Sometimes we hear parties of men uttering
strange cries and sounding aloud the praises of Imam Riza, Houssein,
Hassan, and other worthies of the Mohammedan world, in response to which
are heard the swelling voices of a multitude of people shouting in
chorus, "Allah be praised! Allah be praised!!" These weird chanters are
dervishes, who, with tiger-skin mantles drawn carelessly about them,
clubs or battle-axes on shoulder, their long unkempt hair dangling down
their backs, look wildly grotesque as they parade the streets of the
Persian Mecca.
Meshed is a strange city for a Ferenghi to live in; every day are heard
the chanting and singing of newly arriving bands of pilgrims, the
strange, wild utterances of dervishes preaching on the streets, and the
shouting responses of their auditors. Conspicuous above everything else
in the city, as gold is conspicuous from dross, is the golden dome and
gold-tipped minarets of the holy edifice that imparts to the city its
sacred character. The gold is in thin plates covering the hemispherical
roof like sheets of tin; like most Eastern things, its appearance is more
impressive from a distance than at close quarters. Grains of barley
deposited on the roof by pigeons have sprouted and grown in rank bunches
between the thin gold plates, many of which are partially loose,
imparting to the place an air of neglect and decay.
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