looked very pretty and delicate, so that I really thought they were girls.  The dance itself is very monotonous, slow, and wearisome; it consists only of some steps to and fro, accompanied by some rather indecorous movements of the upper part of the body.  These gestures are said to be very difficult, as the dancer must stand perfectly still, and only move the upper part of his person.  The music consisted of a tambourine, a flageolet, and a bagpipe.  Much has been written concerning the indecency of these dances; but I am of opinion that many of our ballets afford much greater cause of complaint.  It may, however, be that other dances are performed of which the general public are not allowed to be spectators; but I only speak of what is done openly.  I would also by far prefer a popular festival in the East to a fair in our highly-civilised states.  The Oriental feasts were to me a source of much enjoyment, for the people always behaved most decorously.  They certainly shouted, and pushed, and elbowed each other like an European mob; but no drunken men were to be seen, and it was very seldom that a serious quarrel occurred.  The commonest man, too, would never think of offering an insult to one of the opposite sex.  I should feel no compunction in sending a young girl to this festival, though I should never think of letting her go to the fair held at Vienna on St. Bridget’s day.

The people were assembled in vast numbers, and the crowd was very great, yet we could pass every where on our donkeys.

At about three o’clock my servant sought out an elevated place for me, for the great spectacle was soon to come, and the crushing and bustle had already reached their highest pitch.  At length a portly priest could be descried riding along on a splendid horse; before him marched eight or ten dervishes with flags flying, and behind him a number of men, among whom were also many dervishes.  In the midst of the square the procession halted; a few soldiers pushed their way among the people, whom they forced to stand back and leave a road.  Whenever the spectators did not obey quickly, a stick was brought into action, which soon established order in a most satisfactory manner.

The procession now moved on once more, the standard-bearers and dervishes making all kinds of frantic gestures, as though they had just escaped from a madhouse.  On reaching the place where the spectators formed a lane, the dervishes and several other men threw themselves down with their faces to the ground in a long row, with their heads side by side.  And then—­oh horror!—­the priest rode over the backs of these miserable men as upon a bridge.  Then they all sprang up again as though nothing had happened, and rejoined the advancing train with their former antics and grimaces.  One man stayed behind, writhing to and fro as if his back had been broken, but in a few moments’ time he went away as unconcernedly as his comrades.  Each of the actors in this scene considers himself extremely fortunate in having attained to such a distinction, and this feeling even extends to his relations and friends.