and old Egyptian; of Hebrew and Syriac; of Sanskrit and Prakrit;
of Slav, especially Lithuanian; of Latin and Greek, including
Romaic; of Berber, the Nubian dialect, and of Zend and Akkadian,
besides Persian, his mother-tongue, and Arabic, the classic of
the schools. Nor was he ignorant of "the -ologies" and the
triumphs of modern scientific discovery. Briefly, his memory was
well-stored; and he had every talent save that of using his
talents.

But no one thought that he "woo'd the Muse," to speak in the
style of the last century. Even his intimates were ignorant of
the fact that he had a skeleton in his cupboard, his Kasidah or
distichs. He confided to me his secret when we last met in
Western India--I am purposely vague in specifying the place. When
so doing he held in hand the long and hoary honours of his chin
with the points toward me, as if to say with the Island-King:

There is a touch of Winter in my beard,
A sign the Gods will guard me from imprudence.

And yet the piercing eye, clear as an onyx, seemed to protest
against the plea of age. The MS. was in the vilest "Shikastah" or
running-hand; and, as I carried it off, the writer declined to
take the trouble of copying out his cacograph.

We, his old friends, had long addressed Haji Abdu by the
sobriquet of _Nabbiana_ ("our Prophet"); and the reader will see
that the Pilgrim has, or believes he has, a message to deliver.
He evidently aspires to preach a faith of his own; an Eastern
Version of Humanitarianism blended with the sceptical or, as we