the whole population of the Province of America (the Turks consider us a

trifling little province in some unvisited corner of the world,) were

coming to the Holy Land--and so, when we got to Beirout yesterday, we

found the place full of dragomen and their outfits. We had all intended

to go by diligence to Damascus, and switch off to Baalbec as we went

along--because we expected to rejoin the ship, go to Mount Carmel, and

take to the woods from there. However, when our own private party of

eight found that it was possible, and proper enough, to make the "long

trip," we adopted that programme. We have never been much trouble to a

Consul before, but we have been a fearful nuisance to our Consul at

Beirout. I mention this because I can not help admiring his patience,

his industry, and his accommodating spirit. I mention it also, because I

think some of our ship's company did not give him as full credit for his

excellent services as he deserved.

Well, out of our eight, three were selected to attend to all business

connected with the expedition. The rest of us had nothing to do but look

at the beautiful city of Beirout, with its bright, new houses nestled

among a wilderness of green shrubbery spread abroad over an upland that

sloped gently down to the sea; and also at the mountains of Lebanon that

environ it; and likewise to bathe in the transparent blue water that

rolled its billows about the ship (we did not know there were sharks

there.) We had also to range up and down through the town and look at the

costumes. These are picturesque and fanciful, but not so varied as at

Constantinople and Smyrna; the women of Beirout add an agony--in the two

former cities the sex wear a thin veil which one can see through (and

490

The Innocents Abroad