V. Union and Progress

the swallows, my companions there. When we meet, I shall recount to you the many curious incidents of my solitude and my journey in the sacred hills of Lebanon. To these auspicious mountains, my Brother, I am indebted for the health and joy and wisdom that are now mine; and yours, too, if you consider. > > Strange, is it not, that throughout my journey, and I have passed in many villages, nothing heard I of this great political upheaval in the Empire. Probably the people of the Lebanons cherish not the Revolution. There is so much in common, I find, between them and the Celtic races, who always in such instances have been more royalists than the king. And I think Mt. Lebanon is going to be the Vendée of the Turks. > > I have been in Beirut but a few days. And truly, I could not believe my eyes, when in the Place de la Concorde (I hope the Turks are not going to follow in the steps of the French Revolutionists in all things), I could not believe my eyes, when, in this muddy Square, on the holy Stump of Liberty, I beheld my old friend the Spouter dispensing to the turbaned and tarboushed crowd, among which were cameleers and muleteers with their camels and mules, of the blessing of that triple political abracadabra of the France of more than a century passed. Liberty, Fraternity, Equality!⁠—it’s a shame that the show has been running for six months now and I did not know it. I begin by applauding the Spouters of Concord Square, the donkey that I am. But how, with my cursed impulsiveness, can I always keep on the sidewalk of reason? I, who have suckled of the milk of freedom and broke the bottle, too, on my Nurse’s head, I am not to