'' ``But I don't know where to
go.'' ``Well, if you will find a river that runs
through white sands, between high mountains,
in those white sands you will always find
diamonds.'' ``I don't believe there is any such
river.'' ``Oh yes, there are plenty of them. All
you have to do is to go and find them, and then
you have them.'' Said Ali Hafed, ``I will go.''
So he sold his farm, collected his money, left
his family in charge of a neighbor, and away he
went in search of diamonds. He began his search,
very properly to my mind, at the Mountains of
the Moon. Afterward he came around into Palestine,
then wandered on into Europe, and at last
when his money was all spent and he was in
rags, wretchedness, and poverty, he stood on the
shore of that bay at Barcelona, in Spain, when
a great tidal wave came rolling in between the
pillars of Hercules, and the poor, afflicted,
suffering, dying man could not resist the awful
temptation to cast himself into that incoming tide, and
he sank beneath its foaming crest, never to rise
in this life again.
When that old guide had told me that awfully
sad story he stopped the camel I was riding on
and went back to fix the baggage that was coming
off another camel, and I had an opportunity to
muse over his story while he was gone.
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