model of the Arab grown to
immense proportions.

Almost at the same moment, the gates, ornamented with beaten gold,
opened from within and the Arab stood before them. Ibrahim bent low
his head.

The Arab addressed the merchant.

"Have I fulfilled my promise and earned my freedom?" he asked.

"Verily thou hast," answered the merchant.

"Then farewell, and may blessings rest on thee and the good Ibrahim
and on all your works."

Thus spoke the Arab, raising his hands in benediction. Then he
disappeared within the golden doors.

The jeweler and Ibrahim followed quickly, but though they hastened
through the halls and corridors of many colored marbles, in and out of
rooms lighted by windows of clearest crystal, and up and down
staircases of burnished metal, they could find no one. Emerging into
the open again, they saw a huge crowd standing in wonderment before
the gates.

"Tell me," said the jeweler, "who was the builder of this magic
palace."

"Elijah, the Prophet," said Ibrahim, "the benefactor of mankind, who
revisits the earth to assist in their distress those deemed worthy.
Blessed am I, and blessed art thou for thy good deeds, for we have
been truly honored."

To show his gratitude, the merchant gave a banquet in his palace to
all the people in the city and scattered gold and silver pieces among
the crowds that thronged the streets.

The Sleep of One Hundred Years

It was at the time of the destruction of the First Temple. The cruel
war had laid Jerusalem desolate, and terrible was the suffering of the
people.

Rabbi Onias, mounted on a camel, was sorrowfully making his way toward
the unhappy city. He had traveled many days and was weary from lack of
sleep and faint with hunger, yet he would not touch the basket of
dates he had with him, nor would he drink from the water in a leather
bottle attached to the saddle.

"Perchance," he said, "I shall meet some one who needs them more than
I."

But everywhere the land was deserted. One day, nearing the end of the
journey, he saw a man planting a carob tree at the foot of a hill.

"The Chaldeans," said the man, "have destroyed my beautiful vineyards
and all my crops, but I must sow and plant anew, so that the land may
live again."

[Illustration: The sun was shining on a noble city of pinnacles
and minarets. (_P. 191_).]

Onias passed sorrowfully on and at the top of the hill he stopped.
Before him lay Jerusalem, not the once beautiful