horic with an overplus of life. The boughs
of the mulberries were weighed down with the burden of the leaves;
pomegranates were in a violent eruption of blossoms; and the foliage of
the fig and poplar was of so deep a hue that it shone black in the sun.

Passing through a gateway of rock, so narrow that we were often obliged to
ride in the bed of the stream, we reached a little meadow, beyond which
was a small hamlet, almost hidden in the leaves. Here the mountains again
approached each other, and from the side of that on the right hand, the
main body of the Barrada, or Pharpar, gushed forth in one full stream. The
fountain is nearly double the volume of that of the Jordan at Banias, and
much more beautiful. The foundations of an ancient building, probably a
temple, overhang it, and tall poplars and sycamores cover it with
impenetrable shade. From the low aperture, where it bursts into the light,
its waters, white with foam, bound away flashing in the chance rays of
sunshine, until they are lost to sight in the dense, dark foliage. We sat
an hour on the ruined walls, listening to the roar and rush of the flood,
and enjoying the shade of the walnuts and sycamores. Soon after leaving,
our path crossed a small stream, which comes down to the Barrada from the
upper valleys of the Anti-Lebanon, and entered a wild pass, faced with
cliffs of perpendicular rock. An old bridge, of one arch, spanned the
chasm, out of which we climbed to a tract of high meadow land. In the pass
there were some fragments of ancient columns, traces of an aqueduct, and
inscriptions on the rocks, among which Mr. H. found the name of Antoninus.
The place is not mentioned in any book of travel I have seen, as it is not
on the usual road from Damascus to Baalbec.

As we were emerging from the pass, we saw a company of twelve armed men
seated in the grass, near the roadside. They were wild-looking characters,
and eyed us somewhat sharply as we passed. We greeted them with the usual
"salaam aleikoom!" which they did not return. The same evening, as we
encamped at the village of Zebdeni, about three hours further up the
valley, we were startled by a great noise and outcry, with the firing of
pistols. It happened, as we learned on inquiring the cause of all this
confusion, that the men we saw in the pass were rebel Druses, who were
then lying in wait for the Shekh of Zebdeni, whom, with his son, they had
taken captive soon after we passed. The news had by som