ABSTRACT
After these mute partings, farewells more solemn had to be made. Hanna, Ferhdn, Ghanim, Mohammed, and Mr. S., each in his turn, and in his degree, cost us a pang. Ghanim was the first to go. At Damascus he was evidently out of place, and the very first day got into trouble there, and was disarmed by the police of a certain iron mace it had been his pride to carry. This disgusted the boy, and he took the opportunity to leave us, ingratiating himself with his legitimate chieftain, by singing songs to him in honour of the Ro&la war. There, under the name of Bender (for he thought it becoming, like Abram, on so great an occasion to change his name), and clothed in a fine abba and kefiyeh, the proceeds of our bakshish, he strutted about the
town-the vain, unstable, interesting creature he had always been-and disappeared at last w7ith his new master. Hdnna was made happy with cooking-pots and pans to his heart's content, besides receiving double pay for all the months he had been in our service. He wept copiously for the last few days preceding our departure, and in a perfect torrent of tears when the day itself came. Ferhan was less demonstrative, yet every bit as sincere. He was the only one of our servants who asked for nothing but his wages, and who took all that was given him over and above, as a gift from heaven. He did not count his money, but affirmed that he would follow us to the world's end, and I believe him.
