to bring a vile specimen of Russian vodka! What would the spirit of Omar have said about ' the old familiar juice ' ?
The approach of darkness was already noticeable as we drove out of the city to resume our journey, passing once more by the road that leads near Omar's grave. The sun's dying shim- mer lit up anew the snowy lines on the distant mountain tops, while we halted our horses for a moment to bid a last adieu to the poet and his home. Happily we found that our Armenian servant, Hovannes Agopian, had preserved in his pack a pint bottle of red wine which he had purchased in another town on the journey. It seemed the fitting hour to drain a cup in Omar's memory, even though not handed by the Saki, his
- cypress-slender minister of wine.' ' Yon waxing moon ' was
already rising, and soon would be looking down upon the quiet garden where Omar lies in dust, forming no longer one of the company of 'guests star-scattered on the grass.' We joined in quaffing the sparkling cup in his name ; and, as we turned down the ' empty glass,' it was with the wish that only that which is best may remain in after ages connected with the fame of the great astronomer, philosopher, and poet. Then off we cantered, falling into a revery and wondering about the widely divergent views, favorable and unfavorable, that are held by critics of Omar Khayyam in the West and in the East. Some have praised his verses for their bold expression of certain thoughts that lie deep in the heart of man. More have decried his stanzas, branding them as sensual in their portrayal of love, pessimistic in their philosophic tone, and blasphemous in their attitude of irreligion. As to the final judgment in all such matters, no better phrase can be used than the old familiar one of the Orient — ' Allah alone knows. He knows, He knows. He knows.'
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