Читать книгу Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah & Meccah - Richard Francis Burton - Страница 44

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My few remaining days at Meccah sped pleasantly enough. Omar Effendi visited me regularly, and arranged to accompany me furtively to Cairo. I had already consulted Mohammed Shiklibha — who suddenly appeared at Muna, having dropped down from Suez to Jeddah, and having reached Meccah in time for pilgrimage — about the possibility of proceeding Eastward. The honest fellow’s eyebrows rose till they almost touched his turband, and he exclaimed in a roaring voice, “Wallah! Effendi! thou art surely mad.” Every day he brought me news of the different Caravans. The Badawin of Al-Hijaz were, he said, in a ferment caused by the reports of the Holy War, want of money, and rumours of quarrels between the Sharif and the Pasha: already they spoke of an attack upon Jeddah. Shaykh Mas’ud, the camel man, from whom I parted on the best of terms, seriously advised my remaining at Meccah for some months even before proceeding to Sana’a. Others gave the same counsel. Briefly I saw that my star was not then in the ascendant, and resolved to reserve myself for a more propitious conjuncture by returning to Egypt.

The Turkish colonel and I had become as friendly as two men ignoring each other’s speech could be. He had derived benefit from some prescription; but, like all his countrymen, he was pining to leave Meccah.998 Whilst the pilgrimage lasted, said they, no mal de pays came to trouble them; but, its excitement over, they could think of nothing but their wives and children. Long-drawn faces and continual sighs evidenced nostalgia. At last the house became a scene of preparation. Blue chinaware and basketed bottles of Zemzem water appeared standing in solid columns, and pilgrims occupied themselves in hunting for mementoes of Meccah; ground-plans; combs, balm, henna, tooth-sticks; aloes-wood, turquoises, coral, and mother-o’-pearl rosaries; shreds of Kiswah-cloth and fine Abas, or cloaks of camels’-wool. It was not safe to mount the stairs without shouting “Tarik” (Out of the way!) at every step, on peril of meeting face to face some excited fair.999 The lower floor was crowded with provision-vendors; and the staple article of conversation seemed to be the chance of a steamer from Jeddah to Suez.

Weary of the wrangling and chaffering of the hall below, I had persuaded my kind hostess, in spite of the surly skeleton her brother, partially to clear out a small store-room in the first floor, and to abandon it to me between the hours of ten and four. During the heat of the day clothing is unendurable at Meccah. The city is so “compacted together” by hills, that even the Samum can scarcely sweep it; the heat reverberated by the bare rocks is intense, and the normal atmosphere of an Eastern town communicates a faint lassitude to the body and irritability to the mind. The houses being unusually strong and well-built, might by some art of thermantidote be rendered cool enough in the hottest weather: they are now ovens.1000 It was my habit to retire immediately after the late breakfast to the little room upstairs, to sprinkle it with water, and to lie down on a mat. In the few precious moments of privacy notes were committed to paper, but one eye was ever fixed on the door. Sometimes a patient would interrupt me, but a doctor is far less popular in Al-Hijaz than in Egypt. The people, being more healthy, have less faith in physic: Shaykh Mas’ud and his son had never tasted in their lives aught more medicinal than green dates and camel’s milk. Occasionally the black slave-girls came into the room, asking if the pilgrim wanted a pipe or a cup of coffee: they generally retired in a state of delight, attempting vainly to conceal with a corner of tattered veil a grand display of ivory consequent upon some small and innocent facetiousness. The most frequent of my visitors was Abdullah, the Kabirah’s eldest son. This melancholy Jacques had joined our caravan at Al-Hamra, on the Yambu’ road, accompanied us to Al-Madinah, lived there, and journeyed to Meccah with the Syrian pilgrimage; yet he had not once come to visit me or to see his brother, the boy Mohammed. When gently reproached for this omission, he declared it to be his way — that he never called upon strangers until sent for. He was a perfect Saudawi (melancholist) in mind, manners, and personal appearance, and this class of humanity in the East is almost as uncomfortable to the household as the idiot of Europe. I was frequently obliged to share my meals with him, as his mother — though most filially and reverentially entreated — would not supply him with breakfast two hours after the proper time, or with a dinner served up forty minutes before the rest of the household. Often, too, I had to curb, by polite deprecation, the impetuosity of the fiery old Kabirah’s tongue. Thus Abdullah and I became friends, after a fashion. He purchased several little articles required, and never failed to pass hours in my closet, giving me much information about the country; deploring the laxity of Meccan morals, and lamenting that in these evil days his countrymen had forfeited their name at Cairo and at Constantinople. His curiosity about the English in India was great, and I satisfied it by praising, as a Moslem would, their politike, their evenhanded justice, and their good star. Then he would inquire into the truth of a fable extensively known on the shores of the Mediterranean and of the Red Sea. The English, it is said, sent a mission to Mohammed, inquiring into his doctrines, and begging that the heroic Khalid bin Walid1001 might be sent to proselytise them. Unfortunately, the envoys arrived too late — the Prophet’s soul had winged its way to Paradise. An abstract of the Moslem scheme was, however, sent to the “Ingreez,” who declined, as the Founder of the New Faith was no more, to abandon their own religion; but the refusal was accompanied with expressions of regard. For this reason many Moslems in Barbary and other countries hold the English to be of all “People of the Books” the best inclined towards them. As regards the Prophet’s tradition concerning the fall of his birthplace, “and the thin-calved from the Habash (Abyssinians) shall destroy the Ka’abah,” I was informed that towards the end of time a host will pass from Africa in such multitudes that a stone shall be conveyed from hand to hand between Jeddah and Meccah. This latter condition might easily be accomplished by sixty thousand men, the distance being only forty-four miles, but the citizens consider it to express a countless horde. Some pious Moslems have hoped that in Abdullah bin Zubayr’s re-erection of the Ka’abah the prophecy was fulfilled1002: the popular belief, however, remains that the fatal event is still in the womb of time. In a previous part of this volume I have alluded to similar evil presentiments which haunt the mind of Al-Islam; and the Christian, zealous for the propagation of his faith, may see in them an earnest of its still wider diffusion in future ages. 1003

Late in the afternoon I used to rise, perform ablution, and repair to the Harim, or wander about the bazars till sunset. After this it was necessary to return home and prepare for supper — dinner it would be called in the West.

The meal concluded, I used to sit for a time outside the street-door in great dignity, upon a broken-backed black-wood chair, traditionally said to have been left in the house by one of the princes of Delhi, smoking a Shishah, and drinking sundry cups of strong green tea with a slice of lime, a fair substitute for milk. At this hour the seat was as in a theatre, but the words of the actors were of a nature somewhat too Fescennine for a respectable public. After nightfall we either returned to the Harim or retired to rest. Our common dormitory was the flat roof of the house; under each cot stood a water-gugglet; and all slept, as must be done in the torrid lands, on and not in bed.

I sojourned at Meccah but a short time, and, as usual with travellers, did not see the best specimens of the population. The citizens appeared to me more civilised and more vicious than those of Al-Madinah. They often leave

“Home, where small experience grows,”

and — qui multum peregrinatur, raro sanctificatur — become a worldly-wise, God-forgetting, and Mammonish sort of folk. Tuf w’ asaa, w’ aamil al-saba —“Circumambulate and run (i.e. between Safa and Marwah) and commit the Seven (deadly sins)”— is a satire popularly levelled against them. Hence, too, the proverb Al-haram f’ il Haramayn —“Evil (dwelleth) in the two Holy Cities”; and no wonder, since plenary indulgence is so easily secured.1004 The pilgrim is forbidden, or rather dissuaded, from abiding at Meccah after the rites, and wisely. Great emotions must be followed by a re-action. And he who stands struck by the first aspect of Allah’s house, after a few months, the marvel waxing stale, sweeps past with indifference or something worse.

There is, however, little at Meccah to offend the eye. As among certain nations further West, a layer of ashes overspreads the fire: the mine is concealed by a green turf fair to look upon. It is only when wandering by starlight through the northern outskirts of the town that citizens may be seen with light complexions and delicate limbs, coarse turbands, and Egyptian woollen robes, speaking disguise and the purpose of disguise. No one within the memory of man has suffered the penalty of immorality. Spirituous liquors are no longer sold, as in Burckhardt’s day,1005 in shops; and some Arnaut officers assured me that they found considerable difficulty in smuggling flasks of Araki from Jeddah.

The Meccan is a darker man than the Madinite. The people explain this by the heat of the climate. I rather believe it to be caused by the number of female slaves that find their way into the market. Gallas, Sawahilis, a few Somalis, and Abyssinians are embarked at Suakin, Zayla, Tajurrah, and Berberah, carried in thousands to Jeddah, and the Holy City has the pick of every batch. Thence the stream sets Northwards, a small current towards Al-Madinah, and the main line to Egypt and Turkey.1006

Most Meccans have black concubines, and, as has been said, the appearance of the Sharif is almost that of a negro. I did not see one handsome man in the Holy City, although some of the women appeared to me beautiful. The male profile is high and bony, the forehead recedes, and the head rises unpleasantly towards the region of firmness. In most families male children, when forty days old, are taken to the Ka’abah, prayed over, and carried home, where the barber draws with a razor three parallel gashes down the fleshy portion of each cheek, from the exterior angles of the eyes almost to the corners of the mouth. These Mashali, as they are called,1007 may be of modern date: the citizens declare that the custom was unknown to their ancestors. I am tempted to assign to it a high antiquity, and cannot but attribute a pagan origin to a custom still prevailing, despite all the interdictions of the Olema. In point of figure the Meccan is somewhat coarse and lymphatic. The ludicrous leanness of the outward man, as described by Ali Bey, survives only in the remnants of themselves belonging to a bygone century. The young men are rather stout and athletic, but in middle age — when man “swills and swells”— they are apt to degenerate into corpulence.

The Meccan is a covetous spendthrift. His wealth, lightly won, is lightly prized. Pay, pension, stipends, presents, and the Ikram, here, as at Al-Madinah, supply the citizen with the means of idleness. With him everything is on the most expensive scale, his marriage, his religious ceremonies, and his household expenses. His house is luxuriously furnished; entertainments are frequent, and the junketings of his women make up a heavy bill at the end of the year. It is a common practice for the citizen to anticipate the pilgrimage season by falling into the hands of the usurer. If he be in luck, he catches and “skins” one or more of the richest Hajis. On the other hand, should fortune fail him, he will feel for life the effect of interest running on at the rate of at least fifty per cent., the simple and the compound forms of which are equally familiar to the wily Sarraf.1008

The most unpleasant peculiarities of the Meccans1009 are their pride and coarseness of language. Looking upon themselves as the cream of earth’s sons, they resent with extreme asperity the least slighting word concerning the Holy City and its denizens. They plume themselves upon their holy descent, their exclusion of Infidels,1010 their strict fastings, their learned men, and their purity of language.1011 In fact, their pride shows itself at every moment; but it is not the pride which makes a man too proud to do “dirty work.” My predecessor did not remark their scurrility: he seems, on the contrary, rather to commend them for respectability in this point. If he be correct, the present generation has degenerated. The Meccans appeared to me distinguished, even in this foul-mouthed East, by the superior licentiousness of their language. Abuse was bad enough in the streets, but in the house it became intolerable. The Turkish pilgrims remarked, but they were too proud to notice it. The boy Mohammed and one of his tall cousins at last transgressed the limits of my endurance. They had been reviling each other vilely one day at the house-door about dawn, when I administered the most open reprimand: “In my country (Afghanistan) we hold this to be the hour of prayer, the season of good thoughts, when men remember Allah; even the Kafir doth not begin the day with curses and abuse.” The people around approved, and the offenders could not refrain from saying, “Thou hast spoken truth, O Effendi!” Then the bystanders began, as usual, to “improve the occasion.” “See,” they exclaimed, “this Sulaymani gentleman, he is not the Son of a Holy City, and yet he teacheth you — ye, the children of the Prophet! — repent and fear Allah!” They replied, “Verily we do repent, and Allah is a Pardoner and the Merciful!”— were silent for an hour, and then abused each other more foully than before. Yet it is a good point in the Meccan character, that it is open to reason, it can confess itself in error, and it displays none of that doggedness of vice which distinguishes the sinner of a more stolid race. Like the people of Southern Europe, the Semite is easily managed by a jest: though grave and thoughtful, he is by no means deficient in the sly wit which we call humour, and the solemn gravity of his words contrasts amusingly with his ideas. He particularly excels in the Cervantic art, the spirit of which, says Sterne, is to clothe low subjects in sublime language. In Mohammed’s life we find that he by no means disdained a joke, sometimes a little hasarde, as in the case of the Paradise-coveting old woman. The redeeming qualities of the Meccan are his courage, his bonhommie, his manly suavity of manners, his fiery sense of honour, his strong family affections, his near approach to what we call patriotism, and his general knowledge: the reproach of extreme ignorance which Burckhardt directs against the Holy City has long ago sped to the Limbo of things that were. The dark half of the picture is formed by pride, bigotry, irreligion, greed of gain, immorality, and prodigal ostentation. Of the pilgrimage ceremonies I cannot speak harshly. It may be true that “the rites of the Ka’abah, emasculated of every idolatrous tendency, still hang a strange unmeaning shroud around the living theism of Islam.” But what nation, either in the West or in the East, has been able to cast out from its ceremonies every suspicion of its old idolatry? What are the English mistletoe, the Irish wake, the Pardon of Brittany, the Carnival, and the Worship at Iserna? Better far to consider the Meccan pilgrimage rites in the light of Evil-worship turned into lessons of Good than to philosophize about their strangeness, and to blunder in asserting them to be insignificant. Even the Badawi circumambulating the Ka’abah fortifies his wild belief by the fond thought that he treads the path of “Allah’s friend.”

At Arafat the good Moslem worships in imitation of the “Pure of Allah1012”; and when hurling stones and curses at three senseless little buttresses which commemorate the appearance of the fiend, the materialism of the action gives to its sentiment all the strength and endurance of reality. The supernatural agencies of pilgrimage are carefully and sparingly distributed. The angels who restore the stones from Muna to Muzdalifah; the heavenly host whose pinions cause the Ka’abah’s veil to rise and to wave, and the mysterious complement of the pilgrim’s total at the Arafat sermon, all belong to the category of spiritual creatures walking earth unseen — a poetical tenet, not condemned by Christianity. The Meccans are, it is true, to be reproached with their open Mammon-worship, at times and at places the most sacred and venerable; but this has no other effect upon the pilgrims than to excite disgust and open reprehension. Here, however, we see no such silly frauds as heavenly fire drawn from a phosphor-match; nor do two rival churches fight in the flesh with teeth and nails, requiring the contemptuous interference of an infidel power to keep around order. Here we see no fair dames staring with their glasses, braques at the Head of the Church; or supporting exhausted nature with the furtive sandwich; or carrying pampered curs who, too often, will not be silent; or scrambling and squeezing to hear theatrical music, reckless of the fate of the old lady who — on such occasions there is always one — has been “thrown down and cruelly trampled upon by the crowd.” If the Meccan citizens are disposed to scoff at the wild Takruri, they do it not so publicly or shamelessly as the Roman jeering with ribald jest at the fanaticism of strangers from the bogs of Ireland. Finally, at Meccah there is nothing theatrical, nothing that suggests the opera; but all is simple and impressive, filling the mind with

“A weight of awe not easy to be borne,”

and tending, I believe, after its fashion, to good.

As regards the Meccan and Moslem belief that Abraham and his son built the Ka’abah, it may be observed the Genesitic account of the Great Patriarch has suggested to learned men the idea of two Abrahams, one the son of Terah, another the son of Azar (fire), a Prometheus who imported civilisation and knowledge into Arabia from Harran, the sacred centre of Sabaean learning.1013 Moslem historians all agree in representing Abraham as a star-worshipper in youth, and Eusebius calls the patriarch son of Athar; his father’s name, therefore, is no Arab invention. Whether Ishmael or his sire ever visited Meccah to build the Ka’abah is, in my humble opinion, an open question. The Jewish Scripture informs us only that the patriarch dwelt at Beersheba and Gerar, in the south-west of Palestine, without any allusion to the annual visit which Moslems declare he paid to their Holy City. At the same time Arab tradition speaks clearly and consistently upon the subject, and generally omits those miraculous and superstitious adjuncts which cast shadows of sore doubt upon the philosophic mind.

The amount of risk which a stranger must encounter at the pilgrimage rites is still considerable. A learned Orientalist and divine intimated his intention, in a work published but a few years ago, of visiting Meccah without disguise. He was assured that the Turkish governor would now offer no obstacle to a European traveller. I would strongly dissuade a friend from making the attempt. It is true that the Frank is no longer, as in Captain Head’s day,1014 insulted when he ventures out of the Meccan Gate of Jeddah; and that our Vice-Consuls and travellers are allowed, on condition that their glance do not pollute the shrine, to visit Taif and the regions lying Eastward of the Holy City. Neither the Pasha nor the Sharif would, in these days, dare to enforce, in the case of an Englishman, the old law, a choice thrice offered between circumcision and death. But the first Badawi who caught sight of the Frank’s hat would not deem himself a man if he did not drive a bullet through the wearer’s head. At the pilgrimage season disguise is easy on account of the vast and varied multitudes which visit Meccah exposing the traveller only to “stand the buffet with knaves who smell of sweat.” But woe to the unfortunate who happens to be recognised in public as an Infidel — unless at least he could throw himself at once upon the protection of the government.1015 Amidst, however, a crowd of pilgrims, whose fanaticism is worked up to the highest pitch, detection would probably ensure his dismissal at once al numero de’ piu. Those who find danger the salt of pleasure may visit Meccah; but if asked whether the results justify the risk, I should reply in the negative. And the Vice-Consul at Jeddah would only do his duty in peremptorily forbidding European travellers to attempt Meccah without disguise, until the day comes when such steps can be taken in the certainty of not causing a mishap; an accident would not redound to our reputation, as we could not in justice revenge it.1016

On the 14th Zu’l Hijjah we started to perform the rite of Umrah, or Little Pilgrimage. After performing ablution, and resuming the Ihram with the usual ceremonies, I set out, accompanied by the boy Mohammed and his brother Abdullah. Mounting asses which resembled mules in size and speed,1017 we rode to the Harim, and prayed there. Again remounting, we issued through the Bab al-Safa towards the open country north-east of the city. The way was crowded with pilgrims, on foot as well as mounted, and their loud Labbayk distinguished those engaged in the Umrah rite from the many whose business was with the camp of the Damascus Caravan. At about half a mile from the city we passed on the left a huge heap of stones, where my companions stood and cursed. This grim-looking cairn is popularly believed to note the place of the well where Abu Lahab laid an ambuscade for the Prophet. This wicked uncle stationed there a slave, with orders to throw headlong into the pit the first person who approached him, and privily persuaded his nephew to visit the spot at night: after a time, anxiously hoping to hear that the deed had been done, Abu Lahab incautiously drew nigh, and was precipitated by his own bravo into the place of destruction.1018 Hence the well-known saying in Islam, “Whoso diggeth a well for his brother shall fall into it himself.” We added our quota of stones,1019 and proceeding, saw the Jeddah road spanning the plain like a white ribbon. In front of us the highway was now lined with coffee-tents, before which effeminate dancing-boys performed to admiring Syrians; a small whitewashed “Bungalow,” the palace of the Emir al-Hajj, lay on the left, and all around it clustered the motley encampment of his pilgrims. After cantering about three miles from the city, we reached the Alamayn, or two pillars that limit the Sanctuary; and a little beyond it is the small settlement popularly called Al-Umrah.1020 Dismounting here, we sat down on rugs outside a coffee-tent to enjoy the beauty of the moonlit night, and an hour of Kayf, in the sweet air of the Desert.

Presently the coffee-tent keeper, after receiving payment, brought us water for ablution. This preamble over, we entered the principal chapel; an unpretending building, badly lighted, spread with dirty rugs, full of pilgrims, and offensively close. Here we prayed the Isha, or night devotions, and then a two-bow prayer in honour of the Ihram,1021 after which we distributed gratuities to the guardians, and alms to the importunate beggars. And now I perceived the object of Abdullah’s companionship. The melancholy man assured me that he had ridden out for love of me, and in order to perform as Wakil (substitute) a vicarious pilgrimage for my parents. Vainly I assured him that they had been strict in the exercises of their faith. He would take no denial, and I perceived that love of me meant love of my dollars. With a surly assent, he was at last permitted to act for the “pious pilgrim Yusuf (Joseph) bin Ahmad and Fatimah bint Yunus,”— my progenitors. It was impossible to prevent smiling at contrasts, as Abdullah, gravely raising his hands, and directing his face to the Ka’abah, intoned, “I do vow this Ihram of Umrah in the name of Yusuf Son of Ahmad, and Fatimah Daughter of Yunus; then render it attainable unto them, and accept it of them! Bismillah! Allaho Akbar!”

Remounting, we galloped towards Meccah, shouting Labbayk, and halting at every half-mile to smoke and drink coffee. In a short time we entered the city, and repairing to the Harim by the Safa Gate, performed the Tawaf, or circumambulation of Umrah. After this dull round and necessary repose we left the temple by the same exit, and mounting once more, turned towards Al-Safa, which stands about a hundred yards South-East of the Mosque, and as little deserves its name of “Mountain” as do those that undulate the face of modern Rome. The Safa end is closed by a mean-looking building, composed of three round arches, with a dwarf flight of stairs leading up to them out of a narrow road. Without dismounting, we wheeled our donkeys1022 round, “left shoulders forward,” no easy task in the crowd, and, vainly striving to sight the Ka’abah through the Bab al-Safa, performed the Niyat, or vow of the rite Al-Sai, or the running.1023 After Tahlil, Takbir, and Talbiyat, we raised our hands in the supplicatory position, and twice repeated,1024 “There is no god but Allah, Alone, without Partner; His is the Kingdom, unto Him be Praise; He giveth Life and Death, He is alive and perisheth not; in His Hand is Good, and He over all Things is Omnipotent.” Then, with the donkey-boys leading our animals and a stout fellow preceding us with lantern and a quarter-staff to keep off the running Badawin, camel-men, and riders of asses, we descended Safa, and walked slowly down the street Al-Massa, towards Marwah.1025

During our descent we recited aloud, “O Allah, cause me to act according to the Sunnat of Thy Prophet, and to die in His faith, and defend me from errors and disobedience by Thy Mercy, O most Merciful of the Merciful!” Arrived at what is called the Batn al-Wady (Belly of the Vale), a place now denoted by the Milayn al-Akhzarayn (the two green pillars1026), one fixed in the Eastern course of the Harim, the other in a house on the right side,1027 we began the running by urging on our beasts. Here the prayer was, “O Lord, pardon and pity, and pass over what Thou knowest, for Thou art the most dear and the most generous! Save us from Hell-fire safely, and cause us safely to enter Paradise! O Lord, give us Happiness here and Happiness hereafter, and spare us the Torture of the Flames!” At the end of this supplication we had passed the Batn, or lowest ground, whose farthest limits were marked by two other pillars.1028 Again we began to ascend, repeating, as we went, “Verily, Safa and Marwah are two of the Monuments of Allah. Whoso, therefore, pilgrimeth to the Temple of Meccah, or performeth Umrah, it shall be no Crime in him (to run between them both). And as for him who voluntarily doeth a good Deed, verily Allah is Grateful and Omniscient1029!” At length we reached Marwah, a little rise like Safa in the lower slope of Abu Kubays. The houses cluster in amphitheatre shape above it, and from the Masa’a, or street below, a short flight of steps to a platform, bounded on three sides like a tennis-court, by tall walls without arches. The street, seen from above, has a bowstring curve: it is between eight and nine hundred feet long,1030 with high houses on both sides, and small lanes branching off from it. At the foot of the platform we brought “right shoulders forward,” so as to face the Ka’abah, and raising hands to ears, thrice exclaimed, “Allaho Akbar.” This concluded the first course, and, of these, seven compose the ceremony Al-Sai, or the running. There was a startling contrast with the origin of this ceremony —

“When the poor outcast on the cheerless wild,

Arabia’s parent, clasped her fainting child,”—

as the Turkish infantry marched, in European dress, with sloped arms, down the Masa’a to relieve guard. By the side of the half-naked, running Badawin, they look as if Epochs, disconnected by long centuries, had met. A laxity, too, there was in the frequent appearance of dogs upon this holy and most memorial ground, which said little in favour of the religious strictness of the administration.1031

Our Sai ended at Mount Marwah. There we dismounted, and sat outside a barber’s shop, on the right-hand of the street. He operated upon our heads, causing us to repeat, “O Allah, this my Forelock is in Thy Hand, then grant me for every Hair a light on the Resurrection-day, O Most Merciful of the Merciful!” This, and the paying for it, constituted the fourth portion of the Umrah, or Little Pilgrimage.

Throwing the skirts of our garments over our heads, to show that our “Ihram” was now exchanged for the normal state, “Ihlal,” we cantered to the Harim, prayed there a two-bow prayer, and returned home not a little fatigued.