I would then walk on until my weariness became clear to him, and he would ask, “Are you tired?”

Fearing him I would answer, “No.”

He would say, “Then why are you slowing your pace?”

So I would hurry on ahead of him for a while, but before long I would be unable to continue. He would take the second stone and throw it away, and I would walk until I could go no farther; only then would he pick me up and carry me.

On the road we would encounter groups of farmers and others who would say, “Shaykh ʿĪsā, hand the child over to us; we will mount him—and you as well—until we reach Būshanj.”

He would reply, “God forbid that we ride while seeking the ḥadith of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. Rather, we shall walk; and if he becomes unable, I will carry him on my shoulders out of reverence for the Messenger’s ḥadith and in hope of its reward.”

The fruit of that sincere intention was that I benefited from hearing this book and others, and none of my contemporaries remained alive besides me, so that delegations now travel to me from the various cities. He then signalled to our companion ʿAbd al-Bāqī ibn ʿAbd al-Jabbār al-Harawī to bring me some sweets.

I said, “Master, reading the Fascicle of Abū al-Jahm is dearer to me than eating sweets.”

He smiled and said, “When food enters, speech departs.”

He set before us a platter filled with sugar-candy, and we ate. I produced the fascicle and asked him to bring out the original manuscript; he did so and said, “Do not be anxious or overly eager, for I have already buried many people who heard ḥadith from me. Ask Allah for well-being.”

I read the fascicle and rejoiced in it, and Allah enabled me to hear the Sahih and other works many times. I remained in his company and at his service until he passed away in Baghdad on the night of Tuesday in Dhu al-Ḥijjah (1)—I say: when the day had dawned, it was the sixth of the month.

He said, “We buried him in the Shūnīziyya cemetery.”

He had told me, “Bury me beneath the feet of our shaykhs in Shūnīziyya.”

When the moment of death came, I propped him against my chest. He was completely absorbed (2) in remembrance, and Muḥammad ibn al-Qāsim the Sufi entered and bent over—