Chapter XVI.

Through the Syrian Gates.

  An Inauspicious Departure—­The Ruined Church of St. Simon—­The Plain of
  Antioch—­A Turcoman Encampment—­Climbing Akma Dagh—­The Syrian
  Gates—­Scanderoon—­An American Captain—­Revolt of the Koords—­We take a
  Guard—­The Field of Issus—­The Robber-Chief, Kutchuk Ali—­A Deserted
  Town—­A Land of Gardens.

  “Mountains, on whose barren breast
  The lab’ring clouds do often rest.”

  Milton.

In Quarantine (Adana, Asia Minor), Tuesday, June 15, 1852.

We left Aleppo on the morning of the 9th, under circumstances not the most promising for the harmony of our journey.  We had engaged horses and baggage-mules from the capidji, or chief of the muleteers, and in order to be certain of having animals that would not break down on the way, made a particular selection from a number that were brought us.  When about leaving the city, however, we discovered that one of the horses had been changed.  Signor di Picciotto, who accompanied us past the Custom-House barriers, immediately dispatched the delinquent muleteer to bring back the true horse, and the latter made a farce of trying to find him, leading the Consul and the capidji (who, I believe, was at the bottom of the cheat) a wild-goose chase over the hills around Aleppo, where of course, the animal was not to be seen.  When, at length, we had waited three hours, and had wandered about four miles from the city, we gave up the search, took leave of the Consul and went on with the new horse.  Our proper plan would have been to pitch the tent and refuse to move till the matter was settled.  The animal, as we discovered during the first day’s journey, was hopelessly lame, and we only added to the difficulty by taking him.

We rode westward all day over barren and stony hills, meeting with abundant traces of the power and prosperity of this region during the times of the Greek Emperors.  The nevastation wrought by earthquakes has been terrible; there is scarcely a wall or arch standing, which does not bear marks of having been violently shaken.  The walls inclosing the fig-orchards near the villages contain many stones with Greek inscriptions, and fragments of cornices.  We encamped the first night on the plain at the foot of Mount St. Simon, and not far from the ruins of the celebrated Church of the same name.  The building stands in a stony wilderness at the foot of the mountain.  It is about a hundred feet long and thirty in height, with two lofty square towers in front.  The pavement of the interior is entirely concealed by the masses of pillars, capitals, and hewn blocks that lie heaped upon it.  The windows, which are of the tall, narrow, arched form, common in Byzantine Churches, have a common moulding which falls like a mantle over and between them.  The general effect of the Church is very fine, though