before our eyes.  This prospect is indeed magnificent.  We overlook the entire plain of Saphed, as far as the shores of the Galilean Sea.  Mount Tabor is also known by the name of the “Mountain of Bliss”—­here it was that our Lord preached His exquisite “Sermon on the Mount.”  Of all the hills I have seen in Syria, Mount Tabor is the only one covered to the summit with oaks and carob-trees.  The valleys too are filled with the richest earth, instead of barren sand; but in spite of all this the population is thin, and the few villages are wretched and puny.  The poor inhabitants of Syria are woefully ground down; the taxes are too high in proportion to the productions of the soil, so that the peasants cannot possibly grow more produce than they require for their own consumption.  Thus, for instance, orchards are not taxed in the aggregate, but according to each separate tree.  For every olive-tree the owner must pay a piastre, or a piastre and a half; and the same sum for an orange or lemon tree.  And heavily taxed as he is, the poor peasant is never safe in saying, “Such and such a thing belongs to me.”  The pacha may shift him to another piece of land, or drive him away altogether, if he thinks it advisable to do so; for a pacha’s power in his province is as great as that of the Sultan himself in Constantinople.

Porcupines are to be met with on Mount Tabor; we found several of their fine horny quills.

From the farther side of the mountain we descended into the beautiful and spacious valley of Saphed, the scene of the miracle of the loaves and fishes, and rode on for some hours until we reached Tabarith.

A very striking scene opens before the eyes of the traveller on the last mountain before Tabarith.  A lovely landscape lies suddenly unrolled before him.  The valley sinks deeply down to the Galilean Sea, round the shores of which a glorious chain of mountains rises in varied and picturesque terrace-like forms.  More beautiful than all the rest, towers in snowy grandeur the mighty chain of the Anti-Lebanon, its white surface glittering in the rays of the sun, and distinctly mirrored in the clear bosom of the lake.  Deep down lies the little town of Tabarith, shadowed by palm-trees, and guarded by a castle raised a little above it.  The unexpected beauty of this scene surprised us so much that we alighted from our horses, and passed more than half an hour on the summit of the mountain, to gaze at our leisure upon the wondrous picture.  Count S. drew a hurried but very successful sketch of the landscape which we all admired so much, though its mountains were naked and bare.  But such is the peculiar character of Eastern scenery; in Europe, meadows, alps, and woods exhibit quite a distinct class of natural beauty.  In a mountain region of Europe, a sight like the one we were now admiring would scarcely have charmed us so much.  But in these regions, poor alike in inhabitants and in scenery, the traveller is contented with little, and a little thing charms him.  For instance, would not a plain piece of beef have been a greater luxury to us on our journey than the most costly delicacies at home?  Thus we felt also with regard to scenery.