Who can sufficiently admire the adaptation of this creature to the desert, in which the Maker and Ruler of all has placed him? No heat exceeds the power of his endurance; steadily, patiently, silently he stalks his long strides over the yellow ground—one animal following another in regular military step. And during our travels at least he never flagged—the large eyes never lost their brightness; and who ever saw a camel, even though his master may seek rest or shade as he finds opportunity, shrink from the blazing brightness of the sun?
Halted for the night shortly before five p.m., the journey having been one of eleven hours. But the Arabs insisted on our being placed behind the corner of a re-entering valley, in order that our fire
and smoke might not be seen during the night by hostile people from a distance.
Thermometer at sunset, 81½° Fahrenheit.
We found footprints of gazelles, storks, and hyenas.
Mount Hor at that distance, and in that direction, very much resembles the Salisbury Crags of Edinburgh.
April 9th—Sunrise, Fahrenheit 63½°. Tents struck, and all on the march by half-past five. Losing sight of Mount Hor.
At a quarter to eight a breeze sprung up from the north, so refreshing in that hot and dry wilderness as to merit the praise of the Bedawi poem, beginning—
“Shemâli, ya hawa ed-deeret shemâli.”
“The north! O thou wind of the northern direction,
It has increased my blessing, and all that belongs to me,
And after weakness of state, has changed my condition.”
I find, however, that this literal translation gives but a very poor idea of the feeling concentrated in the words of the original, and only feebly expresses the reminiscence of that time as still preserved at the moment of this writing.