[p.287] The foreground is well fitted to set off such a view; fields of black basaltic scoriae showing clear signs of a volcanic origin, are broken up into huge blocks and boulders, through which a descent, tolerably steep for camels, winds down into the plain.

After a few minutes’ rest I remounted, and slowly rode on towards the gate.  Even at this early hour the way was crowded with an eager multitude coming out to meet the Caravan.  My companions preferred walking, apparently for the better convenience of kissing, embracing, and s[h]aking hands with relations and friends.  Truly the Arabs show more heart on these occasions than any Oriental people I know; they are of a more affectionate nature than the Persians, and their manners are far more demonstrative than those of the Indians.  The respectable Maryam’s younger son, a pleasant contrast to her surly elder, was weeping aloud for joy as he ran round his mother’s camel, he standing on tiptoe, she bending double in vain attempts to exchange a kiss; and, generally, when near relatives or intimates, or school companions, met, the fountains of their eyes were opened.  Friends and comrades greeted one another, regardless of rank or fortune, with affectionate embraces, and an abundance of queries, which neither party seemed to think of answering.  The general mode of saluting was to throw one arm over the shoulder and the other round the side, placing the chin first upon the left and then upon the right collar-bone, and rapidly shifting till a “jam satis” suggested itself to both parties.  Inferiors recognized their superiors by attempting to kiss hands, which were violently snatched away; whilst mere acquaintances gave each other a cordial “poignee de mains,” and then raising the finger tips to their lips, kissed them with apparent relish.

Passing through the Bab Ambari we defiled slowly down a broad dusty street, and traversed the Harat

[p.288] (Quarter), Al-Ambariyah, the principal in the Manakhah suburb.  The thoroughfare is by no means remarkable after Cairo; only it is rather wider and more regular than the traveller is accustomed to in Asiatic cities.  I was astonished to see on both sides of the way, in so small a place, so large a number of houses too ruinous to be occupied.  Then we crossed a bridge, a single little round arch of roughly hewn stone, built over the bed of a torrent, Al-Sayh,[FN#3] which in some parts appeared about fifty feet broad, with banks showing a high and deeply indented water-mark.  Here the road abuts upon an open space called the “Barr al-Manakhah.[FN#4] or more concisely Al-Barr, “the Plain.”  Straightforward a line leads directly into the Bab al-Misri, the Egyptian gate of the city.  But we turned off to the right; and, after advancing a few yards, we found ourselves at the entrance of our friend Hamid’s house.

The Shaykh had preceded us early that morning, in order to prepare an apartment for his guests, and to receive the first loud congratulations and embraces of his mother and the “daughter of his uncle.[FN#5]” Apparently he had not concluded this pleasing duty when we arrived, for the camels were kneeling at least five minutes at his door, before he came out to offer the usual hospitable salutation.  I stared to see the difference of his appearance this morning.  The razor had passed over his head