the night in the comfortable German hotel built at its foot, then along the coast to Beyrout, stopping at Acre, Tyre, and Sidon—a five days’ journey. This route I should not recommend to those who dislike solitude and Eastern travel without the slightest Western comfort. Dr. and Mrs. Eddy, of the American Presbyterian Mission, received us very kindly at Sidon, as there turned out to be no hotel, though this town was by far the most flourishing we had seen. A large industrial school for boys, worked by the missionaries, was well attended, all kinds of trades were taught, the pupils eagerly and intelligently learning, and eventually going out well equipped to fight the battle of life. We rested a few days at Beyrout (the Paris of Syria) under the shadow of the purple Lebanons. Here we dismissed our muleteers, for we were now in the region of railways and civilisation. Very early on a Monday morning we got into the train which was to take us to Damascus. The journey lasted ten hours, but it seemed like two, for the railroad is cut through the Lebanons, and the most exquisite scenery meets the eye the whole way. Towards four o’clock the train rushed screaming through the valley of the Barada (the Abana of Scripture), past smiling gardens, and drew up in the station of Damascus. It was a glowing afternoon, but the lovely green of the trees and the plash, plash, of the rapid rivers softened the glare of the domes and roofs of the houses, and gave relief from the dusty roads. In the evening we went up to the top of a hill overlooking “the mother of cities,” and sat down to enjoy the scene. How dreamlike it looked in the soft sunset! The brown bare mountains on one side, the pathless desert all round. Damascus, like an exquisite pearl set in a crown of emeralds, nestled surrounded by miles of waving green trees. No wonder that to the sun-baked Bedouin of the desert it is a paradise, or that Mahomet in first beholding it, turned back, saying, “I am not fit to enter.” The bazaars of Damascus are famous in the East. Each set of merchants has its own quarters, so that there is no difficulty in finding the wares you require. There are long straight arcades, and winding, twisting arcades, all aglow with light and colour. But there is no time to linger or describe the beauties of this truly beautiful city. We spent a week amid its wonders and fell more in love with it day by day. I might mention that the hotels are fairly good, and English travellers are well cared for. And now our journeyings are nearly over. A week at Baalbec, where the famous ruins of the temples of Jupiter and the Sun are the astonishment of all beholders; thence to Beyrout, from which port we embarked for Constantinople, another delightful five days’ journey, and we steamed into the Bosphorus.