The people are amiable and cheerful; the gardens fresh and green.

Anthony the Martyr, at the end of the sixth century, drew an enchanting picture of the fertility of the environs, which he compared to paradise.[3] Some valleys on the western side fully justify his description.

The fountain, where formerly the life and gaiety of the little town were concentrated, is destroyed; its broken channels contain now only a muddy stream.

But the beauty of the women who meet there in the evening--that beauty which was remarked even in the sixth century, and which was looked upon as a gift of the Virgin Mary[4]--is still most strikingly preserved.

It is the Syrian type in all its languid grace.
No doubt Mary was there almost every day, and took her place with her jar on her shoulder in the file of her companions who have remained unknown.