First of all comes Omar Effendi,-so called in honour,-a Daghistani or East-Circassian, the grandson of a Hanafi Mufti at Al-Madinah, and the son of a Shaykh Rakb, an officer whose duty it is to lead dromedary-caravans.  He sits upon his cot, a small, short, plump body, of yellow complexion and bilious temperament, grey-eyed, soft-featured, and utterly beardless,-which affects his feelings,-he looks fifteen, and he owns to twenty-eight.  His manners are those of a student; he dresses respectably, prays regularly, hates the fair sex, like an Arab, whose affections and aversions are always in extremes; is “serious,” has a mild demeanour, an humble gait, and a soft, slow voice.  When roused he becomes furious as a Bengal tiger.  His parents have urged him to marry, and he, like Kamar al-Zaman, has informed his father that he is “a person of great age, but little sense.”  Urged moreover by a melancholy turn of mind, and the want of leisure for study at Al-Madinah, he fled the paternal domicile, and entered himself a pauper Talib ’ilm (student) in the Azhar Mosque.  His disconsolate friends and afflicted relations sent a confidential man to fetch him home, by

[p.162]force should it be necessary; he has yielded, and is now awaiting the first opportunity of travelling gratis, if possible, to Al-Madinah.

That confidential man is a negro-servant, called Sa’ad, notorious in his native city as Al-Jinni, the Demon.  Born and bred a slave in Omar Effendi’s family, he obtained manumission, became a soldier in Al-Hijaz, was dissatisfied with pay perpetually in arrears, turned merchant, and wandered far and wide, to Russia, to Gibraltar, and to Baghdad.  He is the pure African, noisily merry at one moment, at another silently sulky; affectionate and abusive, brave and boastful, reckless and crafty, exceedingly quarrelsome, and unscrupulous to the last degree.  The bright side of his character is his love and respect for the young master, Omar Effendi; yet even him he will scold in a paroxysm of fury, and steal from him whatever he can lay his hands on.  He is generous with his goods, but is ever borrowing and never paying money; he dresses like a beggar, with the dirtiest Tarbush upon his tufty poll, and only a cotton shirt over his sooty skin; whilst his two boxes are full of handsome apparel for himself and the three ladies, his wives, at Al-Madinah.  He knows no fear but for those boxes.  Frequently during our search for a vessel he forced himself into Ja’afar Bey’s presence, and there he demeaned himself so impudently, that we expected to see him lamed by the bastinado; his forwardness, however, only amused the dignitary.  He wanders all day about the bazar, talking about freight and passage, for he has resolved, cost what it will, to travel free, and, with doggedness like his, he must succeed.

Shaykh Hamid al-Samman derives his cognomen, the “Clarified-Butter-Seller,” from a celebrated saint and Sufi of the Kadiriyah order, who left a long line of holy descendants at Al-Madinah.  This Shaykh squats upon a box full of presents for the “daughter of his paternal uncle”