THE title of this book gives promise of something pleasant, and the words Rambles in the Deserts of Syria hardly prepare us for a journey which leads from Beles, Hierapolis, Batnæ, and Aleppo, and thence by Marash and the Cilician Gates to Antioch, Tripoli, Dama, and Chalcis, and so back to Berea, and anon by Aishah and Damascus to Jerusalem and Beirut, and once more back to Aleppo, Andrene, Seleucia, and Marash. Such a list recalls the Mirrors of Aleppo, in the pleasant story of Sadi and the Merchant of the Isle of Kish, where the latter says: "O Sadi! I have one more trip before me. I shall take Persian sulphur Rambles in the Deserts of Syria, and among the Turkomans and Bedaweens. London: John Murray. 1864. VOL. LXIII.-NO. 1 DESERTS OF SYRIA. * to China, for I have heard that it brings a prodigious price there; and thence I shall take China-ware to Greece, and Grecian brocade to India, and Indian steel to Aleppo, and mirrors of Aleppo to Yaman, and striped cloth of Yaman to Persia, and, after that, I shall give up trading, and sit at home in my shop." Sooth to say, men do not ramble in the Syrian Desert. If they be Europeans they travel principally with a set purpose, and to see a certain locality. If Arabs, they wander, because it is their life to do so, the condition of their existence, as the river flows in omne avum. Thus the tribe of the Anezi circle perpetually "in a great migratory orbit, which takes them to Aleppo in summer, toward Urfa, Diarbekir, Mosul, and Baghdad in winter, and leads them round by the south 1 ern regions of the desert, passing near | loss only of property. Or how would Damascus, Homs, and Hama, back to such a ride as is described in letter xii. Aleppo." Or, be they European or na- of the volume before us suit the mere tive, Syrian wayfarers stray rather than tourist? Starting from Aleppo in the ramble from the right direction, like the fierce heat of August, the author of these caravan of three thousand camels, with pages rode fifteen miles south to the vilsix hundred men, which perished in 1858, lage of Sfiri, and cantered thence to Irjil, near Hara Iji Sheham. "It was bound the ancient Regillum, which he reached from Damascus to Baghdad, and lost the at nightfall. Not finding there an Arab way. No Bedaween happened to be camp, the object of his search, he rode on within reach, and a tribe came upon their till midnight and drew rein at Hara Iji remains long after their death." Sheham. There he slept on the bare ground without food, and started next day when the sun was hot, with a draught of muddy water as his sole refreshment. Riding on the whole day, at nightfall he obtained from three Bedaween boys a little milk and a crust of hard bread, and again slept on the plain. After riding the whole of the third day he arrived at the ruins of a fine old castle on a hill, called by the Bedaweens Shuemis, not far from the site of the ancient Irenopolis, now Selamieh, half-way between Hama and Palmyra. Thence he rode on all night, "sometimes at a good gallop," and as the fourth day dawned reached the hospitable tents of the Mowali. For such rides the best blood of Arabia is required in the steed, and much of the Arab power of abstinence in the rider. Least of all do men ramble voluntarily among Turkomans and Beda weens. It is with bated breath and anxious eye that the traveler presses on through the mountains of the Ansairi, or the great pine forests of the Ghiaoor Dagh, where with opportunity every man is a robber; and the rider who spurs into the illimitable desert of the Bedaweens will do wisely to watch well his mare, and see she misses not the track, as knowing his life depends upon her powers. To one who has had experience of the measure Turkomans mete out to their neighbors, to speak of rambling among them sounds like junketing among cannibals or picnics among pirates. The love of wild adventure, the grim necessity of travel, or serious and responsible duties may and do lead Europeans into the haunts of the robbers of But with every protection that knowlthe desert, but the careless spirit of the edge of the languages and the tribes, conrambler should seek more peaceful dis- summate address and presence of mind, tricts. No doubt there is a Syrian hand- and even recognized rank can give, the book, and there are certain frequented desert of the Bedaween is not always to routes along which cockneydom, ignorant be traversed with impunity. An examof the languages and heedless of the cus-ple of this will be found in the eighteenth toms of the people, may travel securely; but to penetrate into less known parts and return safely demands qualifications only attained after a long residence in the country, and not often then, but which the author of these pages abundantly possesses. Without such gifts, indeed, his rambles would soon have been unceremoniously abridged. Imagine, for example, an ordinary traveler in the situation of the author, about to enter the wild district of Chikoor Ova at the foot of the Ghiaoor Dagh, when the chief of the Turkoman escort "suddenly pulled up, called in his men and took leave," abandoning him to find his way through mountain fastnesses peopled with robbers, into the Cilician plain, and then to trust himself to the tender mercies of the Tajerli. A stranger to the country would be fortunate in such a case to escape with the letter of this series, where the author's errand of mercy in quest of the unhappy Christian women carried off from Damascus, not only was not "twice blessed," but doubly failed, first, as regards the captives, who were never recovered; and, secondly, with reference to himself, in that his own life was nearly sacrificed. The incident is one so stirring that it deserves to be extracted: "Knowing the way perfectly, we left Aisheh without an escort, and having with us only a servant, a groom, and a lad. Fer several hours we rode safely under the thickly-falling snow, unable to see fifty yards around us, and consequently unseen from any greater distance. In the afternoon, the weather unfortunately cleared, and we came in sight of some horsemen toward the north, belonging to the Shammar Sheikh, Abd-ul-Kerim, with a few of the worst characters among the Ghess and other low of a mace, which Ahmed Bey carries at his sad- tribes, which had taken the field for Deham, in, Dangers, then, and hardships, it must be admitted, attend those who wander from the beaten track in the Syrian Desert, or, indeed, in any part of the Turkish empire. But without such deviations the real condition of the country can never be thoroughly appreciated. It is when the high road is quitted, and the escort is dispensed with, that the true state of affairs becomes known. This volume teems with information as to the actual condition of both the gov ental scenery and disquisitions on archi- |