At noon Mirza Moneer brought me a letter to translate into Persian. When this was finished I called at the Master's house to deliver it. I knocked at the door three or four times before Khosro answered. As I waited outside I heard the voice of the Master, dictating Tablets to Mirza Moneer. I was then announced and ushered into the room. The Master welcomed me. He was sitting near the balcony; in front of him was a chair piled high with letters from the East and West. His dress and turban were of snowy white matching his beautiful locks and beard. Across the street there was a tall green acacia tree which attracted his attention. Now and then His eyes closed and again opened revealing infinite pity and love hidden in His eyes. Mirza Moneer was sitting writing down the heavenly words which flowed like a fountain from the tongue of the Beloved. As I watched him, I was struck by the divine beauty of his countenance, soft, tender and most adorable.
