and I retired to bed. An hour before dawn,
one of the monks called me; and, after washing as
well as I could with half a pint of water
in an European sugar-basin, I packed saddlebags,
and was prepared to start. Our friendly
hosts were up already, waiting to see me off
before matins. Upon my taking my
interpreter aside, and asking him whether it would
not be right for me to make some present of
money to the church or convent, in return for
the hospitality that I had been shown, he
begged me not to do so, as it would not only
be refused, but would give pain. " The
custom of the country," he said, " is to make
a small present to the servant who has
waited, and if you give a silver mejidie (three
shillings and eightpence sterling) to the
deacon who served us at dinner, and six
piastres (one shilling sterling) to the outdoor
servant (a peasant) who has looked after our
horses, you will do all that can be expected
of you." I followed this advice, and certainly
have never been so well thanked.

It was still so dark when we left the
convent, that we preferred having our horses led
down the small hill. The day began to break
when we were half-way down, and on regaining
the pine-woods, we were refreshed again
by the smell of the trees, and the cool morning
air. As we moved on towards the east,
the road was, for several miles, almost level.
The day was a Maronite festival, and the
numerous church, chapel, and convent bells,
were ringing people into mass. Everywhere,
too, the peasants in their best dresses, were
seen crowding to their prayers, whilst here
and there, an emir or sheik, attended by his
company of horsemen, was bound also churchward.

At six o'clock in the morning we arrived
at the village of Bhabdet, where nearly all
the inhabitants belonged to the Greek
Catholic Church, which keeps every festival
twelve days later than the Maronites; we
found the people, therefore, busily at work.
A native of the place whom I had previously
seen in Beyrout, stepped out of his house as
we passed, and begged us to put up with him
during the heat of the day. Though desirous
to get forward, I dismounted, drank a cup of
coffee, and inspected a small silk-reeling
factory, which our host lately had built and
fitted up on the French plan. Then, as we
sat smoking under the shade of an immense
fig-tree, the whole village gathered about us,
and began to ask the news from Europe
regarding silk. " What were the latest
prices quoted for Lebanon silk in
Marseilles? " " Did I think the prices would
rise or fall before the end of the season?"
"Was the crop good in France? " " What
were Messieurs A. B. and C. (naming certain
mercantile houses in Beyrout) giving for
the best yellow short-reeled silk? " " What
difference in price was there between white
and yellow silk? " and so forth. Having
answered all these questions and many more,
to the best of my ability, we turned our
horses' heads towards the village of Mitayne.
Since leaving the convent of Mar Shyia,
intervening hills had hidden from us the
view of the sea, and prevented the sea-breeze
from reaching us. The consequence was,
that, although the air was clear, and in the
shade the climate was still pleasant as ever,
it was very hot under the sun. The
character of the view was changed entirely.
On a steep hill, which seemed to be close
on our left, but which, on account of an
intervening ravine, it would have taken us
some hours to reach, lay the villages of
Zebdy, Kornaille, Solima,and Ras-el-Mitayne.
The whole country was well, but not too
thickly wooded, and had the general appearance
of an unbounded private park. Here the
cultivation of the mulberry-tree seemed to
give way to that of the grape, for I noticed
large quantities of vines growing, and
apparently well tended in every direction. Just
before turning down into the narrow valley
where Mitayne is situated, we were met by six
mounted and armed followers of the Emir
Moussa, who had been sent out by their
master to show me the best road to his house,
which, after riding through the village, we
reached at ten o'clock in the morning, and
wherein we were very glad to take shelter
from the pouring sun.

Before we dismounted from our horses at
the door of the Emir's palace, the chief had
come out to meet us, attended by his son,
nephew, grandson, and a host of friends and
followers. We were, as usual, ushered up to
the divan, served with coffee, and pipes, and
welcomed in the hospitable manner of the
Arabs.

The Emir Moussa is a man of considerable
influence in the mountain, being a cousin of
the Kaimacan, or governor, and himself ruler
over the considerable tract of country in
which he resides. He is considered to be
one of the best horsemen in Lebanon,
although now by no means a young man;
and he was more or less mixed up in all the
civil wars which so disturbed the country
during the first forty years of this century.
Although all his relations are, or profess to
be, converts to Christianity, he still remains,
openly and avowedly, a Druse. We found
him surrounded with a regular court, consisting
of his own family, his visitors, friends,
mountain chiefs, monks and priests, to the
number of perhaps forty. He had been
absent for a couple of months, and these
visits were those of compliment upon his
return. The noon-day meal was soon
announced, and it was served and eaten in this
fashion:

Before sitting down to eat, every person
washed his hands with soap and water.
Then the table was brought in, and proved
to be a handsome stool of cedar, inlaid with
mother-of-pearl, about as high as a music-
stool, but with a top twice as large. Round