and spices. The Pasha had ordered it to be brought to me. A number of people whose curiosity had been excited came to see the issue, and to partake of their favorite dish.
The Effendi graciously placed the dish before me, and, after a general washing of hands, all present partook of it. I was asked if I would inform them where the head was. I said, "It is in my portmanteau in the opposite room." Then the Effendi said, "Will you show it to us, O gracious lady?" A glance from my brother induced me to comply, so I fetched the drawing, and the men, on seeing it, cried out immediately, "Ibrahîm!" "It is Ibrahîm Jerrar!" "It is Ibrahîm of Senûr!" "O work of God!" The gravest and most stately-looking of our guests seemed thoroughly to enjoy the joke. They went away to explain the mystery to Kamîl Pasha, who afterward called to see me and the portrait, which he asked me to allow him to keep. I said, "With pleasure, your excellency, if you will consent to regard it as the real head and the only head of Ibrahîm Jerrar, and act accordingly." His excellency laughingly declined to do this, so I have kept my sketch, which he, however, seemed rather unwilling to part with. He examined it carefully, and held it in his hand for a long time, but I would not alter my conditions. However, another drawing which he selected from my folio, I gave to him. He and his suite went away apparently very much amused.
We found Nablûs and its neighborhood in a very unsettled state. It was exceedingly difficult to convey letters from this district. Postmen were constantly waylaid and robbed. My brother, who was directed to write every second day to Her Britannic Majesty's Consul at Jerusalem, employed special messengers. They were several times attacked, and were severely beaten when they attempted to preserve the dispatches and letters intrusted to their care.
This is always the case in Syria during civil war. Intriguing officers, and the leaders of contending factions, do not like their proceedings to be reported to head-quarters,
