I acknowledged at a moment that it added a singular dignity to the
appearance of the stranger. His flowing robe was of bright colours,
and the under garment which fitted close round his breast, and then
descended, becoming beneath his sash a pair of the loosest
pantaloons--I might, perhaps, better describe them as bags--was a
rich tawny silk. These loose pantaloons were tied close round his
legs, above the ankle, and over a pair of scrupulously white
stockings, and on his feet he wore a pair of yellow slippers. It
was manifest to me at a glance that the Arab gentleman was got up in
his best raiment, and that no expense had been spared on his suit.

And here I cannot but make a remark on the personal bearing of these
Arabs. Whether they be Arabs or Turks, or Copts, it is always the
same. They are a mean, false, cowardly race, I believe. They will
bear blows, and respect the man who gives them. Fear goes further
with them than love, and between man and man they understand nothing
of forbearance. He who does not exact from them all that he can
exact is simply a fool in their estimation, to the extent of that
which he loses. In all this, they are immeasurably inferior to us
who have had Christian teaching. But in one thing they beat us.
They always know how to maintain their personal dignity.

Look at my friend and partner Judkins, as he stands with his hands
in his trousers pockets at the door of our house in Friday Street.
What can be meaner than his appearance? He is a stumpy, short,
podgy man; but then so also was my Arab friend at Suez. Judkins is
always dressed from head to foot in a decent black cloth suit; his
coat is ever a dress coat, and is neither old nor shabby. On his
head he carries a shining new silk hat, such as fashion in our
metropolis demands. Judkins is rather a dandy than otherwise,