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my arrival would be fortunate. "You will find," he added, "in the city of Saidabad whither you are journeying, a learned doctor of the Mosque of Friday, who is called the Eye-of-Wisdom and who has made an illuminating study of the art of Dream Interpretation. Should you require further advice on this matter, consult him with confidence, for his knowledge of the mystic science surpasses ours as the peak of Demavend outtops the hills of the Shimran."

To the smile of humility of the Eyeof-Wisdom was added a deprecating gesture which denoted an unwilling acknowledgment that the remark of the Engineer contained a measure of perspicacity and truth.

'This dream,' inquired the Eye-ofWisdom with professional interest, professional interest, 'which you say concerns a personage of Saidabad, has not by chance been repeated since your arrival in our midst?'

'Alas!' said the Engineer distressfully. 'Not once, but several times. But why should I trouble this distinguished company on such an occasion with a recital of my secret distresses? Yet perhaps the problem is of interest to the Eye-of-Wisdom and to the other learned doctors, who are all Lamps of Enlightenment.'

'All of us who are at this moment enjoying the gracious hospitality of the Honorable Engineer,' replied the Eyeof-Wisdom, are priests and doctors of the Mosque of Friday. And all have been associated in those humble inquiries to which allusion has been made. It seems that the Honorable Engineer has an unusual experience to relate. Let him relate it openly, as a patient to his physicians. It may be that the inadequate researches of this company may bring to light a satisfactory interpretation of this dream, which is the cause of such distress to his habitually calm and undistracted mind.'

The Engineer paused a moment to

collect his thoughts, while the assembled guests rearranged their mantles and prepared to listen.

'My friends,' he began, 'one night, as I lay asleep in my house in Tehran, I had a dream in which a saintly personage, who declared that he was a native of this city, appeared before me and complained bitterly of his estate. When I awoke, I was much concerned and puzzled, for at that time your delectable city was wholly unknown to me. Judge of my astonishment, however, when, on the very next day, I was informed by the Minister of the Public Works Department that I was to proceed without delay to Saidabad. I was so concerned at this strange coincidence that, before starting on my journey, I determined, as I have said, to consult one Sheikh Rahim, a learned doctor, who, when he heard my story, reassured me, saying that the dream was not unfavorable and that I should not hesitate to set out on my journey.

'But, on the very night of my arrival in this city, no sooner had sleep taken possession of my faculties than the personage again appeared before me. He was of saintly aspect; his beard was of a silvery whiteness; he wore the turban of one who has performed the sacred pilgrimage; and in his hand he held a copy of the Word. "Welcome to Saidabad," said he, "O Ibrahim, my deliverer." "O Blessed One," I replied, prostrating myself before the Saint, "tell your unworthy slave what dangers or discomforts threaten you, and by the justice of God I will deliver you from them all."

"Thereupon the Saint lifted me by the hand and said: "Listen, O Ibrahim! I whom thou seest am Sheikh Mahmoud, whom men call Saint, Guide, and Holy One. For five generations I have lain in a small chapel, over against the city gate which is named after me. But no rest have I found there: day after

day, from the first streak of dawn until far into the night, the noises of the passers-by, the cries of street vendors, and the wrangling of barterers distract me; I hear the booming and jangling of bells, the braying of mules and asses, the grunting of camels, the cries of the muleteers and camel drivers; at night I hear the howl of the jackal and the laugh of the hyena without the city wall. As the generations pass, the noises multiply. O Ibrahim, I desire to lie in a place of quietude. Seek out for me, O my son, a secluded corner in this the city of my birth, where I may rest in peace and hear only the call to prayer and the voices of the faithful." With that he disappeared, and I woke, aghast at the reality of the vision.

'My friends,' continued the Engineer, 'this is not all. Since I arrived in this auspicious city, three times has the holy Sheikh Mahmoud appeared to me. Three times, repeating each time his piteous appeal. I have spent my days wandering about the city, seeking for a peaceful and secluded spot, where the Blessed Saint might rest. Until yesterday, I despaired of finding it. Then, happening at the hour of the third prayer to enter the courtyard of the Mosque of Friday, I was attracted by a pathway which led under an arch adorned with a sacred inscription in tiles of black and yellow. Beneath the arch was a small door. It led into a delightful courtyard surrounded by a high wall. In the centre of the courtyard was a brimming tank, and on either side of the tank a row of dark cypresses; these were so elegantly placed that the slender beauty of each one was reflected separately in the still water.'

"The prince of blessed memory who, many generations ago, built the Mosque of Friday,' said the Eye-of-Wisdom, 'intended to erect a tomb in this courtyard for himself and his favorite wife. But, having departed on a pilgrimage

to Kerbela, he died there and was buried near the sacred shrine. And the woman married another. So that the courtyard has remained unoccupied ever since.'

'Perhaps,' said the Engineer thoughtfully, 'this spot has been preserved and set aside to harbor at last the sacred dust of the Blessed Saint and Guide, Sheikh Mahmoud.'

"That may be,' answered the Eye-ofWisdom cautiously, 'if, as I anticipate, our interpretation of the singular dreams of the Honorable Engineer confirms his supposition of their meaning.'

'May I without offending suggest,' said the Engineer, 'that, if the bones of Sheikh Mahmoud are removed to this place, honor beyond computation will be added to the Mosque of Friday? And you, my friends,' he continued with enthusiasm, 'who are priests and doctors of the Mosque, will become known throughout this province- nay, throughout all Iran - as Guardians of the Blessed Tomb! Under your fostering care it will become a shrine and a place of pilgrimage for thousands! Who can compute the total of the votive offerings which will flow into the treasury of the Mosque of Friday - for the alleviation of the sufferings of the poor?'

"There is no doubt,' replied the Eyeof-Wisdom, with more affability, 'that the removal of the bones of the Blessed Guide from their present lamentable situation to the holy precincts of the Mosque would add a certain lustre to an already famous foundation. And it is reasonable to suppose that the Tomb, under our care, would acquire renown as a place of pilgrimage. Again, it may be conceded that the more apprehensive or more fortunate pilgrims would open for us the hand of generosity

to the alleviation of the sufferings of the poor. All these things may be conceded; but the difficulty of persuading

the people of Saidabad to consent to the removal of the bones of the justly revered Hajji Sheikh Mahmoud remains to be resolved.'

"That difficulty,' answered the Engineer, 'has by no means been lost sight of. If, for instance, it should become known that the Blessed Guide has appeared in a dream on several occasions to a person of note in the city and complained of his distressful state, begging to be removed to the courtyard adjoining the Mosque; and if,' added affably the Engineer, 'the Blessed Guide should by good fortune appear to one or two of the assembled company, and this also should become known, is there any doubt that in a few days he will appear to a hundred persons more? And then surely the good people of Saidabad would not permit their justly revered Saint to endure his vexations a day longer!'

"The Honorable Engineer has spoken with singular discernment,' answered the Eye-of-Wisdom. "The Saint might well appear to one or two of the assembled company; whereupon the circumstance will certainly be made known. And then doubtless everything will take place as the Honorable Engineer has suggested.'

'May it be added,' said the Engineer, that His Illustrious Presence, the Preserver-of-the-Kingdom, is desirous, with us, that the distresses of the Saint be terminated at an early date? He has desired me to make, on his behalf, a small contribution to the treasury of the Mosque for the alleviation of the sufferings of the poor. He also desires it to be known that a new and elegant shrine with a dome of blue tile work will be erected in the courtyard at his

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charges, beyond, and in alignment with, the tank of water; so that the reverent pilgrims, entering the courtyard beneath the arch, will see, beyond the brimming tank, between a double row of slender cypresses, a turquoise dome under which will rest forever the Blessed Saint and Guide, Sheikh Mahmoud, whose clay is purified and who will there find peace.'

The Eye-of-Wisdom nodded sagely in acquiescence, and observed after an adequate pause:—

"The Chief-of-the-Masons informed us that the Honorable Engineer had proposed to build an avenue through the town; he added, moreover, that the project had been abandoned because of an unforeseen obstacle. Now, how

ever—'

'Now,' interrupted with extreme affability the Engineer, 'since, with the assistance of the discerning Eye-ofWisdom, the obstacle is to be happily removed, the project will be carried out. On the first of the new year the avenue will be opened. Then the good people of Saidabad will forget the annoyances to which they have been subjected, in the joy of moving easily and freely through their city. Doubtless,' continued the Engineer thoughtfully, 'in the scheme of things there is a place for the Saint as well as for the Engineer. Yet, more and more, in this old country, they will meet and perhaps interfere -'

'Whereupon,' interrupted with a smile of tolerance and understanding the Eye-of-Wisdom, 'the Engineer, whose skill and address as a remover of unforeseen obstacles are unsurpassed, will devise for the bewildered Saint a way of dignified withdrawal.'

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Were they not come as guests to a remembered room,
Those words, surrounded by the befriending silence?
But words, ah, words -

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who can tell what they are made of,

Or how inscrutably shaped to color and bloom?

Sharp odors they breathe, and bitter and sweet and strong, Born from exultation, endurance, and desire;

Flying from mind to mind, to bud a thought again,

Spring, and in endless birth their wizard power prolong.

II

There was a voice on a sun-shafted stair

That sang; I heard it singing:

The very trees seemed listening to their roots
Out in the sunshine, and like drops in light
The words rained on the grasses greenly springing.

Ah, lovely living words, what have we done to you?
Each infant thought a soul exulting to be born
Into a body, a breath breathed from the lips, a word
Dancing, tingling, pulsing, a body fresh as dew!
Once in the bonds of use manacled and confined

How have we made you labor, beauty and strength sapped,
Dulled with our dullness, starved to the apathy of a slave,
Outcast in streets, abandoned foundlings of the mind!

III

But once, in stillness of night's stillest hour,
Words from the page I read

Rose like a spirit to embrace my spirit.

Their radiant secret shook me: earth was new;

And I throbbed, like one wakened from the dead.

O swift words, words like flames, proud as a victor's eye, Words armed and terrible, storming the heart, sending Waves of love, and fear, and accusation over

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Peoples, kindling, changing! Alas, but can you die, —
Hardened to wither round the thought wherein you grew?
Become as the blind, leading with slow shuffle the blind,
Heavy like senseless stones the savage kneels before?
O shamed, O victim words, what have we done to you?

THE RIGHT TO BE HAPPY

BY MARY AGNES HAMILTON

ALTHOUGH the sun had long sunk behind the trees, and the last of the afterglow had faded from the sky, we sat on in the garden. The air was warm and motionless; the day's heat had, as it were, dissolved in a faint low mist which now lay along the far rim of the lawn like a gauze, blurring without hiding the forms of the shrubs massed there and the trees beyond. Overhead the heaven, starless as yet, held an opaque and wondrous blue. It too seemed veiled, so still was the air. The birds which at sunset had sung vociferously had fallen silent. Except for a gurgle from the stream, invisible beyond the bushes, and the faint whirr

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of gnats and midges, there was no sound. Trails of smoke from cigars and cigarettes hung in faint purple curls, and gradually dissolved.

We sat on. No one said anything. We were rather drowsy and pleasantly tired. Our gregarious impulses were fatigued, for we had that afternoon endured collectively one of the incidental penalties of summer visits in the country: we had been convoyed en masse to the village fête the usual bazaar with the usual side shows, the usual heat, noise, ennui. Now the dim languor of the summer night was breeding an appropriate melancholy.

The dreamy silence was broken,

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