I was the son of a respectable merchant in moussoul my father intended to bring me up to his own trade but I was idle and did not like. it one day as I was playing in the street a very old man came up to me and asked me if I would go with him I asked him where he was going he replyed that if I would go with him he would show me very wonderful things this raised my curiosity and I consented he imediatly took me by the hand and hurried me out of the city of Moussoul so quickly that my breath was almost stopped and it seemed as if we glided along in the air for I could hear no sound of our footsteps we continued on our course for a long time till we came to glen surrounded by very high mountains how we passed over those mountains I could never tell, in the middle of the glen there was a small fountain of very clear water my conducter directed me to drink of it this I did and imediatly I found myself in a palace the glory of which far exceeds any description which I can give the tall stately pillars reaching from heaven to earth were formed of the fines and pured diamonds the pavement sparkling with gold and precious stones and the mighty dome made solem and awful by its stupendous magnitude was of a single emerald. in the midst of this grand and magnificent palace was a lamp like the sun the radiance of which made all the palace to flash and glitter with an almost fearful grandeur the ruby sent a stream forth of crimson light the topaz gold the saphire intensest purple and the dome poured a flood of deep clear splendour which overcame all the other gaudy lights by its mild triumphant glory in this palace were thousands and tens of thousand of faires and geni some of whom flitted lightly among the blazing lamps to the sound of unearthly music which dyed and swelled in a strain of wild grandeur suited to the words they sung-- in this fairy land of light no mortal ere has been and the dreadful grandeu of this sight by them hath not been seen t'would strike them shudering to the earth like the flash from a thunder cloud it would quench their light and joyous mirth and fit them for the shroud the rising of our palaces like visions of the deep and the glory of their structure no mortal voice can speak the music of our songs and our mighty trumpets swell and the sounding of our silver harps no mortal tongue can tell of us they know but little save when the storm doth rise and the mighty waves are tossing agains the arched skys [7] then oft they see us striding o'e'r the billows snow white foam or hear us speak in thunder when we stand in grandeur lone on the darkest of the mighty clouds which veil the pearly moon around us lightning flashing nights blackness to illume chorus the music of our songs and our mighty trumpets swell and the sounding of our silver harp no mortal tongue can tell