a broad-brimmed hat covered with white calico, and with white muslin wound round it and hanging down behind like a vail. He carried a brace of pistols, and to his care I was especially committed, though Mohammed, the groom, seemed to think that he was my more natural guardian, and he kept as near to me as his laden donkey and the uneven roads would let him. Sometimes he was almost wedged in between me and a projecting rock, or he came suddenly forward just under my horse's feet, or would follow me so closely that he was in danger of a kick. He was very good and attentive, and if he saw me look at a flower he would immediately jump down to gather it, though I never could teach him to bring me a stalk more than an inch long, and he rarely brought me the right flower.
I looked back now and then to see the last of my brother and his little party, as they rode toward the green valley of Nablûs. Simeon, who was by my side, said, "I pray you, Miss Rogers, do not look back any more. When you look back so, as if you had no heart to go on, it makes me think that you have no trust in me. I pray you look forward only." To reassure him, I cast no more longing looks behind, and, though I felt rather sad, I would not let it be perceived.
For about two hours we passed through a highly-cultivated district of hills and plains, dotted with villages, olive groves, and orchards, and green fields where laborers were busy. Women, with their heads covered and their faces almost concealed with white linen or cotton vails, were gathering tares, bright wild flowers, and weeds among the corn. Some of them had infants slung on their shoulders, and in unsown tracts of land, girls were toiling at picking out the stones. Men were sitting in groups smoking and gossiping, while others were digging up the ground in gardens and orchards, and placing large stones round the trunks of old olive-trees. They looked up from their work to gaze at us with curiosity. Simeon overheard the crit-
