classical garment might give them, they encased their legs in ill-fitting indigo trousers, with embroidery round the ankles. However, my host was evidently very proud of his ladies; for no sooner did he catch a glimpse of them peeping over the parapet of their apartments, or straining their heads out of the little windows, than he would shout vociferously to them to retreat, which they would do, again to reappear and continue their criticisms of the newly arrived stranger. Meanwhile the male relations of my camel-man had appeared, to join me in the feast which was being prepared,—men and youths and boys, nearly a score in all, who quite filled up the two rooms and passage of our apartments, while nearly every one brought his long straight pipe or his hubble-bubble, and there was a murmur and gurgling of water as we inhaled the cool smoke. Besides the guests who arrived to call we had other visitors, those tamest of wild beasts—the fleas. It is strange that while many an author has told of the friendly fellowship of the dog and the horse toward mankind, the intense love of companionship of the flea toward the human being has been neglected. There is no need to tame him artificially: the moment he is old enough to swallow food he becomes the friend of man—nay, more, he will never willingly part company with him, especially in Arabia. His only equal is the mosquito, and for affection he almost beats the flea. As I write these lines one has been settling on my hand, and on my refusing to notice him he called attention to his presence by a gentle nip—result, a large white lump; and when I tried playfully to catch him, he flew away: they always do. On my next day’s march depended the success of my journey. Once across the Turkish frontier, I felt that unless any unforeseen event occurred I should reach my goal. But I knew how strict the orders were to allow no stranger to enter Turkish Yemen, lest news of the rebellion, which had for some months been disturbing the country, should leak out. However, I felt that I was attacking the least probable frontier of the country, and one where they would scarcely be expecting a stranger to attempt to enter. A ride of only a few hours brought us the following day from Jelileh to the _jimerouk_ or custom-house of Kátaba, situated on the south side of the Wadi Esh-Shari, and about three miles distant from the town, which lies to the north, off the caravan-road. The ride was a short but a hot one, and except that all the plain was under plough, the country seemed dry and desolate. Away to the right could be seen the large village of Thoba, a collection of towers on a rocky hill, from which stand up prominently the white domes of a mosque and tomb, forming quite a landmark on a scene otherwise a monotone in yellow.