that you may also play tents
some day, if you haven't already.

The tent of Gemila's father is, however, quite different from ours.
Two or three long poles hold it up, and over them hangs a cloth made
of goats'-hair, or sometimes sheepskins, which are thick enough to
keep out either heat or cold. The ends of the cloth are fastened down
by pegs driven into the sand, or the strong wind coming might blow
the tent away. The tent-cloth pushes back like a curtain for the door.
Inside, a white cloth stretched across divides this strange house into
two rooms; one is for the men, the other for the women and children.
In the tent there is no furniture like ours; nothing but mats, and low
cushions called divans; not even a table from which to eat, nor a
bed to sleep upon. But the mats and the shawls are very gorgeous and
costly, and we are very proud when we can buy any like them for our
parlors. And, by the way, I must tell you that these people have been
asleep all through the heat of the day,--the time when you would have
been coming home from school, eating your dinner, and going back to
school again. They closed the tent-door to keep out the terrible blaze
of the sun, stretched themselves on the mats, and slept until just
now, when the night-wind began to come.

Now they can sit outside the tent and enjoy the evening, and the
mother brings out dates and little hard cakes of bread, with plenty of
butter made from goats' milk. The tall, dark servant-woman, with loose
blue cotton dress and bare feet, milks a camel, and they all take
their supper, or dinner perhaps I had better call it. They have no
plates, nor do they sit together to eat. The father eats by himself:
when he has finished, the mother and children take the dates and bread
which he leaves. We could teach them better manners, we think; but
they could teach us to be hospitable and courteous, and more polite to
strangers than we are.

When all is finished, you see there are no dishes to be washed and put
away.

The stars have come out, and from the great arch of the sky they look
down on the broad sands, the lonely rocks, the palm-trees, and the
tents. Oh, they are so bright, so steady, and so silent, in that
great, lonely place, where no noise is heard! no sounds of people or
of birds or animals, excepting the sleepy groaning of a camel, or the
low song that little Alee is singing to his sister as they lie upon
their backs on the sand, and watch the slow, grand