Heavy rain had begun to fall, and I was walking with difficulty in the mire. I noticed that the Shaykh’s shoes and clothes were perfectly dry. On my pointing this out to him, he said: “Yes; God has preserved me from mud ever since I put unquestioning trust in Him and guarded my interior from the desolation of cupidity.” Once an experience occurred to me which I could not unravel. I set out to visit Shaykh Abu `l-Qásim Gurgání at Ṭús. I found him alone in his chamber in the mosque, and he was expounding precisely the same difficulty to a pillar, so that I was answered without having asked the question. “O Shaykh,” I cried, “to whom art thou saying this?” He replied: “O son, God just now caused this pillar to speak and ask me this question.” In Farghána, at a village called Ashlátak,[124] there was an old man, one of the _Awtád_ of the earth. His name was Báb `Umar[125]—all the dervishes in that country give the title of Báb to their great Shaykhs—and he had an old wife called Fáṭima. I went from Uzkand to see him. When I entered his presence he said: “Why have you come?” I replied: “In order that I might see the Shaykh in person and that he might look on me with kindness.” He said: “I have been seeing you continually since such and such a day, and I wish to see you as long as you are not removed from my sight.” I computed the day and year: it was the very day on which my conversion began. The Shaykh said: “To traverse distance (_sipardan-i masáfat_) is child’s play: henceforth pay visits by means of thought (_himmat_); it is not worth while to visit any person (_shakhṣ_), and there is no virtue in bodily presence (_ḥuḍúr-i ashbáḥ_).” Then he bade Fáṭima bring something to eat. She brought a dish of new grapes, although it was not the season for them, and some fresh ripe dates, which cannot possibly be procured in Farghána. On another occasion, while I was sitting alone, as is my custom, beside the tomb of Shaykh Abú Sa`íd at Mihna, I saw a white pigeon fly under the cloth (_fúṭa_) covering the sepulchre. I supposed that the bird had escaped from its owner, but when I looked under the cloth nothing was to be seen. This happened again next day, and also on the third day. I was at a loss to understand it, until one night I dreamed of the saint and asked him about my experience. He answered: “That pigeon is my good conduct (_ṣafá-yi mu`ámalat_), which comes every day to my tomb to feast with me (_ba-munádamat-i man_).”[126] I might adduce many more of these tales without exhausting them, but my purpose in this book is to establish the principles of Ṣúfiism. As regards derivatives and matters of conduct books have been compiled by the traditionists (_naqqálán_), and these topics are disseminated from the pulpit by preachers (_mudhakkirán_). Now I will give, in one or two sections, an adequate account of certain points bearing on the present discussion, in order that I may not have to return to it again. Footnote 122: