and more ambitious undertaking. At least, I have so much reason to be
grateful for the uninterrupted good health and good luck I have enjoyed
during seven months in Africa and the Orient, that I cannot be otherwise
than content with the prospect before me.

I left Beyrout on the night of the 28th of May, with Mr. Harrison, who has
decided to keep me company as far as Constantinople. Francois, our classic
dragoman, whose great delight is to recite Homer by the sea-side, is
retained for the whole tour, as we have found no reason to doubt his
honesty or ability. Our first thought was to proceed to Aleppo by land, by
way of Homs and Hamah, whence there might be a chance of reaching Palmyra;
but as we found an opportunity of engaging an American yacht for the
voyage up the coast, it was thought preferable to take her, and save time.
She was a neat little craft, called the "American Eagle," brought out by
Mr. Smith, our Consul at Beyrout. So, one fine moonlit night, we slowly
crept out of the harbor, and after returning a volley of salutes from our
friends at Demetri's Hotel, ran into the heart of a thunder-storm, which
poured down more rain than all I had seen for eight months before. But our
rais, Assad (the Lion), was worthy of his name, and had two good Christian
sailors at his command, so we lay in the cramped little cabin, and heard
the floods washing our deck, without fear.

In the morning, we were off Tripoli, which is even more deeply buried than
Beyrout in its orange and mulberry groves, and slowly wafted along the
bold mountain-coast, in the afternoon reached Tartus, the Ancient Tortosa.
A mile from shore is the rocky island of Aradus, entirely covered by a
town. There were a dozen vessels lying in the harbor. The remains of a
large fortress and ancient mole prove it to have been a place of
considerable importance. Tartus is a small old place on the sea-shore--not
so large nor so important in appearance as its island-port. The country
behind is green and hilly, though but partially cultivated, and rises into
Djebel Ansairiyeh, which divides the valley of the Orontes from the sea.
It is a lovely coast, especially under the flying lights and shadows of
such a breezy day as we had. The wind fell at sunset; but by the next
morning, we had passed the tobacco-fields of Latakiyeh, and were in sight
of the southern cape of the Bay of Suediah. The mountains forming this
cape culminate in a grand conical peak, about 5,000 fe