the infidels.” Then turning to the guards, “Take the two dogs,” said he, “to the dungeon.”--We were not allowed to say another word. Being brought to the prison, we were loaded with chains from the neck to the feet, and shut up in a dark dungeon, which was so small that we could hardly turn. After a time we obtained a light, and some bread, for a tallari; but the immense quantity of bugs and other insects that infested the prison prevented us from closing our eyes. We had scarcely courage to think of means to get out of the horrible place. At length I recollected a Christian writer, named Selim, whom I knew by reputation as a useful person. I gained over one of our guards, who went for him; and the following day Selim arranged the matter by means of a present of sixty tallaris to the mutzelim, and fifty piastres to his people. At this price we obtained our liberty. This imprisonment procured for us the acquaintance of Selim, and several other persons at Hama, with whom we passed three weeks very agreeably. The town is charming; the Orontes crosses it, and renders it gay and animated; its abundant waters keep up the verdure of numerous gardens. The inhabitants are amiable, lively, and witty. They admire poetry and cultivate it with success. They have been well characterised with the epithet of speaking birds. M. Lascaris having asked Selim for a letter of recommendation to a man of humble condition at Homs, who might serve us as guide, he wrote the following note: “To our brother Yakoub, health! They who will present you this letter are pedlers, and come to you to sell their wares in the neighbourhood of Homs; assist them as far as you are able. Your pains will not be lost; they are honest people. Farewell!” M. Lascaris, well satisfied with this letter, wished to take advantage of a caravan that was going to Homs. We departed on the 25th March, and arrived after six hours at Rastain, which is at present only the ruin of an ancient considerable town. It contains nothing remarkable. We continued our route, and at the end of another six hours we reached Homs. Yakoub, to whom we delivered our letter, received us admirably, and gave us a supper. His trade was making black cloaks, called machlas. After supper, some men of his own rank came to pass the evening with him, drinking coffee and smoking. One of them, a locksmith named Naufal, appeared very intelligent. He spoke to us of the Bedouins, of their manner of living and making war; he told us that he passed six months of the year with these tribes to arrange their arms, and that he had many friends among them. When we were alone, M. Lascaris said to me that he had that night seen all his relatives; and as I expressed my wonder at learning that there were any of the people of Ventimiglia at Homs, “My meeting with Naufal,” said he, “is more valuable to me than that with my whole family.”