a few feet of each other, all exceedingly salt, and considered by the Arab merchants and Turks as very unwholesome. One, however, is much better than the others. The Arabs and camels drink of this, and we have filled some of our water-skins, in case the stock from the Nile should not be sufficient; otherwise we shall not use it, as it is extremely salt, and strongly impregnated with iron. One of my servants, not content with his allowance of the water of the Nile, drank a large cup of it, which caused nausea and severe purging for some time afterwards. It has not the same effect on the Ababdes, who apparently enjoy it as much as their camels. There are six families of Bishareen stationed here, who attend to cleaning the wells from sand. The Pasha placed them in this valley, but gives them no allowance. They possess camels, with which they trade, and supply the merchants who need these animals. All the caravans give them a trifle. They live in tents made of mats; and their wild appearance, extraordinary head-dress, yet fine features, quite accord with our idea of dwellers in the desert. The nauseous salt water is their only beverage, but does not seem to disagree with them. I never beheld a more sad picture of savagery and desolation than their encampment. The Arab tribes, even the most remote, cannot be called savages, since they speak one of the richest and most beautiful languages in the world, and many of them are versed in the Koran; but the harsh and uncouth gibberish of these wild Bishareen is only intelligible to themselves. They inhabit tracts of country, where Nature seems almost to deny them a subsistence; and not even the terror of the Pasha’s vengeance can restrain their predatory propensities. A European must have powerful protection from their own chiefs to venture into their inhospitable wilds. The traveller who has little of novelty to interest his attention in the dreary desert cannot readily dispel the gloomy impression forced on his mind by contemplating man in this his lowest condition. When he reflects on the abject state of these naked Bishareen, their ignorance of religious principles, of all intellectual and civilised enjoyments, the scanty and precarious means by which their life is supported: a dish of coarse unground dourah, moistened by water of the most disgusting quality; a miserable tent their only shelter from the tropical sun, and from the nightly cold, so bitter in these regions, and so painful from its contrast with the mid-day heat: he is astonished at the physical phenomenon, that the constitution of man can endure so much privation; and he cannot but admire the mysteries of Providence, when he sees a human being of like capacities and passions with himself content and happy in a state so slightly removed from the condition of the brute.