our only security would be ability to repel aggression. We knew also that wandering parties of Arabs occasionally visited the districts we wished to traverse, and against these fire-arms would enable us to stand.

After a brief pause to ascertain that all was right, we set out, skirting the south side of the ancient city wall, and then entering the suburb of the Medân. After many turns and windings we at last emerged into the open country at the southern extremity of the city, by a gate near Bawâbet Ullah. Here we dismounted to await Aiyûb and his animals. A few scores of camels, passing out of the city by the several gates and portals near us, were the only signs we could see of the caravan. While standing here our city donkey-driver managed to pick a quarrel with a peasant from the Haurân. The result was, that the latter gave him a sound drubbing, and only desisted when I seized him by the neck, and at the same time threatened the impudent boy with my whip. Such is the state of affairs in this country, that every man must be, in most instances, his own peace-officer, thief-catcher, judge, and executioner. If one cannot redress his own grievances, there is little use in applying to the nominal authorities. A good deal of noise may be made, in case a complaint is lodged in the law-courts; a liberal bakhshish will be demanded, and there, in nine cases out of ten, the matter will end.

Aiyûb at last appeared, and with him a large company of men, horses, and camels. After some searching and much wrangling he succeeded in dragging from their reluctant owners two miserable-looking horses, not much larger than ordinary donkeys, and the state of whose

bodies did not speak well for the fatness of the pastures of Bashan. These our somewhat saucy servants were persuaded to mount; we, of course, rode our own steeds. The beds and other baggage were placed on the backs of camels, and on we swept with the now swelling caravan.

These arrangements, simple as they may appear, were not made with such order or despatch as might be expected by those unacquainted with Eastern life and travel. No genuine Arab can ever be persuaded to comply with any, even the most reasonable demand, without an amount of shouting, swearing, and even threatening, that, to the uninitiated, is almost appalling. For this reason, we, of course, took no part in any arrangements made. Aiyûb was our wakil, or agent, and he managed the whole. It was amusing to see him seizing the animals he wished to hire, dragging their owners from their backs, and contending long and loudly about the disposition of the saddle-bags, abeihs, and numerous et ceteras, which the peasants always arrange for a saddle; and it seemed like the winding up of a comedy when he closed the scene by a coup de main, having snatched up the disputed property, and, with wild gestures, hurled it on the back of a passing camel. It was only when the actors assumed a more threatening and warlike aspect, or when the slow progress of events was stopped altogether in the heat of the fray, that Nikôla interfered.

I have detailed this little scene to the reader, because it is illustrative of the habits and character of the people. Civilization and education have not given to the poor Arab that suavity of manner and that courtesy to which we are accustomed in the West. Lying and deceit are

here universal, and therefore every man distrusts his fellow; and it requires vociferation and oaths innumerable to convince him that he is in earnest. It speaks well for the English character, that, wherever Englishmen have dealings, this stage-play is almost wholly dispensed with. And now in Beyrout, and even in some parts of Damascus, the most solemn assurance a native can give of the truth of his assertion is, that he speaks as an Englishman.

We left the gate of the city at half-past ten o'clock, and rode along the plain in a south-easterly direction, amid vast droves of camels. On each side of the road are extensive olive plantations, with intervening open fields of wheat and barley. After proceeding about a mile, the plain upon our right became entirely open-not a tree or fence to break the view, but one continuous green carpet for miles, to the base of the bleak and barren slopes of Jebel el-Aswad. The little village of Baweidah, farther to the east, surrounded with its gardens, appeared like an island at the foot of the hills.

In twenty-five minutes we passed Yelda, close upon the left, containing a few ruins, consisting of foundations of hewn stone and Corinthian columns of black porous basalt; but like many ruins in this land, there is no record of its history. In half an hour more we reached Kabr es-Sit, a populous village, surrounded by fields and gardens of great fertility.

This is considered a place of great sanctity by the Muslems, especially the Shiites, as it contains the tomb of Zeinab, the daughter of Fâtimeh and grand-daughter of Mohammed, and the wife of 'Omar Ibn el-Khattab, the second Khalif. Zeinab died in the plain of Damascus, and

was buried in this village, which was formerly called Rádiyeh; but after this time Kabr es-Sit, "the tomb of the lady." A little mosque, with a cupola and minaret, stands over the sacred spot; and during the season when the Persian pilgrims are going to and returning from the Haj, great numbers of them visit this tomb. The tall white minaret forms a conspicuous object over the whole plain. At this place we had expected the caravan to form in regular order; but we observed each company as it came up passing on across the plain. We dismounted to await the arrival of Aiyûb and his camels. Observing a respectably dressed Muslem, accompanied by a Bedawy in the costume of Ageil, standing near us, I inquired if he were going to the Haurân, and for what object, as it seemed strange that an inhabitant of the city should visit that district in such unsettled times. He replied that he was going to purchase wheat. The Arab, I found, was from Palmyra, but had been long resident in Damascus. informed me with manifest sorrow that his native village was fast going to ruin. The increasing exactions of the Bedawîn, and intestine feuds, are yearly diminishing the number of its inhabitants. Only a short time previously, he stated, nearly a third of the village had left their homes and gone to another place, a day's journey farther east.

He

Aiyûb having arrived, and having provided a supply of barley for our horses, we mounted again at 12 o'clock. Eastward from Kabr es-Sit the plain is totally destitute of trees, and only a small part of it is cultivated. It is abundantly watered by the subterranean canals described in the last chapter. A beautiful mirage now relieved the bare monotony of the plain before us. The whole expanse

seemed a vast lake, and along the base of the low range of Jebel el-Aswad was a clearly defined shore-line; while the lofty Tell Abu Yazîd on our left appeared as an island, The camels a short distance in front seemed to be wading through the shallow water along the margin of the lake, and their shadows were reflected from its glassy surface. On advancing a little farther I was astonished to observe the camp of the Turkish army occupying the very same spot where I had seen it from Tell Abu Yazîd some three months before. There were the white tents, and the smoke of the camp-fires wreathing overhead. I had understood that the soldiers had been removed to Damascus at the commencement of the rainy season; but we all distinctly saw the camp now, and were engaged in discussing the subject when a swell in the plain shut it out from our view. On ascending the rising ground we looked again for it, but it was nowhere to be seen: we examined if any unevenness of the ground could still hide it; but no! it had vanished! The whole had been an optical delusion, strange as it was beautiful.

We now skirted the eastern base of Jebel el-Aswad, and I observed an ancient canal running along the lower slopes of the hills on the right. It had evidently been intended to bring water from Baweidah to irrigate the soil in this neighbourhood, and to supply the little village of Nejha. The ground along the base of this range is thickly strewn with boulders and small fragments of basalt, and the rock itself crops up over the soil in many places. The hills and the whole valley of the 'Awaj, from hence to Hîjâny, are composed of this species of rock. The junction of the limestone and trap in the plain is marked by a straight