The people of Aleppo, who saw me purchasing the goods, told me that M. Lascaris was become mad. Indeed his dress and his manners made him pass for mad. He wore his beard long and ill-combed, a white turban very dirty, a shabby robe or _gombaz_, with a vest beneath, a leather belt, and red shoes without stockings. When spoken to, he pretended not to understand what was said. He spent the greater part of the day at the coffee-house, and ate at the bazaar, which was never done by the higher people. This behaviour had an object, as I afterwards discovered; but those who knew it not thought his mind was deranged. As to myself, I found him full of sense and wisdom; in short, a superior man. One day when all the goods were packed, he called me to him, to ask what was said of him at Aleppo. “They say,” replied I, “that you are mad.” “And what do you think yourself?” said he. “I think that you are full of sense and knowledge.” “I hope in time to prove it so,” said he; “but I must have you engage to do all I shall order, without reply or asking a reason; to obey me in every thing; in short, I must have a blind obedience; you will have no occasion to repent.” He then told me to fetch him some mercury; I instantly obeyed: he mixed it with grease and two other drugs, of which I was ignorant, and assured me, that a thread of cotton dipped in this preparation and tied round the neck was a security against the bite of insects. I thought to myself there were not insects enough at Homs, or at Hama, to require such a preservative; that therefore it was destined for some other country; but as he had interdicted every remark, I merely asked him on what day we should depart, that I might order the moukres (camel drivers.) “I allow you,” he replied, “thirty days to divert yourself; my chest is at your disposal; enjoy yourself, spend what you like, spare nothing.” This is, thought I, for a farewell to the world which he wishes me to make: but the strong attachment I already felt for him stifled this reflection; I thought no longer but of the present, and availed myself of the time he allowed to enjoy myself. But alas! the time for pleasure soon passes! it soon came to an end. M. Lascaris pressed me to depart; I submitted to his orders, and profiting by a caravan that set out for Hama, Thursday the 18th of February, 1810, we left Aleppo, and arrived at the village of Saarmin, after twelve hours’ march. The next day we set out for Nuarat el Nahaman, a pretty little town, distant six hours. It is celebrated for the salubrity of the air and the goodness of its waters; it is the native place of the celebrated Arabian poet Abu el Hella el Maari, who was blind from his birth. He had learned to write by a singular method. He remained in a vapour bath while they traced on his back the form of the Arabic letters with iced water. Many are the traits of sagacity related of him; among others the following:--Being at Bagdad with a calife, to whom he was continually boasting of the