th what my guide was pleased to tell of
it. He seemed to have gained his point, but he told me nothing except
to prepare for a hard trip, as a day's distance must be covered, if
possible, before nightfall. As we had already lost two days in
Damascus, I was not averse to trying something strenuous in order to
make up in part for that loss. I felt quite equal to the task, (though
it proved to be a severe ordeal,) when it was explained to me that it
would require a ride of more than forty miles to reach a safe
halting-place for the night. My guide had planned it; and I was
committed to the plan.

After a hurried lunch, eaten in the tent of an Arab, I prepare for,--I
know not what. I put on my leggings and head-gear. Then I give over my
luggage, which consists of a suit-case, hand-grip, umbrella, and
alpenstock, to Haleel. I keep my overcoat, not because the weather is
cold,--it is hot,--but because I think I may possibly need it as a kind
of cushion for my saddle before the day is over. The need was felt, and
SORELY felt quite early in the afternoon; but most of the time we rode
too rapidly for my overcoat to supply the need,--it just would not stay
where I had hoped it might serve me well. So it happened that I was
destined to experience on that ride such misery as I had scarcely
thought one could endure. But, I anticipate.

We are ready. I am anxious to be going. I am delighted when my horse, a
beauty, indeed, and of pure Arabian stock, is led up by two dusky sons
of the desert. Surely my long trip to Jerusalem will be one of pleasure
when I am mounted on such a steed! At half-past twelve o'clock we
mount, and, facing to the south, we set off at a brisk pace for Gerasa,
(known to the Arabs as Jerash,) where it has been planned that we shall
spend the night. Several of the natives accompany us a short distance
on foot, one running on either side of my horse and holding to the
bridle; but soon, with interesting and graceful salaams, they leave us
to pursue our hot and dusty way alone.

There are just three of us, and we proceed in the following order: my
dragoman, who is guide and interpreter, leads the way; I follow next
after him; bringing up the rear is our muleteer, who takes charge of
all luggage, cares for the horses, and especially for,--me. Why should
I not be happy? For the first time in my life I have two men engaged to
look after my wants. They did their duty well,--were almost painfully
attentive at times. B