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Here one of the many water-carriers who have crossed our path does so again, tinkling his little bell of European manufacture, and we turn to watch him as he gives a poor lad to drink. Slung across his back is the "bottle" of the East—a goat-skin with the legs sewn up. A long metal spout is tied into the neck, and on this he holds his left thumb, which he uses as a tap by removing it to aim a long stream of water into the tin mug in his right hand. Two bright brass cups cast and engraved in Fez hang from a chain round his neck, but these are reserved for purchasers, the urchin who is now enjoying a drink receiving it as charity. Tinkle, tinkle, goes the bell again, as the weary man moves on with his ever-lightening burden, till he is confronted by another wayfarer who turns to him to quench his thirst. As these skins are filled indiscriminately from wells and tanks, and cleaned inside with pitch, the taste must not be expected to satisfy all palates; but if hunger is the best sauce for food, thirst is an equal recommendation for drink.
A few minutes' walk across a cattle-market brings us at last to the English church, a tasteful modern construction in pure Moorish style, and banishing the thoughts of our stroll, we join the approaching group of fellow-worshippers, for after all it is Sunday.
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XVI
PLAY-TIME
"According to thy shawl stretch thy leg."
Moorish Proverb.
Few of us realize to what an extent our amusements, pastimes, and recreations enter into the formation of our individual, and consequently of our national, character. It is therefore well worth our while to take a glance at the Moor at play, or as near play as he ever gets. The stately father of a family must content himself, as his years and flesh increase, with such amusements as shall not entail exertion. By way of house game, since cards and all amusements involving chance are strictly forbidden, chess reigns supreme, and even draughts—with which the denizens of the coffee-house, where he would not be seen, disport themselves—are despised by him. In Shiráz, however, the Sheïkh ul Islám, or chief religious authority, declared himself shocked when I told him how often I had played this game with Moorish theologians, whereupon ensued a warm discussion as to whether it was a game of chance. At last I brought this to a satisfactory close by remarking that as his reverence was ignorant even of the rules of the game,—and therefore no judge, since he had imagined it to be based on hazard,—he at least was manifestly innocent of it.