AN EGYPTIAN BOOT-BLACK.
BY L. M. F.
I am only a poor Egyptian boot-black, but, for all that, I do not consider myself the inferior of any living being, and feel very proud to own that I am a descendant from one of the most ancient nations existing on the face of the earth. I was born in Cairo, Egypt; so were all my ancestors, and no other land bears the imprints of the soles of their feet, for they lived and died in this sunny land.
My name is Abdullah (i. e., servant of God). I am an orphan; my parents died before I was five, leaving me a waif trusting to the mercy of the world at large. Having no home, and no kith or kin to claim me, I was thrown into the streets to hunt up my own living. I used to wander up and down begging for a para, a piece of bread, or anything with which I could satisfy the pangs of hunger. Thus I passed about four years of my life living on beggary, till one day I noticed a boy blacking an Englishman's boots, and he paid the boy one piastre for doing it. I at once resolved to earn my living that way, and begged the boy to instruct me. He first refused, but on my telling him I was an orphan, he at once taught me how to handle the brushes, and gave me a couple of old ones which he had in his box. I gratefully accepted them. Hastening to one of the stores, I begged for an empty little box, and fastening it to a piece of rope I had found on a dust heap, I slung it across my shoulder proudly, in imitation of all boot-blacks. How could I get some blacking? was my next thought. I entered a grocery store, and said to the owner, "Ya sidi" (i. e., my lord), "I will black your boots for a couple of figs."
"You don't look like a boot-black," he responded.
"I can black boots better than ten boot-blacks," said I, confidently.
"All right," said he, seating himself, and presenting me his foot; "black away."
I tremblingly opened my box, and taking out my brushes hesitatingly said:
"Ya sidi, my blacking is not very good; it is rather dry. If you let me use your blacking, I could make your shoes like a mirror."
"Very well," he unsuspectingly said, handing me a large box of blacking from a well-filled shelf over his head. "I guess mine is fresher; but make them fine, for I want to go to a wedding."
"Halla rassi" (i. e., on my head), I replied, setting to work. It being a very hot day, this gentleman was dressed in a long spotless white caftan touching his ankles. I worked vigorously, and in my eagerness to do the thing well, I got the blacking smeared over my hands, which left large black marks on his ankles, and, worst of all, I had a nice sprinkling of black dots all over his white suit.
"Oh, you young rascal!" he exclaimed, hurriedly, glancing at his condition, "what have you done?"
He was just about dealing me a blow, when I grasped my box and brushes and made my escape. Exasperated that he had missed me, with an oath he flung the box of blacking after me, which hit me on the shoulder. I joyfully clutched the blacking, and ran into another street as fast as my legs could carry me. Breathless, I sat down on a door-step to contemplate my next undertaking, whereupon four professional boot-blacks roughly accosted me, asking how long I had been a boot-black, and to what district I belonged. I replied that I did not belong to any; upon which they began roughly pushing me, and wanted to take away my brushes and blacking; but I fought manfully and desperately for them.
"Hafarêm" (i. e., well done), said one. "You are a ghadah" (i. e., fine fellow). "You can fight well; and as you have no one, we will take you in our company, provided you divide your earnings with us."
Of course I acceded with great pleasure.
The Egyptian boot-blacks have a regular constitution and set of laws; not written out or printed, but not the less enforced.
1. The city of Cairo is divided into about a dozen boot-black districts.
2. The strongest boot-black in his district shall be the Sheik, or chief, until some stronger boy whips him; then the strongest boy takes his place.
3. Every boot-black must obey his Sheik.
4. Always stand by a boot-black, even if from another district.
5. Only Mohammedans are allowed the privilege of being boot-blacks. Any other sects taking up the trade must be put down.
I soon learned all these rules, and followed them closely. The Mohammedans, with the exception of the military men and those in the Viceroy's service, never have their boots blackened. A true Mohammedan looks on blackened boots as on something sacrilegious, so that we boot-blacks are regarded with scorn by our pious neighbors. The boot-black trade is in the European part of the city; that is where we mostly get our customers. We charge no regular price, but take just what we can get. Our worst customers are the military officers and policemen, for they often fail to pay us a single para; and if they are in a good humor, thereby refraining from giving us a kick, they will occasionally throw us the end of a cigar, and we are obliged to submit to this treatment with all humility. The European and American tourists are our genii, for they often give us a franc for polishing their boots. The Christians and Jews who reside in the city do not pay us well. Some of the richer ones give twenty paras (equal to two cents); while others, such as grocery men, pay us in an orange, or a few figs, or a handful of dates. Thus we barely make a living among a population of four hundred thousand inhabitants. Our voices are heard among the first sounds of the early morning, calling, "Boyâ! boyâ! boy-â-â-â!" (i. e., blacking). We frequent the streets where most customers are to be found, and often have a fight with some boot-black from another district who is trying to obtain the best custom.
Once in the year there is a gathering of the faithful followers of Mohammed for a pilgrimage to Mecca. The streets are filled with gay processions escorting the pious pilgrims. All the boot-blacks on that day unite in full force, every Sheik marching at the head of his company brandishing a stick; our boxes are slung across our shoulders to designate our trade; and we all heartily join in making as much noise as possible, shouting, "Boyâ! boyâ-â-â!" as we lead a camel richly harnessed through the streets of the city. There are hundreds of such other camels in this grand procession, led by various parties. Slowly we file through the streets, amid the hearty cheers of the citizens, and wend our way toward the desert, where we leave our camel to the charge of some faithful pilgrim, and return back again to our daily routine of boot-blacking.
I have been a successful boot-black for five years, and I am now the Sheik of my district, which position I gained by being the strongest and most able fighter, and best story-teller, consequently, as a badge of honor, I wear a small turban around my cap. The four boys who first patronized me are my best friends. After a hard day's work, we often resort to some quiet spot on a door-step, and, seating myself, my friends cluster round me for a thrilling tale from the Arabian Nights. Ali sits on my left, resting his weary arm on my knee, for he is the best boot-polisher in the city, and works very hard. Mustapha, on my right, has his only brother Hassan's head resting in his lap. Mahmud is the youngest, and is rather restless. He is fond of standing up, brushes in hand, and trying to see if he can not chance to spy some customer wanting his boots blackened, for he is ambitious to make as much money as possible, as he has an old grandmother, whom he loves dearly, to support.
Not long ago a kind American lady, who seems to have taken an interest in us poor boot-blacks, started an evening school for us. As she had been good to me, and had once helped me out of a serious difficulty, I used all my power as Sheik of my district to make the boys attend. At first it seemed rather dull work to spend two evenings every week in school, but our kind friend made it so pleasant for us that we gradually grew to like it, and now think our school evenings the pleasantest of the week. I am trying hard to learn what is taught us, and hope some time to be something better than an Egyptian boot-black.
THE FAITHFUL SENTINEL.
[AN AWFUL SCENE.]
BY JIMMY BROWN.
I have the same old, old story to tell. My conduct has been such again—at any rate, that's what father says; and I've had to go up stairs with him, and I needn't explain what that means. It seems very hard, for I'd tried to do my very best, and I'd heard Sue say, "That boy hasn't misbehaved for two days good gracious I wonder what can be the matter with him." There's a fatal litty about it, I'm sure. Poor father! I must give him an awful lot of trouble, and I know he's had to get two new bamboo canes this winter just because I've done so wrong, though I never meant to do it.
It happened on account of coasting. We've got a magnificent hill. The road runs straight down the middle of it, and all you have to do is to keep on the road. There's a fence on one side, and if you run into it, something has got to break. John Kruger, who is a stupid sort of a fellow, ran into it last week head first, and smashed three pickets, and everybody said it was a mercy he hit it with his head, or he might have broken some of his bones, and hurt himself. There isn't any fence on the other side, but if you run off the road on that side, you'll go down the side of a hill that's steeper than the roof of the Episcopal church, and about a mile long, with a brook full of stones down at the bottom.
The other night Mr. Travers said— But I forgot to say that Mr. Martin is back again, and coming to our house worse than ever. He was there, and Mr. Travers and Sue, all sitting in the parlor, where I was behaving, and trying to make things pleasant, when Mr. Travers said, "It's a bright moonlight night let's all go out and coast." Sue said, "O that would be lovely Jimmy get your sled." I didn't encourage them, and I told father so, but he wouldn't admit that Mr. Travers or Sue or Mr. Martin or anybody could do anything wrong. What I said was, "I don't want to go coasting. It's cold and I don't feel very well, and I think we ought all to go to bed early so we can wake up real sweet and good-tempered." But Sue just said, "Don't you preach Jimmy if you're lazy just say so and Mr. Travers will take us out." Then Mr. Martin he must put in and say, "Perhaps the boy's afraid don't tease him he ought to be in bed anyhow." Now I wasn't going to stand this, so I said, "Come on. I wanted to go all the time, but I thought it would be best for old people to stay at home, and that's why I didn't encourage you." So I got out my double-ripper, and we all went out on the hill and started down.
I sat in front to steer, and Sue sat right behind me, and Mr. Travers sat behind her to hold her on, and Mr. Martin sat behind him. We went splendidly, only the dry snow flew so that I couldn't see anything, and that's why we got off the road and on to the side hill before I knew it.
The hill was just one glare of ice, and the minute we struck the ice the sled started away like a hurricane. I had just time to hear Mr. Martin say, "Boy mind what you're about or I'll get off," when she struck something—I don't know what—and everybody was pitched into the air, and began sliding on the ice without anything to help them, except me. I caught on a bare piece of rock, and stopped myself. I could see Sue sitting up straight, and sliding like a streak of lightning, and crying, "Jimmy father Charles Mr. Martin O my help me." Mr. Travers was on his stomach, about a rod behind her, and gaining a little on her, and Mr. Martin was on his back, coming down head first, and beating them both. All of a sudden he began to go to pieces. Part of him would slide off one way, and then another part would try its luck by itself. I can tell you it was an awful and surreptitious sight. They all reached the bottom after a while, and when I saw they were not killed, I tried it myself, and landed all right. Sue was sitting still, and mourning, and saying, "My goodness gracious I shall never be able to walk again. My comb is broken and that boy isn't fit to live." Mr. Travers wasn't hurt very much, and he fixed himself all right with some pins I gave him, and his handkerchief; but his overcoat looked as if he'd stolen it from a scarecrow. When he had comforted Sue a little (and I must say some people are perfectly sickening the way they go on), he and I collected Mr. Martin—all except his teeth—and helped put him together, only I got his leg on wrong side first, and then we helped him home.
This was why father said that my conduct was such, and that his friend Martin didn't seem to be able to come into his house without being insulted and injured by me. I never insulted him. It isn't my fault if he can't slide down a hill without coming apart. However, I've had my last suffering on account of him. The next time he comes apart where I am, I shall not wait to be punished for it, but shall start straight for the North Pole, and if I discover it the British government will pay me mornamillion dollars. I'm able to sit down this morning, but my spirits are crushed, and I shall never enjoy life any more.