building purposes, others with long pieces of timber on each side, others with skins of water and so on; then an Arab lady on donkey-back, riding after the manner of men, and covered from head to foot in unsightly black wrappers, having just a slit in them, through which can be seen a large pair of lustrous dark eyes, and down the bridge of her nose are some brass-looking ornaments, resembling as much as anything a row of thimbles inserted in one another. A Turkish lady’s dress and yashmack (covering worn over the face) is much more becoming, and her nose is not ornamented by the addition of the thimble arrangement. The Turkish ladies wear (in Constantinople) quite a thin white muslin yashmack over their faces. This does not conceal very much of the features, which, as a rule, are very beautiful. The Egyptian ladies wear a black yashmack, which conceals all except the eyes. Report says they are ugly; if so, they are quite right to do so. Next I see a carriage driven along preceded by two sais, or runners, to clear the way, and it is surprising what a pace they go at with a long, swinging trot. They are picturesquely and gorgeously dressed, each bearing a long wand, and wearing a tarboosh (Turkish fez), the long thick blue tassel of which floats gracefully over the shoulders, and not at all unlike what some of the ladies in Athens wear, except that their tassels are black. Then we see blind, or partially blind, beggars, of whom there are vast numbers, Coptic and Mahomedan women and children, girls with baskets of flowers and lovely roses, sweet-meat, fly-whisp, water, and fruit-sellers, conjurers, snake-charmers, one and all soliciting “backsheesh,” dusky, brown-skinned Arabs clad in loose-flowing robes and white turbans, coal-black Nubians, Jews, Greeks, Armenians, and Europeans of all shades of colour, religion, and politics. Here, in fact, in this city of Saladin and of the “Arabian Nights Entertainments” creations (which once seemed to be so fanciful and visionary) kindle into life and reality as I look upon everything around me.
The apartments of an Arab house of the well-to-do are decorated with Arabesque lattices, instead of glass windows. Inside are luxurious divans heaped with soft cushions, instead of sofas and chairs; and instead of the rattling of cabs, carts, and tramcars we hear the wild, shrill, trilling note of the Arabian women indicating some occasion of joy or sorrow, or hear the equally peculiar long drawn-out note of the muezzin from some minaret calling the faithful to prayer.
Very near to our hotel, on the opposite side, are always to be found a number of donkeys ready for hire, and very good little donkeys they are. I can see the head, legs, and tail of a donkey; the remaining portion of him is almost concealed by a great padded saddle, to which is attached a very inconvenient pair of stirrups, into which you may get the tips of your toes, and sometimes a portion of the foot, but if the foot is not small, or is so unfortunate as to possess a respectably-sized bunion, you must be content if you can get the tips of your toes only in the stirrup; this, again, slips down to the right or left, according as you put more pressure on one side or the other. There are no girths, but one long strap placed around the saddle and donkey very insecurely fixes the former. If my reader has not been accustomed to circus-riding, I assure him he would experience some difficulty at first in exhibiting his powers of equitation before the Egyptian public under these circumstances, and I have seen more than one individual come into ignominious contact with mother earth; fortunately he has not far to go ere he humbles and tumbles himself in the dust.
My first experience was this: as soon as I was seated and had rammed the tip of my boot into the stirrup, the donkey-boy shouts, “Ha—ha.” This warning note the donkey knows full well, and off he goes at a kind of running trot, which is all right. Soon these ha-ha’s increase in frequency, and ere long I can fancy myself a second Mezeppa. The imp behind now accompanies his peculiar yell with a sharp prog of a pointed stick, and the donkey takes a very pointed cognisance of it, for now “He urges on his wild career.” In the wide, open streets this rapid mode of progression has an exhilarating tendency, but in the narrow streets of the bazaars unguarded human beings fly to the right of me, unguarded human beings fly to the left of me, and imprecations, not loud, but deep, in an unknown tongue, fall on my untutored ear as my donkey indiscriminately cannons on to the unobservant. A few words about these donkeys, and donkey-boys so called. Most of the latter are not boys at all, but full-grown men, notwithstanding which they are always called donkey-boys. These and their donkeys are quite an institution in the East. The donkeys own all kinds of popular English names, and of course (if the owner may be believed) are possessed of every good quality. Most of the donkey-boys have picked up more or less English, and in expatiating on the good qualities of their beasts are accustomed to interlard their speech with the strong language of the West, and you would be surprised to hear how promptly they will consign a fellow donkey-boy to an inhospitable and much-warmer region than Cairo, and to the care of a much blacker individual than themselves. The reader is here called upon to exercise his or her imagination. I had myself derived considerable amusement when watching an intending pilgrim securing one of these donkeys. To be forewarned is to be forearmed; I flattered myself that by making my selection sure before I got amongst them, my tactics would be most successful, but as the sequel will show, I was grossly deceived, having reckoned without my host, or hosts I ought to say. First intending pilgrim. He descends the steps of Shepheard’s Hotel, and moves towards the donkeys—a fatal movement. Instantly the air is thick with donkeys and donkey-boys. The latter yell frantically a chorus of praises concerning the useful quadrupeds, which are most adroitly and with surprising dexterity brought one after the other under his very nose, whilst the poor victim is jostled about in the most bewildering and unpleasant manner. I have been both a spectator of and an actor in this performance, and I can safely say the spectator derives by far the greatest amusement.
I resolved to pay a visit to the bazaars and some of the mosques of note. Having, as I thought, gained some experience by observing the misfortunes of others, I executed a strategic movement which I fondly imagined would turn out successful. I had, from a distance selected my donkey; then cunningly walked up and down the pavement smoking a cigarette, apparently with no object in view. Suddenly I darted on to the enemy, but alas! I found myself in an absolute whirlwind of donkeys and their troublesome two-legged attendants, who yelled into my ears and bumped me about until I was quite unable to recognise the donkey I had selected. Beauties were here represented, such as Mrs. Cornwallis West, and Mrs. Langtry; national names, such as John Bull, and Yankee-doodle; mythical names, such as Jim Crow and Billy Barlow. One donkey rejoiced in the name of Dr. Tanner, another in that of Madame Rachel; others, again, had been honoured with the names of statesmen, such as Prince Bismarck, John Bright, Sir Stafford Northcote, Lord Randolph Churchill, Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Parnell, Lord Beaconsfield, and others. “Dr. Tanner, he debbil to go—he berry good donkey indeed, hakeem,” said the owner. However, I declined him, as he was said to be a FAST one (excuse the joke), and as this was entirely an Eastern question, I could not help thinking that Lord Beaconsfield would certainly be the most likely to carry me safely through. I therefore selected him, and had every reason to be satisfied with him and his secretary, Lord Rowton alias Ibrahim, the donkey-boy, whom I employed on several subsequent occasions. He proved a very good conductor, for he took me through the various bazaars, Tunis, Algiers, Turkish, Persian, and Arab, &c., pointing out all places of note and interest en route. Ibrahim soon got to know that I was a doctor, and so indeed did all the attendant Arabs about the hotel. He, like hundreds of his countrymen, suffered from ophthalmia, and when I was out with him he said—
“Hakeem, what I do with my eyes? They very bad sometimes.”
“Oh!” said I, “you bring me a bottle to-morrow morning, and I will give you something for them,” little thinking of the consequences. The lotion did his eyes a great deal of good, and two days afterwards a great many of his friends called, to all of whom I gave lotion. During my stay here, and some months afterwards on returning from the Soudan, I was, every morning, employed after breakfast at my medicine chest preparing eye lotions for my Arab friends, invocations for the blessings of Allah being my recompense. The poor fellows appeared to be grateful, and I dare say it was genuine, not like a canting old Irish vagrant woman, who, if you give a hunk of bread and cheese to, will exclaim—
“Thank yer honour kindly!” and as long as she is in hearing keep muttering, “Och! sure now, there’s a kind jintleman for ye, me darlint. Sure now he is intirely an illigant jintleman; only
