'"I was permitted to gratify the unhappy spirit, wondering at the same time what benefit he could derive from touching me. Advancing near the tortured soul he stretched forth his hand and touched me on the knee; it was like a firebrand; I drew back hastily and found my knee was scorched. 'Return to men with warnings,' said the wretched spirit. 'Tell them of my unhappy state; tell them what are the tortures of the wicked; that touch you have received on your knee, is of the same nature my whole body suffers in eternal flames.'—The pain I suffered in my knee disordered my sleep; I awoke in agony, and here it is to this day," said the Woodman, untying a bandage from his knee. "Examine the place, and be warned, O Kauzy, by the terrible certainty I have brought from that Banker whom you knew, and who is now suffering for his injustice on earth. I have been lame from that night of my dream," continued Syaad Harshim, "but I shall rejoice in the pain, if the example influence one hardened sinner to repent, whilst repentance may avail."
'During the recital of the dream, Syaad Harshim watched the countenance of the Kauzy, who tried in vain to hide the guilty changes of his face. The Syaad at last fixed his keen eyes on him, "Now, friend," said he, "it would be great folly to add guilt to guilt by farther subterfuge. I know the day, the hour, you ingeniously substituted a false key to this man's chest; I could tell you what you wickedly took out; the place where it is secreted, even, is not hidden from my knowledge; go, bring it from your wife's apartment; a little labour will remove it from the corner near the bedstead."
'The Kauzy was now subdued by the commanding truths of the Syaad, and his heart being softened by the fearful relation of the Banker's torment, he sank to the earth with shame and remorse,—"I acknowledge my sin, thou holy man of truth;—forgive me!" he cried, "forgive me, oh my God! I am indeed repentant, and by this holy man's means I am brought to a sense of my guilt!" He then went to the women's apartment, brought out the chest and delivered it to the owner, entreating Syaad Harshim to forgive him.
'The Syaad replied, "I have nothing to forgive, nor power to remit; my advice you have freely, and may it serve you! Seek pardon from God who loves to be sought, and whose mercy never faileth. He is not the God of revenge, where repentance is sincere; but He is the God of mercy to all who seek Him faithfully. His mercy is already extended to you, for He has given you time to repent:—but for His mercy, you had been taken to your punishment, whilst you had no thoughts of repentance in your guilty heart. Farewell! let me know by your future life, that Syaad Harshim's lost labour in the jungle of this day, has produced something to the better harvest—awakening one sinner to a sense of his danger."'
Meer Hadjee Shaah has related to me many singular anecdotes of this Syaad Harshim, which are generally spoken of, and believed to be true by the sojourners at Nudghiff Usheruff. His memory is much respected by the Mussulmauns, and the acts of his life are registered with the veneration paid to saints, amongst people of more enlightened nations. They confidently assert, that whenever Syaad Harshim presented himself at the entrance to Nudghiff Usheruff, the gates, which are always kept locked, flew open to receive him.
In proof that he disregarded worldly possessions, the following is related of him in the ancient works both of Arabia and Persia:—
'The great conqueror, Nadir Shaah, on one occasion visited the shrine of Ali, with a vast retinue of his chiefs, courtiers, and followers. The King heard, whilst at Nudghiff Usheruff, of the sainted life led by the Woodman, Syaad Harshim, in that neighbourhood, and he felt disposed to tender a present of money and valuables, to induce the Syaad's prayer for his future prosperity. Accordingly, the King commanded trays to be filled from his Indian spoils, which were sent with a message, humbly couched, entreating the good Syaad would accept his offering of respect, and make prayers to God for him.
'The trays were conveyed by servants of the King, who arrived at the Syaad's hut at the moment he was satisfying the demands of nature with a meal of coarse barley bread and pure water. "What is all this?" inquired the Syaad, on seeing the valuables before him. "An humble offering from the great Nadir Shaah," replied the messenger, "who entreats you will honour him by the acceptance of his presents, and offer your pious prayer for God's mercy in his behalf." "My prayers", said the Syaad, "I can promise shall be made duly and truly, but not my acceptance of his gifts. Take back these hateful, useless things! Tell Nadir Shaah, Syaad Harshim will not even touch them." The messenger tried persuasions without avail; he was constrained to return to his royal master, with his loaded trays.
'No sooner were the King's servants out of sight, than the wife of Syaad Harshim vented her disappointment in no measured strain of anger towards her husband. "Here am I," said the old lady, "a very slave in consequence of our poverty, a very beggar in appearance, and my scanty meal of coarse bread is scarce sufficient to keep me in bodily strength; surely you ought to have remembered me, when the King's offering was before you—even if you liked not to accept it for yourself."—"I might indeed", he replied, "have done as you say, wife, had I known your sentiments sooner; but I believed you were as contented as myself with homely fare and honest labour; but be comforted, you shall have a share of the next offering made by the King to Syaad Harshim, provided your present inclination remains unchanged by time." This promise quieted the wife's angry humour, and peace was again restored between them.
'"Wife," said the Syaad, "this al-kaulock[19] (Arab's coat of calico) of mine requires a little of thy labour: as I have now no other garment to change with, I trust you may please to wash it whilst I take my sleep;—one caution you must observe,—I have occasion for the water in which this dress is to be washed; preserve it carefully for me, my good wife;" and he laid him down on his mat to sleep. The wife, obedient to her husband's wishes, washed his dress, and took care to preserve the dirty water; when he awoke, she brought him the clean garment, and received his warm commendations for her diligence. She then produced the pan of dirty water, in which she had cleansed the garment, saying, "There, Syaad Harshim, I have done as you desired."—"Very good," replied her husband, "now you must farther oblige me by drinking it—you know there is nothing in this water but the sweat of my body produced by my daily labour." The wife, disgusted at the strange request of her husband, looked with amazement, and fancied he must have lost his senses. "What is this you require of me? would you poison your wife, O Syaad Harshim, with the filth from your skin, the accumulation of many days' labour in the jungles? art thou mad, to ask thy wife a request so unheard of?"