The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1929-04-12

IneIH III dark tunnel. lie rev VIII
dows, small square openings, are
barred with gratings bent outward;
and here and there painted face
looks out from them and smiles down
invitingly on the wayfarer.
But usually the houses present a
blank front to the outer world
blank, that is, but for carved door
with small, twisted column on either
side and stone crescent above it.
One of these doors opens and three
tiny children toddle out, laughing
one boy in a red fez and a small
shirt, the others little girls with flow
cred blouses, colored skirts, and gaudy
handkerchiefs twisted around their
heads.
The open door gives glimpse Of
wee tiled hall with dwarf staircase
twisting out of sight.
Farther down another door stands
invitingly ajar. Pass through it out
Of the dim alley and you are in an
other world. A bright courtyard
opens to the blue sky above. Two,
ed parapet walls top carved stone or
marble pillars; vine swings across
the void; flowers in pots or Bougain-
villeas dash notes of glowing color
into the court on which women look
down and call shrilly to the serving
maids seated on the paving stones be-
low, cleaning great brass water Jars
of old and graceful design.
But the glory has departed; pasha
| and pirate have had their day, and
] their mansions, too, have fallen from
their high estate. Instead of one rich
| man with his harem Of silken-clad
wives of many races peopling the
chambers that open onto the tiled
| galleries and his wretched slaves fill
ing the dark cellars and noisome
| dungeons below, dozen or more poor
families-Arabs, Jews, Maltese, Span
iards-now crowd into the one-time
palace. Often the beautiful court
yards are turned to utilitarian pur-
| poses, and carpenters bench or
| grocer's counter replaces the marble
fountain that once sweetened the air
with tinkle of falling water.
Figures in the Streets.
Out again into the dark lanes and
vaulted tunnels. Stand aside and let
this porter pass. Bent double, he
lurches heavily up the steep ascent,
band around his forehead helping to
support the weight of the immense
burden on his back. With his red cap
twisted about with a dirty kerchief,
his torn shirt and baggy trousers, his
bare feet thrust into heelless slippers,
| he resembles-and Is like to him in
feature as in faith-a hamal, or por-
ter, of Constantinople toiing up the
equally steep streets of STEAMBOAT.
Out of a dark alley come two white
robed figures, yelled to the dark eyes
that, lustrous and beautiful, shine un-
der the black eyebrows and fair fore
heads. Massive silver and gold neck
laces hang on their bosoms, broad sill
heavy anklets surround the silk-stock-
inged ankles thrust into dainty Slip
pers. Their henna- tipped fingers are
loaded with rings.
With a lingering backward glance
these two enter slowly a carved mar
BILE portal leading into a hall walled
and fioored with f1ower-designed porce-
lain tiles. Inscriptions in French and
Arabic tell us that this is the entrance
to the Moorish baths, open to men I'M
til noon, to women In the afternoon.
The fair ones flock to 1t, for it is their
lounge, their club. their glimpse of So
cial life, their gossip exchanged
and the Mohammedan cemeteries on
Fridays
The narrow alley dives into another
tunneled passage under the houses
and energies on a wider space, a mar
ket. Spread out on the ground or on
rough stalls are meat, fruit, vegeta-
bles, bread.
Arab and negro dealers shout out
their wares and prices in Arabic and
in French, while tall men in white
burnooses, shrouded Moorish women
and dark-haired, bare-headed Maltese
girls chatter and bargain excitedly
Buyers and seller shake their hands
Kin each others face. scream with
rage, call on Allah or the God of the
Christians to bear witness, then quiet
down and conclude the deal peaceably.