The Frankfort roundabout. [volume] (Frankfort, Ky.) 1882-1908, 1895-05-25

a mile or so upon it, you turn in
to a series Of alleys which cross
each other at intervals, and are so
narrow in places that with out
stretched arms you can reach from
wall to wall. A motley crowd OF
men, women and children, all in
oriental dress, fill and blockade
them. Square recesses in their
sides with goods piled on shelves.
and their owners squatting, cross
legged in the center Of the floor,
these are the bazaars. There are
miles Of them. They sell every
thing under the sun and for pretty
much every price. You never
enter, but stand in the alley and
dicker for what you want. Dicker
is the right word. If you paid
the price originally asked for an
article, the seller would fall in a
fainting fit. He first asks three
prices, expecting you to dicker.
And all you need to do is to offer
the price you will pay and stick to
it. He will come to it by easy
stages in no time. Nowhere in
Cairo, even in the modern and
European shops. are prices fixed.
Nothing in the bazaars is more in
teresting than the silversmith's
quarter. They are generally Copts,
and you see them plying their art
and manufacturing their articles on
both sides as you pass along.
They. know how to reproduce the
most ancient styles Of Egyptian
jewelry, even the kind the Israel
ties despoiled their oppressors Of
the night of the Exodus. But
your enjoyment of the bazaars is
at times marred by the necessity
OF passing loaded camel, whose
burden reaches out on either side
almost to the walls Of the narrow
alley, or Of being rubbed against
by strings of donkeys or a sue
cession Of STOPPING goat-skin water
carriers, who thread their way
through the dense and noisy
throng. But we have our genial
and competent dragoman, Ibrahim
Ismain, along, and he acts as
guard, guide, interpreter, and
smooths our path at every point
and aids in our purchases. No
one can properly see Cairo with
out morning or two in the
bazaars.
Another thing that will not
come to you is the Mosques.
There are something like five
hundred Of them, and their tall
and graceful minarets look down
upon you from all parts of the
city and lend charm to every gen
eral view you get of it. / wish
church steeples were half as hand
some. The oldest Mosque in
Cairo is that of Sultan -Hasson,
built 400 years ago, within which
the dust OF the Sultan sleeps, and
over which towers the highest of
all the minarets. The most beau.
tiful mosque is that Of Mehemet
Ali, whose yellow limestone walls.
alabaster pillars, marble floors,
blue tablets, crystal auditorium.
covered with magnificent Persian
rugs, and two needle-like minarets,
were delight on which our eyes
simply feasted. Every mosque
has one or more h6las or praying
inches, which, of course, always
face Mecca, where the pious
Moslems gather to perform their
elaborate devotions. The remains
Of the doughty ruler, Mehenet
Ali, still rest in a corner Of his
mosque. not far from the spot
within the citad,l where in 1911
he butchered the FIVE hundred
Mamelukes in cold blood. Ibra-
him showed US some dark places
on the walls o. the passage
way where the terrible deed was
done. which he said were caused
by the flowing blood of the un-
armed chiefs, and pointed out the
very point near by where the only
one OF their number who escaped
spurred his horse over the fifty
foot precipice.