near with "a sound as of a hidden brook in the leafy month of June";
this, the exquisite languor of the East, "for which the speech of
England has no name," the "Kaif" of the Arab, the drowsy falseness of
the Lotos-eaters' ideal:

"Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labor be?
Let us alone."

And so the months went by, until at last a band of emissaries, to the
number of seventy, was appointed to take a journey to Mecca for the
purpose of meeting with Mohammed and discussing with him the
advisability of his taking up his residence at Medina.

A herald brought news of this embassy to the prophet. He went forth to
meet them, and Yusuf, hearing by chance of the appointed conference, set
out posthaste after Mohammed's party, eager to get even a pressure of
the hand from Amzi, his heart's brother, who he felt sure would
accompany the emissaries. In order to overtake them more quickly, he
proceeded with a trusty guide by a shorter route across the hills.

The night was exceptionally dark, and even the guide became confused.
The way led on and on between the interminable hills, until the two in
complete uncertainty reined their steeds on the verge of a cliff that
seemed to overhang a deep and narrow basin, bounded by flinty rock which
even in the darkness loomed doubly black, and which rang beneath the
horses' feet with that peculiar, metallic sound that proclaimed it black
basalt, the "hell-stone" of the Arabs.

It was indeed an eerie spot. A thick fringe of thorny shrubs grew along