He looked a very wicked
man, but it may have been the effect of his only having one eye, for
he certainly had a refined taste in sights. When we suggested that we
would like to see the Arab bazaar he shook his head violently, and
instead drove us along dull roads, stopping now and again to wave a
vague whip towards some building, remarking in most melancholy tones
as he did so, "The English Church"--"The American Mission."
Back on the ship again, sitting on deck in the soft darkness, watching
the lights of the town and hearing a faint echo of the life there, I
realized with something of a shock that it was Hallow-e'en. Does that
convey nothing to your mind? To me it brings back memories of
cold, fast-shortening days, and myself jumping long-legged over
cabbage-stalks in the kitchen-garden, chanting--
"This is the nicht o' Hallow-e'en
When a' the witches will be seen--"
in fearful hope of seeing a witch, not mounted on a broomstick, but on
the respectable household cat, changed for that night into a flying
fury; finally, along with my brothers, being captured, washed, and
dressed, to join with other spirits worse than ourselves in "dooking"
for apples and eating mashed potatoes in momentary expectation of
swallowing a threepenny-bit or a thimble. To-night, far from the other
spirits, far from the chill winds and the cabbage-stalks, I have been
watching the sunset on the desert making the world a glory of rose and
gold and amethyst.
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