half dead, I climbed, with the rest of our party, to the summit of a sandstone hill, and enjoyed a wide and imposing view. We were in the midst of a billowy sea of rolling hills, such as I have described, while to the west and east, there were islanded two great mountainranges-that of Serbal, whence we had just come, and the larger cluster of Musa and St Catherine, enclosing the "Mount of God"—itself still invisible; but the knowledge that it was "somewhere there," waked up a thousand eager hopes.

A wavy, sea-like plain, its surface rolling in billowy hills, two clusters of mountains islanded in the distance -one cluster grouping itself round the serrated and shattered crown of Serbal, the other towering up before us in vast forms, beyond the most distant of which we knew was the sacred "Mount of God;"-such was the character of the scenery in the Wady Es Sheikh, on which we were travelling from Feirân to Sinai. We journeyed amidst these tangled hills towards the latter mountain-group, drawing ever nearer and nearer, until at last the noble Wady ran along its very skirts. Yet there seemed at first, to our eye, no entrance into its secret labyrinths; for, as far as we could see, it was surrounded by an unbroken wall of rock, that in a low line of blackened granite, about 800 feet high, girdled round the whole of the inner and grander masses. As we rode for some time along this vast enclosure, and realised that the sacred Horeb-altar of the law-giving was there, withdrawn far within, we felt, indeed, as if encircling the outer walls of a mighty temple. Nor was this feeling a bit lessened, when suddenly we turned into the majestic portal of

natural rock, where, as if cut for it by the chisel of a great king, the road, as even as an avenue, passed through a cleft about forty feet wide, on either side of which rose the frowning gateway of weather-stained and gloomy granite. It was, indeed, an imposing, nay, even solemnising approach to the sacred shrine of our pilgrimage. But this gateway has an interest for us of a more distinct character. In all likelihood it was here, or in the immediate neighbourhood, that Rephidim was, with its smitten rock, and the battle with Amalek.

Passing through the great natural gateway which we have described, we entered at once the great mountaincluster of Horeb. We were again amidst vast granite ranges, and advancing by a broad and majestic avenue towards Sinai. A ride of an hour or two brought us to a point where three or four wadys meet, forming an open among the hills. Here stands the tomb of Sheikh Saleh, a low, rude hut of stones, but reverenced as their most sacred shrine by the Arabs of the Peninsula. We dismounted, and entered the building. There was nothing inside in the way of ornament, or to show that the Arabs were disposed to be extravagant in their expressions of respect for the memory of the dead Sheikh, whoever he may have been. A few scraps of soiled linen, and handkerchiefs and camel-halters, formed the sole adornments; and these were presented, I suppose, as votive offerings, for diseases cured, or camels saved from breaking down in awkward places. Around the rude hut were one or two graves, where, as in consecrated ground, were deposited the remains of devout Towara. Once a year the open plain, in which stands the tomb, is filled with the

black tents of the tribe; for from all parts of the peninsula they then assemble here to perform some sort of religious service in honour of their saint-but of what nature I know not, as an Arab's religion is about as invisible an adjunct of his existence as need be. Theoretically, it seems to be to link Mohammed on to every age and individual history, from "Mousa" downwards; and, practically, to be useful for asseverating the most honest motives before discussing the terms of a bargain in which he is resolved to cheat if he can.

When we had examined the tomb, and again resumed our journey, one or two of our escort stayed behind to pray. I think it was the only time I saw them thus engaged during our whole journey.

Leaving a more open country behind us, we now entered on that long stretch of the Wady Es Sheikh, which leads up to the Plain Er Rahah and the Mount of God. We were now only eight miles from Sinai, and before us ran this great avenue-like some vast cathedral aisle, by which we were approaching the still vaster and more solemn altar. In about an hour we caught our first view of the Gebel Mousa. For as the Wady Sebaiyeh opened up on our left, (of which more anon,) we saw at its further end the high top of Sinai—a bold crown of rock, with the mountain not sloping, but falling down at once from its summit in a vast precipice. In a minute or two we again lost sight of it, and continued on in the same great Wady Es Sheikh for about an hour, when at last we emerged on the noble plain of Er Rahah, beheld the famed cliffs of Safsâfeh frowning above us, and encamped by the so-called Hill of the Golden Calf. It was now

about two in the afternoon, so considering it impossible to attempt the mountain that day, we determined to devote the rest of it to a visit to the Convent of St Catherine. The point where we were encamped was at the mouth of the valley in which the convent stands, called after the old Sheikh of Midian-the Wady Shouaib, or of Jethro. It runs up from the plain Er Rahah, towards Gebel Mousa, with the vast shoulders of that mountain enclosing it on the right, while the bare rocks of the Gebel ed Deir are on the left. The summit of Gebel Mousa, or the traditionary scene of the law-giving, is quite concealed from the view by these shoulders which I have described, and it is not until you have gone as far as the convent, more than a mile up the valley, that it is visible. We found, to our astonishment, a regular road, almost macadamised, leading up from the Er Rahah to the convent, and which appeared to us, as the sea-weed did to Columbus-a harbinger of humanity further on. The "House of the Desert" is nobly situated, with its massive and quaint pile of grey battlements rising abruptly and boldly on the first rocky slope of Mount Sinai. As we drew near it, the green plot of gardenground, the dark cypress trees, mingled with the fresher colouring of the fig and almond, afforded quite a new and most grateful contrast to the bare desolation of the wilderness.

And now that we were under the high walls of the fortress, the question was, how to get in. At the highest part there was a little covered stage, with a windlass and a rope dangling from it, such as one sees on the side of a cotton mill at home, but no door was visible. The