On a portion of this pavement, raised above the rest, stood the priests, some wearing ostrich-feathers on their bald and shining heads; others panther-skins over their white-robed shoulders.
Muttering and singing, bowing low and rising again, they swung the censers and poured libations of pure water to the gods out of golden vessels.

In this immense temple man seemed a dwarf in his own eyes.

All his senses even to the organs of respiration, were occupied by objects far removed from daily life, objects that thrilled and almost oppressed him.

Snatched from all that was familiar in his daily existence, he seemed to grow dizzy and seek support beyond himself.

To this the voice of the priests directed him and the cries of the sacred animals were believed to prove a divinity at hand.
Psamtik assumed the posture of a worshipper on the low, gilded and cushioned couch set apart for him, but was unable to pay any real devotion, and passed on to the adjoining apartment before mentioned, where the sacred cows of Isis-Neith and the sparrow-hawk of Horus were kept.