et in height, called
Djebel Okrab. At ten o'clock, wafted along by a slow wind, we turned the
point and entered the Bay of Suediah, formed by the embouchure of the
River Orontes. The mountain headland of Akma Dagh, forming the portal of
the Gulf of Scanderoon, loomed grandly in front of us across the bay; and
far beyond it, we could just distinguish the coast of Karamania, the
snow-capped range of Taurus.

The Coasts of Syria might be divided, like those of Guinea, according to
the nature of their productions. The northern division is bold and bare,
yet flocks of sheep graze on the slopes of its mountains; and the inland
plains behind them are covered with orchards of pistachio-trees. Silk is
cultivated in the neighborhood of Suediah, but forms only a small portion
of the exports. This region may be called the Wool and Pistachio Coast.
Southward, from Latakiyeh to Tartus and the northern limit of Lebanon,
extends the Tobacco Coast, whose undulating hills are now clothed with the
pale-green leaves of the renowned plant. From Tripoli to Tyre, embracing
all the western slope of Lebanon, and the deep, rich valleys lying between
his knees, the mulberry predominates, and the land is covered with the
houses of thatch and matting which shelter the busy worms. This is the
Silk Coast. The palmy plains of Jaffa, and beyond, until Syria meets the
African sands between Gaza and El-Arish, constitute the Orange Coast. The
vine, the olive, and the fig flourish everywhere.

We were all day getting up the bay, and it seemed as if we should never
pass Djebel Okrab, whose pointed top rose high above a long belt of fleecy
clouds that girdled his waist. At sunset we made the mouth of the Orontes.
Our lion of a Captain tried to run into the river, but the channel was
very narrow, and when within three hundred yards of the shore the yacht
struck. We had all sail set, and had the wind been a little stronger, we
should have capsized in an instant. The lion went manfully to work, and by
dint of hard poling, shoved us off, and came to anchor in deep water. Not
until the danger was past did he open his batteries on the unlucky
helmsman, and then the explosion of Arabic oaths was equal to a broadside
of twenty-four pounders. We lay all night rocking on the swells, and the
next morning, by firing a number of signal guns, brought out a boat, which
took us off. We entered the mouth of the Orontes, and sailed nearly a mile
between rich wheat meadows bef