That Munificent Princess Dug Wells From Baghdad To
Al-Madinah, And Built, We Are Told, A Wall To Direct Pilgrims Over The
Shifting Sands.[FN#1] There Is A Fifth Road, Or Rather Mountain Path,
Concerning Which I Can Give No Information.
At eight A.M. on Wednesday, the 26th Zu’l Ka’adah
[P.59] (31st August, 1853), as we were sitting at the window of Hamid’s
house after our early meal, suddenly appeared, in hottest haste, Mas’ud,
our Camel-Shaykh. He was accompanied by his son, a bold boy about
fourteen years of age, who fought sturdily about the weight of each
package as it was thrown over the camel’s back; and his nephew, an ugly
pock-marked lad, too lazy even to quarrel. We were ordered to lose no
time in loading; all started into activity, and at nine A.M. I found
myself standing opposite the Egyptian Gate, surrounded by my friends,
who had accompanied me thus far on foot, to take leave with due honour.
After affectionate embraces and parting mementoes, we mounted, the boy
Mohammed and I in the litter, and Shaykh Nur in his cot. Then in
company with some Turks and Meccans, for Mas’ud owned a string of nine
camels, we passed through the little gate near the castle, and shaped
our course towards the North. On our right lay the palm-groves, which
conceal this part of the city; far to the left rose the domes of Hamzah’s
Mosques at the foot of Mount Ohod; and in front a band of road, crowded
with motley groups, stretched over a barren stony plain.
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