virtue than a thousand in other places, save only the Masjid El Haram."
Once at Medina, how could the pilgrim refuse his presence, if not his
tears, at El Kuba, forever sacred to the Mohammedan heart as the first
place of public prayer in Islam? Finally, it should not be forgotten that
the year we write of belonged to a cycle when readers of the Koran and
worshippers at Mecca were more numerous than now, if not more zealous and
believing. And it was to witness the passing of this procession, so
numerous, so motley, so strangely furnished, so uncontrolled except as it
pleased, the Prince of India was seated at the door of his tent upon the
hill. Long before the spectacle was sighted in the distance, its approach
was announced by an overhanging pillar of cloud, not unlike that which
went before the Israelites in their exodus through similar wastes.
Shortly after the interview with the Emir, the Prince, looking under the
pillar, saw a darkening line appear, not more at first than a thread
stretched across a section of the east.

The apparition was without a break; nor might he have said it was in
motion or of any depth. A sound came from the direction not unlike that
of a sibilant wind. Presently out of the perspective, which reduced the
many to one and all sizes to a level, the line developed into unequal
divisions, with intervals between them; about the same time the noise
became recognizable as the voices fiercely strained and inarticulate of
an innumerable host of men. Then the divisions broke into groups, some
larger than others; a little later individuals became discernible;
finally what had appeared a line resolved itself into a convulsing mass,
without front, without wings, but of a depth immeasurable.

The pilgrims did not attempt to keep the road; having converted their
march into a race, they spread right and left over the country, each
seeking a near way; sometimes the object was attained, sometimes not;