IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A ^^* ^ /^!# :/. "^ I/.. ^ v.. 1.0 I.I 11.25 "■ EiS 12.2 2.0 t as. ■^ I- •UUU i U 11.6 I Photographic Sciences Corporalion 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) •72-4503 \ iV ^ ^. '- ^U 5 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical IVIicroraproductions / Institut canadisn de microreproductions histuriques 1 O^ Technical and Bibliographic NCiSs/Notes technique* et bibliographiques The Institute Has aitempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. Q Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ D Couverture endommagie Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie et/ou peliiculie □ Cover title missing/ D y D D D titre de couverture manque I I Coloured maps/ □ Cartes giographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior mdrgin/ La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion >e long de la marge intirieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que cartaines pages blanches ajouties lors d'une restauration epparaissent dans la texte, mais, lorsque cela Atait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 f ilmies. Additional comments:/ Commentaires supplAmentaires; L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 4t< possible de se procurer. Les ditaiis de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-§tre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier una image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la methods norrna'e de filmage sont indiquAs ci-dessous. □ Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur □ Pages damaged/ Pages endommagies n Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaur6es et/ou pellicui6es I — I Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ □ Pages dicoiortos, tacheties ou piqu6es Pages detached/ Pages d6tach6es Showthrough/ Transparence Quaf)ty of prir Quality in6gale de I'impression Includes supplementary materii Comprend du materiel supplAment&ire Only edition available/ Soule Mition disponible I j Pages detached/ r~"| Showthrough/ I I Quaf)ty of print varies/ I I Includes supplementary material/ I — I Only edition available/ Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc.. have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement uu partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une peiure, etc.. ont M fiimies d nouveau de fa^on A obtenir la meilleure image possible. This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiquA ci-dessout. 10X 14X 18X ^■■■H 22X 28X 30X 7 12X 16X 2DX 24X 28X 32X The copy filmed heire hts been reproduced thanks to the generosity o\<: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grAce d la g6n6rosit6 de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada The images appearing herfi arn the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in k'ieping with the filming contract spec.rications. Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettet6 de l'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on tho last page with a printed or illustrated impression. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprim6e sont film6s en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmds en commenpant par la premidre page qui comporte 'jne empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration :^t en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle ^ empreinte. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol — ^> (meaning "CON- TINUED "), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols -'^> signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN ". Maps, plates, charts, etc.. may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the uppor left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction diff^rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filmd d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 mmgggmm ^ mf SAOBATH LlBHAiiv, Vol. 10, No 295. Published Oct I, 1807. [Entered at the Post Office at Elgin, 111 , as Second Class Mail Matter] -iA C./ r /c J S/,000 PRIZE STORY. TUS: A COMRADE OF THE CROSS. Ly FLORENCE M. KLXGSLEY. Ipublisbcre' Hnnounccment: this ^ disciples, his circumstances, experiences and teach- book, desirinjr to recure t'y inps. The larj^jest liberty was given as to plot, it PUBLISHORS of them a Lite of Christ or su- perior merit and special character, offered a prize of one thousand dollars for the best manuscript submitted. The conditions stated were that the book was to be not merely a de- scriptive narrative, but a story in which the iences of the supposed characters brought into intimate relations with Christ and his being understood that the style should be simple and plain and such as would hold the interest of young people who were already nominal '..e- lievers in Christ. In response to the above call, three hundred and seventy ■ seven manuscripts were received, many of them of a high order of merit, "^he committee, after several weeks of arduous labor, finally decided in favor of the work herewith mentioned. It was an immediate success, ^ nearly one million copies having been sole. It is 4. one of the grandest and best books of the cen- tury, and has attracted greater attention thp' any other book published during the past ten yeu.s. ¥ ¥ ¥ Not in form of the ordinary historical or descriptive Life of Christ, but a story with a plot, the interest maintained throujjhout. Not in theolog- ical form, but in clear, pure, every-day English. From the youngest to the oldest, all will be delighted to read it, or hear it read. A BOOK EVERYBODY WILL READ. AS A GIFT BOOK it has no equal. The pam- phlet editit>n is so cheip that all can afford it. The cloth edition is suitable for tiie library. The Holiday edition is one of the most appro- priate gifts that could be found. The exceedingly low price at which this book is otfenxi is one of the marvels of modern publishing. If your newsdealer or bool,■'« V'"''"'"''' 6u ' idea CU>x.K,^h ^M^.^^i; f By ANNA MAY WILSON ' ^ "-jb vS'ifi «-r-'-'l 1;:feii -ir ' ' David C. Cook Publishing Company, Elgin, 111., and 36 Washington St., Chicago. ^'irr'r''- 'ih:i>:i- -iii^/llo i-sWi'Ji -^ PREFACE. . ' ( ; ■ 1 ! In " The Days of Mohammed," oue aim of the author has been to bring out the fact that it is possible to begin the heaven-life on earth. It is hoped that a few helpful thoughts as to the means of attaining this life may be exemplified in the career of the various charuoters depicted. An attempt has been made, by constant reference to the best works on Mohammed and Ai'abia, to render the historical basis strictly correct. Especial indebtedness is ac- knowledged to the writings of Irving. Burton, and the Rev. Geo. Bush; also to ihe travels of Burckhardt, .Joseph Pitts, Ludo- vico Bartema and Giovanni Finati, each of whom undertook a pilgrimage to the cities of Medina and Mecca; also to the excellent synopsis of the life and times of Mohammed as given by Prof. Max MtiUer in the intro- duction to Palmer's translation of the Koran. As the tiny pebble cast into the water sends its circling wavelets to the distant shore, so this little book is cast forth upon the world, in the hope that it may exert some influence in bringing hope and comfort to some wenry heart, and that, in helping some- one to attain a clearer conception of Divine love and companionship, it may, if in never so insignificant a degree, perhaps help on to that time when all shall " Trust the Hand of Light will lead the people, Till the tliuuders pass, the spectres vanish, And the Light is Victor, and the darkness Dawns into the Jubilee of the Agea" PRECEDING EVENTS -SUMMARY. Yusuf, a Guebre priest, a man of intensely religious temperament, and one of those whose duty it is to keep alive the sacred fire of the Persian temple, has long sought for a more heart-satisfying religion than that afforded to him by the doctrines of his coun- try. Though a man of kindliest disposition, yet so benighted he is that, led on by a deep study of the mysteries of Magian and Sabffian rites, he has been induced to offer, in human sacrifice, Imri. the little grand- daughter of Ama, an aged Persian woman, and daughter of an Arab. Uzza, who, though married to a Persian, lives at Oman with his wife, and knows nothing of the sacrifice until it is over. Copyright, 1897, by David C The death of the child, though beneath his own hand, immediately strikes horror to the heart of the priest. His whole soul revolts against the inhumanity of the act, which has not brought to him or Ama the blessing he had hoped for, and he rebels against the re- ligion which has, tliough ever so rarely, per- mitted ths exercise of such an atrocious rite. He becomes more than ever dissatisfied with the vagueness of his belief. He cannot find the rest which he desires; the Zenda vesta of Zoroaster can no longer satisfy his heart's longing; his country-people are sunk in idola- try, and, instead of worshiping the God of whom the priests have a vague conception, persist In bowing down before the symbols Cook Publishing Company. »,*««««..«*»«._».^,f. THE DAYS OF 5 themselves, discerning nnuKlit but the ob- jects—the sun, moon, stars. Are— light, all in all. Yusrf, Indeed, has a clearer idea of God; but he worships him from afar off, and looks upon him as a God of wrath and Judgment lather than as the Fatlier of love and mercy. In his new spiritual i gltatlon he conceives the Idea of a cloier rei.ition with the Lord of the universe; his whole soul calls out for a vivid realization of God, and he casts about for light in his trouble. From a passing stranger, traveling in Persia— a descendant of those Saba?an Per- sians who at an early age obtained a footing MOHAMMED. in Arabia, and whose Influence was, for a time, so strongly marked through the whole district known as tlie Nejd, and even down into Yemen, Arabia-Felix, — Yusuf has learned of a new and strange religion held by the people of the great peninsula. His whole being calls for relief from the doubts which harass him. He Is rich and he decides to proceed at once towards the west and to search the world, if necessary,— not, as did Sir (lalahad and the knightr. of King Arthur's Table, in quest of the Holy Grail, but in search of the scarcely less efful- gent radiance of the beams of Truth and Love. .' ' THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. CHAPTER I. YUSUP BEGINS HIS SEARCH FOR TRUTH. .; ' • " O when shaU all my wanderings end, And all my steps to Thee- ward tendl " EACE, oh peace! that thy light wings might now rest upon me! Truth, that thou mightest shine in upon my soul, making all light where now is darkness! Ye spirits that dwell in yon bright orbs far above me, ye that alone are privileged to bow before the Great Creator of the universe, ye that alone may address yourselves to the Great Omni- potent Spirit with impunity, intercede for me, I beseech you! Bow before that Great Sovereign of all wisdoau and light, whom we worship through these vague symbols of Are and brightness; plead with him before whom I dare lot come, in my behalf. Be- seech of him, if he will condescend to notice his most humble priest, that he may lead him Into light effulgent, into all truth, and that he may clear from his soul these vapors of doubt which now press upon him In black- est gloom and rack his soul with torment. If I sin in doubting thus, beseech him to for- give me and to lead me to a conception of him as he is. Ye that are his ministers, from your starry spheres guide me! Whether through darkness, thorns, or stony ways, guide me; I shall not falter if I may see the light at last! Oh. grant me peace!" .' ;; Thus prayed Yusuf, the Magian priest. He paused. No sound passed from his lips, but he still stood with upraised arms, gazing into the Intense depths (f the Persian sky, pur- ple, and flecked with golden stars, the " for- get-me-nots of the angels." His priestly vestments were dazzlingly white, and upon his shoulders were fixed two snowy wings tliat swept downward to the ground. His black beard descended far over his breast, and from the eyes above shone fortli the glow of a soul yearning to- wards the infinite unknown, whose all is God. Behind him, near the altar of the rounded tower,- round in the similitude of the orbs of light, the sun, moon, and stars, — danced the saci-ed fire, whose flames were said to h; e burned unceasingly for nearly one thousand years. The fiery wreaths leaped upwards to- ward the same purple sky. as if pointing with long, red fingers, In mockery of the ti #■ THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. priest's devotion* and the ruddy fflnre, falling upon blm as he stood so still there, enveloped him with a halo of light. It gleamed upon his head, upon his uplifted hands, upon the curves of the wings on his shoulders, silhouetting him against the dark- ness, and lighting his white habiliments un- til, all motionless as he was, he seemed like a marble statue dazzllngly radiant in the light of one crimson gleam from a sinking 'sun. And so he stood, heeding it not, till the moon rose, soft and full; the mountain-tops shone with a rim of sil/er, the valleys far below the temple looked deeper in the shade, and the ttre burned low. Rapt and more rapt grew the face of the priest. Surely the struggle of his soul was being answered, and in his nearness to Na- ture, he was getting a fairt, far-off gleam of the true nature of Nature's God. His glance fell to the changing landscape below; his arras were extended as if in benediction; and his lips moved in a low and passionate fare- well to his native land. Then he turned. The fire burned Ioav on the altar. " Sacred symbol, wliose beams have no power to warm my chilled heart, I bid you a long fareAvell! They will say that Yusuf is faitldess, a false priest. They will may- hap follow him to slay him. And they will bow again to yon image, and defile thine altars again with infants' blood, not discern- ing the true God. Yet he must be approach- able. I feel it! I know it! O Great Spirit, reveal Thyself unto Yusuf! Reveal Thyselt unto Persia! Great Spirit, guide me!" For the first time, Yusuf thus addressed a prayer direct to the Deity, and he did so in fear and trembling. A faint gleam shone feebly amid the ashes of the now blackening altar. It fiared up for an Instant, then fell, and the sacred fire of the Guebre temple was dead. "The embers die!" cried the priest. "Yea, mockery of the Divine, die In thine ashes!" He waited no longer, but strode with swift step down the mountain, and into the shade of the valley. Reaching, at last, a cave in the side of a great rock, he entered, and stripped himself of his priestly garments. Then, drawing from a recess the garb of an ordinary traveler, he dressed himself quickly, rolled his white robes Into a ball, and plunged farther into the cave. In the darkness the rusli of falling water warned him that an abyss was near. Dropping on his knees, he crei)t carefully forward until his hand rested on the jagged edge of a ledge of rock. Reside him the water fell into a yawning gulf. Darkness darker than black- est night was about him, and, in its cover, he cast the robes into the abyss below, then re- tiaced his way, and plunged once more into the moonlight, a Persian traveler wearing the customary loose trousers, a kuflyah on his head, and bearing a long staff in his hand. CHAPTER II. A BEDOUIN ENCAMPMENT. " The cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away." —Longfellow. ANY months after the departure of Yusuf from Persia a solitary rider on a swift dromedary reached tlie ex- treme northern boundary of El Hejaz, the province that stretches over a considerable portion of western Arabia. His face was brown like leather from exposure, and his clothes were worn and travel- stained, yet It scarcely required a second glance to recognize the glittering eyes of the Magian priest. It seemed as if the excitement of danger and the long days of toil and privation had at last bef;un to tell upon his iron frame. His eye, accustomed by the fear of robbers to dart its dark glances restlessly, was less keen llian usual; his head was drooped downward upon his breast, and his whole at- titude betokened bodily fatigue. His camel, too, went less swiftly, and picked its way, ■!»» i«iW ^^^^ THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED, with low. plaintive ninnns, over the roujjh and pn'dpitouH path which led Into a wild and weird Klen. It was eveninu. and the shadows fell In fantastic streaks and blotches acrrtss the arid valley, through whose barren soil huge, detached rocks of various-colored sandstone rose In eerie, Irregular masses, veritable castles of genii of the uncanny si)ot. Yusuf looked uneasily around, but neither sight nor sound of life was near, and he again allowed his faithful beast to slacken its pace and ci'op a few leaves of the coarse camel-thorn, tlie only sign of vegetation in the deserted place. A few trees, hoAvever. could be seen in the distance, and he urged his camel towards them in th<» hope of tinding some water, and some* dates for food. l{ea<'l»ing the spot, he found that a stagnant pool lay below, but there were no dates on the trees, and the water was brackish. A couple of red-legged partridges tluttered oft", cackling loudly as they went. He would fain have had them for food, but their presence seemed like com- liauy to the poor wanderer, and he did not attempt to secure them; so, throwing himself at full length on the ground, he flung his arms across his eyes to shield them from the white glare of the sky. Suddenly a step sounded near. Yusuf started to his feet and grasped his scimitar, but he was instantly beset by half a dozen wild Arabs, who dashed upon him. scream- ing their wild Arabian jargon, and Avaviug their short swords over their heads. Blows fell thick and fast. Yusuf had a dazed consciousness of seeing the swarthy, wrinkled visages and gleaming teeth of his opponents darting In confusion before him, of hacking desperately, and of re«"'^iving blows on the head; then a sudden gush of blood from a wound on his forehead blinded him, and he fell. All seemed over. But a shout sounded close at hand. Several Arabs, splendidly mounted on nimble Arabian horses, and waving their long, tufted spears, appeared on the scen'\ Thv Bt^louin robbers fled pre- eipitatelj, and Yusuf's flrst sensation was that of being gently raised, and of feeling water from the pool dashed upon his face. The priest had not been severely wounded, and soon rec;>vered enough to proceed with the party which had rendered him such tlnu'ly aid. An hour's ride brought them to the head of another and more fertile glen or wady, through which a mountain stream wended its way between two bands of tolerably good pasturage. A full moon In all Its brilliancy was just rising. Its cold, clear light floonded ids hand to help tiie traveler to dismount. and led him into the tent. " Friend." he said, " a lonj? journey and a close acQUniutance with death are, rre- thiiiks, a st)od prepa- ration for the enjoy- ment of Bedouin hos- pitality, which, we sincerely hope, shall not be laclcing in the tents of Musa. Yet, In truth, It seems to us that thou art a fool - hardy man to tempt the dangers of El Hejaz single- handed." " So it has proved," returned the priest; " but a Persian, no more than an Arab, will draw back at the first scent of danger. Yet I deplore these delays, which but hinder me on my way. I had hoped long ere this to be at the end of my journey." "We will hear all this later," returned the Bedouin with quiet dignity; "for the present, suffice It to keep quiet and let us wash this blood from your hair. Hither, As- wan! Bring warm water, knave, and let the traveler know that the Arab's heart is warm too. Now, friend-stranger, rest upon these cushions, and taii^ later. If It please you." With little enough reluctance, Yiisuf lay down upon the pile of rugs and cuwhinnB, and. Willie the attendants iiatlied his br w. looked somewhat curiously about him. He stood with upraised arms, gazing into the depths of the sky.— See page 2. By the light of a dim lamp and a torch or two, he could see that the tent was divided into two parts, as are all Bedouin tents, by a central curtain. This curtain was occa- sionally twitched aside far enough to reveal a pair of black eyes, and. from the softness i i: il n tff- JiOr-r i. jy JSSJ?Bl.i-»**a^. -*m^rmA THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. of tho voIfPR which Hounded fi*om tiiuo to timo iM'hInd tin' folds, ho Hurmlsi'd correctly that tbiH aparuneiU bolouged to the chlef'H women. Several men entered the tent, nil swarthy, lithe and sinewy, with llu' scowling faces and even, white teeth characteristic of the typical Arab. They gesticulated constantly as they talked; but Yusuf. though thoroughly familiar with the Arabic language, paid little attention to the ct)nversation, giving hlm«elf up to what seemed to him, after his adven- tures, perfect rest. Presently the chief's wife entered. She was unveiled, and her features were dis- tinctly Hebrew; for Lois, wife of the Bedouin Musa, had been born a Jewess. She was dressed In a flowing nthe of black con- fined by a crimson ginlle. Strings of coins and of blue opaque beads hung upon her breast and were wound about her ankles, and she wore a black head-dress also pro- fusely decorated with beads and bangles of silver. On a platter she carried some cakes, still smoking hot. These she placed on a low, circular table of copper. A wooden platter of boiled mutton was next added, along with a caldron filled with wheat boiled in camel's milk, and some cups of coffee. Yusuf was placed at the tab|ie, and Musa, after sipping a little coffee, handed the cup to him; the chief then picked out tlie most savory bits of mutton, and, according to Arabian etiquette, handed them to his guest. Several men gathered around to partake of the banquet. They crouched or reclined on the ground, about the low table; yet, savage- looking though they were, not one of the Bedouins ventured an Inquisitive question or bestowed a curious glance on the Persian. Among them, however, was a little, inquisitive - looking man, whose quick, blrd- ilke movements attracted Yusuf's attention early in the evening. His round black eyes darte 1 into every place and upon every one with an insatiable curiosity, and he talketl almost lncess Sitting down before the priest, and poising his head on one side, he observed: " You are bound for the south, stranger?" " Even so," said Yusuf, gravely. t . "Whither?" ^ .- •; ; f f v " I seek for the city of the great temple.** "Phut! The Caaba!" exclaimed the Jew, with contempt. " Right well I know it, and a fool's game they make of it, with their run- ning, and bowing, and kissing a bit of stone In the wall as though 'twere the dearest friend on earth!" "But they worship—" li ' .,'-';' t* i- " A statue of our father Abraham, and one of Ishmael, principally. A precious set of idolaters they all are, to be sure!" Yusuf's heart sank. Was It only for this that he had come his long and weary way. had braved the boat of day and the untold dangers of night? In searching for that pure essence, the spiritual, that he craved, had he left the idolatrous leaven at home only to come to another form of it in Mecca? " But then," he thought, " this foolish Jew knows not whereof he speaks: one with the empty brain and the loose tongue of this wanderer has not probed the depths of di- vine truth." " You cannot be going to Mecca as a pll- THE DAVS OF MOHAMMED. jjrlni?" linznnlod tho little man. Th«> MaKi:tiis and the SalaiMinH wui'Hhlp the Htars, do tlH'y not?" " Alan, yes!" Hald the priest. *' They have fallen away from the ancieut belief. They worshln even tlu' wtarH theMiHelves, and have Bet np Inia^eK to them, no lonjjor pereelvIiiK the (Jrei't InvlHJble, the Infinite, who can be approached only through the mediation of the spirits who Inhabit the staiTy orbs." " Methlnks you will And little better In Mecca. What are you Kolnj; there forV" asked the Jew abruptly. " I seek Truth," replied the priest quietly. "Truth!" rei)eated the Jew. "Aye, aye, the Persian traveler seeks truth; Abraham, the Jew, seeks m.vrrh. aloes, sweet perfumes of Yemen, sllke of India, and purple of Tyre. Aye. so it Is. and I think Abraham's com- modity Is the more obtainable and the more practical of the two. Yet they do say there are Jews who have sought for truth like- wise; and they tell of apostles who gave up their trade and fisheries to go on a like quest after a leader whom many Jews will not ac- cept." " Who were the apostles?" " Oh, Jews, of course." "Where may I find them?" " All dead, well-nigh six hundred years ago," returned the Jew, Indifferently. ; ■ Yusuf's hopes sank again. He longed for even one klndretl spirit to whom he could un- fold the thoughts that harassed him. " I do not know much about what they taught," continued the Jew. " Never read it; It does not help In my business. But I got a bit of manuscript the other day from Serglus, an old Nestorlan monk away up In the Syrian hills. I am taking It down to Mecca. I just peeped Into It. but did not read It; because it is the people who live now, who have gold and sliver for Abraham, that Interest him, not those who died centuries ago; and the bit of writing is about such. However, you seem to be interested that way, so I will give It to you to read." So saying, the Jew unpacked a heavy bun- dle, and, after searching for some time, up- setting tawdry jewelry, kerchiefs, and boxes of perfume, ho at last succeeded In finding the parchmont. lie han(le« to you, stranger. Abraham the Jew knows little and cares less for re- ligion, bi»t lie would be sorry tc see you bowing with yon heathen Arab herd at Mecca." " Dog! Son of a dog!" ■ It was MuHu. Able to restrain his passion no longer, he had sprung to his feet and stood, with flashing eyes and drawn scimitar, in resentment of the slur ou his countrymen. With a howl of fear, the little Jew sprang through the door and disappeared In the darkness. Musa laughed contemptuously. " Ha, lack-brained cur!" he said, " I would not have hurt him, having bniken broad with hlri In mine own tent! Yet. friend Per- sian, one cannot hear one's own people, and one's own temple, the temple of his fathers, desecrated by the tongue of a lack -brained Jew trinket-vender." " You know. then, of this Caaba— of the God they worship there?" asked the priest. Musa shook his head, and made a gesture of denial. " Musa knows little of such things," he re- plied. " Yet the Caaba is a name sacred in Arabian tradition, and as such. It suits me III to hear It « the tongue of a craven- hearted Jew. In HJth. the coward knave has left his trumpc bundle all open as It Is. I warrant me he \\.il come back for It In good time." A dark-haired lad In a striped silk garment here passed through the tent " Hither, Kedar!" called the Sheikh. " Re- cite for our visitor the story of Moses." The lad at once began the story, reciting it In a sort of chant, and accompanying his words with many a gesture. The company listened breathlessly, now giving vent to deep groans as the persecution of the chil- dren of Israel was described, now bowing their heads in reverence at the revelation of the burning bush, now waving their arms In excitement and starting forward with flash- m THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. It Ing eyes as the lad pictured the passage of the Red Sea. .hpi Yusuf had heard some vague accovnt of the story before, but, with the passionate na- ture of the Oriental, he was strangely moved as he listened to the recital of how that great God whom he longed to feci and linow had led the children of Israel through all their wanderings and sufferings to the promised land. He felt that he too was indeed a wan- derer, seeliing the promised land. He was but an infant in the true things of the Spirit. Like many another who 'ongs vainly for a revelation of the worlcing of the Holy Spirit, his soul seemed to reach out hopelessly. But who can tell how tenderly the same All-wise Creator tieasures up every out- reaching of the struggling soul! Not one throb of the loving and longing heart is lost; —and Yusuf was yet, after trial, to rejoice in the serene fullness of such light as may fall upon this terrestrial side of death's di- viding line. ., w« I „,r* V,,. Poor Yusuf, with all his Persian learning and wisdom, had, through all his life, linown only a religion tinctured with idolatry. Al- most alone he had broken from that idolatry, and realized the unity of God and his separa- tion from all connected with such worship; but he was yet to understand the connection of God with man, and to taste the fullness of God's love through Christ. He had not realized that the finger of God is upon the life of 3very man who is willing to yield himself to Divine direction, and that there, is thus an inseparable link between the Creator and the creature. He was not able to say. as said Carlyle in these later days, " A divine decree or eternal regulation of the universe there verily is, in regard to every conceiv- able procedure and affair of man; faithfully following this, said procedure or affair wil! prosper. . . Not following this, . . destruc- tion and wreck are certain for every affaii'," And what could be better? Divine love, not divine wraui, over all! Yusuf had an Idea of divine wrath, but he failed to see— be- cause the presentation of the never-failing Fatherhood of God had not yet come— the in- finite love that makes Jesus all in all to us. heaven wherever he Is, and hell wherever he Is not. :^ V.;, «i. Since leaving Persia, this was the first definite opix)rtunlty he had had of listening to Bible truth. " Kedar knows more of this than his father," explained Musa. "'Tls his mother who teaches him. She was a Jewess, of the people of Jesus of Nazareth, but I fear this roving life has caused my poor I^ois to for- get much of the teaching of her people." " You speak of Jesus of Nazareth I have heard something of him. Tell me more." Musa shook his head slowly. " I know nothing," he said. " But I chall call Lois. The men have all guue from the tent, and mayhap she can tell what you want." So saying, he entered the women's apart- n»ent, and sent his wife to Yusuf. « '-^^»^ " You wi«h to know of Jesvs of Nazareth?" she said. " Alas, I am but a poor teacher. I am unworthy even to speak his name. I marrleo? when but a child, and since then I have wandered far from him, for there have been few to teach me. Yet I know that he ^vas in very truth tho Son of God. He was all-good. He healed the sick on this earth, and forgave sin. Then, woe, woe to me!— he was cruc'fled, — crucified by my people! And he went up to heaven; his disciples saw him go up in the white clouds of a bright day." " Wherft dwells he now? Is he one of the spirits of the stars?" .^^^ ^^,,'^,^ " I know not. He is In heaven." " And does he stoop to take notice of us, the children of earth?" t^^K ^ » -^ ( '* Alas, I know not! There was once a time when Jesus was more than a name to me. V/hen I knelt, a child, beside my mother on the grassy hills of Hebron, it seemed that Jesus was, in some vague way, a reality to me; but long years of forgetfulness have passed since then. Stranger, I wish you well. Your words have brought back to me the desire to know more of him. If you learn aught of him, and it ever lies in your way to do so, come and tell us,— my Musa and me,— that we too may learn of him." Rising to her feet, the woman saluted the Persian and left him. Musa entered to con- THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. duct him to the rugs set apart for his couch, and soon all was silent about the encamp- nient. afv xhh^i But ere he fell asleep, Yusuf went out into the moonlight. The night was fllied with the peculiar lightness of an Oriental night. The moon blazed down lilje a globe of molten silver, and a few large stars glowed with scarcely secondary brilliance. In the silvery brightness he could easily read the manuscript given him by the Jew. It was the story of the man with the withered hand, whose infirmity was healed by Jesus In the synagogue. And there, in the starlight, the priest boWed his head, and a throng of pent- up emotions throbbed in his breast. " Spirits of the stars, show me God. If this Jesus be indeed the Son of God, show me him. Give me faith, such faith as had he of the withered hand, that I too may stretch forth my hand and be made whole; that I may loolc, and in looking, see." This was his prayer. Ah, yet, the " spirits of the stars" were as a bridge to the gulf which, he fancied, lay between him and In- finite Mercy. tii:,s |v^;. (?;,.>■. ,^,;/,nr.:f ^: -in ,.;:■; >1)c;v f^i^l CHAPTER III. YUSUF MEETS AMZI, THE MECCAN. :;: , " Mecca's pilgrims, confident of Fate, And resolute ic heart " —Lonfffelloio. HE next morning, Yusuf, against the remonstrances of Musa and his wife, pre- pared to proceed on his way. Liiie the Ancient Mariner, he felt forced to go on, " to pass lilte night from land to laud," until he obtained that which he sought. When he was almost ready to iepart, a horseman came galloping down the valley, with the news that a car- avan, en route for Mecca, was almost in sight, and would make a brief halt near the stream by which Musa's tents were pitched. Yusuf at once determined to avail himself of the timely protection on his journey. Presently the caravan appeared, a long, irregular line— camels bearing " shugdufs," or covered litters; swift dromedaries, mounted by tawny Arabs whose long Indian shawls were twisted about their heads and fell in fringed ends upon their backs; fiery Arabian horses, ridden by Arabs swaying long spears or lances in their hands; heavily- laden pack-mules, whose leaders walked be- side them, urging them on with sticks, and giving vent to shrill cries as they went; and lastly a line of pilgrims, some trudgiug along wearily, some riding miserable beasts, whose ribs shone through their roughened hides, while others rode, in the proud security of ease and affluence, in comfortable litters, or upon animals whose sleek and well-fed ap- pearance comported with the self-satisfied air of their riders. A halt was called, and immediately all was ruufusion. Tents were hurriedly thrown up; the pack-mules were unburdened for a mo- ment; the horses, scenting the water, began to neigh and sniflf the air; infants, who had been crammed into saddle-bags with their heads out, were hauled from their close quar- ters; the horsemen of Musa, still balancing their tutted spears, dashed in and out; while his herdsmen, anxious to keep the flocks from mixing with the caravan, shrieked and gesticulated, hurrying the flocks of sheep off in noisy confusion, and urging the herds of dromedaries on with their short, hooke^l sticks. It was indeed a babel, in which Yusuf had no part; and he once more seized the opportunity of looking at the precious parchment. To his astonishment, he per- ceived that it was addressed to " Moham- med, >son of A.)dallah, son of Abdal Motalleb, Mecca," with the subscription, " From Ser- gius the Monk, Bosra." Here then, Yusuf had, in perfect inno- cence, been entrapped into reading a com- munication addressed to some one else, and he smiled sarcastically as he thought of the inqulsitiveness of the little Jew who had taken the liberty of " just peeping in." mm 10 TEE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. It remalnpfl, now, for Yusuf to find the Jew and to put him again in possession of his charge. He searched for him through the motley crowd, but in vain; then, recol- lecting that the peddler's bundle had been left behind, he sought Musa, to see if he had heard anything of the little busybody. Musa laughed heartily. " Remember you not that I said his trumpery would be gone in the morning? I was no false proi)het. The man is lilve a weasel. When all sleep he finds his way in and helps himself to what he will: when all walie, no Jew Is to be seen; trumpery and all have gone, no one Ivuows whither." So the priest found himself responsible for the delivery of the manuscript to this Mohammed, of whom he had never hitherto heard; and, knowing the contents, he was none the less ready to carry out the trust, hoping to find in Mohammed some one who could tell him more of the same won- drous story. He therefore placed the parch- ment vei-y carefully within the folds of his garment, bade farewell to Musa and his household, and prepared to leave with the caravan, which had halted but a short time on account of the remarljable coolness of the day. "Peace be with you!" said the Sheikh: " and if you ever need a friend, may it be Musa's lot to stand in good stead to you. I bid you good speed on your journey. We have no fears for your safety now; besides the safety of numbers, the holy month of Ramadhan* begins to-day. and even the wildest of the Bedouin robbers usually re- frain from taking life in the holy months. Again, Peace be with you! And remember that the Bedouin can be a friend." Yusuf embraced the chief tain with grati- tude, and took his place in the train, wlilch was already moving slowly down the v dy. As it often happens that in the lost numerous concourse of people one feel: inost lonely, so it was now with Yusuf. There seemed none with whom he cared to speak. ♦ The month of Ramadhnn was held as holy prior to Mohammed's time; Ita sanctity was but conllrmed by him. Most of the people were self-satisfied traders busied with the care ot tlie merchan- dise which they were taking down to dis- pose of at the great fair carried on during the Ramadhan. A few were Arabs of the Hejaz. short and well-knit, wearing looses garments of blue, drawn back at the arms enough to show the muscles standing out like whip-cords. Some were smoking short chibouques, with stems of wood and bowls of soft steatite colored a yellowish red. As they rode they used no stirrups, but crossed their legs before and beneath the pommel of the saddle; while, as the sun shone more hotly, they bent their heads and drew their kuflyahs far over their brows. Many poor and somewhat fanatical pilgrims were inter- spersed among the crowd, and here and there a dervish, w'th his large, bag-sleeved robe of brown wool— the Zaabut, worn alike by dervish and peasant— held his way undis- turbed. Yusuf soon ceased to pay any attention to his surroundings, and sat, buried in his own thoughts, until a voice, pleasant and like the ripple of a brook, aroused him. " What thoughts better Than the thoughts of a Persian? None. Friend, think you not so?" - , Tlie words were spoken in the Persian dialect, and the priest lool^ed up In surprise, to see a ruddy-faced man smiling down upon him from the back of a tall, white Syrian camel. He wore the jubboh, or cloak, the badge of the learned in the Orient; his beard was turning slightly gray, and his eyes were keen and twinkling. " One question mayhap demands another," returned Yusuf. " How knew you that I am a Persian? I no longer wear Persian garb." "What! Ask an Arab such a question as that!" said the other, smiling. " Know you not, Persian, that we of the desert lands are accustomed to trace by a mark in the sand, the breaking of a camel-thorn, things as diflScult? The stamp of one's country cannot be thrown off with one's clothes. Nay, more; you liave been noted as one learned among the Persians." Yusuf bent his head in assent. "Truly, THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED, 11 stronger, your penetrrtion Is incomprehen- sible," he said, with a touch of sarcasm. "No, no!" returned the other, good- humoredly; " but, n^arlilng /ou out for what you are, I thought yorr company might, perdiance, lessen the dreariness of the way. I am Amzi, the Meccan. Some call me Amzi the rich Meccnn; others, Amzi the learned; others, Amzi the benevolent. For myself. I pretend nothing, aspire to nothing but to Icnow all that may be known, to live a life of ease, at peace with all men, and to help the needy or unfortunate where I may. More than one stranger has not been sorry ■ for meeting Amzi the benevolent, In Mecca. Have you friends there?" i " None," said Yusuf. " Yet there is a tra- dition among our people that the Guebres at one time had temples even in the land of Arabia. Have you heard aught of it?" . " It Is said tliat at one time flre-temples were scattered tlu'oughout this land, each being dedicated to the worship of a planet; that at Medina* itself was one dedicated to the worship of the moon and containing an image of It. It Is also claimed that the flre- worshipers held Mecca, and there worshiped Saturn and the moon, from whence comes their name of tlie place — Mahgah, or moon's place. The Guebres also hold here that the Blacli Stone is an emblem of Saturn, left In the Caaba by the Persian Maliabad and his successors long ago. But, friend, Persian influence has long since ceased in El Hejaz. Metliinlis you will find but few traces of your country-people's glory there." " It matters not," returned the priest. " The glory of the flre-worshipers has, so far as Yusuf is concerned, passed away. Know you not that before his eyes the sacred fire,** kept alive for well-nigh one thousand years, went out in the supreme temple ere he left it? May the great Omniscient Spirit grant that Persia's idolatries will die out In its ashes!" * Medina at this time bore the name of Yathrlb. but In this volume we shall give It the later and better- known name of "Medina," derived from the earlier "Mahdinah." •• The Moslems noiv assert that the sacred Are went out of itself at the birth of Mohammed. "And think you that there is no Idolatry in Mecca? Friend, believe me, not a house in Arabian Mecca which does not contain its idol! Not a man of influence wlio will start on an expedition without beseeching his family gods for blessing!" " And do they not recognize a God over all?" " They acknowledge Allah as the highest, the universal power,— yet he is virtually but a nominal deity, for they deem that none can enter into special I'eiationship with him save through the mediation of the household gods. In his name the holiest oaths are nworn, nevertheless in true worship he has the last place. Indeed, It must be confessed that neither fear of Allah nor reverence of the gods has much influence over the mass of our people." *' Wliat, then, is the meaning of this great pilgrimage, whose fame reached me even in Persia? Does not religious enthusiasm lead tliose poor wretches, hobbling along behind, to take such a journey?" Amzi nodded his head slowly. " Religious incentives may move the few," he said. " But, friend, can you not see that barter is the leading object of the greater number— of those well-to-do pilgrims wlio are super- intending the carriage of their baggage so complacently there? The holy months, par- ticularly the Ramadhan, afford a peiiod of comparative safety, a long truce that affords a convenient season for traffic. Alas, poor stranger! you will be sad to find that our city, in the time of the holy fast, becomes a place of buying and selling, of vice and rob- bery—a place where gain is all and God is almost unknown." " But you. Amzi : what do you believe of such tilings?" " In truth, I know not what to think. Believe in idols I cannot; worship in the Caaba I will not; so that my religion is but a belief in Allah, whom I fear to approach, and whose help and influence I know not how to obtain, a confidence in my own mor- ality, and a consciousness of doing good works." "Strange, strange!" said the priest, "that ■r M 12 THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. -If we have arrived at somewhat the same place by different ways! Amzi, let us be brothers In the quest! Let us rest neither night nor day until we have found the way to the Supreme God! Amzi, I want to feel him, to linow him, as I am persuaded he may be known; yet, like you, I fear to ap- proach him. Have you heard of Jesus?" " A few among a band of coward Jews who live in the Jewish quarter of Mecca, believe in One whom they call Jesus. The majority of them do not accept him as divine; and among those who do, he seems to be little more than a name of some one who lived and died as did Abraham and Ishmael. His tenehinjr, if, indeed, he taught aught, seems to have little effect upon their lives. They live no better than others. and. Indeed, thej'^ are slurred upon by all true Mcccans as cowardly dogs, perjurers and usurers." Yusuf sighed deeply. It seemed as though he were following a flitting ignis-fatuus, that eluded him just as he came in sight of it. The rest of the day was passed in com- parative silence. The evening halt was called, and it was decided to spend the nlglit in a grassy basin, traversed by the rocky bed of a mountain stream, a " fiumara." down which a feeble brooklet from recent mountain rains trickled. Owing to the security of the month Ramadhan, it was deemed that a night halt would be safe, and the whole caravan encamped on the spot. As the shades of the rapidly-falling East- ern twilight drew on, Yusuf sat idly near the door of a tent, looking out listlessly, and listening to the chatter of the people about him. Not far off a Jewish boy. a mere child, of one of the northern tribes, as shown by his fair hair and blue eyes, sang plaintively a song of the singing of birds and the hum- ming of bees, of the flowers of the North, of rippling streams, of the miraged desert, of the waving of the tamarisk an*^ the scent of roses. •rm'yiWii'^'-'i' Wi V Yusuf observed the childlike form and the effeminate paleness of the cherub face, and a feeling of protective pity throbbed In his bosom as he noted the slender smallness of tlie iiand that glided over the one-stringed guitar, showing by its movements, even in the fading evening light, the blue veins that coursed beneath the transparent skin. He called the lad to his side, and bade him sing, to him. Not till then did he notice the vacancy of the look which b.'spoke a slightly wandering mind. Yusuf's great heart filled with sympathy. "Poor lad!" he said, "singing all alone! Where are your friends?" "Dumah's friends?" said the child, won- deringly. " Poor Dumah has no friends now! He goes here and there, and people are kind to him— because Dumah sings, you know, and only angels slug. He tells them of flocks beside the pool, of lilies of Siloam. of birds in tlie air and angels in the heavens -then everyone is kind. Ah! the world is fair!" he continued, with a happy smile. "The breeze blows ' ot here, sometimes, but so cool over the sea; and the lilies blow in the vales of Galilee, and the waves ripple bright over the sea where he once walked." " Who, child?" "Jesus— don't you know?" with a wonder- ing look. " He sat often by the Lake of Galilee where I have sat, and tho night winds lifted his hair as tliey do mine, and he smiled and healed poor suffering and sin- ful people. Ah, he did indeed! Poor Dumah is talking sense now. good stranger; some- times he does not— the thoughts come and go before he can catch them, and then people say, ' Poor little Dumah is demented.' But if Jesus were here now. Dumah would be hv^aled. I dreamed one night I saw him. and lie smiled, and looked upon me so sweetly and said, ' Dumah loves me! Dumah loves me!' and then I saw him no more. Friend. I know you love him, too. What is your name?" -' ' ^ - " Yusuf." "Then, Yusuf. you will be my friend?" " I will be your friend, poor Dumah!" '^ ^ * Oh, no, Dumah Is not poor! He is happy. But his thoughts are going now. Ah, they throng! The visions come! The birds and the mists and the flowers are twining in a THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 13 wreath, a wreath that stretches up to the clouds! Do you not see It?" and he started off again on his wild, plaintive song. Yusuf 8 eyes filled with tears, and he drew the lad to his bosom, and looked out upon the grassy plot before the door, where a huge fire was now shedding a flickering and fantas- tic glare upon the wrinkled visages of the Arabs, and lighting up the scene with a weird effect only to be seen In the Orient. Caldrons were boil- ing, and a savor; odor penetrated the air. Men were talking in groups, and a little der- vish was spinning around nimbly in a sort of dance. Yusuf looked at him for a moment. There seemed to be something familiar about his figure and movements, but in the darkness he could not be distinctly seen, and Yusuf soon forgot to pay any attention to him. He drew the boy, who had now fallen asleep, close to him. What would he, Yu/?uf, not give to learn fully of that source from whence the few meagre crumbs picked up by this poor child were yet precious enough to give him, all wandering as he was at times, the assurance of a sym- pathetic God, and render him happy in the realization of his presence! What must be the Joy of a full revelation of these blessed truths, if, indeed, trutlis they were! The longing for such companionship filled Yusuf, as he lay there, with an intense de- sire. He could scarcely define, in truth he scarcely understood, exactly wlmt he wanted. There was a lack in his life which no human A head was thrus'i forward. It was the little dervish.— See page 1 5. agency had, as yet, been able to satisfy. His heart was " reacliing out its arms " to know God— that was all; and he called it searching for Truth. ^^ ., . x ;,,. Far into the night the Persian pondered. Ids mind beating against the darkness of what was to him the great mystery; and he H h\ 14 THE DATS OF MOHAMMED. u ! &- prayed for light. He thought of the Father, yet again he prayed to the spirits of the planets which were shining so brightly above him. But did not an echo of that prayer ascend to the throne of grace? Was not the eye of Him who notes even the spar- rows when they fall, upon his poor, strug- gling child? V ; ' And the end was not yet. ,;/ ^ CHArTER IV. WHEREIN YUSUP ENCOUNTERS A SAND- STORM IN THE DESERT, AND HAS SOME- WHAT OF AN EXPERIENCE WITH THE LIT- TLE DERVISH. • < ? " A column lilgh ind vast, A form of fear and dread." —Lons^fellow. •ITH but few events worthy of notice the journey to Mecca was con- cluded. After a short halt at Medina, the cara- van set out by one of the three roads which then led from Medina ;^ to Mecca.* The way led through a country whose aspect had every indication of volcanic agency in the remote ages of the earth's his- tory. Bleak plains— through whose barren soil outcrops of blackened scoriae, or sharp edges of black and brittle hornblende, ap- peared at every turn— were interspersed with wadies, bounded by ridges of basalt and green-stone, rising from one hundred to two hundred feet high, and covered with a scanty vegetation of thorny acacias and dumps of camel-grass. Here and there a rolling hill was cut by a deep gorge, showing where, after rain, a mighty torrent must foam its way; and, more rarely still, a stag- nant pool of saltish or brackish water was marked out by a cluster of daum palms. • A fourth, the " Darb-el Sharki." or Eastern Road, has since been built by order of the wife of the famoua Huroun ul Kaschid. On all sides jackals howled dismally dur- ing the night; and above, during the day, an occasional vulture wheeled, fresh from the carcass of some poor mule dead by the way- side. Such was tlie appearance of the land through which the caravan wound its way, beneath a sky peculiar to Arabia— purple at nlgl)t, white and terrible in its heat at noon, yet ever strange, weird and impressive. But one incident worth recounting oc- curred on the way. Yusuf, Amzl, and the boy Dumah had been traveling side by side for some time. The way, at that particular snot, led over a plain which afforded com- paratively easy traveling, and thus gave a better opportunity for conversation. The talk had turned upon the Guebre worship, and the priest was amazed at the knowledge shown by Amzi of a religion so little known in Arabia. " I can tell you more than that." said Amzi in a low tone. " I can tell you that you are not only Yusuf the Persian gentleman of leisure, but Yusuf the Magian priest, accus- tomed to feed the sacred fire in the Temple of Jupiter. Is it not so? Did not Yusuf 's hand even take the blood of Imri the infant daughter of Uzza in sacrifice? Can Yusuf the Persian traveler deny that?" Yusuf 's head sank; his face crimsoned with pain, and the veins swelled like cords on his brow. '>s -' . , ; " Alas, Amzi, it is but too true!" he said. " Yet, upon the most sacred oath that a Per- sian can swear, I did it thinking that the blessing of the gods would thus be invoked. The rite is one not unknown among the Sabjieans of to-day. and common even among the Magians of the past. Amzi, it was in my days of heathendom that I did it, think- ing it a duty to Heaven. It was Yusuf the priest who did it, not Yusuf the man; yet Yusuf the man bears the torture of it in his bosom, and seeks forgiveness for the black- est spot in his life! How knew you this, Amzi ?— If the question be an honorable one." " Amzl knows much," returned the Mec- can. " He knows, too, that Yusuf can never escape the brand of the priesthood. See!" sii TEE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 15 He leaned forward, and drew back the loose garment from the Persian's breast. A red burn, or scar, in the form of a torch, ap- peared in the flesh. As Yusuf liastened to cover it, a head was thrust forward, and two bead-lilie eyes peered from a shrouded face. It was the little dervish. The priest was ar.noyed at the intrusion. He determined to taice note of the meddler, but the occurrence of an event common in the desert drove all thought of the dervisli from his mind. The cry "A simoom! A simoom!" arose througliout the caravan. There, far towards the horizon, was a dense mass of dull, copper-colored cloud, ris- ing and surging lilie the waves of a mad ocean. It spread rapidly upwards toward the zenith, and a dull roar sounded from afar off, broken by a peculiar shrieking whis- tle. And now dense columns could be seen, bent baclvward in trailing wreaths of copper at the top, changing and swaying before the hurricane, yet ever holding the form of va- pory, yellow pillars,— huge shafts extending from earth to heaven, and rapidly advancing with awful menace upon the terrifi^id irulti- tude. The Arabs screamed, helpless before the manifestation of what they believed was a supernatural force, for they look upon these columns as the evil genii of the plains. Men and camels fell to the ground. Horses neighei^ in fear, and galloped madly to and fro. But the hot breath of the " poison- wind " was upon them in a moment, shriek- ing like a fiend among the crisping acacias. The sand-storm then fell in all its fury, half smothering the poor wretches, who strove to cover their heads with thc'r garments to keep out the burning, blistering, pitiless dust. ski M^'^':^.,.^ 'x'" Fortunately all was over in a moment, and the tempest Avent swirling on its way north- ward, leaving a clear sky and a dust-buried country in its wake. i:_^i_ _i^^- :_ ixu^. In the confusion the dervish had escaped to the other end of the caravan, and was for- gotten. At the end of the tenth day after leaving Medina the caravan reached the head of the long, narrow defile in whl<>■ i-'i Amzi was talking to someone in the crowd, and Yusuf passed slowly out and bent his way down a silent and deserted street. No one was in sight except a very young girl, almost a child, who was gliding quickly on in the shadows. Once or twice she seemed to stagger, then she • fell. ♦Burton says the black stone is volcanic, but is thought by some to be a meteorite or aerolite. Burck- hardt thought it comrosed of lava. Of its appearance AliBeysaya: "It is a block of volcanic basalt, whose circumference Is sprinkled with little crystals, with rhombs of tile-red feldspath on a dark background like velvet or charcoal. Yusuf hurried to her, and turned her face to tlie starlight. Even In tliat dim light he could see that It was contorted with pain. Yusuf heard the murmur of voices in a low building close at hand, and. witliout waiting to knock, he lifted the girl in his arms, opened the door, and passed in. CHAPTER V. NATHAN THE JEW. " I shall be content, what- ever happens, for what God chooses must be bet- ter than what I can ch oose. "— Epictetut. HE same evening on which Yusuf visited the temple, a woman and her two children sat in a dingy little room with an earth- en floor, in one of the most dilapidated streets of Mecca. The woman's face bore traces of want and suffering, yet there was a calm dig- nity and hopefulness in her countenance, and her voice was not despairing. She sat upon a bundle of rushes placed on the floor. No lamp lighted the apartment, but through an opening In the wall the soft starlight shone upon the bands of hair that fell in little braids over her forehead. Her two beautiful children were beside her, the girl with her arm about her mother, and the boy's head on her lap. " Win we have only hard cake for break- fast, mother, and to-morrow my birthday, too?" he was saying. " That is all, my little Manasseh, unless the good Father sees fit to send us some way of earning more. You know even the hairs of our heads are numbered, so he takes notice of the poorest and weakest of his children, and has promised us that there will be no lack to them that fear him." - " But, mother, we have had lack many, many times," said the boy thoughtfully. 18 THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. i.'l ii< The mother Biiiiled. "But things have usually come right In the end." she Ha id. " and you know ' Our llglit affliction, which Is but for a nionient, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.* We cannot understand all these things now, but It will be plain some day. * We will trust, and not be afraid,' because our trust Is in the Lord; and we know that ' he will perfv'ct that which concerneth us,' If we trust him." "And will he send father home soon?" asked the boy. " We have been praying for him to come, so, so long! Do you think God hears us, mother? Why doesn't he send father home?" The woman's head drooped, and a tear rolled down her cheek, but her voice was calm and firm. " Manasseh, child," she said, " your father may never return; but, though a .Tew, he was a Christian; and, living or dead, I know he is safe in the keeping of our blessed Lord. Yes, Manasseh, God hears the slightest whisper breathed from the heart of those who call upon him in truth. He says, Jesus says. ' I know my sheep, and am known of mine.' Little son, I like to think that our blessed Savior, who ' laid down his life for the sheep,' is here — in this very room, close to us. Sometimes I close my eyes and think I see him. looking upon us in mercy and love from his tender eyes, and he almost seems so near that I may touch him. No, he will never forsake us. Little ones, my constant prayer for you is thi-t yon may learn to realize the depths of his love, ard to render him your hearts in return; that you may feel ever closer to him than to any earthly parent, and prove yourselves loving, faithful children of whom he may not be ashamed." The woman's voice trembled with emotion as she concluded, and a glow of happiness illuminated her thin features. J; " Well, mother, I was ashamed to-day," said little Manasseh. " I got angry and struck a boy." " Manasseh! My child!" " You cannot understand, mother; you are so good that you never get angry or wicked. But the anger keei)s rising up In me till It seems as If my heart would burst; the blood rushes to my face, my eyes flash- then— I strike, and think of nothli'g." She stroked his hair gently. " Manasseh, m> boy's temper Is one enemy which he has to conquer. But he must not try to conquer It In his own strength. We have an Al- mighty Helper who has given us to know that he will not suffer us to be tempted be- yond that we are able, and has bidden us cast all our care upon him. He will be only too willing to guide us and uphold us by his power, if we will but let him keep us and lead us far from all temptation." " Then what would you do, mother, if you were in my place when the anger comes up?" She stooped and kissed him. " I would say, 'Jesus, help me,' and leave it all to him." Just then a step sounded at the door. Some one entered, and a cry of " Father! Oh. father!" burst from the children. The mother sprang, trembling, to her feet. It was the long-lost husband and father! Then the lamp was lighted, and the trav- eler told his loved ones the story of his long absence; how he had embarked at Jeddah on a foist bound for the head of the Red Sea; how he had been shipwrecked; had be- come ill of a fever as the result of exposure; and how he had at last made his painful way home by traveling overland. As they thus sat, talking in ecstasy of Joy at their reunion, the door opened and Yusuf entered with the girl in his arms. Water was sprinkled upon her face and she soon recovered. She placed her hand on her brow in a dazed way, then sprang up, and, just pausing for an instant In which her wondrous beauty might be noted, dashed off into the night. " It is Zelnab, the beautiful child of Has-" san," said the Jewess. " She will be well again now. The paroxysms have come before." " Sit you down, friend," said her husband to Yusuf. " We were just about to break THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 19 bivnd. 'TIh n soanty nipnl," he addod. with a sniilo. " But we have been enjoined to ' be not forgetful to entertain Htmngers,' be- cause many have thus entertained auKt^lM unawares. We shall be glad of the com- pany," There was a manly uprightness In the look and tone of Nathan the Jew which canght Yusuf's fancy at once, and he sat down without hesitation at the humble l)oard. And there, in tliat little, dingy room, he saw the first gleam of tliat radiant light which was to transform the whole of his after life. He heard of the trials and dis- appointments, of tl»e heroic fortitude born of that trust In and union with (iod which he had so craved. He received his first glimpse of a God, human as we are human, who un- derstands every longing. e\ery doubt, every agony that can bleed tlie heart of a poor child of earth. He scarcely dured yet to believe that this God was one really with him at all times and in all places, eeing, hearing, knowing, sympathizing. He scarcely dared to realize the possibility of a companionship with him, or the fact that the mediation of the planet- spirits was but a myth. Yet he did feel, in a vague way, that the light was breaking, and a tumultuous, undefined, hopeful ecstasy took possession of his being. Yusuf's heart was ready for the reception of the truth. He was unprejudiced. He had cast aside all dependence upon the tenets of his former be- lief. He had become as a little child anx- ious for rest upon its father's bosom. He sought only God, and to him the light came quickly. There was an infinity of blessed truth to learn yet, but, as he went out into the night, he knew that a something had come into his life, transforming and ennobling it. The divinity within him throbbed heart to heart with the Divinity that is above all, in all, throughout all good. Though vaguely, he felt God; he knew that now, at last, he had entered upon the right road. Then he thought of Amzi. He must try to tell him all this. Surely Amzi the learned, the benevolent, would rejoice too in hearing the story of Jesus' life on earth, of his com- ing as an expression of tiie love of (iod lo man, tliat man might know Ciod. TlH'ough the dark streets he hastened, thinking, wondering, rejoicing. He sought the bedside of Amzi on tlie flat roof. *' Amzi, awake!" lie cried. "What now, night-hawk?" said the Mec- can. in his good-natured, half-railing tone. " Why pounce upon a man thus In the midst of Ids slumbers?" " Amzi, I have heard glorious news of him— that Jesus of whom we have talked!" "Well?" " He seems indeed to be the God for wliom I have longed. They have been telling me of his life, yet I realize little save that he came to earth that men might know him; that he died to show men the depth of his love; and tliat he is with us at every time, in every place — even here, now, on this roof! Only think of it, Amzi! He is close beside us, sett- ing us, hearing us, knowing our very hearts! There is no need more of appealing to the spirits of the stars. Ah, they were ever far, far off!" "And where learned you all this, friend priest?" There was an indifferent raillery in the tone which chilled Yusuf to the heart. " From Nathan, a Christian^ Jew, and his v;ife— people who live close to God If any one does." " In the Jewish quarter?" , " Even so." , , '' > Amzi laughed. " Truly, friend, you have chosen a fair spot for your revelation— a quarter of filth and vice. A case of good com- ing out of evil, truly!" " Will you not grant that there are some good even in the Jewish quarter?" " Some, perhaps; yet there are some good among all peoples." "Amzi, can you not believe?" " No, no, friend Yusuf; I am glad for your happiness— believe what you will. But it Is foreign to Amzi's nature to accept on hear- say that which he has not inquired Into— probed to the bottom even. He cannot ac- cept the testimony of any passing stran^'or, however plausible it may seem. Rejoice if \ ! ! 20 THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 1 V I' H you will, YuHUf, in tlu> Hpiliit; uf u nl)(l)t- tuno, but leave Auizi to seek fur the deep waters Htlll." Anizi was now tnlklnf? quickly nnd Ini- preKHlvt'ly. Yusuf was uQiazod. The llj?ht wuh Im'kIu- nhiK to Khino ho brightly In IiIh own houI tlmt he could not comprehend why others could not see and believe llkev/lse. lit' talked with Ills friend until the dawn bepin to tint the top of Abu Kubays. but without effect. At every turn he was met by the bitter preju- dice held by the Meccans against the whole Jewish race, u prejudice which kept even Amzl the benevolent from bellevluf? In any- thing advocated by them. " Why do they not show Christ In their lives, then?" he would say. " You cannot Judge the whole Christian band by the misdeeds of a few, who are, indeed, no Christians," Y^usuf ])leaded. " True; yet a religion such as you describe should appeal to more of them, and would, If it were all you Imagine It to be. A per- fect religion should be exemplified in the lives of those who profess It." " I grant you that that Is true," was Yu- suf's reply. " And as an example let me bring you to Nathan and his family. No- body could talk for one hour to them without feeling that they have found, at least, some- thing which we do not possess. This some- thing, they say. Is their God." " Well, well, I shall do so to please you," said Amzi indifferently, " but I hope that a longer acquaintance may not spoil your trust in these pec \" Further e: ^ostulation was vain. Yusuf re- tired to his own apartment, and prayed long and fervently, in his own simple way, offer Ing thanks for the light which was breaking so radiantly on his own soul, and beseeching the loving Jesus to touch the heart of Amzi. who, he knew, though less enthusiastic than he, also deolred to know truth. r ^r And before he lay down for a short rest, he said: " Grant, O Jesus, thou who art ever pres- ent, that I may know thee better, and that Amzi, too, may learn to know thee. Reveal thyself to him as thou art revealing thyself to me. that we may know thee qh we Hho\dd."' The priest's face grew radiant with happi- ness as he concluded. And yet, In that same city, vice held sway; for, even as th»» priest prayed, a dark tlgure emerged from an unused upi)er attic In the house of Nathan the Jew. and, escaping by a window, descended a garden stoir and disappeareil in the darknews. Even in that dim light, had one h)oked he might have n(tt«'d that the mysterious prowler wore the dress of a dervish. CHAPTER VI. YUSUF'S FIRST MEETING WITH MOHAMMED. " A person with abnormal auditory sensations often comes tn interpret them us voices of demons, or as tbe voice of one commanding blm to do some deed. This bulluclnation. in turn, becomes an apperceivinh organ, i. e., other perceptions and ideas are assimilated to it: it becomes a center about which many ideas gather and are correspondingly distorted."— .i/ci^/tan, Psy- chology %^ "^W '^vPON the evening of ^v ^t ™ M the following day, Amzl and Yusuf set out in quest of Mo- hammed, to whom the manuscript had not yet been given. Stopping at the house of Cadljah, a stone building having some pretensions to grandeur, they learned that Mohammed had left the city. Accordingly, thinking he would probably be found in the Cave of Hira, they took a by-path towards the mountains. The sun was hot, but a pleasant breeze blew from the plains towards the Nejd, and, from the elevation which they now ascended, Yusuf noted with Interest a scene every IK)int of which was entirely different from that of his Persian home— different perhaps from that of any other spot on the face of the earth; a scene desolate, wild, and barren, I! THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 21 yet destinort to be the ornrile of a mljrhty quite visible. Ytisuf had observed the jfrent movemoijt that was ere long to agitate the Hystein of barter, the buyluR and HelllnR that entire peninsula o** Arabia, and eventually went on beneath the roof of that long por- to exereiHe ItM baneful Infliience over a great tleo, within the vei'y precincts of the temple part of the Eastern Hem- isphere.* Below him lay the long, narrow, sandy valiey. No friendly group of pnhns arose to break Its d eary monotony; no green luing, save a few parched aloes, was there to form a pleas- ant resting - place for the eye. The passes below, those ever - populous roads leading to the Nejd, Syria, Jeddah, and Arabla-Fell.v, were crowded with people; yet, even their presence did not suffice to remove the air of deadness from the scene. Of one thing only could the beholder be really conscious — desola- tion, desolation; a desolate city surrounded by huge, bare. sk(>leton - lllce moun- tains, grim old Abu Ku- bays with the city stretch- ing half way up Its gloomy side, on the east; the Red mountain on the west; Jebel Kara toward Tayf. and Jebel Thaur with Jebel Jiyad the Greater, on the south. Yusuf watched the peo- ple, many of whom were pilgrims, swarming like so many ants below him towards the Caaba, vrhich was in full view, standing like a huge sarcophagus In tlie center of the great courtyard. In the transparent air of the Orient, even the pillars supporting the covered portico about the courtyard were * By the Intest statistics the number of Mohamme- dans now scattered throughout Asia, Africa, and the south-eastern part of Europe amounts to some 176,- 834,372. " Read, O Mohammed, and see him who was able to restore the withered hand."— See pajfc 23. set apart for the worship of the Deity, and. as he watched the pigmy creatures, now swarming towards the trading stalls, now hastening to perform Tawaf about the tem- ple, he almost wept tliat such sacrilege should exist, and a great throb of pity for these erring people whose spiritual nature 11 it n hi ^>r. ir 22 THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. f: ■ i^ was barren as the vast, treeless, vcrdureless waste about them, filled his breast. Am;;! directed his attention towards the east, where the blue mountains of Tayf stood like outposts la the distance. " There," said he, " at but a three days' Journey is the district of plenty, the Canaan of Mecca, whence come the grapes, melons, cucumbers, and pomegranates that are to be seen In our markets. There are pleasant dales and gardens where the camel-thorn gives way to a carpet of verdure; where the mlmos.. and acacia give place to the glossy- leaved flg-tree, to stately palms, and pome- granates of the scarlet fruit; where rippling streams are heard, and the songs of birds fill the air. - There is a tradition that Adam, when driven out of the Garden of Eden, set- tled at Mecca; and there, on the site of the temple yonder, and Immediately beneath a flittering temple of pearly cloud, shimmer- ing dews, and rainbow lights said to be in Paradise above,— the Balt-el Maamur of Heaven,— was built, by the help of angels, the first Caaba, a resplendent temple with pillars of jasper and roof of ruby. Adam then compassed the temple seven times, as the angels did the Batt above in perpetual Tawaf He then prayed for a bit of fertile land, and immediately a mountr.in from Syria appeared, performed Tawaf round the Caaba, and then settled down yonder at Tayf. Hence, Tayf is ven yet called ' Kita mln el Sham '—a piece of Syria, the father- land." " So then, this Caaba, according to tra- dition. Is of early origin?" " The Arabs believe that when the earthly Bait-el Maamur was taken to heaven at Adam's death, a third one was built of stone and mud by Seth. This was swept away by the Deluge, but the Black Stone was kept safe In Abu Kubays. which is, therefore, called ' El Amin "— t' e Honest. After the fiood, a fourth House was built by our father Abraham, to whom the angel Gabriel restored the stone. Abraham's build- ing was repaired and In part restored by the Amalikah tribe. A sixth Caaba was built by the children of Kahtan, Into whoae tribe, say the Arabs, Ismail was married. The seventh house was built by Kusay bin Kilab, a forefather of Mohammed, and I have reason to believe that he was the first vvho filled It with the idols which now disgrace its walls. Kusay's house was burnt, its cloth covering (or kiswah) catching fire from a torch. It was rebuilt by the Koreish (Qurftis) a few years ago. It was then thai the door was placed high above the ground, as you see It, and then that the movable stair was constructed. Then, too, the six columns which support the roof were added, and Mohammed, El Amin, was chosen to deter- mine the position of the Black Stone in the wall. So, friend, I have now given you In part, the history of the Caaba." Bestowing a last look upon the temple, the friends walked for some distance northward across the slopes of Mount Hira, until a low, dark opening appeared in the face of a rock. Drawing back a thorny bush from its door, they entered the cave. A low moaning noise sound d within. For a moment, the tran- sition from the white glare without to the twUigiit of the cave blinded them, then they saw that the moans proceeded from Mohammed, who was lying on his back on the stone floor. His head-dress was awry, his face was purple, and froth Issued from his mouth. Amzl seized an earthen vessel of water, and' bathed his brow, r ' . .' ? ■ "Poor fellow!" he said, "how often he may have sufferi^d here alone! It has been his custom for years to spend the holy month of Ramadhan here in prayer and meditation. He has often taken these fits before; but. If what is said be true, he knows not that he is suffering, for angels appear to lilm dui'ing the paroxysms." ? -■ -Wi>t " -vriW- " It seems to me much more like a fit of epilepsy," said Yusuf. rather sarcastically. " See, he begins to come to himself again." Mohammed had stopped moaning, and his face began to regain its natural color. Presently he opened his eyes In a dazed way, and sat up. He was a man of middle height, with a ruddy, rather florid com- plexion, a high forehead, and very even, THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 23 white teeth. There was something com- manding and dignified in hi« appearance. He wore a bushy beard, and was habited in a striped cotton gown of cloth of Yemen; and, from his person emanated the sweet odor of choicest perfumes of the Nejd and Arabia- Felix. "Ah, it is Amzi!" he said. "Pardon me, friend, but the angel has just left me, and I failed to recognize you at once, my mind was so occupied with the wonder of his communi- cations; for, friend, the time is nigh, even at hand, when the prophet of Allah, the One, the only Person of the Godhead, is to be pro- claimed!" His voice was low and musical, and he spoke as one under the influence of an in- spiration. " Has the angel appeared to you in visible form?" - . " Sometimes he appears in human form, but in a blinding light; at other times I hear a sound as of a silver bell tinlding afar. Then I bear no words, but the truth sinlis upon my soul, and burns itself into my brain, and I feel that the angel spealts." "Of what, then, has he spoken?" asked Amzi. " The time in which the full revelation shall be thrown open to man is not yet. But it will come ere long. None, heretofore, save my own kin and friends, have been given aught of the great message; yet to you. Amzi, may I say that Abraham, Moses. Christ, have all been servants of the true God. yet for Mohammed has been reserved the honor of casting out the idolatry with which the worship of our people reeks. For him is destined the glory of purging our Caaba of its images, and of reinstating the true religion of our fathers in this fair land. Then shall men know that Allah is the one Goo, and Mohammed Is his prophet!" " Think you to place yourself on an equality with the Son of God?" cried Yusuf, sternly. Mohammed turned quickly upon him, and his face worked in a frenzy of excitement. " I tell you there is, but one God,— one in- visible, eternal God, Allah above all in earth and hea en,— and Mohammed is the prophet of God!" he cried. Yusuf perceived that he had to deal with a fanatic, a religious enthusiast, who would not be reasoned with. " Yes," he continued, " may it be Moham- med's privilege to lead men back to truth, and to turn them from heathendom; to teach them to be wise as serpents, harmless as doves, and to show them how to walk with clean hands and hearts through the earth, living uprightly in the sight of all men!" " Yet," ventured Yusuf. " did not Jesua teach something of this?" " Jesus was great and good," said Moham- med; " he was needed in his day upon the earth, but men have fallen away again, and Mohammed is the greatest and last, the prophet of Allah!" The speakei*'s eyes were flashing; he was yet under the Influence of an overpowering excitement. The color began to rush to his face, find iusuf, fearing a return of the swoon, deemed it wise not to prolong the ar- gument, but delivered the manuscript left by the peddler, saying: " Read, O Mohammed, and see him who was able to restore the withered hand stretched forth in faith. Perceive him, and commit not this sacrilege." Trusting himself to say no more, Yusuf hastily left the cavern, followed by Amzi, who remarked, thoughtfully: •' .ii ' " Yet, there is much good, too, in that which jNIohammed would advocate." " There is," assented Yusuf. " Yet, though I know not why, I cannot trust this man. 'Tis an instinct, if you will. What, think you, does he mean to win by this procedure, —power, or esteem, or fame?" Amzi sliook his head quickly in denial. " Mohammed is one of the most upright of men, one of the last to seek personal favor or distinction by dishonest means, one of the last to be a maker of lies. Verily, Yusuf, I know not what to think of his revelations. If he does not In truth see these visions, he at least imagines he does. He is honest in what he says." "*If he does not In truth'!" repeated ss sx 24 THE DAY8 OF MOHAMMED. u Yusuf. " Surely you, Anial, have no con- fidence in his visions V * Amzi smiled. " And yet Yusuf, no longer apo than last night, was ready to believe the testimony of a pauper Jew in regard to simi- lar assertions," he said. " But keep your mind easy, friend; I have not accepted Mo- hammed's claims. I am open to conviction yet, and I am not hasty to believe. In fact, I must confess, Yusuf, an entire lack of that fervor, of that capacity for religious feeling, which is so marked a trait in my Persian priest." " Yet you, too, professed to be a seeker for truth," said Yusuf. reproachfully. V " My desire for truth is simply to know it for the mere sake of knowing it," said Amzi. Yusuf sighed. He did not realise that he had to deal with a peculiar nature, one of the hardest to impress in spiritual things— the indifferent, calculating mind, which is more than half satisfied with moral virtue, not realizing the infinitely higher, nobler, happier life that comes from the inspiration of a constant comi)anionship with (lod. " Alas, I am but a poor teacher, Amzi," he said. " You know, perhaps, more of the doc- tiines of these Christians than I; yet I am conv'nced that to me has come a blessing which you lack, and I would fain you had it too. And I know so little that it seems I can- not help you. \ou will, at least, come and talk with Nathan?" unvi i " As you will," said Amzi. In a half -banter- ing tone. " Prove to me that these Hebrews are infallible, and I shall half accept their Jewish philosophy." i T ,^!frr lf^|? -;v ■- f f * You cannot expect to find them or any one on this earth infallible," returned Yusuf, quietly. " I can only promise that you will find in them quiet, sincere, upright Chris- tians." They had reached a sudden turn on the path, and before them, on the top of a steep cliff, stood Dumah, with his fair hair stream- ing in the sunshine. He was singing, and they paused to listen. " He Is gone, the noble, the handsome, And the tenrs of the mother are falling Like dew3 from the cup of the Illy When it bends Its head in the darkness." "Poor Dumah!" said Amzi "singing his thoughts as usual. V/hat uow, Dumah V Who is weeping?" "A poor Jewess," said the boy, "and her two children cling to her gown and weep too. Ah, if Dumah had power he would soon set him free." " Set whom free?" asked Yusuf. " The father; they say he took the cup to buy bread; but for the sake of *he children, Dumah would set him free." tt iv.,:,,- y.,, ■:■ " Oh, it is only a case of stealing down in the Jewish quarter," said Amzi, carelessly. " Yet," returned the other, *' a weeping mother and helpless children should appeal to the heart of Amzi the benevolent. Let us turn aside and see what it is about. Dumah, lead us." They followed the boy to the hall or court- room of the city. A judge sat on a raised dais; witnesses were below, and the owner of the gold cup was talking excitedly and calling loudly for justice. " There is the culprit," whispered Amzi. Yusuf was struck dumb. It was Nathan, the Christian Jew! Agony was written in his face, yet there was patience in it too. His arms were bound, and his head was bent in what might have been interpreted as hu- miliation. " Once more," cried the judge, " have you aught to say for yourself, Jew?" Nathan raised his head proudly, and looked the judge straight in the eyes. " I am guiltless," he said, in low, firm tones. A murmur burst from the crowd, and ex- clamations could be heard. *' Not guilty! And the cup found in his house!" " Coward dog! Will he not yet confess?" "The scourge is too good for him!" " Have you no explanation to offer?" asked the judge. " None." " Then, guards, place him in irons to await our further pleasure. In the meantime forty lashes of the scourge. Next!" Nathan walked out with firm step and head erect. A low sob burst from some one THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 25 in the crowd. It was the wife of Nathan, weeping, while little Mauasseh and Mary clung to her weeping too. Yusuf touched her on the arm. " Hush! Be calm!" he said. " All will yet be well. I, for one, Itnow that he is innocent, and I will not rest until he i« free." "Tliank God! He has not forsaken us!" exclaimed the woman. Yusuf put a piece of money into Manasseh's hand. " Here, take ycmr mother home, and buy some bread," he said. " And here, pretty lad. know you the touch of gold?" said Amzi, as he slipped another coin into the child's hand. " Now. Yusuf." he went on, " come, let us see your .fewish friends of yester-even." " Alas, Amzi, these are they," returned the priest, sadly, " and I fear yon poor woman feels little like talking to us in the freshness of her grief." Amzi laughed, mysteriously. " So your teacher has proved but a common Jew thief," he said. ,.;>; i ; . . . . , : '; ,«: ■ w: Yusuf turned almost fiercely. " Do you be- lieve this vile story?" he exclaimed. " Did you not see truth stamped upon Nathan's face?" f . " You must admit that circumstances are against him. The proof seems conclusive." " I will never believe it. wei*e the proof produced by their machinations ten times as conclusive! There is some mystery here which I will unravel!" " My poor Yusuf, you are too credulous iu respect to these people. So be it. You be- lieve in your Jews, 1 shall believe in my Mohammed, until the tale told is a different one," laughed Amzi; and for the moment Yusuf felt helpless. -•-& 'ih :>lvci-\ J')' >••/■>;:' •.-?; ((;.i"V^)i - ,- - • - - -r—.'-Tr^r** CHAPTER VII. V^*nf r YUSUF STUDIES THE SCRIPTURES.— CON- NECTING EVENTS. " Surely un humble busbandnian that serveth God is better tbaa a proud philosopber who, neglecting himself, is occupied in studying the course ot the heavens."— -Thotnas d Kempis. r t • %. OR many weeks, even months, after this, Yusuf's life, to one who knew not the workings of his mind, seemed colorless, and filled witii a monoton- ous round of never- varying occupation. Yet in those few weeks he lived more than in all his life before. Life is not made up of either years or actions— t lie development of thought and character is the important thing; and in this period of ap- parent waiting, Yusuf grew and developed in the light of his new understanding. He read and thouglit and studied, and yet found time for paying some attention to outer affair.s. In Persia he had amassed a considerable fortune, which he had conveyed to Mecca in the form of jewels sewn into his belt and into the seams of his garments, hence he was abundantly able to pay his way, and to expend something in charity; and between his and Amzi's generosity tlie family of Nathan lacked nothing. Yusuf obtained possession of parts of the Scriptures, written on parchment, and spent every morning in their perusal, ever finding this period a precious feast full of comfort- ing assurances, and hope-inspiring promises. He never forgot to pray for Aiiizi, to whom he often read and expounded passages of Scripture, without being able to notice any apparent effect of his teaching. It troubled him much that Amzi lent such a willing ear to Mohammed, and to the few fanatics among the Hanifs who had now professed their belief In this self-proclaimed prophet of Allah. It seemed marvelous that a man of Amzi's wisdom and learning should be so carried away by such a flimsy /doctrine as that which Mohammed now began to pro- claim. Amzi appeared to have fallen under the spell wnich Mohammed seemed to cast over many of those with whom he came in contact; and, though he acknowledged no i:l' i.\- \ ■ ^ i.. i. . .i,. < , ,j>^i > . |iyMf» ' .-Ui i l > V<« 26 THE DATS OF MOHAMMED. belief in the so-called prophet, neither did he profess disbelief in him. Yusuf's hapisiest hours were those spent in the little Jewish Christian church, a poor, uncomfortable building, where an earnest handful of Jews, who were nevertheless firm believers in the divinity of Christ, met, often in secret, always in fear of the derisive Arabs, for prayer and study of the Gospel. Araonji these, the wife of Natlian was never absent. Yusuf sought untiringly to solve the mys- tery of the gold cup. Circumstantial evi- dence was certainly against Nathan. Awad, a rich merchant of Mecca, had placed the cup near a window in his house, and had for- gotten to remove it ere retiring for the night. A short time before dawn he had heard a noise and risen to see what it was. He had gone outside just in time to see a figure pass- ing hurriedly across a small field near his house. Even then he had not thought of the cup. But in the morning it was missed, and tracks were followed from the window as far as the ruined house to which Nathan's family had gone in their poverty. The house wa« searched, and the cup was found hidden in a heap of rubbish in an unused apart- ment. Nathan had just returned with little save the clothes he wore; it was well known that his wife and children had been verging on starvation, and the public, ever ready to judge, formed its own conclusion, and turned with Nemesis eye upon the poor Jew. No clue whatever remained, except a smaii carnelian, which Yusuf found afterwards upon the floor, and which he took possession of at once. For hours he would wander about, hoping to find some trace of the rob- ber, who, he firmly believed, had fancied himself followed by Awad, and had hurriedly secreted the cup, trusting to return for it later, and to make bis escape in the mean- time. All this, however, did not help poor Nathan, who, chained and fettered, lan- guished in a close, poorly-ventilated cell, with little hope of deliverance. Yusuf knew the rancor of the Meccans against the Jews, and somewhat feared the result, yet he did not give up hope. " We are praying for him," Nathan's wife would say. " Nathan and Yusuf are praying too, and we know that whatever happens must be best, since God has willed it so for us." Little Manasseh chafed more than anyone at the long suspense. One day he said: " Mother, my name means blackness, sor- row, or something like that, does it not? Why did you call me Manasseh? Was it to be an omen of my life?" " Forbid that it should!" the mother ex- claimed, passing her hand lovingly through his waving hair. " It must have been be- cause of your curls, black as a raven's wing. Sorrow will not be always. Joy may come soon; but if not, 'at eventide it shall be light.' " " Does that mean in heaven?" he asked. " He has prepared for us a mansion in the heavens, an house not made with hands. ' There shall be no night there,' and ' sorrow and sighing shall fiee away,' " said the mother with a far-away look in her eyes. " But it seems so long to wait, mother," said the boy impatiently. " Yet heaven is not far away, Manasseh," she returned, quickly. " Heaven is wherever God is. And have we not him with us al- ways? ' In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.' Never forget that, Manasseh." " Well, I wish we were a little happier now," he would say; and then, to divert the boy's attention from his present troubles, his mother would tell him about her happy home in Palestine, where she and her little sister, Lois, had watched their sheep on the green hillsides, and woven chains of flowers to put about the neck of their pet lamb; of how they grew up, and Lois married the Bedouin Musa, and had gone far away. Thus far, Yusuf knew nothing of this con- nection of Nathan's family with his Bedouin friends. It was yet to prove another link in the chain which was binding him so closely to this godly family. His many occupa- tions, and the feeling which impelled him at -^ THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 27 ' every spare moment to seek for some clue which would lead to Nathan's liberation, left him little time for conversation with them for the present, except to see that their wants were supplied. Then, too, he was troubled about Amzi, and somewhat anxious about the result of Mohammed's proclamations, which were now beginning to be noised abroad. From holding meetings in caves and private houses, the " prophet " had begun to preach on the streets, and from the top of the little eminence Sufa, near the foot of Aba Kubays. Many of the people of Mecca held him up to ridicule, and treated his declarations with derisive contempt. Among his strongest op- ponents were his own kindred, the Koreish, of the line of Haschem and of the rival line of Abd Schems. The head of the latter tribe, Abu Sofian, Mohammed's uncle, was especially bitter. He was a formidable foe, as he lived in the highlands, his castles being built on precipitous rocks, and manned by a set of wild and savage Arabs. Yet Mohammed went on, neither daunted by fear nor discouraged by sarcasm. The number of his followers steadily increased; his first converts, Ali, his cousin, and Zeid, his faithful servant, being quiclily joined by many others. Mohammed now boldly proclaimed the message delivered to him in the cave of Hira the Koran. He declared that the law of Moses had given way to the Gospel, and that the Gospel was now to give way to the Ko'-an; that the Savior was a great prophet, but was not divine; and that he, Mohammed, was to be the last and greatest of all the prophets. Such assertions were usually received with shouts of derision; and y«t, when Moham- med eloquently upheld fairness and sin- cerity in all public and private dealings, and urged the giving of alms, and the living of a pure and humble life, there were those who. like Amzi, felt that there was something worthy of admiration in the new prophet's religion; and his very firmness and sincerity, even when 8p«,t upon, and covered with mud thrown upon him as he prayed In tha Caaba, won for him friends. The opposition of his uncles, Abu Lahab and Abu Sofian, was, however, carried on witli the greatest rancor; and at last a decree was issued by Abu Sofian forbidding the tribe of the Koreish from liaving any inter- course whatever with Mohammed. This de- cree was written on parchment, and hung up in tlie Caaba, and Mohammed was ulti- mately forced to flee from the city. He and his disciples Avent for refuge to the ravine of Abu Taleb, at some distance from Mecca. Here they would have suffered great want, had it not been for the kindness of Amzi, who managed to send them food in seciet. But the prophet's zeal never flagged. When the Ramadhan again came round, and it was safe to venture from his temporary retreat, he came boldly into the city, preached again from the hill Safa. and proclaimed his new revelations, praying for tlie people, and end- ing every prayer with the declaration now universal throughout the Moslem world,— " God! There is no God but he, the ever- liviag! He sleepeth not, neither doth he slumber! To him belong the heavens and the earth, and all that they contain. Who shall intercede with him unless by his per- mission? His sway extendeth over the heavens and the earth, and to sustain them both is no burthen to liim. He is the High, the Mighty!" The sublimity of this eulogy of the Most High may be readily traced to the psalms, particularly to that grandest of all songs, the one hundred and fourtli psalm, which has been said to be remarkablfc in that it em- braces the wliole cosmos. And. in fact, tlie whole trend of the Koran may be traced to a study of the Bible, particularly to the New Testament, with occasional digres- sions into the Mishnu, and the Talmud of the Hebrews. " Feed the hungry! Visit the sick! Bow not to idols! Pray con? -^tly. and direct thy prayers immediately to the Deity!" These were the constant exhortations of the prophet during these first days of his min- iftry— exhortations which demand the ad- . i' I 28 THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. |ttr li 1 1 miration of all who consider the grossnoss and Idolatry of the age In which he lived. Had he never gone further, succeeding ages might have been tempted to pardon his hallucinations. At the time, doctrines which savored of so much magnanimity, and which were immeasurably in advance of the mocli- ery of religion tliat had so long held sway among the majority of the Arabs, at once commended tliemsolves to many. The effect of the new teaching was enhanced by the burning entluisiasm and powerful oi*atory of Moliammed. who was not ignorant of tlie effect of elotiuent delivery and glowing language on a people ever passionate and keenly susceptible 1o the influence of a stronjT and vivid presentation. Ridicule and persecution ceased for a time, and at last, when the decree was removed, Mohammed and his followers returned In triumph to Mecca. Once again he was obliged to fly for his life. Accompanied by Zeid, he went to Tayf , and there spent a month in its perfumed vales, wandering by cooling streams, medi- tating beneath the waving fronds of the palm-trees, or resting in cool gardens, lulled by the rustling leaves of the nebeck (the lotus-tree), and Inhaling the fresh perfume of peach and apple blooms. But the Inhabitants of Tayf grew hostile, and the prophet again set out on foot for Mecca. He sat down to rest in an orchard. There he dreamed that a host of genii waited before him, begging him to teach them EI Islam. In the night* he arose and proceeded, with renewed courage, on his journey. On the way he fell in with some pilgrims from Yathrib, or Medina, and to them he unfolded his revelations. They listened spell-bound as he preached from Al Akaba, and besought him that he would come or would send dis- ciples with them to their northern town. Ac- cordingly, Mohammed chose several converts to accompany them upon this first mission, and a time was set for their going. * Moslems assort that upon this night Mohammed was carried through the seven heavens of which El Islam tells. On the evening preceding this^ appointed time, Yusuf sat in a hanging i)alcony of Amzi'3 house. The pink flush of the setting sun was over the sky; the murmur of the city arose with a subdued hum—" the city's stilly sound"; a parchment containing a part of the Scriptures was on the priest's knee, but he stopped reading and gave himself up to meditation, wondering deeply at the strange course that events were taking, and surmising vaguely the probable result of the revolution that seemed impending. His thouglit« tunied to Amzi, who. as yet. closed his ears to the Gospel tidings which were proving such a comfort and joy to the priest. A step sounded behind him. It was Amzi himself, attired in traveling garb, and with his camel-stick already in his hand, ss . , " What now, friend Yusuf? Dreaming still?" he said. "Will you not say farewell to your friend?" "What! Are you going on a journey? Pray, where goes Amzi on such short no- tice?" " Ah," smiled Amzi, " I almost fear to tell my Persian proselyte, lest the vials of his wi'ath be poured on my defenseless and sub- missive head. To make a long story short, I go with the disciples of Mohammed to Medina." "As Mohammed's disciple? Amzi, has It come to this!" exclaimed the priest. " Chain your choler, my friend," laughed the other. " I merely go to observe the out- come of this movement in the town of the North. Besides, the heat of Mecca in this season oppresses me, and I long for the cool breezes of Medina. Yusuf, I shall have rare letters to write you, for I feel that there will be a mighty movement in favor of Moham- med there." " You begin to believe in him, Amzi!" said Yusuf in tones of deepest concern. " His doctrines suit me, as containing many noble precepts. His proclamations are moving the town In such a way as was never known heretofore." " Consider the movement caused by the teaching o. Christ when he was on earth!" St 1;; THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 29 cried Yusuf. " Dare you compare this petty tempest with that?" ** Yet Christ's very words have been here where all might read them, for lonj; enough. Why have they not drawn the attention of, and, if divine, why hav they not shown their power among, our citizens?" " Because ye have eyes that see not, and ears that hear not! ' cried the priest impetu- ously. " Can you not see that the doctrines of the Scriptures are just those which Mo hammeed. He was about to tell of the little carnelian stone, when his eye fell upon one of the numerous rings upon the Jew's fat fingers. There, In the center of it, was a small cavity from which, ai)parently, a jewel of some sort had fallen from its set- ting. Yusuf almost sprang to his feet in the ex- citement of the discovery. 'Well?" asked the Jew, noting the pause. " I will tell you later," said Yusuf. " For the present— have some dates, will you not?" A servant entered with a tray on which were fruits and small calces. The peddler besought Yusuf, for friend- ship's sake, to eat with him; but the Persian made a gesture of disgust. " I have already eaten," he said. " Over- eating in Mecca in the hot season is not wise. Abraham, do yor always wear so many rings on your fingers?" " Oh, no," returned the Jew, " sometimes 1 wear them; sometimes I carry them for months In my belt. This "— pointing to a huge band of ancient workmanship—" is the most curious one of the lot. I got it for carrying a bundle of manuscript from a man at Oman to your friend Amzl, here. It seems that Amzl had once lived with him at Oman, but the man— I forget his name — went Inland to Teheran, or some other place in Persia, and Amzl, after traveling about for two or three years, settled in Mecca. This one "— and he pointed out the ring on which Yusuf 's eyes were fixed—" is the most expensive of the lot, but a stone fell out of it once when I was carrying it In my belt." ^ ^ " Did you not look In your belt for it?" " No use; it had worked out between the stitches. I had no idea where I lost it." " Have you had that ring long?" " Long! Why, that ring has not been off my peraon for fifteen years." " I suppose you would not sell it?" THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. 31 The peddler shrugRed his shoulders, and looked up with n shrewd glance. " That depends on how much money It would bring." " I have Uttle Idea of the value of such rings," said the Persian, " but I have a friend who, I am convinced, would appre- ciate that one. I should like to present it to him. Win you take this for It?" He drew forth a coin worth three times the value of the ring. The peddler immediately closed the bargain and handed the ring over, then devoted his attention again to the table. The priest went to the window. He drew the little stone from his bosom and slipped It Into tlie cavity. It fitted exactly. He then walked back to the table, and held It before the astonished Jew. "How now, ,TeAV?" he said with a smile. " Saw you such a gem before?" "My very own carnelian!" exclaimed the peddler. " Where did you find it?" " You are sure It is yours?" " Sure! On my oath, it Is mine. There is not another such stone in Arabia, with that streak across the top." The priest laid his hand on the Jew's shoulder and bent close to him. " That stone," he said, " Avas found in the house of Nathan the Jew, beside the stolen cup. How came it there?" The little Jew turned pale. His guilt showed In his face. He knew that he was undone. With a quick, serpent-like movement, he attempted to escape, but the priest's grasp was firm as a vise. " No, peddler!" he said, " you may go, but It must be with me. To the magistrate you must go, and that right speedily. The Inno- cent must no longer suffer In your rightful place. Come, Aza,"— to an attendant who had been In the room— "your tongue may be needed to supplement mine." The Jew's little eyes rolled around rest- lessly. He was a thorough coward, and his teeth chattered with fear as he was half- dragged Into the blinding glare of the street, and down the long, crooked way, with a crowd of beggars and saucy boys following In tlie wake of the trio. Once or twice again he made a quick and sudden movement to elude the grasp of his captors, but the priest's grip was firm and his muscle like steel. Justice was in Yusuf's heart, and his anxiety to procure Nathan's release was so great that he strode on, almost forgetting the poor little Jew, who was obliged to keep up a constant hobbling rim to save himself from being dragged to the ground. In the hall of justice the usual amount of questioning went on, but the evidence afforded by the ring was so conclusive that the order for Nathan's release and the ped- dler's Imprisonment was soon given. Yusuf accompanied the guards to Na- than's ceil. The poor prisoner was sitting on the bare clay with his head burled on his knee. An unusual clamor sounded outside of the door. The heavy bolt was with- drawn, and the next moment Yusuf rushed In. crying, " Free, Nathan, free!" Nathan fell on the other's bosom. The sudden Joy was too much for him, and he could only lie, like a little child, sobbing on the breast of the stalwart priest. The warden rattled the bolts impatiently. " Come, there's room outside!" he said. " I have not time to stand here all day!" " Pardon us." said the priest, gently. " We go; yet. warden, ere we depart, may I ask you to deal leniently with that poor wretch?" and he pointed to the Jew. who was now crouched shivering in his chains. " We but do as we are ordered," returned the warden unfeelingly. " The officers will be here presently with the scourge; we can not prevent that." The peddler winced, and Nathan raised a face full of pity. "Warden," he said, "if you have a drop of mercy in your heart. If you hope for mercy for yourself, treat him as a man. Let him not die for want of a pittance of water." He turned the sleeve of his loose garment back to expose the emaciated arm with the bones showing through the loose skin. " There," he said, " let that touch your heart, If heart you have, and spare him. Poor Abraham!"— turning to the peddler— I- 32 THE DAYS OF MOHAMMED. i' » "