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usual salutation of strangers in the desert (el-'awâfy, 'safety, or peace, from God'); he started as if surprised, gave me a quick, fierce look, but deigned no reply. This seemed no very pleasant introduction to Arab life. It took me quite. by surprise; it was so different from the polite salutations of the peasantry, and from my anticipations of the boasted hospitality of the Bedawîn. I began to have some gloomy forebodings that all might not be right. I did not then know, what I afterward learned, that this is Arab etiquette. -in fact, the very essence of politeness. When strange Arabs approach an encampment in the desert they wrap their cloaks carefully around them, and almost completely conceal their faces in the ample folds of their kefîyehs. No word of salutation is addressed to them, and no question asked on either side. They guide their animals in silence to any tent they choose to select, being careful, however, not to pass close to any other, as it would be considered an insult not to claim the hospitality of the first; they dismount without a word at the tent-door, and from that moment become the guests and protegés of its owner. The reasons and wisdom of this rather singular custom become at once apparent from a consideration of Arab life. Blood feuds are of frequent occurrence among desert tribes, and there are few families but are somewhere involved in them. When a stranger approaches an encampment, therefore, he knows not but that he may meet an enemy, and he consequently conceals his features till he reaches a place of safety. duties of hospitality, too, are held so sacred, that no tribe or individual will salute or question an unknown stranger who claims it, lest they should discover in him one with whom they may have a blood feud. Once the stranger is within the precincts of a tent, his host is not only bound to supply his wants, but to defend him with his life.

The

"We dismounted at the door of a spacious tent in the centre of the encampment. No sooner had our sheikh

touched the ground than he was affectionately embraced by his son, a fine boy of about fifteen. This scene at once brought to my mind some incidents recorded in Scripture, and seemed, in fact, to realize the interesting narratives of patriarchal times. The youth placed his hands on his father's neck, and kissed each cheek, and then they leaned their heads for a few seconds, while embracing, on each other's shoulders. Precisely similar was the scene at the meeting of Jacob and Esau, nearly four thousand years ago: 'And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him.' We were soon surrounded by a little group of wild-looking Arabs, who manifested intense curiosity at our every movement. Our luggage was placed within the tent, and comfortable seats prepared by the hands of 'Amer himself, who now cordially welcomed us to his desert home. The whole scene and circumstances were to us intensely interesting. The numerous tents grouped together on the parched desert soil, the widespreading flocks and herds browsing peacefully on every side, and the picturesque and primitive costumes of those who tended or wandered forth among them, pictured vividly before our minds the days when Abraham dwelt in tents and Jacob led his family and flocks across this same desert to the land of promise. The tents are unquestionably the same as those used in the most remote ages, for nothing can be imagined more simple than their construction. An oblong piece of black goat's-hair cloth is fastened to the ground by ropes and stakes at each end and along one side; several poles, some seven or eight feet long, placed upon their ends, keep it at the proper elevation, and leave one side entirely opensuch is the whole fabric. The Bedawîn never call it a tent; its invariable name with them is house of hair.

"Amer having borrowed my knife, went to a neighboring tent occupied by his harêm and younger children, to make ready, as we afterward found, the feast for his guests. A

lamb was speedily brought by a young man from the flock, and slain at the tent-door, and the still quivering limbs were handed over to his wife to be got ready...

"At a signal from the other tent great bustle and activity was manifested by the group before us. All rose up, and elderly men, approaching from various quarters, saluted us respectfully. 'Amer, his son, and Mohammed appeared among them, and were soon followed by three Arabs bearing between them a monstrous dish, nearly four feet in diameter, on which was a large pile of rice, with the members of a sheep scattered round the sides, and a large craterlike cavity in the summit filled with melted butter. This was placed as near us as the fire would permit, and resembled, when on the ground, a volcano in miniature. We were invited to approach and commence the banquet; and several elders of the tribe, with Mohammed, after much pressing, were persuaded to sit down with us. Our host sat at a respectful distance; his son and two or three smaller children close beside him. It is Arab etiquette for the host to be served last of all.

"When we had withdrawn with those who had joined us, another relay sat down; and these were followed by another, until the mountain became a valley of dry bones. It was only when all had eaten and were satisfied, that 'Amer and his son approached and gathered up the fragments. Poor fellows! their fare was but scanty. . .

"As the evening advanced the circle of our visitors enlarged. The fitful blaze but half revealed the wild figures that squatted round, and dimly showed the beautifully formed heads and soft eyes of two or three mares that gazed familiarly on the assembly, and the faint outline of the huge camels picketed in the background. We were entertained with wild tales of Arab life and warfare, of bold forays and fierce reprisals, and of the wondrous speed and endurance of matchless and priceless mares, whose unbroken genealo

gies and untold perfections the whole tribe were proud of. We were eagerly questioned too about our own far distant land. . . .

"A bed on the hard, stony, desert soil tends to promote early rising; and for once at least I was thankful for it. The whole encampment, extending far away on every side, as viewed in the gray morning light, was one vast forest of camels with a dense underwood of sheep and goats. Presently they began to waver, and the whole was soon in motion. The smaller animals assembled in groups, obedient to the call of their masters, and then followed them far away in the distance. Thus disappeared flock after flock, each knowing and following its own shepherd. Occasionally the vast masses mingled, and for a few moments united; but this caused no confusion, for 'a stranger will they not follow: they know not the voice of a stranger.' The Arab maids, in their graceful flowing robes, each a model for a statuary, now went forth from their tents to milk the sheep and camels, and returned again with the foam-crowned pails upon their heads. It was a purely pastoral and truly patriarchal scene, and well repaid us for our early start."

Their way then led them by other pasture-grounds and encampments, where it was difficult to avoid the Arab hospitality, and on the following day,

"At 1.45, as we were passing a large tent in the outskirts of an encampment, a friendly voice suddenly cried, "Ya 'Amer! Ya 'Amer! Hauwel! Hauwel!' (O Amer, O Amer, stop! stop!') and in a moment more our chief was in the arms of an aged Arab, who embraced and kissed him most lovingly. Another and another came up and went through the same ceremony. It was quite impossible to resist the importunities of these hospitable men. We must dismount, sheep must be slain, princely banquets must be prepared in honor of the arrival of 'Amer and the illustrious strangers. Our dromedaries were seized and pulled to the

ground, and we were all but dragged from their backs and transported per force into the interior of the tent. Long and loud did we remonstrate. We had expected to reach

Palmyra in the evening, and this besides was no pleasant place for us to spend the afternoon. It was in vain, however, and so, when we could do nothing else, we quietly sat down on our carpets to await the will of our masters.

"We were scarcely seated when we observed a young man bind on his sandals, and set off at speed across the plain. In half an hour he returned bearing a lamb on his shoulders. The poor animal was soon stretched upon the ground, bleeding and in the agonies of death. Stripped of its skin with Arab despatch, the yet quivering body was handed over to the tenants of the harem.

"The whole of this scene, however inconvenient under present circumstances, was regarded by both Mr. Robson and myself with deep interest. It seemed as if we had been carried back more than three thousand years in the world's history, and by some mysterious providence permitted to mingle with the people of patriarchal times. The salutations we heard around us and those addressed to ourselves were such as had been familiar to us from childhood in the stories of Abraham and the angels on the plains of Mamre, and of Jacob and Laban at Padan-Aram. Here was the aged sheikh sitting in his tent-door watching for chance wayfarers; here was the generous hospitality that would constrain us to remain until we partook of refreshments; here too were the widespreading flocks from which the lamb was brought, and the almost inconceivable expedition with which it was killed and served up with butter and milk. The solemn interview between Abraham and

1 The Arab butter is made in the usual way, by churning the milk. The process of churning is somewhat singular. A skin of milk is tied up to a tent-pole and shaken by a woman until the butter separates. When fresh, the butter is tolerable; but when it has stood some time, the taste,

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