e valley into which we descended lay directly under one of the peaks of
Hermon and the rills that watered it were fed from his snow-fields. It was
inhabited by Druses, but no men were to be seen, except a few poor
husbandmen, ploughing on the mountain-sides. The women, wearing those
enormous horns on their heads which distinguish them from the Mohammedan
females, were washing at a pool below. We crossed the valley, and slowly
ascended the height on the opposite side, taking care to keep with the
baggage-mules. Up to this time, we met very few persons; and we forgot the
anticipated perils in contemplating the rugged scenery of the
Anti-Lebanon. The mountain-sides were brilliant with flowers, and many new
and beautiful specimens arrested our attention. The asphodel grew in
bunches beside the streams, and the large scarlet anemone outshone even
the poppy, whose color here is the quintessence of flame. Five hours after
leaving Banias, we reached the highest part of the pass--a dreary volcanic
region, covered with fragments of lava. Just at this place, an old Arab
met us, and, after scanning us closely, stopped and accosted Dervish. The
latter immediately came running ahead, quite excited with the news that
the old man had seen a company of about fifty Druses descend from the
sides of Mount Hermon, towards the road we were to travel. We immediately
ordered the baggage to halt, and Mr. Harrison, Francois, and myself rode
on to reconnoitre. Our guard, the valiant man of Banias, whose teeth
already chattered with fear, prudently kept with the baggage. We crossed
the ridge and watched the stony mountain-sides for some time; but no spear
or glittering gun-barrel could we see. The caravan was then set in motion;
and we had not proceeded far before we met a second company of Arabs, who
informed us that the road was free.

Leaving the heights, we descended cautiously into a ravine with walls of
rough volcanic rock on each side. It was a pass where three men might have
stood their ground against a hundred; and we did not feel thoroughly
convinced of our safety till we had threaded its many windings and emerged
upon a narrow valley. A village called Beit Jenn nestled under the rocks;
and below it, a grove of poplar-trees shaded the banks of a rapid stream.
We had now fairly crossed the Anti-Lebanon. The dazzling snows of Mount
Hermon overhung us on the west; and, from the opening of the valley, we
looked across a wild, waste country, to