The Wenatchee daily world. [volume] (Wenatchee, Wash.) 1905-1971, 1909-11-24
Daily World Now Consul
to
Six Died Who Would Not Tell.

The hellward gentry who infest the
country north of the Persian gulf has
a happy habit of hiring the Arab such
little favors as killing off undesir-
able persons-native or foreign
against whom a grudge is held. Near
Mahommareh lately six "sons of the
desert were captured, charged with
having murdered a Turk for pay.
Now, an Arab, be he ever so playful,
can have as much fun as he likes
and indulge in fancy killing to his
brave hearts delight, SO long as Re
confines his numbering to others than
Turks. But when he Hampers light
ly with Turkish life he gets himself
disliked So the "Bhurro Sahib" Of
Mahommereh sent for the six Arabs
charged with the crime, and when
brought before him asked them who
had hired them to kill off the sui
tan's subject. But they would not
"squeal," even when face to face
with death. Failing in his threats
and still hoping to extort confess
sion. the official took the six prison
ers to the middle of the Tigris, placed
one in a large sack heavily weighed
with stones and threw him overheard
to drown. The five remaining were
still silent. One after another, on
successive days, the prisoners were
taken to midstream and one of their
discriminating number thrown over
board. Their secret perished with
them, for in this land of triple in
trigue none holds his tongue like the
Arab. One sees in the stalwart, ac-
tive Arab of today, fearless, naughty
and unconquered in mind or manner
the smoljering spirit of long ago. A
nation they are not. but a race they
remain, proud and unyielding, i'm
pervious to foreign influence, indif-
ferent to missionaries and a white
elephant to the Turkish government.
On the Persian Frontier.
Persia from the deck of a Gulf
steamer looks like southern Califor-
MAS coastline-a long ridge of bar
rem hills. with now and then a for
est of date palms near the shore. We
landed at the small frontier post
called Maffommereh, at the mouth of
the Kharun river, and found hospi-
tality among a band of pilgrims en-
route from faraway Madras to one of
the shrines on the Arabian desert.
They offered us pomegranates, dates,
some mangoes and a species of sar-
dineT on which we Jared very we'll.
The Turkish government maintains
a quarantine against all passengers
from India or Persia, so we fell in
due time into the hands of official
iom-the bane of travellers in the
Levant. The quarantine fee was so
"Krans," about $3.50 in Uncle Sans
language. When we had produced
it, the payment of which seemed to
satisfy the Persians that we were not
seriously i'll with cholera, plague or
any of the other trifling complaints
prevalent in these parts, we were al
lowed to escape. The only interest
ing feature of Mahommereh seemed
to be an INDECENT person who walked
on all fours in imitation of a dog and
then sought to collect money for his
trouble Up the Kharun river some
$50 miles, however, a small company
OF white men are preparing to drill
oil wells for a Persian syndicate
the Anglo-Persian company, they call
themselves, and they say they have
enough oil to worry Uncle John D. A
refinery is to be built, steamers have
been bought, and it really looks like
business.
But Bagdad is still long ways
off. So we chartered a Dellum, or
native sailing craft, piled incur bat
tered effects and set sail for Busreh
spelled eight different ways. The
"St. Francis" and waldorf" labels
on our sole surviving trunk con-
trasted oddly with the half savage
garb of the barbarians who lugged
it aboard. Forty miles we sailed
along a flat, sandy coast, lined with
date palms, to the Turkish frontier
town of Busreh, city of 100000 in
habitants and the most remote point
in the Ottoman empire from Con-
stantinople, or "Stamboul" as ma
tives call it, From Busreh we took
a Turkish steamer up the Tigris, the
last lap of our 1900 mile journey
to Bagdad.
Up the Tigris-Bagdad at Last.
For hundreds of miles the "Shat-
el-Arab" or River of the Arabs, winds
ITS tortuous way across the vast des.