On account of the excellence of the material, and the skilful manner of its preparation, the Coffee of the East is the finest in the world.  I have found it so grateful and refreshing a drink, that I can readily pardon the pleasant exaggeration of the Arabic poet, Abd-el Kader Anazari Djezeri Hanbali, the son of Mahomet, who thus celebrates its virtues.  After such an exalted eulogy, my own praises would sound dull and tame; and I therefore resume my pipe, commending Abd-el Kader to the reader.

“O Coffee! thou dispellest the cares of the great; thou bringest back those who wander from the paths of knowledge.  Coffee is the beverage of the people of God, and the cordial of his servants who thirst for wisdom.  When coffee is infused into the bowl, it exhales the odor of musk, and is of the color of ink.  The truth is not known except to the wise, who drink it from the foaming coffee-cup.  God has deprived fools of coffee, who, with invincible obstinacy, condemn it as injurious.

“Coffee is our gold; and in the place of its libations we are in the enjoyment of the best and noblest society.  Coffee is even as innocent a drink as the purest milk, from which it is distinguished only by its color.  Tarry with thy coffee in the place of its preparation, and the good God will hover over thee and participate in his feast.  There the graces of the saloon, the luxury of life, the society of friends, all furnish a picture of the abode of happiness.

“Every care vanishes when the cup-bearer presents the delicious chalice.  It will circulate fleetly through thy veins, and will not rankle there:  if thou doubtest this, contemplate the youth and beauty of those who drink it.  Grief cannot exist where it grows; sorrow humbles itself in obedience before its powers.

“Coffee is the drink of God’s people; in it is health.  Let this be the answer to those who doubt its qualities.  In it we will drown our adversities, and in its fire consume our sorrows.  Whoever has once seen the blissful chalice, will scorn the wine-cup.  Glorious drink! thy color is the seal of purity, and reason proclaims it genuine.  Drink with confidence, and regard not the prattle of fools, who condemn without foundation.”

Chapter XIV.

Journey to Antioch and Aleppo.

Change of Plans—­Routes to Baghdad—­Asia Minor—­We sail from Beyrout—­Yachting on the Syrian Coast—­Tartus and Latakiyeh—­The Coasts of Syria—­The Bay of Suediah—­The Mouth of the Orontes—­Landing—­The Garden of Syria—­Ride to Antioch—­The Modern City—­The Plains of the Orontes—­Remains of the Greek Empire—­The Ancient Road—­The Plain of Keftin—­Approach to Aleppo.

  “The chain is loosed, the sails are spread,
     The living breath is fresh behind,
  As, with dews and sunrise fed,
     Comes the laughing morning wind.”

  Shelley.

Aleppo, Friday, June 4, 1852.