ing to leave this dusty and bewildering
world. Farewell, Sheikh Sanaan, farewell! I can say no more; pardon me
and oppose me not." So saying, her soul left the body; the drop returned
to the ocean.

Other anecdotes which occur in the Mantiq-ut-tair are the following:--

THE ANGEL GABRIEL AND THE INFIDEL.

One night Gabriel was near the Throne, when he heard Allah pronouncing
words of acquiescence in answer to someone's prayer. "A servant of God,"
said Gabriel to himself, "is invoking the Eternal just now; but who is
he? All that I can understand is that he must be a saint of surpassing
merit, whose spirit has entirely subdued his flesh. Gabriel wished to
know who the happy mortal was, but though he flew over lands and seas,
he did not find him. He hastened to return to the proximity of the
Throne and heard again the same answer given to the same prayers. In his
anxiety to know the suppliant, he again sought for him throughout the
world, but in vain. Then he cried, "O God, show me the way that conducts
to his dwelling." "Go," was the answer, "to the country of Roum; enter a
certain Christian convent, and thou shalt find him." Gabriel hastened
thither, and saw the man who was the object of the divine favour; at
that very moment he was adoring an idol. Then Gabriel said to God, "O
Master of the world, reveal to me this secret; How canst Thou hear with
kindness him who prays to an idol in a convent?" God answered him, "A
veil is upon his heart; he knows not that he is astray. Since he has
erred through ignorance, I pardon him, and grant him access to the
highest rank of saints."

THE CLAY OF WHICH MAN IS MADE.

One day the Prophet drank of a stream and found its taste more sweet
than rose-water. As he was sitting by the stream, someone came and
filled his clay pitcher from it, and the Prophet drank out of that also.
To his amazement, he found the water bitter. "O God," he said, "the
water of the stream and the water in the pitcher are one; disclose to me
the secret of the difference in their taste. Why is the water in the
pitcher bitter, and the other sweet as honey?" From the pitcher itself
came the answer. "I am old; the clay of which I am made has been worked
over and over again into a thousand shapes. But in every shape I am
impregnated with the bitter savour of mortality. It exists in me in such
a way that the water which I hold cannot be sweet."

THE DEAD CRIMINAL.

A poor criminal died, and as they were