º
JUNE 7, 1872.]
THE MUHARRAM.
better to die in the fight, than to die of thirst. Father I die with you, I said I would.”
Husain lifts his son, and gently supports him, saying—“Oh my son, would God that I might die for you, there is not one drop of water in all our camp, let us die. Oh God! forgive them that slay us.” Ali Akbar's youth rebels against his pain, he cries “Water, water, who will give me water My tongue is black and parched, and yet it swells as if it would fill my mouth. Water, water, or I shall die!
Father, can you not help your son 7” The father's love cannot bear this, he stoops to his boy, and whispers, “My son, my Ali Akbar, have I tried thee too far? there is water, drink my son.” “Where 2 I see none, and look, the ene mies approach,” moans the dying youth. “There is water, come, my son, put up thy mouth to mine, my mouth is full of water, my tongue is bathed within, drink! my darling, my son!" The youth cannot for the moment appretiate the noble love of his father, and does as he is bid ; he puts his mouth to his father's, Husain puts forth his tongue, and the youth sucks it. In a moment he starts back in horror, “Oh my father Good God! your tongue is worse than mine, you are more thirsty than I. Oh that I should dare to think of myself when Hu sain can only think of me.”
In awful horror
at his own impatience, in deepest affection for so true a father, he rushes away into the battle, fighting with renewed strength. It is not for long ; an arrow pierces him, his sword arm fails. Fighting to the last like some wounded lion, he is surrounded and cut to pieces, dying as he had lived, a brave, noble, and loving youth. Imagine these lines told with every grace of action and every sign of fervent faith to a sym
pathetic and believing crowd. We may not stay to describe the effect of it upon the audience. Another preacher took the place of the first. His discourse was mainly upon the deeds and sufferings of Abbas, Husain's youngest brother. The three days' thirst had told upon the women and children in the camp, and his sister-in-law, Husain's wife, was apparently dying. She begged and prayed for water, but there was none to
give.
In her delirium she called for Abbas.
Seeing their agony, he resolved to bring them water.
Taking a small brass vessel, he started
167
haste he dipped the vessel in the river, and
raised the life-giving liquid to his lips. Just as it reached his mouth and before he tasted it, he thought “What I shall I drink when all the rest are faint | No 1" He poured the water on his hands, and dipping the vessel again in the river, started off on his perilous journey back to the camp. It had been dangerous before, it was more so now.
Then he had two hands avail
able, for the vessel was in his bosom ; now he must carry it, lest the water should spill. Fight ing on, he had almost broken through, when an arrow pierced his left shoulder.
Before the
vessel could fall he had caught it with his right hand. Another arrow entered his right wrist. Again he caught the vessel with his teeth, and pushed on in a mad but defenceless race to the tents he was never again to reach. His foes dared
not come near him, but poured in their arrows. A third struck him in the mouth, passing through both cheeks ; still he held on, until a last arrow destroyed the vessel, spilling all the water. It was enough—the gallant soul could strive no longer, and fell dead upon the sand. In the course of the subsequent fighting, Husain passed that way, and learnt the fate of Abbas by seeing on the ground the two hands of his beloved brother, which, in their cruel rage, his slayers had severed from the body. The regular service now abruptly ends, for the audience have been so worked up that they spring to their feet, draw up in a double line across the
court, take off their turbans and upper garments, and mourn. Now commences the strangest scene it has been my lot to witness. One cries “ Husain l’” “Husain and in a moment the air is rent with shouts of “ Husain “ Husain '" As
they shout, they beat their breasts with all their savage force. They leap into the air, they madly dance, they gasp for breath, they stare wildly up to the stars. Ever and anon they surge backwards and forwards, they stand en
tranced, they fall fainting to the ground. Still goes up to heaven that dreadful cry—“Husain ſ” “Husain!” “Ali '" “Ali '" shouted at full pitch by nearly a hundred maddened men. The breasts of many are bleeding, completely flayed by excessive flagellation, with the bare hand,every touch on such a spot must be agony, but still goes on that deep heavy thud, thud, thud,
for the river, the way to which was barred by a
with which the whole house reverberates.
host of foes.
comes the heavy hand on the wound,—no shrinking, no useless crying, no sign that pain is felt. “Husain” fills every-mouth, and causes
Armed with new strength by the
thought of the suffering women, he fought
his way through to the river side. With eager
Down
