to heart the lessons of history while there is yet time. In two ways much may be done to bring about the desired result.

In the first place, it is respectfully suggested that the leaders of the Party should again define with some precision the programme which, in due course, will be submitted to the people for their endorsement. It is not always the most prudent course to forbear to prescribe until you are called in to consultation. Now is the appointed time. Let the policy of the Unionist Party be placed forthwith before the electors with directness and simplicity. It is because the Unionist cause can be made so virile and so invigorating that it is the duty of all those who love their country to propagate its principles with courage and frankness. Every one can do something; though only those who are endowed with eloquence and ability can be trusted adequately to propound the Imperial and Constitutional programme upon public platforms throughout the land. In the selection of suitable candidates to hold aloft the Unionist flag, something has yet to be learnt by elective bodies. Unless it is borne in mind that the political capacity of a prospective candidate is of more importance than

his financial equipment, the task of winning and maintaining seats will be rendered immeasurably more difficult. In these days a constituency can be sold, but it can rarely be bought, and a candidate blessed with an abundance of worldly goods can do little, unless he is endowed with political aptitude and a certain degree of eloquence. But, above all things, it is essential that he should be a man of independent character. Let Unionists remember that the character of the leaders and of the followers in a political party act and react upon each other in a thousand subtle ways. And let them bear in mind that an obligation is laid upon each and every loyal citizen to see to it, so far as he can make his influence felt, that those whom he chooses as his representatives in Parliament shall be men of courage and character, ready and willing to perform without flinching the responsible duties which belong to their high office. It is not men of brains but men of high character whom this country stands most in need of to-day, and in the selection of their representative men who dare refuse to take his part; who can escape from responsibility?

ARTHUR PAGE.

TRAVEL is not all-I fear it is too little-a serious performance. Even in countries where unrecorded chapters of history, expressed in terms of crumbling wall and scattered potsherd, of abandoned road and waterway, enrich every path, I will warrant that the attention of the gravest explorer will not be occupied exclusively with their deciphering. And if the course of the modest archæological enterprises that I may have to recount should be enlivened (as is indeed probable) by cheerful company, good fellowship, and rambling talk, why should not such matters find their place in the tale? The mind refuses to be fixed forever on high themes; it breaks away to thoughts connected with the campingground that lies at the end of the day's march; it falls into musings that centre round the comfort of a seat cushioned by camel packs, when the friendly sound of the pounding of coffee beans shall mingle with the bubbling of the narghileh and the crackling of thorns upon the hearth. To these things awakened memory returns, and, more than these, to the great majesty of the waste, to the encompassing silence of its nights and days, to the unbroken passage of its sun and stars from verge to verge of the

world.

In the spring of 1909 I sat in the guest chamber of the Mudîr of Kubeisah, an oasis that lies four hours' journey to the west of the Euphrates, and listened to the accounts offered to me by the assembled company concerning the post-road across the Syrian desert. On one point all opinions were unanimous : it would be difficult in that year of unwonted drought to penetrate farther than the first stage upon the way, the ruined fortress of Khubbâz, six hours west of Kubeisah. My informants added that there were two other ruins yet farther to the west-" Amej and Muhaiwir." "Are they old ?” said I. "Old?" echoed one of my interlocutors. "They are from the first time." To Khubbâz I went, carrying water with me, and concluded that it must have been a small guardhouse of the Mohammadan period constructed during the great days of the Khalifate, when the direct road between Baghdad and Damascus was more frequented than it is at present. Thereat I turned south and came presently upon the Mohammadan palace of Ukhaidir, standing solitary in the sands of the Wâdi al- Ubaid. That story I have told elsewhere. But the problem presented by Khubbâz and by

those two other unvisited ruins

"from the first time" remained in my mind, and, when in January 1911 I was preparing to return to Ukhaidir, I determined that I would take no other route than the desert post-road, and follow the medieval track, the existence of which seemed to be indicated by the guardhouse of Khubbâz. The direct line across the Syrian desert from Damascus to Hît on the Euphrates is not unknown to Europeans, but those who have crossed it have travelled in great haste, riding night and day with the camel post; and thus it is that the few points of interest upon it have never, so far as I know, been adequately described.

I reached Damascus on the 17th of January, and found my servants and my pack-horses waiting for me. They had marched down from Aleppo through deep snow, and we thanked God, prematurely, that the sharpest days of winter were over before we had yet entered shelterless ways. I did not intend to take the horses and muleteers over the postroad, where even in mid-winter water is scarce, and corn at all times unobtainable; my plan was to send them by Palmyra to Dair al-Zôr on the Euphrates, and thence by the high-road to Hît. From Damascus to Dair al-Zôr there is a caravan track with a few villages upon it and gendarmerie stations at long intervals, where the caravan could find water and food, and in cold weather a lodging. It is four days' march to Palmyra, and four or five more to Dair, while ten days' easy journey

down the Euphrates brings you from Dair to Hit-nineteen or twenty days at a loose computation, and of those but eight or nine through the Syrian desert. For my part, I proposed to take with me only the Aleppine Fattûh, a well-tried companion, and travelling as light as winter outfit, water, and food-supplies would permit, I reckoned that we should need twelve to fourteen days to reach Hît. I was therefore anxious to give the caravan a few days' start, but before I sent off the horses it was necessary to make sure of my own camel transport.

There lives in Damascus a man who is reputed to be one of the best authorities on all that concerns the desert. He belongs to the tribe of the 'Agail, which was famous as early as the days of of the Prophet, and is now known as the merchant tribe among the Beduin. In the spring the 'Agaili shaikhs bring the camels of Mesopotamia and Arabia to the markets of Syria and Egypt-I have travelled from Palmyra in their company. Their wide experience of all parts of the wilderness, and the terms of friendly neutrality on which they stand with the great nomad communities, give them high qualifications as guides, and in this service they are esteemed both by private traders and by the Government. The family of Shaikh Muhammad al-Bassâm has houses in Basrah, and on the Red Sea, and in Central Arabia. They do a considerable trade with India, and they are respected not only

for their wealth, but for their generous hospitality. They befriended Doughty in his perilous journey through Nejd, and to many another traveller they have given cause for gratitude. To Muhammad al-Bassâm I went, and asked his advice in the matter of camel- hiring. He did not conceal from me that my project presented difficulties. It was winter, and the camels had not come in from the warm Eastern deserts: "And your Excellency understands that the townbred camels you see here are of no profit in the Shâmiyyeh [the Syrian desert];" the tribes were restless, there had recently been a rising in the South; still, with the help of God! He sent one of his servants next morning with Fattûh to the Maidân - the long bazaar quarter which stretches out from the city like a handle from the bowl of a spoon. Here is the seat of native commerce, and here the camel market, for it is in the Maidân that caravans are formed and broken up. Fattûh came back triumphant. A master of camels had been found who would provide me with a good dulûl (a riding camel) and with four ba'irs (baggage animals). The bargain was to be concluded at Muhammad's house that evening, and thither I repaired at dusk.

It was the time of the return of the Hajj from Meccah. The Shaikh's supper-table was spread nightly for all pilgrims who could claim acquaintance with him or with his kin, and

in his guest-chamber a numerous company was assembled when I appeared. Each man as he entered gave the salute to his host and took his place upon the divan which ran round the room, where he was served with coffee and various forms of tobacco. 'Abdullah, Father of Camels, a small and lean 'Agaili, haggled long over the bargain-so long, that the white turbaned mullah who was my neighbour upon the divan went to sleep during the proceedings. Bassâm, a dignified figure wrapped in a gold-bordered cloak, his head covered by a flowing Indian kerchief and crowned with an immense gold-bound agál-the double rope that fastens the Arab head-dress-sat with his hands folded, and at times he lifted his head and exclaimed, "Oh, 'Abdullah, we would finish, wallah! Shall we sit all night in this talk?" And at times he turned to me and observed: "In the winter they go not gladly across the Shâmiyyeh. It is cold, God knows how cold is the Shâmiyyeh. If you would but wait until the spring you should have a hundred dulûls.” In the corner of the room was seated a jovial personage who was made known to me as Muhammad al-Na'mân, Shaikh of Kubeisah. When the bargaining hung fire he engaged me in a lively conversation on the merits of his native oasis, and to 'Abdullah he was loud in exhortations to make up his mind and proceed with the business, face of Allah! At length we came to terms.

I was to have the five camels as far as Hit for £T35; the hiring of the camel-drivers and the feeding of the animals were to fall to 'Abdullah's charge, and one of his men was to undertake the grooming of the mare, which on Bassâm's advice I was to bring with me, and to give a hand to Fattûh in the pitching and striking of tents. For a guide we should take the returning Messenger, the camel-postman, whose arrival in Damascus was daily expected, since 'Abdullah declared that he did not know the Shâmiyyeh, truth of Allah! nor yet the wateringplaces. No sooner was a settlement reached than the sullen countenance of the Father of Camels relaxed into a cheerful human expression, which it continued to wear during the rest of our acquaintance. The decision was taken, and the issue was with Godfor good, please God!

Shaikh Muhammad al-Bassâm, loudly seconded by him of Kubeisah, had still some hints to give me. We were to carry with us plenty of provisions, above all coffee and tobacco, so that we might offer entertainment to any whom we met; raiding parties especially were susceptible to such attentions. "You will ask them to your tents," said Muhammad alNa'mân, "give them coffee and dates, and they will not touch you-no, by the Prophet!" The fountain of his abundant speech was stayed by our host, night having come upon us, and with it the hour of the

evening prayer. He rose from the divan, and addressing the assembled party, said, "Will you pray?" The Mullah woke up hastily, adjusted his turban and divested himself of his cloak, while Muhammad's nephews nephews brought from an inner chamber a large white felt rug, which they laid on the south side of the room. Ten or fifteen of the guests got up, and having cast off their cloaks and thrown the ends of their kerchiefs loosely behind their shoulders, ranged themselves in lines upon the carpet, the Mullah in front to lead the prayer, and Bassâm at the end of the last row. They made the due number of prostrations, and at the close the Mullah, still kneeling, turned to right and left, and blessed those who had not joined in the devotions. These last had continued to converse in low voices, paying little heed to what was going forward; perhaps they had said as many prayers at Meccah as necessary to salvation, on the principle of one of my muleteers, who formulated his simple views of the religious obligations enjoined upon his class in these terms: "Muleteers never pray. Once in our life we make the pilgrimage, and that is enough."

were

Next day the caravan was despatched, escorted by a pair of zaptiehs, and armed with a permit which had been given to me by the Vâli. It was understood that I should join my servants at Palmyra, and another pair of zaptiehs had been placed at my disposal