them to accept it. Recently, someone found a copy and sent it to me. I took the head of the Old Said and studied it attentively with the inspirations of the New Said. I understood that with a strange premonition, the Old Said felt the material and non-material events that would happen now, thirty to forty years later. Behind the veil of the nomadic Kurdish tribes, he as though saw the irreligious truly backward and treacherous true reactionaries of the present, who mask themselves with a veil of civilization and patriotism and who drive this nation back to pre-Islamic customs, and was speaking with them and striking them on the head.

Secondly: I read carefully from pages 105 to 109 of the printed work, and it seemed as though there was some sort of saint among the tribes I was instructing at that time by means of question and answer. I was unaware of it. At that point, he objected strongly, saying:

"You're exaggerating! You see the imaginary as real, and you're insulting us. These are the end times, everything is going to get gradually worse." It says the following in the book:

"Why should the world be the world of progress for everyone else and the world of decline and retrogression for us? Is that the case? See, I'm not going to speak to you, I'm turning this way; I shall speak to the people of the future:

"O you Saids, Hamzas, Ömers, Osmans, Tahirs, Yusufs, Ahmeds and the rest of you who are hidden behind the high age of three centuries hence, and listening silently to my words, watch us with a secret, unseen gaze! I am addressing you! Raise your heads and say: 'You are right!' And it should be incumbent on you to say it. Let these contemporaries of mine not listen if they do not wish. I am speaking to you over the wireless telegraph that stretches from the valleys of the past called history to your elevated future. What should I do? I was hasty, I came in winter, but you will come in a paradise-like spring. The seeds of light sown now will open as flowers in your ground. And we await this from you as the recompense for our service that when you come to go to the past, pass by my grave, and place a few of those gifts of spring by the citadel of Van, which is the gravestone of my medrese and houses my bones, and is the custodian of the Horhor's earth."

That is to say, as it says in the Thirteenth Hope of the Treatise for the Elderly, ".... and the death of my medrese, which had flourished and been the gathering-place of friends and was the preparatory school for the Medresetü'z-Zehrâ, indicated the vastness of the immaterial corpse of all the medreses in Anatolia, which had been abolished and died; the great