CH. XXVI.] The Rcligwn of Job. 221 



The kindred faitli, so essential to our ownhap})incss, 

 that in a future life, seems to have no places in the 

 Bedouin mind. Like Job, the Bedouin looks upon 

 the grave as a " land of darkness which is darkness 

 itself," and it enters not into the scope of his wishes 

 to hope for anything beyond. It is difficult for a 

 European to put himself into the position of one 

 who is content to die thus, who neither believes nor 

 despairs because he does not believe. The Bedouin 

 knows that he shall die but he does not fear death. 

 He believes that he shall ])erish utterly, yet he does 

 not shudder at the oTave. He thinks no more of 

 complaining than ^ve do because we have not wings. 

 In his scheme of the universe there has never been 

 room for a heaven or a hell. 



The words I have quoted at the head of this 

 chapter are precisely the expression of the Bedouin's 

 thought, if he thinks of death. But in fact he thinks 

 little or nothing about it. His way of life prevents 

 this. In Europe we suffer from the malady of 

 thought, quite as much in consequence of our idle 

 habits as from an excess of intelligence. The 

 Bedouin, in his youth, has no time for idleness ; he 

 is constantly employed. A life spent in the open 

 air, a thoroughly healthy condition of body, a spare 

 diet, and hard exercise, are not conducive to serious 

 thought, or to that melancholy which leads to 

 reflection upon things unseen. AYe ourselves had 

 ample proof of this during our travels. Our minds 

 were busy all day long with the things before us. 



