Here Also We Looked Into A Window Instead Of
Opening The Door With A Silver Key, And The Mesquin Appearance Of All
Within Prevented My Regretting The Necessity Of Economy.
In India or in
Sind every village would have a better Mosque.
Our last visit was to a
fourth chapel, the Masjid Ali, so termed because the Apostle's
son-in-law had a house upon this spot.[FN#25] After praying there-and
terribly hot the little hole was!-we repaired to the last place of
visitation at Kuba-a large deep well called the Bir al-Aris, in a
garden to the West of the Mosque of Piety, with a little oratory
adjoining it. A Persian wheel was going drowsily round, and the cool
water fell into a tiny pool, whence it whirled and bubbled away in
childish mimicry of a river. The music sounded sweet in my ears; I
stubbornly refused to do any more praying-though Shaykh Hamid, for
form's sake, reiterated with parental emphasis, "how very wrong it
was,"-and I sat down, as the Prophet himself did not disdain to do,
with the resolution of enjoying on the brink of the well a few moments
of unwonted "Kayf." The heat was overpowering, though it was only nine
o'clock, the sound of the stream was soothing, that water-wheel was
creaking a lullaby, and the limes and pomegranates, gently rustling,
shed voluptuous fragrance through the morning air. I fell asleep,
and-wondrous the contrast!-dreamed that I was once more standing
"By the wall whereon hangeth the crucified vine,"
[p.413]looking upon the valley of the Lianne, with its glaucous seas
and grey skies, and banks here and there white with snow.
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