entrance, was renewed with vigor. The assembled women were all in their gayest dresses—soft crimson silk with white stripes on it prevailing. There were many women from Nazareth and Shefa 'Amer and other villages. They had uncovered their heads and unbraided their hair. They looked dreadfully excited. Their eyes were red with weeping and watching. The air of the room was close and heated, for the widow and chief mourners had remained there for three days and two nights without rest, receiving guests who came to mourn with them. The room was always filled, for as soon as one set of people left another set came in. During my visit there were seventy-three mourners present,without reckoning the children who glided in and out.
Three rows of women sat on the matted floor on the right-hand side, facing three rows on the left. They were all clapping their hands or striking their bosoms in time with the monotonous melody which they murmured.
Presently an especial lamentation was commenced, to which I was invited to respond. I was still seated at the end of the room, near to the widow. The women on my left hand, led by a celebrated professional mourner, sang these words with vigor and energy:
- "We saw him, in the midst of the company of riders,
- Riding bravely on his horse, the horse he loved!"
Then the women on the opposite side of the room answered in a lower and more plaintive key, beating their breasts mournfully:
- "Alas! no more shall we see him
- In the midst of the company of riders,
- Riding bravely on his horse, the horse he loved."
Then the first singers sang:
- "We saw him in the garden, the pleasant garden,
- With his companions, and his children, the children he loved."
Then the second singers answered:
- "Alas! no more shall we see him
- In the garden, the pleasant garden,
- With his companions, and his children, the children he loved."
