tect my eyes, I had provided myself in Cairo with goggles, which I immediately mounted, and which for a time afforded great relief: a sudden shadow fell on the landscape, as if a welcome cloud had intercepted the rays of the sun; all things took another hue; the yellow sand put on a purple tint that was grateful. But after an hour or two, I found that the blue glasses, while they shut out the glare, also shut out the view of the desert; and as I wished to see it in all its savage nakedness, I uncovered my eyes. As a partial protection, I had purchased in Cairo a pith hat, or helmet, such as is commonly worn in India, which is perforated to furnish ventilation for the head, and which projects in front so as to afford a partial screen for the eyes. At Mount Sinai I bought of a monk a straw hat of immense brim, such as I had never seen worn except by Chinamen in the East. It seemed to be modelled after the top story of a pagoda, and settled on my head like an extinguisher. It was very good on the desert except as the wind blew, when it took the breeze like a sail or a parachute. After many experiments, I came to the conclusion that the best protection against both the blinding glare and the withering heat, was the Indian helmet, supplemented by a broad, generous umbrella. The latter should be specially constructed for the purpose — double-lined, and with a long, stout handle that can be lashed to the pommel of the saddle. With these two protections combined, one may feel that he has a double awning on the upper deck, and will hardly be in danger of ophthalmia or sunstroke. And yet let the traveller do what he will, there are certain stubborn realities that are here, and that cannot be changed: the fierce sun is over his head, and the burning sand is under his feet; and after all precautions, he will find it necessary to offer the prayer that the sun may not strike him by day, nor the moon by night.
