rose on to a range of hills, dark with evergreen oaks, and carpeted with wild flowers. We rode eastward, overlooking plains and valleys. The black man was still with us. I was informed that he was an inveterate opium-eater, and always slept in a standing or sitting posture, with his eyes wide open.
In half an hour, we came to a little, crowded, mud and stone village, at the edge of a wood. Here we dismissed our guide, for we could not depend upon him. He had enemies in the district, and traveled in fear. We alighted. A carpet was spread for us on a grassy and shady slope, just above a thrashing-floor, and there we took pipes and coffee with the sheikh. The elders and chief men of the village, in their great camel's-hair cloaks and white turbans, sat on the ground in a half circle opposite to us. They were fully armed. After the usual greetings and compliments, they eagerly asked for "khubber," that is, news, saying, "Whence do you come, O my lord, and what tidings do you bring?" They were all very active and energetic-looking, communicative, and inquiring. They differed in these respects from the Bedouins we had met in the Valley of Salt, and from the villagers of Kefr Kâra.
I asked my brother how this striking contrast could be accounted for. He said, "This valley is in a very lonely, unprotected, and fertile spot. It is on the confines of the Jebel Nablûs, a district which is very frequently disturbed, as at present, by civil war. The inhabitants are obliged to be constantly on the alert, and prepared for any emergency. This, perhaps, gives them that look of activity and intelligence which is common to all people who are habitually exposed to great dangers, and who energetically but cautiously prepare to meet them." An animated exchange of news took place. The young men and boys stood in little groups around, while the elders smoked and talked by turns.
Just beyond the village, there were some ragged black hair tents among the trees. They belonged to a party of
