As a contrast to this gay scene, Madame Pfeiffer describes the performance of the wretched fanatics called fakeers.  These men inflict upon themselves the most extraordinary tortures.  Thus:  they stick an iron hook through their flesh, and allow themselves to be suspended by it at a height of twenty or five-and-twenty feet. {105} Or for long hours they stand upon one foot in the burning sunshine, with their arms rigidly extended in the air.  Or they hold heavy weights in various positions, swing round and round for hours together, and tear the flesh from their bodies with red-hot pincers.  Madame Pfeiffer saw two of these unfortunate victims of a diseased imagination.  One held a heavy axe over his head, in the attitude of a workman bent on felling a tree; in this position he stood, rigid as a statue.  The other held the point of his toe to his nose.

* * * * *

In her tour through India our traveller passed through Allahabad, situated at the junction of the Jumna and the Ganges, and the resort of many pilgrims; Agra, where she admired, as so many travellers have admired, the lovely Taj-Mahal, erected by the Sultan Jehan in memory of his favourite wife,—­and the Pearl Mosque, with its exquisitely delicate carving; Delhi, the ancient capital of the Moguls, which figured so conspicuously in the history of the Sepoy rebellion; the cave-temples of Ajunta and Ellora; and the great commercial emporium of Bombay.

Quitting the confines of British India, Madame Pfeiffer, ever in quest of the new and strange, sailed to Bassora, and ascended the historic Tigris, so named from the swiftness of its course, to Bagdad, that quaint, remote Oriental city, which is associated with so many wonderful legends and not less wonderful “travellers’ tales.”  This was of old the residence of the great caliph, Haroun-al-Raschid, a ruler of no ordinary sagacity, and the hero of many a tradition, whom “The Thousand and One Nights” have made familiar to every English boy.  It is still a populous and wealthy city; many of its houses are surrounded by blooming gardens; its shops are gay with the products of the Eastern loom; and it descends in terraces to the bank of the river, which flows in the shade of orchards and groves of palm.  Over all extends the arch of a glowing sky.

From Bagdad an excursion to the ruins of Babylon is natural enough.  They consist of massive fragments of walls and columns, strewn on either side of the Euphrates.

[Cave temple at Ellora:  page107.jpg]

On the 17th of June our heroic traveller joined a caravan which was bound for Mosul, a distance of three hundred miles, occupying from twelve to fourteen days.  The journey is one of much difficulty and no little danger, across a desert country of the most lifeless character.  We shall relate a few of Madame Pfeiffer’s experiences.

One day she repaired to a small village in search of food.  After wandering from hut to hut, she obtained a small quantity of milk and three eggs.  She laid the eggs in hot ashes, and covered them over; filled her leathern flask from the Tigris; and, thus loaded, returned to the encampment formed by the caravan.  She ate her eggs and drank her milk with an appetite for which an epicure would be thankful.