the ground and is reached by a flight of steps.  The inside plan of the building resembles a circular gridiron gradually depressed toward the center, at which there is a pit, five feet in diameter.  From this pit cement walks radiate like the spokes of a wheel, and between them are three series of compartments extending around the entire tower.  Those nearest the center are about four feet long, two feet wide and six inches deep.  The next series are a little larger, and the third, larger still, and they are intended respectively for men, women and children.

When the bearers have brought the body into the anteroom of the tower they strip it entirely of its clothing.  Valuable coverings are carefully laid away and sent to the chamber of purification, where they are thoroughly fumigated, and afterward returned to the friends.  The cotton wrappings are burned.  The body is laid in one of the compartments entirely naked, and in half an hour the flesh is completely stripped from the bones by voracious birds that have been eagerly watching the proceedings from the tops of the tall palms that overlook the cemetery.  There are about two hundred vultures around the place; most of them are old birds and are thoroughly educated.  They know exactly what to expect, and behave with greatest decorum.  They never enter the tower until the bearers have left it, and usually are as deliberate and solemn in their movements as a lot of undertakers.  But sometimes, when they are particularly hungry, their greed gets the better of their dignity and they quarrel and fight over their prey.

After the bones are stripped they are allowed to lie in the sun and bleach and decay until the compartment they occupy is needed for another body, when the Nasr Salars enter with gloves and tongs and cast them into the central pit, where they finally crumble into dust.  The floor of the tower is so arranged that all the rain that falls upon it passes into the pit, and the moisture promotes decomposition.  The bottom of the pit is perforated and the water impregnated with the dust from the bones is filtered through charcoal and becomes thoroughly disinfected before it is allowed to pass through a sewer into the bay.  The pits are the receptacles of the dust of generations, and I am told that so much of it is drained off by the rainfall, as described, that they have never been filled.  The carriers are not allowed to leave the grounds, and when a man engages in that occupation he must retire forever from the world, as much as if he were a Trappist monk.  Nor can he communicate with anyone except the priests who have charge of the temple.