the home city, town, or village of every reader of this book,
just
as he would use the name of it if delivering the lecture there,
instead of doing it through the pages which follow.


WHEN going down the Tigris and Euphrates
rivers many years ago with a party of
English travelers I found myself under the direction
of an old Arab guide whom we hired up at
Bagdad, and I have often thought how that guide
resembled our barbers in certain mental
characteristics. He thought that it was not only his
duty to guide us down those rivers, and do what he
was paid for doing, but also to entertain us with
stories curious and weird, ancient and modern,
strange and familiar. Many of them I have forgotten,
and I am glad I have, but there is one I
shall never forget.

The old guide was leading my camel by its
halter along the banks of those ancient rivers, and
he told me story after story until I grew weary
of his story-telling and ceased to listen. I have
never been irritated with that guide when he
lost his temper as I ceased listening. But I
remember that he took off his Turkish cap and
swung it in a circle to get my attention. I could
see it through the corner of my eye, but I determined
not to look straight at him for fear he would