There were perfumes imprisoned in delicate globules which might be thrown upon the hair and clothing of the guests of the household; the globules thus broken would release their contents to the guests' great delight; pots of incense from the far East, so deep and rich in their Oriental perfumes that their odors would cause the occupants of the chambers where they were released to travel in their imaginations through the lands of the Yellow River and the distant Ind, and in deep reveries the dreamer would hear the low, continuous chanting of white-bearded priests, punctuated by the clash of scimitars upon brazen shields, the stolid "chock" of bullock-carts and the jingle of the ropes of bells on the trappings of swaying elephants as they moved in long procession through narrow overhung streets.
The Wayfaring Man: a tale of the Temple
By George Estes

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