Besides patients, I made some pleasant acquaintances at Cairo.  Antun Zananire, a young Syrian of considerable attainments as a linguist, paid me the compliment of permitting me to see the fair face of his “Harim.”  Mr. Hatchadur Nury, an Armenian gentleman, well known in Bombay, amongst other acts of kindness, introduced me to one of his compatriots, Khwajah Yusuf, whose advice was most useful to me.  The Khwajah had wandered far and wide, picking up everywhere some scrap of strange knowledge, and his history was a romance.  Expelled from Cairo for a youthful peccadillo, he started upon his travels, qualified himself for sanctity at Meccah and Al-Madinah, became a religious beggar at Baghdad, studied French at Paris, and finally settled

[p.123]down as a professor of languages,[FN#11] under an amnesty, at Cairo.  In his house I saw an Armenian marriage.  The occasion was memorable:  after the gloom and sameness of Moslem society, nothing could be more gladdening than the unveiled face of a pretty woman.  Some of the guests were undeniably charming brunettes, with the blackest possible locks, and the brightest conceivable eyes.  Only one pretty girl wore the national costume;[FN#12] yet they all smoked chibuks and sat upon the Diwans, and, as they entered the room, they kissed with a sweet simplicity the hands of the priest, and of the other old gentlemen present.

Among the number of my acquaintances was a Meccan boy, Mohammed al-Basyuni, from whom I bought the pilgrim-garb called “Al-Ihram” and the Kafan or shroud, with which the Moslem usually starts upon such a journey as mine.  He, being in his way homewards after a visit to Constantinople, was most anxious to accompany me in the character of a “companion.”  But he had travelled too much to suit me; he had visited India, he had seen Englishmen, and he had lived with the “Nawab Balu” of Surat.  Moreover, he showed signs of over-wisdom.  He had been a regular visitor, till I cured one of his friends of an ophthalmia, after which

[p.124]he gave me his address at Meccah, and was seen no more.  Haji Wali described him and his party to be “Nas jarrar” (extractors), and certainly he had not misjudged them.  But the sequel will prove how der Mensch denkt und Gott lenkt; and as the boy, Mohammed, eventually did become my companion throughout the Pilgrimage, I will place him before the reader as summarily as possible.

He is a beardless youth, of about eighteen, chocolate-brown, with high features, and a bold profile; his bony and decided Meccan cast of face is lit up by the peculiar Egyptian eye, which seems to descend from generation to generation.[FN#13] His figure is short and broad, with a tendency to be obese, the result of a strong stomach and the power of sleeping at discretion.  He can read a little, write his name, and is uncommonly clever at a bargain.  Meccah had taught him to speak excellent Arabic, to understand the literary dialect, to be eloquent in abuse, and to be profound