aloud, and groaning heavily. So I listened silently, and, behold, he was reciting these lines:
Does it grieve thee, the plaining of doves in the lote,[1]
And awaken bitter grief in thy breast?- ↑ The Sidr, or Lotus Tree. Rhamnus Lotus, Linnæus and Reichart. Zizyphus Lotus, Lamarck, Willdenow, Des fon-
of the Prophet's—'Between my tomb and my pulpit is a garden of the gardens of Paradise."—Vol. ii., p. 64. {{pbr} "The 'Garden' is the most elaborate part of the mosque. Little can be said in its praise by day, when it bears the same relation to a second-rate church in Rome as an English chapel-of-ease to Westminster Abbey. It is a space of about eighty feet in length, tawdrily decorated so as to resemble a garden. The carpets are flowered, and the pediments of the columns are cased with bright green tiles, and adorned to the height of a man with gaudy and unnatural vegetation in arabesque. It is disfigured by handsome branched candelabras of cut crystal, the work, I believe, of a London house, and presented to the shrine by the late Abbas Pacha of Egypt. The only admirable feature of the view is the light cast by the windows of stained glass in the southern wall. Its peculiar background, the railing of the tomb, a splendid filigreework of green and polished brass, gilt, or made to resemble gold, looks more picturesque near than at a distance, when it suggests the idea of a gigantic birdcage. But at night the eye, dazzled by oil-lamps suspended from the roof, by huge wax candles, and by smaller illuminations falling upon crowds of visitors in handsome attire, with the rich and the noblest of the city sitting in congregation when service is performed, becomes less critical. Still the scene must be viewed with a Moslem's spirit, and until a man is thoroughly imbued with the East, the last place the Rauzah will remind him of is that which the architect primarily intended it to resemble—a garden."—Vol. ii., p. 68.
