purity. The neighborhood is rich in vineyards and fig-gardens, and all "precious fruits brought forth by the sun." The people are much attached to their town, and are very proud of it. They seem to think there is no place in the world to equal it.
When I returned to the hotel I found a turbaned stranger waiting to see the Vice-Consul. He introduced himself to me as Sheikh Mûssa. He wore a loose olive-colored cloth robe, bordered with sable fur, and a purple and drab striped satin under-dress, and purple cloth pelisse. He said he had heard that I could make faces on paper, and that, if I liked, I might take his portrait, on the condition that I would tell the Consul at Jerusalem that he had not interfered in the late intrigues. I answered, "I should like to take your portrait; but how can I tell that which I do not know, and how can I know that you have taken no part in these troubles?" "Nevertheless," he replied, "take my portrait, and show it to the Consul, Mr. Finn, and I shall find favor with him." He sat for an hour, with his rosary and pipe in his hands, most patiently, and then went away.
Shortly afterward Mahmoud Bek Abdul Hady, the Governor, came in with my brother. The former, whom I had seen several times, asked me many questions about my visit to his relations at Arrabeh. I showed him the sketches I had made there. He invited me to go to his new house, saying that his wives had expressed a wish to see me; but he added, "If you take their portraits, you must promise not to show them to any one in this country. You may show them in England to your friends and to the Queen, but it would be a shame for me that men in this land should see the faces of my women." I gave my promise, and he said, "It is well; the English word is spoken. Come at sunset and you shall find welcome." He said, "Do you like Arrabeh or Senûr better?" I said, "I found greater pleasure at Arrabeh, and I hope very much to see again the friends who received me there so
