the depredations of the Arabs of the Desert. Obliged to draw their subsistence from Arabia, Greece, and Egypt,-the corn they used growing at Scio, the wool of which their garments are woven coming from the Peloponnesus, the coffee which they drink ripening at Mocha,-it followed that, after the revolt of the Beys and the domination of the Mamelukes, the latter levied an enormous tax on the different supplies which the monks derived from Alexandria, Juddah, or Suez: but this was not all; it was necessary to treat with the Arabs for the transport of the goods, and to pay an escort, which nevertheless did not hinder some more numerous or braver tribe from stopping the caravan. By such an accident the convent lost, not only its provisions, but some of the fathers, who, when once taken prisoners, were not liberated without an enormous ransom. Thus the life of these brave monks was a continual struggle for the first necessaries of life. Moreover, the Bedouins, like a cloud of birds of prey, incessantly hovered round the monastery, ready to enter at the least imprudence of the monks, seizing everything which wandered from the walls, whether man or beast. The misery of these good fathers was therefore at its height, when one day they learned from the Arabs themselves, that a man had come from the West, with the words of a prophet and the power of a deity. They resolved to seek this man,

and ask his protection. In consequence, the monks assembled, elected two deputies, bargained with the chief of a tribe to escort them to the person they sought; and the delegates then departed, taking with them the last hopes of the convent. They followed the coast of the Red Sea for ten days; they then reached Suez, and saw a strange flag floating over its walls. They asked where was the Sultan of the Franks, and were told he was in Cairo; for in eighteen days he had made the conquest of Egypt. They continued their road across the Desert; they traversed Mokattan, and arrived at the city of El-Talún. Their ancient enemies, the Mamelukes, had been driven out like dust; Morad Bey, defeated at the pyramids, had fled into Upper Egypt; Ibrahim, conquered at Al Arish, had sought refuge in Syria; and the same flag which they saw at Suez, floated over the minarets of Cairo. They entered the city, which they found calm and tranquil: they arrived at Al Bekir; they asked to speak with the Sultan; they were shown his residence, and presented themselves at the gate. An aide-de-camp led them into the gardens to the tent where Buonaparte usually sat, when the first hours of evening allowed him to quit the lower rooms, which were kept cool by currents of air and by fountains.

"Buonaparte was sitting at a table with a large map of Egypt unfolded before him. There were

with him Caffarelli, Fourrier, and an interpreter. The deputies addressed him in Italian, and explained the object of their journey.

"Buonaparte smiled; they had flattered him more than the most adroit courtier would have done; his fame had reached Asia, and was about to penetrate to India through Yemen. He was still ignorant of the power of his name, when two poor monks came a hundred leagues through the desert to declare its amount. He made the delegates sit down, and while coffee was preparing, dictated a firman to the interpreter. It was this document which the monks showed to us, and which still ensured the safety of their travels, and the secure transport of their provisions through the cities and across the Desert.

"From that day the monks had been respected. One day the Turks recovered their power, the Mamelukes regained the cities, the Arabs once more were masters of the Desert; but neither Turks, Mamelukes, nor Arabs dared to violate the firman granted by their enemy; so that even at the present hour, the monks of Sinai, objects of veneration to the surrounding tribes, may pass the Desert alone and without escort, under the safeguard of the magic signature of Buonaparte, half effaced by the religious kisses of the descendants of Ishmael, who had some days before pillaged a caravan bound for Mecca, and carried off the daughter of a Bey into slavery."

This evening Bechara had been a listener, contrary to his custom, although he could not comprehend the old monk's recital, save by his gestures; but he remarked the attention we gave the narrative while it lasted. Judging that at so late an hour it would require a very extraordinary history to efface the impression which had been produced, he recognised his insufficiency, and dissembling the shame of his defeat under a gracious farewell smile, he wished us good night, and stretched himself on the sand at the door of our tent.

XIII. THE VALLEY OF WANDERING.

THE next morning, before leaving us, the monks of Sinai asked us if we had any letters of recommendation for their convent. We told them, that when leaving Cairo we were about to apply for letters to the monks of the Greek convent, when we had been stopped by the nuptial procession; so that we had set out trusting to ourselves, and hoping that our personal appearance would serve instead of passports. It appeared, from their reply, that if we had not met them, the physical recommendation on which we relied, would have afforded but moderate aid, and that we would not even have been admitted into the convent. But they could obviate this inconvenience; and in return for our hospitality, gave us what we wanted, that is to say, letters of introduction by means of which we should be hospitably received. They then scribbled some Greek lines, which we folded up with as much care as if they had been the firman of Buonaparte itself.

We had spent a detestable night; fatigue is not always a sure road to sleep: ours was accompanied by dull pains in every part of the body; then on certain points these pains were fixed more sharp and