natives are in winter pervious to the rain and wind: the walls being only one stone in thickness, and that of a porous quality, they absorb the moisture greatly, being very thinly, if at all, stuccoed within. In such a home the stranger is liable to fever, ague, and rheumatism. We at first lodged in one of these cheerful yet comfortless houses; the parlour had four windows, looking on splendid scenes; but when wet and wild weather came, the vessel of lighted charcoal could not diffuse sufficient warmth and comfort through the apartment. The frequent arrivals of vessels of various nations from Europe, and the travellers who came on board them, Beirout being the most convenient starting-point for an Eastern tour, made the circle at the English and other consulates interesting and animated. The surrounding country is enriched with vineyards, groves of olive and palm, orange and lemon: the mulberry-trees are innumerable. The resources of this country have not been fairly improved or encouraged: the recesses of Lebanon, rich in mineral productions, deserve to be carefully examined: near the sea, the dislocated strata have almost every where a deep chalybeate tinge, and compact nodules of iron ore are of frequent occurrence. Specimens of excellent pit-coal are found in the neighbourhood of Beirout; but neither the extent nor depth of the beds which are known to exist there, have been yet ascertained. Other metallic ores are also found in various parts of the mountainous district.

At the extremity of the town, towards Sidon, is an extensive cemetery, almost at the edge of the sea: it affords a most impressive walk, when evening is on the dark cypress, on "the thousand tombs," the avenues, and the waves that dash at the feet almost of the sepulchres. The influence of the place fast gathers on the thoughts, yet there is nothing gloomy in this influence; so exquisite is the beauty of nature on every side, as to gladden even "the valley of the shadow of death." The bay on each side and in front, like a lake of gold: Lebanon, its wastes, its white villages, its lonely monasteries, red with the dying light. From the cedar, the ilex, the palm, the pine, the last beam is slowly vanishing. In such a moment, the sting of death, and the terror of the grave, cannot alarm the thoughts, which are borne away to the living world of loveliness; a faint emblem, perhaps, if aught here below can be an emblem, of that brighter and more beautiful world above, where "they shall die no more." Mourners were now moving up and down the cemetery, alone or in groups, yet mostly alone; they came to mourn their departed relatives: they wailed beneath the cypress shade.

R