380 JOURNEYS IN KURDISTAN LETTER xxxm

not a gallery a space is railed off for the women. The
prayers are mumbled by priests in dirty vestments, while
the women knit and chatter. Candle-grease, dust, and
dirt abound. There is such an air of indifference about
priests and people that one asks what motive it is which
impels them to leave their warm stable dwellings ^ on
these winter mornings to shiver in a dark and chilly
church. They say, " We will tread the paths our fathers
trod; they are quite good enough for us." Two nights
ago, in an odah full of men, the Kurdish Jchanji, at the
canonical hour, fell down on his forehead at prayer in
the midst of us, all daggers, pistols, and finery as he was.
In which case is the worship most ignorant, I wonder ?

I. L. B.