[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and
italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
Our Little Arabian Cousin
THE
Little Cousin Series
(TRADE MARK)
Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in
tint. Cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover,
per volume, 60 cents
LIST OF TITLES
BY MARY HAZELTON WADE
(unless otherwise indicated)
=Our Little African Cousin=
=Our Little Alaskan Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Arabian Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Armenian Cousin=
=Our Little Brazilian Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Brown Cousin=
=Our Little Canadian Cousin=
By Elizabeth R. Macdonald
=Our Little Chinese Cousin=
By Isaac Taylor Headland
=Our Little Cuban Cousin=
=Our Little Dutch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little English Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Eskimo Cousin=
=Our Little French Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little German Cousin=
=Our Little Hawaiian Cousin=
=Our Little Hindu Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Indian Cousin=
=Our Little Irish Cousin=
=Our Little Italian Cousin=
=Our Little Japanese Cousin=
=Our Little Jewish Cousin=
=Our Little Korean Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Mexican Cousin=
By Edward C. Butler
=Our Little Norwegian Cousin=
=Our Little Panama Cousin=
By H. Lee M. Pike
=Our Little Philippine Cousin=
=Our Little Porto Rican Cousin=
=Our Little Russian Cousin=
=Our Little Scotch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Siamese Cousin=
=Our Little Spanish Cousin=
By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Swedish Cousin=
By Claire M. Coburn
=Our Little Swiss Cousin=
=Our Little Turkish Cousin=
(_In Preparation_)
=Our Little Australian Cousin=
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: HAMID.]
Our Little Arabian
Cousin
By
Blanche McManus
_Author of "Our Little English Cousin," "Our
Little French Cousin," "Our Little Dutch
Cousin," "Our Little Scotch
Cousin," etc._
_Illustrated by_
The Author
[Illustration: SPE LABOR LEVIS]
Boston
L. C. Page & Company
_MDCCCCVII_
_Copyright, 1907_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, May, 1907
_COLONIAL PRESS
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U. S. A._
Preface
OUR little Arabian cousins live in a far-away land, where all the
manners and customs of life are very different from our own.
The little Arab children of the desert are quite different from
those who live in the towns, as, indeed, are their elders. The
Bedouins of the desert are by no means an uncivilized race, and their
kind-heartedness and strict regard for doing by others as they would be
done by is a marked feature of their daily life.
This little book tells of the comings and goings of two little children
of the desert; how they lived their lives; their plays and games; and
many of the curious sights they saw as they travelled about with their
parents, on one occasion visiting the great city of Medina, where they
were as much strangers as if they were little American cousins who had
come there on a journey.
Arabia itself is a wild, sad country, but with here and there great
patches of verdure, date-palms, cocoanuts, and coffee plants which give
prosperity to the inhabitants. Some of the tribes are warlike and less
peaceful than others, but they are the outcasts of the country, the
same as are found elsewhere than in Arabia.
Our little Arabian cousins have much in common with other little
cousins, in that they are very strictly brought up, and are taught to
have a great respect for their elders, and particularly to be polite
and thoughtful to strangers. Their games and many of the acts of their
daily lives are what we ourselves would consider violent and rough,
but that only shapes them in their future careers to live up to their
ancestral traditions.
B. M.
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. RASHID COMES TO THE BLACK TENTS 1
II. HAMID AND RASHID AT PLAY 20
III. THE ROBBER BAND AND AN OSTRICH HUNT 40
IV. RASHID GOES HOME 57
V. HAMID AND FATIMAH SEE THE GREAT CITY 73
List of Illustrations
PAGE
HAMID _Frontispiece_
A SCHOOL IN MODENA 12
IN THE BLACK TENTS 33
IN THE "_SHUGDUF_" 60
"THEY SCATTERED THE GRAIN ALL ABOUT THE COURTYARD" 75
THE CARAVAN ON THE ROAD TO MECCA 80
[Illustration: _Map showing Places mentioned in_
OUR LITTLE ARABIAN COUSIN]
Our Little Arabian Cousin
CHAPTER I
RASHID COMES TO THE BLACK TENTS
"THEY come, father, they come; I see a cloud of dust just over the
hills," cried young Hamid, galloping up on his fiery little pony to
where his father sat proudly on his horse, with a number of the men of
his tribe around him. Al-Abukar, Hamid's father, was a grave, dignified
Bedouin Arab, with a flowing beard and a long white cloak completely
covering him. In his right hand he held a long lance or spear.
"Nay, nay," said Al-Abukar, shading his eyes with his hand, as he
looked out across the desert, "'tis only the sand caught up in a swirl
of the wind. Be not impatient, my son," he continued, "thou wilt tire
both thyself and the little mare if thou dashest needlessly about, and
neither of you will be able to greet thy little friend with the proper
spirit."
Hamid and Zuleika, the little pony, both tossed their heads at the idea
of such a thing; and no wonder! for Hamid belonged to the Beni-Harb,
one of the best and bravest of the Bedouin tribes. As for Zuleika,
she had come from the Nijd Desert, where the finest Arabian horses
are bred, and it was said she was a descendant of the famous horse of
Saladin, the great Arab ruler of olden times.
The pony's coat was rough and shaggy, and not smooth and glossy as we
like to see; but Hamid could soon show you all her good points. The
small head, with its thin pointed ears, wide nostrils, and large eyes,
and the proud arch of her neck and the network of muscles on her wiry
legs all showed that she was an Arabian horse of the bluest blood.
Hamid and his father had ridden out into the desert to meet little
Rashid, a young friend of theirs who lived in the city of Medina.
Rashid had been ill, and it was not easy to get well in the hot,
narrow, ill-smelling streets of an Arabian city; so his father was
bringing him to stay some months with Hamid, that he might live in
a tent and breathe the dry, pure air of the desert, drink plenty of
camel's milk, and thus become well and strong.
"The People of the Walls," as the Arabs of the desert call the folk who
live in the towns, often send their children to live for awhile in the
"Black Tents" in the desert, that they may grow up strong and healthy
and become hardy and brave like the Bedouins themselves. The Bedouins,
the real desert Arabs, are among the bravest and most courageous people
in all the world. The "Black Tents," the habitations of the Bedouins,
are so called because they are made of a material very sombre and dark
in colour.
"Could we not ride farther out to meet our friends?" asked Hamid, for
both he and Zuleika were becoming more and more restless.
"I fear we should miss them, for I know not whether they will come over
the ridge or by the road up the valley," said his father.
Just at this moment one of the Bedouins called out: "Do I not see the
dust from the camels' feet over yonder?"
"Ah, it is truly they; haste and we will give them welcome." So saying,
Al-Abukar spurred his horse forward, and Hamid and his pony were not
far behind. Together they flew like the wind over the sand and rocks.
As they came in sight of their friends, they shouted out their names,
at the same time throwing their lances into the air and catching them
again, and firing off their guns in real circus fashion.
You would think that all this would frighten one's friends to death,
but this is only the polite Bedouin way of welcoming any one.
The camels of the caravan which was bringing the people from Medina
came to a halt and everybody dismounted, and loud and warm were the
greetings between friends.
Hamid and Rashid clapped the palms of their right hands together,
and then touched foreheads and put their arms around each other's
necks. This is the real Arab form of greeting a friend. They are more
affectionate than any of the other Eastern nations, and show their joy
and happiness with much emotion when meeting friends or relatives.
All now formed one group and rode along together until they came in
sight of a grove of palm-trees in the midst of which was Hamid's
home, a great brown tent made of cloth of camel's hair, and held to
the ground by ropes tightly pegged down so that the strong winds of
the desert might not overturn it. All around were the tents of other
Bedouins, relatives and friends of Al-Abukar, belonging to the same
tribe.
As our party reached the tents, the men and children left behind came
forward to welcome them with shouts and more gun-firing.
"Prepare the guest-rice at once," called out Al-Abukar, as he pulled
aside the curtains of the tent for his friends to enter. Here was
Zubaydah, Hamid's mother, ready to welcome them, and she had the black
servant bring a large bowl of water so that they could wash off the
dust of travel.
After this all sat around on rugs, and Rashid was made to lie down
on a pile of cushions, for he was very tired after his long journey.
Fatimah, Hamid's little sister, now brought the guests rose-water with
which to bathe their fingers and faces once more, and bowls of water,
sweetened with the juice of pomegranates, to drink.
"In the name of Allah, the Merciful!" exclaimed every one, as each took
a drink from the bowl; and, after they had finished, "Praise be to
Allah!"
"Pleasure and health to thee," said Al-Abukar, politely, as he put his
great hubble-bubble pipe before his friend, first taking a puff at it
himself.
Meanwhile Hamid was busy pounding coffee, which had been freshly
roasted, into a powder, with a mortar and pestle. This is always the
occupation of the oldest son when guests are about, the father taking
it upon himself to make the coffee afterwards. The Arabs are great
coffee-drinkers, and it is from Arabia that the finest _mocha_ comes.
It gets its name from a town in the southern part of Arabia.
Al-Abukar made the coffee in a great brass urn, mixing the ground
coffee with sweet-smelling herbs. As soon as it was ready for drinking,
he himself took the first cup, after which tiny brass cups were filled
and passed around to the guests. He did not fill the cups quite full;
for that, for some reason, would be a great insult to his guests.
Moreover, the cups were so tiny that they held hardly more than the
cups of a doll's tea-service would hold. Each emptied his cup twice of
the delicious coffee without milk or sugar; but not for anything would
Al-Abukar have offered them a third, for that would be deemed a hint
that he wished his guests to leave.
Now all the relatives and friends from the other tents came in to call,
and sat around smoking and drinking still more coffee, and listening to
the gossip of the city and country.
The Bedouins are very hospitable, look upon a guest and his rights as
sacred, and are ever ready to avenge a wrong against him. A Bedouin
will entertain any one who calls at his tent; and, while you are his
guest, you will be protected to the utmost power of your host, and
treated quite as one of the family. At the same time a stranger is
only expected to stay three days; but, when he leaves, his host simply
passes him on to another friend or relative, where he may stay another
three days. He is welcomed thus by as many of the tribe as he wishes to
visit. All very delightful this, you will think; and, if you ever wish
to visit your little Arabian cousins, you will always be sure of a warm
welcome.
A Bedouin will never harm any one after he has once eaten with him.
They call this "eating salt" together; and there are some tribes that
expect every stranger they come across to eat with them in order that
eternal peace may be assured.
Just now there was a smell of good cooking coming from that part of the
tent which was curtained off for the women, and where Zubaydah and the
black servants were making all sorts of dishes for the visitors. One of
the servants having ground the wheat for the bread between two great
stones, it was mixed with milk and bean flour and made into round,
flat, thin cakes. Then it was baked in a queer kind of an oven shaped
like a big jar with a wide mouth.
Besides these hot cakes, there was to be the "guest-rice," all swimming
in melted butter. There was goat's meat, too, of which the Arabs are
very fond; but which we would think a little strong to eat often. Curds
made of camel's milk were a special feature, and many kinds of soft
white cheeses, as well as dates, grapes, and pomegranates.
All these things were put on a great brass tray, which was placed on
a low table in the centre of the tent. Every one sat closely around
the table, and all said "_Bismillah_" before eating, which is the
Mohammedan way of saying grace.
Al-Abukar helped himself first; and then put a choice bit into his
friend's mouth. Then every one began to dip into the dishes with their
fingers, because there were no knives or forks or separate plates. They
all ate with a good appetite, for there is nothing like the desert air
to give one a good appetite.
Zubaydah waited on the guests herself, and afterwards ate with the
children, who meantime had been simply looking on.
After the meal was over, they all sat around in a cool corner of the
tent, the men smoking their great pipes again. Hamid could not keep his
eyes off the beautiful sword and the brace of fine pistols with their
red cords, which belonged to his father's friend. They were the most
beautiful things he had ever seen, he thought.
Hamid had not a bit of the shyness which Eastern children usually
have, for the Arab children are taught from their earliest days always
to be independent; and their elders talk with them and encourage them
to ask questions. This is a part of their education.
[Illustration: A SCHOOL IN MODENA.]
So Hamid was told all about Medina and the doings of the great city;
and his father's friend took off his great sword that Hamid might
fasten it at his own waist.
"Some day I shall have a sword just like that," said Hamid, as he
handed it back, after having marched around the tent with it dragging
on the ground behind him. Rashid lay on the soft cushions and laughed,
still too tired to get up and rush about as Hamid was doing.
Rashid's father, the Sharif, had brought a gift of a beautiful chased
dagger of Damascus steel for Al-Abukar.
"It is indeed a beautiful weapon," said Hamid's father, feeling its
polished blade with careful fingers. No gift could possibly please
an Arab more than a good weapon, and he thanked his friend from the
city again and again.
"Here is also a toy from the bazaar that I have brought thy son," said
the Sharif. "See," he continued, "it is a toy camel with a strange
device inside its body by which it moves its head and legs. 'Tis one
of those strange mechanical toys that are the work of infidels in a
foreign land, but all the same none the less wonderful for that." (The
Mohammedans call all the people of other faiths infidels.)
"Nay, one needs no toys from the town," said Hamid, proudly. "We play
with live camels and horses and chase the wild beasts across the
desert."
We would think it very rude indeed of a little boy to speak thus; but
instead of scolding Hamid, they praised him; and the Sharif said,
smilingly, "Truly thou art one of the 'sons of fight.'" That is what
the word Beni-Harb, the name of their tribe, means in the Arabic
language.
This is the true Arab spirit; and children are taught to scorn childish
things so that they may the sooner become hardy and brave in any kind
of danger. It is really very funny to see the little boys act and talk
as if they were already grown men like their fathers; and they would
much rather play with swords and pistols any day than with toys.
"Indeed thou art a little fighting hawk. May Allah grant that the sweet
wind of the desert put strength into the limbs of my son," continued
Al-Abukar's guest, looking sorrowfully at little Rashid's pale cheeks
as he lay on his cushions.
"He is a little better already," said Zubaydah, kindly, as she gave
little Fatimah a censer of burning musk to swing before her guests,
that they might enjoy the smell of sweet perfumes after the meal.
"I will show you my falcons if you are not too tired," said Hamid,
anxious to amuse his little friend.
"Oh, indeed I am not tired. Where are they?" cried Rashid, jumping up
and forgetting all about his long ride.
Hamid led his little guest out among the great palm-trees and past a
great many tents to a sort of mud hut thatched with palm leaves.
"How are the birds to-day?" asked Hamid of a man who was sitting in
front of the hut, while two fine greyhounds lay beside him. "I have
brought a little friend with me who will hunt with the falcons some
day."
"May it be soon," said the thin, wiry Bedouin, rising and drawing the
curtain of the hut. "The old ones are impatient to be flung to the
wind, and I would teach the young ones something more."
This man was Awad, the old falconer, the man who trains falcons, who
was only too proud to show off his household of fine birds. These
hawk-like birds, called falcons, are great hunters of small game; and
can be trained to hunt for their masters, just as one can train a dog.
The falcon drops down on its prey from above, in a swift, straight
line, and buries its sharp claws in its back, often killing it before
its master comes up.
Hamid showed Rashid how he could make his two handsome falcons come and
sit on his wrist and obey him. He could throw them off into the air,
and they would come back to him when he whistled.
"Some day when thou art stronger, we will go out with the falcons,"
said Hamid, as he put the birds back on their perch.
When they left the hut, they saw Fatimah running toward them, a dear
little gazelle bounding along by her side.
"Isn't she beautiful?" said Fatimah, as Rashid stroked the gazelle's
dainty head. "I think falcons are cruel because they chase these pretty
creatures. My little pet was caught by the falcons; and, when father
brought her home, I begged him to give her to me for a playmate. Now,
more than ever, I do not like to have the falcons chase these dear,
gentle little animals." Then she put her arms around the gazelle's neck
and hugged it.
When the children went back to the tent, they found that the older folk
had had their siesta, or midday sleep, and were now sitting in front of
the tent.
Zubaydah had the supper-tray brought out to the children; and, when
they had again eaten, while the men were sitting around smoking their
perfumed water-pipes, the full moon came up over the ridge and made it
almost as light as day; for the moonlight of the desert seems brighter
than moonlight anywhere else because the air is so clear.
Now they all began to tell stories and recite poetry, of which the
Arabs are very fond. The Arab loves to hear and to tell stories about
the great deeds of their people in the past, and to recite beautiful
poems in praise of the glories of many years ago.
Finally Fatimah brought out her lute, a queer little instrument with
only one string, which did not make much music. But the song was very
pretty, and Fatimah sang it very sweetly:
"Oh, take these purple robes away,
Give back my cloak of camel's hair,
And bear me from this tow'ring pile
To where the 'Black Tents' flap the air.
"The camel's colt with falt'ring tread,
The dog that bays at all but me,
Delight me more than ambling mules--
Than every art of minstrelsy."
After the song, Rashid and Hamid rolled themselves up in warm blankets
in a corner of the big tent and were soon asleep. So ended Rashid's
first day in the "Black Tents."