LEBANON IN THE SUMMER OF 1841.

THE pinguid tameness of the Delta of the Nile, and the rock and sand of the Libyan desert, had given me an insatiable thirst for mountain scenery. Lebanon, if not the land of brown heath and shaggy wood, is certainly the land of the mountain and the flood; so without more ado, I sent my baggage on board the Lively packet, and bade adieu to Pompey's Pillar, Cleopatra's Needle, and Waghorn's Oriental Hotel. As I prepared to ride down to the quay, a crowd of broken-winded and broken-kneed donkeys were driven up, whose owners yied with each other for my patronage.

"Ride my donkey, sir; there's a beauty, sir; go along like one d-d fine steamer."

Well, the Alexandrian school of rhetoric is not extinct. Here is puff No. 1, Class A. I ask the gentle reader if the combined eloquence of Mr. Robins and Mr. Tattersall could go beyond this?

I got on board the Lively as she was weighing anchor, and we slowly stood out to sea. Out of sight of land, I had no resource but the society of Lieutenant Grog, an officer of the old school, who thought that a warm heart and a warm stomach were identical. He washed away the bad humours with plenty of Hodgson's pale ale, and then washed away the ale with plenty of brandy-and-water.

"Bless my soul and body," said he to me; "what a pleasant thing it would be if we could warm our coppers without having to cool them again !"

And sure enough wherever the said coppers were situated, they had, by some chemical process, communicated all their colour to his coun

tenance.

Two days' easy sail brought us to Mount and Cape Carmel, which the lieutenant, who had obligingly undertaken to refresh my geographical reminiscences, designated with great solemnity of manner, as the "Flamborough Head of the Holy Land." A fresh breeze springing up, we scudded across the bay to St. Jean d'Acre.

"You see them brown walls with the thickly-strewn black spots. Every time I pass this spot, I think of old England."

"Yes," said I, musingly, as visions of naval glory floated before

me.

"Not the roast beef of old England," rejoined the lieutenant, "but the plum-pudding; and that dome at the top stands for all the world like a sprinkling of sauce."

To describe the eloquence of my cicerone on passing Tyre and Sidon, is a task I must defer to another opportunity; suffice it to say, that I disembarked at Beyrout.

I detest Beyrout as a residence-it is one of the most klein stadtisch places in the Levant; give me the gay drama of European life, or plunge me for a while in a vast and sombre eastern capital. But then what a field for a painter? Why do not our artists come hither in crowds? Italian landscape is almost overdone. I easily perceive that Lingelback, who was not much of a draughtsman, acquired his reputation from the intrinsic brilliancy of his Levantine subjects. The

Marina here is worth a Jew's-eye to an artist. A straggling apology for a quay, composed of broken shafts and capitals of the ancient Bergetus, the battered and shattered Turkish Castle which once was connected with the land by a causeway. As the sun sets, you have the golden seas of Claude, and the grand mountain sweeps that Gaspar Poussin loved to paint. Then what a variety of character and costumes. The slovenly Turkish sentinel, and the pistoled and petticoated Albanian, the mountain muleteer with his caravan, and the tidy English man-of-war's boat's crew. And for interiors, oh for an Ostade or a Teniers to portray the cavern-like Greek wine-shop, with its disorderly inmates en pleine ribotte, or a De Hooge for the retired courtyard of a Levantine family, where the sunlight plays fiercely on the mosaic pavement, and softly rebounds to the furthest recess of the alcove which forms the charm of the Syrian houses.

I started from Beyrout, and began slowly to ascend the ridges of Lebanon. I was mounted on a horse of the country, and followed by a baggage-mule, both somewhat indifferent to the stimulus of whip and spur; so finding the so-called road to be the bed of a torrent, Allah Kerim! I resigned myself to their pace. After some hours continual ascent, we reached a wretched châlet, dignified by the name of a Khan. Three men, who proved to be Georgian Turks, were sitting in front, and asked alms of me. They were Hadgis, who had come all the way from Dughistan, through Armenia to Aleppo without accident; but between this latter city and Damascus, they had not been so fortunate, and one of them taking off his turban, showed me a fresh sabre-cut across the head, which he had received in the vicinity of Horus, where they were plundered. They were on their way to Beyrout, expecting assistance from the Russian Consul, and the trifling quantity I gave them procured for me an abundance of salaams and benedictions. Horus and Hamah were always ticklish districts, even under the iron rule of Ibrahim Pasha; and it was only by means of strong detachments of African Bedouins that the road between Damascus and Aleppo was kept

open.

My muleteer was a Druse; I asked him if he was an akkal (wise man), or a djahil (ignorant). He confessed being the latter, but hoped soon to pass from the state of an uninitiated to that of an initiated Druse; and feeling a desire to see more of this singular people, I accepted his proposal, that we should pass the night at his own village, which was two hours off the regular road. We turned to the right, always ascending, and on reaching the summit of a pass, we saw a stupendous avenue of precipices, forming a valley that lay at our feet; and the difficulty of subjugating such a people as this became at once evident.

When I saw the descent that was to be made before crossing the valley, I immediately jumped from my horse, and determined to be the last to scramble down. Much as I had seen and heard of sure-footed mules, no tour de force of the most distinguished pupil of Ducrow or Franconi, seemed more extraordinary than the manner in which my horse and mule effected their descent; they looked, paused, felt stone after stone, resolved and re-resolved at every step. My poor Rosinante was, according to the slang of the house, evidently thinking on his legs, and as for the mule, I expected every moment to see him tumble heels

over head. On reaching the bottom of the valley, I found the rocks to fill up two-thirds of the perpendicular; the grumbling of a primitivelooking mill, added to the wildness of the scene; and had I not known that security for Franks exists throughout Mount Lebanon, I should have fortified my courage by keeping my pistols on half-cock. Then came the ascent which was very steep, but tolerably smooth; intersecting terraces carefully formed for the vine and mulberry, by a species of escarpment, easily available for defence in case of attack. As the Druses drink no wine, the vines are cultivated for the sake of the raisin, which in Lebanon is very good.

On reaching the piece of table-land on which the village was situated, the flaneurs turned out en masse, and followed me to the house of the muleteer, which seemed to be one of the best in the place. Like all the others, it was built of square trapstone, without mortar, plastered inside with mud. On entering, I found it to be remarkably clean, with nothing to offend any of the senses. The inner apartment was laid with mats, and carpets of coarse gray hair-cloth; but one article of furniture caught my eye which might have belonged to a house of higher pretensions. This was a baby's cradle, elaborately inlaid with mother-o'-pearl.* In the middle of the apartment was the fireplace, which consisted of a block of stone about fifteen inches high, very curiously chiselled, with two niches in the side, and being cut smooth on the top, if occasion required, three or four goblets or stewpans could be placed on it, while the front is available for roasting. This is a very economical method of providing fire, as a trifling addition of fuel is necessary when the stone is once heated.

When my mule was unloaded, and my host had placed my carpet at the upper end of the apartment, I held a sort of levée of the villagers; for as soon as they heard that I was an Englishman, the room was filled with the Akkals sitting next me, and the Djahils keeping at a respectful distance. I soon found that the idea that all Europeans know something of the healing art, was prevalent in the company. One old man had an eye very much inflamed, and it required no depth of skill to tell him that he ought to keep it as much as possible out of the sun. The turban is certainly an excellent covering for the head in hot climates, and preservative against strokes of the sun. How many European lives are sacrificed to a disregard of what the practical experience of ages points out as the territorial division of costume. Next to the covering of the head, the covering of the body, with the ample folds of an oriental sash, is conducive to health.

To every traveller in Egypt and Syria, we would say, "gird up thy loins," which being interpreted is, "preserve yourself from fever and dysentery." The turban, however, is incomplete, for it leaves the eyes too unprotected. The prevalence of ophthalmia in these countries, although attributable to exposure to night air, to the fine sand of Egypt and the chalky dust of Syria, must be very much increased by the insufficiency of the turban to protect the eyes from the rays of the sun

There is a long covered bazaar in Damascus almost exclusively devoted to the manufacture of three articles, which every bride brings with her; these are the said cradles; high-bridge pattens similarly inlaid, and linen chests, which are very curiously carved, and resemble those made in Holland about a century ago.

The broad-brimmed, flat, black turban of the Jews seems to be the best covering of the head in use in Syria.

But to return from this digression to my levee: I found myself compelled to feel the pulses, and pass in review the tongues of about twenty people. This farce I went through with the greatest gravity imaginable, and then a general conversation ensued. I was overwhelmed with questions about England, and my host pointed to a couple of muskets hanging from the wall, evidently of the Brummagem stereotype.

Ma fee ferdeh-el yom," "No poll-taxes now," and "Long life to the English," resounded through the apartment.

Desirous of seeing something of the neighbourhood before sunset, I adjourned the sitting, aad proceeded through the mulberries to one of the precipices I have above described. On the lip of the yawning chasm was an immense boulderstone, which seemed ready, with the slightest impetus, to thunder to the bottom. But what was my surprise on seeing several of the lads jump upon it; with a laugh they set it in motion, and I saw, for the first time in my life, a rocking

stone.

The sight of a Frank in this secluded spot was, I perceived, sufficient to interest the females in the neighbouring cottages, and the roofs of the nearer houses were covered with women and children. Most of the young people had an open expression of countenance; one, however, who approached and spoke a little broken Turkish, was tall, sunburnt, and had acquired a cunning expression. This young gentleman had been drawn as a conscript, and served in the army in Egypt, and subsequently at Marash, under Ibrahim Pasha. On entering the mountains, I seemed to have left behind me Levantine trickery; but this fellow, from his sinister remarks and sly winking inquisitiveness, showed that his camp-training had made him the blackguard of the village.

I then returned to the house of the muleteer, where I found a calf standing at the door, and my powers as a hakim were again in requisition. With the utmost gravity the mouth of the animal was opened, and his forefoot lifted up. What was the matter with the poor beast I could not tell. I was, however, greatly amused on finding that the elevation of the foot was to enable me to feel his pulse. I was, however, compelled to admit my ignorance of the art, science, and mystery of cow-doctoring.

My host gave me for dinner a pillaff, a broiled chicken, raisins, and coffee. After sunset the room was again thronged with villagers, and I renewed acquaintance with the Akkals. I was asked if there were any Akkals in England?

66

Yes, many," said I. "Have you any Djahils?" "Yes, by far too many."

Being in a humour for a joke, I said that we had three sorts: those who were wise, those who were not very wise, and those who were ignorant. On hearing this, silence was imposed on all the rest of the company.

"A Druse! a Druse !" said several; and on further inquiry, I found the report that the Druses conceive some resemblance to exist between the religion of England and their own, to be by no means fabulous. One old Akkal here whispered to me, that when the Djahils went away, we should have a great deal of conversation; and asked if

I had any books, on which I pulled out a worthless guide to the Levant, looking as gay as cloth and gilt-letters could make it. He kissed it reverently, but of course could make nothing of its contents. It was handed round and kissed by others. However, as I was apprehensive of getting into some scrape, I told them I was no Druse, but that the English were great friends of the Druses."

66

Yes, yes, you are a Druse," said one man who rose up, and put his two forefingers together, which in the East is the sign of alliance and friendship; adding in an under tone, "Do you English drink of the dog?"

He was checked hastily by an old man, who said,

"Don't you hear that he is not a Druse. Why do you speak so unguardedly?"

The words made use of, as far as my ears could catch, were yeshrub el kelb, but they might have been yeshrub el kulb, which means "drink of the heart." I, however, can give no explanation of what was meant by this question.

The night was pretty well advanced when we separated, and I could with difficulty resist their entreaties that I should stay some days among them; several of the elders having promised to entertain me in their best manner.

On the following day I descended to the Bekaa, or Cælo Syria, which lies between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon. These mountains appear to have been by some organic process washed bare and their soil deposited in the plain; nothing so bare, red, and inhospitable, as the appearance of these ranges from the Bekaa, and nothing more naturally fertile than the Bekaa when viewed from Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, stretching far and wide, a little Lombardy, of which Tyre was probably the Venice. But this great alluvial valley which formerly teemed with population, is in many places almost as deserted as the Campagna of Rome. The miserable villages still visible are few and far between, while extensive districts, which by mere scraping of the earth, and directing over it the numerous brooks that flow from the hills, might produce excellent wheat, are abandoned to the goatherd. If ever European colonists settle in Syria, I should think the Bekaa the most eligible situation, as it is much more protected from Arabs, and much nearer the sea than the Hauran, and if cultivated, much healthier than the coast districts.

Malaka stands on the brow of one of the hills of Lebanon. It was here that Ibrahim Pasha retired after being defeated in the hills by Commodore Napier, and awaited the reinforcements which Ahmed Menikli Pasha brought from the north. A few pleasant gardens have been laid out at Malaka, on the very edge of the Bekaa, just sufficient to show what a sea of vegetation it might become, were security for property to exist, and were there hands to distribute the water over the plain. The change from the oppressive monotony of the plain to the mountain air and scenery of the valley was most agreeable.

Leaving to our right Malaka, in which the plague was raging, half an hour of continual ascent brought us to Zahle, which is rather romantically situated on the edge of a deep ravine, at the bottom of which is a stream shaded by the ash and the poplar. There is some good pasture-land around the town. The soil of some of the hills to