places among the vineyards, and carried them away "every man to his tribe and family." They dance around sacred trees also at the same season. On the site of the ancient Phœnician city commonly called Old Beyrout, on the spot where evidently once stood a sacred grove — now represented by a single oak that has virtue to cure sickness — on September 21st, the people — men and women separately — dance and sing all night. There is a Roman inscription on an altar in the Phœnician Sun temple higher up the hill, dedicated to the god of the dancing festivals.
The children of the Friends' Mission Training Homes furnished us with the best illustrations of native games. The one of these which was the least like any European one I have seen is called Ambeel. The boys divided themselves into two ranks, facing each other at some distance apart, with a line drawn on the ground midway between them. One side sent out a scout across the line into the territory of the other. The moment he had stepped over it, he began calling in one breath, as rapidly as he could, and loud enough for everyone to hear: "Ambeel! Ambeel! Ambeel! Ambeel!" The enemy had to stop his doing so by compelling him to take breath, and if they succeeded he was out of the game, but they must throw him down, or otherwise make him stop speaking, without his touching them with his hands; if he does so, then the one he touches is out, and he returns victor to his friends. If he finds himself getting spent, he may retire; but the act of retreat proves often the opponents' opportunity to rush in. The two sides send out the scouts alternately, till a certain number are first "out" — the number to be mutually agreed upon previously — and the side holding in the longest, of course, wins. The girls seem to have no running or knock-about games of any sort; but a variety of the common game with knucklebones is played.
I have spoken of the terrible and universal fear inspired by the Evil Eye. Not everybody can cast it, and it is not
