I went out from Damascus, the far-off country. I marched through the lone valley, with the Beg alone. I lighted down at Jôf, at a new built dwelling. Dear are the souls it shelters. “Guests,” he said, “sit down.” “See, Abu Turki, see,” I called, “thy kinsmen.” “Bring first for these,” he cried, “a fatted lamb. “Welcome, O Beg, welcome O Lady Khatún, Welcome, O distant kinsman, to your home.” I asked him for his daughter. “Take her dowerless.” “Her dower be these, five thousand,” said the Beg. Lady, O daughter of the great the generous! Lady, O daughter of a princely line! O Lord, keep safe my brother and the Khatúm. Grant them to reach the dwellings of repose. Guide them through Persia and far Hind and lead them By all the seven seas in safety home. Let them once more behold their friends and London. Let them relate the things that they have done. CHAPTER XV. “Here lie I down, and measure out my grave, Farewell, kind master.”—SHAKESPEARE. Muttlak Ibn Arûk and the Ketherin—Their horses—We are adopted by the tribe—The Haj again—Ambar sends round the hat—A forced march of one hundred and seventy miles—Terrible loss of camels—Nejef. _February_ 16.—Two Asian Shammar of the Jezireh came last night, and recognised us as having been in Ferhan Pasha’s camp, last year, in Mesopotamia,—a very pleasant meeting, though we have no distinct recollection of either of them. They gave us all the latest Jezireh news in politics. Ferhan and his brother Faris are now at open war, though Ferhan is no fighter himself, and leaves the conduct of affairs to his eldest son, Aassa. All the Shammar of the Jezireh are with Faris, except Ferhan’s own tail, and the Abde, and the Asslan, Muttany’s men, and our old friend Smeyr ibn-Zeydan. It is true also that Faris is now friends with Jedaan. All this we are glad to hear.