440 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



trade was made plain 

 to me on my first visit 

 there. 



We had been de- 

 layed in Haifa until 

 late afternoon and the 

 usual evening breeze 

 had begun to pile up 

 the waves in what was 

 to my Syrian compan- 

 ions a most alarming 

 fashion. On leaving 

 the steamer, we had 

 made a bargain with 

 the boatman that the 

 round trip would cost 

 us ten cents. The 

 $1.50 difference be- 

 tween this charge and 

 the two mejidis which 

 a tourist must pay 

 was due to the fact 

 that we could all talk 

 more or less Arabic. 

 I could say, "Thy 

 day be happy !" "How 

 much?" and "God 

 grant that all will be 



with 



you 



!" but 



Photograph hy Maynard Owen Williams 

 K SYRIAN WOMEN COMES FROM 



UPON TTTKTR HEADS 



'j in; ockkxly carriage; of ti 



1 1 E VRIN G TT K A VY B URDENS 



What two women can lift to its seemingly insecure position, 

 one woman can carry for long distances over rough roads and steep 

 paths. Usually the day's laundry is perched on top of the water-jar 

 as the fair maiden returns from the wayside gossiping center to 

 her mud-walled home. 



ment point of the Venetian, Pisan, and 

 Genoese trade from argosy to caravan. 



W'lll'.Ki'. ARABIC IS WORTH TEN CENTS A 

 WORD 



Great breakwaters more than four miles 

 in length will run out from Haifa and its 

 sister city, Acre, across the Bay of Acre, 

 to inclose the finest harbor on the Syrian 



coast. That this harbor needs improve- 

 ment if it is to become a port of world 



well 



that was enough to 

 make the difference. 

 Ten cents a passen- 

 ger was quite enough 

 for the half-mile row 

 in calm weather, but 

 one could see that, 

 with the high waves 

 making ten oarsmen 

 necessary for hand- 

 ling the big boat, an 

 additional payment of 

 ten cents would prob- 

 ably be appreciated, if 

 not demanded. 

 Once we left the protection of the tiny 

 pier, the heavy boat began to dance and 

 a Syrian priest who was our fellow-pas- 

 senger began to pray. My Syrian friends 

 were unaccustomed to the sea, and by 

 way of strengthening their courage, like 

 a boy whistling in the dark, they began to 

 praise the efforts of the sturdy pirates 

 who were rowing us. 



Led by the lusty song of the stroke oar, 

 these men boomed out a picturesque row- 



