This is the capital of Syria.
It is perhaps the most ancient city in the world. Even in the time of
Abraham, Damascus was a city; for his servant Eliezer came from it.
But Damascus is most famous, on account of a great event which once
happened near it. A man going towards that city suddenly saw in the
heavens a light brighter than the sun, and heard a voice from on high,
calling him by his name. Beautiful as the city was, he saw not its beauty
as he entered it, for he had been struck blind by the great light. That
man was the great apostle Paul.
Who can help thinking of him among the gardens of fruit-trees surrounding
Damascus?
The damask rose is one of the beauties of Damascus. There is one spot
quite covered with this lovely red rose.
I will now give an account of a visit a stranger paid to a rich man in
Damascus. He went through dull and narrow streets, with no windows
looking into the streets. He stopped before a low door, and was shown
into a large court behind the house. There was a fountain in the midst of
the court, and flower-pots all round. The visitor was then led into a
room with a marble floor, but with no furniture except scarlet cushions.
To refresh him after his journey, he was taken to the bath. There a man
covered him with a lather of soap and water, then dashed a quantity of
hot water over him, and then rubbed him till he was quite dry and warm.
When he came out of the bath, two servants brought him some sherbet. It
is a cooling drink made of lemon-juice and grape-juice mixed with water.
The master of the house received the stranger very politely: he not only
shook hands with him, but afterwards he kissed his own hand, as a mark of
respect to his guest. The servants often kissed the visitor's hand.
The dinner lasted a long while, for only one dish was brought up at a
time. Of course there were no ladies at the dinner, for in Mahomedan
countries they are always hidden. There were two lads there, who were
nephews to the master of the house; and the visitor was much surprised to
observe that they did not sit down to dinner with the company; but that
they stood near their uncle, directing the servants what to bring him;
and now and then presenting a cup of wine to him, or his guests. But it
is the custom in Syria for young people to wait upon their elders;
however, they may speak to the company while they are waiting upon them.
Damascus used to be famous for its swords: but now the principal things
made there, are stuffs embroidered with silver, and boxes of curious
woods, as well as red and yellow slippers. The Syrians always wear yellow
slippers, and when they walk out they put on red slippers over the
yellow. If you want to buy any of the curious works of Damascus, you must
go to the bazaars in the middle of the town; there the sellers sit as in
a market-place, and display their goods.
SCHOOLS.--It is not the custom in Syria for girls to learn to read. But a
few years ago, a good Syrian, named Assaad, opened a school for little
girls as well as for boys.
It was easy to get the little boys to come; but the mothers did not like
to send their little girls. They laughed, and said, "Who ever heard of a
girl going to school? Girls need not learn to read." The first girl who
attended Assaad's school was named Angoul, which means "Angel." Where is
the child that deserves such a name? Nowhere; for there is none
righteous, no, not one. Angoul belonged not to Mahomedan parents, but to
those called Christians; yet the Christians in Syria are almost as
ignorant as heathens.
Angoul had been taught to spin silk; for her father had a garden of
mulberry-trees, and a quantity of silk worms. She was of so much use in
spinning, that her mother did not like to spare her: but the little maid
promised, that if she might go to school, she would spin faster than ever
when she came home. How happy she was when she obtained leave to go! See
her when the sun has just risen, about six o'clock, tripping to school.
She is twelve years old. Her eyes are dark, but her hair is light. Angoul
has not been scorched by the sun, like many Syrian girls, because she has
sat in-doors at her wheel during the heat of the day. She is dressed in a
loose red gown, and a scarlet cap with a yellow handkerchief twisted
round it like a turban.
At school Angoul is very attentive, both while she is reading in her
Testament, and while she is writing on her tin slate with a reed dipped
in ink. She returns home at noon through the burning sun, and comes to
school again to stay till five. Then it is cool and pleasant, and Angoul
spins by her mother's side in the lovely garden of fruit-trees before the
house. Has she not learned to sing many a sweet verse about the garden
above, and the heavenly husbandman? As she watches the budding vine, she
can think now of Him who said, "I am the true vine." As she sits beneath
the olive-tree, she can call to mind the words, "I am like a green
olive-tree in the house of my God." Angoul is growing like an angel, if
she takes delight in meditating on the word of God.[2]
[2] Extracted chiefly from the Rev. George Fisk's "Pastor's
Memorial," and Kinnear's Travels.