have cost to cleanse the streets was sufficient to blind the eyes of porte, the rest was put in the pasha's purse, and the streets remained as dirty as before.

Abder-rahman, a late mutselim of Hebron, who had agreed to pay the pasha, for a piece of service which ought either to have been rendered unbought, or not at all; and who, with not more principle, affected more sense of decency than the pasha, enquired of him, how he wished the backsheish to be brought to him. "Oh," said the pasha, "send it me on a tray. I am not ashamed, if you are."

While I was at Jerusalem, the pasha died in the actual possession of his great wealth, a proof that here at least the age of miracles is not passed. His interment, as usual, took place the next day, when the fellahs, instead of regretting, rejoiced over the event, and uttered many a wish that the effendis, the ministers of his oppression, might shortly follow him.

Our long bargain for horses, concluded yesterday with so much difficulty, and loss of time, fell to pieces again this morning, for the horses, when they appeared, had not the promised European saddles, and the two friends who were to accompany me, after wasting several hours in the vain attempt to bring the owner of the horses to reason, were at length fairly tired out and gave up the intended journey in

despair. But Mr. Hunt was already expecting us in the tent at Hebron, I and my son, therefore, who, under the circumstances, obtained a release from his former engagement, procured such horses as we could and set out to join him. So much time had been wasted that it was evening before we set out, but we rode, with a short interval, nearly the whole night, and early in the morning we found Mr. Hunt under Abraham's oak, very glad to see us, and not unnaturally wondering why we had not arrived before.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22.

THIS morning we made our tent a tabernacle, and had prayers read in it to our congregation of three. On this site, venerable as the former abode of Abraham, within walls of canvas such as he dwelt in when a sojourner in Mamre, with a fruitful soil before us and around us, and amid the natural beauties, and still more wonderful associations of the country, it was impossible that the service should be otherwise than impressive. Our tent, which is circular, and four yards in diameter, rises to a point in the centre, from whence radiate the twenty-two

stripes of canvas, alternately blue and white, which compose its roof and walls. In the afternoon we strolled through the vineyards into ancient Hebron. There are no Christians in the city, and as the day was no sabbath here, either to Jew or Moslem, its dark bazaars were all open, and its merchants in their stalls. In a cemetery which we passed, a number of natives were seated round a grave as if to bewail, or to pay respect to the dead.

In the course of our walk we encountered the sheikdervish, a native who lives in Hebron, whom my son knew, and at whose house he had once been a guest. The sheik, who recognized him before they actually met, greeted him with great cordiality and kindness. After we had been introduced, the sheik begged us call and visit him at his house. He is a tall, handsome Arab of about fifty, in a turban and Turkish robes, and with the air and manners of an English gentleman, one of nature's nobility. Availing ourselves of the invitation in our way home, we found our way up a steep hill, and over the heaps of dirt which everywhere encumber these towns, to the lofty house where the sheik lives with his brother and nephews, and a numerous household. The humble entrance led first to a dark stone stairway, up which we ascended to the uppermost room, passing on the way the apartments of the women, who,

with the natural curiosity of their sex, I saw peep at us through a half-open doorway. The sheik had not yet returned from the bazaar, but his brother, who also knew my son, was at home, and received us with great cordiality. Coffee and chibouques were ordered, and we discussed both on a divan, whence we had the whole of the ancient city spread before us like a map. At first the conversation turned on the all engrossing subject of the war on which he was anxious for the latest news, and from the war we got to the provision for the poor in England, of which he appeared to have no idea; but when he heard that, despite such provision, people sometimes died there of hunger, the thought seemed to horrify him, and lifting up his hands with a saddened look, he exclaimed, "Mashallah, oh, never sure, God forbid!" and, no doubt, inwardly congratulated himself that he did not live in England, but in Hebron. sitting some time with him, we rose to take leave, when his nephew, a fine young man of sixteen, volunteered to accompany us back to our tent. After keeping us waiting a short time, he made his appearance with two friends, each, like himself, carrying a gun upon his shoulder. Under this formidable convoy, at which I felt some surprise, we set out as the sun was sinking, to walk back from Hebron to Baluta, which we reached in safety a little after

After

dark, when our escort prepared to return home. My son gave our young friend and his two attendants a pocketknife as a memorial of our pleasant acquaintance, and then, with mutual expressions of good-will, they took their leave and we parted. As soon as they had turned their backs to go home, I heard them discharge their fire-arms, and I at once saw that his fear of the efreets at night was the reason why he had detained us, and why he would not come alone. But now the explosion had cleared the air, and effectually scared the efreets.

We found our tent lighted up with a fanouse, a sort of shaded lamp suspended from the pole in the centre, whence it threw a sombre light upon the inmates as they sat on the ground, with their arms, and baggage, and camp furniture disposed about them in order, and gave a picturesque air to our new and singular home.

This evening and all night, the wind sighed mournfully through the branches of the giant tree above us, a large screech-owl, which had her abode in it, hooted and whooped in concert with the wind, and complained to the moon that we disturbed her solitude, and the lightning which was abroad, played in flashes, without thunder, incessantly about our tent. Were not these circumstances a fitting prelude to our entrance to-morrow, on the journey towards that strange mysterious sea which was its object?