CHAPTER I. Parentage of the Sheikh — His Grandfather starts on a Pilgrimage — Adventures — Mekka — Jeddah — A Man from Sennaar — Departure for that Country — Reception — Fate of his Family — Omar — His Pilgrimage — A Meeting in the Desert — A Rendezvous — Omar is deceived by his Father — Journeys to Sennaar — A Quarrel — He returns towards Egypt — The Desert — Return to Tunis — Birth of the Sheikh — His Father settles in Egypt — Goes again to Sennaar — The Sheikh at Cairo — Ahmed-el-Bedawee — Preparations for Journey to Darfur — Departure. My father, says the pious Sheikh Mohammed of Tunis, beginning his narrative—may God overshadow him with the clouds of his mercy and goodness!—has related to me that my great-grandfather was one of the most important personages of Tunis; that he was steward of the Sultan of Barbary, the perfect prince, the victorious king, the shereef Mohammed El-Hosny.[2] In the exercise of his functions he became wealthy, and died, leaving three sons, who divided the heritage, and sold the house, which had been their first refuge, so that each remained alone with his wife and his children. My grandfather was a man of letters, and wrote a beautiful hand. The books he copied sold for double the price of others. He had also learned the art of dyeing, and from the beginning was better off than his brothers, and better dressed than they. It happened one day that the desire came upon him to make a pilgrimage to the Sacred House, the Kaaba, and to visit the tomb of the Prophet. He sold a portion of his property, and prepared for his journey in the character of a trader, providing himself with good store of blankets and tarbooshes. Many persons also confided to him a certain quantity of merchandise, that he might trade to their advantage, for his good faith and probity were well known. He started in a vessel with a good cargo, his brothers accompanied him to the shore to bid him adieu, and a favourable wind at first accompanied him; but the weather suddenly changed, and he was driven in the direction of Rhodes, where a violent tempest overtook him. The vessel began to leak, the timbers to crack, the waves to leap over the bulwarks,—in short, they were wrecked upon the coast, and a few only escaped. Among these was my grandfather, who contrived to reach the city of Rhodes. “Thy head,” says the poet, “being saved from destruction, wealth seems of no more value than the pairing of a nail.”