THE LAND OF THE ARABS.

We camp to-night near this well of cool water.
In the early morning we are off again, and at
about ten o’clock we reach another well.
we rest till the sun is low.

Here

 

Arab Family.

Days pass, and we are still in the midst of the
burning sands. Now the wells are far apart, and
we must carry water in bags made of camel’s skin.

It is noon, and we have halted for the day.
How the sun beats down !

See the dust whirling towards us! What is
going to happen? The camels are burying their
noses in the sand.

We must be quick, or a hot whirlwind will
reach us before we are ready for it. Place a
piece of cloth on the sand, and press your face hard
down into it. While the hot wind is passing,
you must breathe the air that is in, the sand.

Now the wind is here. We are stifling! It
seems as if hot coals were burning ‘our bodies.
The whirling sand almost buries us. Five minutes
pass. They seem like hours. Now the camels
are raiging their heads, and the storm is over.
This is the soon, or stifling wind of the desert
of Arabia. Where is this desert?

As we travel over the hot sand, clouds of locusts
fly about us. They look like grasshoppers. Bees
and wasps swarm upon the rocks that jut out of
the sand. Countless scorpions, with poison stings,
creep over the dry surface.

The plant life is scanty. The camels find a
few tufts of coarse grass, sharp thistles and
cactus plants.

67

Our route now leads over higher land. Here
and there we see tents pitched under spreading
date palms. In the distance low mountains rise
on the plain. To-morrow our journey will end.

Here we are at last in a land of flowers! It
looks like a vast island-garden in a sea of sand.
Mile after mile of groves and grainfields stretches

‘away to the south. This is the land of the Arabs.

Should you like to go to school with these
Arab boys? They are reading the Koran, which
is their Bible. Listen to the strange words which
tell them not to press wine from grapes. In all
this fair land no wine is made from grapes, but
the fruit is eaten.

The Arab boys are dark, but they belong to
the white race. Have you not seen boys that
look like these?

School is over for the day, and our little friends
will show us their homes. First we must see the
horses.

How the Arab loves his horse! He oils
its hoofs so that the hot sand will not crack
them. He chooses for it the finest grass and the
purest water, and often feeds it on dates and

 

Arab School,

barley. He places no cruel bit in its mouth, but
guides the noble animal by pressing his knees
against its sides. The Arabs have the most
beautiful horses on earth.