not in his boyhood tell his dreams to his mother, who would turn them in her interpretation inside out?
But Khalid, we are assured, continued to cherish the belief, even in his riper days, that when you dream you are in Jannat, for instance, you must be prepared to go through Jahannam the following day. A method of interpretation as ancient as Joseph, to be sure.
But we quote the dream to show that Khalid should not have followed the setting sun. He should have turned his face toward the desert.
They slept on deck that night. They drank the wine of the Jesuits, repeated, to the mellow strains of the lute, the song of the bulbuls, intoned the verses of al-Mutanabbi, and, wrapping themselves in their rugs, fell asleep.
But in the morning they were rudely jostled from their dreams by a spurt from the hose of the sailors washing the deck. Complaining not, they straggle down to their bunks to change their clothes.
And Khalid, as he is doing this, implores Shakib not to mention to him any more that New-World paradise.
“For I have dreamt last night,” he continues, “that, in the multicoloured robes of an Arab amir, on a caparisoned dromedary, at the head of an immense multitude of people, I was riding through the desert. Whereto and wherefrom, I know not. But those who followed me seemed to know; for they cried, ‘Long have we waited for thee, now we shall enter in peace.’ And at every oasis we passed, the people came to the gate to meet us, and, prostrating themselves before me, kissed the fringe of my garment. Even the women would touch my boots and kiss their hands, exclaiming, ‘Allahu akbar!’ And the