McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1883-12-20
In the Sultan's Harem.
Light of the Harem.


a broad, low divan of pale blue silk
ran round the apartment. No pictures
on the marble walls, no books, no brio
a-brac, no trumpery collections"
ceramics, aesthetic trash, grave or gray,
nor muffiing hangings. These are not
Oriental luxuries; but, instead, a cool
shady emptiness, plenty of space for
the breeze TO tlutter the gauzy curtains
and carry the echo of the slash and dip
of the fountains.
At the furthest end, and reclining on
pillows of silk and lace, rested the lady
we sought One little foot, in red
velvet slipper, was first seen below
wide trousers uf yellow silk; a loose
robe of white silk, embroidered with
gold thread, was perfectly covered by
a sleeveless jacket of crimson, dotted
with seed pearl; broad variegated
sash wound the slender waist. Half
concealing the arms was light scarf,
A head-band, with diamond pendants,
fringed her forehead; a REVERE of dia-
monds circled the bare throat; and
here and there solitary drops flashed in
the braids of her night-black hair.
Among the billowy cushions and vap-
porous veilings rose the young face
oh, what revelation OF beauty !-up-
lifted in a curious, questioning way, to
see what manner of women these are,
who come from the ends of the earth
with unveiled faces, and go about the
earth alone, and have to think for
themselves-poor things! The express
sion was that of lovely child waking
from summer slumber in the happiest
humor, ready for play. A sensitive, ex-
quiste face, fair as the first of women
while the angel was yet unfallen. A
perfect oval, the lips a scarlet thread,
and oh, those wonderful Asiatic eyes!-|
lustrious, coal-black, long, rather
round, beaming under the joined eye
brows of which the poet Hatiz sings.
Nourmahal did not rise but held out
one jeweled hand, dimpled as a baby's
with nails and finger-ends dyed pink
with henna-five clustered rosebuds.
The magic of beauty made us her SUBJ
jects. We kissed the fingers Loyalty,
and yielded ourselves willing captives
ready to be dragged at her chariot
wheels. My lifelong notions of the
subject of a woman (see Stuart Mills)
and the Indebtedness of prisoners
pining in palatial splendors vanished at
the first glance; went down at a touch,
like the wounded knight in the lists of
Templestowe. She smiled and hoped
we were we'll; then followed suitable
inquiries as to health and journeys, and
expressions of the charm of finding it all
out. ventured the high assertion that
We had sailed 5000 miles on purpose to
lay our homage at her blessed feet;
which rhetorical flourish was received
with childish nod at about what it was
worth. Somehow she did not seem so
encanted with her new worshippers as
they with her. 1t appeared the Beauty
had never seen the sea except from the
shore.
At the signal the slaves disappeared,
except one old woman and the negroes,
silent as ghosts, beside the Lahore dra-
perry. In few minutes five slaves re-
1urned, each carrying small round
table of cedar, inlaid with scraps of
mother-of-pearl. Five others followed,
with lighted cigarettes, lying each in a
silver saucer; and coffee in tiny cups,
about the size of a giants thimble, rest
ing in a silver tilagree holder, set round
with diamonds.
ssMy new fri nds have come so far"
said Nourr1ahal, 'sthey must be tired. |
Take cigarette and refresh your !
selves"
[ rather awkwardly adjusted the
holder of amber and ventured one faint
Whit. Imagine my establishment at
seeing my friend, whose name with
difficulty 1 suppress, puff away like
.dissipated old smoker. The Armenian
was native and to the manner born. |
Nourmahal smoked, of course, and a .
lulling calm succeeded the excitement
of the brilliant conversation reported ,