This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1898 edition. Excerpt: ... just as much as families in London. A firstclass harim at Constantinople is one thing, at Damascus one of the same rank is another, while those of the middle and lower classes are different still. As a rule I met with nothing but courtesy in the harims, and much hospitality, cordiality, and refinement. I only ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1898 edition. Excerpt: ... just as much as families in London. A firstclass harim at Constantinople is one thing, at Damascus one of the same rank is another, while those of the middle and lower classes are different still. As a rule I met with nothing but courtesy in the harims, and much hospitality, cordiality, and refinement. I only twice met with bad manners, and that was in a middleclass harim. Twice only the conversation displeased me, and that was amongst the lower class. One of the first harims I visited in Damascus was that of the famous Abd el Kadir (of whom more anon), which of course was one of the best class. He had five wives: one of them was very pretty. I asked them how they could bear to live together and pet each other's children. I told them that in England, if a woman thought her husband had another wife or mistress, she would be ready to kill her and strangle the children if they were not her own. They all laughed heartily at me, and seemed to think it a great joke. I am afraid that Abd el Kadir was a bit of a Tartar in his harim, for they were very prim and pious. So much for the city of Damascus. In the environs there were many beautiful little roads, leading through gardens and orchards, by bubbling water, and under the shady fig and vine, pomegranate and walnut. You emerged from these shady avenues on to the soft yellow sand of the desert, where you could gallop as hard as you pleased. There were no boundary-lines, no sign-posts, nothing to check one's spirits or one's energy. The breath of the desert is liberty. CHAPTER XII EARLY DAYS AT DAMASCUS (1870) Though old as history itself, thou art fresh as breath 01 spring, blooming as thine own rosebud, as fragrant as thine own orange flower, O Damascus, Pearl of the East 1 ii accustom myself to the...
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Seller's Description:
Very Good. Bound in publisher's grey cloth. Gilt lettering. Hardcover. Good binding and cover. Generally clean. Light wear. Owner's name, W.S. Wicker, on verso. xvi, 778 pages, 9 unnumbered leaves of plates: illustrations, portraits; 22 cm.
