"The natural shape of these monsters," said Hajee Hoosein, "is terrible; but they can assume those of animals, such as cows or camels, or whatever they choose, often appearing to men as their relations or friends, and then they do not only transform their shapes, but their voices also are altered. The frightful screams and yells, which are often heard amid these dreaded ravines, are changed for the softest and most melodious notes; unwary travellers, deluded by the appearance of friends, or captivated by the forms, and charmed by the music, of these demons, are allured from their path, and after feasting for a few hours on every luxury, are consigned to destruction. "The number of these ghools," said the Hajee, "has greatly decreased since the birth of the prophet, and they have no power to hurt those who pronounce his name in sincerity of faith. But, what is that?" said he, spurring his horse, and upsetting the top of the kullean which he had in his hand, while he repeated aloud the name of Mahomet, which now resounded through the line. I was myself not a little startled at seeing a camel, which is one of the shapes the ghools take, but found, on recovering from my momentary alarm, that it was one of our own, which, trying to pass a little to the right of our path, had fallen over a precipice with its load. When the Hajee rejoined me, he was far from being convinced that the camel which had fallen was the same he had at first seen. "It was probable," he said, "that a ghool, by the shape he assumed, had enticed our animal to follow him, and the latter would certainly have been lost but for my presence of mind and timely exclamations. These creatures," he added, "are the very lowest of the supernatural world, and, besides being timid, are extremely stupid, and consequently often imposed upon by artful men. I will recount you," he said, "a story that is well authenticated, to prove that what I say is just." I told him I was all attention, and he commenced his tale. "You know," said he, "that the natives of Isfahan, though not brave, are the most crafty and acute people upon earth, and often supply the want of courage by their address. An inhabitant of that city was once compelled to travel alone at night through this dreadful valley. He was a man of ready wit, and fond of adventures, and, though no lion, had great confidence in his cunning, which had brought him through a hundred scrapes and perils that would have embarrassed or destroyed your simple man of valour.