zi sighed. "Yusuf," he said, "it appears all dark, impenetrable, to
me. A wall of adamant seems to stand between me and God. Pray for me,
friend. In this matter I fear I am heartless."

In spite of this assertion, there was genuine concern in the tone, and
the priest's face flushed in the glad light of hope.

"Amzi," he exclaimed, "my hope for you increases. Even now, you begin to
realize your own self: it remains for you to realize God's self. Know
God--would I could burn that upon your heart! All else would be made
plain."

Amzi sighed again. For a time he sat in silence, then he said:

"I have been reading of the tabernacle, and of the sacrifices therein."

"Typical of the death of Christ," returned Yusuf. "A constant emblem of
that mind which was, and is to-day, ready to suffer, that we may
understand its infinite love."

"Strange, strange!" said Amzi, musingly. Then after a long silence:
"Yusuf, have you ever noted the resemblance of the Caaba to the reputed
appearance of the tabernacle?"

"The resemblance struck me from the first glance--the courtyard, the
temple itself, and the curtain (or 'Kiswah') corresponding to the veil
of the tabernacle. This same Caaba may trace its origin in some dim way
to the ancient tabernacle, of which, in this land, the significance must
have become lost in the centuries during which the Ishmaelitish race
forgot the true worship of God."

"And what think you of the course which affairs are now taking in
Arabia?" asked Amzi. "You believe in the supervision of God; why, then,
does he permit such outbreaks as the present one is proving to be?"

"I certainly believe that the Creator sees and knows all things. I
believe, too, that even to Mohammed, at one time in his life, the Holy
Spirit appealed, as he did to me, and, I hope, does now to you,
Amzi,--for his pleadings come sometime to all men; but, I think that if
in earnest at first, Mohammed--if, indeed, he be not a monomaniac on the
subject of his divine calling--has given himself up to the wild
indulgence of his ambition, forgetting Him whose power is able to direct
us all aright. Hence, he guides himself, rather than seeks to be guided,
and, in such a case, he may sometimes be allowed to go on in his own
way, bearing with him those who are so foolish as to accept his
teaching. Something of this kind may, indeed, be one of the secrets of
the crimes and calamities which enter into many human lives. God leaves
us free to choo