mmercial city of the Orient, though its power
had long since passed into other hands. But there were certain stately
associations lingering around the name, which drew me towards it, and
obliged me to include it, at all hazards, in my Asiatic tour. The scanty
description of Captains Irby and Mangles, the only one I had read, gave me
no distinct idea of its position or appearance; and when, the other day, I
first saw it looming grand and gray among the gray hills, more like a vast
natural crystallization than the product of human art, I revelled in the
novelty of that startling first impression.

The tradition of the city's name is curious, and worth relating. It is
called, in Arabic, _Haleb el-Shahba_--Aleppo, the Gray--which most persons
suppose to refer to the prevailing color of the soil. The legend, however,
goes much farther. _Haleb_, which the Venetians and Genoese softened into
Aleppo, means literally: "has milked," According to Arab tradition, the
patriarch Abraham once lived here: his tent being pitched near the mound
now occupied by the citadel. He had a certain gray cow (_el-shahba_)
which was milked every morning for the benefit of the poor. When,
therefore, it was proclaimed: "_Ibrahim haleb el-shahba_" (Abraham has
milked the gray cow), all the poor of the tribe came up to receive their
share. The repetition of this morning call attached itself to the spot,
and became the name of the city which was afterwards founded.

Aleppo is built on the eastern slope of a shallow upland basin, through
which flows the little River Koweik. There are low hills to the north and
south, between which the country falls into a wide, monotonous plain,
extending unbroken to the Euphrates. The city is from eight to ten miles
in circuit, and, though not so thickly populated, covers a greater extent
of space than Damascus. The population is estimated at 100,000. In the
excellence (not the elegance) of its architecture, it surpasses any
Oriental city I have yet seen. The houses are all of hewn stone,
frequently three and even four stories in height, and built in a most
massive and durable style, on account of the frequency of earthquakes. The
streets are well paved, clean, with narrow sidewalks, and less tortuous
and intricate than the bewildering alleys of Damascus. A large part of the
town is occupied with bazaars, attesting the splendor of its former
commerce. These establishments are covered with lofty vaults of stone,
lighted