falling down dead in attempting to fly over it are entirely
fabulous. The water is exceedingly nauseous, and the effluvia
arising from it unwholesome, but so buoyant, that gentlemen, who
have made the attempt from curiosity, have found it impossible to
sink. An Irishman, named Cortigan, some fifteen years ago, conveyed
a boat to the waters of the Dead Sea, and, aided by an old Maltese
sailor, rowed nearly all round. He was a week exploring, and
imagined he had made great discoveries; but no one knew what they
were, for on the eighth day he became seriously ill. He was carried
to the shore by his companion, and expired soon after in the hut of
a Bedouin Arab. We are led to believe that in this place stood the
famous cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, destroyed by the wrath of God,
and utterly buried beneath this bituminous lake."

GRANDY. "We have gone through our toils this evening with no
personal inconvenience; but that is owing to our travels being of
the mind instead of the body: for what man journeying through Arabia
but has felt the annoyances of heat, the pangs of thirst and
unutterable anguish from the horrors of a lingering death? That we
stay-at-home travellers may justly appreciate the blessings of home,
I will give you an instance of the sufferings of those who are
compelled to wander.

#The Slave Merchant.#

"The caravans which carry goods from Bagdat to Aleppo usually pass
by Anah. They pay tribute to the Arabs, who reckon themselves Lords
of the Desert, even to the east of Euphrates. They have to encounter
the dangers of the suffocating winds, the swarms of locusts, and the
failure of water, as soon as they depart from the line of the river.
A French traveller[9] tells us he witnessed one of the most
appalling scenes of this kind between Anah and Taibu. The locusts,
having devoured everything, perished in countless heaps, poisoning
with their dead bodies the ponds which usually afforded water when
no springs were near.

[Footnote 9: Maltebrun.]

"This traveller saw a Turk running down from a hillock, with despair
in his looks. 'I am,' cried he, 'the most ill-fated man in the
world. I have purchased, at an enormous rate, 200 young women, the
finest of Greece and Georgia. I brought them up with great care, and
now, when arrived at the age of marriage, I have come with them on
my way to Bagdat, thinking to dispose of them to advantage. Alas!
they are all now dying of thirst in this desert.' The traveller