The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon. Habeeb Risk Allah

all their poetry; and I admire them still, but with a milder and more subdued admiration.

      “He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills.” This was a portion of a morning’s reading lesson; the force and beauty of the verse were illustrated by everything around me. My worthy preceptor would impress this fact upon my mind. The men, the cattle, the trees, shrubs, flowers, birds, butterflies, even the most insignificant insect that crawls upon the earth—all these are preserved, he argued, by the bounty and beneficence of the Creator—without this water how would nature subsist? In short the whole of that delightful Psalm seemed as though expressly composed to illustrate the country around us, especially that passage which says, “The cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted; where the birds make their nests.”

      Thus profitably and pleasantly the early hours of the day would be consumed. I was then dismissed with sage advice, to remember throughout the day what I had read and heard; and my uncle being called away by his avocations, I was left to amuse myself with my play-mates in the village, until the hour of noon summoned us to our substantial mid-day meal. Like most boys, we were prone to mischief. I remember a favourite game amongst the village lads, which occasionally terminated in a squabble, and was known by the name of Al Cadi, or The Judge. The Cadi was chosen by lot, as were the officers of his court, and the imaginary plaintiffs and defendants. Squatted on the ground, under the pleasant shade of some mulberry-tree, we then held a court. Sentence was recorded and executed; and sometimes the boy who personated the imaginary criminal was sentenced to be bastinadoed. On these occasions, the executioners laid about them so smartly with the light switches of the mulberry and olive, that though the boy’s shoes were never removed, the lash penetrated to the sole of the foot, and then the pretended culprit, smarting from pain, would lose all command over his temper; a melée would ensue, which outraged the dignity of the court, and usually terminated by all the members, the Cadi included, being summarily whipped for their naughtiness.

      When the hour of mid-day was announced by the striking of gongs, which in Syria are usually substituted for bells at some churches, all our family assembled for futar, and my uncle would enter, followed by the peasants employed about his plantations, together with his other servants. This was the signal for the cook and her assistant to carry into the centre of the yard a large iron cauldron, containing the ruzz-mufalfal, or whatever was prepared for the day for the supply of the whole household. Clean shining platters were ranged in piles round this cauldron, and a blessing having been first asked, the food was ladled out—a goodly portion for each—enough and no waste. The only distinguishing mark at this family meal was, that the members of my uncle’s family were all seated round a low circular table, and reclined upon carpets and against cushions. The others sat where their fancy dictated; but they chiefly crowded under that side of the court-yard wall which afforded a shade from the heat of the sun. In addition to the contents of the cauldron, there was generally a dish of stewed meat and vegetables; or (if the season was Lent), of the egg-vegetable, or batinjan, and the vegetable-marrow, sliced and fried in oil—with as many cucumbers, pickles, lettuces, radishes, and young onions, as any one wished and asked for. During the repast, one of the servants usually stood at the door to watch for any poor wayfarers who might pass, to ask them to partake of our hospitality. When all had finished, the fragments were divided into equal portions amongst the cats and dogs of the establishment; and what was left by them was given to the fowls and sparrows. Our evening meal differed but little from that of the morning, except on days when the national dish of Kubbee [10] superseded everything else. Then we had Kubbees in soup made of laban, or curdled milk, and Kubbees fried, and Kubbees baked; for the Syrian can never tire of eating of this delicious dish. The interval between mid-day and the evening was occupied variously—but first came the indispensable siesta, indulged in by men, women, and children. The men would then return to their respective labours, while the women occupied themselves in household matters, and most of the children were sent to the village school; but for myself, my afternoons were occupied with our family spiritual adviser, an excellent old man, who came daily and instructed me, from the hours of two to four p.m. After supper, my uncle would sit in state and receive the visits of the neighbours, who usually dropped in for an hour or two every evening. They sat and smoked, and talked about agricultural matters or village affairs; and sometimes one of the party would tell an amusing story, and another would sing a song—sweetmeats, coffee, and other refreshments being from time to time handed round—and thus the evenings would be spent in pleasant harmless enjoyment. This, with very little variety, is a faithful picture of what was our every-day life at Shuay-fât: and so passed the years of my infancy.

      I have omitted to make any personal allusion to the various members of my family. I hope, however, that I shall be pardoned in making a slight reference to my uncle’s lovely daughters, nine in number; these fair cousins of mine outrivalled each other in beauty and amiable qualities, and each had a trait of beauty peculiar to herself. In Syria, it is the custom to distinguish the various members of a family by a soubriquet, which has reference to some perfection or failing. Thus our groom, Yusuf, who limped a little, was called “Topal,” or the lame; and one of my cousins, “Al Shams,” or the sun, owing to her very bright eyes; whilst another, who had mild blue eyes, was designated, “Al Kamar,” or the moon. Al Kamar was so noted for her beauty and sweet disposition, that two of the chiefs of Lebanon sought her hand in marriage—and this, though they had never seen her; but Al Kamar was not ambitious of honors and riches. The creed of the sheikhs also differed widely from her own; so she refused them both. All these nine daughters are now married and settled in life; so I take leave of them with a fervent prayer, that the Almighty may graciously watch over them, and crown their end with eternal happiness.

      Shuay-fât, like most of the surrounding villages, produces a large quantity of silk; but it is in particular celebrated for the excellence of its wine, its olives, and olive-oil. Of the first, I can affirm, that I have, in after-years, heard good judges of wine, when quoting its excellence, refer to it as verifying the words of Hosea (xiv. 7), “The scent thereof shall be as the wine of Lebanon.” It is certainly very odoriferous. The olives and olive-oil are not to be surpassed in all Syria.

      The inhabitants, both men and women, are a fine, healthy people, and the males are particularly athletic. To describe them well, I cannot use better or more appropriate language than that of the prophet Ezekiel (xxxi. 3), “Behold, the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of a high stature.”

      Yet with all these combined advantages, of health, a delicious climate, and a fertile soil, many of the poor peasants are oppressed and miserable. This arises from the iniquitous system of extortion practised on them by land-owners and subordinate officers. It must, however, be confessed, that the mountaineers are, to a certain extent, more independent than the inhabitants of the plains, who are ridden over roughshod by the petty and tyrannical under-strappers in office.

      I had barely attained my tenth year, when, much to my grief, I was removed from the family of my kind uncle, and taken to Beyrout, there permanently to reside; but, alas for short-sighted mortals, an event was even then brewing, which burst like a tempest, over the Beyroutines, and which materially affected my father’s plans and wishes with regard to my future career in life.

CHAPTER II.

       PIRATICAL ATTACK ON BEYROUT.

       Table of Contents

      Months rolled on. Merchants were at that period carrying on a comparatively thriving trade at Beyrout. The novelty of the scene that presented itself on my first arrival there had gradually worn off. In my leisure hours I rambled along the sandy beach, gathering shells, and wading ankle deep into the surf, at first with ill-suppressed fear and trembling; but the example of other boys emboldening me to venture into the water, I finished by becoming quite an adept in the art of swimming. Then the ships were a source of wonder and surprise, as they sailed in and out of the harbour, like gigantic swans floating over the waves. These also had ceased to excite interest, for I had been on board, handled the tarry ropes, walked the deck, and suffered inconvenience from the disagreeable motion, so that these also had