with me each day through the city, in order that I might behold its rarities and marvels, and speak of them in my own country.  He granted my desire.  One of the customs of this people is, that the individual who receives a robe of honor from the emperor, and mounts a horse from his stables, must be conducted through the squares of the city, to the sound of trumpets, clarions and cymbals, so that the population may behold him.  This is oftenest done with those Turks who come from the dominions of the Uzbek sultan, in order that they may suffer no annoyance.  I was conducted through the markets in the same manner.’

But the autumn night is closing in, and we must shut up the volume.  We can not, to-day, follow the brave old traveler through all the vicissitudes of his long pilgrimage.  He allows us to perceive much that he does not tell us outright, and it is a satisfaction to learn, from his pages, that if society were less ordered, secure, and externally proper five hundred years ago, individual generosity and magnanimity were more marked, and the good in the human race, as now, overbalanced the evil.  One more story Ibn Batuta must tell us, before we take leave of him,—­one story, which must warm every heart which can appreciate that rarest of virtues, tolerance.  The father of the Greek emperor was still living, having abdicated the crown in favor of his son Andronicus, and become a monk.  The Moslem traveler thus describes his interview with the old Christian monarch:—­

’I was one day in company with the Greek who was appointed to ride with me through the city, when we suddenly encountered the old emperor, walking on foot, clothed in hair garments, and with a felt cap on his head.  He had a long white beard and a noble face, which presented traces of the pious practices whereto his life was devoted.  Before and behind him walked a troop of monks.  He held a staff in his hand, and had a rosary about his neck.  When the Greek beheld him, he alighted, and said to me, “Dismount; it is the father of the emperor.”  When the Greek had saluted him, he demanded who I was, then stopped, and summoned me to him.  I approached; he took my hand, and said to the Greek, who knew the Arabic language,—­“Say to this Saracen (that is to say, Mussulman), that I press the hand which has entered Jerusalem, and the foot which has walked by the Holy Rock, and the Holy Sepulchre, and in Bethlehem,” Having spoken, he placed his hand on my feet, and then passed it over his own face.  I was amazed at the respect which these people exhibit towards an individual of another religion than their own, who has visited the holy places.  The old emperor then took me by the hand, and I walked along with him.  He questioned me on the subject of Jerusalem and the Christians who dwell there.  In his company I entered the consecrated ground belonging to the church.  As he approached the principal gate, a crowd of priests and monks issued to salute him, for he was now one of their chiefs.  When he saw them, he let go of my hand, and I said to him, “I desire to enter the church with thee.”  He said to the interpreter, “Inform him that whoever enters is absolutely obliged to prostrate himself before the principal crucifix.  It is a thing prescribed by the Fathers, and can not be transgressed.”  I then left him, he entered alone, and I never saw him again.’