, and this he
was unable to detect in anyone, whether Gnostic or philosopher, or member
of the _Sh_ay_kh_i sect. All he could see in the dervishes was their
tufted beards, and their palms-up religion of beggary. They were
"dervish"--poor in all save God--in name only; all they cared about, it
seemed to him, was whatever came to hand. Nor did he find illumination
among the Illuminati; he heard nothing from them but idle argument. He
observed that their grandiloquence was not eloquence and that their
subtleties were but windy figures of speech. Truth was not there; the core
of inner meaning was absent. For true philosophy is that which produces
rewards of excellence, and among these learned men there was no such fruit
to be found; at the peak of their accomplishment, they became the slaves
of vice, led an unconcerned life and were given over to personal
characteristics that were deserving of blame. To him, of all that
constitutes the high, distinguishing quality of humankind, they were
devoid.

As for the _Sh_ay_kh_i group, their essence was gone, only the dregs
remained; the kernel of them had vanished, leaving the shell behind; most
of their dialectics was lumber and superfluities by now.

Thus at the very moment when he heard the call from the Kingdom of God, he
shouted, "Yea, verily!" and he was off like the desert wind. He traveled
over vast distances, arrived at the Most Great Prison and attained the
presence of Baha'u'llah. When his eyes fell upon that bright Countenance
he was instantly enslaved. He returned to Persia so that he could meet
with those people who professed to be following the Path, those friends of
other days who were seeking out the Truth, and deal with them as his
loyalty and duty required.

Both going and returning, the Haji betook himself to each one of his
friends, foregathered with them, and let each one hear the new song from
Heaven. He reached his homeland and set his family's affairs in order,
providing for all, seeing to the security, happiness and comfort of each
one. After that he bade them all goodby. To his relatives, his wife,
children, kin, he said: "Do not look for me again; do not wait for my
return."

He took up a staff and wandered away; over the mountains he went, across
the plains, seeking and finding the mystics, his friends. On his first
journey, he went to the late Mirza Yusuf _Kh_an (Mustawfiyu'l-Mamalik), in
Tihran. When he had said his say, Yusuf _Kh_an expressed a wi