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For there were many on its shore to greet With words of welcome—many there to meet The wearied stranger of that desert way;Fair Syrian eyes did glance assurance sweet Of answering kindness—not that might betray. All told the heart it was a blest retreat. The river Barrada, or Pharpar, winds through this valley and village of Zebdane'; it is here a clear and rapid current The first sight of its groves and plantations is delicious to the eye, after the hills and defiles left behind: apricot trees as large as wallnut trees, border the road-side; hedges, like those in Europe, separate the orchards and gardens; the gardens are full of kitchen-plants and fruit-trees in flower; the road is broad, even, and in excellent condition; every thing in these beautiful environs give sign of a thriving and even luxurious population: the fields are carefully cultivated, the orchards watered by streams from the mountains on the left; many of the paths bordered by quickset hedges kept in perfect order. The house of the Scheich is situated on the banks of the river, which flows amidst some immense trees; a terrace overhangs the stream; the house is spacious: the old man loves to conduct his visitors to this terrace, part of which being covered with carpets, forms a divan beneath one of the huge trees, that casts its shadow over the group and the waters. A wooden bridge leads from the house to this spot; the slaves of the Scheich wait upon the party, which is increased during the evening by some of the principal inhabitants, who drop in to converse with the host and his visitors. This is Orientalism in all its simplicity and glory; the rich divans of the pasha's palace, the splendid costumes of his attendants, his minute luxuries, do not touch the stranger's fancy like this evening's enjoyment beside the stream and the aged tree, the patriarchal group, and its venerable chief, his pipe and coffee, in the evening breeze. There is the singing of innumerable birds above his head, the murmur of the Pharpar, and the prospect over which his eye travels as far as the last mountains of the Anti-Lebanon; forest, plain, spots of exquisite verdure, and lastly the snowy crests, red with the last sunlight The Scheich was a fine old man, with a white beard and mild features; his family had for ages ruled this district; so peaceful, orderly, and prosperous a government is not often found in the Turkish empire: he had no cause to envy any of its rulers, whose dominion and life were seldom as secure as his own; he had nothing to do with ambition or intrigue, or the thousand arts of perfidy and cunning which the chieftains either find or make necessary to their preservation. This government had long descended from father to son, and had long been administered mildly and wisely, as was evident by the advanced state of agriculture, and the judicious regulations throughout the whole territory. Hereditary legislation had been a blessing to Zebdane; it might have been far otherwise if its Scheichs had chanced to be severe, exacting, or unprincipled men. In the interior of the Scheich's house, the rooms were of good size and clean, but the change from the river-side and the shady old trees, and the carpeted terrace, was not a luxurious one. Oriental rooms have mostly a naked and unfurnished look, especially after sun-set; the traveller must not expect a bed of down in them; cushions and carpets are the chief material; and as the Turk goes to rest with half his clothes on, the exquisite feeling of clean and fine linen would be quite thrown away upon him. Indeed, there is no comfort or luxury whatever in the Eastern mode of sleeping. On waking next morning, and unclosing the latticed casements, it was easy at first to fancy oneself in England: the gardens, the hedges, the orchards, had so much the air of home about them, save that some of the trees could not flourish in our clime: there was the singing of the birds, the vivid green of the groves, the rush of the clear waters, the neat and nice arrangement of all things around Zebdane. The second part of the town is situated on a loftier site than the first, and is equally to be praised. When we entered the place the preceding evening, the young men were engaged in athletic exercises in a large open space: they are a fine healthy-looking race, and the women are many of them handsome, with a frank and kindly air and look, not usual among Turkish women. The air of Zebdane is considered so salubrious, that people of the better class come here every year from Damascus, to enjoy its climate during the summer months. Indeed, there are few spots in the East so desirable for a tourist's sojourn as this: a few weeks might be deliciously passed here— Balbec within a day's journey on one side, Damascus within eight hours on the other, and excursions towards Lebanon easily enjoyed: board and lodging may be procured at a very cheap rate, beneath the roof of one of its respectable families, where he would hardly be conscious of " being a stranger in a strange land." MARKET-SCENE AND FOUNTAIN IN ANTIOCH. This is the most bustling part of Antioch. The fountain, which is in the middle of the plate, stands in the midst of a bazaar, in which are various shops, chiefly for fruit. Part of the old wall is seen on the top of the height on the right; some large trees give a shade and relief to the place. An old dervise is in the foreground, with his high sugar-loaf cap and coarse dress, calmly surveying the scene before him, without home, or money, or any provision for the morrow. These men often wander through the country, visiting the cottages and villages, and generally find a shelter wherever they go. The more observing and sharp-witted among them make their wandering life very agreeable; they learn to talk well, to know human nature, and to make the vices and the piety of others subservient to their own comforts. But the more stupid, wild, and fanatical of their fraternity are often received with more personal veneration than their cooler-headed brethren: they have revelations, and affect to be self-denying, being filthy in their persons and clothing. We once met one of these worthies in a village, where he had got a group of people about him: a boy beat a drum before his reverence, as he slowly walked along; all his clothing consisted of a coarse serge cloak, fastened by a cord round his waist; his thick black hair was matted, and hung about his face in wild disorder. More than one of the orders of dervises, although Mohammedans, cherish a plentiful head of hair, which is rarely cut; and when they sometimes suddenly

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