priety, each man remaining silent until called upon to speak, and the Sultan always fearful and imposing, maintaining the aloofness of one who would not permit it to be forgotten that he held the fate of all men in the palm of his hand. Conversation, according to Ibn al-Athir, was limited to such subjects as jurisprudence, religion and the histories of the saints. Only those took the floor who knew the Koran by heart, or were well versed in the Traditions—that is, the hafedhs, or holy men. These and the poets and the learned ones who could recite the events of Mohammedan history handed down by oral tradition. Solemn affairs they must have been, with small talk only to be whispered in the corners. The change to Saladin's freedom shocked those privileged individuals who had held the spot light in the reign of his predecessor, and Abou'l-Kacem ibn Asaker of Damascus was so disgusted with the license permitted by Saladin that he left one of his assemblies in frank disgust, and wrathfully refused his later invitations. When Saladin asked for an explanation the indignant scholar minced no words in making known his feelings. "Your gatherings disgust me," he said flatly, "to the bottom of my soul. They are like the meetings of the common people, where no one listens and no one responds to those who speak. Formerly, when I took part in the assemblies of Nur ed-din, his views alone inspired us with so much respect that we stood before him as ifς we had the bird perched upon our head,' as