El doollah had not started; and leaving them all in the road below us, we passed the little knots of countrywomen who sit by the Báb-el-M`kabar selling myrtle for laying upon the graves, and wound our way uphill through the old Mussulman cemetery, with its quaint domed tombs and toothed, arched doorways, cracked, decayed, and yellow with lichen, half hidden among the tangle of bushes and wild flowers on the rough slope.
Word Of The Day