One day as Sidney was musing on the feasibility of crossing the desert at this unfavourable season, in order to spend his Easter at Jerusalem, two strangers entered the coffee-house in which he was seated. As no Indian mail was expected, he could not help examining them with some attention. One was a little man, not of a very prepossessing appearance, with a pale face and a squeaking voice; the other was a stout Scotsman, at least six feet two inches in height of body, and who, before he had swallowed a cup of coffee and smoked a single sheesheh, indicated that he was of a corresponding height of mind, by reminding his companion that he was a literary man. The strangers, after throwing a scrutinising glance at the inmates of the room, continued their conversation in English. The pale-faced man spoke as a foreigner, though almost as correctly as a native, and with a fluency perfectly marvellous. The tall Scotsman seemed not quite satisfied with the degree of familiarity he assumed even in a Caireen coffee-house. “Well, Mr Lascelles Hamilton, it is very true I am going to Jerusalem, and so is Mr Ringlady; but I thought you said you intended to go to Mecca, when you joined us at Alexandria in hiring a boat to Cairo.” “My dear Campbell,” (here Mr Campbell gave a wince, which showed that he was very ungrateful for the endearment,) “I can’t go to Mecca for three months yet; my Arabic won’t have the pure accent of the Hedjas in a shorter space of time. I mean, therefore, to go round by Jerusalem, join the tribes beyond the Dead Sea, and work my way by land.” This was enough for Sidney. He determined to join the party; and was moving out of the coffee-house to take his measures for that purpose, when Aali Bey--a young Osmanlee dandy, who had passed a few months at Leghorn to study European diplomacy--made him a sign that he wished to speak in private. Aali’s story had so long a preface, and was so crammed with flattery and oriental compliments, that Sidney became soon satisfied it would terminate in an attempt to borrow money, if not in robbery and murder. He was nevertheless mistaken; for Aali, after many vain endeavours to shorten his preface, at last stated his real business. It proved deserving of a long-winded introduction, and amounted to a proposition to Sidney to assist in affording Aali an opportunity of carrying off his bride, the daughter of the celebrated Sheikh Salem Abou Rasheed, from Cairo to Syria. Sheikh Salem was a man of great influence at Nablous; and he had been detained by Mohammed Ali as a kind of hostage with all his family, as he was returning from the pilgrimage to Mecca by the easy route of Cosseir and the Nile.