take a last look at the\nbrave old leader.\n\nWhen night fell Kedar went out; the atmosphere of the tent seemed to\nchoke him. Manasseh stood silently by his side. The wail of the women\nsounded in a low burial-song from within, and groups of men, talking in\nwhispers, gathered before the door.\n\nKedar stood with folded arms and head thrown back, looking upon the\nheavens. A star fell. Every Bedouin bowed his head, for the Arabs\nbelieve that when a star falls a soul ascends to paradise.\n\n\"Manasseh,\" said Kedar in a low tone, \"I cannot let them bury him. They\nwould do it with half-heathen rites.\"\n\n\"Can none among all these conduct Christian service?\"\n\n\"Not one. My mother is the only one who knows aught of Christianity.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Manasseh, \"if you will let me, I shall offer prayers above\nhis grave.\"\n\n\"No, Manasseh,\" said Kedar decidedly, \"these people would resent it in\na stranger. I shall do it; they will grant me the privilege as the right\nof a son.\"\n\n\"And rightly,\" exclaimed Manasseh, surprised and pleased at the\nstaunchness with which his cousin took his new stand.\n\nOn the following day the funeral wound slowly up the defile to the place\nof the lonely grave. And there Kedar prayed simply and earnestly, a\nprayer in which the spiritual enlightenment of the sorrowful people\nabout him was the chief theme. They did not understand all its meaning,\nbut they were impressed by the solemnity and sincerity of the young\nArab's manner.\n\nThen the little heap of sand was raised, and four stone slabs were\nplaced, according to Bedouin custom, upon the grave.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\nTHE DEATH OF MOHAMMED.\n\n    \"Nothing can we call our own but death\"--_Shakespeare._\n\n\nWhile Musa thus lay dying in the tents of Nejd, the cold hand of death\nwas fast closing upon another in the land of Arabia. Day by day the\ngerms of disease pulsed stronger and stronger through the veins of\nMohammed. Monarch of Arabia, originator of a creed which was eventually\nto push itself throughout Egypt, India, Afghanistan, Persia, and even to\nthe wild steppes of Siberia, he must now die. He viewed the end with\nfirmness, and it has been a matter of controversy as to whether in these\nlater days he still had the hallucination of being a prophet.\n\nToo feeble to walk to the mosque, he lay, tended by his wives, in the\ntent of Ayesha, his favorite. Not many days before his death he asked\nthat he might be carried to the mosque. Willing arms bore him thither,\nand placed him in the pulpit, from whence he could look down upon the\ncity, and away to the palm-groves of Kuba. Then, turning his face\ntowards the holy city, Mecca, he addressed the crowds of waiting people\nbelow.\n\n\"If there be any man,\" said he, \"whom I have unjustly scourged, I submit\nmy own back to the lash of retaliation. Have I aspersed the reputation\nof any Mussulman?--let him proclaim my faults in the face of the\ncongregation. Has anyone been despoiled of his goods?--the little that I\npossess shall compensate the principal and the interest of the debt.\"\n\nHe then liberated his slaves, gave directions as to the order of his\nfuneral, and appointed Abu Beker to supply his place in offering public\nprayer. This seemed to indicate that Abu Beker was to be his successor\nin office; and the long-tried friend accordingly became the first caliph\nof the Saracen empire.\n\nAfter this the prophet was conveyed again to the house of Ayesha. The\nfever increased, and the pain in his head became so great that he more\nthan once pressed his hands upon it exclaiming, \"The poison of Khaibar!\nThe poison of Khaibar!\"\n\nOnce, perceiving the mother of Bashar, the soldier who had died of the\npoison in the fatal city, he said:\n\n\"O mother of Bashar, the cords of my heart are now breaking of the food\nwhich I ate with your son at Khaibar!\"\n\nAt another time, springing up in delirium, he called for pen and ink\nthat he might write a new revelation; but owing to his weak state, his\nrequest was refused. In talking to those about him he said that Azrael,\nthe Angel of Death, had not dared to take his soul until he had asked\nhis permission.\n\nA few nights before his death, he awoke from a troubled sleep, and,\nstarting wildly from his couch, sprang up with unnatural strength from\nhis bed.\n\n\"Come, Belus!\" he cried to an attendant. \"Come with me to the\nburial-place of El Bakia! The dead call to me from their graves, and I\nmust go thither to pray for them.\"\n\nAlone they passed into the night; through the long, silent streets they\nwalked like phantoms; up the white road of Nedj they glided, until the\nfew low tombs of the cemetery to the southeast of the city were in\nsight.\n\nAt the border of the bleak, lonely field, where the wind moaned among\nthe tombs like the sighing of a weeping Rachel, Mohammed paused.\n\n\"Peace be with you, O people of El Bakia!\" he cried. \"Peace be with you,\nmartyrs of El Bakia! One and all, peace be with you! We verily, if Allah\nplease, are about to join you! O Allah, pardon us and them! And the\nmercy of God and his blessings be upon us all!\"\n\nThus he prayed, stretching his hands towards the spot where his friends\nlay in their long sleep. His companion stood in awe behind him,\nshivering in superstitious terror, as the white tombs gleamed like\nmoving apparitions through the gloom, and the night-owls hooted with a\nmournful cadence o'er the dreary waste.\n\nWhen he had concluded, the prophet turned towards home. But the\nexcitement of mind which had endowed him with almost supernatural\nstrength now deserted him. His steps grew feeble and he was fain to lean\nupon Belus on his painful way back.\n\nHe grew rapidly worse. His wife Ayesha, and his daughter Fatima, wife of\nAli, seldom left his bedside. When the last came, he raised his eyes to\nthe ceiling and exclaimed, \"O Allah, pardon my sins!\" He then, with his\nown feeble hand, sprinkled his face with water, and soon afterwards,\nwith his head on Ayesha's bosom, he departed, in the sixty-third year of\nhis age, and the eleventh year of the Hejira, A.D. 632.\n\nThe frenzied people would not believe that he was dead. \"He will arise,\nlike Jesus,\" they said. But no returning breath quivered through the\ncold lips or animated the rigid form of him whom they passionately\ncalled to life; and not until Abu Beker assured them that he was really\nno more, saying, \"Did he not himself assure us that he must experience\nthe common fate of all? Did he not say in the Koran, 'Mohammed is no\nmore than an apostle; the other apostles have already deceased before\nhim; if he die therefore, or be slain, will ye turn back on your\nheels?'\"--not until then did they disperse, with deep groans.\n\nMohammed was buried in the house in which he died, his grave being dug\nin the spot beneath his bed; but some years later a stone tomb was\nerected over the grave, and until the present day the place is held so\nsacred that it is at the risk of his life that anyone but a Mussulman\ndares enter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI.\n\nTHE NEW HOME.\n\n    \"On these small cares of daughter, wife, or friend,\n    The almost sacred joys of Home depend.\"\n\n                              --_Hannah More._\n\n\nIn the quiet valley in Palestine life had been dealing gently with\nNathan and his family. The long, long absence of Manasseh was the one\nthing lacking for their perfect contentment.\n\n\"It is well,\" Nathan would say, yet his eyes would turn wistfully\ntowards the South, as though he half-hoped to see the beloved face of\nhis son appearing over the hill. The mother grew weary with waiting, yet\nshe did not murmur, but whispered to her lonely heart, \"Living or dead,\nit must be well.\" Only once she said, \"Husband, he is surely dead,\" and\nNathan replied:\n\n\"Let us still hope, wife, that we may yet see the goodness of the Lord\nin permitting us to behold his face.\"\n\nSo they hoped on, and worked on, amid their orange trees, their corn and\nvegetables, and their sheep browsing peacefully on the hills. And Mary\ntended the jasmine flowers and rose-bushes at the door, carrying water\nto them night and morning, that they might look at their prettiest when\nManasseh came. Only one letter had reached them--a cheery, hopeful\nletter,--but it had been a long time on the way, and the events of which\nit told had taken place many weeks before it reached the Jordan valley.\nIt had told them of Yusuf and Amzi, of the little church, of the\nsender's strange meeting with Kedar, and the news he had gathered of\nLois. Then it had told of the war, and had closed with an affectionate\nfarewell, in which the writer expressed his wish, rather than his\nexpectation, of being able to make his way to the new home soon.\n\nHow long it seemed to Mary since that last word had come! And he was not\nhome yet! She kept the precious manuscript in her bosom, and twenty\ntimes a day she looked down the long valley for the well-known form. One\nmorning she sat by the river, idly plashing her bare feet in its golden\nripples, and looking at the shadows on the little stones near the shore.\nAbout her gamboled a pet lamb, and above, a soft blue sky was flecked\nwith fleecy white clouds. She twirled a sprig of blossoms in her hand,\nbut her thoughts were far away in dear, hot, dusty, dreary Mecca.\n\n\"It is not so pleasant as this, though,\" she thought, \"if Manasseh were\nonly here.\"\n\nJust then the tinkle of a camel-bell was heard,--a strange sound in that\nsecluded spot. Mary looked up, and saw what seemed to be a great many\npeople coming over the hill, camels bearing shugdufs, too, and\npack-mules, heavily laden.\n\nTrembling, she rushed into the house.\n\n\"Oh, mother, what means this? See the people! Manasseh would not bring\nall of those with him?\"\n\nThe mother shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked forth, anxiously.\n\nNearer and nearer came the train. Who were they? Not Manasseh; Manasseh\nwould not come so slowly. Can it be? Not Yusuf! Not Amzi! Yes, yes! O\njoy! It is they!--and many other familiar faces smile also from the\ntrain!\n\n\"Is Manasseh well?\"\n\n\"Yes, Manasseh is well, and happy.\"\n\nSo questions were asked and answered in joyful confusion; and Nathan\ncame in from the hills to bid the travelers welcome. Then the dusty,\ntravel-stained tents were pitched once more, this time on a grassy slope\nby the rippling Jordan. A simple repast was spread, and the company\ndined in royal state.\n\nWith what surprise did Nathan and his household greet the wife of Asru\nand her sweet-faced daughter as sisters in Christ, and with what\nsympathy did they hear of Asru's sad death!\n\nThen plans for the immediate settlement of the little party were made.\nPasture-land in abundance was to be had; hence the majority of the\nnew-comers would be speedily and comfortably provided with new homes.\nAmzi would take up his abode in some comfortable town-house not far\ndistant, and Yusuf would remain with him for the present.\n\nMary and Sherah were friends at once, and ere evening fell, they sat, as\ngirls will, in a cozy nook by the river-side forming plans for walks and\ntalks during the long, bright, summer days.\n\nEvery cloud had drifted, for the time being, from the happy company;\nand, ere they retired to rest, all united with fervor in the words of\nthe grand song:\n\n\"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who\nforgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who\nredeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving\nkindness and tender mercies; who satisfieth thy mouth with good things;\nso that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's. The Lord executeth\nrighteousness and judgment for all that are oppressed.... Bless the\nLord, all his works, in all places of his dominion! Bless the Lord, O my\nsoul!\"\n\nAnd later in that same evening, another group came to Nathan's house.\nThe door was closed, for the evening was chill without. A knock was\nheard. Mary opened the door, and there was Manasseh himself, radiantly\nhappy; and close behind him was another Manasseh with Bedouin eyes.\n\nMother, sister, and father pressed round the youth until he could\nscarcely move.\n\n\"There, there!\" he said, shaking them off playfully, \"my cousin Kedar\nwill be jealous. Mother, this is Lois' son, and there is someone in the\ndarkness here still.\"\n\nThe youth went out. Who was this that he assisted from the shugduf?--the\nliving image of Lois in her girlhood days! Not Lois, but her daughter, a\nBedouin maid, fresh as the breeze from her native hills. And can this be\nLois--this sad-faced yet stately woman? It is, indeed, and the\nlong-separated sisters are once more united. Kedar's brothers are there\ntoo, and one more family is added to the little community.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII.\n\nA WEDDING IN PALESTINE.\n\n    \"God, the best maker of all marriages.\"--_Shakespeare._\n\n\nFor a moment let us look more closely at the little district where the\nJewish band found a home after all their wanderings.\n\nThey settled at a point where the Jordan River, that strange river\nflowing for its entire length through a depression one thousand feet\nbelow the level of the sea, is cut up by many a cataract; and the\nrushing noise of the water, carried from its mysterious source at the\nfoot of Mount Hermon, fills the valley with a music not lost upon ears\nlong accustomed to the dry wastes of Arabian deserts. To the north lie\nplains where cold blasts blow, and mountains whose crests gleam with\nnever-failing snow; yet in the fair vales of Jordan the tempered breeze\nfans the air with the mildness of a never-ceasing-summer, and the soft\nalluvial soil is luxuriant with the rich growth of the tropics. To the\nwest the rugged and picturesque mountains of Judea rise, and to the\neast, at a distance of some ten miles, lie the blue-tinted mountains of\nMoab, rich in associations of sacred history.\n\nIn this favored spot, shaded by waving groves and hidden by vines, was\nthe house of Asru's wife; and at a little distance from it was a well,\nan old-fashioned well such as is seen only in the East, walled about\nwith ancient and worn flag-stones, between which, at one side, the water\ntrickled and ran over mossy stones to the river below.\n\nA large tamarisk tree waved above it, and in its shade, with one knee\nresting on the flag-stone, her hands clasped behind her head, and her\nlarge eyes fixed upon the mountains of Moab beyond, stood Sherah, ere\nthe sun rose, on one beautiful autumn morning.\n\nAn earthen water-pitcher, such as is carried by the girls of the Orient,\nwas beside her, yet she moved not to execute her errand.\n\nThe sun arose behind the mountain; the amber sky became golden; the rosy\npink clouds changed to radiant silver; the birds sang; the dew\nglittered; and the sun shone through the leaves of the trees with a\nflush of green-gold.\n\nThe beauty of the scene touched the girl. In a low, clear voice,\nspontaneous as the song of a bird, she sang: \"For the Lord shall comfort\nZion; he will comfort her waste places: and he will make her wilderness\nlike Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness\nshall be found therein, thanksgiving and the voice of melody.\"\n\nThe song brought comfort to her; for was she not soon to leave this\nfairy spot, this Aidenn, to return to the land of the Mussulman; not the\nland of--\n\n    \"Deep myrrh thickets blowing round\n    The stately cedar, tamarisks.\n    Thick rosaries of scented thorn,\n    Tall Orient shrubs, and obelisks\n    Graven with emblems of the time,\"\n\nbut to the bleak, treeless plains of Nejd, breezy with the warm breath\nof desert-swept winds, bounded by rolling mountains, and dotted by the\nblack tents of those roving hordes of whom it has been said that \"their\nhand is against every man, and every man's hand is against them,\"--the\nfierce, cruel yet generous, impulsive, courteous tribes of the desert.\n\nFor Manasseh and Kedar were both going back to the desert tribes,\nbraving the dangers of persecution, that they might exert an influence\nin christianizing the Bedouin tribes over whom the Moslems as yet had\nlittle power. Sherah was going back as Manasseh's wife, and this was her\nwedding-day. She was willing to go, yet she could not help feeling a\nlittle lonely on this last morning in her mother's home.\n\nPresently the call \"Sherah! Sherah!\" came through the olive groves, and\nthe old nurse hobbled out. The woman was a thorough type of an aged\nArab, lean, wrinkled, hook-nosed, with skin like shrunken leather, and a\nvoice like a raven. Yet Sherah knew her goodness of heart, and loved her\ndearly. She was taking the old woman back with her, for, oddly enough,\nZama had never felt at home in the new land, and often craved that her\nbones might be buried in the old soil.\n\n\"Why disturb me, Zama?\" said the young woman kindly. \"See you not that I\nam bidding farewell to this dear valley?\"\n\n\"Aye, aye, child,\" muttered the old nurse, \"but we must put the\nwedding-gown upon you, and twine jasmine in your hair.\" She stroked the\nglossy masses fondly. \"Ah, to-morrow it must be braided in the plaits of\nthe matron, and the coins will be placed about my precious one's neck;\nyet it seems only yesterday that she was a toddling baby at my feet.\"\n\nThe two women, the one tall and lithe as a willow, the other bent and\nshrunken, took their way to the house. Mary was already there, and\nassisted in adorning the bride.\n\nThe guests arrived, and the simple ceremony was soon over; then the\ncompany sat down to the wedding feast. Lois and her sister talked in low\ntones to the mother of Sherah, who grieved a little at the separation\nfrom her daughter. Happy jests and laughter passed about among the\nyoung people. Amzi went, with beaming face, from group to group; and\nYusuf looked quietly on.\n\nIn the midst of the entertainment some one came to the door.\n\n\"It is a peddler!\" cried one. \"Let us see what he has--perhaps another\ngift for our fair bride.\"\n\nThe young people gathered about the glittering trinkets. Manasseh came\nnear, and, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, placed his hand on the\nman's shoulder. The peddler looked up, and his face blanched with fear.\n\nIt was the little Jew, who, having escaped like an eel from Manasseh's\ncare after the Battle of Ohod, and having become thoroughly frightened\nat the idea of remaining longer in a war-ridden district, had\ndisappeared like magic from the plains of Arabia, and had become once\nmore the insignificant Jewish peddler in the more secure provinces to\nthe north.\n\n\"Do not be frightened,\" laughed Manasseh. \"We no longer take prisoners\nof war; yet, for the sake of old acquaintance, I claim you to partake of\nour feast.\"\n\nThe little man was half-dragged to the table and given a place by\nNathan, who spoke kindly to him. Yet he did not feel at ease. The stolen\ncup seemed to point an accusing finger at him; and he ate little, and\ntalked less.\n\nPresently he caught a glimpse of Yusuf. The sight of the man whom he had\nso nearly delivered to death was too much for him. His little eyes\ndarted about as if suspicious of some design upon his freedom. He could\nnot understand the magnanimity of these people, and, deeming discretion\nthe better part of valor, he sprang from the table, shouldered his pack,\nand was off, to be seen no more.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII.\n\nTHE FAREWELL.\n\n    \"Sondry folk, by aventure y-falle in felaweschipe.\"--_Chaucer._\n\n\nAnd now, our tale draws to a close, and time permits but a parting\nglance at those who have been so long a goodly company of friends.\n\nAmzi has, in his descent to old age, developed a wonderful activity of\nmind and body. He has become one of the most influential members of the\nlittle town in which he has taken up his abode. Realizing as never\nbefore the duty which man owes to man, and fully awakened at last to the\nfact that our talents are given us to be exercised fully, he no longer\ndreams away time in the Arab Kaif; but, from morning to night, his plump\nfigure and good-natured old face are seen, up and down, in the mart, in\nthe council-chamber, in the church, wherever he can lend a helping hand.\nHe has even assumed the role of schoolmaster, and upon the earthen floor\nof an unused hall he gathers day by day a troop of little ones, over\nwhom he bends patiently as they cling to his gown for sympathy in their\nsmall trials, or as they trace upon their wax tablets, with little,\nuncertain hands and in almost illegible characters, the words of a copy,\nor text.\n\n\"Aye,\" he says, \"who knows what these little ones may some day become?\nThey are as impressionable as the wax upon which they write. Heaven\ngrant that the impression made upon them may be mighty for good!\"\n\nKedar has married a Bedouin maid, and is happy in his free life in the\nold land. Naught but the desert could satisfy him; he would stagnate in\nthe calm life which those in the Jordan valley are finding so pleasant.\n\nAs yet he and Manasseh have not been molested in their work by the\nMoslems; and in their remote mountain recesses they are persistently\nfighting against heathendom, and are leading many to live better and\nnobler lives.\n\nAnd Yusuf? He is in his home-land again. Once more he stands upon the\nhighest point of the Guebre temple. The priests have not refused him\nadmittance, for no one has recognized in this harmless old man the once\nGuebre Yusuf.\n\nAh, it is heathen Persia still! The fires flicker upon the altar, and\nthe idolatrous chants arise on the air. Yusuf covers his face with his\nmantle and weeps. He has but a few years of strength before him, but he\nwill spend them in trying to bring the Gospel of love to these poor,\nblind people.\n\nHe grieves for his benighted country; but when the moon slowly rises,\nshedding her soft rays over the old scene, the mountains, the valleys\nbelow, all calm, peaceful, radiant, he is comforted. He thinks of Him\nwho \"created the lesser orb to rule the night,\" and a great joy fills\nhis heart that he has been led to a recognition of Him, and that he has\nbeen enabled to lead others to Him.\n\nHis face glows with serene happiness and hope. He raises his eyes to the\ncalm, deep heavens, and says:\n\n\"O Father, I thank thee that 'mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of\nhosts,' and his dear Son! I thank thee that thou hast led me to see\nTruth! O God, thou hast taught me from my youth, and hitherto have I\ndeclared thy wondrous works! Now also when I am old and gray-headed, O\nGod, forsake me not until I have showed thy strength unto this\ngeneration, and thy power to every one that is to come! And now, Father,\n'what wait I for? My hope is in thee,' the great God, the ever-loving\nFather, now and for evermore. Amen and amen.\"\n\nAnd there will we leave him.\n\n                      \"May he live\n    Longer than I have time to tell his years!\n    Ever beloved and loving, may his rule be!\n    And when old Time shall lead him to his end,\n    Goodness and he fill up one monument!\"\n\n                              --_Shakespeare._\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] The month of Ramadhan was held as holy prior to Mohammed's time;\n    its sanctity was but confirmed by him.\n\n[2] Medina at this time bore the name of Yathrib, but in this volume\n    we shall give it the later and better-known name of \"Medina,\"\n    derived from the earlier \"Mahdinah.\"\n\n[3] The Moslems _now_ assert that the sacred fire went out of itself\n    at the birth of Mohammed.\n\n[4] A fourth, the \"Darb-el-Sharki,\" or Eastern Road, has since been\n    built by order of the wife of the famous Haroun al Raschid.\n\n[5] Joseph Pitts, A.D. 1680, says: \"Mecca is surrounded for several\n    miles with many thousands of little hills which are very near to\n    one another. They are all stony-rock, and blackish, and pretty\n    near of a bigness, appearing at a distance like cocks of hay,\n    but all pointing towards Mecca.\"\n\n[6] Burton says the black stone is volcanic, but is thought by some\n    to be a meteorite or aerolite. Burckhardt thought it composed of\n    lava. Of its appearance Ali Bey says: \"It is a block of volcanic\n    basalt, whose circumference is sprinkled with little crystals,\n    with rhombs of tile-red feldspath on a dark background like\n    velvet or charcoal.\"\n\n[7] By the latest statistics the number of Mohammedans now scattered\n    throughout Asia, Africa, and the south-eastern part of Europe\n    amounts to some 176,834,372.\n\n[8] Moslems assert that upon this night Mohammed was carried through\n    the seven heavens of which El Islam tells.\n\n[9] The initial \"A\" is placed at the top of all Arabian writings. It\n    is the initial of \"Allah\" and the first letter of the alphabet,\n    and is symbolic of the origin of creation.\n\n[10] Burton gives seven hundred.\n\n\n\n     *     *     *     *     *     *\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:\n\nObvious printing errors were repaired; these changes are listed below.\n\nTitle Page     Original text: Elgin, Ill,\n               Correction: Elgin, Ill.,\n\n               Original text: David C Cook\n               Correction: David C. Cook\n\nChapter V      Original text: may know thee as we should.'\"\n               Correction: may know thee as we should.\"\n\nChapter VI     Original text: This hullucination\n               Correction: This hallucination\n\n               Original text: McLellan, Psychology\n               Correction: McLellan, Psychology.\n\n               Original text: See page 23\n               Correction: See page 23.\n\n               Original text: called 'El Amin\"\n               Correction: called 'El Amin'\n\nChapter VII    Original text: be poured on my defenseless and\n               Correction: be poured on my defenceless and\n\nChapter IX     Original text: Death is the end of life\n               Correction: \"Death is the end of life\n\n               Original text: \"Ikh! \"Ikh!\"\n               Correction: \"Ikh! Ikh!\"\n\nChapter XIV    Original text: He forebore to thrust\n               Correction: He forbore to thrust\n\nChapter XVI    Original text: For this I am thankful.\n               Correction: For this I am thankful,\n\nChapter XVII   Original text: giving him a shake. \"what\n               Correction: giving him a shake, \"what\n\n               Original text: the fair little Imra\n               Correction: the fair little Imri\n\nChapter XIX    Original text: \"Here, Manasseh!\" interupted Yusuf\n               Correction: \"Here, Manasseh!\" interrupted Yusuf\n\nChapter XXIII  Original text: peace with those of Mecca.\"\n               Correction: peace with those of Mecca.'\"\n\nChapter XXVII  Original text: thus comes in Bedouin garb?'\"\n               Correction: thus comes in Bedouin garb?\"\n\nFootnote 2     Original text: derived from the earlier \"Mahdinah\"\n               Correction: derived from the earlier \"Mahdinah.\"\n\nFootnote 6     Original text: like velvet or charcoal.\n               Correction: like velvet or charcoal.\"","title":"The Days of Mohammed","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":61726}