Alfarabi was returning from a pilgrimage to Mecca, when, passing through Syria, he stopped at the Court of the Sultan, and entered his presence while he was surrounded by numerous sage persons, who were discoursing with the monarch on the sciences. Alfarabi, ignorant of, or else wholly ignoring, the usages of society, presented himself in his travelling attire; and when the Sultan desired that he should be seated, with astonishing philosophical freedom, he planted himself at the end of the royal sofa. The prince, aghast at his boldness, called one of his officers, and in a tongue generally unknown commanded him to eject the intruder. The philosopher, however, promptly made answer in the same tongue: “Oh, Lord, he who acts hastily is liable to hasty repentance!” The prince was equally astounded to find himself understood by the stranger as by the manner in which the reply was given. Anxious to know more of his guest, he began to question him, and soon discovered that he was acquainted with seventy languages. Problems for discussion were then propounded to the philosophers who had witnessed the discourteous intrusion with considerable indignation and disgust, but Alfarabi disputed with so much eloquence and vivacity that he reduced all the doctors to silence, and they began writing down his discourse. The Sultan then ordered his musicians to perform for the diversion of the company. When they struck up, the philosopher accompanied them on a lute with such infinite grace and tenderness, that he elicited the unmeasured admiration of the whole distinguished assembly. At the request of the Sultan he produced a piece of his own composing, sung it, and accompanied it with great force and spirit to the delight of all his hearers. The air was so sprightly that even the gravest philosopher could not resist dancing, but by another tune he as easily melted them to tears, and then by a soft unobtrusive melody he lulled the whole company to sleep. Great was the anxiety of the Sultan to retain so accomplished a person about him, and some say that he succeeded, others that the philosopher declined the most brilliant offers, declaring that he should never rest till he had discovered the whole secret of the philosopher’s stone of which he had been in search for years, and to which, from his discourse, he appeared to be on the point of attaining. According to these biographers, he set out, but it was to perish miserably. He was attacked by robbers in the woods of Syria, and, in spite of his courage, was overpowered by numbers and killed. This occurred in the year 954. Others say that he died at Damas, enjoying the munificence of the Sultan to the last. AVICENNA.