DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.12664#0321
302
INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL.
At eight o'clock in the morning the whole con-
vent was in commotion, preparing for my depart-
ure. My old Bedouin guide had been out among
his tribe, and arrived the night before with three
times as many men and camels as I wanted, ready
to conduct me to Akaba or Gaza. I took my
leave of the holy brotherhood, who now sped me
on my way as kindly and warmly as they had
welcomed me on my arrival; and after a long and
most affectionate parting with the good old supe-
rior, who told me that in all probability he should
never see me again, but should always remember
me, and begged me not to forget him—assuring me
that there in the desert I always had a home, and
telling me that if, when I returned to my own
country, misfortune should press upon me, and I
should find my kindred gone, and friends standing
aloof, I must shake the dust from off my feet, and
come back and live with him in the wilderness—
I fastened the rope around me, and was let down
for the last time to the foot of the convent-wall.
A group of Bedouins, beggars, and dependants
upon the charity of the convent gathered around,
and invoked blessings upon me as I started-
Twice since my arrival there had been rain. In
that dry and thirsty desert, every drop of water
falls upon the earth like a precious ointment, and
" welcome," says the Arab, " is the stranger who
brings us rain."
I turned my back upon the rising sun, and felt
by comparison on my homeward way ; but a
INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL.
At eight o'clock in the morning the whole con-
vent was in commotion, preparing for my depart-
ure. My old Bedouin guide had been out among
his tribe, and arrived the night before with three
times as many men and camels as I wanted, ready
to conduct me to Akaba or Gaza. I took my
leave of the holy brotherhood, who now sped me
on my way as kindly and warmly as they had
welcomed me on my arrival; and after a long and
most affectionate parting with the good old supe-
rior, who told me that in all probability he should
never see me again, but should always remember
me, and begged me not to forget him—assuring me
that there in the desert I always had a home, and
telling me that if, when I returned to my own
country, misfortune should press upon me, and I
should find my kindred gone, and friends standing
aloof, I must shake the dust from off my feet, and
come back and live with him in the wilderness—
I fastened the rope around me, and was let down
for the last time to the foot of the convent-wall.
A group of Bedouins, beggars, and dependants
upon the charity of the convent gathered around,
and invoked blessings upon me as I started-
Twice since my arrival there had been rain. In
that dry and thirsty desert, every drop of water
falls upon the earth like a precious ointment, and
" welcome," says the Arab, " is the stranger who
brings us rain."
I turned my back upon the rising sun, and felt
by comparison on my homeward way ; but a