A WHITE ARAB. 199 tains tad the pale, blue-gray tint of an English landscape. The Bisharees wrapped themselves closely in their mantles as they walked, hut Eesa only tightened the cloth around his loins, and allowed free play to his glorious limbs. He informed me that he was on his way to Berber to make preparations for his marriage, which was to take place in another moon. He and Hossayn explained to me how the Ababdehs would then come together, feast on camel's flesh, and dance their sword-dances.

" I shall go to your wedding, too," I said to Eesa. " Will you indeed, 0 Effendi ! " he cried, with delight : "then I shall kill my she-camel, and give you the best piece." I asked whether I should be kindly received among the Ababdehs, and Eyoub declared that the men would be glad to see me, but that the women were afraid of Franks. " But," said Achmet, " the Effendi is no Frank." "How is this ?" said Eyoub, turning to me. "Achmet is right," I answered ; "I am a white Arab, from India." "But do you not speak the Frank language, when you talk with each other?" "No," said Achmet, "we talk Hindustanee." " 0, praised be Allah ! " cried Hossayn, clapping his hands with joy : "praised be Allah, that you are an Arab, like ourselves ! " and there was such pleasure in the faces of all, that I immediately repented of having deceived them. They assured me, however, that the Ababdehs would not only admit me into their tribe, but that I might have the handsomest Ahabdiyeh that could be found, for a wife. Hossayn had already asked Achmet to marry the eldest of his two daughters, who was then eleven years old.

I passed the last evening of the year 1851 on the bank of the Nile, near Abou-Hashym. There was a wild, green island in the stream, and reefs of black rock, which broke the current