Lippincotts Magazine, Vol. 22, September, 1878 | Page 2

of internal safety a wall has been built round the top of the
precipice, and at certain points you may look over this parapet, sheer
down some ten or twelve hundred feet, into an abyss fit only to be the
habitation of the owls, bats, and birds of prey which frequent its
solitudes. There seems no resting-place for any wingless creature: thus
the strange birds which haunt the wild recesses of the rocks do so in
perfect security, and their varied cries, along with the roar of the water,
are the only sounds that issue from below. The mysterious gloom is
indescribable, and the look down into the depths fills one with awe; and
yet this singular view is obtained from the very town itself, from the
courts and windows of the houses.
If, however, you would see this wonderful gorge to perfection, you
must go down into it and find your way to the little path which skirts
the stream along a portion of its course. First, descend to the foot of the
rock, where the river rushes out of the ravine with a mighty leap,
forming a cascade some four hundred feet in height, and you are at
once overwhelmed by the grandeur of the scene, and all the poetry in
your nature is stirred. From this point you may proceed for some
distance along the water-side above the fall. Below you roars the
foaming cataract, thundering downward and filling the whole air with
its white spray. Above, on either side, are lofty, precipitous rocks, the
crests of which are crowned by buildings. This is the town as seen from
beneath. No wonder it is called "the City in the Air."
As you advance the chasm narrows. You must walk with caution,
stepping lightly from rock to rock, till presently you come in sight of a
lofty arch, which, spanning the river from side to side, forms a gigantic
natural bridge joining the opposite sides of the gorge. Nothing in
Nature ever moved me more than the first view of that magnificent arch.
With something of the proportions of a cathedral roof it rises above you
in massive grandeur, showing beyond, through the opening, a line of
sky, and then another cavern-like arch. We could not penetrate farther,
and no daylight issued from this second opening. It looked like the
mysterious entrance into an underground world, the portal of Hades,
and in the excitement produced by the novelty of the scene our surprise
could scarcely have been increased had some of the shades from the

realms of darkness glided out from amid the gloom, or if Charon's boat
had appeared to row us over the ferry. Overhead the hawks and eagles
circled round, and with hoarse cries appeared to express their anger at
the intrusion of man into these wilds sacred to them. Altogether, the
scene is full of strange, awe-inspiring beauty. In the Alps and elsewhere
we have, perhaps, beheld grander scenery, but never more impressive.
The town of Constantine has not much to commend it as a place of
residence. It is neither clean nor well built, while sights and smells the
reverse of agreeable are constantly distressing the optic and olfactory
nerves. And yet there are perhaps few places where an artist could find
more charming subjects for his pencil--curious bits of architecture
mingling with Nature in its most beautiful and grandest aspects, fine
touches of brilliant color, and quaint winding streets and
bazaars,--everywhere the picturesque. Filth and confusion, indeed, but
still it is the very confusion that an artist loves.
The people are a mixture of French, Arabs and Jews. Of the first
nothing need be said: they are the same everywhere. The second are
similar in type to the Arabs and Moors of the capital; but the last, the
Jews, do not at all resemble the specimens of the favored race we have
been accustomed to meet with in Europe. They are mostly handsome,
many of them fair, the women being particularly gay and picturesque in
costume, wearing, when in gala-dress, bright-colored, gold-bespangled
scarfs hanging over their heads and shoulders. Altogether, we thought it
the brightest and most graceful female attire we had ever seen. But the
most charming of all are the children. We saw groups of a perfectly
ideal beauty playing upon the doorsteps and dust-heaps--little
rosy-cheeked, fair or auburn-haired things, a striking contrast to the
sallow Arab races. In thus seeing that fair and auburn hair is not at all
uncommon among the Jews of the East, we for the first time
understood why the old masters gave to Christ the complexion
generally found in their paintings. Certainly, the Jewish children of
Constantine would make most lovely studies for the genre painter, and
we all regretted that we could not carry