Beyroot, September 20, 1836.

Yesterday, Ibrahim Pasha reached this place in an Egyptian frigate from Tripoli, on his way to the south. He landed about the middle of the day, under a salute from the forts, and was escorted by a body of troops to a large house outside the walls, and near the sands. In the afternoon, the American consul, who was about to call on the Pasha, as is usual with the consuls on such occasions, was so kind as to call and take me with him. We found a company of soldiers before the door, and a number of officers and dignitaries of various kinds, in waiting. We were asked into a carpeted room, with a divan, that is, a low seat covered with cushions, on all sides. The Pasha was seated in one corner; several consuls with their suites were in the act of leaving when we entered. He returned our salutations with an inclination of the head, and a slight motion of his hand to his breast, and pointed us to seats on the divan a few feet from him—the consul on his right and myself on his left.

The Pasha is a short man, but heavily built, and I should judge from his appearance that he has considerable muscular force. He has a coarse, homely, round face, but none of its features can be called striking. His skin is rather rough and coarse, and looks as if it would bear washing more frequently than it receives it, and would not be the worse if some soap were at times added to the water. This was the case also with his hands, which looked as if they had never known a glove. They were fleshy—the fingers short but thick, and indicated a powerful grasp. He wore the Turkish dress, which, as you know, consists of a long robe open in front, and also at the sides from the knees down, showing the large loose trousers worn under them. His outside garment was of a flesh-coloured silk; the second, which showed itself at the breast, was striped silk. His girdle was a variegated Cashmere shawl, forming a bandage round him of a foot in width. This shawl was not of the finest kind. He had a plain red fez on his head, with no other ornament upon it than the usual blue tassel. He wore plain stockings and a pair of red slippers. In truth, his whole dress was far inferior to that of a number of persons who came in and paid their respects to him while we were there. Most of them, however, wore the large Turkish cloak; he was without any. Take him all in all, the man and the dress, and I think that at least one half of those who came in while we were there, were his equals, if not his superiors. He conversed freely, laughed a good deal, and several times very heartily. I could not understand enough of the conversation to know what things had the power of pleasing and amusing him. At times, I thought a sour and severe expression gathered on his countenance. He spoke with interest of the American squadron, and the politeness of Commodore Elliott in showing him everything about his vessel. He was evidently struck with the style and equipment of our vessels. He mentioned with much satisfaction some small present the commodore made him. The visiters were announced by an officer in waiting, and approached him usually one at a time. When they were Turks, and possibly the case was the same with all but Franks, they kneeled on one or both knees, making the Turkish salutation, and kissed his hand, which he held out to them; then rose, repeating the application of the hand to the forehead and breast, and retired to the part of the room or divan to which he pointed them. The more respectable persons were invited to be seated.

One of his objects in coming to Beyroot is, to visit the coal-mines in this vicinity. He referred to this object, saying with a laugh that he was going to Corneil to turn coal-merchant. He has for some time been trying to make the coal-mines of advantage to his close-run treasury; but he is a poor manager, and until he adopts a better plan he is not likely to make a fortune at the coal-trade. He has the mines worked mainly by mountaineers pressed into the service, who are, at the end of a few weeks or months, changed for others; and thus, as soon as they learn how to work, they are changed for those again who must be taught. Ibrahim Pasha is, however, a man of some force of character, and has a mind more fit, it is said, for the department of a soldier than that of a statesman. He has for many years led the armies of his father Mohammed Ali, and, in many contested fields, he has won laurels which do not fall on the head of every general. The regions of Upper Egypt, the plains of Arabia, the land of Palestine, the interior of Asia Minor, not to mention Greece and the Isles, have felt the desolation caused by his troops. It is said, however, that the father is the man who plans—that without him as the head, the son will make but a poor business of it; and those who thus consider the matter, infer, that when the father dies, the wide domain which now submits to his sway will fall in pieces, and become the prey of those who may have the power and skill to come in for the spoil. I know not how much ground for these opinions may exist—but one thing we know, that power acquired and perpetuated by crime, usually terminates in the ruin of those who have wielded it.

With respect to his private character, I have not learned much; but part of what I have learned is not much to his credit. It is generally admitted that he is a very intemperate man, and often under the influence of strong drink. The Turks, indeed, are, many of them, fond of ardent spirits, and the law of Mohammed to the contrary, will, notwithstanding, take strong drink when they can get it. When among the ruins of Baalbec, a soldier came, and for some time hung about us. We could not tell what the man wanted, at length he asked for spirits. We had none, and told him so, asking him if he was not ashamed to violate his religion in drinking what it forbids? Oh, he said, he could not read,—he did not know what might be in the Koran. I have at other times seen them drink, and do it with a great apparent relish. From all I see, I am inclined to the opinion that Mohammedanism is fast losing its hold on thousands of its followers, all through these regions, and the same holds good with that corrupt system of Christianity which prevails here. There are an increasing number who are having their eyes opened to see the grossness of its superstition—who see and understand more and more the tricks of the priesthood; and most of them, having no idea of pure, Bible, Protestant Christianity, are likely to plunge into scepticism and downright infidelity. There is need of a tenfold increase of active effort, to spread abroad among these communities the pure word of truth—the knowledge of Christ—the healing, purifying doctrines of the Gospel.

I have heard of several tricks of Ibrahim Pasha's, which show something of the man. It is an object constantly kept in view with him, to increase his army. This is done in great part by seizing persons, mostly young men and boys, and making soldiers of them. This is confined to the Mohammedans. A report got out, however, that he intended to take a number of the Ansairi for soldiers. They occupy a district of the mountains north of Tripoli, and onward to Aleppo. The Ansairi took the alarm, and fled to their fastnesses and strong places in the mountains. His troops, that were in fact sent out as a press-gang to take them, returned with very few—it was a failure. Then did the wily Ibrahim set his trap, and use these few for the bait. He inquired who they were, and being answered that they were Ansairi, he ordered them to be freed, saying that he did not want such—he wanted none for his armies but good Mohammedans. The Ansairi are a mongrel sort of Turks, who have a strange medley of religious notions and practices, which are but partially known, and not, as yet, satisfactorily classed—neither Christians, Mohammedans, nor Pagans, but a little of all. The liberated Ansairi were greatly pleased at their escape, reported it to their brethren, who came down from their mountains, and were taken in great numbers. The person who related the fact saw nearly a thousand of them marched into Aleppo in chains, to be drilled and trained for soldiers.

The most important religious sects in this region are the Greeks, Maronites, Druses, and Mohammedans. The Greeks are divided into the Greek and the Catholic Greek. The Greeks differ from the Catholic or Roman church in several things. One of the chief points of difference is about the procession of the Holy Spirit, which they hold to be from the Son only, and not from the Father and Son, as held by the Roman church, and in which the Protestant churches are mostly agreed with the latter. The Greek church allows the free use of the Scriptures; rejects images in worship; but are madly set on the use of pictures. They reject the authority of the Pope.

The Pope and his missionaries have long made most strenuous efforts to bring the Greek church to an agreement with him and a subjection to his authority. They have for centuries employed missionaries and agents of all sorts to accomplish this. Nor have these efforts been wholly without effect. Throughout the East, where the Greek church exists, there are a portion who have been prevailed on to admit the authority of the Pope, and more or less modify their Greek notions to a nearer conformity to the popish standard. These are called Greek Catholics. They are pretty numerous in many places, and have a good deal of influence all through these regions.

The Maronites take their name from an individual who somehow contrived to be the head of a party, and to leave it his name as an inheritance. They differ, I am told, but very little from the Roman Catholics; hardly as much as the distinctive character of their name would seem to indicate.

It is not yet fully decided what the Druses are. Some assert that they are worshippers of the calf. They have a secret which is imparted only to a part of their people. This part is what may be called the enlightened—the initiated—the knowing—and they, like the freemasons among us, are most careful not to divulge the secret. They form a large part of the population of Mount Lebanon. They appear to be a quiet and well-disposed people, but it is not easy to find out what are their real religious principles and belief. They are charged by some with modifying, or pretending to modify, their opinions to suit those with whom they may be. With a Mohammedan they are Mohammedans, and with a Christian they are almost, if not altogether Christian. But in this they may plead the example of many who have gone before them, and modelled their creed to suit the circumstances of the times.

The Mohammedans are the followers of Mohammed, who lived in the early part of the seventh century, and introduced a new religion. His system borrows some things from Judaism, and some from Christianity, but in many important matters differs from both. Nor is it Paganism, having a most decided aversion to idolatry. It would take more time than I can at present spare, to give a full account of it. It may suffice to say, that Mohammed acknowledged the truth of the Jewish religion—all the Jewish prophets he received as prophets of the Lord.—He admitted that Jesus Christ was a great prophet, yea, the greatest prophet that up to his time had come into the world, and that the religion he taught was the true religion. But he pretended that he himself was sent as the last and greatest of all prophets, and authorized to make such changes in the religion of the Jews and Christians as to justify its being called a new religion—and that his system as set forth in the Koran is now, since he came, the only true religion. He made circumcision a rite in his system. They give much honour to the saints of the Old Testament, the church and the apostles. Their worship is plain. They are wholly opposed to the use of images or pictures. Their chief day of worship is Friday. They pray much, have long fasts, allow a plurality of wives; but in practice this is not as common as many have supposed, and is confined to a comparatively small number.

One of those things that immediately strikes the notice of a traveller in these regions, is the number of monasteries and religious houses, and the peculiarity of their situation. There may be eight or ten counted from Beyroot; and how many may be within the range of twenty or thirty miles, I cannot well conjecture. From the number I passed in going to the top of Lebanon, and returning from the Cedars by Tripoli, I must suppose them to be from one to two hundred. A friend of mine counted sixteen from a place near Nahr-El-Kelb; and a native assured me that from the top of a mountain near Nahr-El-Kelb, nearly one hundred could be seen. The number of houses for men is much greater than those for women. There must of course be a considerable number of monks, but it has occurred to me that the actual number is not as great as the number of houses would seem to indicate; many houses have but a scanty number of inmates. To the inquiry, which I have often made, whether the monastery system is not losing its hold on the public mind? it has generally been answered, that no very perceptible change could be noticed. I am still, however, of the opinion, that the system is not as favourably received as it was in times past; and I shall be greatly disappointed if it does not, and that before long, appear that the system is wearing out. General developments have been made, which show that these houses are seats of corruption and abomination, and that the best interests of the church and of society would be promoted by the system's coming to an end.

Beyroot has been the main seat of the Palestine mission. This has been the usual residence of the missionaries, and here and in the vicinity most of their labours have been expended. Good, no doubt, has been accomplished. It has been, however, a hard soil to cultivate. There are peculiar difficulties to be met with in the character, habits, and especially the ignorance and deep-rooted religious prejudices of the people. The Arabic language, which is the one almost universally spoken here, is a language difficult to acquire so as to use it freely in preaching. Of course, some time must be lost before a missionary can so master the language as to do much in clerical addresses to the people. A part of their efforts have been directed to schools, and in this place have made some progress. They had a number of schools, and were through them operating well on the minds of the people. About three months ago, at the same time that the movement was made against the missionaries in Greece, Smyrna, and the adjacent parts, a similar movement was made here, and the effect has been, the suspension of most of the common schools. I have no doubt that is a part of a wide-spread plan to counteract and break up, or render unavailing, if possible, all missionary operations in and around the Mediterranean. I hope it will fail, and I doubt not but that it will. It may, however, make the missionary work more difficult, and, for a time, less productive of its desired fruit. I have no doubt the hand of the Roman Catholics is in the matter—for in all places and at all times they have greatly withstood missionary efforts.

There is a mission press at this place. It has laboured under great difficulties for the want of many things to make complete their Arabic fonte, and from the impossibility of procuring them here, and the delay in getting them from America or Europe. The distribution of books is one of the ways of operating. Something has been done and is still doing; but the watchful adversary is now opposing this mode of working. Much suspicion is excited against their books, and from time to time we hear of some being burned. In a late tour we had some books with us, but found that in most of the villages the people had been warned against receiving them. All these things are to be expected. It is not to be supposed that the enemy will quietly see the light of the gospel poured upon his dark empire of ignorance and superstition. I should not wonder at an effort being made to add more severe measures than burning books and withdrawing children from school. Indeed, there was an effort made about three months since, to drive the mission families from the mountains, where they had gone to spend the sickly season, and were about opening schools for the summer. The prince of the village, at the instigation, as he admitted, of the Catholic priest, forbade his people to have any intercourse with them, to buy or to sell to them, and threatened to burn down the houses in which the missionaries might reside. The American consul laid the case before the Emeer Busheer, the head prince of the mountains, and claimed for them, as respectable, well-conducted American citizens, who had for health gone to the mountains for a few months, the right of protection usually enjoyed. The Emeer sent an officer and inquired into the case—reversed the orders of the local prince, and assured them of his protection. It was a lesson which I hope the local authorities will not soon forget. The prince who made the attempt to oppress and oppose them had not long before become a Catholic. The Emeer Busheer who protected them is not a Catholic; he was until recently considered a Moslem, but now professes to be a Maronite Christian. Thus the Lord can raise protectors and helpers from whom he pleases—make of stones children to Abraham.

A few nights since we had our attention called to a very pretty spectacle. As it began to grow dark, we observed bonfires lighted in the neighbourhood, and other tokens of festivity. We went to the terrace on the top of the house, which commanded a most extensive view of Mount Lebanon, a view of nearly thirty miles. Along the whole range we could see the bonfires glaring. They looked, on the dark side of the mountain, like stars on the face of the deep blue vault of heaven. I made several attempts to count them; but it was much like counting the stars, which, when a boy, I often attempted to do, but almost always abandoned, before I reached a hundred, from a strange feeling of the difficulty of continuing the enumeration, when the objects lay thus without order. These bonfires were of all sizes, and were often marked by fitful blazes of light, as new fuel was thrown on them. Others would glimmer and expire, while new ones would burst forth, and soon attain to the first magnitude, and then die away, or be subjects of those fitful flashes that indicated the addition of fresh fuel.

On inquiry I learned that this was the feast of the Cross, and that these illuminations and bonfires were in commemoration of the finding of the true cross by the Empress Helena. It is said that on her way to Jerusalem she gave orders that preparation should be made that, in case she was successful in finding the cross, the event might be made known by bonfires, and thus the intelligence be communicated to Constantinople. Much of the religion of these people consists in such things. Their fasts—their attending mass—their worshipping and kissing the pictures—keeping the holy days—and counting their beads, constitute the principal part of their religion. As to the pure service of the heart—faith that worketh by love—regeneration by the Spirit—a new moral nature, effected through the word of truth under the agencies of the Holy Spirit, with most if not all the other elements of real genuine piety, they are almost wholly ignorant. It is, indeed, astonishing that a people, who have the book of God in their hands, should so long remain in utter darkness and ignorance of that spirituality which beams forth from all parts of it. This whole region is yet in the dark ages. Let any one who wishes to form a correct idea of the state of things here, read a well-written account of the middle ages—the preliminary dissertation to Robertson's History of Charles the Fifth, and Hallam on the Middle Ages—and he will have before him the leading features of the state of the church and society now found here. The agreement will not, it is true, hold good in all points, but in the main there is a strong family likeness. May the Lord soon raise up reformers!—and may the truth soon go forth as the light, and his revelation as a lamp that burneth! The reformation in Europe was preceded by many things which betokened the coming of day; and there are many things now which bespeak the approach of a time of light, life, and salvation, for these regions that have long lain waste. The last ten years have witnessed great changes, and we hope the next ten will record still greater.

You have often heard of the Sherock, or Siroc, as it is often spelled. The weather had become much cooler, but this strong south wind has brought it back to its greatest summer heat. It does not usually blow more than two or three days at a time; but we have had it now for four or five days, and it still continues. Many persons complain much of it—"feel it in every nerve." It does not affect me, except as it makes the air warm and oppressive.

Last night, for some unknown cause, connected probably with the Sherock, (which is made to bear the blame of all sorts of evils, and ought in fairness get credit for some good,) we had the most heavy dew at Beyroot that I have seen in Syria. This is the more remarkable, as the dews have usually been very light. It fell copiously soon after sunset, and this morning the earth looked as if a little shower of rain had fallen. There was also this morning, for the first time since I came to Beyroot, a dense fog—one of the most dense I ever saw—this also is to be ascribed to the Sherock, I suppose.

Yesterday I visited the ruins of Dair-El-Kollah, which lie near a village called Bate-Meiry, about three hours' ride from Beyroot. They are of the same style of building as those of Baalbec, but on a much smaller scale. It has most likely been an old temple. The stones are enormous, but not equal to the largest at Baalbec. Most of the wall has been thrown down, but one or two of the lower rows lie in their places. The stone is put together without cement, and the face, like those of Baalbec, made so smooth, that you could not put a knife in the crack. The pillars before the building were large, but not equal to those of Baalbec. They were composed of three pieces; the lower one, about twelve feet long, alone remains standing. The rock is a coarse marble, and I saw a few fragments of granite. These ruins are on the top of the secondary ridge, about half way to the top of Mount Lebanon; a church now stands on part of them.