Neither
is the term pilgrimage characteristic of the journey, which has the
sketchiness and levity of a flying tour rather than the observant
gravity of a patient pilgrimage. Nevertheless, the work is altogether
full of vivacity and interest, and the author, Mr. J.H. Stocqueler, must
be as pleasant on his travels, as his book will be in our hands.
Crossing from Bombay, the author reached Muscat in eleven days. Here,
with his host, Reuben, he paid his respects to his highness the Imaum,
whose court is a curiosity.)
The Imaum's palace was close to the water's edge in front of the town,
and his highness received Reuben and myself in an arbour or veranda open
to the sea. At the entrance to the veranda stood several well dressed
Arabs armed with sword, spear, and dagger, and half a dozen dirty
looking Abyssinians clothed somewhat like the sepoys in our Indian army,
and equipped much after the same fashion. These latter, as I understood,
were paraded in honour of my visit; and indeed generally form the _garde
du corps_ on occasions of an Englishman's presentation at the _Court of
Muscat_. The Imaum rose on our entrance and accommodated us with chairs,
and after we had been served with some insipid sherbet, addressed
himself to me on the subject of my journey, its object and direction;
and then touched on the politics of Europe.
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