The plateau is covered with grass, and beneath it is a large reservoir, now a garden. Charmed with the spot, desire inclined us to linger, but prudence warned us to depart. The waters of El-Haramîyeh have washed the bloodstained hands of many a highwayman, and the native of to-day hurries on conscious of danger nigh. A band of robbers were encamped upon the lawn when we reached the fountain. Some were whiffing their narghilehs; others were testing their strength in gymnastic sports, while around the captain of the band two girls were dancing to the music of timbrel and castanets. They returned our salutations, and, after drinking of the cool, sweet water, and plucking a few ferns as mementoes, we recrossed the channel, and began to ascend toward Shiloh. As we advanced the scenery assumed higher forms of sublimity. The mountains approached each other, and rose to the clouds; but when, in turn, the hills receded and the valleys opened, the former were terraced and clad with vineyards, and the latter planted with wheat and corn. Attired in gay costumes, peasant-girls were at work on the terraces, singing merrily; shepherds, with long guns thrown across their shoulders, were winding with their flocks around the loftier cliffs; while far away to the northwest, following the devious mountain-paths, were trains of camels and asses, whose tinkling bells awakened the echoes of the everlasting hills. More than once we dismounted to gather the tempting wild-flowers, and press the pretty anemones, poppies, amaranths, and white-thorn roses. Reaching the head of the valley, we left Sinjil on the west to visit ancient Shiloh. Before us lay a broad fertile plain, running toward the Jordan, and in the midst of which stands the Arab town of Turmus ’Aya. To the north of the village the path leads up a gentle acclivity, and then, descending into a narrow valley, it gradually ascends through cultivated fields to the hill on which the renowned city of Samuel stood. At the southern base of the hill stands an old square tower, originally a mosque, and over it a large oak spreads its ample branches. The surrounding hills are round and naked, the valleys narrow and stony, and the landscape featureless and forbidding. Covering a low ridge, projecting from the central chain of mountains, are the scattered ruins of Shiloh. Consisting of heaps of hewn stone, with now and then a broken column, the remains are embedded in rank weeds and tall grass, and destitute of the ordinary attractions of a fallen city. Near them is an old ruined church, which, in the age of the Crusaders, served as a fortress. The walls, four feet thick, are supported by buttresses. Over the entrance is a sculptured _amphora_, between two wreaths, and within the inclosure are a few fallen Corinthian columns. Half a mile to the east, in a wild glen, is the famous fountain of Shiloh, issuing from the rocks, and flowing into a deep reservoir, where shepherds water their flocks.