return to our occupations, that we may thus mingle labour with pleasure,
which would lose its zest by long continuance. After our work, we return
to the temple, to thank God, and to offer him incense. From thence we go
to the most delightful part of the garden, where we find three hundred
young girls, some of whom form lively dances with the younger of our
monks; the others execute serious dances, which require neither strength
nor agility, and which only keep time to the sound of musical
instruments.

We talk and laugh with our companions, who are dressed in a light gauze,
and whose tresses are adorned with flowers; we press them to partake of
exquisite sherbets, differently prepared. The hour of supper being
arrived, we repair to rooms illuminated with the lustre of a thousand
tapers fragrant with amber. The supper-room is surrounded by three vast
galleries, in which are placed musicians, whose various instruments fill
the mind with the most pleasurable and the softest emotions. The young
girls are seated at table with us, and, towards the conclusion of the
repast, they sing songs, which are hymns in honour of the God who has
endowed us with senses which shed such a charm over existence, and which
promise us new pleasure from every fresh exercise of them. After the
repast is ended, we return to the dance, and, when the hour of repose
arrives, we draw from a kind of lottery, in which every one is sure of a
prize; that is, a young girl as his companion for the night. They are
allotted thus by chance, in order to avoid jealousy, and to prevent
exclusive attachments. Thus ends the day, and gives place to a night of
delights, which we sanctify by enjoying with due relish that sweetest of
all pleasures, which Faraki has so wisely attached to the reproduction of
our species. We reverently admire the wisdom and the goodness of Faraki,
who, desiring to secure to the world a continued population, has
implanted in the sexes an invincible mutual attraction, which constantly