palace he saw that it was splendidly lighted up, and he heard
music. "Ah," he said, with anxious heart, "the caliph is celebrating a
festival to-night; there is no hope of my being admitted, and to-morrow
it will be too late."

His fears were confirmed by the words of the porters, who told him that
the caliph would speak to no one so late, and that he must return the
next day. One of them, however, said: "What can this stranger have to
say to the caliph? Why is he wrapt up in a large cloak, and why does
he come at this hour of the night? Confusion is in his face. Might he
not be a traitor who intends to murder the caliph in a private
interview? I think it will be most advisable to bring him to the cadi
that he may guard him for the night in his house. To-morrow he can be
released again if found innocent."

Several of the others agreed to this proposal, saying: "It is not the
first time that such an attempt has been made against the caliph's
life. The caliph is too noble-minded to have any suspicion; but it is
the duty of his servants to watch over his safety."

The terror of Ali may easily be conceived when one of the guard laid
hands on him to conduct him to Hussain. In his alarm he threw back his
cloak, and cried: "I am Ali the son of Ibrahim! the caliph knows me and
has shown me distinguished favour. I have to communicate things of
importance, and you will incur his highest displeasure if you treat a
peaceful citizen like a base vagabond."

Fortunately for Ali one of the guard knew him; and persuaded the others
to release him, assuring him that it was impossible to speak to the
caliph that night, and that he must return the following day.

Ali, in this state of uncertainty, walked a long time up and down the
street. He had been denied an appeal to his only deliverer; he was
unwilling to return to the house of his incensed father without having
effected his purpose; and from the enraged cadi he had to fear the
worst. Deeply distressed, he sat down on a bench on the banks of the
Tigris.

He had not been there long before he perceived three old dervishes
coming slowly up the street. They saluted him, but he scarcely noticed
it. One of them came up to him and sat down next to him, whilst the
others pursued their way.

"Let it not displease you, sir," said the old man, "that I address you
without knowing you,--but if one has no acquaintance one must try to
make some. We are dervishes, and are coming