about ten yards in length,--this
the thickness of the wall--I muse of another people skilled in the art
of building. But between the helots who built the pyramids and the
freemen who built this massive citadel, what a contrast! The Egyptian
mind could only invent fables; the Phoenician was the vehicle of
commerce and the useful arts. The Egyptians would protect their dead
from the tyranny of Time; the Phoenicians would protect themselves,
the living, from the invading enemy: those based their lives on the
vagaries of the future; these built it on the solid rock of the
present...."

* * * * *

But we have had enough of Khalid's gush about the Phoenicians, and we
confess we can not further walk with him on this journey. So, we leave
his Excellency the mudir snoring on the divan, groaning under the
incubus of the Gold Mine Fake, bemoaning his losses in America; pass
the zabtie in zouave uniform, who is likewise snoring on the
door-step; and, hurrying down the stairway and out through the stivy
arcade, we say farewell to Our Lady of the Gate, and get into one of
the carriages which ply the shore between Junie and Jbail. We reach
Junie about sundown, and Allah be praised! Even this toy of a train
brings us, in thirty minutes, to Beirut.

-----

[1] Khalid would speak here of poached eggs, we believe. And the
Americans, to be fair, are not so totally ignorant of the art of
frying. They have lard--much worse than water--in which they
cook, or poach, or fry--but the change in the name does not
change the taste. So, we let Khalid's stricture on fried eggs and
boiled cabbage stand.--EDITOR.

CHAPTER V

UNION AND PROGRESS

Had not Khalid in his retirement touched his philosophic raptures with
a little local colouring, had he not given an account of his tramping
tour in the Lebanons, the hiatus in Shakib's _Histoire Intime_ could
not have been bridged. It would have remained, much to our vexation
and sorrow, somewhat like the ravine in which Khalid almost lost his
life. But now we return, after a year's absence, to our Scribe, who at
this time in Baalbek is soldering and hammering out rhymes in praise
of Niazi and Enver, Abd'ul-Hamid and the Dastur (Constitution).

"When Khalid, after his cousin's marriage, suddenly disappeared from
Baalbek," writes he, "I felt that something had struck me violently
on the brow, and everything around me was dark.