AT dawn on the id al-Kurban (10th Zu’l Hijjah, Wednesday, 14th September) a gun warned us to lose no time; we arose hurriedly, and started up the Batn Muhassir to Muna. By this means we lost at Muzdalifah the “Salat al-id,” or “Festival Prayers,” the great solemnity of the Moslem year, performed by all the community at daybreak. My companion was so anxious to reach Meccah, that he would not hear of devotions. About eight A.M. we entered the village, and looked for the boy Mohammed in vain. Old Ali was dreadfully perplexed; a host of high-born Turkish pilgrims were, he said, expecting him; his mule was missing — could never appear — he must be late — should probably never reach Meccah — what would become of him? I began by administering admonition to the mind diseased; but signally failing in a cure, I amused myself with contemplating the world from my Shugduf, leaving the office of directing it to the old Zemzemi. Now he stopped, then he pressed forward; here he thought he saw Mohammed, there he discovered our tent; at one time he would “nakh” the camel to await, in patience, his supreme hour; at another, half mad with nervousness, he would urge the excellent Mas’ud to hopeless inquiries. Finally, by good fortune, we found one of the boy Mohammed’s cousins, who led us to an enclosure called Hosh al-Uzam, in the Southern portion of the Muna Basin, at the base of Mount Sabir.1 There we pitched the tent, refreshed ourselves, and awaited the truant’s return. Old Ali, failing to disturb my equanimity, attempted, as those who consort with philosophers often will do, to quarrel with me. But, finding no material wherewith to build a dispute in such fragments as “Ah!”—“Hem!”—“Wallah!” he hinted desperate intentions against the boy Mohammed. When, however, the youth appeared, with even more jauntiness of mien than usual, Ali bin Ya Sin lost heart, brushed by him, mounted his mule, and, doubtless cursing us “under the tongue,” rode away, frowning viciously, with his heels playing upon the beast’s ribs.

Mohammed had been delayed, he said, by the difficulty of finding asses. We were now to mount for “the Throwing,2” as a preliminary to which we washed “with seven waters” the seven pebbles brought from Muzdalifah, and bound them in our Ihrams. Our first destination was the entrance to the western end of the long line which composes the Muna village. We found a swarming crowd in the narrow road opposite the “Jamrat al-Akabah,3” or, as it is vulgarly called, the Shaytan al-Kabir — the “Great Devil.” These names distinguish it from another pillar, the “Wusta,” or “Central Place,” (of stoning,) built in the middle of Muna, and a third at the eastern end, “Al-Aula,” or the “First Place.4” The “Shaytan al-Kabir” is a dwarf buttress of rude masonry, about eight feet high by two and a half broad, placed against a rough wall of stones at the Meccan entrance to Muna. As the ceremony of “Ramy,” or Lapidation, must be performed on the first day by all pilgrims between sunrise and sunset, and as the fiend was malicious enough to appear in a rugged Pass,5 the crowd makes the place dangerous. On one side of the road, which is not forty feet broad, stood a row of shops belonging principally to barbers. On the other side is the rugged wall against which the pillar stands, with a chevaux de frise of Badawin and naked boys. The narrow space was crowded with pilgrims, all struggling like drowning men to approach as near as possible to the Devil; it would have been easy to run over the heads of the mass. Amongst them were horsemen with rearing chargers. Badawin on wild camels, and grandees on mules and asses, with outrunners, were breaking a way by assault and battery. I had read Ali Bey’s self-felicitations upon escaping this place with “only two wounds in the left leg,” and I had duly provided myself with a hidden dagger. The precaution was not useless. Scarcely had my donkey entered the crowd than he was overthrown by a dromedary, and I found myself under the stamping and roaring beast’s stomach. Avoiding being trampled upon by a judicious use of the knife, I lost no time in escaping from a place so ignobly dangerous. Some Moslem travellers assert, in proof of the sanctity of the spot, that no Moslem is ever killed here: Meccans assured me that accidents are by no means rare.

Presently the boy Mohammed fought his way out of the crowd with a bleeding nose. We both sat down upon a bench before a barber’s booth, and, schooled by adversity, awaited with patience an opportunity. Finding an opening, we approached within about five cubits of the place, and holding each stone between the thumb and the forefinger6 of the right hand, we cast it at the pillar, exclaiming, “In the name of Allah, and Allah is Almighty! (I do this) in Hatred of the Fiend and to his Shame.” After which came the Tahlil and the “Sana,” or praise to Allah. The seven stones being duly thrown, we retired, and entering the barber’s booth, took our places upon one of the earthern benches around it. This was the time to remove the Ihram or pilgrim’s garb, and to return to Ihlal, the normal state of Al-Islam. The barber shaved our heads,7 and, after trimming our beards and cutting our nails, made us repeat these words: “I purpose loosening my Ihram according to the Practice of the Prophet, Whom may Allah bless and preserve! O Allah, make unto me in every Hair, a Light, a Purity, and a generous Reward! In the name of Allah, and Allah is Almighty!” At the conclusion of his labour, the barber politely addressed to us a “Na’iman — Pleasure to you!” To which we as ceremoniously replied, “Allah give thee pleasure!” We had no clothes with us, but we could use our cloths to cover our heads, and slippers to defend our feet from the fiery sun; and we now could safely twirl our mustachios and stroke our beards — placid enjoyments of which we had been deprived by the Laws of Pilgrimage. After resting about an hour in the booth, which, though crowded with sitting customers, was delightfully cool compared with the burning glare of the road, we mounted our asses, and at eleven A.M. we started Meccah-wards.

This return from Muna to Meccah is called Al-Nafr, or the Flight8: we did not fail to keep our asses at speed, with a few halts to refresh ourselves with gugglets of water. There was nothing remarkable in the scene: our ride in was a repetition of our ride out. In about half an hour we entered the city, passing through that classical locality called “Batn Kuraysh,” which was crowded with people, and then we repaired to the boy Mohammed’s house for the purpose of bathing and preparing to visit the Ka’abah.

Shortly after our arrival, the youth returned home in a state of excitement, exclaiming, “Rise, Effendi! dress and follow me!” The Ka’abah, though open, would for a time be empty, so that we should escape the crowd. My pilgrim’s garb, which had not been removed, was made to look neat and somewhat Indian, and we sallied forth together without loss of time.

A crowd had gathered round the Ka’abah, and I had no wish to stand bareheaded and barefooted in the midday September sun. At the cry of “Open a path for the Haji who would enter the House,” the gazers made way. Two stout Meccans, who stood below the door, raised me in their arms, whilst a third drew me from above into the building. At the entrance I was accosted by several officials, dark-looking Meccans, of whom the blackest and plainest was a youth of the Benu Shaybah family,9 the sangre-azul of Al-Hijaz. He held in his hand the huge silver-gilt padlock of the Ka’abah,10 and presently taking his seat upon a kind of wooden press in the left corner of the hall, he officially inquired my name, nation, and other particulars. The replies were satisfactory, and the boy Mohammed was authoritatively ordered to conduct me round the building, and to recite the prayers. I will not deny that, looking at the windowless walls, the officials at the door, and the crowd of excited fanatics below —

“And the place death, considering who I was,”11

my feelings were of the trapped-rat description, acknowledged by the immortal nephew of his uncle Perez. This did not, however, prevent my carefully observing the scene during our long prayers, and making a rough plan with a pencil upon my white Ihram.

Nothing is more simple than the interior of this celebrated building. The pavement, which is level with the ground, is composed of slabs of fine and various coloured marbles, mostly, however, white, disposed chequerwise. The walls, as far as they can be seen, are of the same material, but the pieces are irregularly shaped, and many of them are engraved with long inscriptions in the Suls and other modern characters. The upper part of the walls, together with the ceiling, at which it is considered disrespectful to look,12 are covered with handsome red damask, flowered over with gold,13 and tucked up about six feet high, so as to be removed from pilgrims’ hands. The flat roof is upheld by three cross-beams, whose shapes appear under the arras; they rest upon the eastern and western walls, and are supported in the centre by three columns14 about twenty inches in diameter, covered with carved and ornamented aloes wood.15 At the Iraki corner there is a dwarf door, called Bab al-Taubah (of Repentance).16 It leads into a narrow passage and to the staircase by which the servants ascend to the roof: it is never opened except for working purposes. The “Aswad” or “As’ad17” corner is occupied by a flat-topped and quadrant-shaped press or safe,18 in which at times is placed the key of the Ka’abah.19 Both door and safe are of aloes wood. Between the columns, and about nine feet from the ground, ran bars of a metal which I could not distinguish, and hanging to them were many lamps, said to be of gold.

Although there were in the Ka’abah but a few attendants engaged in preparing it for the entrance of pilgrims,20 the windowless stone walls and the choked-up door made it worse than the Piombi of Venice; perspiration trickled in large drops, and I thought with horror what it must be when filled with a mass of furiously jostling and crushing fanatics. Our devotions consisted of a two-bow prayer,21 followed by long supplications at the Shami (West) corner, the Iraki (north) angle, the Yamani (south), and, lastly, opposite the southern third of the back wall.22 These concluded, I returned to the door, where payment is made. The boy Mohammed told me that the total expense would be seven dollars. At the same time he had been indulging aloud in his favourite rhodomontade, boasting of my greatness, and had declared me to be an Indian pilgrim, a race still supposed at Meccah to be made of gold.23 When seven dollars were tendered, they were rejected with instance. Expecting something of the kind, I had been careful to bring no more than eight. Being pulled and interpellated by half a dozen attendants, my course was to look stupid, and to pretend ignorance of the language. Presently the Shaybah youth bethought him of a contrivance. Drawing forth from the press the key of the Ka’abah, he partly bared it of its green-silk gold-lettered etui,24 and rubbed a golden knob quartrefoil-shaped upon my eyes, in order to brighten them. I submitted to the operation with a good grace, and added a dollar — my last — to the former offering. The Sharif received it with a hopeless glance, and, to my satisfaction, would not put forth his hand to be kissed. Then the attendants began to demand vails I replied by opening my empty pouch. When let down from the door by the two brawny Meccans, I was expected to pay them, and accordingly appointed to meet them at the boy Mohammed’s house; an arrangement to which they grumblingly asse............