WHO CAN BE A YOGI?: Page 82

his hands and beats his breast-he hates himself. It is all kismet, is his wail I Ah! this superstition 1 How vice-like is its grip on the tamasic man! Once upon a time there lived a Persian king who commanded the angelic as well as the human worlds. Peris, and houries of transcendent charm, slaves, dzins, gods, animals, all obeyed him. This powerful monarch had a very wise physician at his court. This physician was master of all occult knowledge. Vast was his learning-deep his erudition. The finer forces of this tremendous universe had no secrets for him. The king in one of his odd moments sent for him. "Great Master of the Mysterious in Nature, solve me the riddle of birth and death. Solve me the riddle of fate,"-thus spoke the monarch. "Gracious king," replied the physician, "Fate wears an inscrutable face. It sways all, all." "Prove it," challenged the king. The physician then had a jar brought up to him. He prepared certain combinations of herbs, known only to the ancient Kabalists and put them into the jar. He then had the jar hermetically sealed; and handed it to the king: "King! I have gratified your whim. My life's span covers twenty-four hours more. Six months after you shall open this jar in the presence of all your courtiers. Out of the jar shall emerge a bird of royal plumage. Let the bravest man be ready to ride after this bird. Let his steed be of the fleetest and the best in your stud. This bird shall fly over 600 miles. The horseman must