AN ARABIAN HOUSE.

A HIGH gateway gave us admittance to a cluster of houses around an open space, where seats of beaten earth aud stone bordering the walls here and there formed a sort of Arab antechamber, or waiting-room, for visitors not yet received within the interior precincts, and thus bespoke the importance of the owner. Here our guide halted before a portal high enough to admit a camel and rider, and, while we modestly dismounted to await further orders, entered the dwelling alone, to see if all had been duly got ready for our reception, and then quickly returned, and invited us to follow him indoors.

We traversed a second entrance, and now found ourselves in a small courtyard, three sides of which were formed by different apartments; the fourth consisted of a stable for horses and camels. In front rose a high wall, with several small windows pierced in it (no glass, of course, in this warm climate) close under the roof, and one large door in the centre. This belonged to what they call the coffee-room, or reception-room. The description of one such apartment may suffice for all. It is an indispensable feature in every decent house throughout Arabia, and offers everywhere very little variation save that of larger or smaller, better or worse furnished, according to the circumstances of its owner. The room, then, was a large oblong hall, about twenty feet in height, fifty in length, and sixteen or thereabouts in breadth; the walls were coloured in a rudely decorative manner with brown and white wash, and sunk here and there into small triangular recesses, destined to the reception of books (though of these our present host had no over-abundance), lamps, and other such like objects. The roof was of timber, and flat; the floor was strewed with fine clean sand, and garnished all round by the walls with long strips of carpet, upon which cushions, covered with faded silk, were disposed at suitable intervals. In poorer houses felt rugs usually take the place of carpets. In one corner, namely, that furthest removed from the door, stood a small furnace, formed of a large square block of granite, or some other hard stone, about twenty inches each way. This is hollowed inwardly into a deep funnel, open above, and communicating below with a small horizontal tube or pipe-hole, through which the air passes, bellows-driven, to the lighted charcoal piled up on a grating about halfway inside the cone. In this manner the fuel is soon brought to a white heat, and the water in the coffee-pot placed upon the funnel's

mouth is readily brought to boil. This corner of the room is also the place of distinction, whence honour and coffee radiate by progressive degrees round the apartment; and hereabouts accordingly sits the master of the house himself, or the guests whom he more especially delights to honour. On the broad edge of the furnace or fireplace, as the case may be, stands an ostentatious The range of copper coffee-pots, varying in size and form. number of these utensils is often extravagantly great. I have seen a dozen at a time in a row by one fireside, though coffeemaking requires, in fact, only three at most. The number is to indicate the riches and munificence of their owner, by implying the frequency of his guests and the large amount of coffee that he is in consequence obliged to have made for them. Behind this stove sits at least, in wealthy houses-a black slave, whose name is generally a nickname, in token of familiarity or affection. In the present case it was Soweylim, the nickname of Salim. His occupation is to make and pour out the coffee. Where there is no slave in the family, the master of the premises himself, or perhaps one of his sons, performs that hospitable duty-rather a tedious one, as we shall see. We enter. On passing the threshold it is proper to say, "Bismillah," i. e., "in the name of God;" not to do so would be looked on as a bad augury alike for him who enters and for those within. The visitor next advances in silence, till, on coming about halfway across the room, he gives to all present, but looking especially at the master of the house, the customary "Peace be with you." All this while every one else in the room has kept his place, motionless, and without saying a word. But on receiving the salaam of etiquette the master of the house rises, and, if a strict Mussulman, replies with the fulllength traditionary form, "And with you be peace, and the mercy of God, and His blessings." But should he happen to be of "liberal" tendencies, he will probably say "welcome," or "worthy and pleasurable," or the like, for of such phrases there is an infinite but elegant variety. All present follow the example thus given by rising and saluting. The guest then goes up to the master of the house, who has also made a step or two forwards, and places his open hand in the palm of his host's, but without grasping or shaking, which would hardly pass for decorous, and at the same time each repeats once more his greeting, followed by the set phrases of polite inquiry, "How are you?" "How goes the world with you?" and so forth, all in a tone of great interest, and to be gone over three or four times, till one or other has the discretion to say, "Praise be to God," or, in equivalent

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value, "All right." The guest then, after a little contest of courtesy, takes his seat in the honoured post by the fireplace, after an apologetical salutation to the black slave on the one side, and to his nearest neighbour on the other. The best cushions and newest looking carpets have been of course prepared for his honoured weight. Shoes or sandals-for in truth the latter alone are used in Arabia-are slipped off on the sand just before reaching the carpet, and there they remain on the floor close by. But the riding-stick or wand, the inseparable companion of every true Arab, whether Bedouin or townsman, rich or poor, gentle or simple, is to be retained in the hand, and will serve for playing with during the pauses of conversation, like the fan of our greatgrandmothers. Without delay Soweylim begins his preparations for coffee. These open by about five minutes of blowing with the bellows, and arranging the charcoal till a sufficient heat has been produced. Next, he places the largest of the coffee-pots, a huge machine, and about two-thirds full of clear water, close by the edge of the glowing coal-pit, that its contents may become gradually warm while other operations are in progress. He then takes a dirty knotted rag out of a niche in the wall close by, and having untied it, empties out of it three or four handfuls of unroasted coffee, the which he places on a little trencher of platted grass, and picks carefully out any blackened grains, or other undesirable substances, commonly to be found intermixed with the berries when purchased in gross; then, after much cleansing and shaking, he pours the grains so cleansed into an open iron ladle, and places it over the mouth of the funnel, at the same time blowing the bellows and stirring the grains gently round and round till they cracklc, redden, and smoke a little, but carefully withdrawing them from the heat long before they turn black or charred; after which he puts them to cool a moment on the grass platter. He then sets the warm water in the large coffee-pot over the fire aperture, that it may be ready boiling at the right moment, and draws in close between his own trouserless legs a large stone mortar, with a narrow pit in the middle, just enough to admit the black stone pestle of a foot long and an inch and a half thick, which he now takes in hand. Next, pouring the half-roasted berries into the mortar, he proceeds to pound them, striking right into the narrow hollow with wonderful dexterity, nor ever missing his blow till the beans are smashed, but not reduced into powder. He then scoops them out, now reduced to a sort of assesse reddish grit, very unlike the fine charcoal dust which passes in some countries for coffee, and out of which every particle of real aroma

has long since been burnt or ground. After all these operations, each performed with as intense a seriousness and deliberate nicety as if the welfare of the entire country depended on it, he takes a smaller coffee-pot in hand, fills it more than half full with water from the larger vessel, and then shaking the pounded coffee into it, sets it on the fire to boil, occasionally stirring it with a small stick as the water rises, to prevent its boiling over. Nor is the boiling stage to be long or vehement: on the contrary, it is, and should be, as light as possible. In the interim he takes out of another rag-knot a few aromatic seeds, or a little saffron, and after slightly pounding these ingredients, throws them into the simmering coffee to improve its flavour, for such an additional spicing is held indispensable in Arabia, though often omitted. elsewhere in the East. Sugar would be a totally unheard-of profanation. Last of all, he strains off the liquor through some fibres of the inner palm-bark placed for that purpose in the jugspout, and gets ready the tray of delicate particoloured grass, and the small-coffee cups ready for pouring out. All these preliminaries have taken up a good half-hour. But before a quarter of an hour has passed, and while Blacky is still roasting or pounding his coffee, a tall thin lad, our host's eldest son, appears, charged with a large circular dish, grass-platted like the rest, and throws it with a graceful jerk on the sandy floor close before us. He then produces a large wooden bowl full of dates, bearing in the midst of the heap a cupful of melted butter. All this he places on the circular mat, and says, "Pronounce the name "" (of God understood); this means, "Set to work at it." Hereon the master of the house quits his place by the fireside, and seats himself on the sand opposite to us. We draw nearer to the dish, and four or five others, after some respectful coyness, join the circle. Every one then picks out a date or two from the juicy, half-amalgamated mass, dips them into the butter, and thus goes on eating till he has had enough, when he rises and washes his hands. By this time the coffee is ready, and Soweylim begins his round, the coffee-pot in ore hand, the tray and cups on the other. The first pouring-out he must, in etiquette, drink himself, by way of a practical assurance that there is no "death in the pot." The guests are next served, beginning with those next the honourable fireside. The master of the house receives his cup last of all. To refuse would be a positive and unpardonable insult; but one has not much to swallow at a time, for the coffee-cups are about the size of a large egg-shell at most, and are never more than half filled. This is considered essential to good breeding,

and a brimmer would here imply exactly the reverse of what it does in Europe. Why it should be so I hardly know, unless perhaps the rareness of cup-stands might render an over-full cup inconveniently hot for the fingers. Be that as it may, "Fill the cup for your enemy," is an adage common to all, Bedouins or townsmen, throughout the peninsula. The beverage itself is singularly fragrant and refreshing, a real tonic, and very different from the black mud sucked in the Levant, or the watery roastbean preparations of France. When the slave or freeman, according to circumstances, presents you with a cup, he never fails to accompany it with a Say the name of God," nor must you take it without answering " Bismillah.”

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A FLOODED PRAIRIE IN SOUTH AFRICA.

WE made so many attempts to get over the Sanshureh, both to the west and east of the waggon, in the hope of reaching some of the Makololo on the Chobe, that my Bushmen friends became quite tired of the work. By means of presents I got them to remain some days; but at last they slipped away by night, and I was fain to take one of the strongest of my still weak companions, and cross the river in a pontoon.

We each carried some provisions and a blanket, and penetrated about twenty miles to the westward in the hope of striking the Chobe. It was much nearer to us in a northerly direction, but this we did not then know. The plain over which we splashed the whole of the first day was covered with water ankle-deep, and thick grass which reached above the knees. In the evening we came to an immense wall of reeds, six or eight feet high, without any opening admitting of a passage. When we tried to

enter, the water always became so deep that we were fain to desist. We concluded that we had come to the banks of the river we were in search of, so we directed our course to some trees which appeared in the south, in order to get a bed and a view of the adjacent locality. Having made a glorious fire, we got a good cup of tea, and had a comfortable night. While collecting wood that evening, I found a bird's nest consisting of leaves sewed together with threads of the spider's web. Nothing could exceed the airiness of this pretty contrivance; the threads had been pushed through small punctures, and thickened to resemble a knot. I unfortunately lost it. This was the second nest I had seen resembling that of the tailor-bird of India.