THE PRISONER'S FRIEND

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 33, 8 February 1930, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE PRISONER'S FRIEND

A TALE OP LONG AGO.

There was one© a Caliph of an Eastern kingdom who lived in a great fortress. His burnous was snowy white; his rich, flowing gown deep blue; lie dyed his raven hair and beard with henna to show that he had been the pilgrimage to Mecca; and he wore a green turban as a sign that he was descended from the prophet. When he rode through the narrow streets of his white-housed, windowless city, everyone bowed before him, calling out,' "Way for- the Caliph, Commander of the Faithful, Protector of the Poor!" Now, *as every day the ruler passed thus through the town, he noticed a captive peering at him out of the arched cellar-grating of the big underground town dungeon. Though the face of the prisoner was pale, it was not unhappy; which was strange, seeing that he had been shut up there since the day of the Caliph s late father.

What his crime was the great man couhl scarcely bring to mind; he rather thought it was that the wretch had not found enough money for the taxgatherers. At last a day came when .the Caliph summoned the gaoler of the dungeon to his presence, and said to him: "Daily have I watched the captive Hassan looking out of the prison grating, and the light of contentment on his face surprises me. He must have some pleasant task, some endearing companion, inside his cell. Watch, and let me know."

"To hear is to obey," said the gaoler

A day or two later he camo to the Caliph, saying: "Lord, I have discovered how Hassan spends long hours in amusing himself. Ho taps at a cranny in the wall. Down swings a large spider on its line, to bo fed with flies, caressed, and played with by Hassan/ for hours together. Then, at a signal from the prisoner, whenever anyone approaches, once more the spider ascends its line and hides, to come down again when summoned."

"I would fain behold the scene," said the Caliph. "Take me where I may watcli the two together;"

"Nay, Lord, that is not possible," replied the gaoler. "Directly I saw the spider was afi'ording real pleasure and relief to Hassan, I killed it."

The Caliph's eyes flashed,

"Unfeeling wretcli!" lie exclaimed, when at last spcech was possible to hiin. "How could thou bring thyself to destroy the one friend that Allah vouchsafed to him!

"""Let Hassan be released forthwith, and do thou thyself take his place in the dungeon, till thou hast succeeded in gaining the friendship of such another spider!"

GO ON.

There is a courage of the battlefield and a courage of the home. An old friend of the late Mr. T. P. O'Connor tells a touching story of the old man's bravery.

For many 'years lie had written a weekly article for an American paper which brought him £1000 a year. One day, when he was nearly 75, lie received a telegram which ended the contract. Mr. J. L. Garvin, the famous editor of the "Observer," happened to be visiting him when it came, and T.P. handed him the telegram saying, with a faint smile, "This is hard, but I must just go on."

It was a gallant saying from a hard worker of 75. Perhaps it'will help younger ones to face disaster if they remember that the only thing to do is just to go on.