left, the name Marescalcus. After this, we examine the ruins of a large structure, which they call here the Seraglio; but it is now deserted, having become unsafe from repeated shocks of earthquakes. We find here a considerable number of shells and insects; and before daylight is quite spent, we proceed to an esplanade of ramparts, commanding the sea from a great height. At the foot of these ramparts the waves break against a massive wall of masonry, in which are buried without any order or distinction, a great number of broken pillars, time-worn by the lapse of centuries. Some excavated rocks, like those we have seen in Beyrout, appear here and there along the coast. Such are the remains of Tyre, the splendid metropolis of Phoenicia.

We have scarcely light enough left to find our way back when we make up our minds to return home: there we are visited by a host of dealers in antiquities; but they have nothing very interesting, and with the exception of some medals and a pretty little head of an empress in white marble, we find scarcely anything to satisfy our taste for relics of by-gone ages. Compared to our last night's resting-place, our lodging is a palace; and this time, at all events, we shall enjoy a really good night.

December 17th.

This morning at eight o'clock, we have resumed our march, leaving Sour by the same gate through which we entered it; and that for an excellent reason, the town has no other. About a hundred yards from this entrance is a kind of square tower, or rather reser

voir, called the Ain-Habrian. A fine ancient sarcophagus is used here as a trough.

At first we proceed eastward, then we turn to the south, in the direction of Deir-Khanoun, which we descry on a distant height. To the right, and towards the seashore, at about five hundred yards from the city gate, stands surrounded by gardens the Bordj-el-Mogharby (western tower). The road stretches across a level of very light sand, above which we perceive two shafts of columns, standing at about a thousand yards from the present town of Sour. A thousand yards further on, and in the same direction, is a Mussulman oualy (chapel), called Naby-Yahia, and also two considerable farms (Mezrao), dependencies of Raz-el-Ain. In the hamlet so called (Raz-el-Ain) are some very remarkable wells, called Solomon's Wells, and some mills which are set in motion by a small river called the Nahr Raz-el-Ain ; and lastly, beyond a mill which is built on the right bank of the river, is a burying-ground. The hamlet itself is about five thousand yards distant from Sour. We shall see, by and by, what we are probably to make of Raz-el-Ain at the time when Tyre was flourishing.

We cross the Nahr Raz-el-Ain close to the ruins of a bridge, named by the Arabs Djesr-el-Maksour; and after having proceeded for several hours southward, and along the sea-shore, we direct our course straight on to St. Jean d'Acre, where we trust to arrive in the evening.

Along the coast we fall in again pretty often, as we have done for days before, with traces of the old Roman road. The weather is still the same, and the temperature may be compared in every respect to that of the

fine summer days of our own country. But our happiness is unfortunately marred by an accident which we were far from anticipating. Towards ten o'clock in the morning, my son is taken ill again with fever, and is seized by a very violent fit. I begin to discover that he is not yet strong enough to endure the fatigues inseparable from such a journey; and the thought of the awful responsibility which would hang over me, if, unfortunately, the health of my only child were to be permanently injured, leads me to the resolution of sending him back to France, where the affectionate care and superior medical attendance which he is sure to find will restore him before the disease has had time to grow upon his constitution. However, we are now only three or four days' march from Jerusalem. To return home without having accomplished such a pilgrimage, I know, would be to him a subject of endless regret. I therefore impart my intention with hesitation and reluctance; but at the same time I comfort him as well as I can, and explain how necessary it is to push on to Jerusalem, where some days' rest will restore his strength sufficiently to enable him to retrace his steps to Beyrout, and then proceed from that place to France by the next steamer.

By eleven o'clock we pass the ruins of an ancient town of considerable size, called now Kharbet-esChebraych. These ruins lie at the foot of the abrupt declivity leading to the summit of Raz-el-Abiadh, or the White Cape, so called on account of the chalk rock which forms the promontory. The road is cut out of the rock, and is very steep and difficult for our horses. Whilst we ascend it, the Abbé and my son have remained

behind-the Abbé, to collect some new plants; my son, because, labouring under fever, he cannot keep up with the pace of our horses. All of a sudden we hear the Abbé calling out for help; and I hasten down to join them in great anxiety. My poor son had fallen heavily from his horse, his strength failing him, so that he could not keep the saddle. Indeed, he had been very nearly either killed on the spot, or rolled from the highest point of the cape into the sea.

Supporting and helping him in the best way we can, we carry him to the summit of the cape, where there is a wretched khan, called the Khan-el-Khamrah, and a deserted tower, called the Bordj-el-Biadeh, or White Tower. Close to it runs a stream with very little water, called the Ain-el-Khamrah. Here we make a halt, which has become absolutely necessary, to allow my son's fever to subside a little. Our cook Constantine sets to work, and the invalid, covered with the cloaks and great coats of all the party, enjoys a quiet sleep inside the khan, whilst we breakfast in the open air.

Up to two o'clock we remain in this place examining the rocks, and collecting from among them some seaurchins, and fossil shells, which we have great difficulty in detaching from the chalky stratum. Some fine plants, some insects, and some land shells, all quite new to us, have made us bear our misfortune with tolerable patience, so that we do not much regret the time we have spent at the Raz-el-Abiadh. At two o'clock, we mount again, or rather we pretend to mount our horses, for on the southern declivity of this cape the road is quite as bad as on the northern side, and we are obliged

to take great precautions to avoid fresh accidents; at last we are again on a level with the shore, and on the Roman road. At some hundred yards only from the foot of the cape, we stop before a double fountain, overgrown with bright green moss, and placed at the opening of a small eminence covered with rubbish. These remains are named by the Arabs, Iskanderoon, which indicates undoubtedly the site of the town, mentioned in the " Itinerary from Bordeaux to Jerusalem," in the year of our Lord 333, under the title of Alexandroschines.

We had lost too much time at the Khan-el-Khamrah, to have any chance of reaching St. Jean d'Acre before the closing of the gates, so we make up our minds to stop at the Khan-en-Nakoura, which we shall find on the road two or three leagues further on. We allow our luggage to precede us, and my son being anxious to reach the resting-place as soon as possible, goes on with the luggage. The remainder of the party proceed as usual, slowly, carefully examining everything that appears worthy of observation.

Half-a-league beyond Iskanderoon, and on the summit of some small hills covered with thorns and dwarf trees, we perceive a pillar standing erect. I immediately question our moukri, Saïd, who has a very good knowledge of this country. "This place," says he, "is called Oum-el-Aamid; but no traveller ever visits it; there's nothing to be seen." Oum-el-Aamid, the mother of pillars! such a name is quite enough to make me determine at once to run to the spot. I push my horse out of the beaten path; and through the high grass