On the 10th July 1875 a very serious attack was made upon the whole party, and it is a marvel that any of them escaped with their lives. Fatigued with a long and arduous march, and a final ascent of 2000 feet, they chose a camping ground north of _Safed_, a town which lies in a saddle of the high mountains of Upper Galilee and looks down on the lake. The tents were about half way up when Major Conder, resting on his bed, in shirt-sleeves and slippers, heard angry voices in altercation. Looking out, he saw to his astonishment a sheikh, evidently a man of good position, engaged in throwing stones at Habib, who, with his hands spread out, was calling the bystanders to witness the treatment he underwent. Conder advanced to demand an explanation; but the sheikh, who was mad with passion, strode up to him, seized him by the throat and shook him, meantime pouring out unintelligible words. Major Conder had been accustomed to be treated with respect, even by the highest officials in the country; and he felt that if he submitted to this insult he would lose his influence with the natives for ever, so he knocked the man down. He got up and returned to the attack, with one arm behind him. Conder knocked him down a second time, and as he fell observed in his hand a knife with a blade a foot long. Conder’s party consisted of five Europeans and ten Maronites, and when the latter heard news of the insult received by their “Kabtân,” they came running up, quite beside themselves, and soon seized the sheikh, took his knife away, and bound his arms behind his back. The sheikh cried out, “Where are my people?” and the Moslem bystanders began to throw stones. Conder’s servants were running to the tents for arms, for they had eight revolvers ready for use, besides three shotguns and a rifle. Their “captain,” however, was wiser; he had the sheikh immediately released, and sent Habib at once to the Governor of the town. But the crowd presently numbered about three hundred, and all the more violent engaged in hurling stones. Lieutenant Kitchener was struck more than once, and a muleteer was knocked over. The cries which Christians in Palestine have good reason to dread, associated as they are with memories of bloodshed, were now raised by the mob--“Allah! Allah!” and “Din! Din! Mohammed!” the cry of the Damascus massacres. Presently a number of fully-armed men came running down the hill-side, all relatives and retainers of the sheikh, who indeed, it afterwards appeared, was no less a person than ’Aly Agha ’Allân, a near relative of ’Abd el Kâder himself. “I advanced at once” (says Conder) “to meet these assailants, and singled out two men, one a white-bearded elder with a battle-axe, the other a tall man with a club. They addressed me with many curses, and the old man thrust the battle-axe against my ribs; but it was a wonderful instance of the influence which a European may always possess over Arabs, that they allowed me to take