Night came on and shrouded everything around us in blackness; there was an extra touch of darkness to it as there was no moon and there were thick clouds between us and the stars. We could see little more than what was revealed by our lamps and that little soon became monotonous. We crossed the plain of Dinas and entered the gorge of the Abana, the river which is the pride of Damascus, and has always occupied a prominent place in her history.
“Are not Pharpar and Abana,” said Naaman, the leper, “rivers of Damascus better than all the rivers of Syria?”
Following the Abana we at length beheld the lights of Damascus, and at nine o’clock entered the city and were deposited at the door of the only hotel it contains.
