y told to me as nearly as I can remember it, and the
lifeless pallor of the old Frenchman's face and those of his family
certainly gave colour to the narrative. It is very hard to believe in
starvation when you are surrounded on all sides by beautiful gardens and
orchards abounding in fruit; and those at Sidon were surely the loveliest
on earth. All round the town stretched great masses of green, in the midst
of which, like diamonds in a sea of emeralds, were white cupolas and
summer-houses, with scores of fountains playing all day long. On the hills
behind the gardens were many modern houses admirably built after the
Italian fashion, whose mellow terra-cotta blended effectively with the
green mass below. Riding through the umbrageous lanes between countless
orchards you could believe anything but that people here were starving.

The division had been promised a rest at Sidon for the remainder of the
day, but shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon an urgent message came
ordering us to make a forced march in order to reach Beyrout, thirty-five
miles away, the following night! At four o'clock we left the beach and
climbed steadily past those glorious gardens, until we struck the highroad.
A few miles outside Sidon, we passed an inn which could not have changed
much in character since the time of Christ. It formed a bridge across the
road, and thus gave shelter to the passer-by from the noonday heat in
summer and the torrential rains in winter; on one side there were the
living rooms for the traveller and on the other side the stables wherein
his ass or his horse could rest for the night. There were a few men lying
in the shade of the "bridge" as we passed, and, peering into the stable, I
could just see a donkey contentedly munching at the manger: the whole scene
seemed to have come straight out of the New Testament.

Later in the afternoon I noticed a beautiful little house standing in its
own garden, and rode over to examine it more closely. One thing only I saw;
the rest was blotted out. Nailed to his door was the body of the owner, and
beneath lay the charred--yes, charred--remains of what had once been his
legs. He had been crucified and burnt alive; the twisted body, and the
awful, tortured expression on the martyred man's face, left no room for
doubt.

After a halt for a couple of hours at midnight we began the final stage.
While it was yet dark we had tremendous difficulty with those camel-drivers
who were una