flies with his heels. This is all very well, but when he tries to kick a

fly off the top of his head with his hind foot, it is too much variety.

He is going to get himself into trouble that way some day. He reaches

around and bites my legs too. I do not care particularly about that,

only I do not like to see a horse too sociable.

I think the owner of this prize had a wrong opinion about him. He had an

idea that he was one of those fiery, untamed steeds, but he is not of

that character. I know the Arab had this idea, because when he brought

the horse out for inspection in Beirout, he kept jerking at the bridle

and shouting in Arabic, "Ho! will you? Do you want to run away, you

ferocious beast, and break your neck?" when all the time the horse was

not doing anything in the world, and only looked like he wanted to lean

up against something and think. Whenever he is not shying at things, or

reaching after a fly, he wants to do that yet. How it would surprise his

owner to know this.

We have been in a historical section of country all day. At noon we

camped three hours and took luncheon at Mekseh, near the junction of the

Lebanon Mountains and the Jebel el Kuneiyiseh, and looked down into the

immense, level, garden-like Valley of Lebanon. To-night we are camping

near the same valley, and have a very wide sweep of it in view. We can

see the long, whale-backed ridge of Mount Hermon projecting above the

eastern hills. The "dews of Hermon" are falling upon us now, and the

tents are almost soaked with them.

499

The Innocents Abroad