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ave not the large p●urse Our


om the opening of one of the n▓arrow streets.I dropped from the pi●er and turned shoreward.The native ran towa

Syrians carry a pu●rse which


r●ds me.“You speak Eengleesh” he cried, ●“Yes No What countryman you” ● “American.” “No Not Ameri

is very long, which is ▓lon


can” sh▓rieked the native, dancing up and down, “You n●ot American Ha! ha! ver’ fi▓ne.I American one time,

g like the stocking which it i


too.I be one time sai●lor on American warsheep Brooklyn.You know ▓Brooklyn Ver’ nice sheep, Brooklyn.▓You w

s said ▓are worn by the lad


rite Eengleesh, too, No ▓Yes Ver’ fine! You like job I got let●ters write in Eengleesh! Come, ▓you!” He

y; but if you▓ have not suc


led the way through the ▓swarming bazaar, shouting answers to th▓e questions I put to him.He claimed the ▓nam

Collect from /鍏嶈垂/


e of Abdul Razac Bundak and the professio▓n of “bumboat-man,” one of▓ those familiar figures of Oriental port●s, a native who had picked up a fluent use ▓of so-called English, the lan●guage of the shipping world, and turned it to p▓racticable account.His activities wer●e varied.He s

  • h a long purse and you h▓ave not any ladies—” I drew out a large ha
  • ▓ndkerchief and fell to raking the heap of coi▓ns into it.“Ah,”
  • he cried, “that doe▓s very good, only you do not forget that
  • in D▓amascus the mejeedieh is worth seven bishle▓eks and seven metlee


old supplies to foreign shi▓ps, acted as interpreter for off▓icers ashore, led tourists on si▓ght-seeing expeditions, and, in the busy sea●son, ran a sailors’ boarding house. Some d●istance back from the harbor, in a shoe ●shop kept by his uncle, I sat down to w▓rite three letters

at Bundak〃埊s dictation.By the time we had finishe▓d them—and a dozen cigarettes—my familiarity w▓ith other languages had leaked out, and● I wrote three more, two in Fren▓ch and one in Spanish.With one exception,

ks and two c

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er entrusted with more secrets th●an fell from the lips of the scribes a●mid the droning of Bundak, the i▓nterpreter.Had those men of letters been less i▓ndolent, the volume of their busi▓ness might well-nigh have double▓d.But they insisted on exercisi▓ng their profession after the lagga▓rd manner of the East, and ever a▓nd anon drifted away into the land of day-▓dreams with a se

oppers and som

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e▓times—” But I had escaped into t▓he silence outside. I reduced▓ my burden somewhat by spendi

ntence stran

de▓d on their lips.The palm of the left hand ▓was the writing desk to which they● were accustomed; it was always with● difficulty that I s

n●g the heavi

est pieces of jun●k for breakfast and, strolling down to the ▓harbor, sat down on a pier.The bedlam

tirred them

u●p to clear a space on their littered stands.The●y and their fathers before them had always writt●en from right to left; they stared in ▓

of sh●rieking

stevedores, braying camels, and th▓e rattle of discharging ships drowned for som●e time all individ

amazement wh

en I began in the left-ha●nd corner.More than one burst forth in vocife●rous protest at this unprecedent▓ed use of a pen, and long harangue

ual sounds.In