uncertainty. Many elements contributed to this unrest. Travellers learned that the more prosperous nations had rejected the age long sanctions of Paganism; earnest, thoughtful men could not but recognise its inadequacy to satisfy the religious aspirations of their fellows; Jews and Christians, who had settled in the country, had introduced views that appealed to those who were dissatisfied with the old methods of thought; while the need for social and political unity called for a force that would unite the scattered tribes in the pursuit of common ideals. Thus was the land prepared for the mighty revolution that was to come—a revolution that made one great nation of the various tribes, and turned their warlike instincts and characteristic fanaticism, which before had been dissipated by wasteful internecine strife, into one definite channel, until it became a menace to the whole world. A change so potent, that, in the lifetime of one man, it was able to obliterate partly by absorption, and chiefly by annihilation, the sanctions and beliefs of centuries, and which fostered a hatred so bitter, and a brotherhood so strong, between man and man, that by its sanction the dearest, tenderest, and strongest ties of humanity have been broken, while those who for years had lived in enmity were united in bonds stronger than death. Under its malevolent influence, children have ruthlessly slain their parents, believing that thus would they merit heaven. And men of different race have fought side by side under one banner, hurling themselves with fanatical heroism upon their enemies, believing that to die in such a way meant the winning of an immortal crown.

During his boyhood, Mohammed had plenty of opportunities for observing the condition of affairs, and, thanks to his privilege of travelling with the caravans, was even able to notice the contrast between the conditions of his own people and those of the more peaceable, prosperous nations. He frequently attended upon his uncle in the fighting that often occurred between the tribes, and so gained the knowledge of military strategy which proved to be so useful at a later time. Margoliouth suggests that the two most important lessons the "prophet" learned at this time were the necessity of settling affairs of blood by some expedient less wasteful, and more satisfactory than that which was illustrated by the war of Fizar, and that war should be regarded not as a game, but as a mode of obtaining decisive results.

The varied experiences he passed through on his caravan journeys did much to influence his future policy; indeed, it appears that all influences brought to bear upon his early life were forces that moulded and equipped him for the office he was to fill. He was keenly observant, and wonderfully accurate in his inferences, especially in his estimate of the characters of men with whom he had to deal. He seemed to lack initiative, for he was always reluctant to take action in any important undertaking; but once the initial step was taken, he pressed forward with indomitable courage. In his business transactions he proved himself to be shrewd and tactful, and by his fidelity, patience, and self-confidence, gained the respect and esteem of his immediate fellows.

Khadijah, a rich widow, having entrusted Mohammed with the control of an important caravan, and finding how admirably he had performed his part, wisely concluded that her interests would be furthered if he had a share in them. Hence their marriage, which happy arrangement proved to be mutually blessed and successful. It vastly improved Mohammed's social standing, raising him to a position of equality with the leading men of the city. For many years he was content to live quietly as an ordinary citizen, engrossed in the accumulation of wealth by legitimate trading.

II.—THE "CALL" TO THE PROPHETIC OFFICE.

It has not been recorded how first he began to yield to the impulses that eventually led him to assume the role of reformer, but it is certain that at the age of forty he was the leader of a secret society, which had for its object the political and religious unity of the Arab people. He knew that far-reaching changes were necessary in every department of national policy before his ideal could be realised. Unity was the secret of power and prosperity. This he had learned through contact with other nations. His dealing with Jews and Christians had given rise to a deep appreciation of the value of a monotheistic faith in the consolidation of a people, and he was convinced that political unity would be achieved only where there was religious unity. With masterly insight he laid his plans accordingly, and because of the extreme conservatism was obliged to formulate them in strict secrecy. Unfortunately, owing to his untrustworthy sources of information, his policy was founded upon false bases. His distorted conception of truth led him to establish a system of false philosophy and theology so framed as to allow of no alteration or adaptation. In his elaboration of the system, he depended much upon his own meditative habits, and no doubt thought it all out in the loneliness of the mountains, to which he frequently retired for the observance of certain ascetic customs of the Pagans. Thus his scheme of reform crystallised into definite shape, and his call to the prophetic office became a fixed idea.

He felt certain that success lay in the determined proclamation of one god as opposed to the many of the Arab pantheon, and the more he pondered over this Being, of whom he had heard from the Jews and Christians, the greater became his certainty. God was supreme and omnipotent; of that there could be no doubt. But how to convince the people was a difficulty that needed much careful thought and cautious propagation. Jews and Christians could boast of prophets—of men inspired to speak with the voice of God—but the Arabs had had no one who had spoken with such authority. Why had they been so neglected? Surely they needed to hear the Divine voice, and that need was never greater than now, when all was unrest and dissention. Where was the man who would fill the office? Who would be willing to face the odds, and declare against evil by proclaiming the good and the true? Such must have been the questions that exercised Mohammed's mind. Then came the thought—"Why should not I be the messenger?" And this so grew upon him that he was convinced of his "call." The possession of this idea made him sincere in his purpose at first, but after the tide had turned in his favour, that sincerity was marred—nay, eclipsed—by an inflated notion of self-importance, and a consuming ambition to which every virtue and good feeling was subordinated, until at last he was able, with superb arrogance, to bracket his name with Deity, making the confession of his claim as important as the confession of the Unity of God. Wherein his inconsistency and falsity is chiefly apparent, for confession of Unity is insufficient without recognition of Mohammed's apostleship!

Ascetic practices tend to lead to physical disorders, which generally upset the mind and lead to mental and moral distemper. Judgment is warped because the functions of the mind are thrown out of gear. The varied departments of consciousness act with ungoverned caprice, with the result that fantastical fancies and visions are interpreted to be realties, which become misleading and deceptive. Thus may be explained the visit of the Archangel Gabriel to Mohammed, but it can hardly be conceived that it will account for the ingenious method of revelation which he received. Some people believe it to have been inspired by Satan; it must ever remain a matter of speculation.

The necessity of a piecemeal revelation could not at this time have been apparent to the prophet. But we may give him the credit of the policy of abrogation which he afterwards adopted, for such a policy was necessary to enable him to cover or justify his actions which,