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vived are supposed to have intermarried with, and dwelt among, the people of the Lebanon. Even of very recent years records have turned up, - papers with the names and armorial bearings of some of the most aristocratic families in France ;—but the enigma must ever remain unsolved as to whether or not the people in whose hands these relics were found are really descended from, or scions of, the same noble stock.

So the night speeds on, in wakeful yet dreamy solitude; the reality of the present is clearly defined upon the mountains by the villages and gardens of its present occupants. Presently the low booming sound of the Maronite priest, summoning his flock to early prayers, assures us that even at the present hour men live here who call themselves Christians, whilst we have indisputable proofs of the existence of heathens and idolators around us. The hour has not yet arrived, though let us hope it is not far distant, when the brighter morning star shall shine over the inountains of Lebanon, and extinguish in its more brilliant light the dim flickerings of superstition and ignorance.

During all this reverie, the intense solitude of night has only been occasionally broken in upon by the discordant howlings of hungry troops of jackals, or the plaintive and melancholy note of the night owl, howling its dismal song from the darker recesses of the mountain. Thousands of crickets take up their morning hymn, and chaunt out loudly and merrily from their

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houses in the bark of the pine tree. The tinkling of an occasional muleteer's bell warns us that industrious man is already on the alert; the flocks of goats are bleating impatiently for the first streak of morning; the light of the moon grows languid; the stars glimmer feebler and feebler. The night is passed; the morning wakes up in the east, and the heavy dew falls, saturating the grateful earth.

Arise! and let us go hence.






and mak a clean fireside, Put on the mickle pot;

There are twa hens upon the bank,

Have fed this month and mair,
Mak haste, and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare.


The Druses, in common with all other sects inhabiting the East, are an early and industrious people; the first light of morning warns the good man of the house, at all seasons of the year, and in any weather, (health permitting,) to jump up from his couch, and thoroughly arouse himself for the day's work before him. At the same time his wife is equally industrious, and she has many domestic matters which require her care and attention, and which must be all settled before the children awake and interfere with her occupation. The Druse comes forth, and at the nearest fountain goes through his early ablutions ; after this he sits awhile, generally upon the grind

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stone, in the yard in front of his house, and then indulges in a pipe.

Meanwhile his wife has hurriedly prepared for hiin his early breakfast, for our Druse is a labourer, and his duties require speedy attendance at the field. What was left from yesterday evening's repast, with a few loaves and a bit of cheese or so, constitute this meal; his wife seldom joins him in this repast, because, in the first instance, she has not to undergo that fatigue and manual labour to which her husband is exposed, and which absolutely require support; and then she cannot find timne till all household affairs are settled to sit down and think about her appetite.

Whilst the husband is at his meal, the wife goes and supplies the oxen with provender; she gives the horse his corn, she unpens the goats and the poultry, and having scattered a little barley for these latter, she helps the shepherds in milking the goats; and then runs back to the house again. By this time the husband has shouldered his plough, and driven off the oxen to the field of his labour, where, with little intermission, he will toil till close upon mid-day, enlivening the hours with an occasional wild song or by a screaming conversation, carried on with other ploughmen similarly occupied in adjacent fields. Every now and then, when the heat is very oppressive indeed, he will sit down and repose for a few moments upon the shaft of his plough; and then his eldest son, who assists him as far as his strength permits, fills and lights



a pipe for him, having tinder and steel and flint always at hand.

In this interval, the wife has rolled up the mattresses and stowed them away for the day; she then sprinkles the floor over with water, and carefully sweeps the house and the front yard. This done she lights a fire, and setting thereon a huge cauldron of water, she wakes up the children and makes them breakfast sumptuously; for in their opinion, unless children eat immensely they can never thrive or remain healthy. After breakfast the warm water is brought into play, the faces and the hands of the children are purified, and with what remains she washes and scours up all the plates and cooking utensils; this done she begins to think about her own personal appearance, tidies up her hair and her dress as well as tine and her limited wardrobe will permit, and if there is any little washing to be done, she takes this in hand and goes through it at once. Then comes the consideration of what they are to have for dinner. Going into the little garden behind the house, she plucks a few love apples, or any other vegetable that may chance to be in season; then she hunts

up the henroost for new-laid eggs; and these, in addition to the goat's milk, the cheese, and the burghol already alluded to, constitute the ingredients ordinarily cooked for their mid-day meal. As, however, there are guests in the house, something additional is requisite for hospitality's sake; so the eldest daughter is

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