ters of their art, and can load a mule with a speed and skill which I
would defy any Santa Fe trader to excel. The animals are not less
interesting than their masters. Our horses, to be sure, are slow, plodding
beasts, with considerable endurance, but little spirit; but the two
baggage mules deserve gold medals from the Society for the Promotion of
Industry. I can overlook any amount of waywardness in the creatures, in
consideration of the steady, persevering energy, the cheerfulness and even
enthusiasm with which they perform their duties. They seem to be conscious
that they are doing well, and to take a delight in the consciousness. One
of them has a band of white shells around his neck, fastened with a tassel
and two large blue beads; and you need but look at him to see that he is
aware how becoming it is. He thinks it was given to him for good conduct,
and is doing his best to merit another. The little donkey is a still more
original animal. He is a practical humorist, full of perverse tricks, but
all intended for effect, and without a particle of malice. He generally
walks behind, running off to one side or the other to crop a mouthful of
grass, but no sooner does Dervish attempt to mount him, than he sets off
at full gallop, and takes the lead of the caravan. After having performed
one of his feats, he turns around with a droll glance at us, as much as to
say: "Did you see that?" If we had not been present, most assuredly he
would never have done it. I can imagine him, after his return to Beyrout,
relating his adventures to a company of fellow-donkeys, who every now and
then burst into tremendous brays at some of his irresistible dry sayings.

I persuaded Mr. Harrison to adopt the Oriental costume, which, from five
months' wear in Africa, I greatly preferred to the Frank. We therefore
rode out of Beyrout as a pair of Syrian Beys, while Francois, with his
belt, sabre, and pistols had much the aspect of a Greek brigand. The road
crosses the hill behind the city, between the Forest of Pines and a long
tract of red sand-hills next the sea. It was a lovely morning, not too
bright and hot, for light, fleecy vapors hung along the sides of Lebanon.
Beyond the mulberry orchards, we entered on wild, half-cultivated tracts,
covered with a bewildering maze of blossoms. The hill-side and stony
shelves of soil overhanging the sea fairly blazed with the brilliant dots
of color which were rained upon them. The pink, the broom, the p