travellers. While I was talking with the Shekh, a Druse came down from the
mountains, and sat for half an hour among the villagers, under the
terebinth, and we have just heard that he has gone back the way he came.
This fact has given us some anxiety, as he may have been a spy sent down
to gather news and, if so, we are almost certain to be waylaid. If we were
well armed, we should not fear a dozen, but all our weapons consist of a
sword and four pistols. After consulting together, we decided to apply to
the Shekh for two armed men, to accompany us. I accordingly went to him
again, and exhibited the firman of the Pasha of Jerusalem, which he read,
stating that, even without it, he would have felt it his duty to grant our
request. This is the graceful way in which the Orientals submit to a
peremptory order. He thinks that one man will be sufficient, as we shall
probably not meet with any large party.

The day has been, and still is, excessively hot. The atmosphere is
sweltering, and all around us, over the thick patches of mallow and wild
mustard, the bees are humming with a continuous sultry sound. The Shekh,
with a number of lazy villagers, is still seated under the terebinth, in a
tent of shade, impervious to the sun. I can hear the rush of the fountains
of Banias--the holy springs of Hermon, whence Jordan is born. But what is
this? The odor of the velvety weed of Shiraz meets my nostrils; a
dark-eyed son of Pan places the narghileh at my feet; and, bubbling more
sweetly than the streams of Jordan, the incense most dear to the god dims
the crystal censer, and floats from my lips in rhythmic ejaculations. I,
too, am in Arcadia!




Chapter VIII.