after the manner of oriental houses--yet there is always a certain sense
of imprisonment about Damascus, as the windows of the houses are all
barred and latticed, and the gates of the city are shut at sunset. This
would not have suited our wild-cat proclivities; we should have felt as
though we were confined in a cage. So after a search of many days we
took a house in the environs, about a quarter of an hour's ride from
Damascus, high up the hill. Just beyond it was the desert sand, and in
the background a saffron-hued mountain known as the Camomile Mountain;
and camomile was the scent which pervaded our village and all Damascus.
Our house was in the suburb of Salahiyyeh, and we had good air and light,
beautiful views, fresh water, quiet, and above all liberty. In five
minutes we could gallop out over the mountains, and there we pitched
our tent.

I should like to describe our house at Salahiyyeh, once more, though I
have described it before, and Frederick Leighton once drew a sketch of
it, so that it is pretty well known. Our house faced the road and the
opposite gardens, and it was flanked on one side by the Mosque and on the
other by the Hammam (Turkish Bath), and there were gardens at the back.
On the other side of the road were apricot trees, whose varying beauty of
bud and leaf and flower and fruit can be better imagined than described.
Among these apricot orchards I had a capital stable for twelve horses,
and a good room attached to it for any number of _saises_, or grooms; and
beyond that again was a little garden, through which the river wended its
way. So much for the exterior. Now to come indoors. As one entered,
first of all came the courtyard, boldly painted in broad stripes of red
and white and blue, after the manner of all the courtyards in Damascus.
Here too splashed the fountain, and all around were orange, lemon, and
jessamine trees. Two steps took one to the _liwan_, a raised room open
one side to the court, and spread with carpets, divans, and Eastern