s he stood in the door; we felt as if he
had struck us in the head with them.

"This is the _Histoire Intime_," said he, laying it gently on the
table.

And we laid our hand upon it, fetching a deep sigh. Our misgivings,
however, were lighted with a happy idea. We will hire a few boys to
read it, we thought, and mark out the passages which please them most.
That will be just what an editor wants.

"And this," continued the Poet, laying down the other bundle, "is the
original manuscript of my forthcoming Book of Poems.--"

Sweet of him, we thought, to present it to us.

"It will be issued next Autumn in Cairo.--"

Fortunate City!

"And if you will get to work on it at once,--"

Mercy!

"You can get out an English Translation in three month, I am sure--"

We sink in our chair in breathless amazement.

"The Book will then appear simultaneously both in London and Cairo."

We sit up, revived with another happy idea, and assure the Poet that
his Work will be translated into a universal language, and that very
soon. For which assurance he kisses us again and again, and goes away
hugging his Muse.

The idea! A Book of Poems to translate into the English language! As
if the English language has not enough of its own troubles! Translate
it, O Fire, into your language! Which work the Fire did in two
minutes. And the dancing, leaping, singing flames, the white and blue
and amber flames, were more beautiful, we thought, than anything the
Ms. might contain.

As for the _Histoire Intime_, we split it into three parts and got our
boys working on it. The result was most satisfying. For now we can
show, and though he is a native of Asia, the land of the Prophets, and
though he conceals from us his origin after the manner of the
Prophets, that he was born and bred and fed, and even thwacked, like
all his fellows there, this Khalid.

CHAPTER II

THE CITY OF BAAL

The City of Baal, or Baalbek, is between the desert and the deep
sea. It lies at the foot of Anti-Libanus, in the sunny plains of
Coele-Syria, a day's march from either Damascus or Beirut. It is a
city with a past as romantic as Rome's, as wicked as Babel's; its
ruins testify both to its glory and its shame. It is a city with a
future as brilliant as any New-World city; the railroad at its
gate, the modern agricultural implements in its fields, and the
porcelain bath-tubs in its hotels, can testify to this. It is a city
that enticed and still entice