In the life of Bāhram Gor, the poet prince, his seven wives are represented as competing with each other for the royal favor by weaving various romances for his amusement. But amidst all the literary rubbish which is thus formulated for the public eye, there is an occasional gem which is well worthy of preservation. One of these is an affecting story of fraternal love which was written by Assar, an author of much ability, although the Persian chronicles have preserved but little concerning his life. The story of Meher and Mūshteri is considered the masterpiece of Persian romance, and as it is deservedly a favorite with the literati of the East, we give a brief outline of the story, which in the original fills a superb manuscript of four hundred and thirty-four pages. It is transcribed in beautiful Nastaalik characters, within lines of red, blue, and gold, on paper which is richly powdered with gold. The double title page is also richly ornamented, and the heads of the chapters are illuminated in four colors, while the text is illustrated with miniature paintings.[286] The plot, the characters and the incidents are of Persian origin; the author has chosen, however, to tell the story in simpler form and briefer phrase than any Persian writer would present it. THE TWO COMRADES. Far from the dangerous boundaries, which were repeatedly crossed and recrossed by invading kings, stood the beautiful city of Persepolis. Amidst the mountains of Persia, the foundations of her palaces were laid upon the solid rock, and the gray marble pillars reached upward to hold cornice and roof above the gilded galleries. Within were tesselated floors, and fountains whose silvery spray was perfumed with the costly odors of the East. The walls were hung with pictured annals of earlier thrones, and draped with the richest tapestries of Persian looms, while silver urns gleamed here and there, bearing fragrant fires fed with costly sandal wood, or the spicy rods from more distant lands. Beside this marble city there flowed the river Pulwār. Springing from the dark mountains in the distance, it came down to water the gardens of kings; the sunlight tinted its waves with gold, the blossoms opened their velvet hearts upon its banks, and rich odors were wafted from clusters of pink and purple. The gray mountains stood like guardian kings above the capital city, wearing crowns of snow and the heavy forest grew around their feet. Here were gathered the treasures of Persia, the crown jewels, and the imperial regalia, besides other wealth in goodly store; but the conquering troops of Alexander marched upon the mountain city, her store-houses were plundered, her palaces were destroyed, and her people massacred by the ruthless invader.