the expression of an idiot, repeated their master's final words and energetically beat upon their drums. Following this the exhorter called upon all his hearers to make a strict examination of their consciences, reminding them of the dire punishment of sin and the rewards of Paradise, this haven of eternal happiness. It was a prayer, a prophecy, a teaching, a menace and a dissemination of hope for the salvation of the soul, all crowded into one appeal.
Gradually the movements of the speaker grew quicker, more hypnotic and fanatical. Then suddenly he became still and silent, looking intently at his audience and finally fastening his eyes upon a single individual, seemingly peering down into his soul. Such must have been the gaze of the apostle John upon the woman who, according to the legend, boasted that she would entrance the Nazarene with her beauty and her passionate caresses but who, instead, fell to the earth and began to weep in despair while the crowd whispered in terror that the woman made a vain and sacrilegious boast and that it was not He, but John, His Beloved Disciple.
After another moment the inspired improvisations commenced anew, and then one could understand the way in which these mad Mahdis, now chiefs, now fanatical priests and prophets, hypnotized and led away after them whole tribes to the great and bloody work of Holy War. The whole mysticism of Islam, stem and powerful, lay bare before us. In this scene I realized the great difference between the Moslem mysticism and that of the Buddhists of Asia—here in Africa fire and an unaccountable transport of ecstasy, there is a conventional
