Oriental Encounters / Palestine and Syria, 1894-6

(cont

d story of the foolish woman and her husband and the hapless cow, when we lay down to sleep that evening in the village guest-room. I also asked to hear the r

filthier than thou art; and if I fail to find one filthier than thou art I shall go on walking till I die." Well, he walked and he walked-for months, some people say, and oth

quired Rash?d, who like

Suleyman reflecti

s a Mu

, he may perhaps have been an Isma?li or a Dr

which led on to the housetop. The priest and his wife, together with their eldest girl, sat on the ground below, amid a heap of mulberry boughs; and all the other children sat, one on every step, passing up the leaves, when ready, to

ce upon this house," and asked them for a drink of water kindly. Even then the priest did not disturb himself,

er here,

d it, and so busy that the children have forgotten to refill it. Rise, O Nes?beh, take

berry leaves and caterpillars from her clothing. Taking up the pitcher, she went out thro

her way among them, so sat down to wait her turn, choosing a shady spot. She wa

e son. Again a year or two, he will be big enough to run about; and his father will make for him a pair of small red shoes, a

ing like a stretched-out arm, and realised how da

l down and br

at all the people who had come for water flocked around her, asking:

big gi

s so, O

mother will provide

is li

and I shall ha

ghed the multitude,

f small red shoes. And he will come down to the spring with other children, and will climb the tree.

em rent their clothes. They all sank down upon the ground

little neighbour! Ah, would that thou had

spring, and found the population of the village sitting weeping on the ground around her sister. She asked the matter. They replied: "A great calamity! Thy sister-poor distracted mother!-will inform thee of its nature." She ran up to Nes?beh, who moaned out: "I am a big girl now. A year or two, our mother will pr

shrieking: "Alas, my little nephew! My poor, dear little nephew! Would God that thou had lived to

another child; but thou must take her place upon the steps, O

till he alone was left to do the work of carrying the fresh leaves up

band and the stranger were able by themselves to carry

lay. Do thou, O stranger, feed the sheep meanwhile. Cease not to carry up the leav

his wrath was changed into amazement when he saw the crowd of people sitt

his wife and as

nnot speak of it.

dest daughter, who, half-

a big g

so, O my

ou and mother will pro

is po

and I shall ha

h!" said her

He came down to the spring to play with other children, and from that overhanging bough-how shall

news, tore his cassock up from foot to waist,

h, would that thou had lived to bury me, my little grand

mulberry leaves and carrying them up the staircase to the tet

looking?' said Rash?d. 'He must have

a different way,

mong them sat the priest, with features hidden in his torn black petticoat. He ventured to approach the man and put a question. The pr

ittle grandson! Ah, would that thou had

plucked at the stran

for him a pair of small red shoes. He came down to the spring to play with other children. You see that pear tree? On a day like this-a pleasant afternoon-he clambered up it, and from that bough, which over

spat upon the ground. No other word did he vouchsafe to them, but walked away; and he continued

beloved! I have fo

lared the st

oral to it?'

is this: however bad the woman whom one happens to posses

ble to find a bet

e truth is this: Our father Noah had one daughter only, and three men desired her; so not to disappoint the other two, he turned his donkey and his dog into t

them from the ot

secret to a friend; the third will make of it a tale against you. And this they do insti

f his married life was plagued by his companion to reveal to her the secrets pe

et if I swear to do so.

the priest made answe

e, that priest began to moan and writhe as if in ago

not confide to thee, for with it is bound u

I will hide it. Tel

presence of the greatest miracle. I, though not a woman, am far gone with child-a thing which n

howed his wife a little bird which he had kept there hidden. He let it fly

een my child. This is a sacred and an awful mys

eserve it," she rep

hat she must speak of it or die; and so she called upon a friend whose

at same evening the priest received a deputation of the village elders, who requested, in the name of the community, to be allowe

r. He gave her but one look. And yet from that day forwa

occasion, yet so foolish in

omen are more uniformly wise or foolish. A happy night!

nd water-burned upon the ground between us, making great shadows dance upon the wall

s our wise man yonder;

TNO

ya jari!'-a very commo

'Pooh-pooh to you!'