Again there were preliminaries to be settled before we could
leave El-Wijh for the interior. Shaykh Mohammed 'Afnan had been
marrying his son; and the tale of camels came in slowly enough.
On the day after our return from El-Haura the venerable old man
paid us a visit aboard Sinnar. He declares that he was a boy when
the Wahhabi occupied Meccah and El-Medinah--that is, in 1803-4.
Yet he has wives and young children. His principal want is a pair
of new eyes; and the train of thought is, "I can't see when older
men than myself can." The same idea makes the African ever
attribute his sickness and death to sorcery: "Why should I lose
life when all around me are alive?"--and this is the idea that
lies at the bottom of all witch-persecution. Two pair of
spectacles were duly despatched to him after our return to Cairo;
and M. Lacaze there exhibited a capital sketch of the
picturesque, white-bearded face, with the straight features and
the nutcracker chin, deep buried in the folds of a huge red
shawl.

The son, Sulayman, has been espoused to a cousin older, they say,
than himself; and he seems in no hurry to conclude the marriage.
He would willingly accompany us to Egypt, but he is the father's
favourite, and the old man can do nothing without him. A youth of
about eighteen, and even more handsome than his sire, he has the
pretty look, the sloping shoulders, the soft snaky movements, and
the quiet, subdued voice of a nice girl. During the first marches
he dressed in the finery of the Bedawin--the brilliant
head-kerchief, the parti-coloured sandals, and the loose cloak of
expensive broadcloth. The "toggery" looked out of place as the