The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-01-17
A MEAN WHITE.

A man, an Englishman, sat on one of
the seats Of the Esbekleh gardens at Cairo.
His chin was sunk on his breast bis
hands were thrust deep into his pockets.
The gay world of Cairo-it was the month
of February, and the height of the season
in the capital of Egypt-drove this way
and that before his eyes, running footmen,
gay with gold lace and tssselled caps pant
ing behind the carriages, but the man
never looked up-showed no curiosity.
He had nothing in common with the gay
world. His pockets we're empty. his hat
was battered, his boots were cracked. He
was dusty, dishevelied, disreputable,
down-looking. More, his heart was sick.
He scowled at the passing natives, who
eyed him inquisitively, and flung a curse
at the blind man who sought bscksheesh
of him.
To be poor az home is bad. But to be
poor abroad, TO be out at elbows and heels
in country where ali men with white
faces keep themselves haughtily apart-to
be mean white. in fact, whether is be in
the streets of Charlestown, or Delhi, or
Cairo. is . thousand times worse. When q
man comes TO that he is not far from per-
dition; his self-respect, If by chance he
have any left, will not last long and when
that is gone there will De tempters enough
a. his eleow-tempters with black faces,
delighted TO have one of the dominant
race at their mercy.
The man on the seat felt all this and
felt desperately miserable and forlorn.
He was at his Wits end. At home there
are warehouses, and a man may sneak
into one and sneak out again unrecog-
nized and still hold up his head But
abroad there is only the consul's- To go
10 the consuI's Office and stand among the
Cooks tourists and the fashionables leav-
ing cards and wanting this or that done:
to 90 and be questioned and looked over
curiously was just what this man could
not face. Alone. without half-penny or
lodging, he shrank from that, the only
hope which presented itself TO him, and
presently he rose and wandered away
Into the bazaar quarter first. though the
light in the narrow reeking alleys was be-
ginning to fade, and the streak of hot sun
shine, which 1t noon had flashed down
into the brassworker's corner and helped
10 sell his wares. was long gone. The tiny
shops and the struggling crowds about
them, q crowd in which men and women
and donkeys were inextricably mixed up,
looked tawdry where they did not look
mean and dreary. The tourist. suddenly
disenchanted, his Aladdin's lamp gone
out, shifted the tainted air and hurried
home. The traders began to put on their
slippers and shut their shops. The En-
glishman wandered on, glaring about him
savagely.
At home. cast on the streets, without
money or moneys worth he would have
known what to do. He would have known
some shelter where he could sleep gratis
Here he knew nothins and no one. He
shrank from the dark faces and cleaning
eyes. which. as he prowled along, gazed
~ him eariousiy. yet distrustfully. He
shrank still more from the holes aud cor
ners where their poor coBsortsd.
He emerged presently near the foot of
the citadel. The fading light showed him
that he stood on the verge of that vast
waste Of dust and potsherds which sur
rounds the tombs Of the caIiphs and gives
20 this side OF Cairo an air indescribsbly