nomad Kurds who inhabit the mountains in the neighbourhood of Rowandiz during the summer, and the plains around Arbil in winter, I did not feel the necessity of conciliating him as I had done the Arab Sheikhs encamping near Nimroud, nor did I desire to encourage visits from persons of his sanctity and condition. I allowed him therefore to remain without making any return for his presents, or understanding the hints on the subject he took frequent occasion to drop. At length, on the second evening, his secretary asked for an interview. "The Mullah Effendi," said he, "will leave your Lordship's abode to-morrow. Praise be to God, the most disinterested and sincere friendship has been established between you, and it is suitable that your Lordship should take this opportunity of giving a public testimony of your regard for his Reverence. Not that he desires to accept anything from you, but it would be highly gratifying to him to prove to his tribe that he has met with a friendly reception from so distinguished a person as yourself, and to spread through the mountains reports “ that of your generosity." "I regret," answered I, แ the trifling differences in matters of religion which exist between us, should preclude the possibility of the Effendi's accepting anything from me; for I am convinced that, however amiable and friendly he may be, a man of his sanctity would not do anything forbidden by the law. I am at a loss, therefore, to know how I can meet his wishes." "Although," he rejoined, "there might perhaps be some difficulty on that score, yet it could be, I hope, overcome. More

over, there are his attendants; they are not so par ticular as he is, and, thank God, we are all one. To each of them you might give a pair of yellow boots and a silk dress; besides, if you chance to have any pistols or daggers, they would be satisfied with them. As for me, I am a man of letters, and, having nothing to do with arms and boots, you might, therefore, show your approbation of my devotedness to your service, by giving me white linen for a turban, and a pair of breeches. The Effendi, however, would not object to a set of razors, because the handles are of ivory and the blades of steel; and it is stated in the Hadith that those materials do not absorb moisture*; besides, he would feel obliged if you could lend him a small sum five purses, for instance, (Wallah, Billah, Tillah he would do the same for you at any time,) for which he would give you a note of hand." "It is very unfortunate," I replied, "that there is not a bazar in the village. I will make a list of all the articles you specify as proper to be given to the attendants and to yourself. But these can only be procured in Mosul, and two days would elapse before they could reach me. I could not think of taking up so much of the valuable time of the Mullah Effendi, whose absence must already have been sorely

*The Sheeas and some other sects, who scrupulously adhere to the precepts of the Koran and to the Hadith or sacred traditions, make a distinction between those things which may be used or touched by a Musulman after they have been in the hands of a Christian, and those which may not; this distinction depends upon whether they be, according to their doctors, absorbents or non-absorbents. If they are supposed to absorb moisture, they become unclean after contact with an unbeliever.

felt by his tribe. With regard to the money, for which, God forbid that I should think of taking any note of hand (praise be to God! we are on much too good terms for such formalities), and to the razors, I think it would give more convincing proof of my esteem for the Effendi, if I were myself to return his welcome visit, and be the bearer of suitable presents." Finding that a more satisfactory answer could not be obtained, the secretary retired with evident marks of disappointment in his face. A further attempt was made upon Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, and renewed again in the morning; but nothing more tangible could be procured. After staying four days, the Mullah Effendi Bey and his attendants, about twenty in number, mounted their horses and rode away. I was no more troubled with visits from Kurdish Chiefs.

The middle of March in Mesopotamia is the brightest epoch of spring. A new change had come over the face of the plain of Nimroud. Its pasture lands, known as the "Jaif," are renowned for their rich and luxuriant herbage. In times of quiet, the studs of the Pasha and of the Turkish authorities, with the horses of the cavalry and of the inhabitants of Mosul, are sent here to graze. Day by day they arrived in long lines. The Shemutti and Jehesh left their huts, and encamped on the greensward which surrounded the villages. The plain, as far as the eye could reach, was studded with the white pavilions of the Hytas and the black tents of the Arabs. Picketed around them were innumerable horses in gay trappings, struggling to release themselves from the bonds,

which restrained them from ranging over the green pastures.

Flowers of every hue enamelled the meadows; not thinly scattered over the grass as in northern climes, but in such thick and gathering clusters that the whole plain seemed a patchwork of many colours. The dogs, as they returned from hunting, issued from the long grass dyed red, yellow or blue, according to the flowers through which they had last forced their way.

The villages of Naifa and Nimroud were deserted, and I remained alone with Said, and my servants. The houses now began to swarm with vermin; we no longer slept under the roofs, and it was time to follow the example of the Arabs. I accordingly encamped on the edge of a large pond on the outskirts of Nimroud. Said accompanied me; and Salah, his young wife, a bright-eyed Arab girl, built up his shed, and watched and milked his diminutive flock of sheep and goats.

I was surrounded by Arabs, who had either pitched their tents, or, too poor to buy the black goat-hair cloth of which they are made, had erected small huts of reeds and dry grass.

When I returned in the evening after the labour of the day, I often sat at the door of my tent, and giving myself up to the full enjoyment of that calm and repose which are imparted to the senses by such scenes as these, I gazed listlessly on the varied groups before me. As the sun went down behind the low hills which separate the river from the desert -- even their rocky sides had struggled to emulate the verdant

clothing of the plain - its receding rays were gradually withdrawn, like a transparent veil of light, from the landscape. Over the pure, cloudless sky was the glow of the last light. The great mound threw its dark shadow far across the plain. In the distance, and beyond the Zab, Keshaf, another venerable ruin, rose indistinctly into the evening mist. Still more distant, and still more indistinct was a solitary hill overlooking the ancient city of Arbela. The Kurdish mountains, whose snowy summits cherished the dying sunbeams, yet struggled with the twilight. The bleating of sheep and lowing of cattle, at first faint, became louder as the flocks returned from their pastures, and wandered amongst the tents. Girls hurried over the greensward to seek their fathers' cattle, or crouched down to milk those which had returned alone to their well-reinembered folds. Some were coming from the river bearing the replenished pitcher on their heads or shoulders; others, no less graceful in their form, and erect in their carriage, were carrying the heavy load of long grass which they had cut in the meadows. Sometimes a party of horsemen might have been seen in the distance slowly crossing the plain, the tufts of ostrich feathers which topped their long spears showing darkly against the evening sky. They would ride up to my tent, and give me the usual salutation, "Peace be with you, O Bey," or, "Allah Aienak, God help you." Then driving the end of their lances into the ground, they would spring from their mares, and fasten their halters to the still quivering weapons. Seating themselves on the grass, they related deeds of