ABSTRACT
April 1.1.'—Thank God! our news is all good news, and we can go on lighthearted now to the end of our journey, enjoying the prospect thoroughly of the delights of home.
We left the Bir Sakr this morning, just as the flocks of the Welled Ali were beginning to arrive. Poor creatures! they have had no water these three days, and have been driven in their thick winter fleeces at least fifty miles under a burning sun. We did not stop to talk long with the shepherds, but made away south-west in the direction of Damascus. Everyone assures us that we shall meet the Bo^la on the road, or at least a party of Sleb, who will tell us where the Eodla are. Then Mohammed has
a vague knowledge of the country for some miles farther yet, and a black slave from Beteyen's tent is with us, recommended by Meshur to our protection. He, too, knows something of the road. Our way lay up a wady between two well-marked ridges, and at nine we passed a ruined khan on the old Palmyra road, called according to Mohammed, Halbe. The country is covered with scarlet poppies, camomiles white and yellow, irises, and a sort of pink aster, all in the greatest profusion, as if in a flower garden.
