walking in the midst of a water-course, with the shallow but increasing stream rushing round our feet. We paused for a minute or two in a narrow valley, and stood in the shelter of a low, deserted hut, made of tree-branches and stones. Then, with difficulty, we mounted the hill, and reached Senûr. The inhabitants will not willingly make the approach to their town more easy while the country is subject to civil war.
We found the gates of the town closed; but, after a parley with the sentinels, we were admitted. It was just midday. I was tired, giddy, and wet. We were led into a large, vaulted, smoke-blackened hall, on the ground-floor of the castle. About fifty men rose, wrapped their heavy cloaks around them, and left the place as we entered. A carpet was spread for us in a deep, wide window-seat. I poured the water from the brim of my hat, and gladly threw off my cloak, and took a cup of hot coffee. In the mean time, another resting-place was made ready for us. Ibrahîm Jerrar and his brother, the chiefs of the town, conducted us across the castle-yard, up a steep, uncovered stone stairway, into an open court. As we crossed the threshold of a vaulted chamber, in the highest part of the castle, they said, "Be welcome, and take your rest." Mats, and carpets, and cushions had been newly spread on the ground. The window of this room commanded a view of a small fertile plain, almost inclosed by hills, but which could be easily approached from the south-west by a narrow valley or pass. In time of war its dark vista is always carefully watched by the people of Senûr.
A lunch of bread, fried eggs, goat's-milk cheese, and olives was brought in, and placed on a round wooden tray raised a few inches from the ground. Serving men poured water over our hands. When lunch was cleared away, and coffee and pipes went round, an earnest conversation commenced between the Jerrars and my brother, while three or four men sat by, silently smoking and listening. I rested apart from them on a cushioned carpet, watching the
