twelve to fifteen thousand fighting men. Both
men and women are divided into Akkals, or
those who are initiated into the mysteries of
their creed, and Djahils, or uninitiated. They
consider themselves a people set apart and chosen
by God. In muscular vigour, good looks, and
endurance of fatigue, they surpass every other
Asiatic race. When in the towns of Syria, they
often conform outwardly to Mahometanism, and
in their own mountains, if asked by a stranger to
show their religious books, always produce a
copy of the Koran. It is, however, well known
that they have religious works peculiar to their
own sect, which they guard with peculiar jealousy
in their haloué, or temples. They have no
regular priesthood, the Akkals, or initiated,
being the only persons who at all differ from
their brethren in religious matters. The distinction
between Akkal and Djahil, or initiated and
uninitiated, has nothing whatever to do with the
rank or wealth of the individual, nor is the rank
hereditary. The son of an Akkal is a Djahil,
unless he may wish to become an Akkal, and can
give proof that he merits the distinction. The
Djahils eat, drink, and wear what they like; the
Akkals must not smoke, nor use coffee, wine, or
spirits. The latter are always known by a peculiar
round white turban, and by an abay (cloak)
of black and white stripes. Strange to say, the
Druses of Lebanon believe that there are many
of their sect in China, and also in the mountains
of Scotland. They have amongst them signs by
which they can recognise each other, and they
hold secrecy in all that concerns their sect to be
the greatest virtue possible. They have a great
respect for the English nation, but a dislike to
the Turks. In the Sultan's army they will not
serve on any account, but I have often been
asked during the Indian mutiny whether the
Queen of England would raise a regiment of
Druses to fight in the far-off East. I am confident
that English officers, who could speak Arabic,
would be able to raise three thousand Druse
soldiers in Lebanon within the space of a month.

Shortly after leaving Btedin, we arrived at the
tableland, of Sumkaneea. Here there is a large
spring of excellent water, and ample space on
which many thousand men could assemble. It is
there that the Druse chiefs of the mountain meet
when they have anything of great importance to
discuss. At this fountain we sat down to discuss
a luncheon we had brought with us, and were at
the stage of pipes and coffee, when a cavalcade
of about forty Druse horsemen made its appearance.
At its head were the nephew and son-in-
law of Syud Bey Jumblat, the Chief of Moktura,
who, having heard the day before that two
Englishmen intended paying him a visit, had sent out
his relatives to bid us welcome. After the usual
compliments, we mounted and accompanied our
hosts. So long as we remained on the tableland,
the followers continued chasing each other on
horseback, firing blank cartridge from their
pistols and carbines, and otherwise creating both a
dust and a disturbance. When the path became
so narrow that all were obliged to follow in
Indian file, we saw Moktura on the opposite side
of the valley. The house is like a great baronial
castle, surrounded by remarkably large olive-
trees, planted some distance apart. These seen
together with the undulations of the land and
the extent of green sward, give the whole
property the appearance of an English park placed
in a Highland glen. The River Barook flows at
the bottom of the valley, turning water-mills, of
which some press oil out of the olives, others
grind the wheat. The property is very large
indeed, extending several miles into the interior
on one hand, and down to Sidon on the coast.
It contains twenty-eight large, and several small,
villages. Syud Bey is considered to be the
richest landholder in Syria, having a set rental
of nearly four thousand pounds per annum free
from debt. He is, moreover, the last of the
Lebanon chiefs who has kept up anything like
the feudal state of olden times.

On our arrival near the house of Moktura,
another nephew of the chief came out to
welcome us, attended by two dozen armed retainers.
The young man apologised for his uncle's
absence from the gate, he being in bad health, and
forbidden by his doctor to go out into the open
air. We were then ushered up-stairs, and through
a hall crowded with visitors, on occasion,
business, or ceremony, to a landholder, who was
also governor and judge over a vast district of
the mountain, holding in his hands full executive
power, short of life and death, over all the
inhabitants of the territory within his jurisdiction.
At the end of the hall was a curtain, screening
off the room in which the sheik was holding his
court. This curtain was drawn aside, and our
host himself came forth to give his welcome. He
led us up to the divan, where we were hardly
seated when pipes were brought in, but only to
the chief, to us his guests, and to his own
relatives there present. Then followed the usual
fire of Arabic compliments—question, answer,
and retort, with a salaam by each party between
each sentence; thus:

"Are the gentlemen in good health, has their
journey been prosperous?"

"Praise be to Allah, by your favour we are in
good health, which is improved by the sight of
your lordship, of whom we have heard so much."

"I rejoice to hear what you say; may I not be
made desolate by your absence."

"May Allah not make us desolate by your
absence, O Sheik."

Here, according to Oriental etiquette, there
was a short pause, and then we inquire:

"Is your lordship's health good? We were
most grievously afflicted by hearing that you had
been suffering."

"God is great, gentlemen. I have been very
unwell, but the sight of you has done me so much
good that I now feel well."

"We congratulate your Lordship; may you
never know what bad health is again."

"Thank you, gentlemen; may you never be
afflicted with bad health."

"Praise be to God!"

Another pause, according to etiquette. Then
says the Sheik: