This rude hookah is half filled with water; the dried hemp in the
bowl is covered with what Syrians call a "Kurs," a bit of metal
about the size of half-a-crown, and upon it rests the fire. I at
once recognized the implement in the Brazil, where many slave-
holders simply supposed it to be a servile and African form of
tobacco-pipe. After a few puffs the eyes redden, a violent cough
is caused by the acrid fumes tickling the throat; the brain,
whirls with a pleasant swimming, like that of chloroform, and the
smoker finds himself in gloria. My Spanish friends at Po tried
but did not like it. I can answer for the hemp being stronger
than the Egyptian hashish or the bhang of Hindostan; it rather
resembled the Fasukh of Northern Africa, the Dakha and Motukwane
of the southern regions, and the wild variety called in Sind
"Bang i Jabali."
The religion of African races is ever interesting to those of a
maturer faith; it is somewhat like the study of childhood to an
old man. The Jew, the high-caste Hindu, and the Guebre, the
Christian and the Moslem have their Holy Writs, their fixed forms
of thought and worship, in fact their grooves in which belief
runs.
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