brain, he could not shape them into utterance. He stared vaguely
at the floor,--it was paved with variegated mosaic and strewn with
the soft, dark, furry skins of wild animals,--at a little distance
from where he sat there was a huge bronze lectern supported by a
sculptured griffin with horns,--horns which curving over at the
top, turned upward again in the form of candelabra,--the harp-
bearer had brought in the harp, and it now stood in a conspicuous
position decked with myrtle, some of the garlands woven by the
maidens being no doubt used for this purpose.

Yet there was something mirage-like and fantastic in the splendor
that everywhere surrounded him,--he felt as though he were one of
the spectators in a vast auditorium where the curtain had just
risen on the first scene of the play He was dubiously considering
in his own perplexed mind, whether such princely living were the
privilege, or right, or custom of poets in general, when Sah-luma
spoke again, waving his hand toward one of the busts near him--a
massive, frowning head, magnificently sculptured.

"There is the glorious Orazel!" he said--"The father, as we all
must own, of the Art of Poesy, and indeed of all true literature!
Yet there be some who swear he never lived at all--aye! though his
poems have come down to us,--and many are the arguments I have had
with so-called wise men like Zabastes, concerning his style and
method of versification. Everything he has written bears the
impress of the same master-touch,--nevertheless garrulous
controversialists hold that his famous work the 'Ruva-Kalama'
descended by oral tradition from mouth to mouth till it came to us
in its 'improved' present condition. 'Improved!'" and Sah-luma
laughed disdainfully,--"As if the mumbling of an epic poem from