Little is known of the saint whose tomb is the central shrine of the Yezîdî faith. He is variously reported to have sprung either from the regions near Aleppo, or from the Ḥaurân, and he died in the year A.D. 1162. He was one of a number of illuminators of whom the Sûfî mystic, Manṣûr el Ḥallâj, was another--he who suffered martyrdom for asserting the permeation of all created things by the Deity with the phrase: “I am God.”[166] The Angel Jesus is a third--not the phantom Jesus whose death is recorded in the New Testament, but the spirit whose place that other had usurped;[167] and many of the Jewish prophets are revered in the same manner. There is a tradition that the building which is now Sheikh ’Adî’s tomb was once a Christian church, but though I looked sharply for evidences that might confirm this report, I could not be sure that they existed. It is certain that there were earlier edifices upon the present site, and the building has been so often destroyed and restored that its original form must have been almost obliterated.[168] Round the doorway there are re-used stones covered with the net-like patterns which are to be found in the churches at Ḳaraḳôsh. An Arabic inscription, built into the same wall, bears the date 1115, but this date undoubtedly refers to the Mohammadan era, and the inscription is therefore barely two centuries old. Below it a second representation of a serpent is carved upon the wall, not painted like the one near the doorway, and lying parallel with the ground instead of standing upright. What the black snake signifies I do not know, neither did I ask for an explanation which would not have been accorded. Layard says that the Yezîdîs repeatedly assured him that it was without significance, and I should have been given no other answer.[169] ’Abdullah, who knew as little as I, volunteered the information that a Yezîdî will never kill a black snake, but when I asked whether there were many such reptiles in the hills, he replied that so far as he knew there were none, and his testimony as to the practices of the Yezîdîs when confronted with them did not seem to me to be of much value. Before I left Bâ’adrî I received an invitation to be present at the summer festival. Of the ceremonies performed at this time Layard has left two wonderful descriptions,[170] and if ever I find myself at Môṣul in the height of the summer, I shall not forget ’Alî Beg’s proffer of hospitality. It was near sunset when we reached Bâ’adrî. After night had fallen Sa’îd Beg came to fetch me to his mother’s quarters. We held converse through the Christian secretary, and our talk was mostly of the child who sat beside me smoking one cigarette after another. “In my country children may not smoke,” said I. “Oh Sa’îd Beg, little children like you should be asleep at this hour.” The khâtûn smiled at him tenderly. “We can deny him nothing,” said she.