will you return with me?" She then takes some gold pieces in her
hand, and lowering her voice: "May be you need some money; take,
take these." Dear old Im-Hanna, I would not refuse her favour,
and I would not accept one such. What was I to do? Coming
through the Jewellers' bazaar I hit upon an idea, and with the
money she slipped into my pocket, I bought a gold watch in one
of the stores and charged her to present it to her grandson.
"Say it is from his brother, your other grandson Khalid." She
protests, scolds, and finally takes the watch, saying, "Well,
nothing is changed in you: still the same crazy Khalid."

To-morrow she is coming to see my room, and to cook for me a
dish of _mojadderah_! Ah, the old days in the cellar!

In the thirtieth Letter, one of considerable length, dated March, is
an exceedingly titillating divagation on the _gulma_ (oustraation of
animals), called forth, we are told, "by the rut of the d----d cats in
the yard." Poor Khalid can not sleep. One night he jumps out of bed
and chases them away with his skillet, saying, "Why don't I make such
a row, ye wantons?" They come again the following night, and Khalid on
the following morning moves to a Hotel which, by good or ill chance,
is adjacent to the lupanars of the city. His window opens on another
yard in which other cats, alas!--of the human species this time--are
caterwauling, harrowing the soul of him and the night. He makes a
second remove, but finds himself disturbed this time by the rut of a
certain roebuck within. Nature, O Khalid, will not be cheated, no more
than she will be abused, without retaliating soon or late. True, you
got out of many ruts heretofore; but this you can not get out of
except you go deeper into it. Your anecdotes from Ad-Damiry and your
quotations from Montaigne shall not help you. And your allusions to
March-cats and March-Khalids are too pitiful to be humorous. Indeed,
were not the tang of lubricity in this Letter too strong, we would
have given in full the confession it contains.

We now come to the last of this Series, in which Khalid speaks of a
certain American lady, a Mrs. Goodfree, or Gotfry, who is a votary of
Ebbas Effendi, the Pope of Babism at Heifa. Mrs. Gotfry may not be a
Babist in the strict sense of the word; but she is a votary and
worshipper of the Bab. To her the personal element in a creed is of
more importance than the ism. Hence, her pilgrimage every year to
Heifa. She