brother's hard heart; her kindness and gentleness bring beauty into the
night of my blind old age, and her sweet earnestness and gravity have
changed your sister Atossa from an unruly child into a gentle maiden. But
now call them, (they are playing in the garden), and we will tell them of
the new friend they are to gain through you."

"Pardon me, my mother," answered Bartja, "but I must beg you not to tell
my sister until we are sure of the king's consent."

"You are right, my son. We must conceal your wish, to save Nitetis and
Atossa from a possible disappointment. A bright hope unfulfilled is
harder to bear than an unexpected sorrow. So let us wait for your
brother's consent, and may the gods give their blessing!" Early in the
morning of the king's birthday the Persians offered their sacrifices on
the shores of the Euphrates. A huge altar of silver had been raised on an
artificial hill. On this a mighty fire had been kindled, from which
flames and sweet odors rose towards heaven. White-robed magi fed the fire
with pieces of daintily-cut sandal-wood, and stirred it with bundles of
rods.

A cloth, the Paiti-dhana, was bound round the heads of the priests, the
ends of which covered the mouth, and thus preserved the pure fire from
pollution by human breath.

[The Persians were ordered to hold this little square piece of cloth
before their mouths when they prayed. It was from 2 to 7 fingers
broad. Anquetil gives a drawing of it in his Zend-Avesia. Strabo
speaks of the Paiti-dhana p. 733. He says the ends of the cloth
used as a covering for the head hung down over the mouth.]

The victims had been slaughtered in a meadow near the river, the flesh
cut into pieces, sprinkled with salt, and laid out on tender grasses,
sprouts of clover, myrtle-blossoms, and laurel-leaves, that the beautiful
daughter of Ormuzd, the patient, sacred Earth, might not be touched by
aught that was dead or bleeding.

Oropastes, the chief Destur,--[Priest]--now drew near the fire and cast
fresh butter into it. The flames leapt up into the air and all the
Persians fell on their knees and hid their faces, in the belief that the
fire was now ascending to their great god and father. The Magian then
took a mortar, laid some leaves and stalks of the sacred herb Haomas
within it, crushed them and poured the ruddy juice, the food of the gods,
into the flames.

After this he raised his hands to heaven, and, while the other priests
contin