228 ROUGHING IT IN SOUTHERN INDIA 



of lapis-1 azuli and marbles in minutest pieces which formerly- 

 adorned them, for many of them have fallen out with the 

 lapse of ages — the tombs being coeval with the Pharaohs — 

 many more have been knocked out by unscrupulous tourists. 



Every one has seen pictures of these grand tombs sur- 

 rounding the great mosque, with their symmetry of polished 

 dome and gilded minaret. Yet it is not so much for the 

 beauty of the tombs that I remember Golconda, as for the 

 grand old priest standing at his place in the centre of the 

 mosque, the Koran supported before him. 



That ancient man, garbed in a long straight-falling white 

 robe and heavy turban, with his snowy beard waving to 

 his waist, and his features brown and chiselled, was one's 

 ideal of a patriarch of old — a very Abraham. That 

 name in its Eastern form of Ibrahim is to this day most 

 usual. 



We had removed our shoes as requested on entering the 

 vestibule of the mosque, and that venerable figure turned 

 to greet us. His great horn spectacles, with shrewd, kindly 

 eyes behind them, suited his face, in the lofty expression of 

 which there was simplicity and dignity, combined with the 

 calm of a deep thinker and scholar. I shall never forget 

 him. 



Keeping a long patrician forefinger at the place in his 

 book, he spoke to us in English as ready as our own. I 

 had noticed that there were two books, one within the 

 other. The great one was the Koran, bound in white vellum ; 

 the other — and it gave me a distinct shock — was a novel of 

 Miss Braddon's ! Several of us had seen this, and our eyes 

 met each other's ; they also met those of the old gentleman, 

 for he smiled, and said he was enjoying it. ' Had we read 

 it ? ' He then turned round and read aloud a paragraph 

 in good, if careful, English in the sonorous, musical tone of 

 his race. He told us that he wearied of reading the Koran, 

 knowing it by heart as he did, and that he could always 



