lanterns in the rooms all round it, the doors of which were open, for their inmates, our neighbors, were watching and waiting to see and welcome us.
I mounted a steep, uncovered, stone stairway to a broad landing, dignified by the name of terrace, leading to two square, lofty, airy rooms, with whitewashed walls and stone floors, where my brother had formerly lived for a year or more; this was to be our temporary home, and Katrîne, with the help of an upholsterer—an Arab Jew—had been very busy making it ready for us.
At the end of the terrace was a little room, in which were all the requisites for preparing pipes, coffee, and sherbets. Narghilés, chibouques, tobacco-bags, coffee-cups, and glasses garnished its walls—and Yûsef, our little coffee boy, pipe-bearer, and page, who, to his infinite satisfaction, presided over it, came out, arrayed in all his best, to kiss my hands, and evidently did his utmost to make a favorable impression on his new mistress. He had on clean, loose, white cotton drawers, a scarlet cloth jacket, a shawl girdle, and a white, quilted cotton skull-cap. Katrîne was quite content with her new quarters below, and she told me that she had unexpectedly found some cousins in Hâifa. I congratulated her, guessing, however, that this was only one of her curious delusions.
My brother's dragoman and secretary, Mohammed, his Egyptian groom, and several candidates for service at the Vice-Consulate, crowded round to welcome me, and solicit my favor and protection, in words which were exactly like quotations from the Old Testament.
An elderly Moslem woman, with an anxious, time-worn face, came, and after saluting me, said, "If now I have found grace in your sight, speak for me to my lord, your brother, that he may take my son into his service; speak now, I pray you, a word for my son, for he is my only son, and I am a widow."
Mattresses, cushions, and pillows, newly covered with chintz, placed nearly all round the rooms on planks, sup-
