In fact, early as it was, the whole mountain
official hive was already busy. The English
officer showed us into his private office, where,
with the assistance of two or three clerks, he was
opening the despatch bags from all the different
parts of Lebanon, as well as from Beyrout. He
told us that, about a year previous to our visit,
he had by desire of Daoud Pasha organised a
regular corps of post runners; by them regular
mails, in locked bags, were received every
morning from Beyrout, and from the six or
eight sub–governors of districts throughout the
mountain. Some of these runners had just
arrived, covered with dust, while others were
preparing to start with the different posts. The
postal corps numbers about fifty picked men,
most of them Druses, and all models of strength
and activity. I never saw so many fine men
together at one time. They wore no uniform, but
each man had over his right shoulder, and across
his heart, a broad shoulder–belt of scarlet cloth,
upon which was a brass breastplate, with a
different number for every individual. Every man
was armed with his own native weapons. The
letters were carried in broad wide leather bags,
each bag having two keys, of which one was
kept by the person in charge of the post at its
destination, and the other by our English friend,
who had the management of the whole affair,
and who, indeed, had organised the system of
postal services for Lebanon. Previous to this
organisation, serious events often took place
in distant parts of the mountain without the
central authorities knowing anything of what
was going on. But the mere knowledge that
the pasha was in daily communication with all
parts of the mountain, tended to keep the people
in order. It should be remembered that Lebanon
is not a mountain, but a mountain chain, some
hundred and twenty miles long, by from fifteen
to twenty broad, and intersected by innumerable
valleys and ravines, many of them three and four
thousand feet deep; that the roads are mere
bridle–paths, narrow and close to deep precipices;
that the population are always in a
state of chronic civil war—sect against sect,
and village against village—fighting with each
other, and more or less with the authorities.

The pasha had invited us to accompany him
to the village of Abeigh, some three hours
distant. At this place there was to be an assembly
of all the Druse chiefs, and many thousands of
the Druse people; for the pasha was going to
open a college, or high school, for pupils of that
creed. We started about nine o'clock, with all
the numerous following of a Turkish pasha.
As we passed through different villages, the
people came out in holiday garb to salute the
governor–general, the women throwing
rosewater upon us as we passed, and greeting the
cavalcade with a singular shrill cry, which is
only used at weddings or on other festive
occasions. Every few miles some mountain chief
with his followers rode out to meet us, and, after
saluting the pasha, followed in the rear of the
escort, so that by the time we reached the village
of Abeigh, the party had increased to several
hundred people. At Abeigh we dismounted at
the Italian Capuccino convent, a Roman Catholic
missionary establishment some two hundred
years old, in which two Italian monks live and
preach in Arabic to the Christians of the
surrounding villages. Here, rooms had been
prepared for the pasha and his immediate suite.
The hospitable American missionaries who live
in the same village, invited my companion and
myself to put up at their house for the night,
which we were glad to do.

Next morning, by six o'clock, the whole place
was on foot to meet the pasha at the
institution he was about to open. Far and near
the hill–sides seemed alive with people. In
every direction armed and mounted chiefs,
attired in their gayest gold–embroidered jackets,
mounted on their best Arab mares, and
followed by their armed retainers, hurried
towards the open space of ground in front of
the Druse College. At seven o'clock the pasha
himself appeared, walking up from the convent,
accompanied only by the English and the
Hungarian officers, and followed by a couple of
dismounted police orderlies. The ceremony
itself was nothing remarkable; it consisted merely
in the reading out, by one of the pasha's
secretaries, of the charter in Arabic, granted to the
institution. The pasha then made a very
excellent speech in French, which was translated,
sentence by sentence, to the assembled multitude,
by his excellency's dragoman. For the
pasha himself speaks very little Arabic, and in
Lebanon there are many more people who
understand French than Turkish.

It would appear that the institution is not
to be supported in any way by government,
but that Daoud Pasha has obtained such an
influence over these wild mountain Druse
chiefs that he has persuaded their religious
sheiks, or chiefs, to devote a large portion
of their "Wacoof," revenues derived from
lands belonging to the Druse temples, towards
building and endowing this educational
establishment. I was surprised to find that
English is the only language besides Arabic
taught in the college, and that many of the
pupils—though they had only been learning it
about six months—could already speak and
read English pretty well. This is owing to the
master having been a pupil of the American
Missionary College on Lebanon, and having
acquired a fair knowledge of English. Moreover,
the Druses are fond of the Anglo–Saxon race,
and look upon us in the light of tried friends,
regarding the French as their natural enemies.

When the ceremony of the opening was over,
the feast commenced, and was a wholesale affair.
For the pasha, his personal staff, us his guests,
and the Italian monks and American missionaries
—in all about two dozen individuals—a
table apart was spread, served in the
European fashion. But for the world at large
—chiefs, priests, monks, retainers of chiefs,
soldiers, police, grooms, servants, and peasants
—eatables were furnished by the ton and the
cart–load. Between five and six thousand people