rumble. Neither, however, is distressingly loud.

[Illustration: OUTER ENTRANCE OF THE CITADEL, CAIRO

From a photograph by Sebah, Cairo]

Meanwhile the dervishes have entered, and, muffled in their cloaks, are
standing, a silent band, round the edge of the arena; their sheykh--a
very old man, much bent, but with a noble countenance--takes his place
upon the sacred rug, and receives with dignity their obeisances. All
remain motionless for a while. Then the sheykh rises, heads the
procession, and, with a very slow step, they all move round the arena,
bowing towards the sacred carpet as they pass it. This opening ceremony
concluded, the sheykh again takes his seat, and the dervishes, divesting
themselves of their cloaks, step one by one into the open space, where,
after a prayer, each begins whirling slowly, with closed eyes. They are
all attired in long, full white skirts, whose edges have weights
attached to them; as the speed of the music increases, their whirl
becomes more rapid, but it remains always even; though their eyes are
closed, they never touch each other. From the description alone, it is
difficult to imagine that this rite (for such it is) is solemn. But
looked at with the actual eyes, it seemed to me an impressive ceremony;
the absorbed appearance of the participants, their unconsciousness of
all outward things, the earnestness of the aspiration visible on their
faces--all these were striking. The zikr, as this species of religious
effort is named, is an attempt to reach a state of ecstasy
(hallucination, we should call it), during which the human being, having
forgotten the existence of its body, becomes for the moment spirit only,
and can then mingle with the spirit world. The Dancing Dervishes
endeavor to bring on this trance by the physical dizziness which is
produced by whirling; the Howling Dervishes try to effect the same by
swinging their heads rapidly up and down, and from side to side, with a
constant shout of "Allah!" "Allah!". The latter soon reach a state of
temporary frenzy. For this reason the dancers are more interesting;
their ecstasy, being silent, seems more earnest. The religion of the
Hindoos has a similar idea in another form--namely, that the highest
happiness is a mingling with God, and an utter unconsciousness of one's
humanity. Christian hermits, in retiring from the world, have sought, as
far as possible, the same mental condition; but for a lifetime, not,
like the dervishes, f