grates to
America. But that is to come.

Let us now turn our "stereopticon on the screen of reminiscence,"
using the pictures furnished by Shakib. But before they can be used to
advantage, they must undergo a process of retroussage. Many of the
lines need be softened, some of the shades modified, and not a few of
the etchings, absolutely worthless, we consign to the flames. Who of
us, for instance, was not feruled and bastinadoed by the town
pedagogue? Who did not run away from school, whimpering, snivelling,
and cursing in his heart and in his sleep the black-board and the
horn-book? Nor can we see the significance of the fact that Khalid
once smashed the icon of the Holy Virgin for whetting not his wits,
for hearing not his prayers. It may be he was learning then the use of
the sling, and instead of killing his neighbour's laying-hen, he broke
the sacred effigy. No, we are not warranted to draw from these
trivialities the grand results which send Shakib in ecstasies about
his Master's genius. Nor do we for a moment believe that the
waywardness of a genius or a prophet in boyhood is always a
significant adumbration. Shakespeare started as a deer-poacher, and
Rousseau as a thief. Yet, neither the one nor the other, as far as we
know, was a plagiarist. This, however, does not disprove the contrary
proposition, that he who begins as a thief or an iconoclast is likely
to end as such. But the actuating motive has nothing to do with what
we, in our retrospective analysis, are pleased to prove. Not so far
forth are we willing to piddle among the knicknacks of Shakib's
_Histoire Intime_ of his Master.

Furthermore, how can we interest ourselves in his fiction of history
concerning Baalbek? What have we to do with the fact or fable that
Seth the Prophet lived in this City; that Noah is buried in its
vicinity; that Solomon built the Temple of the Sun for the Queen of
Sheba; that this Prince and Poet used to lunch in Baalbek and dine at
Istachre in Afghanistan; that the chariot of Nimrod drawn by four
phoenixes from the Tower of Babel, lighted on Mt. Hermon to give said
Nimrod a chance to rebuild the said Temple of the Sun? How can we
bring any of these fascinating fables to bear upon our subject? It is
nevertheless significant to remark that the City of Baal, from the
Phoenicians and Moabites down to the Arabs and Turks, has ever been
noted for its sanctuaries of carnal lust. The higher religion, too,
found good soil here; fo