t some
notion of impending ill-luck, I found, and was unhappy at our
departure--and the backsheesh failed to console him. Sheykh Yussuf was
to come with me, but a brother of his just wrote word that he was coming
back from the Hejaz where he had been with the troops in which he is
serving his time; I was very sorry to lose his company. Fancy how
dreadfully irregular for one of the Ulema and a heretical woman to travel
together. What would our bishops say to a parson who did such a thing?
We had a lovely time on the river for three days, such moonlight nights,
so soft and lovely; and we had a sailor who was as good as a professional
singer, and who sang religious songs, which I observe excite people here
far more than love songs. One which began 'Remove my sins from before
thy sight Oh God' was really beautiful and touching, and I did not wonder
at the tears which ran down Omar's face. A very pretty profane song was
'Keep the wind from me Oh Lord, I fear it will hurt me' (_wind_ means
_love_, which is like the Simoom) 'Alas! it has struck me and I am sick.
Why do ye bring the physician? Oh physician put back thy medicine in the
canister, for only he who has hurt can cure me.' The masculine pronoun
is always used instead of _she_ in poetry out of decorum--sometimes even
in conversation.

_October_ 23.--Yesterday I met a Saedee--a friend of the brother of the
Sheykh of the wild Abab'deh, and as we stood handshaking and kissing our
fingers in the road, some of the Anglo-Indian travellers passed and gazed
with fierce disgust; the handsome Hassan, being black, was such a
flagrant case of a 'native.' Mutter dear, it is heart-breaking to see
what we are sending to India now. The mail days are dreaded, we never
know when some outrage may not excite 'Mussulman fanaticism.' The
English tradesmen here complain as much as anyone, and I, who as the
Kadee of Luxor said am 'not outside the family' (of Ishmael, I presume),
hear what the Arabs really think. There are also crowds 'like lice' as
one Mohammed said, of low Italians, French, etc., and I find my stalwart
Hassan's broad shoulders no superfluous _porte-respect_ in the Frangee
quarter. Three times I have been followed and insolently stared at (_a
mon age_)!! and once Hassan had to speak. Fancy how dreadful to Muslims!
I hate the sight of a hat here now.

I can't write more now my eyes are weak still. Omar begs me to give you
his best salaam and say, _Inshallah_, he