a little distance from the sea, which was quite concealed from us by a ridge of drifted sand-hills. We traversed a wild, undulating, sandy plain, uncultivated, uninhabited, treeless, unwatered, and quite unmarked by roads. There were patches of poa bulbosa, marram-grass, sea-holly, and thistles of many kinds, with pink, blue, and yellow blossoms. Our guide had to look very carefully about him so as to keep in the right direction, for there was no sign of a beaten track any where; but occasionally we were reminded that we were not the first travelers on that road, by the skeletons and bleached bones of camels and horses which we saw half-buried in the sand.
The sun, though not yet in sight, brightened all the Eastern sky, and showed the dark outlines of the distant hills. We watched for his coming. Presently half of the red globe appeared, and by degrees we saw the whole, just resting as it were upon the horizon. After a moment's pause he seemed to leap up into the sky. At the same instant, we with one accord pronounced the name of "Edwin Arnold," quoting his sweet song of the "Marriage of the Rhine and the Moselle," and we repeated the well-remembered words with new pleasure as we rode along. The sky was intensely blue, and the moon still shone high above us.
After sunrise, we met many droves of camels laden with melons. It was the time of the melon harvest. Every step we advanced, we found the land firmer and richer. The long fibrous roots of the marram-grass had bound the sands together, and made a bed for shrubs of many kinds, but all were thorny and prickly. A few evergreen oaks and thorny bushes enlivened the desert-like scene. We drew near to a narrow winding river. Its course was marked by tall, flowering reeds, which, in the distance, looked like miniature palm-trees, and it was bordered by thickets of oleanders, lupins, and St. John's-wort, all in full flower. We crossed this stream, which is called the "Nahr el Fulik," and noticed on our left hand extensive ruins of
