the faith of Christ. No doubt too, an occasional shudder of gloom and remorse for such acts would creep over him in the chill of evening, or in the heats of noon-day, and darken all his schemes of active vengeance against the brethren. But still he journeyed northward, and each hour brought him nearer the scene of long-planned cruelty. On the last day of his wearisome journey, he at length drew near the city, just at noon; and from the terms in which his situation is described, it is not unreasonable to conclude that he was just coming in sight of Damascus, when the event happened which revolutionized his purposes, hopes, character, soul, and his whole existence through eternity,—an event connected with the salvation of millions that no man can yet number.
Descending from the north-eastern slope of Hermon, over whose mighty range his last day's journey had conducted him, Saul came along the course of the Abana, to the last hill which overlooks the distant city. Here Damascus bursts upon the traveler's view, in the midst of a mighty plain, embosomed in gardens, and orchards, and groves, which, with the long-known and still bright streams of Abana and Pharphar, and the golden flood of the Chrysorrhoas, give the spot the name of "one of the four paradises." So lovely and charming is the sight which this fair city has in all ages presented to the traveler's view, that the Turks relate that their prophet, coming near Damascus, took his station on the mountain Salehiyeh, on the west of the hill-girt plain in which the city stands; and as he thence viewed the glorious and beautiful spot, encompassed with gardens for thirty miles, and thickly set with domes and steeples, over which the eye glances as far as it can reach,—considering the ravishing beauty of the place, he would not tempt his frailty by entering into it, but instantly turned away with this reflection: that there was but one paradise designed for man, and for his part, he was resolved not to take his, in this world. And though there is not the slightest foundation for such a story, because the prophet never came near to Damascus, nor had an opportunity of entering into it, yet the conspiring testimony of modern travelers justifies the fable, in the impression it conveys of the surpassing loveliness of the view from this very spot,—called the Arch of Victory, from an unfinished mass of stonework which here crowns the mountain's top. This spot has been marked by a worthless tradition, as the scene of Saul's conversion; and the locality is made barely probable, by the much bet-
