But space fails me to describe half the incidents of our stay in Aleppo.  There are two things peculiar to the city, however, which I must not omit mentioning.  One is the Aleppo Button, a singular ulcer, which attacks every person born in the city, and every stranger who spends more than a month there.  It can neither be prevented nor cured, and always lasts for a year.  The inhabitants almost invariably have it on the face—­either on the cheek, forehead, or tip of the nose—­where it often leaves an indelible and disfiguring scar.  Strangers, on the contrary, have it on one of the joints; either the elbow, wrist, knee, or ankle.  So strictly is its visitation confined to the city proper, that in none of the neighboring villages, nor even in a distant suburb, is it known.  Physicians have vainly attempted to prevent it by inoculation, and are at a loss to what cause to ascribe it.  We are liable to have it, even after five days’ stay; but I hope it will postpone its appearance until after I reach home.

The other remarkable thing here is the Hospital for Cats.  This was founded long ago by a rich, cat-loving Mussulman, and is one of the best endowed institutions in the city.  An old mosque is appropriated to the purpose, under the charge of several directors; and here sick cats are nursed, homeless cats find shelter, and decrepit cats gratefully purr away their declining years.  The whole category embraces several hundreds, and it is quite a sight to behold the court, the corridors, and terraces of the mosque swarming with them.  Here, one with a bruised limb is receiving a cataplasm; there, a cataleptic patient is tenderly cared for; and so on, through the long concatenation of feline diseases.  Aleppo, moreover, rejoices in a greater number of cats than even Jerusalem.  At a rough guess, I should thus state the population of the city:  Turks and Arabs, 70,000; Christians of all denominations, 15,000; Jews, 10,000; dogs, 12,000; and cats, 8,000.

Among other persons whom I have met here, is Ferhat Pasha, formerly General Stein, Hungarian Minister of War, and Governor of Transylvania.  He accepted Moslemism with Bem and others, and now rejoices in his circumcision and 7,000 piastres a month.  He is a fat, companionable sort of man; who, by his own confession, never labored very zealously for the independence of Hungary, being an Austrian by birth.  He conversed with me for several hours on the scenes in which he had participated, and attributed the failure of the Hungarians to the want of material means.  General Bem, who died here, is spoken of with the utmost respect, both by Turks and Christians.  The former have honored him with a large tomb, or mausoleum, covered with a dome.

But I must close, leaving half unsaid.  Suffice it to say that no Oriental city has interested me so profoundly as Aleppo, and in none have I received such universal and cordial hospitality.  We leave to-morrow for Asia Minor, having engaged men and horses for the whole route to Constantinople.