We have had several--revolutions--religious ones, I mean of course, and so many people have been killed that there is a savour of death in the air.

It is amazing how much trouble people will give themselves about the question of sacrificing a horse to the sun, or a calf to Auramazda, or an Ethiopian to Nabon or Ashtaroth! And these Magians! They are really no more descendants of the priests in the Aryan home than I am a Greek.

Half of them are nearly black--they are Hindus and speak Persian with an accent.

They believe in a vast number of gods of all sizes and descriptions, and they sing hymns, in which they say that all these gods are the same.

It is most confusing, and as the principal part of their chief sacrifice consists in making themselves exceedingly drunk with the detestable milkweed juice of which they are so fond, the performance is disgusting.