ht, with two lofty square towers in front. The pavement
of the interior is entirely concealed by the masses of pillars, capitals,
and hewn blocks that lie heaped upon it. The windows, which are of the
tall, narrow, arched form, common in Byzantine Churches, have a common
moulding which falls like a mantle over and between them. The general
effect of the Church is very fine, though there is much inelegance in the
sculptured details. At the extremity is a half-dome of massive stone, over
the place of the altar, and just in front of this formerly stood the
pedestal whereon, according to tradition, St. Simeon Stylites commenced
his pillar-life. I found a recent excavation at the spot, but no
pedestal, which has probably been carried off by the Greek monks. Beside
the Church stands a large building, with an upper and lower balcony,
supported by square stone pillars, around three sides. There is also a
paved court-yard, a large cistern cut in the rock and numerous
out-buildings, all going to confirm the supposition of its having been a
monastery. The main building is three stories high, with pointed gables,
and bears a strong resemblance to an American summer hotel, with verandas.
Several ancient fig and walnut trees are growing among the ruins, and add
to their picturesque appearance.

The next day we crossed a broad chain of hills to the Plain of Antioch,
which we reached near its northern extremity. In one of the valleys
through which the road lay, we saw a number of hot sulphur springs, some
of them of a considerable volume of water. Not far from them was a
beautiful fountain of fresh and cold water gushing from the foot of a high
rock. Soon after reaching the plain, we crossed the stream of Kara Su,
which feeds the Lake of Antioch. This part of the plain is low and swampy,
and the streams are literally alive with fish. While passing over the
bridge I saw many hundreds, from one to two feet in length. We wandered
through the marshy meadows for two or three hours, and towards sunset
reached a Turcoman encampment, where the ground was dry enough to pitch
our tents. The rude tribe received us hospitably, and sent us milk and
cheese in abundance. I visited the tent of the Shekh, who was very
courteous, but as he knew no language but Turkish, our conversation was
restricted to signs. The tent was of camel's-hair cloth, spacious, and
open at the sides. A rug was spread for me, and the Shekh's wife brought
me a pipe of tolerable