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.