The view from the Mukhâlid camp was very extensive; the Carmel ridge and the Mahrakah peak were plainly seen, with the whole broken line of the watershed blue in the distance, and white villages on little knolls, sharply defined against the shadow of the long flat curve of Ebal; the crater of Sheikh Iskander, with the lower plateau to the north, was distinctly shown against the sky-line, and, yet more distant, appeared the Safed mountains and a silver thread of snow on Hermon, one hundred miles away. To the south, the eye roamed over low sand-dunes with patches of red and of bright yellow, with a few scattered oaks, over corn-land, and, farthest off, a long line of cliff, with a promontory on which the town of Jaffa was seen distinctly. Thus the panorama from Hermon to Jaffa embraced a distance of 120 miles. On the 7th we marched up into the hills, to a place called Kefr Zîbâd, and experienced a frightfully hot sirocco. The treeless plain was scorched with heat, the flowers all dead and the corn all reaped. The grey hills, the olives, houses, and ruins, had a fossilised appearance, and, over all, a terrible leaden sky was spread; the poor dogs hid from the sun in the thorny bushes, and had to be thrown into every pond that was passed to cool them. Next day was as bad, but, on the 9th, the fresh breeze from the sea came back, and the work became less arduous. The country was one scarcely visited before by Europeans, and the villagers were in some cases so alarmed by our appearance and our arms, that they fled in the greatest terror; but a report got about that we were sent by the Sultan, to see which of the villages had become ruinous, and hence we became favourites, and every possible ruin in the village lands was shown to us with the greatest eagerness, as it was supposed that taxes would be remitted in proportion to the amount of desolation. At one place called Bâka the great gig umbrella over the theodolite attracted much attention; and here, as at Kâkôn, the chief delight to elderly men was a peep through the theodolite telescope. “What do you see, O father?” cried the less fortunate who crowded round the observer. “I see Hammad and his cows, two hours off, as if he were close here!” replied the delighted elder. Here also we were near Kûr, the head-quarters of another of the great native families like our old friends the Jerrâr; and the head of the house--which is called Beit Jiyûs, came to see me with some twenty followers. My knowledge of Arabic was still most rudimentary, and I found conversation very difficult; but the old man was quite happy, staring at all the European novelties, and exclaiming at all he saw and heard: “O prophet! O Lord Mohammed! Mashallah!”