It will be bad enough to get sun-struck, without looking ridiculous into the bargain.

If I fall, let me fall bearing about me the semblance of a Christian, at least.
Three or four hours out from Damascus we passed the spot where Saul was so abruptly converted, and from this place we looked back over the scorching desert, and had our last glimpse of beautiful Damascus, decked in its robes of shining green.

After nightfall we reached our tents, just outside of the nasty Arab village of Jonesborough.

Of course the real name of the place is El something or other, but the boys still refuse to recognize the Arab names or try to pronounce them.

When I say that that village is of the usual style, I mean to insinuate that all Syrian villages within fifty miles of Damascus are alike--so much alike that it would require more than human intelligence to tell wherein one differed from another.