The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon

by Habeeb Risk Allah

Whilst at Bicton, I heard a very amusing anecdote about an Eastern princess, who it appears had come there on a visit from London, and was much noticed by the nobility. This lady was very fond of vegetables and fruit, and in order the more freely to gratify her appetite, she used to rise early and go into the garden, and amongst other delicacies, she never spared the

young onions, of which she was exceedingly fond. The gardener could not account for the depredations committed on his potager till accident led him to discover the mystery. One day he locked the gate before the princess returned from her morning walk, and consequently she remained there some considerable time, and had to breakfast and dine off her favourite vegetables. At length, after a long search, the gardener heard her crying out, and accordingly released her.

One day during this agreeable visit was devoted to a drive to Exeter to see the cathedral, gaol, and hospital, with which I was much interested. I must here bestow a passing note of admiration on her ladyship’s “turnout,” which conveyed us to the town: suffice it to say that it was appointed in the best English style, and with four fine horses of imposing stature, with their gay silver trappings and postillions, made an excellent coup d’œil. With the architecture of the cathedral I was particularly struck, on account of its resemblance to the old churches in Syria. I much admired the small paintings in fresco underneath the organ, which I was told had only recently been discovered, and these were very similar to those in our churches throughout my country, and which may be seen at the present day. After having inspected the cathedral, I visited the gaol, which pleased me from being kept so scrupulously clean; and I highly approved of the regulations and rules which were laid down and enforced. But one circumstance in particular pained me very much, that was to find a child only eight years of age imprisoned for arson. I was told that he was much happier in gaol than at home. Before leaving I visited the female department, which was equally clean and well arranged, and all the women were usefully occupied. Upon enquiring of the

governor of the gaol whether the female prisoners gave him much trouble, his answer was, “I would rather have to do with a dozen men than one woman.” This speech rather startled me, and, as it was time to return to Bicton, I left Exeter, having been highly gratified and pleased with my visit. During my stay in the neighbourhood, as we proceeded though the village, many and very amusing conjectures were made concerning my country and station. By some I was considered no less a personage than a Persian prince; others deemed me a Turkish Pasha, whilst many even exalted me so high as to be somewhat of more importance—an Indian Rajah. Soon after, I bade adieu to Bicton, but not without deep regret and sorrow at leaving our amiable and hospitable friend and her assembled guests.

From Bicton I proceeded to Bath. It was about mid-day when I started; the weather was lovely, and forcibly brought to my mind the contrast between the murky and ungenial atmosphere which pervaded London when I left it, and the bright clear air of this favoured portion of England. Could my readers, who spend so much of their time in the metropolis, have felt as I did on this morning, when the sweet breeze, wafting the odours of the fresh-turned earth, seemed to breathe health upon the cheek, and purity and peace into the heart, they could never again declare that the country possessed no charms. Contemplate but the rising of day’s bright luminary, which in the west of England is especially glorious, making its appearance as it does from behind lofty and undulating lines of hills, overlooking the loveliest of valleys, which must in spring present more the appearance of a Syrian glen than anything I have hitherto seen. The verdant moss,

the delicate white violet, and the modest primrose, which hid their loveliness beneath a variety of trees, and amongst them the first that puts forth its blossoms is the sallow, whose yellow downy buds emit a honeyed odour, all combine to constitute this beautiful part of England a very Garden of Eden in which an humble mind might dwell for ever.

The impression produced on my mind by these scenes, was very similar to that which so painfully affects the Swiss, when in a foreign country he is reminded of his wild and mountainous home. I felt all the sensations of the indescribable “mal de pays.”

But I must proceed on my journey. I entered the railway carriage, and quick as lightning sped from all those who had shewn me so much kindness and attention, and to whom I shall often travel back in thought to dwell with grateful satisfaction and delight on this happy period of my life. Should any of my readers, who have not yet visited Bath, have occasion hereafter to do so, they will not fail, as I was, to be struck with the picturesque appearance which meets the eye just before arriving at this beautiful city; the numerous pretty meadows—the spires of churches rising here and there to remind the beholder that he is in a Christian country—richly cultivated pleasure grounds surrounding neat villas—the village inn and its busy scene—carriages, omnibuses, and vehicles of every description, travelling in all directions, giving to this fair city of the west a miniature resemblance to the mighty metropolis in a far more agreeable sense.

But now the engine begins to slacken its pace; the shrill whistle sounds, and the heavy train, though seeming to grow tired yet reluctant to rest, arrives at the terminus. All now is hurry and bustle; friends, parents,

assistants, are on the platform, eager to welcome or render their aid, as the case may be, yet provokingly kept back by the railings, which are pertinaciously kept for a while closed. At last all are free; and Bath, that elegant city, with its beautiful surrounding hills, and dazzling white houses, and decorated architectural public buildings, now bursts upon the view; the smoke curling upwards towards the clear atmosphere, dispersing ere it reaches the azure sky. The mildness of the climate surprised me, and particularly the warm mineral springs. There is an idea prevalent in Syria, that England being an island, there are no springs, that all the streams are brackish, and that the inhabitants are supplied with drinking-water from the clouds. On my first arrival in this country, seeing wine so plentiful and water so scarce at meals, I was inclined to believe that the supposition was a true one.