st of us being entertained by the
proprietor, a man of fifty, and without exception the handsomest and most
dignified person of that age I have ever seen. He was a king without a
throne, and fascinated me completely by the noble elegance of his manner.
In any country but the Orient, I should have pronounced him incapable of
an unworthy thought: here, he may be exactly the reverse.

Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the world, the date of
its foundation going beyond tradition, there are very few relics of
antiquity in or near it. In the bazaar are three large pillars, supporting
half the pediment, which are said to have belonged to the Christian Church
of St. John, but, if so, that church must have been originally a Roman
temple. Part of the Roman walls and one of the city gates remain; and we
saw the spot where, according to tradition, Saul was let down from the
wall in a basket. There are two localities pointed out as the scene of his
conversion, which, from his own account, occurred near the city. I visited
a subterranean chapel claimed by the Latin monks to be the cellar of the
house of Ananias, in which the Apostle was concealed. The cellar is,
undoubtedly, of great antiquity; but as the whole quarter was for many
centuries inhabited wholly by Turks, it would be curious to know how the
monks ascertained which was the house of Ananias. As for the "street
called Straight," it would be difficult at present to find any in Damascus
corresponding to that epithet.

The famous Damascus blades, so renowned in the time of the Crusaders, are
made here no longer. The art has been lost for three or four centuries.
Yet genuine old swords, of the true steel, are occasionally to be found.
They are readily distinguished from modern imitations by their clear and
silvery ring when struck, and by the finely watered appearance of the
blade, produced by its having been first made of woven wire, and then
worked over and over again until it attained the requisite temper. A droll
Turk, who is the _shekh ed-dellal,_ or Chief of the Auctioneers, and is
nicknamed Abou-Anteeka (the Father of the Antiques), has a large
collection of sabres, daggers, pieces of mail, shields, pipes, rings,
seals, and other ancient articles. He demands enormous prices, but
generally takes about one-third of what he first asks. I have spent
several hours in his curiosity shop, bargaining for turquoise rings,
carbuncles, Persian amulets, and Circassi