hints, which streamed from His pen; the allusions
which, in private converse and public discourse, He made to the
approaching hour; the exaltation which in moments of joy and sadness alike
flooded His soul; the ecstasy which filled His lovers, already enraptured
by the multiplying evidences of His rising greatness and glory; the
perceptible change noted in His demeanor; and finally, His adoption of the
taj (tall felt head-dress), on the day of His departure from His Most Holy
House--all proclaimed unmistakably His imminent assumption of the prophetic
office and of His open leadership of the community of the Bab's followers.

"Many a night," writes Nabil, depicting the tumult that had seized the
hearts of Baha'u'llah's companions, in the days prior to the declaration
of His mission, "would Mirza Aqa Jan gather them together in his room,
close the door, light numerous camphorated candles, and chant aloud to
them the newly revealed odes and Tablets in his possession. Wholly
oblivious of this contingent world, completely immersed in the realms of
the spirit, forgetful of the necessity for food, sleep or drink, they
would suddenly discover that night had become day, and that the sun was
approaching its zenith."

Of the exact circumstances attending that epoch-making Declaration we,
alas, are but scantily informed. The words Baha'u'llah actually uttered on
that occasion, the manner of His Declaration, the reaction it produced,
its impact on Mirza Yahya, the identity of those who were privileged to
hear Him, are shrouded in an obscurity which future historians will find
it difficult to penetrate. The fragmentary description left to posterity
by His chronicler Nabil is one of the very few authentic records we
possess of the memorable days He spent in that garden. "Every day," Nabil
has related, "ere the hour of dawn, the gardeners would pick the roses
which lined the four avenues of the garden, and would pile them in the
center of the floor of His blessed tent. So great would be the heap that
when His companions gathered to drink their morning tea in His presence,
they would be unable to see each other across it. All these roses
Baha'u'llah would, with His own hands, entrust to those whom He dismissed
from His presence every morning to be delivered, on His behalf, to His
Arab and Persian friends in the city." "One night," he continues, "the
ninth night of the waxing moon, I happened to be one of those who watched
beside His ble