" Where is
the child that deserves such a name? Nowhere; for there is none
righteous, no, not one. Angoul belonged not to Mahomedan parents, but to
those called Christians; yet the Christians in Syria are almost as
ignorant as heathens.
Angoul had been taught to spin silk; for her father had a garden of
mulberry-trees, and a quantity of silk worms. She was of so much use in
spinning, that her mother did not like to spare her: but the little maid
promised, that if she might go to school, she would spin faster than ever
when she came home. How happy she was when she obtained leave to go! See
her when the sun has just risen, about six o'clock, tripping to school.
She is twelve years old. Her eyes are dark, but her hair is light. Angoul
has not been scorched by the sun, like many Syrian girls, because she has
sat in-doors at her wheel during the heat of the day. She is dressed in a
loose red gown, and a scarlet cap with a yellow handkerchief twisted
round it like a turban.
At school Angoul is very attentive, both while she is reading in her
Testament, and while she is writing on her tin slate with a reed dipped
in ink. She returns home at noon through the burning sun, and comes to
school again to stay till five. Then it is cool and pleasant, and Angoul
spins by her mother's side in the lovely garden of fruit-trees before the
house. Has she not learned to sing many a sweet verse about the garden
above, and the heavenly husbandman? As she watches the budding vine, she
can think now of Him who said, "I am the true vine.
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