On this are arranged all the glass and crockery that the prince possesses, and all he can borrow by hook or by crook, all his mirrors, lamps, and chandeliers, and the whole are set off by rows of brass candle-lamps hired from the bazaar, the general effect being that of a very miscellaneous broker’s shop. Considerable care is, however, devoted to this display, and its grandeur, or the reverse, is one of the subjects of town talk for a week. The women having been crowding in from an early hour, the wives of the grandees and officials are accommodated with seats with the princess and her ladies, while the less favoured have places retained for them in good situations by their servants, and according to rank. As noon approaches every seat is taken, and the stage surrounded on all sides by a sea of faces, a path being, however, left all round it for the processions to advance and make the circuit of the stage. All being now ready the band plays a march, a gun is discharged, and the Prince-Governor takes his place at his window. A priest now ascends the pulpit, on the steps of which others are seated, while a crowd of lesser moollahs squat at the base. In a clear voice, every word of which is plainly heard in this assembly of many thousands, the priest recites the facts of the death of Houssein and Hassan. At the mention of these names the audience become overwhelmed with grief, and, baring their breasts, smite them, crying, “Ai Houssein, Wai Houssein, Ai Houssein jahn!” (“Oh, Houssein, Woe for Houssein, Oh, dear Houssein!”) or at times join in the choruses led by organised mourners, who, with clenched fist or open hand, strike their breasts simultaneously at each mention of the names Houssein Hassan, Houssein Hassan, till they are out of breath, and their crimson and bruised chests force them to desist, with one final shout or shriek of “Houssein.” Half-a-dozen volunteers (these generally dervishes), as the sainted names are pronounced by the hundreds of voices, strike themselves over each shoulder with heavy chains. All the beholders are gradually worked up into a state of excitement and enthusiasm, and the descriptions of the saints and their children’s sufferings make even the heart of the European listener sad. And now a curious chant in honour of the king is sung by a band of youths; after this the priests leave the stage, and the professional exponents of the drama make their appearance dressed to sustain the characters of the day. Small boys, chosen for their clear and sympathetic voices, from among the singers of the town, sustain the little parts of the granddaughters and grandsons of the prophet. The wives are veiled, and these characters are played by bearded men, as are the angels and prophets, who are also veiled by glittering handkerchiefs.