The priest lifted the chalice. On the incense veiled altar the musician saw a sunbeam dart into the Holy Cup, and he heard the well-remembered voice breathe forth a glorious message,-- "Clothe them and give them bread. In that last vow the flower has reached the Sun-lands." [Illustration: "THOU SHALT CLOTHE THEM AND GIVE THEM BREAD"] THE GARDEN OF INNOCENCE [Illustration: THE GARDEN OF INNOCENCE] "A Book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness Ah, Wilderness were Paradise enow!" Omar Khayyam I. Many a year ago, in a land that was washed by the sea, there lived a King who had an only son whom he loved very dearly. Fertile gardens surrounded the palace. They extended for miles and miles. In the distance the sapphire sea looked like a calm lake. The gardens were rich in flowers, which bloomed all the year in this land of perpetual summer. There were lilies and violets, hyacinths, carnations, cyclamens, and orchids; but the rose was mistress of the land, and they called it the "Rose Islands." The trees were filled with song-birds, and the air was fragrant with perfume tempered by the sea. If ever mortal man was framed for happiness, the Prince of the Rose Islands was he--a youth of a gallant disposition, his golden hair hanging from beneath his jewelled cap, his brown eyes half hidden by their long lashes. His doublet was of white brocade, his hose and pointed shoes of silk; he was the _beau idéal_ of a prince in form and figure, and brave as he was amiable, two royal qualities. The King, his father, observing that he appeared to be sad when it seemed to him he should be most happy, asked Ulric what troubled him. "I am lonely, so please your Grace, and I would fain have a friend." "I am thy friend, sweet son. Have I done aught that should forfeit me thy friendship?" "My lord the King, I am always thine--thine in true obedience, thine in the sight of God, thine in filial love, but not in friendship. Though I dream of it night and day, I have never known friendship; sometimes, indeed, I fear that it cannot exist," replied the Prince sadly. "Nay, Ulric, in good sooth, thou art mistaken. Look about thee, in the palace. The noble lords of our Court, the high-born pages who minister to thy wants, are all thy humble and devoted friends." "Father, prithee pardon me for my temerity in differing from thy gracious word; but those of whom thou speakest are not my friends. They know that I am all-powerful with thee. They are but fawning sycophants, who feed upon thy bounty. If the sentiment they profess to cherish for me be friendship, then indeed my dreams of the meaning of the word are hollow, as hollow as is my life in this paradise of beauty." The King laid his hand upon his son's head, and looked into his sad face.