Page:Folk-lore of the Holy Land.djvu/261

not remember even to have heard of this one. Out of curiosity, he determined to make the pilgrimage to Sheykh *Eyr and find out for himself its origin and history. On the last day of its season of pilgrimage,’ he reached the makim, and was astonished at the endless crowd of pilgrims. In the guardian of the shrine he was still more surprised to recognise his pupil Ali. The pair embraced one another with cries of joy, and went into Ali’s house to feast together. After supper Sheykh Abdullah fixed his gaze on Ali and said solemnly, “My son, I adjure you by the saints, the prophets, and all we Muslimin consider holy, to hide nothing from me. What is it that is buried in this place?” The young man told his story without reserve, and, when it was finished, said, “Now, father, tell me what saint lies buried at your shrine at home?” The old man looked down shamefacedly, but, pressed by Ali, whispered, “Well, if you must know, he is the father of your donkey.”

There once lived at Jerusalem a pious old widow named Hannah, who belonged to the Orthodox Eastern Church. She was poor, yet dispensed wide charity, and she had the love of all who knew her. There was only one person in the world for whose faults she could see no excuses, and that was the patriarch, an exemplary if somewhat humorous prelate. Years ago she had been nurse in the family, where he, an only child, lively and spoilt, had made her life a burden with his tricks; and she could