"WERE I not an Englishman, I should wish I were a Scotsman," was a compliment which met with the retort, "And were I not a Scotsman, I should wish I were a Scotsman." This patriotic incivility recurred to my mind in Damascus, when I was there, on more than one occasion, minutely and systematically investigating the work carried on by the Victoria Hospital, an almost unknown twig of Scottish benevolence and successful enterprise of which Scotsmen may well be proud. I seek to extend, ever so little, its repute, in the hope that I may contribute, ever so little, to its prosperity. Yet, lest I should weary my readers with monotonous eulogy, or by dwelling exclusively on a subject which has much of sadness in it, I will diversify my theme by first speaking somewhat of the city itself, oasis in a vast region of desert, a pearl set in emeralds.

an enormous

No place I have ever visited during my many remote travels, certainly no place comparatively so accessible from England, is so entrancingly, so dramatically oriental as Damascus. Beautiful Cairo is Egypt, tempered largely with Pharaohs and the French; Constantinople is more than half made up of Western adventurers and Eastern Levantines; Jerusalem is Jewish; Ceylon is Cingalese; Chinese

Hankow is yellow pig-tailed ugliness; Japanese Kioto is yellow veneered nudity; but Damascus is the city of oriental tradition and 'Arabian Nights,' of Haroun-al-Raschid and Sinbad the Sailor, of flowing robes and close-fitting yashmaks, of solemn pashas and smiling houris, of brilliant colours and sombre demeanour the region of

"A cloudless sun which ever shines, Bright maidens and unfailing vines."

From one of the gorges of the Anti-Libanus our evil and squalid Turkish train emerges into the upper part of the valley which marks the commencement of the Barada (Naaman's Abana). At first the traces of an elementary fertility can be surmised from a very narrow strip of green herbage, through which trickles a newly born streamlet. Gradually strip and streamlet broaden as we whirl down a precipitous incline, which leads us into the large deep basin wherein the city is situated. Impoverished vegetation and stunted trees expand into sub-tropical beauty, until at last it seems as though we were speeding through an endless hothouse area of luxuriant orchards and gardens. Walnut-trees and vines, apricot-, almond-, fig-, apple-, and plum - trees, and innumerable numbers of pomegranate-trees laden with glowing fruit, cover a circuit of about nineteen miles

The

Let me describe a typical stroll through a city which unquestionably was of considerable antiquity when Abraham, whose steward was Eliezer of Damascus" (Gen. xv.), in 1913 B.C. pursued the Syrian kings "unto Hobah, which is on the left hand of Damascus" (Gen. xiv.), and succeeded in rescuing Lot. It has now a population estimated at upwards of 200,000 inhabitants. Probably we shall not see amongst them a single European face, and certainly we shall not hear a single European word, unless indeed we specially seek it out. paucity of our fellow-countrymen may be judged from the fact that the Sunday congregation in the English church averages about fourteen only, notwithstanding diligent whipping-in. Every object is a marvel of reality or an interest of imagination. There is the throng of grave turbaned Mohammedans, the very beau idéal of dignity. There are flashing-eyed, mouth-covered women, who, if they retain a shadow of self-respect, will bashfully clap their hands to their somewhat ugly lips should their veil slip aside. There are the

brightly be- ragged, swarthy, and sometimes beautiful Arab children, only a shade less impudent than the shameless hussies who largely people the Christian quarter. There are isolated specimens of the Bedouin Children of the Desert, in aspect melodramatic, haughty, and rather villainous-looking, abominably equipped, ludicrously armed with extraordinarily long matchlocks, and mounted on incomparably splendid horses, such as surely Job must have had in his mind's eye when he describes a noble steed "who paweth in the valley," who "mocketh at fear," who "saith among the trumpets Ha, ha; and smelleth the battle afar off." There are strings of malignant camels, eyeing their human taskmasters with undisguised hatred and contempt. There are huge white donkeys, the blue-blooded of their race, with wonderful lacework patterns tattooed in scarlet and purple on their quarters, and gaudily caparisoned. There are droves of their humble brown brethren of Hampstead Heath breed, with clouts for a saddle. There are the ubiquitous pariah dogs, curs of low degree, willing to live and let live, yet less amenable to blandishments than their Stamboul cousins. There are large soft-fleeced mother sheep, led from house to house for milking purposes. There are unpleasant-looking goats fulfilling the same functions; and there are sellers of fruit, of sweetmeats, of fragrant spices, and of steaming coffee. "I cannot find out that there is any thing to see in Damascus," was

When we quit the immediate precincts of the large central square and penetrate the steep lanes and foul-smelling purlieus, we are no longer able to dispense with a dragoman. He is an evil, and, like most of them, he is a Christian, while nearly all of them are swindlers. I found that the most effectual method of dealing with him was to listen with bland attention to all he said, and to act in direct opposition to all he recommended.

Under his guidance we turn into a Damascus first-class restaurant, where we are served with kabobs frizzled on wooden skewers so nice, with sour mare's milk-so nasty, with a salad of chopped onions and parsley-so reeking, and with lemonade. Not a trace of a knife or a fork; hands must serve our turn, and our European, unclean, clumsy clawing is in humiliating contrast with the dainty, neat nicety whereby tapering oriental fingers shred away the meat from a complicated joint.

"Arise, and go into the street which is called Straight." We are in the Straight Street of Paul of Tarsus, the very same street-not perhaps lined by the very same buildings, for we may assume them to have crumbled away with years and

VOL. CLXXVI.—NO. MLXX.

to have been gradually replaced by fresh constructions, although many Mohammedan inhabitants insist that a certain house now existing in Straight Street was occupied by Judas, and point out a spot where "the disciples took him [Paul] by night, and let him down by the wall in a basket." But Straight Street as it now stands occupies beyond all doubt the same site and runs along the same lineal distance as in Bible times, and of a surety its architecture, its aspect, and the nature of its sojourners have but little changed. The roadway is quadruple the usual breadth in Eastern towns. It is arched over with a framework, which supports canvas screens as shelter from glare and weather, and is bordered with Methuselah-like tenements, the outlines of which are here and there broken with a curious species of Saracenic arch, with angles of a masonry which is coeval with the earliest dates of history, and with an architecture which is prior to any historical record. The dingy hue of antiquity is relieved by patches of blue, yellow, and red paint, gorgeous in their Eastern colouring. The throng and the traffic are characteristic and considerable; but Mohammedan dignity does not admit of any hurrying, or jostling, or gabble, or even the musical solace of our hard lives-laughter.

As for the bazaar shops, they are not exceeded in strangeness in any town in Asia. Gold and silver ornaments, arms and metal - work, carpets and 3 F