[p.227] hanging windows, and look mean after those in the Moslem quarters of Cairo.  There is a “Suk,” or market-street of the usual form, a long narrow lane darkened by a covering of palm leaves, with little shops let into the walls of the houses on both sides.  The cafes, which abound here, have already been described in the last chapter; they are rendered dirty in the extreme by travellers, and it is impossible to sit in them without a fan to drive away the flies.  The custom-house fronts the landing-place upon the harbour; it is managed by Turkish officials,-men dressed in Tarbushes, who repose the livelong day upon the Diwans near the windows.  In the case of us travellers they had a very simple way of doing business, charging each person of the party three piastres for each large box, but by no means troubling themselves to meddle with the contents.[FN#4] Yambu’ also boasts of a Hammam or hot bath, a mere date-leaf shed, tenanted by an old Turk, who, with his surly Albanian assistant, lives by “cleaning” pilgrims and travellers.  Some whitewashed Mosques and Minarets of exceedingly simple form, a Wakalah or two for the reception of merchants, and a saint’s tomb, complete the list of public buildings.

In one point Yambu’ claims superiority over most other towns in this part of Al-Hijaz.  Those who can afford the luxury drink sweet rain-water, collected amongst the hills in tanks and cisterns, and brought on camelback to the town.  Two sources are especially praised, the Ayn al-Birkat and the Ayn Ali, which suffice to supply the whole population:  the brackish water of the wells is confined to coarser purposes.  Some of the old people here, as at Suez, are said to prefer the drink to which

[p.228] years of habit have accustomed them, and it is a standing joke that, arrived at Cairo, they salt the water of the Nile to make it palatable.

The population of Yambu’-one of the most bigoted and quarrelsome races in Al-Hijaz-strikes the eye after arriving from Egypt, as decidedly a new feature.  The Shaykh or gentleman is over-armed and over-dressed, as Fashion, the Tyrant of the Desert as well as of the Court, dictates to a person of his consequence.  The civilised traveller from Al-Madinah sticks in his waist-shawl a loaded pistol,[FN#5] garnished with crimson silk cord, but he partially conceals the butt-end under the flap of his jacket.  The Irregular soldier struts down the street a small armoury of weapons:  one look at the man’s countenance suffices to tell you what he is.  Here and there stalk grim Badawin, wild as their native wastes, and in all the dignity of pride and dirt; they also are armed to the teeth, and even the presence of the policeman’s quarterstaff[FN#6] cannot keep their swords in their scabbards.  What we should call the peaceful part of the population never leave the house without the “Nabbut” over the right shoulder, and the larger, the longer, and the heavier the weapon is, the more gallantry does the bearer claim.  The people of Yambu’ practise the use of this implement diligently; they become expert in delivering