The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon

by Habeeb Risk Allah

This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.

THE THISTLE
and
THE CEDAR OF LEBANON,

by
HABEEB RISK ALLAH EFFENDI,
m.r.c.s.,
and associate of king’s college.

“And Jehoash the king of Israel sent to Amaziah king of Judah, saying, The thistle that was in Lebanon, sent to the cedar that was in Lebanon, saying, Give thy daughter to my son to wife; and there passed by a wild beast that was in Lebanon, and trode down the thistle.”—2 Kings xiv. 9.

second edition.

LONDON:
JAMES MADDEN, 8 LEADENHALL STREET.

1854

london:
printed by wertheimer and co.
finsbury circus.

PREFACE
to the first edition.

The following pages were written in compliance with the solicitations of many esteemed friends, who were desirous that I should lay before the public an outline of my life and travels, and give to the English nation a description of the domestic habits and religious opinions of my countrymen in Syria. However incompetent I may have proved for the task, I trust that what I have written may not be wholly uninteresting; and above all, it is my earnest hope, that my feeble efforts to arouse the generous interest of the English for the welfare and improvement of my native land, may not prove without use.

In choosing the title which is prefixed to my humble work, I have acted upon the long-established usage of my countrymen of speaking parabolically, a practice which has existed from the days of Job down to the present time.

I cannot conclude without offering my heartfelt thanks to my friend, the Rev. Wm. Frederick Witts, Fellow of King’s College, Cambridge, for the valuable assistance he has rendered me in revising these pages for the press.

R. A.

18, Cambridge-square, Hyde Park,
May, 1853.

PREFACE
to the second edition.

One thousand copies, which constituted the First Edition of this work, having been disposed of within six months, I cannot allow another to go forth without expressing the satisfaction I feel at the liberal encouragement it has met with, and the gratitude I entertain towards my English readers for their indulgence towards it. My acknowledgments are also due to the Press, for the very favourable notices with which it has been invariably honoured by them.

The same hope which animated my labours, and induced me to present them to the public, still cheers me on, namely, that of engaging the attention and exciting the interest of the English nation in the fate and prospects of Syria, my beloved country: a land dear to every thinking mind from its sacred associations, and richly meriting the attention of the man of business and the traveller, from its undeveloped material resources, and from its picturesque beauty and healthy climate.

I can only allude to, in order to deplore, the state of war which now agitates and exhausts it; but in whatever manner the dispute may be settled, I have confidence that England and France will see justice done to an outraged country; and also, that the patriotic cause of our government will finally triumph over its enemies;

for, under the generous and tolerant sway of Abdul Medjid Khan, and his enlightened ministers, far more is to be effected for the welfare of every class of his subjects, than are likely to arise from the interference of any foreign power; and I am sure that the more intelligent portion of the Orthodox Greek population are fully aware of this, and that they are, as they ought to be, loyally disposed towards the Sultan, their sovereign.

As I am now on the eve of quitting England for the East, I take this opportunity of publicly giving expression to my heartfelt sense of the uniform kindness and courtesy I have met with from all ranks in this mighty empire; also, of once more expressing the earnest hope, that when this present contest shall have ceased, British energy, philanthropy, and capital, may be induced to promote the commercial and educational development of the population and resources of my native land. She possesses many natural treasures—she is eager for improvement—she is not far distant.

If to this end the following pages shall have, even in the smallest degree contributed, I shall enjoy the high gratification of believing that neither my life nor my labour has been in vain.

Many inaccuracies, I regret to say, occurred in the First Edition; these I have done my best to correct. Should any (I trust no material ones) have still escaped me, I must crave my reader’s indulgence for them.

London, Feb. 11, 1854.

CONTENTS.

	Page
Introductory Chapter.
	[1]
CHAPTER I.
Reminiscences of early Childhood—MyBirth-place—Sheikh Faris Biridi—EarlyTuition—Family Customs—Position of Shuay-fât,and Pastures—Inhabitants—Author quits for Beyrout	[5]
CHAPTER II.
Beyrout—Piratical Attack—Flight toMountains—Effects of the Assault upon the Inhabitants	[14]
CHAPTER III.
Damascus—Author’s First visitto—Description of the Town—The Inhabitants—TheCustoms and Manners—The Ladies—Their Beauty andFreedom—Court-yards andHouses—Bazaars—Environs—Soirées—Games—Specimensof Poetry and Songs—WonderfulLegend—Refreshments—Entertainment given by theBritish Consul—Privileges of Christians—PadreTomaso—American and BritishMissions—Population—Antiquity—Ravages byCholera	[18]
CHAPTER IV.
Return to Beyrout—American Mission—OriginalDifficulties they encountered—How overcome—TheEstimation of Physicians—Anecdote of Mr.Zohrab—American Doctors—Introduction toSchool—Reminiscences of School-days—Anecdote ofSheikh Ahmed—Lists of Missionaries—Adventure of Mr.Bird—The Pacha’s Revenge—Description of theRise of the Settlement and trade at Beyrout—Climate, Hintswith regard to	[41]
CHAPTERV.
Visit to Cyprus—Description of Voyage—Arrivalat Larnaca—Visit to Nicosia and other towns—CyprusWines—Languages—Departure for Tersous—Arrivalat Mersine—Scenery in Cilicia—Gardens—BuildingsofTersous—Streets—Climate—Inhabitants—SignorMichael Saba—Adana—Its Shops andStreets—Inhabitants—Fanaticism—Revolts—Pacha’sService—The Pass of KulekBughas—Scenery—Departure for Ayas	[57]
CHAPTER VI.
Ayas to Scanderoon—Scanderoon toAleppo—Description of Journey—TheAleppines—Their Style and Polish—A Weddingdescribed—Syrian Step-mothers—Jewish and Christianquarters—Earthquake of 1822—Pastimes and GardenParties—Population—Commerce—Departure forAntioch—Gessir il Haded—Orontes—Antioch	[71]
CHAPTER VII.
Antioch—Its Beauty and Fruitfulness—Visit toSuedia and Lattakia—Signor Mosi Elias—Hardshipsendured by Consular Agents—Anecdote of EnglishTravellers—Uses and Abuses of the ProtectionSystem—Fanaticism of MoslemPopulace—Produce—Lattakia toTripoli—Oranges—Abu Rish—SignorCatsoflis—A fair Intercessor for Justice to theInjured—Results of the Appeal—Cedars ofLebanon—Baalbec—Anecdote of EnglishForces—Turjaman Bashi—Strange Character of SayidAli—Damascus—Djouni and Sidon—LadyHesther—General Loustannau—Description ofSidon—Bombardment of St. Jean d’Acre—Kaipha andMount Carmel—Mistaken Ideas of Love	[85]
CHAPTER VIII.
First visit to England—Sail for Malta—Miseriesof Seasickness—Arrival at Malta—The EmirBeschir—Late Bishop of Jerusalem—Steam FrigateGorgon—Arrival at Portsmouth—Rev. BaptistNoel—London—Souvenir of Wimbledon—A Duelprevented—Anecdote of Druse Sheikh—Return toSyria—Sir George Otway—Arrival at Beyrout—Warbetween Druses and Maronites—Stamboul—Emir Kasim, hisHistory—Lord Cowley—Dr.Bennett—Mr. Goodall—Return toEngland—Malta—Marseilles—Adventure with FrenchOfficer—M. Guizot—Suliman Pacha—M.Thiers—Delicate Mission—Arrival inEngland—Prince Callimaki—Mr. Zohrab—Mr. B.Phillips—King’s College, London—MedicalProfession—Lectures—Frightful Accident—LongIllness—Admission as Member of King’sCollege—The Mir Shahamet Ali and Sir C. Wade—Visit toManufacturing Districts—Lamartine	[122]
CHAPTER IX.
Visit to Paris—FirstImpressions—Boulevards—ChampsElysées—Description of aLodging-house—Domestic Habits of the French—Englishand French Friendship—Departure for Constantinopleviâ Vienna	[164]
CHAPTER X.
Reminiscences ofStamboul—Entertainments—Songs—The Tailor andthe Sultan—The Sultan’s Condescension—Marriageof the Daughter of Prince Vogiredis—TurkishNavy—Present Crisis—A Renegade Girl	[170]
CHAPTER XI.
Egypt—Abbas Pasha and his Improvements—TheBritish Consul-General—Mr. Abet—Mr.Larking—BoghasBey—Antiquities—Climate—Library—Advantagesenjoyed by European Residents—Festivities—Fulfilmentof Prophecy—Late Gift of Horses presented by Nubar Bey toher Majesty—The Hon. G. Massey—Impressions made onthe Grooms	[184]
CHAPTER XII.
Visit to Devonshire, Bath, and Cheltenham—Visit toLady Rolle—Description of Bicton—Travelling by anExpress Train—A Coachman’s Remarks—ThePark—Arrival and Reception—Description of myLife—My Portrait taken—Amusements—Conversationwith Mrs. P--- of Exeter about the Greek Church—EnglishYoung Ladies—Cottage Visiting—Buildings erected byLady Rolle at Bicton—Amusing Anecdote of an EasternPrincess—Drive toExeter—Equipage—Cathedral—Frescoes—Gaol—Childin Prison there—Female Department—Villagers’ Opinions of me—Bath—Beautiesof Country reminded me ofSyria—Springs—Arrival—Sir ClaudeWade—Tour of the City—Society—Diversity ofReligiousOpinions—Service—Soirée—AgreeableRencontre—Second Visit to Bath—Bachelor’sBall—Lady Mayoress’s Ball at theGuildhall—Recognition as a Free-mason—Invitation to“The Lodge of Honour” to meet the Mayor—Meetingwith Dr. Thompson—Lecture—Quoted from thePaper—Visit to Cheltenham—Rev. J. Brown—Rev. C.H. Bromley—Meeting—My Address—Appeal to sendover for, and educate young Syrians at the Normal College atCheltenham—Case of a young Syrian Lad—LordNorthwick—His Collection ofPaintings—Conclusion—Reasons for appearing before thePublic as an Author	[197]
CHAPTER XIII.
Impressions of England—Letters to a Friend in theEast—Voyage toEngland—Landing—Custom-house—CrowdedThoroughfares—EnglishActivity—Hotel—Servants—Drive—MotleyGroups—Squares—Park—Houris—Heart-aches—Dinner—EnglishSplendour, but Syrian Ease and a Chibuk preferred—EnglishAcquaintances—Society—Young Ladies—TheirFreedom—Matrons—TheirAcquirements—Etiquette—Dress—Widows—Gentlemen—EnglishSabbath—Public Schools and Colleges—TheQueen—Missionary and Charitable Institutions—GreatWealth of the English—The Merchants—The FashionableWorld—The Opera—Expensive Pleasure—InsatiableCraving for Riches—Desire for an EnglishHome—Marriages—Children—Schooling—Absenceof Reverence for Beards—Devotion of the Young Fair Sex toUniforms—Kindness to Strangers—Interest in the HolyLand—Hospitality—Private Worth and PublicScheming	[216]
CHAPTER XIV.
Life, Manners, and Customs of Syria—Ceremonies atBirths—Christian Names—Remedies for InfantileDiseases—Early Instruction and Training—SyrianManners—Reverential Treatment of Priests—PersonalCleanliness—Education—Betrothal—Marriage—Polygamyof Mahommedans—Education of Girls—HouseholdMaxims—Domestic Snakes—Mourning for the Dead—ALover’s Lament	[233]
CHAPTERXV.
Syria and her Inhabitants—Description of theSouthern parts of Palestine—The Misery of itsInhabitants—Their Disposition and Labours—Sea-coastPopulation—Their Habits—ScripturalAnalogy—Sidon, Lebanon, Tripoli, Lattakia andAntioch—The Children of those Parts—Appeal to theBritish on behalf of Syria—Real State of the TurkishEmpire—Safety of English Investments—The TurkishDominions—How to purchase Property—English Emigrantswould be welcomed in Syria—Mr. John Barker—ColonelChurchill—Lady HesterStanhope—Fruits—Cultivation of theSoil—Advantages for the English Emigrant and Ameliorationfor Syria—Major Macdonald—His Discovery of Turquoisesand Presentation of some to the Queen—Advice toEmigrants—All Particulars and Expenses of Voyage explained,Outlay, Working, Expenditure and Profits derivable—Climaterecommended for Health	[259]
CHAPTER XVI.
Syria, her Inhabitants and their Religion—ReligiousTeaching in Syria—American Missionaries—TheirZeal—Greek or Orthodox Eastern Church—Interview andConversation with the Patriarch and Bishops atConstantinople—Letter from Syria—The Conversion ofthe Son of a Mufti to Christianity—Lord Shaftesbury and theProtestant College at Malta—Mahommedan Power and theChristian Churches in Syria—Claims of the Orthodox EasternChurch and its Affinity to the Protestant Churches ofEngland—The Four Patriarchs—Education of the SyrianPriesthood—The Service of the Orthodox EasternChurch—Dissenters from it—Account of Karolus theirPatriarch—Dispute about the Head-dress and reference toConstantinople—Decision—Jealousies of the ChristianSects—Political Animosities	[279]
CHAPTER XVII.
The Maronites—Their PoliticalPosition—Anecdote connected with the Year 1821—TheirCustoms, Manners, and Religion—The Number of RomanCatholics in Syria—The Copts—The Nestorians	[299]
CHAPTERXVIII.
The Population of Syria continued—The Metoulis orHeterodox Followers of Mahommed—The Druses—TheNosairiyeh—The Yezidees	[317]
CHAPTER XIX.
Appearance and Costume of the People—The AleppineGreeks—The Dyers—The Armenians—The Yahoodee orIsraelites—The Turkish Effendi—The Bedouins—TheFellaheen	[338]
CHAPTER XX.
The Occupations of the People—Lebanon inApril—The Mulberry Plantations—Anecdote—TheSilkworms—The Wheat Harvest—Borghol—TheVintage—The Olive Winter—The Resources ofSyria—The Small Capitalists in Syria	[352]
CHAPTER XXI.
The Comparative Influences of the Roman Catholic andProtestant Faiths in Syria—The Roman Catholics—TheirConvents—Greek and Armenian Monasteries—The Knowledgeand Practice of Medicine—The Influence of theHakeem—Anecdote—Conversions—The Sisters ofCharity	[370]
CHAPTER XXII.
The Remedy—The EarlyApostles—Physicians—Missionaries—Introductionof the Silkworm from China—Incorporation of the Medicalwith the Clerical Profession—Proposed Society to be formedinEngland—Hospital—School-rooms—Dispensary—Purchaseof Land—Its Cultivation—System ofEducation—Letter of Dr. Thomson—Mr. CuthbertYoung’s “Notes of a Wayfarer”	[384]
APPENDIX.
Notes on the Geology of Syria, by Professor Forbes	[397]

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

In presenting the British public with the following pages, containing a brief sketch of my life and travels, together with a description of the customs and present condition of my native land, I am actuated solely by motives which, I trust, a careful perusal of this work will prove to be disinterested.

All nations are more or less patriotic; none more so than the inhabitants of the British isles. With them the inducements to this love of home are all-sufficient, for their religion is the purest, their government and laws the best in the world, and they are second to no people in the enjoyment of privileges and blessings, such as could be only enjoyed by a “peculiar people,” under the immediate protection of the Almighty Benefactor. Next to them we may rank, as promoters of freedom and enlightenment, the citizens of the United States, those other scions of a noble stock.

Yet so peculiar is that innate love of man for the particular country and people with which are associated the early years of his childhood, that even the son of

utter darkness, born and bred a savage, inured to every hardship and privation, who boasts of no city, scarcely professes a religion, whose home is the desert waste, his bed the warm sands of Arabia, even he, the wild Bedouin, in his untutored heart, sets boundless store by the place and people to which early attachment has rivetted his affections. Separate him from these and from his beloved mare, and no riches or pleasures could compensate him for the loss. This is also applicable to the humble and oftentimes oppressed natives who dwell in the towns and villages of Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine. Though for centuries they have been subjected to the heavy yoke of bondage, and of late years, like the Israelites of old, were bondsmen to Egypt; however much they may have deplored their hard fate, none have ever dreamt of quitting the dear land of their forefathers—those ancestors who were coeval with the patriarchs. Some till the ground where Abraham once tended his flocks; others cut timber where the men of Hiram and Solomon once hewed cedars for the temple at Jerusalem; but the boast and glory of all these is, that they dwell in the land where the Promise was fulfilled. One may be by birth a Nazarene, another a townsman of Cana. A day or two’s journey enables him to reach that very Bethlehem where the blessed Redeemer was born, to track His holy footsteps in His pilgrimage of mercy from place to place, to weep and bemoan Him on the site of the last closing scenes of His holy life, and to raise up their hearts with grateful thanksgivings for the great salvation wrought out for their souls by His glorious resurrection.

Apart from these cherished associations of the spiritual with the temporal world, the native of the Holy

Land is fondly attached to his country, because its climate is congenial to his manners, its soil productive, its inhabitants hospitable, its waters the purest, air the freshest, sun the brightest, fruits the most delicious, and flowers the sweetest and most wildly profuse. All these gifts in the greatest luxuriance are to be found within the Lebanon range—that Lebanon of which the inspired bard, the wisest of men and the best of kings, sings in his beautiful metaphor on Christian love. [3] “Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates with pleasant fruits. . . A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.”

With such a past to dwell on, it is not surprising that the poor, neglected peasant of Syria may still proudly vaunt himself of his birthright and country. I, too, hope, kind reader, for your sympathy in my sharing this national characteristic, and for endeavouring, as far as in me lies, to promote the welfare, both temporal and eternal, of my fellow countrymen and native land. The former, alas! are gradually sinking deeper and deeper into the meshes of superstition and idolatry; the latter groans under a heavy yoke, rendered still less supportable by the grossest ignorance. The indefatigable propagators of the Romish faith are arousing the people from their pristine ignorance, only, I fear, to plunge them into a more fearful vortex of errors.

I rush to the rescue; for God has blessed me far above my countrymen, by shedding the true light of the Gospel around my pathway, through the instrumentality of good and holy men, whom He has chosen for His especial service, and who have bestowed on me the priceless boon of a Christian education. I am

willing and anxious to devote every hour of my life, and all my poor means, to the furtherance of His cause. Yet, though much may combine in my favour, I am inadequate to the accomplishment of the good I desire for my country, without the aid, wise counsel, and support of the Christian inhabitants of Great Britain.

Reader! in the following pages I have endeavoured to depict as clearly as I can the evil and the remedy. I have glanced over the leading features of my life, to show how circumstances, trivial in themselves, appear to have combined in my favour, that I should be an humble instrument in the hands of my Maker, to work out a brighter and better hope for dear Syria.

That “pearl of great price,” pure Christianity, has been cherished and nurtured within these isles till the true faith has reared itself up like a mighty mirror, reflecting the glorious light of the blessed truths of the Gospel far and wide. May one beam of charity, reflected from thence, alight upon the mother church of Syria—that church now sunk in misery and degradation, but from which (remember, O Christian of Great Britain) was derived the glorious knowledge of an eternal salvation.

“The Thistle that is in Lebanon” is the harassed, weak, yet simple disciple of the Eastern Church; and “the Cedar that was in Lebanon” is the true Church of Christ, whose seeds were first derived from those Holy shores, and are now firmly rooted in England. The Thistle has sent to ask thy daughter, Enlightenment, in marriage to her son, Simplicity. O refuse her not lest the wild beast in Lebanon should tread down the Thistle and obtain the ascendancy.

CHAPTER I.
SCENES OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.

My earliest recollections are associated with the lovely and rural village of Shuay-fât, my birth-place, on the Lebanon; and where, if not the happiest, certainly the most innocent years of my childhood were passed. My late father had no fixed residence at that place, but he, with the rest of his family, usually resorted there to spend the summer months and part of the autumn and spring. In winter the cold became intense, owing to the elevated position of the village; consequently most of its inhabitants and summer visitors, including amongst these latter my own family, invariably wintered at Beyrout. My uncle, Sheikh Faris Biridi, filled the important and respected post of katib, or secretary to the Emir Beshir Shahab, the late prince of Lebanon, who resided at the village of Deyr-al Kamar, situated a few hours’ journey from Shuay-fât. At least three times a week my uncle’s duties compelled him to visit the Emir. Sheikh Faris was universally respected amongst the villagers; his house was the best—his grounds the most extensive, and he himself in reality, an intelligent and well-informed man. For a Syrian, he was deeply read and well skilled in the use of his pen; but above

all, he was an earnest and devout Christian, a kind father, and a good friend—virtues which gained for him the esteem and love of all the neighbouring villagers, as well Moslems and Druses as the Christians.

Under the favourable auspices of this kind man’s tuition, I first learned to read and write my native tongue; and, as I was afterwards informed, even at that early age, gave cheering proofs of an active mind, and evinced an aptitude and love for the acquirement of knowledge. I could not possibly have had a better guide, both as regards precept and example. So long as I remained under his hospitable roof, his great and chief care was to richly stock my young mind with doctrines well adapted to promote the welfare of the soul in after years on all important business. His household arrangements were an example for others. He was an early riser himself, and insisted on all his household following this healthful practice: his maxim was that sleep was for the dark hours of the night—work and recreation for the light—prayers and thanksgivings for all seasons.

My uncle was accustomed when at home to repair every morning, during the spring and summer seasons, to the top of a neighbouring hill, which commanded a view over an extensive range of country. On these occasions it was my wont to accompany him. A servant preceded us carrying a small carpet and a cushion or two; I carried my uncle’s pipe and tobacco-pouch with flint, steel, and tinder, in one hand; in the other, the Kitab Mukaddas, or Arabic Bible, printed in England, by the Church Missionary Society. As soon as my uncle had seated himself, and assumed his pipe, he would make me sit at his feet and read out to him from the good Book, illustrating and commenting as opportunity occurred. The hundred and fourth Psalm, than which

none could be better suited to the time and place, was usually his favourite.

From our elevated position, we could command a view, not only of our own dearly cherished and beautiful hamlet, but also of many of the surrounding villages. At our feet lay Shuay-fât, with its neat little cottages and cleanly swept court-yards, surrounded by a dense little forest of mulberries, oranges, lemons, apricots, olives, countless vines, and many other fruits; the dark leaves of an occasional poplar lending variety to the beauty and shading of the foliage. Not a man, woman, or child, moved to and fro in the narrow little streets, but their names and occupations were well known to us. The dogs wagged their tails in happy recognition of my shrill sharp whistle, and a thousand echoes caught up the signal. The verdant hills and valleys that surrounded us were thickly dotted with cattle and sheep contentedly browsing upon the rich pasturage. Peeping over the densely wooded plantations, the tops of the little whitewashed houses pointed out the locality of some well-known village. Clear streams of water sparkling in the glowing sunlight, often intersected the plains and valleys, or rushed headlong down the steep sides of some deep dell, abounding with wild flowers and myrtle bushes. Far below, where the distant fields in square patches of variegated hues, green bespangled with blue and crimson flowers; sometimes covered, like a sheet of pure gold, with countless buttercups, and sometimes in uncultivated patches of sombre brown; but what I most dearly loved to gaze at was the broad blue sea in the distance, looking so pleasantly cool and calm, with here and there a patch of deeper blue, where the breeze sportively ruffled the waves. I always thought of Nabiy

Yunas [8] and the great fish, and wondered if many such fish were yet taking their pastime in the deep. How little I imagined at that time that I was destined to traverse those mighty waters, and to suffer myself to be borne away on their waves hundreds of miles from shore, exposed to raging tempests in a fragile bark! Such a notion would then have been scouted by all my friends; and I myself should have been foremost in deriding the idea, and in opposing, that which has since proved conducive to my best interests, temporal, and I trust eternal; but I was then a child, and understood and acted as a child.

From this pleasant spot, my uncle gazed with rapture upon the surrounding scenery, as the first rays of the sun peered above the snow-capped peaks of lofty Lebanon, and spread a golden mantle over the vast panorama; from my childhood, I have known how to appreciate the beauties of nature in all their poetry; and I admire them still, but with a milder and more subdued admiration.

“He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills.” This was a portion of a morning’s reading lesson; the force and beauty of the verse were illustrated by everything around me. My worthy preceptor would impress this fact upon my mind. The men, the cattle, the trees, shrubs, flowers, birds, butterflies, even the most insignificant insect that crawls upon the earth—all these are preserved, he argued, by the bounty and beneficence of the Creator—without this water how would nature subsist? In short the whole of that delightful Psalm seemed as though expressly composed to illustrate the country around us, especially

that passage which says, “The cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted; where the birds make their nests.”

Thus profitably and pleasantly the early hours of the day would be consumed. I was then dismissed with sage advice, to remember throughout the day what I had read and heard; and my uncle being called away by his avocations, I was left to amuse myself with my play-mates in the village, until the hour of noon summoned us to our substantial mid-day meal. Like most boys, we were prone to mischief. I remember a favourite game amongst the village lads, which occasionally terminated in a squabble, and was known by the name of Al Cadi, or The Judge. The Cadi was chosen by lot, as were the officers of his court, and the imaginary plaintiffs and defendants. Squatted on the ground, under the pleasant shade of some mulberry-tree, we then held a court. Sentence was recorded and executed; and sometimes the boy who personated the imaginary criminal was sentenced to be bastinadoed. On these occasions, the executioners laid about them so smartly with the light switches of the mulberry and olive, that though the boy’s shoes were never removed, the lash penetrated to the sole of the foot, and then the pretended culprit, smarting from pain, would lose all command over his temper; a melée would ensue, which outraged the dignity of the court, and usually terminated by all the members, the Cadi included, being summarily whipped for their naughtiness.

When the hour of mid-day was announced by the striking of gongs, which in Syria are usually substituted for bells at some churches, all our family assembled for futar, and my uncle would enter, followed by the peasants employed about his plantations, together with his other

servants. This was the signal for the cook and her assistant to carry into the centre of the yard a large iron cauldron, containing the ruzz-mufalfal, or whatever was prepared for the day for the supply of the whole household. Clean shining platters were ranged in piles round this cauldron, and a blessing having been first asked, the food was ladled out—a goodly portion for each—enough and no waste. The only distinguishing mark at this family meal was, that the members of my uncle’s family were all seated round a low circular table, and reclined upon carpets and against cushions. The others sat where their fancy dictated; but they chiefly crowded under that side of the court-yard wall which afforded a shade from the heat of the sun. In addition to the contents of the cauldron, there was generally a dish of stewed meat and vegetables; or (if the season was Lent), of the egg-vegetable, or batinjan, and the vegetable-marrow, sliced and fried in oil—with as many cucumbers, pickles, lettuces, radishes, and young onions, as any one wished and asked for. During the repast, one of the servants usually stood at the door to watch for any poor wayfarers who might pass, to ask them to partake of our hospitality. When all had finished, the fragments were divided into equal portions amongst the cats and dogs of the establishment; and what was left by them was given to the fowls and sparrows. Our evening meal differed but little from that of the morning, except on days when the national dish of Kubbee [10] superseded everything else. Then we had

Kubbees in soup made of laban, or curdled milk, and Kubbees fried, and Kubbees baked; for the Syrian can never tire of eating of this delicious dish. The interval between mid-day and the evening was occupied variously—but first came the indispensable siesta, indulged in by men, women, and children. The men would then return to their respective labours, while the women occupied themselves in household matters, and most of the children were sent to the village school; but for myself, my afternoons were occupied with our family spiritual adviser, an excellent old man, who came daily and instructed me, from the hours of two to four p.m. After supper, my uncle would sit in state and receive the visits of the neighbours, who usually dropped in for an hour or two every evening. They sat and smoked, and talked about agricultural matters or village affairs; and sometimes one of the party would tell an amusing story, and another would sing a song—sweetmeats, coffee, and other refreshments being from time to time handed round—and thus the evenings would be spent in pleasant harmless enjoyment. This, with very little variety, is a faithful picture of what was our every-day life at Shuay-fât: and so passed the years of my infancy.

I have omitted to make any personal allusion to the various members of my family. I hope, however, that I shall be pardoned in making a slight reference to my uncle’s lovely daughters, nine in number; these fair cousins of mine outrivalled each other in beauty and amiable qualities, and each had a trait of beauty peculiar to herself. In Syria, it is the custom to distinguish the various members of a family by a soubriquet, which has reference to some perfection or failing. Thus our groom, Yusuf, who limped a little, was called “Topal,” or the lame; and one of my cousins, “Al Shams,” or the sun,

owing to her very bright eyes; whilst another, who had mild blue eyes, was designated, “Al Kamar,” or the moon. Al Kamar was so noted for her beauty and sweet disposition, that two of the chiefs of Lebanon sought her hand in marriage—and this, though they had never seen her; but Al Kamar was not ambitious of honors and riches. The creed of the sheikhs also differed widely from her own; so she refused them both. All these nine daughters are now married and settled in life; so I take leave of them with a fervent prayer, that the Almighty may graciously watch over them, and crown their end with eternal happiness.

Shuay-fât, like most of the surrounding villages, produces a large quantity of silk; but it is in particular celebrated for the excellence of its wine, its olives, and olive-oil. Of the first, I can affirm, that I have, in after-years, heard good judges of wine, when quoting its excellence, refer to it as verifying the words of Hosea (xiv. 7), “The scent thereof shall be as the wine of Lebanon.” It is certainly very odoriferous. The olives and olive-oil are not to be surpassed in all Syria.

The inhabitants, both men and women, are a fine, healthy people, and the males are particularly athletic. To describe them well, I cannot use better or more appropriate language than that of the prophet Ezekiel (xxxi. 3), “Behold, the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of a high stature.”

Yet with all these combined advantages, of health, a delicious climate, and a fertile soil, many of the poor peasants are oppressed and miserable. This arises from the iniquitous system of extortion practised on them by land-owners and subordinate officers. It must, however,

be confessed, that the mountaineers are, to a certain extent, more independent than the inhabitants of the plains, who are ridden over roughshod by the petty and tyrannical under-strappers in office.

I had barely attained my tenth year, when, much to my grief, I was removed from the family of my kind uncle, and taken to Beyrout, there permanently to reside; but, alas for short-sighted mortals, an event was even then brewing, which burst like a tempest, over the Beyroutines, and which materially affected my father’s plans and wishes with regard to my future career in life.

CHAPTER II.
PIRATICAL ATTACK ON BEYROUT.

Months rolled on. Merchants were at that period carrying on a comparatively thriving trade at Beyrout. The novelty of the scene that presented itself on my first arrival there had gradually worn off. In my leisure hours I rambled along the sandy beach, gathering shells, and wading ankle deep into the surf, at first with ill-suppressed fear and trembling; but the example of other boys emboldening me to venture into the water, I finished by becoming quite an adept in the art of swimming. Then the ships were a source of wonder and surprise, as they sailed in and out of the harbour, like gigantic swans floating over the waves. These also had ceased to excite interest, for I had been on board, handled the tarry ropes, walked the deck, and suffered inconvenience from the disagreeable motion, so that these also had ceased to be a marvel. Thus time rolled on, and I had well nigh forgotten all my regrets at leaving Lebanon and the hospitable abode of my uncle, when the unexpected event alluded to in the foregoing chapter, transpired.

It was on Palm Sunday, in, I think, the year 1828. The harbour had been deserted for some few days; there was not even an Arab boat at the anchorage: and on

the eventful evening I am now describing, the eye might have vainly swept the horizon seeking for indications of an approaching sail. This, however, was no uncommon event in those days, when the commerce of Beyrout was yet in its infancy. None imagined, on retiring to rest that night, that impending danger was so close at hand. Midnight had, however, scarcely chimed, and the last occupant of the latest open coffee-house crept home to his hovel, when a tumult arose, and the night air was filled with shrieks and lamentations, mingled with the startling reports of fire-arms. There was a rush in the streets of many people running for their lives; and all the inmates of my father’s household being now thoroughly awakened, ran out also, and joined the flying multitude. The Bab Yacoob, leading to Damascus and Lebanon, was open and unguarded. We fled with the concourse towards the mountains, favored in our retreat by the obscurity of the night; nor did any one think of stopping to breathe or repose till they had gained the summit of one of the neighbouring hills. Here, finding no signs of pursuit, and the clamour and report of fire-arms having died away in the distance, the frightened populace halted anxiously to await the first dawn of day, which was to enable them to secure their retreat to the neighbouring villages. All were totally ignorant as to the cause of the sudden panic, but many laboured under the absurd notion that the place had been attacked by Russian troops. None, however, stopped to be better informed on the subject; but, renewing their flight with the first light of morning, each betook himself and family to that village with which he was best acquainted; and for the next few weeks the Lebanon district was inundated with the scared refugees from Beyrout.

As for ourselves, we directed our steps to Shuay-fât, and accomplished the journey as best we could; arriving there weary and half-famished, to the utter astonishment and dismay of my uncle’s household, who were at first quite at a loss to account for our sudden appearance in so pitiable a condition. Soon after our arrival, official intelligence reached the mountains of what had transpired. A ruffianly horde of piratical Greeks, allured by the hopes of meeting with rich booty, had made this sudden descent upon the peaceful and unsuspecting inhabitants. They had entered the town without resistance, and once in possession of the Quai, had unhesitatingly commenced the work of despoliation. Whole warehouses were stripped—money and rich jewellery carried off—murder and every atrocious crime, the offspring of villany, had been perpetrated. To secure the gold coins and jewellery worn by the women on their heads, wrists, and ankles, the wretches never hesitated to make use of the knife; and ear-rings were wrenched forcibly from the ears of the hapless victims. When the pirates were satiated with plunder, they broke and destroyed what was left; and then, setting fire to different parts of the town, they betook themselves with their booty to their boats, and thus disappeared. Luckily for house-owners, most of the buildings were constructed of solid masonry, with domes and vaulted roofs, so that the fire, even where it had ignited, speedily exhausted its impotent rage. The Moslem rabble, disguised as Greeks, also joined in the general foray.

By this calamity all the residents at Beyrout suffered more or less. Many were utterly ruined; and my poor father’s losses were so severe, that he at first wholly relinquished the idea of ever returning to that place.

For many months afterwards we resided at Shuay-fât; but here also an outbreak amongst the mountaineers disturbed us again, and we were compelled to retrace our steps to Beyrout, which place, from that day forward, became my home.

With regard to the marauders, they escaped scot-free and were neither detected nor punished, as this took place at the time of the Greek revolution and the battle of Navarino, when the government were doubtless too much occupied to notice it.

CHAPTER III.
DESCRIPTION OF DAMASCUS.

It now became necessary that I should seek out and steadfastly follow up some fixed profession or calling in life. There was more than one motive that urged this measure upon me as a necessity: in the first place, my father’s resources had been sadly crippled by the piratical affair; besides, I was of an age when youths in Syria earn their own livelihood, and my education was sufficiently advanced to enable me to enter upon the duties of life. I could read and write my own language; and this was all that was expected, and much more than many youths of my age could boast. I had no thought then of acquiring a knowledge of foreign languages. To escape from the thraldom of school is always a source of great delight to schoolboys.

As far as my own views went, I was bent upon going to Damascus; and though my dear parents opposed this wish at first, I gradually coaxed them into a consenting mood; and perhaps the greatest inducement for them to yield to my wishes, was the fact of our having a wealthy and influential friend, then residing at Damascus, who had been a fellow-katib of my uncle’s, and who occupied a high post in the service of the Pasha.

To this worthy man’s care I was confided; and, taking leave of my dear parents, and accompanied by their

blessing, I left Beyrout, and proceeded to Damascus; a city which existed before the patriarch Abraham’s time, being referred to as a well-known place, in Gen. xiv. It was the chief city of Syria, founded by Rezin, and was sacked by Jeroboam II., king of Israel. It is still a comparatively thriving and populous city, and has those natural resources of climate, soil, and abundance of water, which cannot fail to perpetuate its fame as the garden of the East. Here, shortly after my arrival, I was fortunate enough, through the influence of our friend, to procure a lucrative and rising situation. At this place I remained a considerable time, delighted with its climate and beauty, as also well pleased with my office and with my associates.

No pen can give an adequate idea of the delights of Damascus. The nearest approach I can hope to make to a truthful description, will be simply to depict what I saw and experienced; and this perhaps will give the stranger a better conception of the place than the flowery rhapsodies of many of those writers, whose experience, resulting from a visit of a few days, has been skilfully converted into some dozen chapters of post octavo.

Damascus, like most Eastern towns, has nothing to boast of in the outside appearance of its rough unwhitewashed houses. Its streets are narrow, dark and intricate—crowds of people—caravans of camels—mules—and troops of donkeys—are all perpetually on the move, though not with that rapidity of locomotion so striking to a foreigner on his first visit to London.

The stranger is struck dumb with amazement and disappointment. He has heard so much and he sees so little, that his first exclamation is sure to be, “Can this really be Sham-al Sharif?—the much praised Damascus;

—the so-styled paradise of the East!” Yes, stranger, this is the justly celebrated Damascus; but the secret cause of your amazement lies hid as the kernel in the shell of a nut, the outer surface of which is the walls of the houses, while within lies concealed the sweet kernel. Open the street-door of rough and unpolished wood; and after carefully closing the same, as if by magic, the whole train of your thoughts and your discontentment will be diverted into another channel, and you will be struck with surprise and admiration, as the hidden beauties of the city will then burst upon your view. The same may be said with regard to the ladies of Damascus, notoriously the handsomest women in the East—Houris, whose bright eyes have afforded an endless theme for the poet’s song! Forms carefully enveloped in white and coloured izars—features muffled up and completely disguised by white veils! That man must needs be a magician who could identify even his own wife or sister from amidst the herd of ghostly figures continually flitting to and fro in the streets; though now and then some Eastern akruti (coquette), may even here be found slily contriving to allow the light of her sparkling eyes to beam through this dark screen. Here also is the same mystery, and the beauty lies concealed within the outer shell.

Now standing in a spacious quadrangle, exquisitely paved with marble, we take a hasty survey of all around us. In the centre is a square basin of clear crystal-like water, in which gold and silver fish are playfully swimming about; and in the middle of this birkat a fountain continually throws its sportive jets to return in showers of pearls upon the many pretty little flowers that are planted round the borders. An arcade, supported by elegant columns, runs round three sides; and the fourth

side of the quadrangle is occupied by the lower apartments of the house. The corna (or cornices), are all ornamented with Arabic inscriptions, both in poetry and prose, being invariably Scripture texts. [21a] In little fistakiares, or parterres, walled in with marble slabs, a few choice orange and lemon trees are carefully cultivated; and it is difficult to say whether the sweet odour of their blossoms is not rivalled, or even surpassed, by the delicious fragrance of the roses and rich Baghdad ful (or dwarf jessamine), which so thickly cluster about their roots. Of the interior of such a mansion no one could have given a better idea than did His Excellency Mahomed Pasha, [21b] the late ambassador to the court of St. James’s, who, during his residence in London, gave several balls, having some of the apartments at the Embassy, so fitted up, as exactly to resemble the interior of a house at Damascus. These rooms were the leading topic of chit chat among the fashionables of London for many weeks afterwards.

I must crave the reader’s permission to conduct him into one of these houses; and in so doing to introduce him to the mistaba, or alcove, in the centre, from the back of which two trellised windows overlook a spacious fruit garden. A low divan runs round its three sides, while a soft carpet covers the marble floor. The cushions, and even the divan itself, are of the richest velvet stuffs: and the numerous étagères in the mistaba are filled with costly glass-ware, crystal cups, and elegant porcelain vases. On each side is a tray, covered with a snowy napkin, the edges

worked with gold and silver flowers, upon one are handsome finjans in filigree, silver coffee-cups and sugar-basins; on the other, cut-glass saucers full of delicious candied sweetmeats, of which the orange-flower, violet and rose are the most fragrant. Both trays rest on low stools, the feet of which are elegantly carved. One of the adjoining rooms is fitted up with handsome narghilies, and long pipes with amber mouth-pieces of great value. In this room there is also a small mangal, or brazier, in which a charcoal fire is perpetually burning for the double purpose of boiling the often-required coffee, and of supplying the smokers with fire for their pipes, or narghilies. Servants are constantly in attendance in this room, and the arrival of a visitor is the signal for activity amongst them. Lemonade is first offered, and then smoking materials are put in requisition; after this, the sweetmeats are handed round; and lastly, coffee is served. [22]

In a Pasha’s house, when people call on official business, the appearance of coffee is a quiet hint to be off, or in other words, denotes a termination of that morning’s visit. The visitor sips his coffee, returns the finjan to the attendant slave, touches heart, mouth and head to the Pasha, and then bows himself out. The room opposite to this smoking apartment, is usually the dormitory of the servants; its outside appearance is handsome, and the closed door is tastefully carved and painted, but the interior is by no means inviting—heaps

of mattrasses are piled up on all sides, and perchance even a small store of provisions for domestic consumption. In this respect this lumber-room is quite different to the usual appearance of things in Damascus, for the outside is the best-looking part of it. So much for the interior of the houses; now let us see how the ladies look when they are within doors, and have laid aside the izar and odious black handkerchief. We will first describe the daughter of the host; a very fair specimen of her sex in Damascus. Her eyes are beautifully dark, her eyelashes, eyebrows, and hair, of a glossy jet black, the latter tinged with henna, hangs down her back and reaches nearly to the ground in a succession of plaits, each terminating with black silk braid, knotted and interwoven with various sized golden coins, her features (excepting the eyes) are all small but compact. The nose is Grecian, the lips cherry, and slightly pouting, the chin dimpled, the form of the face oval, and the complexion clear with a rosy tint. The bust and figure are unexceptionable, the arms comely, the wrists and ankles well turned, and the feet and hands perfect models for a sculptor; yet this is one out of the many nondescript beings that we encountered out of doors covered with izar and veil. Her face and figure are well set off by the head-dress and Oriental costume. On the top of her head she wears a small red cap, which is encircled by a handsomely flowered handkerchief, and over the latter strings of pearls and pieces of small gold money are tastefully arranged in festoons. In the centre of her red cap is a diamond crescent, from which hangs a long golden cord, with a blue silk tassel, usually ornamented with pearls: her vest fits tight, and admirably displays the unlaced figure. In summer, this vest is of blue or pink satin, bordered and fringed with gold

lace; in winter, cloth, edged with fur, is substituted for the satin; and over the vest is worn a short grey jacket, chastely embroidered with black silk braid. The vest is confined to the waist by a zunnar, in summer, of a silk Tripoli scarf, in winter by a costly Cashmere shawl; and from under this a long robe reaches to her ankles, and is divided into two long lappels, lined with satin, and fringed with costly trimmings. This latter robe partially conceals the shirwal, or full trowsers, which hang loosely over, and are fastened round the ankles; the tastey mixture of colors, and the graceful arrangement renders the costume a perfect study. Latterly, European shoes have been much used by the Damascene ladies, especially those gaily-flowered kid shoes, imported into Syria from Marseilles. This completes the young lady’s toilet, and her walk and action are as graceful as her figure and face are prepossessing; but beyond the naam (yes) and la (no) of conversation, you can seldom get a word from her unless you are a very intimate friend of the family, and then these young ladies are as fond of a little romping or quizzing as their more accomplished and more elegant sisters of the North. It is a mistake to imagine that the men of the Turkish empire are wholly excluded from any friendly intercourse with the women of those countries, a tale which has gained credence, and been perseveringly maintained by travellers, few of whom have ever had an opportunity of testing the truth of the report by personal experience. In fact, in my opinion, the Eastern ladies have really far more liberty than their Northern sisters, inasmuch as they are able when veiled with the izar, to go where they please. These izars being of the same form and colour, it is almost impossible to identify an individual; and a man may pass even his own wife, without recognising

her. In illustration of this, I am tempted to give the following story, for the authenticity of which I can vouch. The wife of a Mahomedan merchant, of Cairo, suspecting her husband, paid him a visit in his shop, accompanied, as is usual, by a duenna, both enveloped in the folds of their izars. During the visit, while inspecting some muslin, the lady contrived to indulge the amatory merchant with a glimpse of her large dark eyes, which completely enchanted her unconscious lord. An interview was brought about, through the agency of the old woman; and the astonished husband discovered to his dismay, in the charmer, the features of his piqued and angry helpmate.

Amongst the higher classes of Christians in particular, every freedom exists in doors; young ladies not only shew themselves, but, after serving the guest with coffee and sweetmeats, they will seat themselves on the edge of the divan, and soon manage to join in the conversation. This state of freedom exists to a greater or less degree till the young girl is betrothed; then it is not considered decorous that she should be present whenever her intended bridegroom visits the house, neither should she hear his name mentioned. Even amongst Turks, and more especially in the villages and smaller towns of Syria, the young Mahomedan sees and converses with the future object of his love, until she attains her eleventh or twelfth year, she is then excluded from the society of men; but womanhood has already begun to develop itself in the person of the girl of ten or eleven years old in these climates where they are oftentimes wives and mothers at thirteen. Hence love exists between the young couple before the destined bridegroom urges his mother to make the requisite proposals of marriage. He loses

sight of his lady-love as soon as she enters upon womanhood, though he may, by means of a third party, catch an occasional glimpse of her features as she passes to and fro, strictly guarded by matrons and old duennas; but not a single word or one bewitching kiss can the despairing lover hope for until she is brought home to his house, his lawful consort and partner for life; then, and not till then, commences the great seclusion of the ladies of the Turkish hareem. Even in country places and villages, though the newly-married bride may be strictly guarded for a year or two, this feeling eventually wears off, and the women mix in the every-day occupations of the field or in the garden, unveiled and undistinguishable from their Christian neighbours. Of late years especially much progress has been made in this branch of civilisation, arising from the example set by the sultan’s ladies themselves at Stamboul, and by the increase of European ladies at Beyrout and other towns in Syria, often travelling about the country, and who, though unveiled, enjoy a high reputation for virtue and honesty, convincing proof to the Turks, that the face, which is the mirror of the heart, was meant to be studied as an example, not as a concealed vessel of craft and guile.

But to return to Damascus. We have now taken a brief survey of the court-yards and lower portion of the houses; and having been served with sweetmeats by the pretty young lady, we follow the matron of the house up stairs, to reach which we have to cross the yard, for there is no communication between the lower and upper story, and we must pass into the arcade for the steps. Now that we have reached the upper story, there is a room on either side of the mistaba communicating with a gallery: and these rooms are the sleeping

apartments of the family in winter. In summer they serve as dressing-rooms and as a receptacle for the mattresses, etc., that are nightly spread on the top of the house for the family to sleep upon; for in summer almost every one sleeps on the terrace, from the lord and master of the house and the lowest menial down to the very cats and dogs, whose instinct causes them to seek for coolness in the more elevated parts of the house. These rooms are gaily painted, but contain little or no furniture; a divan or so, a mirror, some flower-vases, and ladies’ nic-nacs; these constitute the furniture. Mounting up to the terrace, we come upon a belvidere, surrounded on three sides by a wall lofty enough to prevent the possibility of the tallest man accidentally over-looking his neighbour’s court-yard; on the fourth side there is a wooden railing, from which we command a view of our own court-yard, catching a glimpse of some of the famed gardens of Damascus in the distance.

The bazars of the city, crowded with busy purchasers, present a bustling scene to the stranger. After Constantinople, Damascus claims precedence for the quantity and richness of the stuffs displayed for sale in its bazars from all countries in the world. Indian manufactures, spices of Arabia, coffee from Mocha, and endless European wares, are hourly bartered and sold. The scent of sandal-wood and myrrh, the attar of Mecca, the Indian’s curry ingredients, the rich drugs of the apothecary, the smoky perfumes of the scented narghili and pipe of Jabaliy tobacco; all these tend to confuse and stupify the bewildered European, who, pushing his way through the dense multitude, follows us into a native restaurant, where iced lemonade and sweetmeats are tantalisingly exposed for sale. The pleasant cold water, playing in artificial jets, turns a small tin watermill, hung with

little silver bells, whose pleasant music first attracts the attention of the busy stranger. Here, seated for a moment, we enjoy the passing scene, and are vastly refreshed by the good things around us. Among these we may notice a pleasant beverage, and one very much in request: it is made by bruising a certain quantity of raisins, on which water is poured; the liquid is afterwards strained, and ice is added to render it cool. The place is crowded with a thirsty multitude, all eager to partake of this; but the swarms of flies that alight on one’s face and hands, make quiet and repose completely out of the question; so we are up again, and hurrying through the bazars towards the environs of the city. The day is too hot and the distance too great for a walk, so we hire horses and a native cicerone.

The beauty of the environs of Damascus I can only compare to some lovely landscape of fancy’s brightest imagining, in which is combined every rich and bountiful gift of Providence—flowers, fruits, waters, hills, plains, rivers; a cloudless, blue sky; a rich, brilliant sunlight; and the delicious zephyr breathing soft freshness over the scene. It may well be believed by the zealous Mussulmans of Damascus, that Mahomed, [28] as he beheld it from the western hills, declined to enter into the city, lest the luxurious richness of this earthly Paradise might induce him to forget the existence of another and an eternal one. Skilfully did the prophet make a virtue of necessity in this instance. He well knew his incapability of besieging the city. I am inclined to think that, had it been otherwise, Mahomed was far too eager after earthly enjoyments to have relinquished so fair a spot.

Our guide fails not to point out to us two branches

of the Barrada, reckoned to be Abana and Pharpar, rivers which Naaman, the leper, thought better than the waters of Jordan. The lions to be seen at Damascus are numerous. Amongst these, we visit the Bab il Gharbi, where Tamerlane heaped up a pyramid of heads after taking the city by storm; then the monument called Nabiy Abel, marking, it is said, the identical spot where Cain slew his innocent brother. The name of the city is presumed by some to be derived from this event, the word damm signifying “blood”; but I must confess, I cannot see much ground for this presumption. If any truth be attached to this tradition, our first parents cannot well have wandered far from the lovely Garden of Eden when this first tragedy occurred; and Eden must have been situated to the west of Damascus, as it is said, that the angel of the Lord guarded the east end of the garden—a proof that our first parents were sent out eastward, and could only endeavour to return from that side. Some natives imagine that the Hammah and Hums of the present day are on the site of the beautiful garden of gardens. The eastern gate of the city, now walled up, is where St. Paul is supposed to have been let down in a basket; they shew us the very house from which he is said to have escaped. The Christian cemetery, containing the tomb of St. George, and the arch where St. Paul hid himself on escaping from Damascus; the wide road beyond the cemetery, still highly reverenced as the spot of the miraculous conversion; all these were familiar to me during my long stay in this fair city; and I mention them here for the benefit of strangers visiting the spot.

During the summer evenings, the friends, at whose house I was staying, gave frequent entertainments to their numerous acquaintances amongst the inhabitants

of Damascus. On these occasions, the ladies of the different families honoured us with their presence, and occasionally some of the European consuls and merchants were invited. A description of one evening party will describe the whole. First, then, we will introduce the stranger into the house where the farah (feast) is to be held. Women are busily occupied washing out and sweeping the court-yard; the flowers and other plants are fresh watered; the marble fountain is decorated with coloured lanterns and festoons of flowers; carpets are spread, and divan cushions ranged against the wall; the mistaba is tastefully lighted, and a highly inflammable torch, composed of the fat wood of fir, resin, and other ingredients, is planted in each of the four corners. In the smoking apartment of the mistaba, preparations are making on a grand scale. Large bags of ready-washed and prepared timbac are hung upon nails in the wall, to filter and to be fit for immediate use when the narghilies are called into requisition. Tobacco pouches are filled. Two additional mangals of charcoal fire, and some additional coffee-pots are prepared. Decanters are filled with arraki, wine, liqueurs, orange-flower, and rose-water; and the cut-glass saucers replenished with candied preserves; whilst two maid-servants and a boy, assisted and superintended by the mistress of the house, are busy grinding coffee and decocting huge bowls of deliciously-iced lemonade. In addition to all this, a side-table is groaning under the weight of plates of sliced oranges and picked pomegranates, with numerous other fruits, and a great variety of pastry. By the time all these arrangements are completed the night sets in; the whole yard is illuminated; the members of the household and the servants are busily engaged donning their best attire, and the company of hired musicians

arrive. The music striking up, is the signal for the nearest invited neighbours to make their appearance. They arrive, the men clad in long, loose silken robes; the women enveloped in their white izars; but these latter are speedily thrown aside at the invitation of the lady of the house, who assists in helping the guests to disrobe, and then confides their izars to the trusty care of the handmaiden.

Now these veils are all of the same make, and they have no initials or other distinguishing mark. Notwithstanding this, no confusion ensues on the breaking up of a party as to identification, every lady is quick to recognise her own peculiar izar from the mass of white sheets that are folded and piled one above another upon the divan in the upstairs dressing-room. Soon the whole party have arrived, and the amusements of the evening commence with vocal and instrumental music. After this, some of the gentlemen stand up and go through the graceful attitudes of the Syrian dance, then some others volunteer the sword dance, or the Bedouin dance, some of the married ladies then take courage; but it requires coaxing and threats to induce the timid damsel to display her skill. Persuasion being out of the question, some old gentleman gets up and pretends that he is going to dance instead of her, and he goes through a few steps till he comes close up to some girl that he has singled out from the circle. Seizing her arm with no very gentle force, he whirls into the centre of the yard, and meanwhile, some one who has watched the manœuvre, acts the same part by some other blushing maiden. These are confronted face to face, and there is now no escape, so they commence at first timidly and bashfully, but getting gradually excited by the music, they lose all this pretended bashfulness, and

do their best to outshine each other; and truly there is rarely a more graceful sight than two beautiful Damascene girls, elegantly dressed and bespangled with jewels, displaying their graceful figures to the best advantage, to the slow but becoming measures of the dance. All the other young ladies now follow their example, and as each couple retires at the termination of their efforts to please, they are hailed with shouts of applause, and liberally besprinkled with rose and orange-flower water. The old ladies evince their approbation by a peculiar vibrating scream, produced by the voice passing through the nearly closed lips, whilst the under lip is kept in a continual tremulous state by the rapid application of the back of the forefinger to that feature. When dancing is over for the evening, sometimes games of forfeit are introduced, and promote much mirth, especially one game called “Tuthun Tuthun, min Tuthun”—a game of Turkish origin, as its name denotes, and which is played thus:—Every one in the circle takes the name of a bird, a tree, or a flower, whilst the king of the game goes round and collects in a handkerchief some small article from each one present. These he afterwards shuffles together, and then drawing one out, which he carefully conceals in his hand, he fixes upon some one in the circle, to whom he puts the question “Tuthun Tuthun, min Tuthun?” or, “Tobacco tobacco, whose is it?” The party fixed upon is obliged to guess, and he names some bird or flower which he heard some one call himself; if the guess is wrong, he has to hold out his hand and receive three stripes from a closely knotted handkerchief, and then the party referred to is next obliged to guess to whom the “Tuthun” belongs, and so on all round the circle till the right name has been discovered. Then the king resigns his post and

handkerchief, and is relieved in office by him or her that made the right guess.

After these games some one tells a story or recites a poem, a specimen of which I am enabled to introduce, literally translated.

I’ve gazed on many eyes, that shine
As bright; none ever yet so well
Have answered to my heart as thine,
My lovely, little, dear gazelle.

Oh give me but one smile, to tell
Of pity from those gentle eyes:
The thought shall ever with me dwell,
My love you did not all despise.

You move in beauty, while each charm
Subdues the more my amorous soul,
Until my fainting spirits warm
To strength beneath thy sweet control.

Hear then my prayer, to you alone
I bow—Let those who know me not,
Mock, if they will, at pangs unknown:
Your smile, though false, is ne’er forgot.

Mine eyes have often wearied long
To catch thine image passing by;
My saddened spirit grew more strong,
With thee one moment in mine eye.

But oh, if love should ever seek
Its seat within that beauteous breast,
Drive it afar; you see it wreak
On me its power to poison rest.

For bound beneath thy beauty’s sway,
My days in wasting sadness roll;
Though deaf to all, this dust can say,
You’ll meet in heaven, my parted soul.

Deign but my fevered heart to cool,
With but one passing word of hope,
Then shall my tortured spirit school
Itself, with all beside to cope.

But thought is useless, words are vain;
And my bewildered mind can fling
No effort from this maddening brain,
That can to thee its image bring.

For disappointed and beguiled,
I will not spend another sigh;
If you had never on me smiled,
No tear had ever dimmed mine eye.

I will now endeavour to give my readers a specimen of an original Arabic tale in the familiar and colloquial style of these Oriental storytellers so famed for their amusing delivery and gesticulation.