was a venerable man whom I had seen in other dreams of mine.
"Even so," he said, kindly. "Yet still you have something to be thankful for. Damma, too, is dead the lightning has slain her."
"But Antar, my husband!" cried Rheda; "what has the good God left me?"
"Has he not left you Arvah?" quoth Father Paul.
And Rheda looked up through her tears, and was comforted.
*****
Such is hachish, and such are some of the images which it paints before the brain of its devotee. I have found it to be a nepenthes, a sweet bringer of delicious oblivion, and a generous parent of delightful dreams. I have indulged in it a good deal, but not to excess; and I hope to enjoy its effects many times again. And I can conscientiously say that, so far as I know, I am not one whit the worse for my experiences with this wonderful drug. People usually take me to be somewhat
