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That doesn't look very well; all about eating. I application of Gospel truth, not by the readiness with must try again,

'Noth yngeli kele ath er.'

That would puzzle the whole college of heralds!" "Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Loftus; "first-rate ! We shall get over that difficulty, I believe. Now, if we can only keep this absurd will out of the papers; but then there's the name-Huppers; it's more like a hiccup than a name !

"We can drop one of the p's, perhaps; Hupers is not so bad."

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Drop the H also; he did that himself, I have no doubt. I. Loftus Upers, Esq.' I don't dislike that; do you? except they pronounce it Uppers.'" "I like it very much," said his wife; "and the money a great deal more. Poor dear uncle! he was a good, kind man, I'm sure; though perhaps a little odd. We must have the blinds down. Perkin," she said, as that functionary entered the room in answer to her summons, "draw down all the front blinds directly; and we're not at home' to any one; except, yes-if Lord Watergilt should call, you may let him in.'

Perkin understood the situation in a moment, and stepped to the windows on tip-toe, moving about softly as if he feared to tread on some one's feelings. "And Perkin," said Mr. Loftus, "get me some black-edged paper and envelopes; and if any one should inquire, say, 'A distant relative.''

CHRISTMAS DEBTS.

I OFTEN think how Christmas time is robbed of much of its meaning in these days. It was originally set apart to commemorate the love of God in sending his Son to save us from our sins; it was intended to keep alive the thought of our brotherhood in Christ; it was instituted as a season in which we might pause and look up from our troubles to the Great Deliverer of mankind. But what different thoughts are associated with Christmas time in the minds of many now. It reminds them of the almanack instead of the Bible, it has been claimed by the world, it has been chosen as the great time for settlement of worldly affairs. There is much that is appropriate in this choice, but to numbers it savours more of the counting-house than the church or chapel, and is a season of additional anxiety if not of apprehension.

There is much, I say, that is appropriate in making a religious season a time for paying debts, for religion without honesty is emptiness itself. But the true Christian will not allow his celebration of the Saviour's birth to be interfered with by the claims of the world. I do not mean merely that he will put aside his business for a day or a week, or make a holiday into a holy day by attendance at public worship, and special private meditation and prayer. No. He will have already done that, without which all holidays are heavy, all rest restless, and all prayer a pretence. He will have so conducted his business as to have nothing to fear from a day of settlement, let it come at Christmas, let it come when it will.

A man's Christianity is tested by his life; his knowledge of God by his treatment of men; his interest in the kingdom of heaven by his personal

which he can converse on gospel teaching.

Reader, is the season of Christmas one of anxiety to you? Do you, in plain language, find it hard to make ends meet? If so, most probably it is your own fault; either you have been careless in the management of your affairs, or you have been living beyond your means. As a Christian now resolve to break loose from the habit which has hampered you. Christ said, "The truth shall make you fiec." This is a grand sentence reaching into the smallest actions of our lives as well as the greatest articles of our faith. Truth is "facts as they are." It is solemnly incumbent upon you, as a Christian, to know the true state of your affairs at all times, and the true relation between your expenditure and your income, however small either of them might seem to the public. Without truth in your dealings, and truth in the position you assume in your own society, it is vain to talk of faith in Christ, and difficult indeed to celebrate his birth, for you will be haunted by a consciousness that your creed is barren, your hospitality dishonest, and your mirth hollow.

But about these same Christmas debts. We cannot measure them merely by the bill and the account book. We are told, "Owe no man anything but to love one another." If ever this command has special and peculiar force it is at Christmastide.

Of course, we all do something at the mid-winter holy-tide to help those who are poorer than ourselves. There are many who struggle hard to keep body and soul together, and have but few, very few, gleams of sunshine on their path. Those whose homes are bright are glad to cheer some sad hearth by their aid. Their own festivities are sweeter when they have helped even one family circle to gather together without want for a guest.

But we must not let the spirit of charity evaporate in a Christmas present. We must look steadily at

the causes which make such contrasts between poverty and plenty as we see in this Christian land.

Let us ask ourselves what we are doing to heal the social sores of England; whether in our own circle we are usually considerate, not merely indulgent, once and away; whether we ever take advantage of another man's helplessness or ignorance; whether we love mercy and do justly. These are questions about Christmas debts which we ought to put to ourselves, and to answer honestly.

But the contrast between bodily comfort and misery is not the only one which strikes us as we reflect upon the right celebration of His birth who came to reveal the love of God and warm our hearts with love towards one another. When we think of the bitterness of party feeling, the miserable squabbles about the very gospel of God among those who own the name of Christian, the struggles between professors of the same religion, let us do what we can to calm this din and strife; let us determine to see the best side of our neighbour's character, not the worst; let us not cry shame over the fallen, but try to help him or her out of the snare; let us think we support our creed not by condemning unbelievers, but by exhibiting the power of faith; let us reply to the sneers of the sceptic not by mere flashy theological wit, but by the holiness and humanity of our own lives. This is part of our Christmas debt. Christianity suffers more from the inconsistency of its professors than the attacks of its enemies. It only flourishes so far as we realise and act upon the

message with which its Divine Founder was announced to the world, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men.'

UNPUBLISHED LETTER OF ARCH-
BISHOP LEIGHTON.

AMONG the treasures of the late Sir William Tite, none was more proudly owned or exhibited than a pretty long letter of "good" Archbishop Leighton; and than whom, saving George Herbert, no one has been so taken into the heart of Christian

Englishmen and the English-speaking race. It
happens that by rare good chance the present writer
was authorised to take, and now possesses, a true and
faithful copy of this letter; which, it may be men-
tioned, fetched £57 10s. at the recent sale of the
Tite MSS.
Letters of any kind from Leighton are of
uttermost rarity,-in this agreeing with Herbert's, of
which no public or private collection seems to hold
so much as one (excepting, of course, the Public
Orator's book at Cambridge, and one to Bishop
Andrewes among the Sloane MSS.) Superlatively
rare is one of the present length, and especially
bearing in it so many of the characteristics of its
sweet and holy, yet timid and over-shrinking writer.
For Orwell's is a true portraiture:

"A frail, slight form-no temple he,
Grand, for abode of Deity;
Rather a bush, inflamed with grace,
And trembling in a desert place,
And unconsumed with fire,
Though burning high and higher.

A frail, slight form, and pale with care,
And paler from the raven hair
That folded from a forehead free,
Godlike of breadth and majesty-

A brow of thought supreme
And mystic, glorious dream.

And over all that noble face
Lay somewhat of soft pensiveness,
In a fine golden haze of thought,
That seemed to waver light, and float
This way and that way still,

With no firm bent of will."

Even strong men, however, have shown lifeweariness and irresolution and longing to be removed from the "strife of evil tongues.' It was the slayer of Goliath, and the wrestler with many a deep problem of providence and destiny, who cried or sobbed out: "Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness." Dove-wings, not eagle-wings! Fine modesty; but a mere passing sinking of heart. I say this that I may indicate that Leighton's love of retirement and his anguish amid the clamours of a dissonant age may not be made the all-in-all of him. He was weak thereand who of us has not the heel of Achilles?-yet had he real if undemonstrative potentialities that would have strung him to act and dare death for principle and his dear Lord. I say it, too, in that this letter reads like a page of unconscious autobiography, so crystal clear is it in its innocent revelations. For my part, I must confess that I should gladly have found

this letter addressed to any other than Lauderdale, for whom the scorpion lash of Andrew Marvell, rather than all this homage of a saint, was the most fitting. Altogether, I conceive that it is no ordinary privilege to be able to present for the first time so noticeable an addition to the scanty correspondence, and the equally scanty facts, of so venerable a Worthy as Archbishop Leighton. It need only be added that I reproduce the letter in literal integrity of wording throughout, even to the erased words-marking an interlineation by printing it above the line.

LETTER OF ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON TO THE DUKE OF LAUDERDALE.

May it please y' Grace

I am over-satisfied & singularly obliged by your Grace's answer to my last as to the end for which I took the boldness to intreat it, and the reason why I did so was purely the high value I have of your Grace's continuing kindness and favourable opinion, the assurance whereof I would earnestly have desired to carry along with mee, if I were presently to bury myself alive in one of the solitariest hermitages in the world. Of the business of my vntie [= University] I will say no more at present and as little as possibly I can in any time hereafter, being exceedingly sorry and ashamed that I should have already bin so troublesome both to his Matie and y Grace about a thing yt indeed does importantly concern my self, but I must still crave pardon to think it of little or no concernment to the world; but if the saying even of that bee any way vnpleasing I shall henceforward forbear it and onely wish that for the remainder of my time in that station I may really find both the opportunity and ability to doe some [very-erased] more vsefull and successfull service in it than hitherto I have done or could doe, and in that case I could possibly cure my propension to retirement or suspend it for a longer time though 'twere much more impetuous in me then it is; but to say it in a word there is nothing in our business so intolerable to me as our doing nothing, nor would any fatigue or [any-erased] difficulties in it have degusted me so much as our ten years fai(n)tneantise has done: but this empty regrett is to no purpose. If there be yet any hopes of doing any thing, I believe your Grace will chuse the fittest time and means to give motion & vigour to my endeavours yt are likely to promote the good of that disorder'd and distemper'd Church. My lord Kincardin did me the favour to bring mee this mornwch I desir'd

ing to y king and shew'd him the paper, or some thing like it to bee sign'd & his Mate seemed not averse from it but the convenient wording of it & presenting is to be differr'd till your Grace's return wch is hoped will be shortly and that it may bee very happy is the affictionate wish of

Addressed

May it please y' Grace y' Grace's most humble servant

For his Grace
My lord Duke of
Lauderdale

at Bath

R. LEIGHTON.

Endorsed

Bp Layton's letter to D. Laud.

Another letter-which is also hitherto unprintedof a kindred spirit though a wider and more philo

sophical intellect, viz., of the Honourable Robert Boyle, will form a fitting pendent to Leighton's. It supplies a line or two for the history of the great story of the Bible. The original is one of the gems of the Mss. of the Royal Irish Academy, Dublin:Stanton Jan. 20th

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St Having newly receiv'd frō an Ingenious Person at London a Letter of y cheife part whereof ye Inclosed Paper is a Transcript, my absence fro Oxford hindering mee from waiting on you and Mr. Seaman about it, I am obleigd to take this way of communicating it to you, desiring yt when you have shewd ye paper to Mr. Seaman you will enable mee to give y Ingenious Writer of ye Letter as clear & full an Answer to ye particulars as you think you may safely doe. Seignior Warnero (?) being dead, there seemes noe danger to o' intended workes, especially since it appears not yt he had soe much as begun the Version of ye New Testament, & for ye Translation of ye old: as these Freinds of his at Amsterdam, (who are both of them men of note & Work) seeme to desire, an informacon about y Inclosd Particulars, but yt they may the better conforme their Edition to Mr. Seaman's; soe yty promoting of soe good a worke whereby ye whole Bible will be extant in ye Turkish Tongue, may receive from your Informacons ye furtherance yt is wishd for in Holland, is both ye hope & ye desire of S' yo' Affect. Freind

& humble Servant

Ro. BOYLE.

Pray present my humble service to Mr. Seaman. These

AT

To my highly Esteemd
Freind Mr. Samuel Clark.
Present

At his hous in Holywell

In Oxford.

ALEXANDER B. GROSART.

THE LAND OF THE GIANT CITIES.
BY THE REV. W. WRIGHT, B.A., DAMASCUS.
NO. IX.

T Rimet el Lohf we find the Druzes as usual in conclave in their dark assembly-room. Sheikh Akhzin accompanies us round the town, and points out to us all the antiquities of the place. These comprise a Christian church in ruins, a square mortuary tower about twenty feet high, and a number of inscriptions in Greek, Latin, and Nabathaan. The sheikh, having shown us all he has to show, returns to his assembled brethren, and I start for a more thorough exploration of the village alone. As I pass the two reservoirs of the village I ask a drink from some Druze women who are filling their jars, and they immediately become very talkative, and ask questions faster than I can answer them. The first question generally asked by the women is, "Have you entered the world?" which means, "Are you married? "then they run me through my catechism about the colour of my wife's skin, whether or not she wears rings in her nose, and if she has any boys, the question nearest the earts of these Spartan mothers. When they ask if it is true that with us the women rule the men, I give an evasive answer and pass on from my horned catechisers.

The wailers at the funeral of an unmarried man make this their bitterest plaint, Ma dukhaled-dunya" ("He had never entered the world").

While exploring an extensive private ruin, I drop down through a break in the stone roof, and find to my astonishment that I have frightened a family from their supper. Fancy a man dropping through your ceiling when you are all eagerly at supper, and you will not be surprised to hear that I am received with a stony stare. I say all the apologies that I am acquainted with in Arabic suitable to the circumstances, and immediately they are all delighted to see me, and no excuse will save me from partaking of their food. At last I consent, on condition of every one returning to the place he occupied previous to my unceremonious descent. I had seen the patriarchal and lordly feast given by the sheikh again and again, always with the same dignified courtesy on the part of the host, and I was glad of an opportunity of joining with a poor family at their ordinary evening meal. The family consisted of the father and mother, three plain girls, and a spoiled boy. They all squatted on a hair cloth round a little straw tray, on which was spread some barley bread, and in the centre of the bread stood a large earthenware bowl filled with kishk. The kishk has a smell like sour krout; it is made of laban (sour milk) and burgal (crushed wheat), which are mixed together and left standing until the whole mass is rotten. Then it is dried in the sun and served up in many ways. Our feast consists of kishk, with a little greasy water poured over it, and well stirred up with a wooden spoon. The women withdraw their veils, exposing mouths and chins horribly tattooed. The father of the family leans forward, and with a "Bismilla" (in the name of God) takes a handful of the kishk, rolls it up in a ball, and throws it into his mouth. The others do accordingly; I confine myself exclusively to the black bread and brass bowl of water which is handed round. The smell of the kishk is sickening, and the bread, which was baked with cows' dung, has too much of the flavour of the fuel. The boy bullies his sisters and mother, patronises me, and contradicts his father on grave points of history, archæology, and domestic economy. The father seems to enjoy his son's triumphs over himself. One of the reasons why this boy assumes such airs with his father is that he is one of the ukkal,* or initiated in the higher mysteries of the Druze religion, a rank to which his father could not attain, as he could not abstain from swearing and smoking, and so he remains among the juhhál, or ignorant, while his precocious boy of twelve is received into the highest rank. When the maidens have each disposed of four or five balls apiece of kishk about the size of pigeons' eggs, they start up and fall back one by one. This is the rule throughout Syria; no one waits for another at table. They feed rapidly and silently, and each one withdraws when he has done.

Leaving my hospitable entertainers, I proceed to the square tower at the west of the village. It is a great tomb built in imitation of the Palmyrene towers, with loculi round the walls for the reception of bodies. It has a fine Greek inscription over the entrance.

While copying an inscription in a garden wall close by the tower, a tall venerable Druze issues from a hole in a ruin, which appears to be only an irregular heap of stones, and approaching takes up a position beside me. He tells me many wonderful

Burckhardt says, "I observed Akoul boys of eight or ten years of age."-Travels in Syria, etc.," page 304.

stories, for these people have an amazing faculty for | believing the incredible.

The sheikh has taken a fancy to me, I am so good a listener, and invites me to his den. I refuse to accompany him, urging the lateness of the hour, but being actually afraid of this strange old man, whom a moment ago I saw heaving with inspiration in the glow of the setting sun. When I rise to depart he seizes my arm with a force that I did not think was in him, and begins to drag me towards the ruin which he calls his house. I go quietly along with him, till just at the door, feeling his grasp relax, I pluck my arm out of his hand, and jumping over a low wall, turn at a distance of ten or twelve yards to apologise.

As I hurry back to the tent I meet the whole Druze population, who have been to our camp to see my wonderful gun, which my muleteers have informed them "has only to be wound up and it will blaze away as long as you like without missing." April the 15th. We are early working our way over the execrable path between Lohf and 'Ahiry. The grim appearance of the basalt is here relieved by the glancing green of the Butm trees that grow among the stones. In about an hour we approach two beautiful tells, or conical hills, with fields of wavy wheat sweeping round their bases and surging up their sides, but not reaching to the top. 'Ahiry is at the base of the second tell, which is named Tell 'Ammar. This town is distinguished from all the towns of the Lejah in having a perennial supply of water. Among the numerous inscriptions that abound here, we find the names of Aumos and Agenes,* ancient deities of the Hauran. On every side we see Roman remains and Greek inscriptions, and from the tell we see the abiding traces of the Roman dominion in the road, stretching away in straight lines through the stony wilderness.

Sheikh Hussein presses us much to stay for breakfast, but time presses us still more to move, as we wish to cut right through the Lejah and far out into the plain at the other side during the day. The crowd that gathers round us here is of the usual character. The Druzes in person and dress differ from the Moslems and Christians, who are pretty much alike. The tub-like turbant of the Druzes gives them a top-heavy appearance; and, indeed, leaviness, I might say grossness, in limb and feature is their general characteristic. They are often very fair, have blue eyes, and are generally fat and ruddy. They are always well clothed, and are seldom met with barefooted. The Moslems and Christians who live among the Druzes are, as a rule, lean and lithe, have black hair, dark piercing eyes, and olive complexions. They wear a handkerchief over the head, fastened there with a hair rope, and hanging down over the shoulders. They wear also a kind of cotton gown, with a sack-like garment thrown over it, and they are constantly met barefooted. They are "the hewers of wood and drawers of water" to the Hauran Druzes.

We strike once more into the Lejah in the direction of Dama, without guide or guard, as usual, though everybody assures us that the Arabs are in our path. I have been over the road once before, and we are, in fact, becoming sceptical about the

The ancients identified Ogenes with Okeanus.

The Druze turban consists of a white felt cap, which is covered by the red fez, and this is swathed about with calico until it assumes the dimensions of a tub about eight inches deep and eighteen inches in diameter.

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ferocity of the Arabs. Besides, I have had previous lessons in the Hauran on the value of guides and guards. Once, when reconnoitring the country with a view to future operations, we became excited at Khubab in reading the description of the wondrous approach to Dama-"lofty impending cliffs," "deep gullies and ravines," a wild labyrinth that none but the Arabs can penetrate," are scenes rarely within one's reach, and too tempting to be passed without a visit. A spice of danger was added to the wondrous bill of fare, for if we showed paper and pencil, which we certainly would do, we would be taken for magicians, and set upon by lawless vagabonds with clubs and stones. We had hitherto found everything tamer than we had expected, and our faces were at once set to go to Dama. My companion had a magnificent rifle, which was safely packed up at the bottom of a box, and he carried a breechloading fowling-piece-so much improved that it could hardly be fired at all. Our Arab guide had a dabous (a pin), an oak stick with an enormous head filled with spikes, the most formidable arm in the country; but then we might calculate that our guide would be on the wrong side with this murderous weapon. Our guard, a Kurdish soldier, carried a little howitzer with a flint lock, but the arm had not been fired for a quarter of a century, nor was it ever loaded during our whole tour. My servant had also tied himself to a tremendous pistol, but he fired it for the first and last time as we were entering Damascus, and it burst in the most becoming manner, blowing the lock into the air, and injuring his hand.

Thus formidably equipped, and with a supply of sticking-plaster, we entered the Lejah on our perilous adventure. For the first hour we had to trace out our own way, as neither guide nor guard appeared, but at last they overtook us, and still urged us to go back. We had set our lives upon a cast, and we would stand the hazard of the die. At last we reached Dama, and just as we came up to the entrance of the town, three women rushed up out of a deep pit where they had been filling skins with water. They raised a wild scream, and notwithstanding I cried, "We are not enemies, oh sisters," the sisters rushed over the ruins like tigresses, screaming, and disappeared. They were tremendous women, Amazons of the Hauran, the only remains of the giants that I feel certain about having seen in the whole district. "Now we are in for it," we both uttered in the same instant, "for the women will bring the town upon us." My friend looked round to give a parting salute to the retreating guard, but he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, our whole party had discovered something extremely interesting in the rear, and did not join us for nearly an hour. After waiting, like Bob Acres, with our valour oozing out at our fingers' ends, and no infuriated mob coming to attack us, we picked up courage, and entered the town vi et armis. The women had evidently hid among the ruins, for the only human beings we saw in the place were three most savagelooking men armed with dabouses. These men kept from us a distance of about four hundred yards, and we could not induce them to approach us, or to wait till we would approach them. We wandered at will through the ruins, descended into vaults and ascended into dormitories, and rambled over suites of apartments, and copied inscriptions, and shot partridges, and neither gave nor received injury. Neither did we see "the impending cliffs" nor "deep ravines."

sional interruptions up to the rugged margin of the Lejah. Burckhardt, when writing of this part of the country, speaks of "the number of small patches of meadow, which afford excellent pasture for the cattle of the Arabs," but we are utterly taken by surprise to find such an amount of arable land, cultivated and non-cultivated, as exists in these parts. The land is also of a very good quality, and easily worked, like all soil in basaltic regions. I believe I could choose an estate of a thousand acres in the heart of the Lejah, which in Ulster would sell for forty or fifty pounds per acre, and would let at thirty shillings per acre annually for cropping.

The inscriptions proved to be of little value, and | Again from Jêdâl the cultivation extends with occaDama did not seem to have ever been of any great importance. It contains the ruins of one large building, the gate of which is adorned with vines and grapes, similar to what we saw at Kanawât. The houses were good solid structures, à la Hauran, but they are all in a ruinous state. The town, which stood in one of the most dismal spots of the great lava bed, had neither spring nor fountain, but the rocks beyond the walls are full of excavated cisterns, the sides of which were plastered with cement, and in most of the houses one sees "broken cisterns," half-filled with the stone roofs which have fallen in. In these subterranean chambers the winter rains were preserved for summer use. In this dreary and West of Jêdâl we meet several flocks of goats, and deserted region we came upon patches of the most as our servants have been looking out for water all wonderful colouring. Wherever the soil remained day, we call a halt in order that we may get some among the rocks "we scarce could see the ground milk. The first goatherd we meet is a little boy for flowers." Crimson poppies, and white daisies, whose only garment is a single piece of white calico, and yellow rape, and green grass, made a strikingly which is hung round his neck like a scarf, and falls lovely picture, set in a rigid frame of black basalt. down on each side, partially covering him. It is Should any one accuse us of foolhardiness for with great difficulty that we can get him to undergoing through the Hauran without a guard, the stand what we want. Soon a second boy, dressed foregoing experiences are our justification for dis- like the former, but a little older, comes forth like a pensing with such impedimenta, especially as one's fairy from among the rocks. He is very zealous to guards always bully the weak, cringe to the strong, strike a bargain with us. We promise him a piaster and abuse the hospitality of one's hosts generally. for the full of a copper basin which he carries with him, The one great use of guards-to bear home the news but he insists on having his money in advance. We in case you should be killed-we did not take deeply produce a silver piece which is one-eighth more than into consideration, and so, guardless and alone, we a piaster, but he firmly declares that he must have a strike across the Lejah at 'Ahiry, and make straight piaster, and that he will take neither more nor less. for Dama. At first we find the country rough, but While we are lying in the grass drinking the milk generally cut up into fields, many of which are culti- two great tall Arabs issue from the rocks and eye us vated. The stones are gathered into heaps, and from a distance. They then approach one of the built up in fences, as is done in the mountainous muleteers, who is feeding his mule on the wheat at a parts of Ireland and Scotland. As we penetrate distance from us, and ask him if we will surrender. farther the cultivation increases, and extends up to He replies, "Not if there were two thousand of you nearly Dama. As we pass Deir Dama on our right, instead of two, for the Khawajat have guns that fire two tall Arabs come in sight on our path before us, thirty shots a minute, and five thousand an hour." and just as they see us one of them deliberately The logic is conclusive, for the Arabs say W'ulla," stoops for a stone, which he holds in his hand under and come up to us at once. One of them is over six his garments. They are thoroughly armed, and feet two inches high, but looks much taller. His they come up to us in a very defiant manner, and the dress consists of a single coarse calico shirt and a one who picked up the stone-a tall, desperate-look-leathern girdle round his waist, from which a dagger ing character-comes up in front of my companion's horse and stops it. I keep at a respectful distance to one side, and ready for any emergency, and the Arabs, after measuring our strength, and concluding that the balance of chances is against them, stand sullenly and let us pass. Our servants, however, urge us to never let the Arabs come so close to us. They point out that they were armed with swords and clubs, and as one of them had a large stone in his hand, the battle would have been over before we could have had time to begin. It seems we must challenge at a distance all Arabs we meet in the future.

We are greatly surprised by the amount of arable land which we find in the heart of the Lejah. We turn off the ordinary track at Dama to go to Harran, and wander for a long time out of the beaten path, and I think we have come fully to comprehend the secret of the numerous towns and cities contained in Argob. Almost the whole country had once been under cultivation, and the little fields when not now under cultivation are green with soft rich grass. South-west of Dama also, about one-third of the fields contain wheat and barley. As we approach Jêdal the cultivated ground becomes more rare, but everywhere we see traces of former cultivation. |

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is suspended. He has nothing on his enormous black head, and his buttered and plaited locks hang down his shoulders. He is barefooted, and his right arm, which is tattooed with figures of camels in the most archaic style, is bare to the shoulder, exhibiting muscular development in the highest perfection. This, and the Arab who crossed our path in the morning, are the finest specimens of their race, physically, I have yet met, and I doubt if I have ever seen a man so powerfully built as the almost naked savage now before us.

On coming up he assures us, in a somewhat grand manner, that he is a Selût Arab, but seeing that we are not mightily impressed with the information, he overwhelms us with the additional fact that Abu Sulyman, whom all dread, is his sheikh. We assure him that we never denied that he was a Selût Arab, or that his sheikh was Abu Sulyman, but that we want another piaster's worth of milk; whereupon his highness stoops down, catches a little goat, and pro- . vides us with what we want, taking care, however, to get paid in full and a little more. By-and-by another little Arab, in the same undress as the former, issues from among the rocks, and the three stand timorously watching all our movements. The tall Arabs are very greedy, and ask us for everything

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