The damask rose is one of the beauties of Damascus. There is one spot
quite covered with this lovely red rose.

I will now give an account of a visit a stranger paid to a rich man in
Damascus. He went through dull and narrow streets, with no windows
looking into the streets. He stopped before a low door, and was shown
into a large court behind the house. There was a fountain in the midst of
the court, and flower-pots all round. The visitor was then led into a
room with a marble floor, but with no furniture except scarlet cushions.
To refresh him after his journey, he was taken to the bath. There a man
covered him with a lather of soap and water, then dashed a quantity of
hot water over him, and then rubbed him till he was quite dry and warm.

When he came out of the bath, two servants brought him some sherbet. It
is a cooling drink made of lemon-juice and grape-juice mixed with water.

The master of the house received the stranger very politely: he not only
shook hands with him, but afterwards he kissed his own hand, as a mark of
respect to his guest. The servants often kissed the visitor's hand.

The dinner lasted a long while, for only one dish was brought up at a
time. Of course there were no ladies at the dinner, for in Mahomedan
countries they are always hidden. There were two lads there, who were
nephews to the master of the house; and the visitor was much surprised to
observe that they did not sit down to dinner with the company; but that
they stood near their uncle, directing the servants what to bring him;
and now and then presenting a cup of wine to him, or his guests. But it
is the custom in Syria for young people to wait upon their elders;
however, they may speak to the company while they are waiting upon them.