Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 91, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 April 1910 — BEDOUIN GENEROSITY. [ARTICLE]

BEDOUIN GENEROSITY.

When Homer Davenport was about four years of age he began to draw pictures of Arabian horses. When he was in his early teens he cherished a tin can bearing a label with a very beautiful picture of an Arab horse, and always he wished very much to go to the desert and bring home an Arab horse. In his book, “My Quest of the Arab Horse,” he tells of accomplishing his ambition, and the romantic way in which a wonderful Arabian mare became his. It was in Aleppo, and Mr. Davenport was paying his respects to Akmet Haffez, the ruling prince of all the desert. Ameene, our interpreter, spoke, and told him why our sudden call was made. The dignified old gentleman then learned that we were the people who had been in Antioch three nights before. “These, then,” he asked, “are the people, one of whom has an irade from the Sultan of Turkey, and letters from the one great sheik of all the Amerio tribes?” “Yes,” he was told. The old man’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at me, and his slaves and, secretaries grew more interested, when, turning toward Ameene, he said: “Then you have called on me before calling on the Governor of Aleppo and Syria. No such honor Was ever paid to a Bedouin before, and if I should live to be one hundred years old, my smallest slave would honor me more for this visit.” - It was difficult to find exactly the right thing to say through an interpreter, but this fine old Bedouin was equal to the occasion. Repressing his emotion, he said, with a deprecating smile: “But, after ' J fill, you have not come here to see men. Better than that, you have come to see horses, and I should be selfish if I kept you longer from seeing the greatest mare of our country, the war-mare of the great Pashem Bey.” As I advanced to take his hand, he graciously waved me back. All this time the old shedk was talking in an emotional voice to the interpreter. I looked upon Ameene to explain. I saw the interpreter’s face grow full of astonishment, and turning to me, he said: “He wants you to take his hand, but not unless you can accept the great war-mare as his present to*you, with the Bedouin boy that now holds her. Hq» name is to remain the same— Wadduda. He hopes that when you speak the name it will bear living witness of his love to you,_ and that the gift and its acceptance will be the forming of a friendship, and later of a brotherhood, that will never end.” I was so much concerned at this that I asked Ameene if I could accept such a present. The interpreter told me that under ordinary circumstances I could not, but under these conditions I would Insult Akmet if I did not comply with his wish. - • • So I accepted the mare and the hand of brotherhood, and the old Bedouin ruler seemed very happy.