The poor Protestants have not always been in such satisfactory circumstances. Their principal man had narratives to relate of chains and imprisonment endured in past times from the present Ameer, whose policy was now in their favour.
Next morning we left Hhasbeya, and I have not been there since. Little could it be foreseen that in five years afterwards one indiscriminate butchery would be made of the Ameer and his son, notwithstanding their high descent of family and profession of Islam, together with all the Christians of whatever sect in the town, driven like sheep within the walls of his palace—a deed of treachery unexampled even in that period of bloody Turkish
treachery. Since then my lady companions are both in their graves, the one at Jerusalem, the other at Bayroot, let me rather say in “a better country,” while I am left alone to narrate this in the distant security of England.
On our way towards Banias we met a party of Druses returning from a small lake beyond Hhooleh, carrying leeches in earthen jars and cotton bags upon asses, they themselves walking. A green hill on our right was said to be frequented by wild boars—all the rest of our scenery was bare and stony.
A weli was a conspicuous object at some distance to the south, and near to the Lake Hhooleh, which the Moslems name after “Judah the son of Jacob.” One of the Hhasbeya Protestants, who was with us, quoted in his native Arabic “The sceptre shall not depart from Judah,” etc.
At Tell el Kâdi we reposed beneath the great tree near the gush of its branch of the Jordan, the same tree (evergreen oak) as afforded us shelter in 1849. Both this spring of the river and that of Banias are far more striking objects than the humble source of the Hhasbâni, into which stream they run as affluents, making up the Jordan.
It was a beautiful evening of mellow sunlight, and the scene most peaceful at the foot of Hermon.
On nearing Banias we were met by the son of the shaikh of the village, sent out to invite us. It was harvest time of the Simsim, (Sesamé,) and the produce was very abundant; sheaves of it were
piled up into large stacks, and the length of the plant in stalk exceeded all I had ever seen before,—a natural effect of growing on these well-watered plains.
There were also my old friends the myrtles scattered about among the other trees.