Such musings beguiled the weariness of the way. Towards noon we descried across the plain a projecting cliff, to which we directed our course, and dismounting, threw ourselves under its shade. The dragoman brought the saddles from the camels, and placed them as pillows for our heads. Thus stretched at length, we felt how grateful beyond all words was "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." An hour's rest was followed by our midday meal, which was enlivened by the appearance of an unexpected guest. As we were taking our oranges and figs, there rode up on his camel an Arab of somewhat commanding appearance, whom our dragoman instantly recognized and announced as the Sheikh of all the Bedaween of Sinai. He wore no sign of his rank except a red silk tunic, and yet he is held in awe throughout the Peninsula, and has among these wild tribes an almost unlimited authority. Of course we could not be wanting in proper respect to such a guest. Not to be outdone by Oriental hospitality, we begged him to alight and partake of our repast — an invitation which he did not wait to have repeated. To tell the truth, he seemed to be blessed with a comfortable appetite, and made no objection to the quality of our fare. After he had feasted to his heart's content, and while he still sat on our outspread rugs, with his legs curled under him like a Grand Turk, and was smoking his pipe, it occurred to me, with true editorial instinct, that it would be a good opportunity to "interview" him, and I signified my desire to enter into a conversation, and was about to begin in the abrupt American way, when Dr. Post checked me, intimating that an Oriental must be approached with a more formal courtesy. He asked him, therefore, a few questions in regard to his family, expressing the liveliest interest that the long line of emirs from which he was descended, and from which he derived his authority, might
