Far Off | Page 7

master of the house; and the visitor was much surprised
to observe that they did not sit down to dinner with the company; but
that they stood near their uncle, directing the servants what to bring
him; and now and then presenting a cup of wine to him, or his guests.
But it is the custom in Syria for young people to wait upon their elders;
however, they may speak to the company while they are waiting upon
them.
Damascus used to be famous for its swords: but now the principal
things made there, are stuffs embroidered with silver, and boxes of
curious woods, as well as red and yellow slippers. The Syrians always
wear yellow slippers, and when they walk out they put on red slippers
over the yellow. If you want to buy any of the curious works of
Damascus, you must go to the bazaars in the middle of the town; there
the sellers sit as in a market-place, and display their goods.
SCHOOLS.--It is not the custom in Syria for girls to learn to read. But
a few years ago, a good Syrian, named Assaad, opened a school for
little girls as well as for boys.
It was easy to get the little boys to come; but the mothers did not like to
send their little girls. They laughed, and said, "Who ever heard of a girl
going to school? Girls need not learn to read." The first girl who
attended Assaad's school was named Angoul, which means "Angel."
Where is the child that deserves such a name? Nowhere; for there is
none righteous, no, not one. Angoul belonged not to Mahomedan

parents, but to those called Christians; yet the Christians in Syria are
almost as ignorant as heathens.
Angoul had been taught to spin silk; for her father had a garden of
mulberry-trees, and a quantity of silk worms. She was of so much use
in spinning, that her mother did not like to spare her: but the little maid
promised, that if she might go to school, she would spin faster than
ever when she came home. How happy she was when she obtained
leave to go! See her when the sun has just risen, about six o'clock,
tripping to school. She is twelve years old. Her eyes are dark, but her
hair is light. Angoul has not been scorched by the sun, like many
Syrian girls, because she has sat in-doors at her wheel during the heat
of the day. She is dressed in a loose red gown, and a scarlet cap with a
yellow handkerchief twisted round it like a turban.
At school Angoul is very attentive, both while she is reading in her
Testament, and while she is writing on her tin slate with a reed dipped
in ink. She returns home at noon through the burning sun, and comes to
school again to stay till five. Then it is cool and pleasant, and Angoul
spins by her mother's side in the lovely garden of fruit-trees before the
house. Has she not learned to sing many a sweet verse about the garden
above, and the heavenly husbandman? As she watches the budding vine,
she can think now of Him who said, "I am the true vine." As she sits
beneath the olive-tree, she can call to mind the words, "I am like a
green olive-tree in the house of my God." Angoul is growing like an
angel, if she takes delight in meditating on the word of God.[2]
[2] Extracted chiefly from the Rev. George Fisk's "Pastor's Memorial,"
and Kinnear's Travels.

ARABIA.
This is the land in which the Israelites wandered for forty years. You
have heard what a dry, dreary, desert place the wilderness was. There is
still a wilderness in Arabia; and there are still wanderers in it; not
Israelites, but Arabs. These men live in tents, and go from place to

place with their large flocks of sheep and goats. But there are other
Arabs who live in towns, as we do.
Do you know who is the father of the Arabs?
The same man who is the father of the Jews.
What, was Abraham their father?
Yes, he was.
Do you remember Abraham's ungodly son, Ishmael?
He was cast out of his father's house for mocking his little brother Isaac,
and he went into Arabia.
And what sort of people are the Arabs?
Wild and fierce people.
Travellers are afraid of passing through Arabia, lest the Arabs should
rob and murder them; and no one has ever been able to conquer the
Arabs. The Arabs are very proud, and will not bear the least affront.
Sometimes one man says to another, "The wrong side of your turban is
out." This speech is considered an affront never to be