s, or to a dwarf shaped as he was like we did in Egypt, and I could
not answer him.

"The truth is, Brother," he said, for so he called me now, "that all
peoples in the world do not offer petitions to what they see and have
been taught to revere, but to something beyond of which to them it is
a sign. But why the Ethiopians should have chosen a grasshopper as a
symbol of God who is everywhere, is more than I can tell. Still they
have done so for thousands of years."

When I came to my mother's bedside she was wandering and I saw that she
could not live long. In a little while, however, her mind cleared so
that she knew me and tears of joy ran down her pale cheeks because I had
returned before she died. She reminded me that she had always said that
she would find a grave in Ethiopia, and asked to be buried and not kept
above ground in crystal, as was the custom there. Then she said that she
had been dreaming of my father and of me; also that she did not think
that I need fret myself overmuch about Amada, since she was sure that
before long I should kiss her on the lips.

I asked if she meant that I should marry her and that we should be happy
and fortunate. She replied that she supposed that I should marry her,
but of the rest would say nothing. Indeed her face grew troubled, as
though some thought hurt her, and leaving the matter of Amada she bade
Karema bring me the rose-hued pearls, blessed me, prayed for our reunion
in the halls of Osiris, and straightway died.

So I caused her to be embalmed after the Egyptian fashion and enclosed
in a coffin of crystal with a scarab on her heart that Karema had
discovered somewhere in the city, for always she was searching for
things that reminded her of Egypt, whereof many were to be found brought
from time to time by travellers or strangers. Then with such ceremony
as we could without the services of the priests of Osiris, Karema and I
buried her in a tomb that Bes had caused to be made near to the steps of
the temple of the Grasshopper, while Bes and his nobles watched from a
distance.

And so farewell to my beloved mother, the lady Tiu.

After she was gone I grew very sad and lonely. While she lived I had a
home, but now I was an exile, a stranger in a strange land with no one
of my own people to talk to except Karema, with whom, as there were
gossips even in Ethiopia, I thought it well not to talk too much. There
was Bes it was true, but now he was a great king and th