This led him to inquire if I had any medicine for the
eyes, and
[p.161]being answered in the affirmative, he sent a messenger with me
to enforce obedience on the part of the porter. The obnoxious measure
was, however, unnecessary. As we entered the Caravanserai, there
appeared at the door the black face of Shaykh Nur, looking, though
accompanied by sundry fellow-countrymen, uncommonly as if he merited
and expected the bamboo. He had, by his own account, been seduced into
the festivities of a coal-hulk, manned by Lascars, and the vehemence of
his self-accusation saved him from the chastisement which I had
determined to administer.
I must now briefly describe the party of Meccah and Madinah men into
which fate threw me: their names will so frequently appear in the
following pages, that a few words about their natures will not be
misplaced.
First of all comes Omar Effendi,-so called in honour,-a Daghistani or
East-Circassian, the grandson of a Hanafi Mufti at Al-Madinah, and the
son of a Shaykh Rakb, an officer whose duty it is to lead
dromedary-caravans. He sits upon his cot, a small, short, plump body,
of yellow complexion and bilious temperament, grey-eyed, soft-featured,
and utterly beardless,-which affects his feelings,-he looks fifteen,
and he owns to twenty-eight. His manners are those of a student; he
dresses respectably, prays regularly, hates the fair sex, like an Arab,
whose affections and aversions are always in extremes; is "serious,"
has a mild demeanour, an humble gait, and a soft, slow voice.
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