The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1879-08-16
AN ARAB VILLAGE.
approaching q Collection OF Arab
Aouses-Scenes In the Village.

Approaching a Collection OF Arab
douses-Scenes In the Village.
From "Nile Days" by E. Catherine Bates
Oscar walks in front, with our three
Arabs; each man carries long pole in
ms right hand and lantern in his left;
the dim, uncertain light of the latter
casting weird shadows on our path, Civ
ing to the ithesome Arab figure, pro-
portions almost gigantic, whilst the re-
Hectlon of their long slaves stretches
far out into the darkness beyond. A
great plain of sand surrounds us; we
catch the dim outline of rocky hills in
the distance, right and left, whilst over
one crag, higher than the rest, the moon
is rising slowly in the bright, cold glory
peculiar to this Eastern atmosphere
" Sinking ankle deep in the sand, and.
then only emerging to be tripped up by
a bit of brushwood, is apt to become
monotonous," as Oscar observes, adding,
Glad the poor wretches have energy
enough to cultivate anything, but l
wish to goodness they would do it in a
more convenient place. Not very en-
couraging to pay visit to people who
choke up their front drive with cabbages
andibean-stalks!" "No, we!can scarcely
be said to have had friendly welcome"
answers Rachel, with little shiver; for
by this time we are entering the deserted
Arab village, and perfect army of i'll
conditioned, wolfish dogs set up chorus
of barks and howl to keep us away. The
long poles do their work now. A few
Judicious strokes in their midst, and the
Urntnhnd 1c al b
discomitted; and we are all allowed to
enter in peace.
The bright moonlight falls on the low
whine roofs of the miserable Arab houses,
or rathe. novels; we pass in silence
through the narrow, dirty lanes, shut
in by high mud walls. Here and there
dog, more daring then the rest, greets
us with a sleepy growl; but otherwise a
death-like stiffness prevails. No human
being invisible. Our own individuality
becomes almost oppre ssive in the weird
like desolation around. The bright,
clear moon shines down upon dirt and
abomination of every kind, lighting it
up with pitiless truth. Refuse, heaps
of bean pods, cabbage stalks, broken pot
terry, and wisps of dirty straw lie about
in reckless confusion. Every footstep
brings fresh signs of misery and squalcr
How hard and unlovely it must all seem
in the daylight! But the shadows and
the moonlight, and above all, tie
strange unnatural silence, giving touch
of ghost-like poetry to the village now.
cit is like city of the dead" whispers
Rachel pressing clofer to Elsie and me.
The girls face has white, strange look
about it in the moonlight. Oscar sees
it also, and turns round as though to
speak to her, but checks himself. The
spirit OF the place is upon us all. For q
moment we stand in hushed silence, gaz-
ing on the ruin and desolation around
us, then mechanically turn our steps on
ward. A few moments more we walk in
single file through another narrow lane
of novels, and then emerge upon large
square, probably the native market
place.
Here strange sight greets us. Rach.
ePs city of the dead seems suddenly to
have restored her victims. But can they
be living, breathing human beings
Two long rows of cross-legged Arabs
stretch from end to end of the square.
They are seated in absolute silence upon
the ground, smoking their long mar.
ghilehs. Their white turbans, and feet
shod in bright red and yellow morocco
slippers, form the only points of color
and relief to the dark, picturesque look
ing rags that cover them with soft
pathetic dignity that no English rags
could ever achieve. We pause for a
moment watching the strange scene
hardly liking to venture down the mar
row path between them. It seems
almost like invading the solitude of a
company of ghosts. But our Arabs
have no such scruples, and the men them
selves are utterly without curiosity, so
far as we are concerned. They treat
our presence with an absolute indifer-
ence which is almost humiliating. Not
a single eye is raised to watch the How
adj, and we walk through the curious,
silent ranks, unnoticed and unmolested.
L think we all breathe more freely when
the last ghOst-like couple has been left
behind, and we find ourselves on the
farther side of the village, and the open
sand once more beneath our feet, and
the great black rocks above us, and far
below, the stretch of shore, and the old
Nile slumbering peacefully beneath the
eastern moon.