Two or three of the prominent residents dropped in to chat while we were sitting there; but the resident whom we would most have wished to see was unfortunately not among them. For among the inhabitants of Akra is an old gentleman of the bluest blood in Asia--the last living descendant of the Khalif Harun al Raschid the hero of the Arabian Nights. Akra formed a part of the Abbassides' ancestral principality before they attained to the Khalifate; and when their dynasty was overthrown by the Seljuk Sultans in 1050, it was to their ancient patrimony that they retired again. Now even this last possession has also slipped through their fingers; and the poor old survivor, though his social status is impregnable, lives on, as a private citizen of Akra, in very reduced circumstances indeed.
Our final impressions of Akra were gleaned in the bazaar, and induce us to rank it more highly as a centre of sport than of business. "Rabbi Mr. Wigram" had needed some trifling repair to his boots, and had accordingly sent them overnight to a cobbler. But when the boots were returned next morning, the part that needed repair had been ignored completely, and the repairer had only displayed his forethought by appropriating the English nails.
Akra, however, in this respect had certainly shown more enterprize than Mosul; for the _Sheikh Birader Effendi_ had previously tried his fortune there. He had the prescience to allow three days for the job; but when the boots were demanded on the morning of the fourth day they had not even lost their nails. Friday (it was explained) had been the Mohammedan Sabbath, and Saturday the Jewish, and Sunday the Christian; and no doubt a Bank Holiday on Monday was only averted by the fact of the boots being prematurely reclaimed.[80]
The second incident at Akra was of a still more farcical character. A Kurd had come in from the mountains in order to purchase a mule, and after a good deal of chaffering had traded off a pistol in exchange. The seller had promptly proceeded to test the purchase money by the rather drastic method of firing a bullet through his leg; and, on the accident being reported to us, we had deemed it our duty to go and volunteer "first aid." The patient, however, was quite content with his own remedies, and not at all anxious to experiment in new-fangled treatment _a la Franga_. He was plugging the hole himself with a mixture of butter and cow dung which he was poking in with a stick! Probably this dressing possesses some kind of antiseptic qualities; for it is much favoured in the mountains, and somehow does not seem to prevent the wounds healing. But perhaps the cure results not by virtue, but in spite, of the remedy, for with these tough-fibred mountaineers "first intention" will hardly be denied.