The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon. Habeeb Risk Allah

who are unaccustomed to mingle with more civilised people, or to bend to the yoke which the rules of official etiquette demand and obtain.

      Adana has often been the theatre of frightful convulsions and rebellions. The supreme power of the Sublime Porte has been on more than one occasion set at defiance, and though the results have been terrible, and the honour of the Sultan been vindicated in blood, time has worn off the impression, and rising generations have continued to grow up in insolence and insubordination, till the natives are so void of civility to the stranger, that, as a recent author truthfully observes, “it was difficult for any European to traverse the bazars, especially that part allotted to shoe-makers, without being disgustingly abused, and even spit at.” In all other parts, the residence of the Pasha is usually fixed upon as the residence of the consuls and consular agents; as, for instance, Damascus, Jerusalem, and Aleppo, the presence of European authorities being always a wholesome check upon the governors, who have an innate fear of them, which, notwithstanding their deadly hate and bigotry, they are compelled to acknowledge by civil words and acts; and if there is one thing that they fear more than another, it is the facility with which Europeans use their pens. “I will write to Stamboul,” is a terrible sentence to the conscience-smitten official. In it he pictures to his imagination an endless array of evils; first, the certainty of answers; then his being involved in a difficult correspondence, which is almost sure to terminate, if he does not speedily amend, in his recall, and possibly still more severe punishment.

      Adana had few inducements to hold out to us for remaining. The Pasha’s beautiful serrai was the only object worthy of attention. This had been handsomely constructed, and was picturesquely situated on the banks of that rapid stream which flows through Tersous. Here also was a bridge of very fine structure, and apparently of very ancient date. The river itself was enlivened by a number of floating flour-mills, the rapid motion of whose wheels threw showers of clear water high up into the air, and gave a busy and stirring appearance to the, in all other respects, dull and monotonous town.

      We ventured as far north as Kulek Bughaz—that impregnable mountain-pass which Ibrahim Pasha so strongly fortified, and which modern travellers state, is now in a ruinous condition. Having, from this great elevation, taken a survey of the immense extent of plains both on the Konia and Adana side, we hastened to descend again, since the mountains were infested with lawless banditti, and the whole country around was in a very unsettled state, owing to recent warlike demonstrations between Mehemet Ali Pasha and the Sublime Porte.

      Reaching the plains, we once more skirted the river, till we arrived at a pathway, that led us, after two days’ weary journeyings, to the village of Ayas, on the northern side of the Gulf of Scanderoon; thus avoiding a passage through the territories of the descendants of that late notorious robber-chief, Kuchuk Ali Oglu, whose infamous name had spread terror far and wide throughout the Ottoman dominions.