ABSTRACT
IT IS POSSIBLE that Sheba and her Queen, the Queen of the South and of the morning, the most romantic feminine figure of the East, may never emerge fully from the sands of antiquity. The footprints are there by which to track the story of Sheba and Saaba, the perfume of the past still lingers over the incense countries, but the twentieth century may never succeed to its own satisfaction in tracing these imprints home or digging out exact facts and stone figures to satisfy Record offices and museums.
