At two p.m., after drinking tea or coffee once more, we proceed to another four hours' spell of work. As sunset and the cold hours draw near, all assemble about the fire, generally two or three huge palm trunks, whose blaze gladdens the soul of the lonely night-sentinel; and, assembling the Shaykhs of the Arabs, we gather from them information geographical, historical, and ethnological. The amount of invention, of pure fancy, of airy lying, is truly sensational; while at the same time they conceal from us everything they can; and, more especially, everything we most wish to know. Firstly, they do not want us to spy out the secrets of the land; and, secondly, they count upon fleecing us through another season. During the whole day, but notably at this hour, we have the normal distractions of the Arabian journey. One man brings, and expects "bakhshísh" for, a bit of broken metal or some ridiculous stone; another grumbles for meat; and a third wants tobacco, medicine, or something to be had for the asking. I am careful to pay liberally, as by so doing the country is well scoured. Dinner, at seven p.m., is a copy of what was served before noon. It is followed by another sitting round the fire, which is built inside the mess tent when cold compels. At times the conversation lasts till midnight; and, when cognac or whisky is plentiful, I have heard it abut upon the Battle of Waterloo and the Immortality of the Soul. Piquet and écarté are reserved for life on board ship. Our only reading consists of newspapers, which come by camel post every three weeks; and a few "Tauchnitz," often odd volumes. I marvel, as much as Hamlet ever did, to see the passionate influence of the storyteller upon those full-grown children, bearded men; to find them, in the midst of this wild new nature, so utterly absorbed by the fictitious weal and woe of some poor creature of the author's brain, that they neglect even what they call their "meals ;" allow their "teas" to cool, and strain their eyesight poring over page after page in the dim light of a rusty lantern. Thus also the Egyptian, after sitting in his café with all his ears and eyes opened their widest, whilst the story-teller drones out the old tale of Abú Zayd, will dispute till midnight, and walk home disputing about what, under such and such circumstances, they themselves would have done. To me the main use of "Tauchnitz" was to make Arabia appear the happier, by viewing, from the calm vantage-ground of the Desert, the meanness and the littlenesses of civilized life--in novels.