e a man," it said, "I would never venture into the desert. He is
truly brave who ventures here without having roots reaching down to the
inexhaustible water-veins. There can be danger even for palms, even for
such a palm as I. Could I advise them, I would beg them to return. Their
enemies could never be as cruel to them as the desert. They think perhaps
that it is easy to live in the desert. But I know that even I at times
have had difficulty in keeping alive. I remember once in my youth when a
whirlwind threw a whole mountain of sand over me I was nearly choking. If
I _could_ die I should have died then."

The palm continued to think aloud, as lonely old people do.

"I hear a wonderful melodious murmur passing through my crown," it said;
"all the fronds of my leaves must be moving. I do not know why the sight
of these poor strangers moves me so. But this sorrowful woman is so
beautiful! It reminds me of the most wonderful thing that ever happened to
me."

And whilst its leaves continued their melodious rustle the palm remembered
how once, long, long ago, a glorious human being had visited the oasis. It
was the Queen of Sheba, accompanied by the wise King Solomon. The
beautiful Queen was on her way back to her own country; the King had
accompanied her part of the way, and now they were about to part. "In
memory of this moment," said the Queen, "I now plant a date-kernel in the
earth; and I ordain that from it shall grow a palm which shall live and
grow until a King is born in Judaea greater than Solomon." And as she said
this she placed the kernel in the ground, and her tears watered it.

"How can it be that I should just happen to think of this to-day?" said
the palm. "Can it be possible that this woman is so beautiful that she
reminds me of the most beautiful of all queens, of her at whose bidding I
have lived and grown to this very day? I hear my leaves rustling stronger
and stronger," said the palm, "and it sounds sorrowful, like a death-song.
It is as if they prophesied that someone should soon pass away. It is well
to know that it is not meant for me, inasmuch that I cannot die."

The palm thought that the death-song in its leaves must be for the two
lonely wanderers. They themselves surely thought that their last hour was
drawing near. One could read it in their faces when they walked past one
of the skeletons of the camels that lay by the roadside. One saw it from
the glances with which they watched a couple