even hunted out an English vice-consul, who, but rarely troubled with the visits of travellers, gave us a hospitable reception; nevertheless, time hung so heavily on hand, that a boat was hired to row across to the neighbouring town of Tortous, or Tortosa, near which we could discern at this distance the remains of some considerable edifice.

Having reached the deserted strand, we found it was but a short walk up to the building, which proved to be the ruins of a large church, apparently, from its pointed arches, the work of the Crusaders. The spot had long since been abandoned; the roof was entirely gone, the walls rent, and a few goats were browsing upon the long rank grass that grew where once had been the altar. We then walked on to Tortosa, another ruin, with the remains of strong fortifications, also erected during the brief existence of the Latin kingdom. These memorials of the stirring and romantic ages of the Crusades can never, at least by me, be beheld without a feeling of peculiar interest. Tortosa was one of the last strongholds which yielded to the arms of Saladin, and here the Christian knights took their final leave of the land they had so long and so gallantly struggled to maintain.

We returned to Ruad, and, favoured again by a fair and pleasant breeze, set sail, and soon lost sight of that ancient commercial island, amidst the light vapours that rose after sunset from the cerulean sea. There were no berths in this diminutive bark; as before, a carpet spread upon the sand which served as ballast, saddle-bags for pillows, and a cloak for a coverlet, made up the accommodation; I slept soundly, and had the pleasure, on awaking, to find that we were proceeding with the same rapidity as before. The coast scenery was growing bolder as we advanced. Beyond the lofty headlands which dropped into the sea, was seen the stupendous cone of Mount Casius, isolated like Vesuvius, its summit bare and white, but its flanks, which rose directly from the waves, covered with magnificent forests, apparently in a state of nature. We flew rapidly along past this magnificent object,

VISIT TO SUWADIYEH.

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and in the afternoon entered the Orontes. At the mouth of this river is a bar upon which the surf was breaking roughly, and in crossing this, we were at one moment very near being capsized among the breakers, the next, our bark was in still water and quietly moored to the shore.

Near the landing-place, in a village called Suwadiyeh, or as Europeans call it, “ Suadéa," is the residence of Mr. Barker, formerly our consul at Alexandria, who having retired from active life, has here purchased an estate, and devoted himself to his favourite pursuit of horticulture. A letter of introduction to this gentleman had been furnished me, which I sent forward while I waited; and soon, "on hospitable thoughts intent," a member of his family rode down, bringing a led horse upon which I was to accompany him to the house. Whether the having passed two nights in an open boat, or the evident cordiality of my reception had influenced me, I know not, but when I saw the white walls and shady verandahs of the building peeping up among luxuriant gardens, it struck me as the prettiest and most English looking place I had seen in the whole of Syria. Nor can I ever forget how I was welcomed by this estimable gentleman and his lady. In a word, I felt on this remote and unvisited corner of Syria, at home. There was all that goes to make up the precious significance of that word to a wayworn traveller in the manner of my host and hostess. That night I laid my head on my pillow with an unwonted feeling of mental and bodily luxury.

Next morning I was abroad before breakfast, with Mr. Barker, inspecting his gardens, in which he might well take pride. The soil of Syria is most prolific, but the art of gardening has long been forgotten, and the fruits obtainable in the country, grapes and figs excepted, are of poor quality. My host had introduced varieties of the apricot, vine, and other trees, and the products of which under his system of horticulture were so delicious, that I have heard a captain of a man-of-war on the Syrian station declare,

F

that when once he had got into the garden he knew not how to get out of it. Up in the neighbouring mountains Mr. Barker had also established a plantation of potatoes and other vegetables requiring a colder climate, with complete success. He was thus not only indulging what Bacon calls "the purest of human pleasures," but bestowing a boon upon the country. Yet so deeply rooted were the indolence and apathy engendered by long habit, that when cuttings and seeds were given to the neighbouring peasantry, they seldom took the trouble of cultivating them. This luxuriance of production showed, at all events, what Syria once was, and what she might again be, under a government that should know how to stimulate, without crushing, as Mehemet Ali was then doing, the industrial energies of the people.

After breakfast, we mounted our horses, and rode over to see the ruins of Seleucia. This city, which bears the name of its founder, Seleucus, was the port of Antioch. When that city was in all its glory, so also was Seleucia; but, while the former

city still subsists, although in a degraded condition, the latter has fallen into irrecoverable ruin. We reached its remains through a wild tract, overgrown with myrtle and oleander, which

RUINS OF SELEUCIA.

the

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here flourish in the utmost luxuriance. The city stood on a plain stretching to the sea, backed by Mount Saint Cymon which served as its Necropolis; its precipitous cliffs being everywhere hewn into sepulchres, after the fashion of Petra, accessible only by flights of steps cut in the rock. Passing through a ruined gateway, we crossed the area of the city to the port, of which extensive remains may still be traced, sufficient to show that it was once capable of sheltering a considerable number of ships.

The sea was breaking desolately over its ruinous piers; and Mount Casius (upon whose top Julian sacrificed to the titulary deity of Antioch) lifted its magnificent cone in the background. Here, in the days of its former prosperity, when the harbour was crowded with shipping, and its temples hung with the votive offerings of grateful mariners, and the city alive with commerce, Paul embarked on his first missionary voyage to Cyprus; and here he landed and embarked again more than once during his numerous missionary journeys to and from Antioch. No spot on earth can now be more utterly desolate than Seleucia. That

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EXCAVATIONS AT SELEUCIA.

it was formerly great and populous might well be seen from its tombs and ruins alone; but it was not until we visited its really wonderful excavations, forming, apparently, a convenient passage from the city down to the sea, that we could form any adequate idea of what the place once was. They are thus correctly described by Colonel Chesney:-" The first part of this extraordinary work is a hollow way of 600 feet long by 22 feet wide, and, in some places, about 120 feet high. The second is a regular square tunnel, 293 feet in length by 22 feet wide, and 24 feet high, which, like the preceding portion, is cut through a compact tertiary limestone. To the latter succeeds another hollow way, of 204 feet long by 22 feet wide, from the bottom of which, at the southern side, whilst the excavation itself descends more rapidly, a supply of water was carried along a channel of 18 feet wide, preserving the same level till it reached the exterior side of the hill, from whence it was carried southward into the city. In this portion of the work, which is 110 feet high, (represented in the engraving) a narrow staircase descends along the side of the rock, from the top of the excavation to within about 14 feet of the bottom, which, probably, was the ordinary level of the water in this part of the cut. Another tunnel, 102 feet in length, succeeds the latter portion of the work, and then a hollow way of 1,065 feet, the eastern part of which is crossed by a graceful aqueduct, supported by a single arch. In a recess near the opposite extremity of this, are some well-executed tombs, on the upper part of the rock; and a little onwards, the effects of time are apparent, in the water having forced a passage through the southern side of the excavation, from whence it proceeds, along a steep rocky descent, into the great basin. Thus far, the general direction is W.S.; but the excavation now sweeps gradually round, and at 322 feet northward, it is crossed by an arch, bearing some imperfect inscriptions. Finally, about 588 feet further, the hollow way, which is in this part 30 feet high by 17 feet wide, terminates abruptly,