Jámí, probably wearied with the continual adulation which he had everywhere received, now retired from public life. At this juncture little is recorded of him, and here we must leave him with one anecdote which will serve to show his ready wit: "You (_i.e._ God) so occupy my whole thoughts and vision, that whatsoever comes into view from afar appears to me to be You." "What," said a sharp contemporary, "if a jackass were to come into view?" "It would appear to me to be _you_!" was Jámí's prompt reply. II. THE STORY OF "SALÁMÁN AND ABSÁL." In this beautiful little allegory, the meaning of which is so obvious that Jámí need not have explained it in his Epilogue, we read of the Shah of Yunan. He was a king ever wisely counselled by a sage who kept the Tower of Wisdom, and might be therefore reasonably supposed to be a fit and able personage to have about the king's person. However, this sage was also a cynic. One day, after the king had poured forth a very beautiful lament on his childless marriage, and had concluded by remarking that a son was "man's prime desire," the keeper of the Tower of Wisdom supplemented his lord's remarks by describing woman as "A foolish, faithless thing," and marriage made miserable by "One little twist of temper." If the sage succeeded in frightening the king with his tirade on earthly marriage, he was certainly not successful in quelling the king's desire for a son. Of course in allegories nothing is impossible, and we are not at all surprised to find that the king's wish was fulfilled by magic! The fond father named his son Salámán and chose Absál for his nurse. Absál seems to have been delighted with her charge: As soon as she had opened eyes on him, She closed those eyes to all the world beside. By this we might well infer that Absál was a most estimable nurse. It so happened, however, that her eyes remained closed to everything else but her charge to such an alarming extent that when Salámán was fourteen years old she revealed herself, with many subtle, Zulaikha-like wiles, as his devoted lover. After the young people had spent a joyous year together, the knowledge of their attachment came to the ears of the king. That wise ruler duly admonished his wayward son and suggested hunting in preference to "dalliance unwise." The sage added his profound wisdom, as was his wont. These admonitions only resulted in the lovers fleeing the city. Across desert and sea they went until they came to a most wonderful island, the island of all earthly delights.