sultan by steel or bowstring. In the Egyptian
mosques there is always a nazir or warder, who
is the tmstee and manager of the houses, lands,
and money, left to the mosque; and it is he who
appoints and dismisses the doorkeepers, water-
bearers, sweepers, and lamplighters. There are
generally to the larger mosques two Imauns
or lay-readers of the Koran; one of whom
delivers the short sermon every Friday; but, in
small mosques, like those at Moscow, the
preacher and reader are one and the same
person. These men can follow any trade, and are
paid by the funds of the mosque, not by voluntary
or involuntary subscriptions. They do not depend
on the caprice of their congregation. They are
ordinary tradesmen who, for a piastre or halfpenny,
or, at the most, five piastres a month, recite five
prayers a day, and preach the weekly homily. They
are often, however, schoolmasters, professional
readers of the Koran, or poor students. They have
no authority over any one. They do not visit, or
exhort, or perform any rites. They do not live
apart or remain unmarried in order to devote
their whole time to the objects of professional
ambition, nor are they in any way tied indissolubly
to their religious profession, nor do they
arrogate to themselves any special infallibility
of interpreting the Koran, or regulating other
men's lives. The Mahomedan, in fact, is his
own priest, and pays nothing to any religious
teacher, trusting to the infallible Koran to guide
him, and giving his alms and performing his
pilgrimage unaided. The Imaun out of the
mosque wears no special dress, and is no one.
The people do not run to kiss his hand or his
robe, as the Russian peasants do to their own
brutally ignorant peasant priests. The mosques
are open from daybreak till after sunset.
Sometimes they are shut between the hours of prayer,
especially in dirty weather, when the building
might otherwise be polluted. Sometimes a
mosque is left open all night, except the maksoorah
or chancel, which is partitioned off. The
Mahomedan performs his ceremonies with just as much
unction in his own house as in the mosque. The
mosque is a place where the attendants work,
eat, sleep, and even live; and yet they venerate
the place of prayer in spite of what we should
consider an habitual desecration.

But to return to the service. The Tartars,
kneeling two deep, had now completed their
private prayers, and the old reader seated
himself in the old arm-chair, and began reciting from
memory, in Arabic, and with an abstracted air
and a low guttural voice, the Soorak-el-Kahf, or
eighteenth chapter of the Koran. Although
Arabic is a majestic language, every word seemed
to begin with a guttural in this chapter.

All at once he rose, and all the congregation
rose and began more rekahs. Down went all the
turbaned heads together, down at the same
moment in perfect unison; tap, tap, tap, went all the
foreheads. Then came the sermon. In Cairo, or
any city wrenched from the infidel, it is usual for
the preacher to hold a wooden sword, point
downward, in his hand, but in Moscow this ceremony
was omitted. The sermon I understood too little
Arabic to clearly follow. I gathered, however,
that it was a general exhortation to a better life,
garnished with Koran texts, abounding in
Oriental repetition, and not devoid of the exuberant
imagery of the East.

The concluding khutbeh, or bidding prayer, is,
however, always the same, and ends thus, as I
know from several Oriental travellers:

"Lord, we have acted unjustly towards our
own souls, and if thou do not forgive us and be
merciful unto us, we shall surely be of those
who perish. I beg of God the Great that he
may forgive me, and you, and all the people of
Mahomed, the servants of God. Verily God
commandeth justice and the doing of good, and
giveth what is due, and forbiddeth wickedness,
and iniquity, and oppression. He admonisheth
you that ye may reflect. Remember God—he
will remember you—and thank him—He will
increase your blessings. Praise be to God, the
Lord of all creatures!"

This having been said, all rose and bowed
their turbaned heads, held their open hands
before their eyes, drew them down their faces,
and slowly dispersed. The three Calenders
gathered up their rosaries from beside them;
Aladdin's eyes sparkled as he sprang gleefully to
his feet; Sinbad's persecutor shook his scented
robes and put on his shining papooshes; the poor
prisoner shrugged, writhed, and hung his head;
and the Moslem congregation dispersed.

It seemed so bright and golden coming out of
the porch into the glad sunshine, and the little
grass-flowers in the court-yard were vibrating in
the breeze with gratitude to God, and love to
their fellow-creature, man. One by one the
turbaned men in the striped silk caftans put
on their robes and slippers and passed through
the green door. And I could see here and there
at the villa windows, little shaven heads dancing
about with joy at the return of Father Abdallah
or Father Alee. And by the time when I, Herr
Schlafrig, the soldier, and our disreputable
mauvais sujet, name unknown, had reached the
bottom of the street, there was not a Tartar to
be seen.

                     NEW WORK BY MR. DICKENS,
    In Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of
                    "Pickwick," " Copperfleld," &c.
              Now publishing, PART VI., price 1s., of
                         OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.
                        BY CHARLES DICKENS.
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             With Illustrations by MARCUS STONE.
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