"It didn't take long for us to examine the machinery used for making wine. There was a wooden box, about ten feet square and four feet deep, standing on short posts, and having a ladder against the side. The box is filled with grapes, which are brought in baskets, and then half a dozen men climb up the ladder, steady themselves by means of cords hanging from the ceiling, and tread out the juice with their naked feet. The juice runs from a spout in one side-end of the box, and is caught in a tub, whence it is put into casks or jars and left to ferment. The ancient Egyptians used almost identically the same sort of press, and the mode of preparing the wine has not been varied at all since the days of the Bible. [Illustration: BRIDGE OVER THE LITANY.] "Our route was quite near the river Litany, and once we crossed it on a bridge of a single arch, which was said to have been built long ago--how long ago we could not ascertain. The last three or four miles of our ride was along a carriage-road, and just at dusk we reached Shtora, where we were to pass the night. "The hotel at Shtora was kept by a Greek with an Italian wife, and they made us quite comfortable in a rough way. We had cots for beds and plenty of covering, and they gave us an excellent supper and an equally excellent breakfast. Doctor Bronson had arranged at Damascus for a special carriage to be ready at Shtora to carry us over the Lebanon to Beyroot; the carriage came while we were at supper, and the hotel-keeper, who was also agent of the road company, told us we could start at seven o'clock in the morning, and be in Beyroot by two in the afternoon. "We were off at the hour named, and soon were climbing the eastern slope of the Lebanon. Up and up we went, the air growing colder as we ascended, and calling into use all the overcoats and wraps we could muster. From the zigzags of the road we looked down on the plain we had left: at times it seemed as though we could toss a pebble into the Litany, which was reduced to a winding thread in the green carpet of Buka. The mountain grew more and more desolate with every mile of our ascent, and when we stopped to change horses at the station we walked a long way in advance in an effort to get warm. "We had said good-bye to Ali and his horses at Shtora, and our only guide now was the Arab driver, whose knowledge of French was confined to a few words. We tried in vain to learn the names of the places we were passing. We especially wanted to know if we were near the famous grove of the cedars of Lebanon, but our efforts were unrewarded. [Illustration: THE CEDARS OF LEBANON.]