These are the historical circumstances with which Scott has to deal; and it is on a mission from such a council, made up of discordant factions, convened during the sickness of Richard, that we find the Knight of the Red Cross, or as he is afterward styled, Kenneth the Scot, bearing a message to the celebrated Hermit of Engaddi. His adventures by the way are as romantic as any recorded in the Knights of the Round-Table; for, as he directed his course toward a cluster of palm trees, he saw suddenly emerge therefrom a Saracen chief mounted on a fleet Arabian horse. As they drew near each other they prepared for battle, each after the manner of his own country. “On the desert,” according to an Eastern proverb, “no man meets a friend.” The heavy armor of the crusader and his powerful horse are more than an even match for the wily Saracen. The Scottish knight might have been likened in the conflict to a bold rock in the sea, and the swift assaults of the Eastern warrior to the waves dashing against it only to be broken into foam. After a long struggle, which was worthy of a larger audience, the Saracen calls a truce, and the Mohammedan and Christian, so lately in deadly conflict, make their way side by side, each respecting the other’s courage, to the well under the clustered palms. The student of history will find in the description of this hand-to-hand conflict an object-lesson of the garb and manners of the Eastern and Western races; and will learn more in the conversation that follows, as they partake of their scanty meal, of the sentiments and customs of the hostile races than can be gathered from the pages of any history with which I am acquainted: for Sir Walter had the marvelous faculty of absorbing history. He saw everything so vividly that he was able to reproduce it in living forms. As we read his description, we sit with them under the palms; we hear them now responding in courtesy, and again in sharp discussion, as allusion is made to their respective religions or modes of life; and, as they resume their journey, we feel grateful to the novelist for the beautiful figure which he puts in the mouth of the Scottish knight in answer to the Saracen’s boast of harem-life as contrasted with a Christian household. “That diamond signet,” says the knight, “which thou wearest on thy finger, thou holdest it doubtless of inestimable value?” “Bagdad can not show the like,” replied the Saracen; “But what avails it to our purpose?” “Much,” replied the Frank, “as thou shalt thyself confess. Take my war-axe and dash the stone into twenty shivers; would each fragment be as valuable as the original gem, or would they, all collected, bear the tenth part of its estimation?” “That is a child’s question,” answered the Saracen; “the fragments of a stone would not equal the entire jewel in the degree of hundreds to one.”