a massive old bridge, and entered the town. Riding along the
rills of filth which traverse the streets, forming their central avenues,
we passed through several lines of bazaars to a large and dreary-looking
khan, the keeper of which gave us the best vacant chamber--a narrow place,
full of fleas.

Antioch presents not even a shadow of its former splendor. Except the
great walls, ten to fifteen miles in circuit, which the Turks have done
their best to destroy, every vestige of the old city has disappeared. The
houses are all of one story, on account of earthquakes, from which Antioch
has suffered more than any other city in the world. At one time, during
the Middle Ages, it lost 120,000 inhabitants in one day. Its situation is
magnificent, and the modern town, notwithstanding its filth, wears a
bright and busy aspect. Situated at the base of a lofty mountain, it
overlooks, towards the east, a plain thirty or forty miles in length,
producing the most abundant harvests. A great number of the inhabitants
are workers in wood and leather, and very thrifty and cheerful people they
appear to be.

We remained until the next day at noon, by which time a gray-bearded
scamp, the chief of the _mukkairees_, or muleteers, succeeded in getting
us five miserable beasts for the journey to Aleppo. On leaving the city,
we travelled along a former street of Antioch, part of the ancient
pavement still remaining, and after two miles came to the old wall of
circuit, which we passed by a massive gateway, of Roman time. It is now
called _Bab Boulos_, or St. Paul's Gate. Christianity, it will be
remembered, was planted in Antioch by Paul and Barnabas, and the Apostle
Peter was the first bishop of the city. We now entered the great plain of
the Orontes--a level sea, rioting in the wealth of its ripening harvests.
The river, lined with luxuriant thickets, meandered through the centre of
this glorious picture. We crossed it during the afternoon, and keeping on
our eastward course, encamped at night in a meadow near the tents of some
wandering Turcomans, who furnished us with butter and milk from their
herds.

Leaving the plain the next morning, we travelled due east all day, over
long stony ranges of mountains, inclosing only one valley, which bore
evidence of great fertility. It was circular, about ten miles in its
greater diameter, and bounded on the north by the broad peak of Djebel
Saman, or Mount St. Simon. In the morning we passed a ruined c