voraciously eat the whole melon, a dark foreboding took possession of nis mind. There was no time to be lost; he returned to the khan, left his bags of salt on the floor, mounted one mule, and, driving the other before him, hastened to the gate, which luckily was not yet closed. All that night he travelled without any stop, save to rest his mules for a few moments, and by sunrise next morning he gained a village at the top of the mountains, which was situated in another pashalik, and out of the governor's jurisdiction, where he remained a few days; on the second day, word was brought by some passengers that the governor had died in the night, the very night after he had eaten the melon which the Frank hakim prescribed. Most surely, had the latter tarried in the town, the morning light had not seen his head on his shoulders.

season.

THE RIVER KISHON.

This scene is on the shore between Acre and Mount Carmel, and not very far from the little town of Caipha, which is seen to the right, at the foot of the mountain. The ford is at a short distance from the mouth of the river, where the water is usually above the horse's knees: when we crossed it, it was so swollen by the rains, that it reached to the saddle. It here flows through thickets of palm, pomegranate, and odoriferous shrubs, that beautifully skirt the beach-the current is rapid and clear, except in the rainy The dull walls and towers of Caipha, the long outline and broken surface of Carmel in the back ground, with a few groups of natives on the beach, or reclined beneath the cypress shade of the adjacent burial-ground, formed a very pleasing scene. The shore is flat and monotonous from Acre to this spot; inland it is little cultivated and inhabited yet formerly this was a productive territory-of corn, and grazing land, and vineyards. The country being mostly peopled by Mohammedans, may account for the neglect of the vine; yet not wholly, for though they may not drink wine, they may eat as many grapes as they please :-yet very few vineyards are now met with throughout the Holy Land:-even the produce of these, the villagers do not often use themselves, but send as a kind of tribute or present to obtain favour of their rulers, as though the words were fulfilled to the present day, "thou shalt plant a vineyard, and shalt not gather the grapes thereof."

The course of the Kishon to this spot is through the plain of Esdraelon, and along the base of Carmel; a blessing throughout its whole tract to man and beast, to the field and the store, were there industry in the people to profit by its waters, which are rarely shrunken or dried by the heats: even when the brook is dried, and the mountain-stream reduced to a few shallow pools in its stony bed,-this ancient river still flows on, a joy to the eye that roves over the wide landscape of the plain of Esdraelon and its sacred mountains, and an inexpressible comfort to the pilgrim and the wayfaring man, journeying there. How dreadful, in this country, must have been such a three years' drought as was inflicted upon Israel in the days of Ahab, may easily be conceived, when it is remembered that in summer the richest soil is burnt to dust; so that the traveller, riding through this great plain in July or August, would imagine himself to be crossing

L

a desert. With regard to water, some parts of Palestine appear, in the months of October and November, to labour under great privation, and can only depend on the tanks and cisterns, with which, however, they are not all supplied. The cities and villages have such supplies; and in every stage of seven or eight hours, there are usually found, once or twice at least, cisterns or muddy wells. Generally this want of water is a source of great inconvenience in these journeys; for even in October, the mid-day heat is great, and the moisture of the body is soon exhausted. In many spots, however, as if to remind us of what Palestine once was, a beautiful strip of verdure is seen, extending sometimes for the short space of a hundred yards, at other places for seven or eight hundred, denoting the presence of water; and here is found a small native spring bubbling up, which, after winding its simple course, and blessing the land on either side, is absorbed by the soil. At such places, the husbandman has often planted a few trees and vegetables, exactly answering to the expression in Isaiah: "Thou shalt be like a watered garden; and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not." Here, too, the flocks are brought to drink, before they are driven in for the night; or groups of females and children hasten at eventide with their pitchers, to take in their supply of water. Such short-lived streamlets may be observed in various places; they just serve, by their appearance, though not by their number, to illustrate the expressions, describing to the Israelites the land of Canaan before they entered it: "The Lord bringeth you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys. and hills."

SCHEICH'S HOUSE AT ZEBDANÉ.

This village is situated on the road from Balbec to Damascus, within a day's journey of the latter; it is large and well built; the streets are broad and straight, with stone pavements on the insides; the houses are large, with yards full of cattle, and wellcultivated gardens: there is a look of cleanliness and comfort about the place, not often met with in Syria out of Lebanon. Rarely does such a resting-place as Zebdané await the traveller at the close of day; he has left behind him, in Damascus, an inhospitable city, an unfriendly and bigoted people, where money must purchase every attention and enjoyment; there is no kindness or benevolence to the stranger. Is it not delightful to look arround him, and see, in the streets and doors of Zebdané, smiling and cheerful faces greeting his arrival? to feel that the sympathies and mercies of human nature are are again gathering around him? There is no khan to shelter him for the night; many a home would willingly receive him, but he is directed to the house of the scheich, as the place of honour and hospitality.

It is a desolating feeling when

We stand alike unknowing and unknown;
It presses on the heart, which fain would then
Recall the smiles that once were all its own.

O'er the dark mountains he is journeying: pale
With weariness, yet his eye was bright
And kindled as he came to that sweet vale,
Where redly fell the day's departing light.