"
Koete is about a mile long, and a quarter of a mile broad. The houses
are built of mud and stone, and flat roofed with the trunk of the date
tree. Around it is a wall, beyond which nothing is to be seen but a vast
sandy plain, extending more than sixty miles. Within the walls, it is
equally sterile, it literally yields _nothing_; here, "all _is_ barren,"
and the water is far from sweet, yet 4,000 souls live, though the sheikh
keeps up no standing army. Mr. S. sails thence into the _Shut-ul-Arab_,
[River of the Arabs,] the banks of which are more delightful than those
of the Thames at Richmond.
At Bussorah--a _bain a la Turque_.)
Entering the hummaum, I found myself suddenly in an apartment resembling
a vaulted cellar, dimly lighted by small apertures, and glazed
sky-lights in the dome. Stone and brick benches, covered with cloths and
coarse carpets, were ranged along the walls, and there was a fireplace
where coffee and chibouks were prepared, and cloths dried. Having been
required to strip, and a cloth tied round my waist, I was led into a
second apartment filled with steam, and of so high a temperature, that
in one instant I lost my breath, and in the next was streaming from
every pore.
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