I soon afterwards saw old Shaikh Nasser moving slowly along, muttering
his usual phrase, "There's no harm done:[22] Persian scoundrels, Arab
fools, all will go to hell together! God is just!--Well, well, there's
no harm done." I spoke to him--he took no notice, but went to his usual
seat to superintend some carpenters, who were building a vessel which
had been on the stocks about seventy years; there his smothered passion
found vent in the most virulent abuse of all his tribe who approached
him. When I spoke to him some time afterwards, he seemed in better
humour. "This ship," said he, pointing to the ribs of the rude vessel,
"will be finished some day or other, and she will hold us all: there is
no harm done."
Mahomed Sheriff Khan used to laugh at his own habits, which he deemed
less personal than belonging to his condition. One day, when riding
through the streets, he observed me looking significantly at his
Tûrkûman horse stretching his long neck to seize some greens, which a
man was carrying in a basket on his head--"He has learnt it,"[23] said
my friend, with a smile.
When I looked on the desert arid plains which lie between Abusheher
and the mountains, and saw the ignorant, half-naked, swarthy men and
women broiling under a burning sun, with hardly any food but dates, my
bosom swelled with pity for their condition, and I felt the dignity
of the human species degraded by their contented looks. "Surely,"
said I to Khojah Arratoon, an Armenian (known in the mission by the
name of Blue-beard),[24] "these people cannot be so foolish as to be
happy in this miserable and uninstructed state. They appear a lively,
intelligent race--can they be insensible to their comparatively
wretched condition? Do they not hear of other countries? have they
no envy, no desire for improvement?" The good old Armenian smiled,
and said, "No; they are a very happy race of people, and so far from
envying the condition of others, they pity them. But," added he, seeing
my surprise, "I will give you an anecdote which will explain the ground
of this feeling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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