July 10th.

To-day Herr Sattler had quite recovered his health, so that we could again commence our journey, according to custom, early in the morning.  Our road lay continually by the sea-shore.  The views were always picturesque and beautiful, as on the way from Batrun to Djaebbehl; but to-day we had the additional luxury of frequently coming upon brooks which flowed from the neighbouring Lebanon, and of passing springs bursting forth near the seashore; one indeed so close to the sea, that the waves continually dashed over it.

After riding forward for four hours, we reached the so-called “Dog’s-river,” the greatest and deepest on the whole journey.  This stream also has its origin in the heights of the Lebanon, and after a short course falls into the neighbouring sea.

At the entrance of the valley where the Dog’s-river flowed lay a simple khan.  Here we made halt to rest for an hour.

Generally we got nothing to eat during the day, as we seldom or never passed a village; even when we came upon a house, there was rarely any thing to be had but coffee:  we were therefore the more astonished to find here fresh figs, cucumbers, butter-milk, and wine,—­things which in Syria make a feast for the gods.  We revelled in this unwonted profusion, and afterwards rode into the valley, which smiled upon us in verdant luxuriance.

This vale cannot be more than five or six hundred feet in breadth.  On either side high walls rise towering up; and on the left we see the ruins of an aqueduct quite overgrown with ivy.  This aqueduct is seven or eight hundred paces in length, and extends as far as the spot where the Dog’s-river rushes over rocks and stones, forming not a lofty, but yet a fine waterfall.  Just below this fall a bridge of Roman architecture, supported boldly on rocky buttresses, unites the two shores.  The road to this bridge is by a broad flight of stone stairs, upon which our good Syrian horses carried us in perfect safety both upwards and downwards; it was a fearful, dizzy road.  The river derives its name from a stone lying near it, which is said to resemble a dog in form.  Stones and pieces of rock, against which the stream rushed foaming, we saw in plenty, but none in which we could discover any resemblance to a dog.  Perhaps the contour has been destroyed by the action of wind and weather.

Scarcely had we crossed this dangerous bridge when the road wound sharply round a rock in the small but blooming valley, and we journeyed towards the heights up almost perpendicular rocks, and past abysses that overhung the sea.

The rocky mountain we were now climbing juts far out into the sea, and forms a pass towards the territory of Beyrout which a handful of men might easily hold against an army.  Such a pass may that of Thermopylae have been; and had these mountaineers but a Leonidas, they would certainly not be far behind the ancient Spartans.

A Latin inscription on a massive stone slab, and higher up four niches, two of which contain statues, while the others display similar inscriptions, seemed to indicate that the Romans had already known and appreciated the importance of this pass.  Unfortunately both statues and writing were so much injured by the all-destroying hand of time, that only a man learned in these matters could have deciphered their meaning.  In our party there was no one equal to such a task.