see a steamer coming. I hear the big people are so angry
with the Indian saint because he treated them like dirt everywhere. One
great man went with a Moudir to see him, and asked him to sell him a
memlook (a young slave boy). The Indian, who had not spoken or saluted,
burst forth, 'Be silent, thou wicked one! dost thou dare to ask me to
sell thee a soul to take it with thee to hell?' Fancy the surprise of
the 'distinguished' Turk. Never had he heard such language. The story
has travelled all up the river and is of course much enjoyed.

Last night Sheykh Yussuf gave an entertainment, killed a sheep, and had a
reading of the _Sirat er-Russoul_ (Chapter on the Prophet). It was the
night of the Prophet's great vision, and is a great night in Islam. I
was sorry not to be well enough to go. Now that there is no Kadee here,
Sheykh Yussuf has lots of business to settle; and he came to me and said,
'Expound to me the laws of marriage and inheritance of the Christians,
that I may do no wrong in the affairs of the Copts, for they won't go and
be settled by the priest out of the Gospels, and I can't find any laws,
except about marriage in the Gospels.' I set him up with the text of the
tribute money, and told him to judge according to his own laws, for that
Christians had no laws other than those of the country they lived in.
Poor Yussuf was sore perplexed about a divorce case. I refused to
'expound,' and told him all the learned in the law in England had not yet
settled which text to follow.

Do you remember the German story of the lad who travelled _um das Gruseln
zu lernen_? Well, I, who never _gruselte_ before, had a touch of it a
few evenings ago. I was sitting here quietly drinking tea, and four or
five men were present, when a cat came to the door. I called 'biss,
biss,' and offered milk, but pussy, after looking at us, ran away. 'Well
dost thou, oh Lady,' said a quiet, sensible man, a merchant here, 'to be
kind to the cat, for I dare say he gets little enough at home; _his_
father, poor man, cannot cook for his children every day.' And then in
an explanatory tone to the company, 'That is Alee Nasseeree's boy
Yussuf--it must be Yussuf, because his fellow twin Ismaeen is with his
mule at Negadeh.' _Mir gruselte_, I confess, not but what I have heard
things almost as absurd from gentlemen and ladies in Europe; but an
'extravagance' in a _kuftan_ has quite a different effect from one in a
tail coat. 'What my