“Then, you are not a Christian?”
“I am a Christian, too.”
And he relates of the Baha when he was on trial in Rhodes.
“Of what religion are you,” asks the Judge. “I am neither a Camel-driver nor a Carpenter,” replies the Baha, alluding thereby to Mohammad and Christ. “If you ask me the same question,” Khalid continues—“but I see you are uncomfortable.”
And he takes up the cushion which had fallen behind the divan, and places it under her arm. He then lights a cigarette and holds it up to her inquiringly. Yes? He, therefore, lights another for himself, and continues.
“If you ask me the same question that was asked the Baha, I would not hesitate in saying that I am both a Camel-driver and Carpenter. I might also be a Bahaist in a certain sense. I renounce falsehood, whatsoever be the guise it assumes; and I embrace truth, wheresoever I find it. Indeed, every religion is good and true, if it serves the high purpose of its founder. And they are false, all of them, when they serve the low purpose of their high priests. > > Take the lowest of the Arab tribes, for instance, and you will find in their truculent spirit a strain of faith sublime, though it is only evinced at times. The Bedouins, rovers and raveners, manslayers and thieves, are in their house of moe-hair the kindest hosts, the noblest and most generous of men. They receive the wayfarer, though he be an enemy, and he eats and drinks and sleeps with them under the same root, in the assurance of Allah. If a religion makes a savage so good, so kind, it has well