PREFACE.

In "The Days of Mohammed," one 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 characters depicted.

An attempt has been made, by constant reference to the best works on Mohammed and Arabia, to render the historical basis strictly correct. Especial indebtedness is acknowledged to the writings of Irving, Burton, and the Rev. Geo. Bush; also to the travels of Burckhardt, Joseph Pitts, Ludovico 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 Müller in the introduction 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 weary heart, and that, in helping someone 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

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 country. Though a man of kindliest disposition, yet so benighted he is that, led on by a deep study of the mysteries of Magian and Sabæan rites, he has been induced to offer, in human sacrifice, Imri, the little granddaughter 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.

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 religion which has, though ever so rarely, permitted the 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 Zendavesta of Zoroaster can no longer satisfy his heart's longing; his country-people are sunk in idolatry, and, instead of worshiping the God of whom the priests have a vague conception, persist in bowing down before the symbols[2] themselves, discerning naught but the objects—the sun, moon, stars, fire—light, all in all.

Yusuf, 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 rather than as the Father of love and mercy. In his new spiritual agitation he conceives the idea of a closer relation 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 Sabæan Persians who at an early age obtained a footing in Arabia, and whose influence was, for a time, so strongly marked through the whole district known as the 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 Galahad and the knights of King Arthur's Table, in quest of the Holy Grail, but in search of the scarcely less effulgent radiance of the beams of Truth and Love.

CHAPTER I.

YUSUF BEGINS HIS SEARCH FOR TRUTH.

"Peace, 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 Omnipotent Spirit with impunity, intercede for me, I beseech you! Bow before that Great Sovereign of all wisdom and light, whom we worship through these vague symbols of fire and brightness; plead with him before whom I dare not come, in my behalf. Beseech 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 blackest gloom and rack his soul with torment. If I sin in doubting thus, beseech him to forgive 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 of the Persian sky, purple, and flecked with golden stars, the "forget-me-nots of the angels."

His priestly vestments were dazzlingly white, and upon his shoulders were fixed two snowy wings that swept downward to the ground. His black beard descended far over his breast, and from the eyes above shone forth the glow of a soul yearning towards 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 sacred fire, whose flames were said to have burned unceasingly for nearly one thousand years. The fiery wreaths leaped upwards toward the same purple sky, as if pointing with long, red fingers, in mockery of the[3] priest's devotion; and the ruddy glare, falling upon him 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 darkness, and lighting his white habiliments until, all motionless as he was, he seemed like a marble statue dazzlingly 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 silver, the valleys far below the temple looked deeper in the shade, and the fire 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 Nature, he was getting a faint, far-off gleam of the true nature of Nature's God. His glance fell to the changing landscape below; his arms were extended as if in benediction; and his lips moved in a low and passionate farewell to his native land. Then he turned.

The fire burned low on the altar.

"Sacred symbol, whose beams have no power to warm my chilled heart, I bid you a long farewell! They will say that Yusuf is faithless, a false priest. They will mayhap follow him to slay him. And they will bow again to yon image, and defile thine altars again with infants' blood, not discerning the true God. Yet he must be approachable. I feel it! I know it! O Great Spirit, reveal Thyself unto Yusuf! Reveal Thyself 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 flared 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 rush of falling water warned him that an abyss was near. Dropping on his knees, he crept carefully forward until his hand rested on the jagged edge of a ledge of rock. Beside him the water fell into a yawning gulf. Darkness darker than blackest night was about him, and, in its cover, he cast the robes into the abyss below, then retraced his way, and plunged once more into the moonlight, a Persian traveler wearing the customary loose trousers, a kufiyah on his head, and bearing a long staff in his hand.

CHAPTER II.

A BEDOUIN ENCAMPMENT.

—Longfellow.

Many months after the departure of Yusuf from Persia a solitary rider on a swift dromedary reached the extreme 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 begun to tell upon his iron frame. His eye, accustomed by the fear of robbers to dart its dark glances restlessly, was less keen than usual; his head was drooped downward upon his breast, and his whole attitude betokened bodily fatigue. His camel, too, went less swiftly, and picked its way,[4] with low, plaintive moans, over the rough and precipitous path which led into a wild and weird glen.

It was evening, and the shadows fell in fantastic streaks and blotches across 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 spot.

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 crop a few leaves of the coarse camel-thorn, the only sign of vegetation in the deserted place.

A few trees, however, could be seen in the distance, and he urged his camel towards them in the hope of finding some water, and some dates for food. Reaching 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 fluttered off, cackling loudly as they went. He would fain have had them for food, but their presence seemed like company 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, screaming their wild Arabian jargon, and waving 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 receiving 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 scene. The Bedouin robbers fled precipitately, and Yusuf's first 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 recovered enough to proceed with the party which had rendered him such timely 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 flooded the wady, bringing out every feature of the landscape with remarkable distinctness. At some distance lay a group of tents, black, and pitched in a circle, as the tents of the Bedouins usually are. Camp-fires studded the valley with glints of red; and the barking of dogs and shouts of men arose on the night air above the hoarse moanings of the camels. Yusuf was indeed glad to see evidences of Arab civilization, and to look forward to the prospect of a good supper and a friendly bed.

The return of the party was now noticed by the men of the encampment. A group of horsemen, also armed with long spears tufted with ostrich feathers, left the tents and came riding swiftly and gracefully towards their returning companions.

An explanation of Yusuf's sorrowful plight was given, and he was conducted to the tent of the Sheikh, which was marked by being larger than the rest, and situated in the center of the circle, with a spear placed upright in the ground before the door.

The Sheikh himself received the stranger at the door of his tent. He was a middle-aged man, of tall and commanding appearance, though the scowl habitual to the Bedouins by reason of their constant exposure to the sun, rested upon his face. He wore a kufiyah, or kerchief, of red and yellow on his head, the ends falling on his shoulders behind in a crimson fringe. His hair was black and greased, and his eyes, though piercing, were not unkindly. His person was thin and muscular, but he wore gracefully the long abba or outer cloak, white and embroidered, which opened in[5] front, disclosing an undergarment of figured muslin, bound by a crimson sash. And there was native grace in every movement when he came courteously forward and saluted Yusuf with the "Peace be with you" of the Arabs. He then extended his hand to help the traveler to dismount, and led him into the tent.

"Friend," he said, "a long journey and a close acquaintance with death are, methinks, a good preparation for the enjoyment of Bedouin hospitality, which, we sincerely hope, shall not be lacking 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, Aswan! 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 talk later, if it please you."

With little enough reluctance, Yusuf lay down upon the pile of rugs and cushions, and, while the attendants bathed his brow, looked somewhat curiously about him.

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 occasionally twitched aside far enough to reveal a pair of black eyes, and, from the softness[6] of the voices which sounded from time to time behind the folds, he surmised correctly that this apartment belonged to the chief's women.

Several men entered the tent, all swarthy, lithe and sinewy, with the 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 conversation, giving himself up to what seemed to him, after his adventures, perfect rest.

Presently the chief's wife entered. She was unveiled, and her features were distinctly Hebrew; for Lois, wife of the Bedouin Musa, had been born a Jewess. She was dressed in a flowing robe of black confined by a crimson girdle. 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 profusely 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 table, and Musa, after sipping a little coffee, handed the cup to him; the chief then picked out the 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, bird-like movements attracted Yusuf's attention early in the evening. His round black eyes darted into every place and upon every one with an insatiable curiosity, and he talked almost incessantly. He was a Jewish peddler who traded small wares with the Arabs, and who was constantly somewhere on the road between Syria and Yemen, being liable to appear suddenly at the most mysterious times, and in the most unlikely places.

In his way, Abraham of Joppa was a character, and one may be pardoned for bestowing more than a passing glance upon him. Though permitted to eat at the table with the rest, it was evident that the Arabs looked upon him with some contempt. They enjoyed listening to his stories, and to his recital of the news which he picked up in his travels, but they despised his inquisitiveness, and resented the impertinence with which he coolly addressed himself even to the Sheikh, before whom all were more or less reserved.

The Persian was, for the present, the chief object of the little Jew's curiosity, and as soon as the meal was over he hastened to form his acquaintance.

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.

"Whither?"

"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 running, and bowing, and kissing a bit of stone in the wall as though 'twere the dearest friend on earth!"

"But they worship—"

"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 heat 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 divine truth."

"You cannot be going to Mecca as a pil[7]grim?" hazarded the little man. "The Magians and the Sabæans worship the stars, do they not?"

"Alas, yes!" said the priest. "They have fallen away from the ancient belief. They worship even the stars themselves, and have set up images to them, no longer perceiving the Great Invisible, the Infinite, who can be approached only through the mediation of the spirits who inhabit the starry orbs."

"Methinks you will find little better in Mecca. What are you going there for?" asked the Jew abruptly.

"I seek Truth," replied the priest quietly.