I hope you have not had visions of me plundered and massacred by the
crazy darweesh who has caused the destruction of Gau and three other
villages. I assure you we are quite quiet here and moreover have
arranged matters for our defence if Achmet et Tayib should honour us with
a visit. The heat has just set in, thermometer 89 degrees to-day, of
course I am much better, fatter and cough less.
Many thanks to Henry about Achmet Ibn-Mustapha, but his father is going
to send him to England into Mr. Fowler's workshop, which will be a much
better training I think. Mr. Fowler takes him without a premium most
kindly. Lord Dudley will tell you what a splendid entertainment I gave
him; I think he was quite frightened at the sight of the tray and the
black fingers in the dishes.
The Abab'deh Sheykh and his handsome brother propose to take me to the
moolid of Sheykh-el-Shadhilee (the coffee saint) in the desert to see all
the wild Abab'deh and Bishareeyeh. It is very tempting, if I feel pretty
well I must go I think and perhaps the change might do me good. They
believe no European ever went to that festival. There are camel-races
and a great show of pretty girls says the handsome Hassan. A fine young
Circassian cawass here has volunteered to be my servant anywhere and to
fight anybody for me because I have cured his pretty wife. You would
love Kursheed with his clear blue eyes, fair face and brisk neat
soldierly air. He has a Crimean medal and such a lot of daggers and
pistols and is such a tremendous Muslim, but never-the-less he loves me
and tells me all his affairs and how tiresome his wife's mother is. I
tell him all wives' mothers always are, but he swears _Wallahi_,
_Howagah_ (Mr.) Ross don't say so, _Wallahi_, _Inshallah_!