Arrived at Homs, we have—
"Fish for dinner, from the Lake of Kades, whose blue waters we saw in the distance to-day. The Lebanon opens behind that lake, and you may pass to the sea, on the plain, without a hill. This plain, but rarely visited, is among the most interesting portions of Syria, containing numerous convents, castles, and ruins, and its people are still but little known. Maszyad, the principal seat of the sect called Ismayly: the Ansayrii also, and Koords, besides Turks, Christians, and gipsys, may be found among its varied population. The ancient castle of El Hoshn, supposed, by the lions over its gates, to have been built by the Count of Thoulouse, is well worth a visit. The Orontes, taking its rise in a rock, from whence it gushes just west of the Tel of Khroumee,—(true bearing from Homs from south 60° 32' east,)—flows through the Lake of Kades, and passes about 2° to the west of Homs: it is called Nahr El Aazzy, or "the rebel river," some say because of its running north, while all the other rivers run south; more probably, however, on account of its rapidity and strength of current. It is an historical stream; on its banks were altars, and the country it waters is almost unmatched for beauty—
'Oh, sacred stream! whose dust
Is the fragments of the altars of idolatry.'"
It was at Homs—the ancient Emessa—that Zenobia was brought as a captive into the presence of Aurelian.
"Why did she not there fall? why add the remaining lustreless years to her else glorious life? why, in the words of Gibbon, sink insensibly into the Roman matron? Zenobia fat, dowdy, and contented—profanation! Zimmerman, however, invests the close of her career with graceful philosophy: at Tivoli, in happy tranquillity, she fed the greatness of her soul with the noble images of Homer, and the exalted precepts of Plato; supported the adversity of her fortunes with fortitude and resignation, and learnt that the anxieties attendant on ambition are happily exchanged for the enjoyments of ease and the comforts of philosophy."
From Homs we reach Aleppo in four days.
"It was a spring morning, and a gentle keenness, wafted from snow-clad mountains, rendered the climate delightful. The town lay beneath me, and each terrace, court, serai, and leewan lay open to my view. I saw Aleppo was built in a hollow, from which ran plains north and west, surrounded by mountains. To the north, Djebel Ma Hash and his range, untouched by the soft smiles of the young spring, lay deep in the snow; the flat connected grass-grown roofs and well-watered sparkling courts, with their carefully-tended trees, relieving the glare of the houses, while all around the town lay belted in its garden. The scene was pretty and pleasing; here and there the forests of tomb-stones, the perfect minaret, the Eastern dome swelling up from the mob of flat roofs,—these formed a sight that told I was in the East, in the cradle of mankind—the home of history."...
"And here, though sorely pressed for time, we must stop for a picnic, which E—— and myself were told it would be right to give. We provided carpets, nargillehs, horse-loads of sundries, cushions, a cargo of lettuces; and thus equipped, we sallied out, a very numerous party. The first thing to select was a garden, a point on which our own choice, and not the owner's will, seemed alone to be consulted. Let not the reader fancy an Eastern garden is what a warm Western fancy would paint it—wild with luxuriant but weedless verdure, heavy with the scent of roses and jessamine, thrilling with the songs of the bulbul and the nightingale, where fair women with plaited tresses touch the soulful lute in graceful attitudes. No; it is a piece of ground enclosed by high walls, varying in size. A wretched gate, invariably badly made, probably ruined, admits you to the interior. Some enclose a house with two or three rooms—windowless, white-washed places. Before this is a reservoir of dirty, stagnant water, turned up from a neighbouring well by an apparatus as rude as it is ungainly and laborious: this is used to irrigate the ground, which therefore is alternately mud and dust. Fruit trees or mulberries are planted in rows, and the ground beneath, being ploughed up, is productive of vegetables or corn. One or two trees, for ornament, may be planted in the first row, but nothing more; and weeds, uncut, undestroyed, spring up in every direction. Such, without exaggeration, is the Bistan zareff quiess!—the Lovely Garden.
"We selected one that belonged to the Mollah. Oh, true believer! in thy pot we boiled a ham; on thy divan we ate the forbidden beast; thy gardener, for base reward, assisting to cook—who knows, but also to eat the same? We chose a spot shaded by a noble walnut tree, and spread carpets and cushions. Fire was lighted, nargillehs bubbled, and kief began."
On the 2d of May we start for the Euphrates, and follow for some time nearly the route recommended by Colonel Chesney for the great Indian railway to Bussora, on the Persian Gulph. The distance is little more than 800 miles—scarcely thirty steam-winged hours—the level surpassingly uniform. Truly those who desire to find either solitude, or what our author calls kief, in the East, must repair thither quickly, for the iron of the engineer has already entered into its soul. Already the blue and white rivers of the Nile are more easily attainable than were the Tiber and the Po to our grandfathers. Beyrout and Latakia will soon be fashionable watering-places; Baalbec as well known as Melrose Abbey; and the excavated ruins of Nimroud will come under the range of "return tickets." The grim Arab will look out from any quiet spot that the all-searching Cockney may have spared him; and he will gaze with wonder on the awful processions of the "devil-goaded" tourists, as they rush with magic speed across his wilderness—only to retrace their steps. The Turk, at the utmost bounds of the Othman Empire, will marvel at this new freak of kismet (destiny;) with a sigh he will abandon his beloved bockra (the "to-morrow" in which he loves to live;) and commending himself to Islam, or resignation in its most trying form, he will "jump in" like the mere Giaours, and be hurled along with the rest across the desert behind the Afreet stoker.
But at present the wilderness knows nothing of all this, and we have before us the scenery of other days as Abram beheld it. We now cross the Chalus River, and enter upon a series of vast plains, varied by mysterious tels or mounds, rising up from the level surface like bubbles on a pool. On, or among these, the ever restless Turkomans pitch their tents, and welcome the traveller kindly to their wandering homes. On the third day from Aleppo we reach Aintab, on the river Sadschur, "which, fresh and young, danced brightly on, as if eager to join the Euphrates and see the wide world beyond."
"At Aintab, among other visitors was Doctor Smith, an American missionary. He was a well-bred, sensible man, a clever linguist, and, from all I ever heard, an earnest and zealous servant of his heavenly Master. His mission already shows results which must indeed be a source of peace to his heart, and proves that some are allowed even in this world to reap the fruits of their toil for the Lord. In that very town, whence a few years ago he was insulted and abused, a faithful flock now join in humble prayers to God; and surely they pray for him, the instrument of their salvation. I was much pleased at the plain unexaggerating way in which he told the history of his mission.... The good work has progressed, and he now has from one hundred and fifty to three hundred pupils in his school, many the children of non-converted parents. And in this year's enrolment—great glory to our ambassador at Constantinople!—the Protestants are enrolled as a separate religious community: the males are two hundred and odd here.
"All sects recognised by the Porte are enrolled separately, as their taxes, &c., are apportioned by their own heads (chiefs.)"
Many of the Armenians here have been converted to the Church of England, and this has proved to be a most advantageous change for their women.