The Russellville Democrat., 1890-12-18

house in my boyhood. and nothing lighter in tho way of reading than "Baxter's Saints" Everlasting Rest, ' and D'Aubigny's History ol the Refor- nation" Damascus appeared to mo as sacred and secular history have pre- sented it. and so the city was not dis appointment but with few exceptions surprise
 Under my window tonight in the ho- tel at Damascus I hear the perpetual ripple and rush of the River Abana. An, the secret is ontl Now I know why all this fiorn and fruit and every thing is so green, and the plain one great em- erald. Tho River Abanal And not far off the River Pharpar, which our horses waded through to-day. Thank the rivers, or rather the God who made the riversl Deserts to the north, deserts to the south, deserts to the east deserts to the west, but here a paradise. And as the rivers Gihon and Pison, and Hid- dekel and Euphrates made the other paradise, Abana and Pharpar make this Damascus paradise. That is what made General Naaman, of this city of Damascus, so mad when he was told for the cure of his leprosy to go and wash in the River Jordan. The River Jordan is much of the year a muddy stream, and it is never so clear as this River Abana that I hear rumbling under my window tonight, nor es the River Pharpar that we crossed today. They are as clear as though they have been sieved through some especial sieve of the mountains General Naa- man had great and patriotic pride in these two rivers of his own country, and when Elisha, the prophet. told him that if he wanted to get rid of his leprosy he must go and wash in the Jordan, he felt as we, who live on the Hudson, would feel if told that we must go and wash in the muddy Thames, or as if those who live on the trans parent Rhine were told that they must go and wash in the muddy Tiber. So General Naaman cried out with voice as loud as ever he had used in com manding his troops, uttering those memorable words which every minister of the Gospel sooner or later takes for his text: Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than the waters of Israel? May I not wash in them and be clean?" Thank God we live in a land with plenty of rivers, and that they bless all our Atlantic coast and all our Pacific coast, and reticulate all the continent between the coasts. Only those who have travelled in the deserts of Syria, or Egypt or have in the OYental cities heard the tinkling of the bell of those who sell water, can realize what it is to have this Divine beverage in abundance. Water rumbling over the rocks, turning the mill-wheel, saturating the roots of the corn, dripping from the buckets, filling the pitchers of the household, rolling through the fonts or baptistries or holy ordinance, filling the reservoirs of cities, inviting the cattle to come down and slake their thirst and the birds of Heaven to dip their wing, ascending in robe of mist and falling again in benedic- tion of shower-.water, living water, God given wateri
 The spirit of sno horrible religion which pervades the city of Damascus along whose streets we walk and out of
 
 in whose mosques we study the wood carvings and bedizenments, was demon strated as late as 1860, when, in this city, it pnt to death six thousand Chris tians in forty-eight hours, and put to the torch three thousand Christian homes, and those streets we walk to- day were red with the carnage, and the shrieks and groans of the dying and dis honored men and women made this [ lace a hel, on earth. This went on until a Mohammedan, better than his religion, Abd-el-Kader by name, a great soldier who in one war had, with twenty-five thousand troops, beaten sixty thousand of the enemy, now protested against this massacre, and gathered the Christians.of Damascus into castles and private houses and filled his own home with the affrighted sufferers. After awhile the mob came to his door and demanded the Chris tian dogs whom he was sheltering. And Abd l-Kader mounted horse and drew his sword. and with a few of his old soldiers around him charged on the mob and cried: ''Wretchesi Is this the way you honor the prophet? May his curses be upon you! Shame on you. Shame! You will yet live to repent. You think you may do as you please with the Christians, but the day of retribution will come. The Franks will yet turn your mosques into churches Not a Christian will l give up. They are my brothers. Stand back or 1 will give my men the order to fire" Then by the might of one great soul under God the wave of assassination rolled back. Hurrah for Abd-el-Kaderi Although now we Americans and foreigners pass through the streets of Damascus un- hindered there is in many parts of the city the subdued hissing of hatred for Christianity that if it dared would put to death every man, woman and child in Damascus who does not declare allegiance to Mohammed. But l am glad to say that wide, hard, splendid turnpike road has within few years been constructed from Beyrout, on the shore of the Mediter. ranean, to this city of Damascus, and, If ever again that wholesale assassina- ton is attempted, French troops and English troops would, with jingling bits and lightning hoofs, dash up tho hills and down on this Damascus plain and leave the Mohammedan murderers dead on the floor of their mosques and seragilos- It is too late in the history of the world for governments to allow such things as the modern massacre of Damascus. For such murderous attacks on Christian missionaries and Christian disciples, tho Gospel is not so appro- priate as bullets or sabers sharp and heavy enough to cut though with one stroke from crown of head to saddle.
 But must say that this city of Da- mascus, as l see 1t now, is not as ab- sorbing as the Damascus of olden times. l turn my back upon the bazaars with rugs fascinating the merchants from Bagdad, and the Indian textile fabric of incompatible make. and the manu- factured saddles and brides gay enough for Princes of the Orient to ride and