ABU EL ASWAD-ORNITHON. 249 nicians. The Druses are Arabs, who came from the eastern confines of Syria, and settled in Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon within the last nine hundred years. No other country in the world, I presume, has such a multiplicity of antagonistic races, and herein lies the greatest obstacle to any general and permanent amelioration and improvement in their condition, character, and prospects. They can never form one united people, never combine for any important religious or political purpose, and will therefore remain weak, incapable of self-government, and exposed to the invasions and oppressions of foreigners. Thus it has been, is now, and must long continue to be-a people divided, meted out, and trodden down. From these tombs of 'Adlûn to the Kasimîeh, the plain is called Abu el Aswad, from a brook of that name which cuts through the centre of it, or both plain and brook derive this name (Father of Black) from the extreme blackness of the soil. There are three paths-one along the base of the hills, the main road through the centre of the plain, and a third by the sea-shore. We take the latter to avoid the mud. From the brook southward, the regular road is now soft black mire, in the depths of which every vestige of the old Roman pavement (if there ever was one) has entirely disappeared. Have these ruins along the shore no name? To judge from the extent of ground covered with foundations, fragments of Roman brick-work, tesselated pavements, and general rubbish, there must have been a large city here. They probably mark the site of the ancient Ornithon, though this is not certain. They now have no other name but that of 'Adlûn. We shall pass many other sites, for the entire coast was once a continuous village, like the Bosphorus above Constantinople, and this renders the present utter desertion of the coast the more remarkable. From Sidon to Tyre there is not a single hamlet on the shore, and these plains are all cultivated by people who reside on the mountains. Have the inhabitants retreated to the hills to enjoy a cooler climate, or for the sake of protection from bands of lawless soldiers passing up and down the coast? As far back as the time of Thucydides at least, the people in many parts of the Mediterranean were accustomed to build their towns at a considerable distance from the shore, and in strong positions, to escape the visits of pirates who then infested the sea. Any city exposed to these lawless attacks, and unable to defend itself, must of course be abandoned so long as this liability continues; but as soon as the sea is cleared of pirates, the inhabitants return and rebuild, except where some cause more permanent leads to final desertion. Such causes have long since reduced Cæsarea, Askelon, and other important places to utter and hopeless desolation. I suppose the main reason for the total desertion of this particular coast is to be found in an entire change of employment. The Phoenicians were mariners, and hence, wherever there was a sandy beach upon which to draw up their small craft, or a sheltered cove where they could ride at anchor, there a village sprang up and flourished. Now there are no mariners; not a boat is owned by any of these peasants; they are exclusively given to agriculture, and have no occasion to dwell near the shore. Of course it is better for them to reside on the hills, as you see they do, in those prettily-posted villages on the mountain side. That white dome south of 'Adlûn covers the tomb of a saint called Zare. A weather-beaten, surly sheikh of the village told me that Zare was the grandson of Joshua (on whom be peace). As such, I am willing to leave him in unquestioned possession of his sepulchre and pedigree, honored as a great saint by these semi-savage Metawelies. It is decidedly interesting, however, to hear these austere disciples of 'Ali, as ignorant of history as the oxen they are punching along with their goads, repeat these venerable Bible names as familiar "household words." We must take care how we cross this Abu el Aswad, for there are quicksands at its mouth. My horse once sank to his belly, and plunged desperately before he brought me TENTS OF KEDAR-GAZELLES. 251 Above to the other side. Here is a safe ford, however. us you see that noble arch of a Roman bridge. It is quite perfect, but the embankment on either side has long since been washed away, so that it is useless. From this on, much of the plain is impracticable marsh in winter. In the centre of it are large springs, which were once surrounded by masonry like those at Ras el 'Ain, near Tyre, and for the same purpose. The work is now broken, and, indeed, most of the plain is overgrown with thorns and abandoned to Arabs. A group of their tents spreads along the base of the hills on our left. If those of Kedar were no more attractive than these of Abu el Aswad, the Bride in the "Song of Songs" has fallen upon a very lame comparison for her charms. Ay; but observe, it is she that is black, not the tents of Kedar, perhaps; not the curtains of Solomon, certainly. These may have been extremely beautiful. But even black tents, when new, and pitched among bushes of liveliest green, have a very "comely" appearance, especially when both are bathed in a flood of evening's golden light. And here we have started up, and sent leaping over the plain, another of Solomon's favorites. What elegant creatures those gazelles are, and how gracefully they bound! My beloved is like a roe or young hart; behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. These lovely harts are very timid, and descend at night to the plains to feed among the lilies until the day break and the shadows flee away. This is alluded to in the charge to the daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up nor awake my love till he please.1 We shall meet these graceful gazelles all through Syria and Palestine, and the more you see of them the greater will be your admiration. Solomon is not alone in his partiality. Persian and Arab poets abound in references to them. The fair ones of these fervid sons of song are often compared to the coy gazelle that comes by night and pastures upon their hearts. These "cruel gazelles, with graceful gait and liquid 1 Song i. 5. 2 Song ii. 8, 9. 3 Song ii. 17. + Song iii. 5. eye," are found in other lands, and graze on other hearts besides those of Persian poets. The sacred writers frequently mention gazelles under the various names of harts, roes, and hinds. They are celebrated for their activity. Thus Jacob says of Naphtali, He is a hind let loose,1 and his mountains abound in gazelles to this day. Asahel was light of foot as a wild roe.2 And David sings, He maketh my feet like hind's feet, and setteth me upon my high 3 GAZELLES. places. I have often stopped to admire the grace, and ease, and fearless security with which these pretty animals bound along the high places of the mountains. They are amiable, affectionate, and loving, by universal testimony; and accordingly Solomon says, Let her-the wife of thy youth-be as the loving hind and pleasant roe; and no 1 Gen. xlix. 21. 2 2 Sam. ii. 18. Prov. v. 19. GAZELLES-THE KASIMIEH. 253 sweeter comparison can be found. It is implied in Jeremiah xiv. 5 that the hind is particularly fond of her young, for the prophet illustrates the severity of the threatened dearth and famine by declaring that the very hinds forsook their young in the field, because there was no grass. David compares his longing for the living God to the panting of the hart for the water-brooks. I have seen large flocks of these panting harts gather round the water-brooks in the great deserts of Central Syria, so subdued by thirst that you could approach quite near them before they fled. But here we are on the banks of the Kasimîeh, and yonder, at the foot of the bridge, our lunch awaits us. This bridge, which now springs quite across the river by one bold and lofty arch, is not old, for Maundrell, in 1696, found the ancient one broken down, and he and his party had great difficulty in crossing, and so should we without a bridge. So I should judge, for it is the largest river I have seen in this country, and appears to be full to the brim. You call it Kasimîeh? It is the ancient Leontes, and its present name, except just 1 Ps. xlii. 1, 2. |