the distant range of Djebel
Hauaran, the seat of the present rebellion, and one of the most
interesting regions of Syria. I regretted more than ever not being able to
reach it. The ruins of Bozrah, Ezra, and other ancient cities, would well
repay the arduous character of the journey, while the traveller might
succeed in getting some insight into the life and habits of that singular
people, the Druses. But now, and perhaps for some time to come, there is
no chance of entering the Hauaran.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, we reached a large village, which is
usually the end of the first day's journey from Banias. Our men wanted to
stop here, but we considered that to halt then would be to increase the
risk, and decided to push on to Katana, four hours' journey from Damascus.
They yielded with a bad grace; and we jogged on over the stony road,
crossing the long hills which form the eastern base of the Anti-Lebanon.
Before long, another Arab met us with the news that there was an
encampment of Druses on the plain between us and Katana. At this, our
guard, who had recovered sufficient spirit to ride a few paces in advance,
fell back, and the impassive Dervish became greatly agitated. Where there
is an uncertain danger, it is always better to go ahead than to turn back;
and we did so. But the guard reined up on the top of the first ridge,
trembling as he pointed to a distant hill, and cried out: _"Aho, aho
henak!"_ (There they are!) There were, in fact, the shadows of some rocks,
which bore a faint resemblance to tents. Before sunset, we reached the
last declivity of the mountains, and saw far in the dusky plain, the long
green belt of the gardens of Damascus, and here and there the indistinct
glimmer of a minaret. Katana, our resting-place for the night, lay below
us, buried in orchards of olive and orange. We pitched our tents on the
banks of a beautiful stream, enjoyed the pipe of tranquillity, after our
long march, and soon forgot the Druses, in a slumber that lasted unbroken
till dawn.

In the morning we sent back the man of Banias, left the baggage to take
care of itself, and rode on to Damascus, as fast as our tired horses could
carry us. The plain, at first barren and stony, became enlivened with
vineyards and fields of wheat, as we advanced. Arabs were everywhere at
work, ploughing and directing the water-courses. The belt of living green,
the bower in which the great city, the Queen of the Orient, hides her
b