Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III. GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. GarQon!! Gargon!!!" These were the words which rang through our ears like the blare of a trumpet, at daybreak on the following morning at Ramleh. We recognized the voice as that of our English fellow-traveller. With a feeling of alarm we hastily made our toilet and opened the door, fearing that mischief might be brewing. Inn, Or Khan. We found our friend Mr. H standing in his open doorway, clad only as if he had just arisen from sleep, shivering in the crisp morningair, attempting to arouse the attendants in the basement. " Gar9on" is the French name for waiter, and we concluded that Mr. H had adopted it, because we were now at the Frank Hotel, where French would seem to be most appropriate. We found out afterwards, however, that it was our friend's habit, when travelling in any foreign country, to make a dash at French, even if the people understood English perfectly well. "Gaon" seemed more polite and courteous than " waiter," hence, no doubt, its frequent use. At last one of the guides appeared, whereupon a colloquy took place of a most animated description. It seems that Mr. H had determined that his luggage, consisting of several heavy trunks, should be kept with us during our month's journey. On this point a long debate had taken place at Jaffa, the guide wishing the trunks sent by steamer to Beirut, to await our arrival. A compromise had been effected by hiring an extra mule to transport the effects, and now Mr. H had awakened, in fear, lest his bundle of twelve canes and nearly as many umbrellas had been forgotten at Jaffa. Hence the alarm;—and what, with the mixture of fair English, bad French, and barbarous Arabic; the opening of the heavy mule packs, the braying of the animals, and the presence of wonderi...