Builv. half way up the Jebli Nimrnd, on a hill above a rushing torrent, it nerer lacks water or the sound of the perpetual fountain that gaiued for it in the old day the name Callirrhoe. Water in basins, in drinkiug places, in small milis ; water in the torrente, in the springs and down the sides of streets; everywhere is heard the same bubbing sound so ctear to oriental ears. And with it are trees iunvucerable, greal forest trees in the gardens,' with wahmts and pomegrnnatos, and fruit of all sorts; gardens everywhere, within and without the town, and a thing seldom to be seen in an eaitern towu, the large courtyard of the Serai grass grown, with seats and sprwading trees on either side. The bazaais, too, and the streete seem all to share in the charm that water leuds. Nowhere else are there such vaulted corridors, tall and wiry, for the market, such spleudid caravansaries, built by some magniflcent old Turk, of an order since passed away, and where, above all, can be matched the exquisite mosque of Ibrahini-ol-Khalil - Abraham, the friend of God - with its stately minaret and marble courtyards reflected in the silent shady pool? - "Sis Montas In a Syriau Monastery," O. H. Parry.