[p.180] Muna, more classically called Mina,[FN#6] is a place of considerable sanctity. Its three standing miracles are these: The pebbles thrown at “the Devil” return by angelic agency to whence they came; during the three Days of Drying Meat rapacious beasts and birds cannot prey there; and, lastly, flies do not settle upon the articles of food exposed so abundantly in the bazars.[FN#7] During pilgrimage, houses are let for an exorbitant sum, and it becomes a “World’s Fair” of Moslem merchants. At all other seasons it is almost deserted, in consequence, says popular superstition, of the Rajm or (diabolical) lapidation.[FN#8] Distant about three miles from Meccah, it is a long, narrow, straggling village, composed of mud and stone houses of one or two stories, built in the common Arab style. Traversing a narrow street, we passed on the left the Great Devil, which shall be described at a future time. After a quarter of an hour’s halt, spent over pipes and coffee, we came to an open space, where stands the Mosque “Al-Khayf.” Here, according to some Arabs, Adam lies, his head being at one end of one long wall, and his feet at another, whilst the dome covers his omphalic region. Grand preparations for fireworks were being made in this square; I especially remarked a fire-ship, [p.181] which savoured strongly of Stambul. After passing through the town, we came to Batn al-Muhassir, “The Basin of the Troubler,[FN#9]” (Satan) at the beginning of a descent leading to Muzdalifah (the Approacher), where the road falls into the valley of the Arafat torrent. At noon we reached the Muzdalifah, also called Mashar al-Haram, the “Place dedicated to religious Ceremonies.[FN#10]” It is known in Al-Islam as “the Minaret without the Mosque,” opposed to Masjid Nimrah, which is the “Mosque without the Minaret.” Half-way between Muna and Arafat, it is about three miles from both. There is something peculiarly striking in the distant appearance of the tall, solitary tower, rising abruptly from the desolate valley of gravel, flanked with buttresses of yellow rock. No wonder that the ancient Arabs loved to give the high-sounding name of this oratory to distant places in their giant Caliph-empire. Here as we halted to perform the mid-day prayer, we were overtaken by the Damascus Caravan. It was a grand spectacle. The Mahmil, no longer naked as upon the line of march, flashed in the sun all green and gold. Around the moving host of white-robed pilgrims hovered a crowd of Badawin, male and female, all mounted on swift dromedaries, and many of them armed to the teeth. As their drapery floated in the wind, and their faces were veiled with the “Lisam,” it was frequently difficult to