a man who lingers by the straight water, where the cypresses stand
over their own image, may see a strange marvel--may see the Palace of
the Taj dissolve like a pearl, and so rise in a mist into the moonlight;
and in its place, on her dais of white marble, he shall see the Lady
Arjemand, Mumtaz-i-Mahal, the Chosen of the Palace, stand there in the
white perfection of beauty, smiling as one who hath attained unto the
Peace. For she is its soul.

And kneeling before the dais, he shall see Ustad Isa, who made this body
of her beauty; and his face is hidden in his hands.

"HOW GREAT IS THE GLORY OF KWANNON!"

A JAPANESE STORY

(O Lovely One-O thou Flower! With Thy beautiful face, with Thy beautiful
eyes, pour light upon the world! Adoration to Kwannon.)

In Japan in the days of the remote Ancestors, near the little village of
Shiobara, the river ran through rocks of a very strange blue colour, and
the bed of the river was also composed of these rocks, so that the clear
water ran blue as turquoise gems to the sea.

The great forests murmured beside it, and through their swaying boughs
was breathed the song of Eternity. Those who listen may hear if their
ears are open. To others it is but the idle sighing of the wind.

Now because of all this beauty there stood in these forests a roughly
built palace of unbarked wood, and here the great Emperor would come
from City-Royal to seek rest for his doubtful thoughts and the cares of
state, turning aside often to see the moonlight in Shiobara. He sought
also the free air and the sound of falling water, yet dearer to him than
the plucked strings of sho and biwa. For he said;

"Where and how shall We find peace even for a moment, and afford Our
heart refreshment even for a single second?"

And it seemed to him that he found such moments at Shiobara.

Only one of his great nobles would His Majesty bring with him--the
Dainagon, and him be chose because he was a worthy and honorable person
and very simple of heart.

There was yet another reason why the Son of Heaven inclined to the
little Shiobara. It had reached the Emperor that a Recluse of the
utmost sanctity dwelt in that forest. His name was Semimaru. He had made
himself a small hut in the deep woods, much as a decrepit silkworm might
spin his last Cocoon and there had the Peace found him.

It had also reached His Majesty that, although blind, he was exceedingly
skilled in the art of playing the biwa, both in th