mulberry-trees throw a thick and welcome shade round it. The station was unusually full, owing to the outbreak of cholera in Egypt.
Our fellow travelers, the Franciscans, were quartered on some ecclesiastical pilgrims, and lodged eight in one room.
The only chamber which was unoccupied opened into a little court-yard in the left-hand corner of the square, and that was allotted to us. It was by no means a pleasant lodging, but we determined to make the best of it. It was about twelve feet square. The floor was of stone. The walls were whitewashed; and the door, which was formed of rough planks, had no fastening inside. A casemented window, with half the glass out, looked toward the north, and showed us the blue sea, the rocky shore, and the southern wall of Yâfa with its curious profile of flat-roofed houses, rising step by step one above the other, with here and there a minaret or a palm-tree. Groups of children were playing under the trees near to us. The prospect with out somewhat compensated for the desolate picture within.
There was nothing in the room but our luggage, our garde de santé, with his long stick, thousands of flies, an ant's nest, and ourselves.
I sat in the narrow window-seat, while my brother threw himself on the portmanteaus and boxes. For some minutes we could only laugh at each other, and at the ridiculous position in which we were placed. However, if we had not been in excellent health and good spirits, it would have been a serious matter.
Fortunately my brother was no stranger there, so help was at hand. Mr. Kayat, the English Consul—a native of Syria—sent his dragoman, who soon provided us with matting, mattresses, and wadded quilts, of which we made a sort of impromptu divan.
Soon afterward our kind friend, Mr. Graham, of Jerusalem, came to see us. He stood outside the window in the presence of the garde, who watched us continually. If our visitor had touched our hands, he would have been
