comes to loading up the camels, the scene is not only animated, but sometimes too much so. The Arabs are an excitable race, and the cameleer who finds that his beast is overloaded in the distribution of the burdens of the march, is apt to give utterance to his wrath in loud words and fierce gesticulations. This morning I was startled at hearing the voices of the men; they fairly shrieked with anger — I have no doubt they swore by the Prophet, but as I did not understand Arabic, I was happily spared their imprecations — and I thought they were coming to blows, and that we should have a battle of the Bedaween. But if this were like a thunderclap, it was not followed by much of a shower. After a few minutes of this war of words, they relapsed into silence, and went quietly to work loading up their camels, and marched off as if nothing had happened. This first experience was of use to me afterwards, and when I heard the loud voices of the men, I paid no more attention to them than to the growling of the camels.
In the order of march, my companion and I always started in advance, and started on foot. For this there was a double reason. The hour of sunrise was so inspiring that we were eager to be abroad. It seemed as if the sun was not merely new risen on the world, but risen on a new world. Old things had passed away with the shadows of the night, and all things had become new. The exquisite purity of the atmosphere made it a luxury to breathe, and we could not wait a moment in camp when we were ready for a walk on the desert. Besides this, Dr. Post had a special motive to quicken his steps. He is an enthusiastic botanist, and has already collected twelve thousand species of plants, which he has in the Museum of the College at Beirut, and one object he had in accompanying me to Mount Sinai was to make a collection of the Flora of the
