this the Emir and the first five of his guests
—there was not room for more—sat cross-
legged on the floor, each person rising after
lie had eaten enough, and making way for
another, until all had eaten. On the stool
was laid a large copper tray, covered with
dishes of various sorts. Plates we had none,
each person helping himself by dipping into
the dish that suited him with the forefinger
and thumb of his right hand, a piece of soft
thin bread. The carte of our dinner would
have astonished any one new to the East.
We had in the middle a whole lamb, boiled,
stuffed with rice, force-meat, and pistachio
nuts; and round it mashee, or a mixture of
forced meat and rice stuffed into cucumbers;
pilau, or rice boiled in butter, and seasoned
with salt and pepper; kebabs, or small
morsels of mutton minced and beaten up with
spices into balls, and roasted upon skewers.
There were placed also in every direction
small bowls of leban, or sour milk, which the
Arabs seem to take with everything, much
as we take salt. In the way of vegetables,
there were dishes of beans, spinach, lupins,
cabbage, and lentils, all dressed with meat-
gravy and butter. Nothing but water was
drunk with the meal; and as each person
felt his hunger satisfied, he rose from the
table, washed his hands, and made way for
another: the host, however, remained during
the whole time in his place. Lastly, of
course, coffee and pipes.

One of the guests was the Superior General
of an order of Maronite monks, which owns
some thirty-five convents in the mountain.
He appeared to be a man of considerable
intelligence, and complained bitterly of the
manner in which the Pope's delegate in
Syria interfered witli the temporal affairs of
his order.

When we had smoked our pipes, the Emir,
as Civil Governor of the district, judged a
case. The trial was certainly a wonderful
business. The claim was for thirty thousand
piastres (about three hundred pounds sterling),
which one man declared that another
owed him on a running account, which had
arisen from the partnership of both parties
to the quarrel in a silk-reeling establishment.
The defendant acknowledged the debt, but
pleaded a set-off. Their respective accounts
were produced; and, as each item was read
out, the spectators gave their opinions on one
side or the other, and disputes got so high
that there appeared to be not one, but twenty
trials going on at the same time. At last,
the Emir—who (although judge) was himself
an interested party, because he had advanced
money to the defendant, on account
of the prosecutor—appeared to be satisfied
that a large portion of the debt was just,
and told the defendant that he must pay
the amount, or his olive garden would be
seized. The defendant then declared that
he had sold the olive garden long ago.
Upon this some of the spectators shouted that
he had told a falsehood, whilst others as
loudly shouted he had spoken truth. The
Emir and the prosecutor both started up
in a rage, and abused the defendant roundly.
The Emir declared, that unless he paid the
money within a fortnight, he should be cast
into prison.

At this moment my servant announced
the horses as being ready, and I took my
leave, without waiting to hear how the affair
ended. But after I had started, and had
reached the other end of the village, the
defendant overtook me. He was so good as
to ask me to lend him the sum of two
hundred pounds, for which he said he would pay
me interest at the rate of twelve per cent,
per annum, and would mortgage to me
his house, his olive garden (which it appeared
after all he had not sold), and the
mare he was riding—a very handsome animal
indeed. I need not say that I declined entering
into the transaction.

After leaving the Emir's, we made the best
of our way towards the convent of Mar
Hanna Sweir, where I was anxious to see an
Arabic printing press, which is said to be the
oldest in the world in this language, and is
certainly by far the oldest in Syria. We
were two hours and a half in getting to the
convent, which is situated, I should think, in
one of the most beautiful valleys in the world.
The monks of the establishment, headed by
the Superior, came out to welcome us. They
were about fifteen in number. Coffee and
pipes again; then we were shown the
press. We were told that it was established
here about a hundred years ago, by a man
called Abdallah, whose brother was at that
time Superior of the house. Not only did
this person found the types himself, but
he was author, as well as printer, of some
twenty large volumes, for which the types
were used. At present they are nearly worn
out, and employed but seldom, for the
American Protestant Mission Press in.
Beyrout executes orders better, more quickly,
and at half the price.

There is a small library in Mar Hanna,
but it appears to be in wretched order, and
the manuscripts, however valuable, are lying
about the floor, buried some inches deep in
dust. The Syrian monks set little or no
value upon literature, and seem to be utterly
astonished that any one can take more interest
in books than in coffee and pipes, or the silk
crop of the season. There was a monk here
who had been several years in Rome, and
spoke Italian very well. I had a long
conversation with him regarding the low state
of education in his Church, which he appeared
to regret very much, but for which he could
perceive no remedy. He told me that he
considered the new Arabic translation of the
Scriptures, now being made by the American
missionaries, to be by far the most perfect
which had been yet published, and that he
hoped to see it in the hands of every Arab