From the capital of the caliphs, his journey
to Jerusalem was one comparatively easy; but to reach Bagdad he must
encounter hardship and danger, the prospect of which would have
divested any one of hope, who did not conceive himself the object of an
omnipotent and particular Providence.
Clothed only in a coarse black frock, common among the Kourds, girded
round his waist by a cord which held his dagger, his head shaven, and
covered with a large white turban, which screened him from the heat, his
feet protected only by slippers, supported by his staff, and bearing on
his shoulders a bag of dried meat and parched corn, and a leathern skin
of water, behold, toiling over the glowing sands of Persia, a youth
whose life had hitherto been a long unbroken dream of domestic luxury
and innocent indulgence.
He travelled during the warm night or the early starlit morn. During the
day he rested: happy if he could recline by the side of some
charitable well, shaded by a palm-tree, or frighten a gazelle from its
resting-place among the rough bushes of some wild rocks. Were these
resources wanting, he threw himself upon the sand, and made an awning
with his staff and turban.
Three weeks had elapsed since he quitted the cavern of the Cabalist.
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