Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1882-10-12
The Mameluke's Leap.
A Tale of Modern Egypt.
And all is well.

There are few more striking city land
scapes in the whole of Africa, thougl
there may handsomer. than the l,anora
ma of Cairo, where ancient and modern
Mohammedanism stand represented sidt
by side.. As mere picture the traveller
may perhaps give his preference to the
towering red cliffs and terraeed streets
of Oran, the magnificent crescent OF
white houses surmounting the green
sloping hills and sparkling waters OF
Algiers Bay, or the strange little. eagles
nest Constantine percilet. Oh ii the tie sum
NIT of a perpendicular crag. and encir.
cled on all sides but one by a hideous
chasm 500 feet in depth. But in its pic
turesque mingling Of the past and pres
ent, of the quaint Eastern baf5arism
and jaunty Western civilization. Cairo
stands alone. ....
1t must be owned. however,, that the
late Khedive's efforts to make his capt.
tai a cheap edition of Paris have had
anything but satisfactory result. Mos
lem cities are as conservative as their
inhabitants, and do not take kindly to
the bustling. new-fangIed notions of the
Vest. The Shubra Gardens indeed
(Which form the park of Cairo, are a
foil to the hot, dusty plain all around
and so, too, is the long avenue of date
palms extending from the Nile almost
to the point where the mighty crests of
the Pyramids are seen looming against
the rich tropical sky ON the border of
the everlasting desert. But there is
garish, offensive snartless abont every,
street of the new "Ismailiyeh Quarter"
with its white hotels and bride-eake-like
villas, and enclosed grass-plOts sorely in
need of watering; and it is quite a relief
to turn from this .made-tO-Order" town |
into the maZs of. dark. narrow, Oriental
streets around the base of the citadel |
hill, where one may still see what the |
great city was In the days when she first |
the Arabic title of sAl Kahira."
Here, indeed, you take your I'LL Of !
Eastern associations You seem to be
looking up from the bottom of q well ut |
a bright summer sky, which Is only Wis
ible as little ribbon of burning light |
far overhead, between the flat, heavy
roofs of the strange old |.
houses, with their blank, massive walls
and deep tunDel-like doorways. All
around the quaint. Old World life of the
Arabian Nights" is in full swing. The
barber Is chatting to his
Arab customer as he shaves his crown.
The laden camel, stridiBg up the mar
'Ow, rubbish h-heaped street, almost tram
)les upon turbaned loafer who is too
aZy to get out of the way. The ."ka-
,obki" tseller of cooked meats) sets out
lpon the narrow board before him his
title squares of smoking mutton, each
mpaled upon its own tiny spit The
leformed beggar extends his shspeless ,
mass of sores which serve him as a
land. with shrill petition for charity. ,
rhe bare-limbed water-carrier waddles 4.
'ast under his bag of skin, eyed envi-
usly by the tattered. dusty pilgrim
rom Mecca, who Is looking round in
earch of bath-house. The veiled wo- II
nan glides noiselessly past In her shroud- :
Ike robe, like risen corpse, while the
aunt. half-clad, wild-eyed dervish, (r,e
giOusa devotee) stalks through the 4
rowd yelling like a, imadman. and toss +
ng his bare arms frantically in the air. '
Amid such q scene, one would hardly 4
Q esurprised to come upon Khejah Has i
an, or Sindbad, the sailor, snuRly seat \
d on shaggy corner and recounting to {
) circle Of admiriBg listeners one of
hose interminable stories which de-
GIFTED the Caliph Haroun Al-Raschid.. h;
'efore you reach the foot OF the wind Il
lg path leading upto the citadel you a
ill be quite ready to assent TO the old ! h