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 have you done with the roses of your face? You are pale and worn out."

"One has to work hard in America," I replied. "It is a country which requires of your best, of your utmost, if you are to succeed." And again I went on to tell him of the fast trains which go sixty miles an hour, of the elevated trains, flying above the middle of the streets, and of the preparations for the subways, which were to burrow in the depths of the city.

"But why are they working so hard and preparing so much?" he asked, a bit bewildered. "After all they will have to die, and when they are dead they can only have a grave like anybody else."

I shook my head. "They are making away with the graves, my Ali Baba. They have invented a quicker and more expedient way of getting rid of the body. They place it on a table in a special room, and within two hours all that is left of it is a simple white strip of clean ashes."

He gasped. "They have done that?" he cried in horror. "They have done that! Allah, can'st thou forgive them?" He leaned towards me, earnestness and entreaty in his kind face. "Don't go back there, my little one, don't go back there again. It is an accursed country which steals the peace from the living, their bodies from the dead, and robs a child of her