s, and over the swarthy
face, reposing among the black, glossy curls of a well-poised head, the
red Turkish fez; or, if Ali has an ambition to be thought possessed of
much piety of the orthodox Islamic type, the fez gives way to a turban,
white, or green if he be a pilgrim from Mecca. Behind this important
personage, as much a feature of the East as the Sphinx or the Pyramids,
stand at a respectful distance, making profound salutations, a
cook,--probably a Greek or Italian,--three muleteers, and a donkey-boy.
Behind them still are two horses,--alas! not blooded Arabs madly
champing their bits,--one for yourself and the other for Ali. Three
mules bear patiently on their backs, always more or less raw, the canvas
and poles of the two tents. In the rear is a small donkey, covered all
over with culinary utensils, nibbling fat cactus-leaves with undisguised
satisfaction. For a daily expenditure scarcely greater than is necessary
to keep soul and body together at a fashionable New York hotel on the
American plan, you become the commander of this company, within certain
limits around which there are lines as definite and as impassable as if
drawn by an Irish servant of some years' experience in the United
States. You must not travel more than thirty miles a day; you must not
change the route agreed upon, unless roads become impassable; and there
are other, minor regulations, to which you are expected to submit, and,
if you do, your progress through the land, if not triumphant, will be at
least comfortable. You will find every day at noon, spread under some
wide-armed tree, a cold lunch that even a somewhat difficult taste would
consider fairly appetizing; and at nightfall you dismount before the
door of your tent and sit down to a dinner of many courses, which to a
stomach jounced for ten hours over a saddle seems a very fair dinner
indeed. Your breakfast is what a Frenchman would call a _dejeuner a la
fourchette_; and as you put down your napkin, your tent is folded almost
as quickly and as silently, and you mount your horse, standing ready for
another thirty miles. Yet, if you have just come from Egypt and three
months on a dahabeah, you will not hesitate to call this luxurious mode
of passing from Dan to Beersheba "roughing it in Palestine."

But it was my good fortune, after journeying from Beirut to Jerusalem
with dragoman and muleteers and tents, like a prince, to go up through
the country like a private citizen. I fell i