package as it was thrown over the camel’s back; and his nephew, an ugly
pock-marked lad, too lazy even to quarrel. We were ordered to lose no
time in loading; all started into activity, and at nine A.M. I found
myself standing opposite the Egyptian Gate, surrounded by my friends,
who had accompanied me thus far on foot, to take leave with due honour.
After affectionate embraces and parting mementoes, we mounted, the boy
Mohammed and I in the litter, and Shaykh Nur in his cot. Then in
company with some Turks and Meccans, for Mas’ud owned a string of nine
camels, we passed through the little gate near the castle, and shaped
our course towards the North. On our right lay the palm-groves, which
conceal this part of the city; far to the left rose the domes of Hamzah’s
Mosques at the foot of Mount Ohod; and in front a band of road, crowded
with motley groups, stretched over a barren stony plain.

After an hour’s slow march, bending gradually from North to North-East,
we fell into the Nijd highway, and came to a place of renown called
Al-Ghadir, or the Basin.[FN#2] This is a depression conducting the
drainage of the plain towards the northern hills. The skirts of Ohod
still limited the prospect to the left. On the right was the Bir Rashid
(Well of Rashid), and the little whitewashed dome of Ali al-Urays, a
descendant from Zayn al-Abidin:—the tomb is still a place of Visitation.
There we halted and turned to take farewell of the Holy City. All the

[p.60] pilgrims dismounted and gazed at the venerable minarets and the
Green Dome,—spots upon which their memories would for ever dwell with a
fond and yearning interest.

Remounting at noon, we crossed a Fiumara which runs, according to my
Camel-Shaykh, from North to South; we were therefore emerging from the
Madinah basin. The sky began to be clouded, and although the air was