took it out of the sack, and put it on the ground, when the poor mother nursed it with great satisfaction.
These little camels were a great amusement to us. We had one in our camp but a few weeks old, the offspring of one of our saddle-beasts, that followed its mother all the way to Gaza, six days march. Like the young of all animals, it had a certain prettiness that did not belong to the huge form of the full-grown camel. But it had none of the fun and frolic of a young colt. The solemnity of that little creature was overpowering. Once or twice the Doctor tried to stir it up to play, but it made no response to these attentions, except to rise up slowly and move off a few paces, as if in silent protest against such familiarities. He gave it up, concluding that the love of fun and play was wholly wanting in the camel, whose "moral nature" seems to be subdued to the endless monotony of the desert.
The following day the sheikh left us with many salaams and benedictions. After cheating us all he could, he gave us his blessing, like some men that are not Bedaween. It was truly delightful, after we had been robbed, to have the man who had robbed us willing to part on the best of terms, hoping to meet us again, and renew our pleasant relations! We were touched by the assurance of his distinguished consideration. The old man wished us Peace: what more could we ask? He gave us his blessing: may it do us good![1]
- ↑ My recollection of two notable personages who appear in these pages — the Sheikh of the tribe of the Tayyahah and the Governor of Nukhl — has been quickened by recent intelligence, which renders it quite probable that both were concerned in the massacre of Professor Palmer and his party, an event which has created such a profound feeling in England, on account of the character of the men who suffered this terrible fate. Edward Henry Palmer was one of the first Oriental scholars in England. In the University of Cambridge he was
