his hook, that they might rescue your holy sepulcher from pagan hands.'

"And anything else?' He 'll ask. "And I 've seen a young man go out into the desert, and over his head was a star

"You may think you have failed, child, but remember that in the coming times your name and fame will awaken beauty, and many 's the traveler on the hard road will find his courage again, and he thinking of Marco Polo. And many 's the young man will dream dreams, and many 's the old man will see visions, and they reading the book by the golden candlelight; and many 's the young girl will give you love, and you dead for centuries. But for this you must keep your dream.

"Now you'll think it's the queer pope I am to be telling you things like this instead of demanding converts. But the wisdom that surpasses wisdom comes to you with the Anointing of the Oil. 'I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago,' writes Saint Paul, "(whether in the body I cannot tell, or whether out of the body I cannot tell. God knoweth.)

"How that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words that is not lawful for a man to utter.'

"Now you see there is a wisdom surpassing wisdom, and it is out of this fount of wisdom I am drawing when I speak to you these words.

"Child, I will not keep you any longer. Only to say this, and this is the chiefest thing: never let your dream be taken from you. Keep it unspotted from the world. In darkness and in tribulation it will go with you as a friend; but in wealth and power hold fast to it, for then is dan

ger. Let not the mists of the world, the gay diversions, the little trifles, draw you from glory. Remember!

"Si oblitus fuero tui Jerusalem,— If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,— Oblivioni detur dextera mea,-let my right hand forget her cunning.

Adhaereat lingua mea faucibus meis, si non meminero tui,-if I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth—

Si non proposuero Jersualem, in principis laetitia meae,-if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.

"I shall now send a prayer to Heaven," he said, "to keep you safe

in the strange foreign ways, to protect you against wind and tempest, against pestilence and sudden death, against the powers of dark

ness, and him who goes up and down the world for the ruin of souls."

And he turned to the high altar again, and now you 'd hear his voice loud and powerful, and now low and secret, and the bell struck, and the acolyte intoned the responses, and all of a sudden he turned and spread forth his hands.

"Ite! Let you be going now. Missa

X

And so they went on eastward, ever eastward, and the moons were born, grew, waned, and died

tents on wheels. There passed them the black-jowled, savage idolaters. There passed them the pretty white

faced women. faced women. There passed them huge, abominable dogs.

And they came to the town of Lob, and a new moon arose, and they entered the Desert of the Singing Sands.

XI

the divers bring up jade

from the rivers, white jade and black jade, and green jade veined with gold. They passed through Camal, the shameful city, whose women are fair and wanton, whose

men are cuckolds. And they passed through the province of Chitingolos, where are the mountains of the Salamanders. They passed through the city of Campicha, where there are more idols than men. And they passed through the great city of Samarkand, where the Green Stone is on which Timur's throne was set moons were born and died

And

They passed through Tangut, where the men will not carry the dead out through the door of a house, but must break a hole in the wall. And they passed through Kialehta, where there are snow-white camels. And they passed through the lands of Prester John.

And now they were in the Tatar lands. There passed them lowing musk oxen. There passed them the wild asses of Mongolia. There passed them the barbarians, with their great

bells. And no green thing was seen.

And a great terror fell on the caravan, so that one night a third of the caravan deserted. The rest went on in silence under the dull sun. And now they came across a village of white skeletons grinning in the silent sand. And at night there was nothing heard, not even the barking of a dog. And others of the caravan deserted, and others were lost.

And now they had come so far into the desert that they could not return, but must keep on their way, and on the fifth day they came to the Hill of the Drum. And all through the night they could not sleep for the booming of the Drum. And some of the caravan went mad there, and fled screaming into the waste.

And now there was only a great haze about them, and they looked at one another with terror, saying: "Were we ever any place where green was, where birds sang, or there was sweet water? Or maybe we are dead. Or maybe this was all our life, and the pleasant towns, and the lamplight in the villages, and the apricots in the garden, and our wives and children,

X

And so they went on eastward, ever eastward, and the moons were born, grew, waned, and died

tents on wheels. There passed them the black-jowled, savage idolaters. There passed them the pretty whitefaced women. There passed them huge, abominable dogs.

And they came to the town of Lob, and a new moon arose, and they entered the Desert of the Singing Sands.

ΧΙ

the divers bring up jade

bells. And no green thing was seen.

And a great terror fell on the caravan, so that one night a third of the caravan deserted. The rest went on in silence under the dull sun. And now they came across a village of white skeletons grinning in the silent sand. And at night there was nothing heard, not even the barking of a dog. And others of the caravan deserted, and others were lost.

And now they had come so far into the desert that they could not return, but must keep on their way, and on the fifth day they came to the Hill of the Drum. And all through the night they could not sleep for the booming of the Drum. And some of the caravan went mad there, and fled screaming into the waste.

And now there was only a great haze about them, and they looked at one another with terror, saying: "Were we ever any place where green was, where birds sang, or there was sweet water? Or maybe we are dead. Or maybe this was all our life, and the pleasant towns, and the lamplight in the villages, and the apricots in the garden, and our wives and children,