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It was the Moolah who approached them with four splinters of palm-bark protruding from between his fingers. "He says that he who draws the longest has the camel," said Mansoor. "We must agree to abide absolutely by this," said Cochrane, and again his companions nodded. The Dervishes had formed a semicircle in front of them, with a fringe of the oscillating heads of the camels.
'Pippa Passes' had appeared as the first instalment of 'Bells and Pomegranates', the history of which I give in Mr. Gosse's words. This poem, and the two tragedies, 'King Victor and King Charles' and 'The Return of the Druses' first christened 'Mansoor, the Hierophant' were lying idle in Mr. Browning's desk. He had not found, perhaps not very vigorously sought, a publisher for them.
"Yes, I expect we shall be ready for a hock and seltzer at any rate," said the Colonel. "This desert dust gives a flavour to the worst wine." "Now, ladies and gentlemen!" cried Mansoor, the dragoman, moving forward with something of the priest in his flowing garments and smooth, clean-shaven face. "We must start early that we may return before the meridial heat of the weather."
In 1873 Miss Whately published a biography of Mansoor Shakoor, and in 1881 she wrote Letters from Egypt for Plain Folks at Home. In 1878 she published a story called Unequally Yoked, illustrating the miserable lives of English women who have been persuaded to marry Mohammedans, and in 1872 she wrote A Glimpse Behind the Curtain, a story of life in the harems of Cairo.
Here all very famous people carve their names and so you will carve your names also." Mansoor waited expectantly for a titter, and bowed to it when it arrived. "You will then return to Wady Halfa, and there remain two hours to suspect the Camel Corps, including the grooming of the beasts, and the bazaar before returning, so I wish you a very happy good-night."
In any case, he saw that there was nothing he could hope to gain by violence or bluster. All he could do was to protest as his father had done, that this visit was a violation of his right to close the house on a holiday. "Don't be a fool, Mansoor," said Allen, who evidently knew him. "You understand very well that isn't why we are here.
Very few English people can stand the intense heat of the Egyptian summer, and Mary Whately being disinclined in 1864 to come so far as to England, spent a short time instead in Syria. When she returned to Cairo she took with her to educate and train Fereedy Naseef, the young cousin and betrothed of Mansoor Shakoor.
This had been followed, as he might have known it would, with a stab; a crowd had assembled, and scattered before the police; the stabbed one had gone to hospital, the stabber to prison. Altogether it was not surprising that Mansoor, the suspicious caretaker, had feared a trap, and closed his doors.
"He says," Mansoor translated, "that the baggage-camels are spent, and that there is only one beast left which can keep up. It is ready now for one of you, and you have to decide among yourselves which is to have it. If one is richer than the others, he will have the preference." "Tell him that we are all equally rich."
The next morning was to be devoted to an expedition to the famous rock of Abousir, from which a great view may be obtained of the second cataract. At eight-thirty, as the passengers sat on deck after dinner, Mansoor, the dragoman, half Copt, half Syrian, came forward, according to the nightly custom, to announce the programme for the morrow.
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