294 DESCENT FROM THE YAILAHS. 



green and waving : in the valley below the grass 

 was parched up, the corn yellow and nearly ready 

 for the sickle, and the banks of the streamlets 

 were bordered by a line of brilliant crimson, — 

 for the favourite flower of the Levantine mid- 

 summer, the beautiful oleander, was in full 

 bloom. The temperature of the air was 20° 

 higher than in the highlands we had just quitted. 

 The heat, the purple haze, the lazy stillness 

 of everything around us, all whispered that 

 the Xanthian valley was no longer the same 

 beautiful abode we had left at the close of 

 winter. The few peasants we met were wending 

 their way to the yailahs, there to enjoy the 

 summer in safety. The cottages were shut up ; 

 their inmates had deserted them at the close 

 of spring. The lowing of the cattle, and the 

 chirping of birds had ceased. Everything living 

 had gone or was going ; and as, step by step, we 

 descended into that beautiful but deadly valley, 

 our hearts misgave us — alas, with reason, for 

 there were those in it then — our countrymen — 

 to whom it was to prove, ere long, a valley of 

 weary sickness and of death. 



We crossed the Xanthus at a ford where the 

 water was four feet deep. Though not the 



