through London that she has come, then all the merchants go down to
the river to barter, and all day long the chariots whirl through the
streets, and the sound of their going is a mighty roar all day until
evening, their roar is even like--"

"Not so," said the Sultan.

"Truth is not hidden from the Friend of God," replied the
hasheesh-eater, "I have erred being drunken with the hasheesh, for in
the desiderate city, even in London, so thick upon the ways is the
white sea-sand with which the city glimmers that no sound comes from
the path of the charioteers, but they go softly like a light
sea-wind." ("It is well," said the Sultan.) "They go softly down to
the port where the vessels are, and the merchandise in from the sea,
amongst the wonders that the sailors show, on land by the high ships,
and softly they go though swiftly at evening back to their homes.

"O would that the Munificent, the Illustrious, the Friend of God, had
even seen these things, had seen the jewellers with their empty
baskets, bargaining there by the ships, when the barrels of emeralds
came up from the hold. Or would that he had seen the fountains there
in silver basins in the midst of the ways. I have seen small spires
upon their ebony houses and the spires were all of gold, birds
strutted there upon the copper roofs from golden spire to spire that
have no equal for splendour in all the woods of the world. And over
London the desiderate city the sky is so deep a blue that by this
alone the traveller may know where he has come, and may end his
fortunate journey. Nor yet for any colour of the sky is there too
great heat in London, for along its ways a wind blows always from the
South gently and cools the city.