disias of Ptolemy was hereabout; the aspect of these rocks offers no objection to this conjecture, for the island of Cythera, and most of the places that were peculiarly sacred to Venus, are likewise remarkably sterile and rugged. The peninsula of Cape Cavalieré is the last and highest of the series of noble promontories that project from this coast, its white marble cliffs rising perpendicularly from the sea to the altitude of six or seven hundred feet. Every accessible spot of this peninsula has been defended by walls. A few miles to the eastward of Cape Cavalieré lies Provençal Island, which is high and precipitous towards the sea; but on the north-west side there is a profusion of ruined dwellings and churches, columns and sarcophagi. A citadel stands on the summit of the highest peak, and the whole island presents such means of natural and artificial defence, as to make it probable that it was once a station of great military strength. Vertot relates, that after the expulsion from Jerusalem of the Knights Hospitallers of St. John, and during their settlement at Rhodes, they took possession of several islands and castles on the coast of Asia Minor." Kalendria, isolated as is its situation, can supply a few comforts for the table: the wine of Cyprus is often brought from the island by the passage boats, and every crevice in the rocks and ruined fortress has its family of pigeons, which are as good as plentiful.

THE VILLAGE OF ZGARTI.

This village, about seven hours distant from Eden, and two from Tripoli, is finely situated, almost at the foot of Lebanon: the houses stand amidst olive groves in the valley. No people upon earth are so picturesquely lodged as those of the villages and hamlets in the range of Lebanon: the figures in the foreground are the peasants of the country: shepherds with their flocks, and others carrying silk, the staple produce of the territory. The road from Eden is rugged and precipitous, and for about five hours a continued and harassing descent, after which it improves, and the plantations of mulberry trees about the villages, and in the bottom of the narrow dells, are extremely beautiful. Welcome, most welcome, is it to halt at the delightful position of Zgarti, to ask the hospitality of the sheichs of Eden, who come here to enjoy, during the winter, the mild and soft air: the river Reshin, augmented by two tributary streams, winds around the village. The priests who live in these isolated domains are in manners and habits of living little distinguishable from their flock, who are much attached to them. Although there are two hundred convents in the region of Lebanon, many a village is situated out of their reach. These Maronite priests are allowed to marry, as in the primitive age of the church; but it must not be to a widow, and they are not allowed to marry a second time. They have not, as in Europe, benefices or fixed salaries, but live partly on the produce of their masses, on the offerings of their congregations, and by the labour of their hands: some carry on trades, others cultivate a little domain: whoever meets them, whether poor or rich, hastens to kiss their hand: each village has its chapel, and every chapel its bell, a thing unheard of in any other part of Turkey. The rites of the Romish church, which all the Maronites profess, are not performed in

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Europe with more liberty and publicity than in the whole of this territory. Italy does not number more bishops than this little canton of Syria, where they have preserved the modesty of their primitive condition. The traveller often meets with one of them mounted on a mule, and followed by a single sacristan. The greater part live in the convents: their revenue seldom exceeds 1500 livres, or £60 a year; and in this country, where every thing is cheap, this sum is sufficient to procure them every comfort. The village of Zgarti is a little Paradise to a contented priest: few country cures in England offer a more calm or exquisite retreat. A sabbath here tempts the traveller to stay: the peal of the solitary bell, heard far and wide; the gathering of the people in their best attire; the women with the white Syrian cloaks and turbans; the children, the very pictures of rosy health; the old men, of patriarchal air, the snowy beard on the breast, the thin locks on the brow. The mass is celebrated in Syriac, of which dialect the greater part of the people do not comprehend a word: the gospel only is read aloud in Arabic, that the people may understand it: the chapel is as rude in its structure as the cottage, and suited to the simplicity of the congregation.

The father, Jerome Dandini, who was sent by the pope on a mission to the Maronite patriarch in 1600, describes the ceremonial attendant on his death at Canobin: “We found him in the church, sitting on a chair, dead, and clad in his sacred habits, having the mitre on his head, and the patriarchal cross in his hand: there were abundance of his relations, both men and women, about him, who wept and beat their breasts, making mournful cries all night. Next day came a multitude of people thither: they carried him at noon to the usual burying-place of the patriarchs, which was not above a musketshot from thence, and then laid him in that grot, sitting in a wooden chair, according to their custom."

Zgarti is in winter the Montpelier to the beautiful Eden: on the approach of the snows and rains and blasts of the heights, the inhabitants of the latter place begin to remove to their winter habitations in Zgarti: the families, with a portion of their household goods and cattle, are seen winding down the long and barren descents, to where

"The winds breathe softly on the violet bank,

The thunder-storm is heard afar on Lebanon,
But felt not."

PASS IN A CEDAR FOREST—ABOVE BAROUK.

This pass is in the route from Damascus to Deir-el-Kamar, and about three hours from the latter place. It was yet early in the morning, and the mountain air deliciously fresh, and welcome, after the comfortless lodging of the preceding night in a Syrian cottage: the snow on the cedar trees and the mountain tops broke the lone and friendless character of the scene; the heights of Lebanon in front were like waves of the sea, rolling on each other; rocks, from whose crevices an aged tree looked forth here and there, rose over the pass on the right, where troops of goats