could not alter, nor deprive them of the glories of their
association.

I had submitted, and the arrangements had been made. Joseph, my
dragoman, was to come to me with the horses and an Arab groom at
five in the morning, and we were to encounter our Bedouins outside
the gate of St. Stephen, down the hill, where the road turns, close
to the tomb of the Virgin.

I was sitting alone in the public room at the hotel, filling my
flask with brandy,--for matters of primary importance I never leave
to servant, dragoman, or guide,--when the waiter entered, and said
that a gentleman wished to speak with me. The gentleman had not
sent in his card or name; but any gentleman was welcome to me in my
solitude, and I requested that the gentleman might enter. In
appearance the gentleman certainly was a gentleman, for I thought
that I had never before seen a young man whose looks were more in
his favour, or whose face and gait and outward bearing seemed to
betoken better breeding. He might be some twenty or twenty-one
years of age, was slight and well made, with very black hair, which
he wore rather long, very dark long bright eyes, a straight nose,
and teeth that were perfectly white. He was dressed throughout in
grey tweed clothing, having coat, waistcoat, and trousers of the
same; and in his hand he carried a very broad-brimmed straw hat.

"Mr. Jones, I believe," he said, as he bowed to me. Jones is a good
travelling name, and, if the reader will allow me, I will call
myself Jones on the present occasion.

"Yes," I said, pausing with the brandy-bottle in one hand, and the