By the Way 157 



and it was about the time when I expected my 

 guests to take their departure, one of them in- 

 timated that among his retainers, who, after the 

 usual custom, were guests in my servants' quar- 

 ters, was a ghulam who was without rival in his 

 rendering of the camel-driver's song. If permis- 

 sion were given, he would be summoned. He 

 duly put in an appearance and started his song, 

 loud and resonant but full of a wild melancholy. 

 After it had been going on for a very long time, 

 it occurred to me that this was a sarwaris song, 

 one that begins when he starts a march and only 

 ends when he gets to its conclusion. The Persians 

 had closed their eyes and swayed and nodded in 

 rapture or sleep. Some had removed their hats, 

 and all had the demeanour of men settling them- 

 selves down to some hours' solid enjoyment. The 

 singer, too, was evidently a stayer. Heaven only 

 knows, I thought, what the length of this march 

 will be, on which I have embarked so light- 

 heartedly ! I suppose my Persian major-domo, 

 whilst handing round the relays of liqueurs, 

 divined something of my feelings, for having 

 caught my eye he disappeared, and we could 

 scarcely have traversed another half farsakh of 

 that long night march before he reappeared, and 

 with a tray of coffee cups ! After all, I said to 



