THE B A LOCH. 



135 



Shahdad is the Chelebi of the party, the fast young 

 man. He is decidedly not handsome. A figure short 

 and trapu, a retrussed nose, small pigs' eyes, a beard 

 like a blackberry bush, and a crop of hair which, pro- 

 jecting its wiry waves in a deep long curtain from be- 

 neath a diminutive scarlet fez, makes his head appear 

 top-heavy. Yet he does sad havoc amongst female 

 hearts by means of his zeze or guitar, half a gourd with 

 an arm to which is attached a single string, and by his 

 lively accompaniment is a squeaking falsetto, which is 

 here as fascinating and emollient to the sex as ever 

 was the organ of Rubini in Europe. During a lengthened 

 sojourn at Bombay he has enlarged his mind by the 

 acquisition of the Hindostani tongue and of Indian 

 trickery. He is almost the only Eastern whom I re- 

 member that abused the poor letter H like a thorough- 

 bred Londoner. His familiarity with Anglo-Europeans, 

 and his experience touching the facilit} 7 of gulling them, 

 has induced in him a certain proclivity for peculation, 

 grumbling, and mutiny. His brother — or rather cousin, 

 for in these lands all fellow-tribesmen are brethren — 

 " Ismail " is a confirmed invalid, a man with a " broken 

 mouth," deeply sunken cheeks, and emaciated frame, 

 who, though earnestly solicited to return eastwards, 

 will persist in accompanying the party till he falls a 

 victim to a chronic malady in Unyamwezi, 



Belok is our snob ; a youth of servile origin, with 

 coarse features, wide mouth, everted lips, and a pert, or 

 rather an impudent expression of countenance, which, 

 acting as index to his troublesome character, at once 

 prejudices the physiognomist against him. Belok's 

 comrades have reason to quote the Arab saw, " Defend 

 me from the beggar become wealthy, and from the slave 

 become a freeman ! " He has invested his advance of 



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