DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.5073#0166
TRIPOLI.
155
a very pretty view is obtained: Mount Casius on the
right, and the Lebanon on the left,—the graceful bays,
where sponges luxuriate, sweeping into every imagin-
able curve on either side. From the gardens, on the
south of the little harbour, the view is also very pretty.
In short, this Latakia is a gay, pretty little town, sub-
sisting upon its merchandise of tobacco, and sponges,
and remarkably delicate silver-work; the bazaars are
Uncommonly good for so small a place; the tobacco is
brought in from all the north of Syria to be shipped
from the port, and is, when the duty on reaching home
is added, very nearly as dear as in London; the sponges
are gathered off the coast, chiefly from the rocks near a
little bay to the north, which is occupied by the divers
and seamen only. The cliffs above are filled with the
rock-hewn tombs of the ancient Laodicea-maritima;
they are very simple, and, of course, all of them quite
empty.
Tripoli, where we spent the next day, is a handsome ,
town, and beautifully situated on a narrow strip of
plain, at the foot of the Lebanon range, which rises
with abrupt loftiness directly behind the town — its
strata most strangely and grotesquely marked, as if a
boiling mass had been thrown out and suddenly cooled
111 its still seething commotion. Between the beach
aud the mountains are miles and miles of delicious
fruit gardens — oranges, apricots, and figs, hedged with
pomegranates, tangled over with clematis, and watered
by thousands of tiny streamlets from the Kadisha river.
* ive old Castles remain: the largest of which, on the
seaside, built by Raymond de Toulouse, was still oc-
cupied and fitted with cannon till 1840, when the
English knocked huge holes in its ancient walls; the
155
a very pretty view is obtained: Mount Casius on the
right, and the Lebanon on the left,—the graceful bays,
where sponges luxuriate, sweeping into every imagin-
able curve on either side. From the gardens, on the
south of the little harbour, the view is also very pretty.
In short, this Latakia is a gay, pretty little town, sub-
sisting upon its merchandise of tobacco, and sponges,
and remarkably delicate silver-work; the bazaars are
Uncommonly good for so small a place; the tobacco is
brought in from all the north of Syria to be shipped
from the port, and is, when the duty on reaching home
is added, very nearly as dear as in London; the sponges
are gathered off the coast, chiefly from the rocks near a
little bay to the north, which is occupied by the divers
and seamen only. The cliffs above are filled with the
rock-hewn tombs of the ancient Laodicea-maritima;
they are very simple, and, of course, all of them quite
empty.
Tripoli, where we spent the next day, is a handsome ,
town, and beautifully situated on a narrow strip of
plain, at the foot of the Lebanon range, which rises
with abrupt loftiness directly behind the town — its
strata most strangely and grotesquely marked, as if a
boiling mass had been thrown out and suddenly cooled
111 its still seething commotion. Between the beach
aud the mountains are miles and miles of delicious
fruit gardens — oranges, apricots, and figs, hedged with
pomegranates, tangled over with clematis, and watered
by thousands of tiny streamlets from the Kadisha river.
* ive old Castles remain: the largest of which, on the
seaside, built by Raymond de Toulouse, was still oc-
cupied and fitted with cannon till 1840, when the
English knocked huge holes in its ancient walls; the