We saw neither tree nor water. A few black tents of the Bedawîn formed a welcome relief from the blinding glare. Not a sound disturbed these solitudes, except the occasional bark of a dog in the tents below. Ameen told us that the people living in this region are distinct from other races, their dialect is different from that of other districts, their traditions, habits, and dress are those of an entirely different people. Our brave little horses accomplished that fearfully hot journey in grand style; they carried us up those awful rocks and along the edges of precipitous steeps which filled our minds with horror. Ameen and “Bon Jour” sang their monotonous Arabic songs in shrill keys, or dozed in their saddles. Mustapha untiringly walked on with his peculiar swinging gait, often lost to sight, but turning up again, bearing in his hands bouquets of exquisite flowers, which he offered to us with a grace of manner which added much to the pretty gift. The heat grew more and more intense. Not a breath of wind gave relief. I can well believe one writer, who says, “There are probably few places in Asia where the sun beats down with as fierce a heat and irresistible power as in the desert of Judah.” It was two o’clock before we dismounted and sat down under the shadow of a square tower known as the Ladies’ Tower and built on a knoll. A narrow fissure divides it from the Monastery of Mar Saba into which no woman is allowed to enter. We were tired and hungry, but Ameen soon unstrapped the luncheon baskets and spread out on the rock the hard-boiled eggs, the sardines and other dainties for our meal. We fell to with much spirit, while Ameen and Mustapha went to the convent to boil water and make us refreshing tea. Our first visitor was a yellow dog, thin and mangy, who snapped up hungrily the morsels of food we threw to him. Then a dozen or so dark heads belonging to young girls and boys popped up above the edge of the rock; these were followed by a couple of wild-looking men, from the Bedawîn encampment below. They all stared solemnly at us and smiled at our manner of eating, but they did not beg. Presently a couple of Arab youths, smartly dressed (for they were servants to a party of travellers who were camping close by), made their appearance, and, perching themselves on a crag, gathered the ragged Bedawîn together, and held forth with great animation, the audience listening with open mouths. Miss B. amused us by translating the address which excited so much interest. _We_ were the subject of it. “The Frangi ladies,” the Arab youth said, “are like men. They do things like men—they ride, they gallop, they run! They eat what they like. They go where they like—they never ask their husbands! All the Frangis are rich; they have flocks and goats and camels. They can buy the whole world if they like. They have seen the whole world, and they can speak the Arabic!”