gentleman, myself, a Moslem horseman given
us by the government, and two native Christian
servants, was considered perfectly safe, as the
Druses—unlike the Moslems of Damascus—
have always respected the person and property
of Europeans, especially of Englishmen.

Our route lay to the East and North of the
town gates of Beyrout, after leaving which about
a mile behind us we passed the remains of an
old brick building, displaying a large brown mark,
as if some peculiar plaster had been long ago
flung against the wall, and had become petrified
upon it. One of the childish local legends has it
that it was here the celebrated fight between St.
George and the Dragon took place; and that,
after the conflict was over, the saint coming here
to wash his hands, flung off the soapsuds, and
thus caused the marks now seen on the wall.
A little further on we crossed the Beyrout river
by a Roman bridge of seven arches, which,
although a few more winters must destroy, the
Turkish government do nothing to mend: for
the same reason, I suppose, that they have never,
since they reoccupied the country in 1840,
made a road or raised a public building of any
kind, save a huge useless pile of barracks for
the soldiers at Beyrout, which is capable of
holding a garrison about four times as large as
the Porte can ever afford to send to Syria. All
over the provinces of Syria and Palestine it is
curious to observe the remains of public works,
many of them still in excellent condition, made by
every nation that has ruled the land, save only the
Osmanli Turks. The Jews, the Phoenicians, the
Romans, the Crusaders, and more recently the
Egyptians,have each left some mark of their
occupation. Even the Emir Beshir, who ruled over
Lebanon for nearly half a century, and whose
banishment from Syria by us English in 1840 has
proved such a curse for the country, left a splendid
palace in the mountain, and a good bridle road
from Beyrout to the very centre of Lebanon.
It is true that both have fallen into ruin and
decay; for, in twenty years, the Turks have
never repaired either. And other emirs and
sheiks, Druse and Christian, have here and
there built handsome residences, erected factories,
and terraced out large parts of the rocky
mountain, so as to sow it with corn or plant it
with mulberry-trees. Nor have Europeans been
idle in the bringing into Lebanon capital, and
in building factories for the reeling of silk.
Missionaries, too, Protestant and Catholic,
have here and there erected churches,
hospitals, and schools, in Beyrout and elsewhere,
and the French troops, since they landed in Syria
six months ago, have made more roads than the
Turkish government had made in the twenty
years it has possessed the laud. An excellent
carriage-road, the only one throughout
Turkey in Asia, is now being made from Beyrout
to Damascus by a French Joint Stock Company.
The Turk, and he alone, has done nothing whatever
for the country, except exact all its
revenues. The Osmanli's mission is to destroy,
not to build up. He loves a ruin, and loathes
anything that, is new or useful or likely to benefit
mankind. From the Beyrout river we proceeded
towards the sea-shore by what was once a paved
Roman road, about a mile long. The stones are
rotten, and covered with thick heavy dust, over
which a horse steps and stumbles, and strains,
and lames himself, trying to get along.

Clear of this break-neck road, our way for
a mile or so was along the firm sandy beach of
St. George's Bay, along which our horses stepped
gaily as they jogged along. Whatever may be—
and are, no doubt— the delights of railway
travelling, commend me to the free and
independent feeling which all— save either a very
bad horseman, or one to whom the petty
comforts of civilisation are essential—must feel
on starting on a trip in the East. Mounted on
a good horse, a pair of saddle-bags under your
servant on a second nag, care and business left
behind for the time, certain of a hospitable
welcome, a good table, and a comfortable bed at
your destination: certain, also, that neither post
nor telegram can overtake you to mar your holiday,
I know of nothing more pleasant than an
expedition like that on which we were bound.
But it is only in the East that it can be undertaken,
for the West has got far too civilised for
anything save conventional pleasures, which
must be more or less ruled by Bradshaw and the
pocket. Moreover, there is something so
exhilarating in journeying on Lebanon that the
troubles of the path are forgotten. Every
now and then your horse has to make his way
over large slabs of smooth slippery rock, but
it hardly ever happens that he makes a false
step, and, when he does so, he recovers himself
in a wonderfully quick way. The splendid
bracing air, getting cooler and cooler the higher
we ascend, the delightful smell of the pine-trees,
and the beautifully wild and varied scenes met
with at every turn of the path, amply repay one
for all discomfort or trouble. The ascent on
our road was very rapid indeed. Even at the
foot's pace we travelled at, an hour and a half
after leaving the sea we were more than a thousand
feet above its level. Then we called our
first halt, and, under the shade of some
magnificent pine-trees, sat down to discuss the
eatables which we had brought with us for breakfast.
Here, just under the village of Brumana, is
perhaps one of the most beautiful of the many views
for which Lebanon is celebrated. Looking
towards Beyrout, it seemed as if we could have
thrown a stone into the sea, the extraordinary
transparency of the Syrian atmosphere
occasioning the apparent distances of all objects
to be wonderfully diminished. Around us on
every side was the extraordinary terrace
cultivation peculiar to Lebanon. The amount of
industry which must have been expended on
this, and the richness of the soil which, scattered
as it were in mere handfuls on the rocks, brings
forth in such abundance, are testimony enough,
if other were wanting, that if Syria had but a
tolerably honest government, if men on this
land could expect to reap what they sow, it
would be one of the most flourishing countries
in the whole world.