It seemed to him, at thirty-five, that only now had he discovered the secret of living. Not until now had his choice and destiny come together to make this perfect equation of life. The work he loved of the bark _Queen Maeve_, with her beautiful sails like a racing yacht's, her white decks, her shining brass. The carrying of necessities from Britain to Syria, the land he loved, next to Ulster, his mother. And the carrying from Syria into harsh plain Britain of cargoes of beauty like those of Sheba's queen, on camels that bare spices, and very much gold and precious stones. And the great ancient city where he lived; not even Damascus, the pride of the world, exceeded it for beauty. Forward of massed Lebanon, white with snow it lay, a welter of red roots and green foliage--the blue water, the garlanded acacias, the roses, the sally branches. Beauty! Beauty! The Arab shepherds in abbas of dark magenta, the black Greek priests, the green of a pilgrim's turban, the veiled women smoking narghiles and daintly sipping sherbet, pink and yellow and white. The cry of the donkey-boy, and the cry of the cameleer, and the cry of the muezzin from the mosque. The quaint salutations as he passed along the staired streets: _Naharkum Sayeed!_--May your day be blessed. _Naharaka abyad!_--May your day be white. _Allah yahtikum el afiyeh!_--God give health to you. They were chanted like a refrain of a song. Beauty! Riot and slashing of color. Yet there was line here and massive proportion. The sparkling, magenta city had been the theater of great marching hosts. The Phenicians had built it: "the root of life, the nurse of cities, the primitive queen of the world," they had named her. And gone the Phenicians, and came the slim subtle Egyptians. And the massive burly Assyrians came next: and now the memory of them was forgotten, also their love and their hatred and their envy was now perished. And then came the tramp of the Roman legions, Agrippa's men, and held the city for centuries. Justinian had one of his law schools there, until the earth quaked and the scholars dispersed. And then the Saracens held it until Baldwin, brother of Godfrey de Bouillon, clashed into it with mailed crusaders; and Baldwin, overcome with the beauty of the land, took him a paynim queen. And then came the occult reign of the Druse. And then the Turk. And St. George had killed the Dragon there, after the old monk's tale.