The Sheikh, or leader of the community, sits in front of the Mihrab, on an Angora goat-skin, or a carpet, attended by two of his disciples. An attenuated old man, with a visage furrowed and withered by time, bronzed by many successive suns, his long and grizzly beard witnessing to the ravages of age, while his prominent eyes sparkling like lightnings amid the surrounding darkness, are the only symbols of animation or life, in his worn-out frame. The dervishes, as they enter, make a low obeisance with folded hands to this patron saint, with an air of mystic veneration, and take their stand with their faces towards Mecca. The old sheikh arises, and presiding over the assembly commences the services. Their peculiar head-gear, called sikké, of thick brown felt, in the shape of a sugar loaf, and long and flowing robes of varied hues, make them seem like fantastic representations of some other sphere, particularly, when they commence the slow and measured prostrations of Mussulman worship. Prayers being over, each dervish doffs his mantle, and appears in a long white fustanella, trailing the polished floor, and of innumerable folds, with a tightly fitting vest of the same pure color. They now defile two by two before the sheikh, who extending his hand towards them, seems to diffuse a sort of magnetism, which irradiates every countenance. As they stand immovable, the wild and thrilling music slowly pervades every sense, until suddenly one of the number extends his arms, and begins to revolve noiselessly, with slow and measured step. The folds of his ample skirt now gradually open like the wings of a bird, and with the swiftness of his motion, expand, until the dervish only appears like the centre of a whirlwind. The rest are all alike in motion, arms extended, eyes half closed as in a dream, the head inclined on one side, they move round and round to the measured time of the music, as if floating in ecstasy. The calm and unimpassioned chief, with slow and stealthy step, wanders among their evolutions. Suddenly they cease, and march around the circle. The music increases its measure, and the dervishes again commence their giddy motions; old and young seem to be in a visionary rhapsody. Perhaps transported in the bewildering whirl to the regions of the blest, they languish with rapture in the arms of the houris of Paradise; or lose their earthly senses amid the glories which surround the throne of Allah; till suddenly they stand transfixed, their outspread and snowy drapery folding around them like the marble investment of an antique statue. They are all prostrated, exhausted by their ecstasies, and immovable, until the sheikh recalls them to the realities of time by his holy benediction, when they slowly rise again, compass the building, and enveloping themselves with their cast-off mantles, silently disappear. HOWLING DERVISHES.