stone, once, doubtless, the highway from Cesarea Philippi to Damascus. At Sassa the country began to wear a different and more inviting aspect. This was a singular-looking place. Four walls, of considerable height and in tolerably good preservation, with octagonal towers at the corners, formed a perfect square, and seemed to indicate a town of some importance; but going a short distance through the principal gateway, we found only poor hovels and a wretched-looking population. Close by, however, flowed an abundant and rapid stream, and spread itself through an extensive fertile plain, upon which we now entered. Cultivated fields and groves of olive-trees soon gave evidence that we were approaching a rich and well-peopled region. The position of Damascus was pointed out, but for a long time we could see in the distance a mass of trees only, like a dense forest, with a slender minaret here and there overtopping them. As we drew nigh the seeming forest, we found it to be a wide belt of magnificent gardens, by which this famous city of the East is encircled. For an hour we rode through continuous lanes, or avenues rather, as their width might entitle them to be called, bordered by rude walls, built of large square blocks of mud, of the colour of unburnt brick. But within these enclosures were countiess numbers of the most beautiful and majestic trees we had ever seen-the olive, the almond, the walnut, and apri

cots of immense size. Frequent brooks, too, ran by our side or crossed the path, affording an abundant supply of water to nourish this mass of deep and perpetual verdure. So magnificent a setting seemed to promise, that encircled within we should find the pearl of cities. But when at last we arrived at the gate, we were greatly disappointed. It was mean-looking and ruinous. The houses, to outward appearance, were built only with a rough coat of cream-coloured mud or clay, and the streets were narrow and dirty. Through these we rode for a weary distance, and at last came to the quarter where the principal bazaars are situated. Here are narrow crooked streets, for the most part covered with awnings to protect them from the sun, and bordered on both sides by small shops. Upon a raised bench in front sits the owner, crosslegged, within reach of his wares, calmly smoking his pipe and waiting for customers. It was here, as in Cairo, a constant source of wonder to us, how the business and intercourse of so large a population could be carried on in such narrow thoroughfares. They are not more than from eight to ten feet wide, some of them less. Even of this space the low platforms in front of the shops take up a considerable portion; and yet horses, donkeys, loaded camels, and a constant crowd of men and women, seem to get along without interference with each other, or with such as are standing at the shops

RIDING THROUGH THE STREETS.

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chaffering for goods. We rode through in single file, the way seeming to be perfectly blocked up at every step; yet we were never stopped, although our legs and the flanks of our horses were in constant contact with the multitudes through whom we brushed our way. Nor, in this crowd of the most bigoted of Mohammedan cities, were we once insulted, or even uncomfortably stared at. On the contrary, on one occasion, when by reason of the crowd I had for a moment lost sight of my companions, and was about to take a wrong direction, two or three turbaned men began to speak to me earnestly, and seeing that I did not understand, one of them took my horse's head and kindly turned him into the right way, with a motion to me to hasten on. In this respect the manners of the people are greatly changed. Not many years. ago, one dressed in the Frank costume could hardly escape being pelted in the streets; and at the gates of the city such travellers were obliged to dismount and walk. Now I am confident that a Turk, or any one in an unusual dress, would be more stared at and spoken of in the streets of New York in one hour, than we were during the whole of our sojourn in Cairo and Damascus; and I am constrained to believe that a Mussulman mob would prove to be better mannered and more tolerant than a mob of Christians in any of our large cities.

We stopped near a mud-plastered wall, which,

328

STYLE OF BUILDING.

like most of the buildings in Damascus, was what one of our English friends humorously described as "wattle and dab." It was pierced for two or three small grated windows, and a low, narrow doorway, little more imposing in appearance than that of a common hovel. This was uninviting enough. We dismounted, however, as we were told by the dragoman that this was our hotel! The door was open, and the host, having had intimation of our approach, was ready to receive us, and saluted us in Italian, being quite accustomed to travellers, as he had once been himself a courier and dragoman. He had just set up this establishment as an experiment. We followed him through the entrance, which barely admitted one at a time. Within was a narrow, gloomy passage, with a descent of several steps, as though it led to a damp, dirty cellar. We had scarcely time, however, to be sensible of the chill and repulsion that such a reception would naturally produce. But instead of some gloomy, muddy court-yard, we came at once upon a large, cheerful area, flagged with white marble; in the centre a marble basin filled with water, and a small fountain playing within it. Overhanging this, with their branches drooping in the water, were several lemon and orange trees in full blossom. The area was surrounded, on three sides, by a wellbuilt house of stone, of Moorish architecture, with a flight of marble steps leading up to a terrace.

ORIENTAL LUXURY.

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On the fourth side, and covering a high wall, was a superb grape vine, mingled with monthly roses and other fragrant creepers of white and yellow flowers.

We had come from narrow streets, shut out from the sun. Here he shone upon us in his splendour, and his rays, reflected from the marble all around, would have been too dazzling bright, had not the eye been relieved by the grateful contrast of those green, burnished leaves of the lemon and orange. The perfumed air, the murmuring fountain, the welcome song of birds, and the complete seclusion: what a promise was here of luxurious repose to weary travellers, just dismounted after a long and toilsome journey! But when we were ushered into our apartment, all our imaginings of the luxury of Oriental life were left far behind. On one side of the area opened a wide doorway of marble, with lofty latticed windows on each side. One step led us up into a spacious vaulted room, with its walls and ceiling incrusted in mosaic, with marbles of various colour, glass, and mother-of-pearl. In the centre was an octagonal marble reservoir, about two feet high, and three or four in diameter, and here another small fountain was playing and throwing up the water like diamond drops. Upon opposite sides were spacious recesses, raised two feet above the marble tiling of the floor. Behind a thin drapery of muslin drawn in front of these