As soon as we left the bottom of the valley, the path, which became rugged and stony, led up the southern cliffs, went round the east side of the conspicuous promontory, and then continued to wind along between the slopes of the higher level of the plateau. A hill, distinguished from among the surrounding heights by the peculiar shape of its cone, has here received the significant name Shúsh el ʿabíd—the Slaves’ Cap. A little further on, the roads separate, that to the left leading along the principal branch of the valley to the little town Gharíya, while the eastern goes to the well Taboníye. One might suppose that in a desolate country like this, and just at the entrance into a desert tract of great extent, the caravans would gladly avail themselves of those abodes of life which still exist: but this is not the case; they avoid them intentionally, as if a curse were attached to them, and those places, of course, fall every day more and more into decay. After a little consultation, the path by Taboníye was thought preferable, and we took it. The rough and stony character of the country ceased, and we gradually entered a fine valley, called Wady Tolágga, richly clothed with a variety of trees and bushes, such as the sidr, the ethel, the ghurdok, and several others. After meeting here with a caravan, we caught the gladdening and rare sight of an Arab encampment, belonging to the Urínsa, and obtained some milk. Without crossing any separation or defile, but always keeping along the same valley, we approached the well Taboníye. But near it the vegetation is less rich; the soil is intermixed with salt, and covered with a peculiar kind of low tree called by the present inhabitants of the country, frʿo,—a term which in pure Arabic would only mean “a branch.” [Illustration] While our people were busily employed pitching the tents, I went at once to examine a monument which, for the last hour of our march, had stood as a landmark ahead of us. I reached it at the distance of a mile and a quarter from our encampment, over very stony and rugged ground. It was well worth the pains I had taken; for, though it is less magnificent than the monument in West Tagíje, its workmanship would excite the interest of travellers, even if it were situated in a fertile and well-inhabited country, and not in a desolate wilderness like this, where a splendid building is of course an object of far greater curiosity. It is a sepulchre about twenty-five feet high, and rising in three stories of less slender proportions than the monument above described, and is probably of a later period. The sketch on the preceding page will suffice to give an exact idea of it.