II.. I U LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY * n PRINCETON, N. J. Presented by POr. 'Cr\or\'ro , Di ivision.JD.S..1 0 7 Section. 9..^ 9 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/sinaizionOObaus i ind ttiii OR, A PILGRIMAGE THROUGH THE WILDERNESS THE LAND OF PEOMISE. BENJAMIN Aausman, d. d. SEVENTH EDITION. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS PHILADELPHIA: KEFOKMED CHUliCil PUBLICATION BOARD, 907 Arch Street. Entered, according -to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by LINDSAY & BLAKISTON, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. SXERKOTTPED BT J. FAQAN, PRINTED BY JAS. B. RODGERS CO. PREFACE. In the winter and spring of 1857 I made a tour to Egypt; Arabia; Palestine; and Syria; which furnished the occasion for the preparation of this book. It has struggled long to reach the open sea of the reading publiC; and but for the importunity of some whose opinion is entitled to respect; it would have been left to slumber in my Journal and manuscript. It looks like a work of supererogation; if not presumption; to obtrude another volume of Eastern Travels on the publiC; after the many able works which have of late years been written on this subject. It must be admitted; however; that every traveller; if he have any mind of his own; will observe things and places from his own point of vieW; and receive impressions peculiar to himself. For this reason every new work gives new aspects; all furnishing but so many strokes of the descriptive pencil to complete the picture. In addition to this it is natural to expect that a work of this kind will find access to a larger number of readers in the German Eeformed Church; of which the author is a member; than of those (iii) IV PREFACE. prepared by writers of other denominations, though per¬ haps superior to this. For this reason this unpretend¬ ing volume may likewise have an humble mission to perform. No country on the face of the globe ought to possess such a charming interest to the Christian as that which the world’s Eedeemer selected for the field of His labors while in the flesh. Although many excellent works have of late years been written on the Lands of the Bible, comparatively little is known of them by a large portion of professing Christians. Since my return from the East, I have met many persons from almost all re¬ ligious denominations — persons often otherwise intelli¬ gent — who either thought that the Land of Promise and Jerusalem were to be regarded in a mere figurative and spiritual sense, or that their places could no longer be known and visited. To many the sacred localities of the Scriptures possess simply a fabulous meaning, not even as real and tangible as the habitations and resorts of the gods in heathen mythology. Where is there a school geography that pays half as much attention to the only little country on earth, which is sacred to the Christian, as to others whose only merit is their com¬ mercial influence or prominence in war ? Scholars are taught the name and history of every river, province, and capital of other lands, whilst they scarcely know the difference between Jerusalem and Jericho, between the Nile and the Jordan, between the Sea of Galilee and PREFACE. V the Mediterranean. Even in Sunaay Schools, sacred geography receives by far too little attention. The result of all this is the prevalence of a mythical theory, practically little better than that of Strauss, which ascribes a fabulous character to the local allusions of the Bible. In the estimation of some the Eeligioh of the Cross would seem more divine and miraculous, if Egypt had no river, Arabia no Bed Sea, Sinai no moun¬ tains, and Palestine no Jerusalem or Jordan. It is just the reverse. To see or read about Bethlehem, and Uazareth, Jerusalem, and Cethsemane, enables you better to realize that the Saviour became human, and that His sacred feet trod the earth, and His eyes looked upon objects, as ours tread and look. In this respect travel¬ ling in Palestine differs from that in other countries. Here a visit to places hallowed by their connection with sacred persons and events, inspires you with certain devout emotions, which interweave themselves with your spiritual being. In Bible lands the traveller’s im¬ pressions affect the heart as well as the mind. Travel¬ ling here becomes an experience, which ever afterwards links your meditations on the Bible and its persons, with certain sacred places. When you think of the different periods in our Saviour’s life, they will at once carry your mind to Bethlehem, Nazareth, Capernaum, or Jerusalem, and your knowledge of these places will enable you more vividly to understand and enjoy certain parts of the sacred narrative. 1* VI PREFACE. This work makes no pretensions to critical research. It aims to instruct by combining the devotional with the descriptive element. It says many things which to some readers may seem trite and stale, from having read them in other works. I crave the forbearing indulgence of such, while I attempt to instruct the many who have never read a work on the East before. The book pro¬ fesses to explain and illustrate the allusions of the Scrip¬ tures to customs and places, showing how many of the former continue in vogue to the present, and how many of the latter can still be identified ; how they correspond and how they differ from their ancient appearances. It 0 aims to show how prophecy has passed into history, and to what extent; what character Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Ishmael, Esau, and Amalek possessed then, and what now. The reader will be surprised to find — though strange that he should — in how many respects the mountains and valleys, fountains and rivers, villages and cities, places and people, costumes and customs, are just as the Bible represents them to have been from two to four thousand years ago. As footnotes and special references encumber the reader, I will here acknowledge my indebtedness to the following works : Biblical Researches in Palestine, and the Adjacent Regions, by Edward Eobinson, D. D. LL. D. ; Narrative of the United States Expedition to the River Jordan and the Dead Sea, by W. F. Lynch, U. S. N. ; The Land and the Book, by W. M. Thomson, PREFACE. VH D. D. ; Sinai and Palestine, by Arthur Penrhyn Stan¬ ley, M. A. ; An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, by Edward Wdliam Lane ; A Popular Account of the Ancient Egyptians, by Sir J. Gardner Wilkinson, D. 0. L., F. E. S., etc.; Ancient Monasteries of the East, by the Hon. Eobert Curzon, Jun. ; Travels in the Holy Land, Egypt, etc,, by Wil¬ liam Eae Wilson, LL. L., F. S.A. ; Five years in Da~ 7nascus, by Eev. J. L. Porter, A. M., F.E. S.L. ; The Desert of Sinai, by Horatius Bonar, D. D. ; Peise in das Gelohte Land, von E. W. Schultz ; Peise in das Morgenland, von Dr. Gotthilf Heinrich von Schubert ; Sinai und Golgotha, von Friederich Adolph Strauss; Egypt, Ethiopia, and Sinai, by Dr. Eichard Lepsius. The illustrations are designed to give the reader a clearer idea of some of the places spoken of in this book. The valley of Er-Pahah, as seen from the con¬ vent of Sinai, gives a view of the valley in which the Hebrews were encamped during the giving of the Law. Sinai is the mountain sloping up to the left of the ruins and the cypress trees; its top is not included in the cut. Ancient Jerusalem has the whole of Mount Zion covered with buildings, down to its base in the valleys of Jehoshaphat and Hinnom. Modern Jerusalem has no buildings on the southern slope of it, showing the changes which the city has undergone in this respect. Both views are taken from the south-east, from which the reader has a view of Gethsemane on the right of the city. Immediately at the base of the hill, is the Kedron. The Vlll PREFACE. large building near tbe edge of tbis bill above tbe Kedron, inside of tbe wall, is tbe temple of Solomon in tbe old city, and tbe mosque of Omar at tbe same place in tbe new. Both these cuts include a view of tbe base of Olivet, tbe valleys of Kedron, Jebosbapbat, and part of tbe valley of Hinnom, as well as tbe whole of Jerusalem. Tbe Garden of Gethsemane is seen from a short distance north of it, near tbe Kedron, and gives a true sketch of tbe old gnarly obve trees on tbis sacred spot. Chambersburg, Pa. December 1860. 40 ♦ PREFACE TO THE FIFTH EDITION. Books, like men. are subject to various tbrtimes. Some are backed to pieces by Keartless critics ; others furnish a mine in which the mw erudite truth-seekers quarry the precious metal and separate it iTom dross for their own and others’ use and enjoyment. Others, nzain. tind a place at the fireside, where parents and children greet them as welcome companions in their happy home circle. Or, per- hans. the book is allowed to build its own hearth, around whose peaceful retreat increasing groups do continually gather. It be¬ comes a personality, around which kindly readers laugh and weep, praise and pray with the author. The critics, with few exceptions, have treated me with a kindly, perhaps too indulgent or partial a hand. As mr miners, my bix)k needled none, inasmuch as its pre¬ cious meral lies mostly on the sitrface. But with a goodly number of fireside readers have I been honored. My humble book has had a place on the mantel, which I would rather have it occupy than one on the centre-table, or in the libraries of the learned few. (dfteu have I felt like one who is allowed "Arouad his lire an evening group to draw. And tell of all he felt and all he saw.” One of the religious perio«iicals of Xew York contained a critical notice of the murth edition of this book from the pen of the late Dr. SroLLAiA^r. To me, I confess, a very pleasing notice, because wricteu by such a good and learueil man. In it he stiys: “When I am weary of the dust of the street, and wish to get away and tbrgec the ‘storms in a tea-kettle’ which howl around one’s •airs. I read a good book. But inasmuch as every btxk has au end, PEEFACE TO THE FIFTH ET)ITIO^'. I do as little children do when they have something veiA" good to eat: I read the book sparingly, not too much at a time, lest I get through and lose the pleasant taste so soon. When the storm howls again, and blows the snow and sleet against my chamber window, I will faithfully accompany this traveller on his journey. To those of us who may not live till the winter storms shall come again, I wish, as I do to myself, a journey still more blessed, to that Canaan from which only One ever came to bring us ‘glad tidings of great joy.’ ” Not long after, the dear man made his last journey to the “better country.” To all who in any wise have spoken or written kindly of this book, and to those who have read or may read it with friendly feel¬ ings, I tender my thanks. May He for whose glory it was written, bless its pages to all its readers, and lead them safely through their earthly pilgrimage to the Jerusalem above. For, as St. Jerome saith: “That which is truly commendable is, not to have visited Jerusalem, but to have lived a godly life.” B. BAUSMAN Readixg, Pa. CONTEXTS CHAPTES I. ?Ho» !S'A-?Lza TO . . . 13 CHAPTER II, ?30M to Alzxa^ria, . . 25 CHAPTER III.. Caibo . 37 CHAPTER IT. Tim pYB^iJiDs — T3s Xilb- . 54 CHAPTER T. Eaoii EuTpt to tsb Rzd Ska . . . 82 CHAPTER TI. ?aoM THE Rsr 5ea to Mgcttt Sittai. . 101 CHAPTER TII. Foom JHhtst 5i:5^ai to Eziojr-^jSEKa . 144 ;IX) X CONTENTS. CHAPTER VIII. From Ezion-Geber to Petra and Beersheba . ..^.171 CHAPTER IX From Beersheba to Jerusalem . 202 CHAPTER X. Jerusalem . 222 CHAPTER XI. Jerusalem and its Surroundings . 244 ¥ CHAPTER XII. The Wilderness of Judea — Jericho — the Jordan . 282 CHAPTER XIII. The Bead Sea — Bethlehem . 309 CHAPTER XIV. Jerusalem — Bethel — Salem . 336 CHAPTER XV. The Well of Jacob — Samaria . 353 CHAPTER XVI. EsDRiELON, OR THE VaLLEY OF JeZREEL . . . . 373 CHAPTER XVII. Nazareth and Mount Carmel . . . . . 384 CHAPTER XVIII. The Home of Mary and her Child 408 CONTENTS XI CHAPTER XIX. A VIEW FROM Tabor — The Sea of Tiberias . 421 CHAPTER XX. The Sea of Galilee — The Waters of Merom — Cesarea Philippi . 449 CHAPTER XXI. The Anti-Lebanon — Damascus — Baalbeck . 474 CHAPTER XXII. Ccele-Stria — Crossing the Lebanon — Beirout — Cities of THE Sea-coast . 501 CHAPTER XXIII. Homeware bound . 524 LIST OF Modern Jerusalem . Frontispiece. Encamping Scene . Page 89 Er-Kahah . . . 144 Ancient Jerusalem . 250 Garden of Gethsemane . 265 Damascus . 478 (xii) A PILGRIMAGE TO THE LAND OF PROMISE. CHAPTER I. /rora jlnpItB tn BMnltn. On the 6th of February, when the sun was already as hot as that of a Pennsylvania June, we took our scanty luggage to the wharf at Naples, with a view of embarking for Malta. Here we were accosted by a surly official, de¬ manding a fee, or else he would examine our baggage. We told him to proceed, which he had sense enough not to do, and left us with growling disappointment. After procuring tickets at the health-office, our half-clad boat¬ men paddled us out through the narrow openings left between the vessels floating in the bay, to the French steamer bound for Malta. At 3 P. M., the captain of the Orontes mounted the paddle-box and gave the word to start. She floated out into the bay, smoothly and gently as a gondola. How pleasures brighten as they take their flight ! A little world of natural beauty spread before the vision when we got out into the bay, growing prettier still as it receded into the distance. The vapor-crested 2 (13) 14 THE BAY OF NAPLES. Vesuvius raised its heaving cone into the clear sky. Ca- maldoHo, and other convents capping neighboring moun¬ tains, looked down upon ITaples with a Benedictine mien. Baiae, Puteoli, Becina, Portici, Castellamare, and Sor¬ rento, all clustered around Naples, like children pluck¬ ing the robe of their mother. The city spread crescent¬ like around the bay, taking it into a half embrace, and sloping up gradually to'wards the hilly horizon. The houses turned whiter as they receded, and soon resem¬ bled huts of snow ; the hay assumed the color of deepest blue ; the sweet landscape in the rear melted away in soft green hues, while here and there a cloud-shadow floated over it. The Isles of Capri and Ischia rose out of the blue bay like 'sentinels at the door of this earthly Elysium. As day faded away into night, the pillar of cloud on Vesuvius became a pillar of Are, when dark¬ ness and distance soon hid from our view one of the most charming sights the eye of man has ever beheld — the bay of Naples and its environs. Going southward, we passed in sight of Stromboli, an active volcano on one of the Liparian isles. The next morning we reached Messina, on the eastern coast of Sicily. At the entrance of the Strait of Messina, we passed the famous Scylla and Charybdis, so much dreaded by the ancients. The former is a small rock projecting into the sea on the Italian coast. Adjoining it is a small village to which it gave its own name. The latter, immediately opposite to Scylla, in the middle ot the Strait, is what once may have been a whirlpool, but no longer deserves that name. It is little more than an easy welling of the water, an earnest stirring of the sur¬ face, over which our boat passed without any perceptible labor or peril. Any one that comes down to this rock MESSINA. 15 and whirlpool with his school-boy notions, cr such as he derived from classical descriptions of a boiling whirlpool, which will send vessels spinning to the bottom, or dash them on the rock, will find, by the time he gets through, that there is more poetry than peril in the whole thing. Our boat tarried a few hours at Messina, one of the largest commercial cities of Sicily. Its situation is very romantic. It spreads back from the sea on a rising ground, while the mountains enclose and tower high above it. The harbor was full of vessels, taking cargoes of figs and oranges, which grow here in great abundance. The American frigate Constitution was lying at anchor off the city, with the stars and stripes proudly fioating and fiapping from her mast-head. I never could feel so sentimentally patriotic — or patriotically sentimental — as to be flung into ecstacies by ‘‘the stars-and-stripes” eloquence for which our country is so famous. But the sight of our national ensign, in a far-ofi* sea, reminded me that, even there, the protecting wing of the American eagle was spread over me; and I felt a sense of home contentment and a touch of national pride, such as I had never known or felt before. At noon, the band of the frigate performed several national airs, which the soft breeze from the orange fields wafted over the placid waters, sounding like words of hope and peace from the home-land. A few of us hired a small boat and went ashore. We sallied through the principal streets, visited the cathedral, and found that the general appearance of the city was like that of most Italian cities, where Art and filth leave much to praise and blame. Walking along the wharf, we passed a poor Sicilian who had met with an accident, which caused him to bleed most profusely. My pity 16 A NARROW ESCAPE. being excited, I looked at this man, while my friends went on board a merchant vessel from Boston, to see the captain. After losing sight of them, I attempted to follow over a long swinging plank, which was laid from shore to ship. When I reached midway, the plank com¬ menced swinging, my feet slipped, knees smote together, head reeled, and could neither advance nor retreat. I had often hung on capering creek-planks, swinging over the water, but never knew what it was to prepare one’s- self for a plunge to the bottom of the sea. As I looked down into the deep water, in a fearful plight, a voice called to me in broken English, from below: “Do you wish to get down, sir ?” The next moment, my unknown deliverer had me by -the hand and led me back, quickly gave me a parting grasp, with a smiling “good-bye,” and hurried off, scarcely giving me time to thank him. Often since have I had grateful thoughts of that stranger, and wished to learn his name. So our Merciful Father sends unknown helpers when we are in peril, a messenger or “ angel of the Lord,” to do his fatherly pleasure. Our steamer departed in the middle of the afternoon, and towards evening we passed Rhegium, on the coast of Calabria, at the south of Italy, where Paul tarried a day on his way to Rome. Acts 28 : 3. In 1783, the town was almost entirely destroyed by an earthquake. Of late years it has been partly rebuilt again, and now numbers about 17,000 inhabitants. Dense clouds and heavy showers hid Mt. -®tna, which we passed without getting even a glimpse of it. So too with Syracuse, like¬ wise a stopping place of Paul, which night and a squall of rain concealed. Acts 27 : 12. The ancient city had over a million of inhabitants, the modern one only 10,000. THE ISLAND OF MALTA. 17 The next morning we awoke in the harbor of Malta. When I came on deck the hare hills of the rock-bound isle were just bathed with the soft light of the rising sun. No trees could he seen, only houses and rocks, with here and there a green patch of grass or grain in a small dell. It was the Sabbath-day, and methought I had never seen such a pleasing image of Sahhath-repose as this island, way down here in this rough sea, whose firm heights were greeted by the first rays of the rising sun. While waiting to be taken ashore, and seated on deck, I read the account of Paul’s visit to Melita, whose name has since then been changed into Malta. W^e took up our quarters in Yaletta, the chief town of the island. The shops and stores were all closed, the hells sent their plaintive peals from every spire, and a devout-looking throng wended their way to the sanc¬ tuary, already at an early hour. We attended service at the Scotch Presbyterian church. A young Caledonian preached an edifying discourse, after which the commu¬ nion of the Lord’s Supper was administered. A general invitation was given to all present, and under the cir¬ cumstances we felt greatly desirous to commune with them. As the services proceeded, we found that tokens were demanded at the table. Of course only the mem¬ bers had tokens, so that while all believers present were cordially invited, only members were permitted to com¬ mune, — a species of fraternity very common in these days of sectarian strife, which has the wmrd but not the power of the Catholic spirit. But withal, a most refresh¬ ing day of rest this was, contrasting very pleasantly with the Sabbaths we had spent at Naples during the month before. Malta is but a small island, about sixty miles in cir- 2* B i 18 POSITION OF MALTA. cumference, and derives its main importance from its peculiar position in the Mediterranean. It forms a kind of gateway between the Occident and the Orient. To this it is mainly indebted for its numerous captures. Its position has made it a bone of contention among Eu¬ ropean nations for many centuries. After passing through the hands of the Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthagenians, and Romans, it was taken by the Arabs, A. D. 870, who $ introduced their language, which is still an ingredient of the Maltese dialect. In 1120 the Normans took it ; after them successively the Germans, French, and Spaniards. In 1530 Charles Y. gave it to the Order of the Knights of St. John, from whom Napoleon I. took it in 1798, on his way to Egypt. -And in 1800 the English took pos¬ session of it. On its rock-coast, indented by natural harbors, the waves of the sea and war have lashed and broken for many centuries. Originally it was a naked mass of rocks. The most of the soil was brought hither on ships from Sicily. The fields are terraced off* into small plots, hedged in by high walls, so as to hide vegetation, and give to the island a most bleak and verdureless appearance. I found no trees, save the Carub, which bears a small pulpy tartish fruit, and the prickly pear, which looks like our cactus grown to the size of a peach tree. The stones are soft, and of a whitish-grey color. They dress them for building purposes with broad-axes, cutting them off* in chips as if they were blocks of wood. The climate was pleasant, quite June-like. A soft sea-breeze kept fanning the island all day long. In summer it is said to be very hot. The Maltese are a branch of the Arabic stock, but their habits have been modified by their governors. Tho V HABITS OF THE MALTESE. 19 population is a mixture of the most diversified national ingredients, and the streets exhibit an odd compound of costumes. The Turk in petticoat-breeches, his brow wreathed with a clumsy turban ; the swarthy Nubian, with his red, tasselled cap ; the tidy hair-be-greased, red- coated English soldier; Italians, Arabs, Russians, and Americans, in short, all nations are huddled together here in peaceful confusion. My nearest neighbor was a huge Turk, who, like a genuine nabob, swung his gaudy attire in lofty style. The females have uniform head¬ dresses, consisting of a large black silk scarf, worn over the head and shoulders, and gathered into folds at one side, which imparts a sombre aspect to the streets and churches on Sundays. Partly from taste and partly from poverty, they still live in happy ignorance of the luxuries of more civilized life. The more fortunate ride on a sort of litter, composed of tw’O shafts, with one end on high, heavy wheels, and the other hung to a horse’s back. A heavy cab is hung on straps in the middle, which swings like a ship on a troubled sea, while the driver runs nimbly along the side, leading the animal at a rope. Another vehicle for more common use, is a small dray on high wheels, with a mat spread over it, on which passengers sit in Eastern style. A short time previous a few omnibuses had been imported from England to run between the larger villages — a novelty which made quite a stir among the Maltese, few of whom had ever been off* of the island. Say what you will, our English cousins are politically and socially more nearly akin to us than any other na¬ tion. They have their prickly repulsive points, their exclusive insularity ; but coming from a government where gunpowder plots are things of daily occurrence, 20 ST. PAUL'S DAY IN MALTA. and impending anarchy a thing known and read of ah men (as we had found it at Naples), the flag of Britain, and the air of substantial security found in all her do¬ minions, are a grateful change. Nowhere, since I had left the soil of England, had I inhaled such an atmosphere of home comfort as on this island. The moment I put my foot ashore, I felt satisfied that I was where the rulers and the ruled would not be likely to change places very soon. What a difierence in governments ! Italy, with a most salubrious climate, has many thousand acres of as fine land as the sun ever shone upon, unploughed, unsown, and unreaped, while her famishing beggars have neither bread nor labor. And here, on this little heap ^ of rocks, made arable with the soil of a neighboring island, live and labor one hundred and fifty thousand people, thrifty, contented, and comparatively happy. The day after our arrival was St. Paul’s day, — a general holiday. The main streets were densely crowded with Maltese, from every part of the island, who, from early morning, hurried merrily into Yaletta on their drays, donkeys, and litters. Their large bells are seldom rung, but rapidly hammered upon. This day they kept up an incessant ding-dong clattering and . almost deafening noise. In St. Paul’s church an ecclesiastic preached to a large crowd, who seemed to listen with devout atten¬ tion. I could not understand the sermon, but there was a ferocity in his voice and gestures, that put all devo¬ tion at defiance. In the meanwhile the streets resounded with the firing of crackers and pistols, for the edification of the less devout. In the evening the Catholic portions of the city were illuminated. Two gothic arches spanned St. Paul’s street, hung with blazing festoons ; a dashing evolution of fireworks from these arches, spitting and CATACOMBS OF CIVITA VECCHIA. 21 whirling out blazing forms, closed the ceremonies of the day. Near the southeastern end of the island we found the remains of an ancient building, the castle of Creni, which may possibly have belonged to its primitive settlers. Large blocks of stone are rudely piled up, while some have been displaced by earthquakes and other causes. At Civita Vecchia we entered a small cell, which is honored by many as the abode of Paul while he tarried here. Being furnished with tapers, we were led down a dark stairway into the catacombs. These underground cities, which we also had found at Rome and Naples, all seem cast over the same mould. Those at Rome extend many miles under the ground, and have so many crooked alleys branching out, that strangers once lost in them, or having their light put out, have no hope of ever getting to daylight again. We stooped through the low narrow passages ramifying in different directions. Here and there shelves and coffins were cut out of the rocky sides, where the silent tenants of the sun¬ less city once slept. Strange life some of those poor ancients must have led, whose dead were never buried out of their sight ; — the living and the dead dwelling together. Tradition has fixed upon a small bay on the eastern coast of the island, as the place where Paul was ship¬ wrecked. He is said to have first landed on a small island in the mouth of the bay, near which the ship had stranded. I saw nothing that looked like the “ certain creek with a shore, into W'hich they were minded, if it were possible, to thrust in the ship;” unless it might have been the narrow channel between the small island and the shore. This, too, might be the place where two 22 SCENE OF Paul’s shipwreck. seas met. Acts 27. There are rocks enough above and belojv water to wreck any ship during a storm. He says they were driven up and down in Adria,” which perhaps means the Adriatic. And so the island of Meleda, in this sea, has come to claim the honor of having received Paul from the wreck. Malta is dry and rocky, has no snakes or vipers, had none in the time of Pliny. Meleda is famous for being wet and woody, and might naturally furnish the viper that “ fastened on his hand.” But this is about all that can be said in its favor. Fevers and other malignant diseases are found at both places. Still, I think the evidence preponderates in favor of Malta. I felt happy in believing that my eyes rested on the sea that bore and broke his ship. Listen¬ ing to the roar of the foam-crested waves as they broke on the rough coast, methought I could see the crew light¬ ening the ship, and cast the wheat into the sea, — some cast themselves first into the sea and swam to land, “ the rest, some on boards, and some on broken pieces of the ship,” drifted ashore, two hundred and seventy-six in all, — and finally Paul, almost exhausted, coming out of the sea, dripping and trembling with cold. Acts 27. In winter a stormy sea is still very common in this part of the Mediterranean, as I afterwards learned from bitter experience. After tarrying three months, Paul took pas¬ sage in an Alexandrian ship ; showing that then, as now, there was communication between Alexandria and Malta. Then, as now, ships were known by certain names. The name of his ship was Castor and Pollux. Sailing ves¬ sels are more at the mercy of the waves than steamers ; so this ship “had wintered in the isle,” till the sea would calm into a safer mood. They sailed north, touched at Syracuse, where they spent three days, and then passed I \ PAULATROME. 23 round to Rhegium; then a south wind, which usually blows in the spring, helped them on to Puteoli, near Naples, in sight of Baiae, the pride of the voluptuous Romans. Here they found brethren, and were desired to tarry with them seven days.” A few piers still mark the site of the old Roman wharf at Naples, perhaps part of that on which Paul landed. Then, after seven da;y 3 he went on his way towards Rome, a prisoner among pri¬ soners, through Eden-like plains, teeming with luxury and lust. Part of our journey from Rome to Naples was over the old Appian Way, which they travelled. At Appii Fo¬ rum ‘‘ the brethren came to meet” them. A gloomy soli¬ tary inn at present marks this spot. It is in the heart of the Pontine Marshes, whose deadly swamps fill the air with poisonous exhalations. But few persons venture hither, and these hasten away again as soon as they have at¬ tended to their fiocks. Those that remain look sallow and sickly. Twenty-five miles beyond this is Cisterna, built on the ruins of the Three Taverns. Forty miles further tiiey reached Rome ; a long walk they had after such an exhausting sea voyage. Feeble by nature, and fatigued by a tedious journey, the prisoner must have made a weak and harmless appearance, in the sight of the proud glutted Romans. Poor man, he felt weak and alone in his chains ; but when he saw the brethren, he “ thanked God and took courage.” Rome then looked prouder and more powerful than now. The country along the Appian Way, now mostly deserted, was strewn with the villas of wealthy Romans. No steamer then rode over the swelling sea ; but the grass, foliage, and sky of Italy, looked as pretty then as now. The waters of the sea were as blue as now. Paul saw the same islands we saw. His ship rocked like ours, 24 APOSTOLIC TRIALS, and the sequel proved that he and his companions were made of like stuff with ourselves. For fourteen days they had eaten nothing, for the very good reason that the swinging of the ship had kept them sea-sick all the while. At length he had to press food upon them for their “health.” I have had a lesson in this kind of “ fasting,” which aids me greatly in appreciating the narrative. The steward might bring the choicest dish, and entreat me to take a little to keep up strength ; but the hare sight of it would provoke an ill temper in stomach and spirit. Only by dint of a mighty effort could the start be made. Thus Paul sailed, suffered, swam, and walked towards Rome, as every mortal has to do who carries about with him a frail human body ; but an imposing character after all, towering high above his cotemporaries in true greatness. Where is there an emperor or philosopher with a name or fame like Paul’s ? Rome, with her ancient greatness, has toppled over ; her annals now only “ point a moral or adorn a tale,” while he wrought at an empire which has outlived and shall continue to outlive earth’s proudest kingdoms. EMBARK FOR EGYPT. 25 CHAPTER II. ^rnm tn aUxanhin. ‘‘ Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.” Wc were on our way to Alexandria, but it so happened that the sea rolled across our path. For two long days the English and French steamers were due, always coming yet never came. One was due on the Sabbath. Should we start on a voyage on the Lord’s day ? Beneath the wings of “Sweet Home,” we should say, no. But this is rather a dreary island when one is done with it. And we cannot leave unless the boat leaves, and to loiter and lounge lazily about here for weeks until some chance ship may happen to pass along on a week day, when a few weeks’ detention might spoil much of a man’s jour¬ ney in the East, was rather a serious test of our Sabbatic fidelity. But the non-arrival of the boat relieved us of further trouble on this point. On the following evening we received word that the small French steamer Valetta, which had lain in the harbor a few days, would start for Alexandria. The night was dark as Erebus. The bark that took us out on board stirred up the phosphorescent water. Every beat of the oars rolled off a luminous '' wave, so that our course left a fiery trail on the sea. The water seemed surcharged with phosphorus, which the stirring of the oars and paddle-wheels spun over tlie sea in gleaming sheets of light, that looked unearthly in a 26 UNPLEASANT SEA VOYAGE. the dark night. At ten, the creaking of the machinery commenced, by which time I had firmly fixed myself into a narrow crib, to keep in readiness for any disposi¬ tion the sea might make of me. Gently it cradled me to sleep. Next morning I arose well pleased, for I had made up my mind to get sick. But walking up the stairway the sea swelled, the boat suddenly rose and fell, and there it had me. I staggered up and down the rocking deck, firmxly bent to brave the sea, at all hazards ; but again I was defeated. I could not get to the table for three days and a half, until we disembarked. Long days and nights those were through which I pined and sighed, listening to the roar of the sea and the tread of the sailors on deck. And a precious time it was to meditate upon Paul’s stormy voyage to Malta, to which I did ample justice, in the meanwhile wondering whether I could not get back to it, or to some other spot of dry ground which would not rock and roll me into such tor¬ ments. A young merchant from Hamburg was in the same state-room with myself, whom I did not learn to know until we had reached Cairo. This shows how un¬ companionable a man is when in such a state. Long shall I remember that villainous Yaletta, rolling like a coffee roaster in the hands of a diligent woman. On the morning of the fourth day, the low land of Egypt hove in sight, wLich cured me at once. In a moment I was on deck with spy-glass in hand, healthy and happy, eager to get a glimpse of the first object that met the view. Tall columns, like furnace chimneys, with large wheels hung perpendicularly to the outside, we dis¬ covered to be windmills. The country receded far as file eye could reach, into a low, flat, sandy plain. My neart beat with expectant joy at the sight of Pompey’s ALEXANDRIA. 27 pillar, the stately way-mark of the mariners for more than two thousand years; and when I saw” the minarets of Alexandria, I felt that some of my long-cherished dreams were about to be realized. The harbor contained a large number of vessels from ^ different nations ; most of them flourished small red flags from their mast-heads, with the crescent and a star, reminding us that we were entering upon Mohammedan dominions. Our boat weighed anchor opposite the quay, which soon poured a swarthy mob of boisterous, turbaned boatmen after us. These raised a fearful commotion, all screaming and shouting at the top of their voices, clamoring and scolding to get nearest the boat, snarling and snapping as if ready to devour each other, fisting about most ferociously, until the noise became almost deafening. They barked their deep gutterals at us, reminding one of a set of hungry wolves, trying to get a frightened man from a tree. We descended into the bark of one of these yelping beings, to go ashore. In the meanwhile a regi¬ ment of a score or two of donkeys, with blear-eyed half- naked drivers, had assembled on the shore to escort us to the hotel. The captain of our little party, Mr. C., from Boston, possessing the rare gift of making men of all tongues understand English, told them w'e wanted none. We pushed our way through the street, with the whole crowd of men and animals tightly around us, all screaming ‘‘ Howajee,” “good donkey,” and whipping them on to us. We were separated in the scufile, each pushing and kicking his way slowly along. Looking around for my comrades, I saw two Arabs seizing Mr E., one at each leg, and carrying him, nolens volens^ over the noisy crowd, to set him on their donkey. The poor "ellow blushed and blowed, scolded them in good Eng- 28 IMPRESSIONS OF THE ORIENT. lish, and pommelled their cushioned heads with all the power of his little tailor fists ; hut have him they would, and have him they did. Just then two soldiers came along, armed with a club and gun, wdth which they pitched into these vagabonds, and soon made them drop their unwilling prize. His fall was even more abrupt than his elevation. This dispersed the pestering crew, and being left to go our way without further trouble, we soon reached the Frank quarter. This consists of a large square in the upper part of the city, where we were cleverly housed in the Hotel de I’Europe. Many are the charms and defects, comforts and dis¬ comforts, which an Oriental city possesses for a man from the western world. ' True, our reception on this threshold of the Orient was somewhat boisterous, but this was soon forgotten amid the rush of novelty. One is pre¬ pared to be pleased with the most outlandish and unre¬ fined sights, for the mere sake of seeing them. The streets swarming with odd costumes and no costumes ; the gay bazaars or shops in dark narrow streets, roofed over, each shop or store being like a large cupboard, where the bronze-complexioned salesman sits tailor-fashion in the door, through which he sells to persons in the street, he the meanwhile smoking his two-yard long pipe, with another by his side, for the entertainment of the next customer ; the unknown and unseen females rust¬ ling by with shuffling tread, in their inflated balloon-like dresses, which, but for two eyes blinking through little holes in their veils, might be taken for bales of silk or white linen endowed with self-locomotion ; others wrapped in coarse blue cloth, filthy as the earth, with half-blind scabby children astride a shoulder, and holding on to the head ; the crowds of solemn-looking street-loungers, wdth pompey’s pillar. 29 a tight heavy-clothed red cap, and a thick twisted white cloth wrapped around the temple, called a turban, petti¬ coat-breeches, tight roundabout, sometimes a scarlet robe folded round them ; then comes a lady astride a donkey, folded in gorgeous silks, with a half-naked driver, scolding a passage through the crowd ; long lines of camels laden with large skins and kegs of water, threading the streets in single file, high over the sea of thick white heads ; all these combine to form a scene of unimaginable interest. Mounting our donkeys, we rode out to Pompey’s pillar, which is in the old part of the city. The way thither led over piles of debris, and along streets of squalid huts, the abode of disease-brooding filth, famine, and nakedness. Here and there were clumps of palm trees, whose tops sighed mournfully over the grave of the departed city. What a world of pride and passion, of long forgotten glory rotted and dead, lies buried in this tomb of the past ! The pillar stands on an elevation, which overlooks a vast district of land and sea. It is composed of one solid block of red granite, ninety feet high and nine feet in diameter. All around it are mounds and hills, covering the ruins of Egypt’s great¬ ness. A half-exhumed house here, and- a broken column there, remind one that he is walking over the monuments of one of the greatest nations of antiquity. On our return we passed the famous obelisk called Cleopatra’s Needle, likewise composed of red granite. The hiero¬ glyphics on one side have been partly worn away, per¬ haps by the action of the Sirocco, blowing in upon it from the desert for 3500 years. Another colossal obe- ’isk lies prostrate near by. One of these was erected sixteen centuries before our era. 3* 30 HISTORY OF ALEXANDRIA. The modern Alexandria bears little resemblance to the ancient ; many of its leading merchants and traders are Europeans. The arrangement and aspect of the city are not purely Oriental. Alexander the Great founded the old city, to form a connecting link between the East and the West; and this office it still performs, especially since India has been opened to European trade. The old city had 600,000 inhabitants ; the present one has 40,000. Here the famous Alexandrian library was founded, containing 700,000 volumes, and which helped to make Alexandria the centre of ancient learning. In the second century before Christ, the Old Testament was here translated into Greek, — a version called the Septuagint, — which conveyed the word of God to learned heathen, and prepared the way for the coming of Christ. “A certain Jew, named Apollos, an eloquent man and mighty in the Scriptures, was horn at Alexandria.” Acts 18 : 24. Clemens and Origin founded catecheti¬ cal schools here, in which scientific Christian theology was first taught. Here, too, we find Athanasius, one of the greatest champions of the early Church. When Amrou took it in 640, he said : I have taken the great city of the West, which contains 4000 palaces, 4000 baths, 400 theatres, 12,000 shops, and contains 40,000 tributary Jews.” But her ancient glory has departed. Long since the desolation foretold by the prophet has come upon her. Son of man, wail for the multitude of Egypt, and cast them down, even her, and the daugh¬ ters of the famous nations, unto the nether parts of the earth, with them that go down into the pit.” Ezekiel 32 : 18. Her commerce and trade are, however, re¬ viving, and the present posture of things in the East would seem to assign her an important position for the future. JOURNEY ALONG THE NILE. 31 It may be of interest to the reader to know the price of living in a first-class hotel of Alexandria. Boarding, f 2.40 a day, 24 cents for service, and 12 cents for light, no matter whether you use any or not. And most tra¬ vellers would cheerfully give a servant another shilling or two to brush the hungry fleas away while they at¬ tempt to sleep. I had hoped that a house entertaining most of the India passengers, would protect one against vermin. The motion of the sea which followed me into my land-berth, kept the room rocking and swinging, which, added to the flea-scourge, was not easily borne by one so much in need of rest. Feh. 21. The next morning, our donkeys ambled with a quick pace towards the depot, and soon the train dashed us along the Nile over the fertile plains of Egypt. The shrill whistle sounded strangely along the banks of this ancient river. Coming to an arm of the Nile, the train was put on a bridge ; but instead of crossing over it, the train stood still and the bridge* crossed. It was partly of iron, with only one span finished, which was so made as to move from one bank to the other, carrying the trains across by means of a stationary engine. On our way we passed a village where a vast multi¬ tude had assembled, and a caravan was approaching, three miles long, all on a pilgrimage to the tomb of a Moslem saint at this place. At another town, a medley procession came out, celebrating the nuptials of some happy couple. Some played with timbrels, dancing and singing before the crowd. 2 Sam. 6 : 14. The country teemed with luxuriant vegetation — wheat, flax, beans, oats, and tall grass. Small flocks of cattle were grazing in all directions. As they have no fences here, they generally tie their cattle to wooden pins, 32 PYRAMIDS OF CAIRO. driven into the ground. The towns were on little eleva¬ tions, where the Nile flood cannot reach them. All the houses were built of unburnt brick, resembling mud huts or magnified ant hills. The streets were full of dust and debris, on which men, women, and yelping dogs were promiscuously seated. The country was intersected by canals, on whose banks buffaloes and oxen were yoked to long beams, which worked wheels to pump water. Nearly two hours before we reached Cairo, some one shouted, “the Pyramids;” and sure enough, there the world-renowned Pyramids rose on the horizon. No larger than that ? said I to myself. For at a distance of thirty miles, their imposing size appears considerably smaller than the reality. But to be whirled and whistled toward the city of the Pharaohs and the Pyramids of Egypt, on a locomotive train, gives one much to think about. Dark-visaged Bedouins, the roving children of Esau, gazed with wild but speechless amazement, at the steaming, puffing monster, dashing by them. When the train halted in a nineteenth-century depot, I could scarcely realize that I was at Grand Cairo in Egypt. After giving our baggage to a porter, we passed into the street. A rabble crowd of donkey drivers stood in waiting at the outside. They gently held their peace until we had worked ourselves out of the vast crowd of Turks, Arabs, Ethiopians, and Egyptians ; but then switches whizzed in all directions, and a dense blockade of fifty or a hun¬ dred donkeys quickly wedged us in, each driver trying to get nearest the stranger. The air was filled with clouds of dust, and the hideous vociferous noise of bray¬ ing asses and their shrieking drivers. Our little party, unaccustomed to such a mode of warfare, was soon thrown into confusion and separated from each other. 33 AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION. Each one had to fight his own battle. Gladly would I have mounted a donkey to escape the frightful confusion and the danger of being trodden under foot by them, but the tightly packed pile around me completely fet¬ tered my limbs. A few earnest blows drove them into a momentary retreat, but when they discovered my willing¬ ness to ride, each was determined that it should be on his donkey. They made a desperate rush. It was too much even for a man of some patience to bear. Throw¬ ing moral suasion to the winds, I carried the war into the enemy’s camp, cutting and slashing away indiscrimi¬ nately at man and beast. Not possessed of a great deal of foresight, they had walled themselves in among a dense heap of asses, so that a sudden retreat was im¬ possible. They became entangled among their animals. I got within reach of a stout athletic Arab, who was completely hobbled among the confused mass. He vainly tried to extricate himself by jumping out of it, as if ready to run away over their backs, pushing and pommeling the long-eared and long-headed animals with a desperate energy. He twisted and shrugged his shoulders, and cast a savage and revengeful look at me, as blow after blow thwacked across his broad back. The rabble was dispersed, and ere they could rally again, we were galloping off towards Shepherd’s Hotel. The ar¬ gument of the rod is clear and convincing to men of every tongue. I might perhaps have performed this earnest duty from more amiable motives; still, a duty it was, and I have reason to hope that its vigorous per¬ formance taught the Egyptian better manners. Shepherd’s Hotel, at the edge of the city, is the only one worthy of the name in Cairo. It is delightfully situated, fronting on a spacious square with large trees, c 34 SUNDAY IN CAIRO. having the city on one side and the country on the other. The whole is on a thoroughfare, where small and great, with an occasional dash of the nobility, continu¬ ally pass. The streets pour out long lines of laden camels ; scores of donkeys, each bearing a skin of water, looking like a black scalded hog with the grease oozing out in the hot sun ; females on decorated donkeys ; offi¬ cers with noble steeds richly caparisoned ; coaches of the Pashas with footmen running ahead to clear the way and telling them who is coming. Pharaoh made Joseph to ride in the second chariot which he had, and they cried before him: ‘‘Bow the knee.” Gen. 41 : 43. I found that the Pasha of Egypt and his men of state were always preceded by such runners, opening the way and urging the people. to show their respect. The next day was the Sabbath, but the streets were just as noisy and full of stir as the day before. The Mohammedans have their Sabbath on Friday, and the Jews on Saturday, so that in the East the people have three Sabbaths in a week ; but none of these, not even the Mohammedan Sabbath, is a general day of rest. The push, drive, and confusion, is equally great on all days. In the morning we attended services at the chapel of the English Church Missionary Society. Dr. Lieder, a German clergyman, preached a very edifying sermon in broken English, on Numbers 23 : 10. The small room was pretty well filled. In the court of the chapel we met two Egyptian lads, neatly dressed, who bade us “Good morning.” Asking whether they were Chris¬ tians, one replied, “ Yes, and my father and mother are Christians too.” They seemed so happy that they could tell us this of their parents. In the afternoon we went to a small “upper room,” in a third story, in the J MISSIONARY LIFE IN EGYPT. 35 house of the American missionaries. Rev. Mr. Edwards, an Independent minister, from London, preached an excellent discourse on Romans 10 : 2-3, to twenty-three hearers, mostly travellers. The following Sabbath I attended an Arabic service at the same place. There were only half a dozen natives present. The mission is supported by the Associate Reformed Church, and has had to encounter formidable difliculties. How few Chris¬ tians have the faintest conception of the trials of most foreign missionaries ! They labor patiently for years to acquire the language, at best but imperfectly. They spend years more of persevering toil, and even then find the immediate results apparently small. Still to labor on in these circumstances without discouragement, shows a degree of faith which few possess. Our first business in exploring the wonders of Egypt, was to form a more intimate acquaintance with the tribe of donkey drivers. For these donkeys or asses are the carryalls of the East, serving for wheelbarrows, drays, carts, cabs, and omnibuses. Dozens would congregate around our door, and the moment some newdy-arrived traveller made his appearance, switches whizzed, and suddenly all asses rushed around their victim. A friend returning from his first hour’s ride paid fifty cents, after his driver had made a boisterous clamor that no less could be taken. The usual rate is from five to ten cents. This was our first lesson. They seem to be a merry race. While pushing and patting their animals onward, they entertain the rider with fragments of sailor’s Eng¬ lish. For several days my driver kept shouting, ‘‘By and by, howajee, by and by;” by which he meant, as I afterwards learned, that I should not ride so fast. They are remarkably nimble-footed, wearing but a loose 36 EGYPTIAN DONKEYS. sliirt for their apparel. Their limbs and consciences seem alike free from tenderness ; they can run and lie with equal celerity. As beasts of burden, and even for convenient easy gait, the donkey is not to be despised. With a driver, as each one has here, skilful in the use of the switch, it is an excellent animal for safe and comfortable carriage. It is the ass of the Bible, the same as those which the brethren of Joseph “laded with corn” which Jacob sent them hither to buy. On “ the colt of an ass ” our Sa¬ viour made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Though easily mounted, at first it seems an awkward business for a man full grown, or perhaps a little more so, to ride on such a diminutive relic of antiquity. I found that I could almost ride and walk without shifting my position. One should suppose that a seat so near the ground would render a tumble an easy and short pro¬ cess, but we found it just the opposite. Every day some one of our little party would suddenly be sent sprawling from an easy amble to take his position in the dust, and that too with such a crushing, head-foremost, neck¬ breaking tumble, as to make it a most serious operation. It is not always the highest; fall which is the hardest. When one sits on such a small lump of flesh and blood, he seems so closely identified with it, and nothing to catch a hold of, that a stumble of the one almost simul¬ taneously produces a tumble of the other. Nothing can be more excruciatingly unmusical than the braying of an ass. He screeches out his distressing noise with dis¬ tended nostrils, flinging his ears and jerking his head, as if in the last kicks of strangulation. The sound is something between the filing of a large saw, and a well- rosined horse-fiddle. The first thought it provokes is to run away, or dash after liim with a cane. STREETS OF CAIRO. 37 CHAPTER III. Cairn. The population of Cairo is variously estimated from 200,000 to 250,000. The city is like a vast hive, swarm¬ ing through the shop-streets, called bazaars. These are mostly roofed. The tradesmen have their goods in stalls, like large cupboards. They sit cross-legged in the doors, which are like our store-shutters, while men and animals buy and bray in the streets. Each shop usually deals in but one article. One has coffee, another rice, another olives, another pipes, etc. The variety of costumes and faces, added to the loud roar of the noisy multitude, at first produces an effect almost bewildering. On almost every street-corner donkeys wait for a rider. With labor we worm our way through the multitude of men and animals. Ethiopians, Turks, and Franks, are all jostled together. All look sad and surly. One-fourth of the crowd are half or wholly blind. Now and then wo meet a Consul or Pasha, with a line of attendants cut¬ ting and scolding a passage through the dense mass. Then some mounted official worms his way through the jam, on a noble Arab horse, preceded by a runner, who shouts his name to the crowd, and tells them how much they should honor and make way for him. Here a fat, puffing epicure comes swaggering along, followed by a pipe-bearer, carrying his master’s chibouque after him, 4 38 FEMALES OF CAIRO. SO that he can smoke when he takes a fancy. There goes a string of females, the wives of a Moslem. A number of black eunuchs, with faces blank and emotionless, attend and watch them. Veiled women, wrapped in linen white as snow, face and all ; others in black or yellow silk, shuffle clumsily along, pretending to avoid our gaze. Here and there a veiled head moves above the crowd ; as it approaches you discover that it belongs to a woman, ^ riding astride a donkey, after the fashion of men. But the great bulk of females in this hive, whose faces are not hid, are distressingly filthy, ragged, haggard, and coarse- featured ; all dressed in dirty blue garments, loosely thrown around them, with faces half or wholly unveiled. Little blear-eyed children are perched astride a shoulder of the mother, holding fast to her head, while she trudges along as if unconscious of her load. Isaiah 49 : 22. ‘‘And thy daughters shall be carried on their shoulders.’* Still a custom in the East. Blind men grope along the swarming streets, feeling for the walls of the houses to guide them, crying, “ buckshish, buckshish,” (a gift, a gift,) while their vacant eyeballs stare skyward. As un¬ seen strangers drop a para into their hands, they invoke the Prophet’s blessing upon the merciful. While gazing at these blind beggars, a shriek of distress startles me. Oh, for pity ! There is a poor man cringing in the corner of a merchant’s stall, like a dog beneath the lash of his master, while another one beats him with a stick. He cries with a loud voice for help, as if every bone in his body were about to break, but the crowd passes him unheeded by. At Cairo the bazaars are already alive with a busy crowd at sunrise, except during the month of Bamadan, the Lent of the Mahommedans. Most of the business is CAIRO AT NIGHT. 39 transacted in the morning. Many of the shops are closed at noon. In the middle of the afternoon the crowd thins away ; the rush and roar become a faint hum ; and by nightfall the swarm has receded into the hive. The government allows none to go out after night with¬ out a lantern. Persons of rank have runners preceding their horses, carrying pine torches on the top of a pole in an iron grating. The red flame blazing up fiery smoke, dashed through the dark streets, and followed by the pompous train of some nabob, helps to form a picturesque scene. During the hot weather most people sleep in the open air, some on housetops, servants in court-yards, and many poor people sleep in open places and the courts of mosques. At ten we take a guide with a lantern to see the night of Cairo. The city asleep is silent as the grave. Not the whisper of a sound is heard far or near. Not even the baying of a watch-dog. I thought the trees we passed might have shaken their leaves a little. But leaves w^ere as silent as the stars above them. We paused a moment. It was so quiet that silence itself seemed audible. Twice we heard a faint, muttering sound, which we traced to soldiers on guard, leaning against the wall of a house, half asleep. We saw no lighted win¬ dow or lattice. Darkness, “ Egyptian darkness,” reigned everywhere. It was a relief to get out of our uncertain gropings. While looking out into the dark, thick night of Egypt, I had always to think of that darkness that could “be felt,” which once enshrouded this region. Ex. 10 : 21. “Night lustre gives to stars.” What a charm¬ ing canopy overarches the night ! Our own familiar stars paid us their nightly visits. The Dipper and the north star looked large and beautifully bright. But their light 40 FILTH Y STRE:^TS. had no communion with our darkness, — it only made it darker. We took a stroll through the by-streets one afternoon, which are excessively desolate and filthy. The houses, mostly of unburnt brick, look like mud heaps, so low that the grown inmates must stoop through the doors, and often cannot stand erect within. Without floors, they sleep and eat on the bare, dusty ground, alive with all ^ manner of creeping things. Lean, hungry, boisterous dogs everywhere annoyed us, ready to eat any thing, living or dead, that happened to fall in their way. We kept them off our persons by an occasional volley of stones, and so roved through interminable, narrow streets, and vegetable bazaars, reeking with filth ; peeped into mosques, and watched the devout Moslem at his evening prayers. As usual in such cases, we were lost. It was nearly sunset, and our ignorance of the language and the city made our return to known quarters rather a serious problem. Finally, we turned up in the country, about a mile from our hotel. The better classes have more commodious dwellings. Many of the houses are two and three stories high. Each story projects over the one below it, until the roofs almost meet. The fronts look bald and gloomy. Some have lattice windows on the second floor — holes nailed up with cross-laths. Often you can see the caged women of the harem peeping through the lattice on the passers below. The different districts of the city are separated by gates at the end of their streets. These are closed after night, and watched by long-bearded old men, who will open their gates for a small coin. Low, narrow door¬ ways lead into streets, little wider than themselves, where no conveyance above a donkey can pass. In some GRAND MOSQUE OF CAIRO. 41 streets persons on horseback find it difificult to pass each other. The famous citadel of Cairo is on an adjoining hill, overlooking the city. Here is the so-called well of Joseph, said to be 275 feet deep. A broad winding staircase is cut through the solid rock around the shaft. Half-way down, two oxen draw water by a wheel and buckets from the bottom, into a cistern dug here. From here again it is raised to the top by another wheel. The grand mosque near the citadel is by far the most splendid of all the numerous mosques in Cairo. We were asked to leave our shoes at the entrance of the court, and thrust our feet into slippers. A large dome rises out of a circle of smaller ones all lined with gilded mosaic. The walls and pilasters are coated with polished alabaster. The whole looks more like one of those gor¬ geous fairy-castles in Eastern tales, than a real, actual building. The floor and walls are all bare, save a few mats at one end, on which devout Moslems were engaged in evening prayers. It appears like a gutted Cathedral ; without an altar, it lacks sacrificial furniture, symbolical of that shedding of blood without which there is no remission.’’ From the brow of this hill, the whole city with its three hundred mosques and minarets spread out to our view. On three sides the bleak desert presses up to its walls, the fourth is green and joyous, with vast meadows and groves. Ail mosques (Mohammedan temples) are uniformly arranged in a very simple style. First you enter a square court or yard, with a well or fountain in the centre. A cupola rises over it on four columns. Here all perform their ablutions before they engage in wor- 4 ♦ 42 MOHAMMEDAN DEVOTIONS. ship, according to the instruction of the Koran. ‘‘ 0, true believers, when ye prepare yourselves to pray, wash your faces and your hands unto the elbows ; and rub your heads and your feet unto the ankles.” In a corner of the mosque, towards Mecca, a number of columns form an arcade. Here there is a niche in the wall, towards which all the faithful turn their faces, just as the Jews prayed with their faces toward Jerusalem. Daniel 6 : 10. Near this is the pulpit for the preacher, and aside of it a reading stand, for the reading of the Koran and prayer. As perhaps not one in twenty can read, or I might say not one in fifty, the Koran is read almost every day in some mosques. The walls abound with numerous inscriptions from the Koran, iiiscribed in various colors. Parts of the floor are covered with straw mats, on which the wor¬ shippers perform their devotions. These require a va¬ riety of postures, standing, kneeling, prostration, touch¬ ing the floor or ground with the forehead, smiting the breast, and bending the body forward at right angles with the ground. They never pray on the bare ground or floor, and never with their shoes or sandals on. When not in the mosque, they always spread their coarse outer garments on the ground. The minarets are tall columns at the entrance of the mosque, built with alternate layers of red and white stone. Near the top is a railing around the outside, from which the muezzin, or herald, calls to prayers, who performs the same office as the bell in the Christian church. Blind persons are mostly chosen for this office. The gentler sex in the East seldom get be¬ yond the walls of their own house or harem. Here they have everything their own way, with any number of eunuchs to do their bidding. But woe betide the man that steals a peep into their mysterious cage, either from THE CALL TO PRAYER. 43 heaven above or from the earth beneath. They spend much of their time on housetops, and in the open, uncov¬ ered court within their houses. The minarets command a view into all the back yards of Cairo ; hence the blind muezzin, whose sightless sockets can never profane the domestic domain of woman. The Mohammedan day begins at sunset, which is their first hour of prayer. The second is about two hours later ; the third is at dawn ; the fourth at noon, the most important, at which the Sultan attends the mosque at Constantinople ; the fifth is at 3 p. M. Five times a day the muezzin mounts the minaret and calls to prayer. In the morning he cries : “ God is great ! I show you that there is no god but God ! I show you that Mohammed is the prophet of God ! Come to prayers ! Come to your refuge ! Prayer is better than sleep ! God is great !” Then you can see many wend¬ ing their way to the mosque. Others spread their toga on the housetop, others in the field or by the way. JSTo matter what they are doing or where they are, when the hour of prayer arrives the faithful will pray. On the crowded steamers of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, they are as regularly devout as their brethren at Cairo or Damascus. I was lying snugly in our tent at Akaba, when a muttering noise woke me at break of day. I raised the curtain, and saw a Turk bowing and kneeling on his toga, amid a cluster of palms. On Mount Zion I was in a banking-room, right at the edge of Hezekiah’s pool, when the herald cried ‘‘to prayers’’ from a neigh¬ boring minaret. The banker, in the presence of the bystanders, spread his coat on the counter and performed his devotions. One night we encamped on the banks of a brook in Galilee, in sight of the waters of Merom. I 44 THE DERVISHES. The sheikh of a neighboring village stopped at sunset near our tent, on his homeward way, stuck his spear in the ground, dismounted, performed his ablutions at the running brook, then spread his toga on the hank, and worshipped his Maker. I cannot vouch for the sincerity of their motives, but their fearless, unswerving fidelity to their religion, which makes everything bend and suc¬ cumb to its claims, extorted from me a respect which I felt ill prepared to award. The dervishes are an order of Moslem monks, famous for their rigid austerities and frantic zeal. Their prin¬ cipal festival lasts nine days, and closes with a cruel ceremony called doseh, the trampling. The sheikh of the Saadieh dervishes rides to the chief sheikh of all the dervishes in Egypt, El Bekree. On the way thither, a great number of these so-called holy people, and others who aspire to equal sanctity, form a solid pavement, with their bodies stretched flat on the ground, and their faces downward, alternately with their feet and heads together. The sheikh then rides over this living carpet of human bodies, his horse being led by a servant on each side. Each body, if possible, receives two treads. The larger number spring up again unhurt. The few that are seri¬ ously or mortally wounded, must bear, besides this ill- fortune, the disgrace of having neglected to say the proper prayers the day before, misunderstood them, or not having said the charm formularies, which they think are alone able to protect them. Desirous of witnessing their so-called devotions, we repaired to a small rude mosque on Friday afternoon. We entered a small court-yard, with stone benches along the sides and in the centre. The latter were shaded by a tree, under whose branches the old men were seated. KESPECT TO AGE. 45 Whenever a grey-bearded veteran entered they all rose to their feet. Some reverently kissed his hand, the older embraced him, then offered him a seat and a pipe under the tree. “ Thou shalt rise before the hoary head, and honor the face of the old man.” Lev. 19 : 32. The East still retains its ancient reverence and respect for age. With us, alas ! it is fast falling into disuse. It seems to diminish as we go westward ; Europe has less than the East, but we have least of all. But to our dervishes. Coffee was handed to all, in puny cups ; the aged had the additional luxury of a narghile (pipe). The practice of hospitality, in connec¬ tion with religion, made up for its lack of flavor. Black, bitter, unsettled, still under the circumstances it was per¬ fectly delicious. While sipping at my unsavory share, I filled up the pauses by viewing my fellow-guests. The old men were striking specimens of patriarchal physiog¬ nomies. Thoughtful and silent, they sipped and puffed. The younger had a vacant look about them. Some had rimless high-crowned hats on, shaped like a piece of stove pipe. The leading dervishes had unshorn hair, like the Nazarites, several feet long. The Nazarites never shaved so long as their vows were upon them. ‘‘All the days of the vow of his separation there shall no razor come upon his beard.” Num. 6 : 5. Samson was to be a Nazarite from his birth. “No razor shall come on his beard.” Judges 13 : 5. So Paul had his head unshorn for a season ; “ for he had a vow.” Acts 18 : 18. But the head, as can be seen on the monu¬ ments, was shaved by the Egyptians. Joseph “ shaved himself” before he came in unto Pharaoh. Gen. 41 : 14. After musing mutely over our cups awhile, the faithful led the way into the small mosque. The walls were 46 WORSHIP OF THE DERVISHES. hung with Instruments to inflict self-torture. We sat by the wall on the pavement. At the opposite end the old sheikh of the Dervishes took his place, and soon some twenty or thirty performers gathered round him in a circle. He led off like a singing master, keeping time by swinging his body, which motion all the rest followed > With a low, deep groan, they grunted ^‘La illah illalah” (there is no God but God). Their singing and grunts became more rapid and violent, until the whole circle waved to and fro, and their unitM grunts formed a dead inhuman noise, which I have no language to describe. The sheikh made a sign, and the raving suddenly stopped as if by an enchanter’s wand. While the frantic zealots panted for breath, 'several commenced a noise on tambo- rines and pipes, following their music with a half-dancing motion. Meanwhile, a singer screeched a sacred song through his nostrils, making a face full of agony, as if in travail with music. Soon the circle was formed again. With a drawling groan, they slung their bodies back and forward, the face almost touching the knees, then bend¬ ing the head back on the spine. Some shook hands, others threw their garments aside, till nothing was left but a light sash around the waist. They became louder and faster, still with measured quickness, groaning, “ Il¬ lah,” “ha hu.” One soul seemed to move the whole circle. The sweat gushed out of every pore ; their long dishevelled hair flew like loose sails in a storm, burying their faces ; the scene grew wilder, until some commenced to reel and sink to the floor. It was like a gathering of demoniacs. — The old man waved his wand, the scene suddenly became like the sea after a storm ; the waves continued after the storm had ceased. He could stop the wheels, but the momentum would carry the body on THE PASH a’ S GARDENS. 47 in its motion. They panted and gasped for breath ; their mouths frothed, and their eyes stared fearfully. One beat his breast with clenched fists ; another yelled and whooped ; another dashed his forehead against the wall, and rebounded senseless to the fioor. He left a mark on the wall, but none on his head. Another one threw himself on him till his raving was over. A feeling of horror crept over me; the whole ceremony was such a frightful caricature of worship," that it seemed more like the worship of the Devil than of God. There were no females present, save a few forbidden spectators, who stood on an adjoining housetop, and stole a view through a broken window near the roof of the mosque. These dervishes are mostly supported by the wealthy, who are great admirers of their frantic fanaticism. Feh. 23c?. This afternoon, we rode to Shoobra, four miles from Cairo, to see the Pasha’s gardens. The way led through a continuous arbor of sycamore and acacia trees. We met large flocks of donkeys bearing skins of water, and camels laden with grass and wood. At the entrance of the gardens we were accosted by several self-appointed servants, ready to do our bidding. We were given to understand that visitors were forbidden to touch or taste any fruit. But they soon brought their unsolicited store of luscious fruit in the hope of getting a few piastres. Peach and apricot trees were in full bloom. Citrons, lemons, and blood-oranges were ripe, of which we got a bountiful share. The air was freighted with sweet odors ; the birds sang to each other from ’ every tree-top ; and while a few heavy rain-drops fell on the dust, like drops of life, we reclined beneath a canopy on soft divans around the omnipresent fountain. Heliopolis is the On of the Bible, where Joseph got 4b RUINS OF HELIOPOLlo. his wife. Gen. 41 : 45. Our way thither led us about an hour and a half in a north-eastern direction, along the edge of the desert. This ancient metropolis of the Egyptian priesthood, consists at present of a series of mounds — heaps of earth — covered debris and ruins. Some of them are ancient walls, resembling great ram¬ parts of earth ; others perform the office of thriving gardens. Grass, grain, and trees, bending with fruit, grow in almost wild luxuriance over the tombs, temples, walls, and buried mysteries of Egypt’s religion. To this city, doubtless, the prophet refers when speaking of the latter-day, spiritual glory of Egypt : “ In that day shall five cities in the land of Egypt speak the language of Canaan, and swear to the Lord of hosts ; On shall be called the city of destruction (in the margin, the city of the Sun, or Heliopolis).” Here on the edge of Egypt and the desert, was the centre of Egypt’s religious wor¬ ship and sacrifices. And so it shall be again. ‘‘ In that day shall there be an altar to the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt, and a pillar at the border thereof to the Lord'' Isaiah 19 : 18-19. In a garden near the city is an ancient sycamore, with two thick limbs and a very large gnarled trunk. Tradition says Mary and Joseph, with the infant Jesus, rested under this tree on their flight to Egypt. As they tarried at least two years in Egypt, and as, according to Josephus, there was a city of Egyptian Jews near Helio¬ polis, with a Jewish temple, it is not impossible that the holy family visited this city ; but that they rested under this very tree is not so easily determined. I felt plea¬ sure, however, in thinking that my eyes, for the first time, may have rested on a landscape which our Lord and the Virgin beheld. Josephus says, Pharaoh gave TEMPLE OF THE SUN. 49 Jacob leave to live with his children in Heliopolis ; for in that city the King’s shepherds had their pasturage.” In the gardens covering the city are two relics of the great Temple of the Sun, the highpriest of which was “Potiphar, priest of On,” the father-in-law of Joseph. Gen. 41 : 50. Afterwards, the teacher of Moses was its highpriest. One of these relics is a pool, with willows and rank herbage around its borders. The other is a solitary obelisk, rising out of a garden of shrubbery. It was erected by King Sesurtesen I., 2300 years before Christ. It is, by far, the most ancient of all known obelisks. This was the first one I saw on the spot where it was originally erected. A vast profusion of fiowers in these gardens attracted swarms of busy bees, which have piled their stores over the hieroglyphics inscribed on it, until they have become buried like the neighbor¬ ing palaces and temple. This city, in its glory, “ prided itself in possessing, next to Thebes, the most learned body of priests.” Learning, among the ancient Egyptians, was confined to the caste of the priesthood. Even kings had to become priests, before they could be initiated into the mysteries of their wisdom and learning. Mahommedan tradition says that Moses had been a pagan priest before he fled from Egypt. As he had become the adopted son of the king’s daughter, this tradition may be true. To have been a priest in the Egyptian religion, is not derogatory to the character of Moses. It formed part of his schooling for the solemn duties of the Jewish lawgiver. Here he laid the foundation of his learning, for ‘‘ Moses was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.” Acts 7 : 22. One almost feels like lifting his hat before this stately granite column, which stands firm in its ancient 5 D 50 OBELISK OF HELIOPOLIS. place, in spite of museurns and emperors, who have car¬ ried nearly all its fellows to Europe, still preaching of the long, long past. I had seen three of its companions in Rome, taken from here. It alone is left, almost the only landmark of the great seat of Egyptian wisdom.” It is the oldest obelisk in existence, the father of all the rest. It was raised a century before Joseph was brought to Egypt by slave merchants ; it looked down on his marriage with Asenath ; Moses looked at its inscriptions ; Herodotus speaks of it ; “ and Plato sat under its shadow.” The borders of the desert are gradually rescued from their barrenness by means of wells. The waters of the Nile soak under the surface where its overflowings do not extend. By digging wells fifteen or twenty feet deep, they get access to its waters, the great fertilizer of Egypt. The power of Nile water over the desert is almost incredible. Its touch in a very short time evokes vegetable life from the burning sand, and covers it with luxuriant verdure ; it converts the desert into a fruitful fleld, like ‘‘the garden of the Lord.” The “fountain opened in the house of David,” sends forth a stream like the life-bearing Nile. Wherever its waters extend, “ the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them ; and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.” Isaiah 35 : 1. Near our hotel was one of the Pasha’s palaces, where his daughter furnished a series of festivities during our sojourn in Cairo. The. street before the palace was spanned with a large canvass, under which hung chande¬ liers, and lamps were pendent from ropes stretched along the side of it. Musicians were there in the street, all day long, in grey grotesque garments, with coins hung around THE pasha’s harem. 51 the breast, and long jewelled tassels dangling around their loins. A screeching fiddle, untuned and unstrung, small drums and single drum heads, and tamborines and pipes, sounding like willow pipes ; all fiddled, piped, thumped, and drummed, each extemporaneously on his own hook, without regard to time or tune ; meanwhile themselves dancing to their excruciating discords. These wild fandangoes were kept up for several days, to the amusement of thousands of spectators. One afternoon the Pasha’s carriages hauled women to the palace. An army of eunuchs received the fair ones at the door. Their features were hid beneath a profusion of silk, so that no one could see whether they were joyful or sad. To an uninterested spectator the whole alfair seemed sullen and dreary. These mufiled, silent women keep one thinking all the while of apparitions. As they alighted they w^ere softly hurried away from the vulgar gaze of the rabble by the mysterious looking eunuchs. Of course the sterner sex were entirely excluded. A female friend was present, who afterwards reported the proceedings to me. Some of the younger women pos¬ sessed the charms of natural beauty ; others seemed withering with the blight of jealousy, and the half-sup¬ pressed torture of a forced love ; some were silent and sad with untold repressed grief. The prettiest were slaves, whom their masters had bought for wives. Brace¬ lets and coronets, studded with glittering pearls and costly diamonds, reflected the brilliant light of splendid chandeliers in many colors. They seemed totally igno¬ rant of everything beyond their toilette. Some fa¬ miliarly plucked my friend’s dress ; asked how Frank ‘ladies were treated by their husbands, and how they got along with only one. 52 HOTELS IN EGYPT. The few so-called hotels in Egypt are only for travel¬ lers, — Europeans and Americans. Eastern travellers usually herd together in khans or ‘^inns” for their night quarters, where man and beast share a common bed. The accommodations at Shepherd’s Hotel were quite tolerable for Egypt, but egregiously dear. The British India travellers passing through here twice a week, and an unusual number of tourists on hand this spring, gave our rotund host more than his usual share of custom. There was enough on his table, but the diflSculty was to get at it. The few servants he had were indolent, slow, and stupid, so that one had to be wide awake, and withal somewhat rude, to get his due share. At the urgent recommendation of a friend, we removed our quarters to Old Cairo, four miles from the city. Our new host was an obliging, clever fellow, Antonio — some¬ body, — who gave us the best he had. We were here on the banks of the Nile, where we heard the croaking of frogs, such as infested the ‘‘houses,” “ovens,” and “ kneading-troughs ” of Pharaoh’s subjects. Screens were stretched over our couches to keep out musquitoes, but they buzzed and bored their way through the gauze, and pitched into their victims with half-famished avidity. Fleas and the third plague of Egypt came to their aid. Their combined attacks banishing repose from our pil¬ lows, we filled up the sleepless intervals of impatient resistance with comments on this busy progeny of the plagues. Finally our illustrative experiments proving more instructive than agreeable, we kissed and waved the hand to our obliging friend Antonio, and beat a hasty retreat on our donkeys to Shepherd’s, leaving a spring hat and a pair of pinching Neapolitan boots as trophies for our pestering persecutors. Such a universe of ver- NOTING VERMIN. 53 min as Egypt contains, few countries can furnisli. Men and animals, dogs, donkeys, and the dust in the street, are alive with them. It is amusing to see how patiently the filthier classes scrape and scratch them from their persons. The donkey boy, running after his employer, suddenly stops in the way to rid himself of the pain ; sometimes I caught him sitting alone and searching his scanty garments for his assailants. Old and young sit in the hot sun, on the dust before their doors, hunting '^ermin. It may seem a singular destiny to spend much time seriously in such pursuits, but the poor Egyptian would gain a glorious end if he could exterminate his incessant tormentors. Boarding at hotels, the tourist does not get many dishes peculiarly Egyptian. Long shall I remember one called pilau, composed of mutton, rice, and burning quantities of cayenne pepper. It had a very relishable appearance, and as our dinner hour was after sunset, the appetite had time to sharpen for a spoon or two of this pepper sauce. 5^ 54 CROSSING THE NILE. CHAPTER IV. Sih. Feh. 24. — This morning at 8, we started for Mem¬ phis and the Pyramids of Sakharah. A charming morning it was, as all mornings are here. When the ferrymen, at the lower end of Old Cairo, saw us approaching, they commenced the usual deafening clamor. Our interpre¬ ter tried to hire a boat, and vainly strove to be heard at the top of his voice. Finally, he spoke with the aid of a cane, and dealt one a severe blow, which sent him into a frothing rage. He followed us to the other side, threatened vengeance, jumped and tilted about like a man possessed, and heaped on us many of the ugly epi¬ thets which the Moslem vocabulary has for ‘infidels.*’ The boats were large clumsy affairs for ferry-boats, with lateen sails hung from a lofty pole. I was not with¬ out misgivings as I mounted the shoulders of a stout Arab, who carried me through the Nile on to his craft. The donkeys were taken by the hind-legs, and steered through the water and over the side of the boat, after the manner of a wheelbarrow. I felt a pleasant relief when our bark floated away from the riotous mob. We disembarked at Gliizeh on the opposite shore. After threading along through a devious alley about four feet wide, we came into a square, in the centre of the village, where there was a grain market. Large heaps of wheat and barley EGYPTIAN DOGS. 55 were lying about on the bare ground, — doubtless the same kind of wheat as that which the brethren of Joseph came to buy. Still, many “ go down to buy grain in Egypt.” We rode over causeways — roads raised on embank¬ ments, to evade the inundations of the Nile. In every village we w^ere hailed by the bowlings of a herd of half- starved dogs, lean as the kine in Pharaoh’s dream, and with as capacious appetites. Every city and village abounds with this canine nuisance. They seem to live on the filth and ofial of the streets. After commencing our tent-life, we had to watch them like Bedouin robbers. They would steal into the cook’s tent, and our faithful Mahornmed flung many a club and stone at them to keep their paw out of the pan. After night they prowled around our tents with thievish looks, and an occasional howl. David says his enemies “ return at evening : they make a noise like a dog and go round about the city.” Psalm 59 : 6. Their hair all seemed to stand on end, — scabby, canine wolves, hated and kicked by every¬ body. The streets are filled with beatings and bowlings brought on by their thefts. No wonder that the ancients, like the moderns, shunned them as a mean, filthy beast. When a man was mean and contemptible, he was com¬ pared to a dog. ‘‘ Is thy servant a dog,” replied Haz^el to Elisha’s prophecy of his cruelty. 2 Kings 8 : 13. Abishai said to David, “ Why should this dead dog curse my Lord the King? ” 2 Sam. 16 ; 9. The houses were all built of unburnt brick, with little holes for doors, and were innocent of floor and furniture. The roofs consisted of branches and rubbish covered with mud. Some of their occupants were stretched before their doors, roasting in the sun. Groups of dirty men 56 BRICK MAKING IN EGYPT. and women, and children almost naked, sat along their mud-like walls, as if existence were a burden to them. The scarcity of rain produces great quantities of dust. In streets and houses it abounds, and the feathery tops of palm trees are grey with it. So it was when God commanded Aaron, saying, “ Stretch out thy rod, and smite the dust of the land, that it may become lice throughout all the land of Egypt.” Exodus 8 : 16. When the land was cursed with the drought it was said, “ The Lord shall make the rain of the land powder and dust.” Deut. 28 : 24. At several villages they were making brick, mixing Nile mud with short ‘‘ straw,” and drying them in the sun, just as the Jews did in the days of Moses. The largest houses are built of these unburnt brick. This was near Memphis, the city of the Pharaohs, where the task-masters were told, ‘‘Ye shall no more give the people straw to make brick,” so they had to “gather straw for themselves.” Ex. 5 : 7. But why use straw ? For the same reason that plasterers use hair in the plaster, to cause the clay to cohere. Lepsius says : “ The black brick made of Nile mud, and dried in the sun, apparently the most perishable material, have not unfrequently been preserved in the open air for thou¬ sands of years, in the form in which they were built up, and with their coating of plaster.” He mentions the ruins of a brick-built temple at Thebes, over 3000 years old, and in a tolerable state of preservation. In the north¬ ern part of Egypt, where the atmosphere is more damp and the weather more changeable, they would not last so long. Our road led us through a region supposed to have been partly inhabited and worked by Hebrews. The whole Nile plain, viewed at a distance, was like one con- CATACOMBS OF THE PESERT. 57 tinuous meadow. The wheat was just coming into heads. Barley was nearly in bloom. Herds of cattle were out grazing in the fenceless fields. As we approached them, the black head of the keeper, with a white turban, rose above the grass. Little boys kept sheep and goats. While a large camel was lying down, two kids were skip¬ ping about on his hump. After a few hours we reached the edge of the Lybian desert. Deep sand, like vast snow-drifts, everywhere covers the earth, through which our little animals waded with much labor. All vegeta¬ tion suddenly ceased. The waves of the desert limit the shores of this sea of verdure. Their yearly encroach¬ ments, rolled out by desert winds, are driven back by the inundations of the Nile, whose waters fertilize the sand within their reach. But for this, and the desert would soon leave but a narrow strip of fertile land along the Nile. We descended into several mummy-pits, the catacombs of the desert. One contained large sarcophagi, of smoothly polished granite. Others were of black marble, with numerous hieroglyphics. Some of these contain the dust of ancient greatness, others of the Bull Apis, an object of worship among the old Egyptians. Others had chambers strewn with mummies, in which the dead of 3000 and 4000 years were wrapped up and embalmed, with their features still retained, though shrivelled like a crisp. The sand was dry as dust as far as we descended, and the air close and hot as an oven. These under¬ ground explorations cost one an immense deal of sweat. We stooped our way through the dark winding streets of the dead of old, with the aid of dim tapers, and walked over places literally strewn with dead men’s bones ; perhaps we kicked about the skulls of ancient 68 INSCRIPTIONS ON TOMBS. ‘taskmasters,” or of the proud oppressors of other days. One pit was filled with piles of ibis mummies, the white sacred bird of Egypt, preserved in jars. Some that were broken, still contained their bones, perfectly pre¬ served. W ere it not for these tombs of the old Egyptians, little of their history would now be known. Every great man or king had his corpse put into a large sarcophagus of red or black granite or marble, smoothly polished, — a pile eight or ten feet high, and the same in length. If the man had large harv^'^ts, sheaves and reapers are carved on his tomb ; if many flocks, sheep, cattle, or camels are engraved on the stone. And so with regard to all the details of his possessions and history. Thus we learn more about Old Egypt from tombs than books. Modern antiquarians have deciphered many of the hiero¬ glyphics on tombs and Pyramids, and many more remain to be interpreted. What a singular providence to pre¬ serve the annals of a nation which was the cradle of Science for more than 4000 years — not on paper or parchment, which would long since have perished, but on the tombs and senulchral monuments of its dead ! In the graveyards of their giants we read their history. After visiting several of the larger Pyramids of Sak- harah, we hurried into the shade of the largest one, and resorted to our wallets for a noonday meal. The winter sun is not uncomfortably hot here, so long as one keeps near the Nile ; but once out on these heaps of rolling sand for an hour, and he is ready to roast on the earth or under it. The sun pours his heat from above, waves of hot twittering air rush up from the seething sand, while he wades and pufis over it with immense labor. On our return we took a different route. Nearly all THE PALM TREE. 59 the mud- villages were embowered among palm groves, whose graceful, lofty tops contrasted strangely with the gro mlling, crouching dwellers in the towns. Finally, we reached the small Arab village of Metrahenny, the few miserable human dwellings which mark the site of Memphis, the Noph and No of the Bible, consisting of a few huts scattered among a forest of palms. These trees are of great value and use in this part of the world. Their feathery tops shield against the burning sun ; their long trunks are used for building purposes ; their leaves for making baskets ; their fruit is used for food ; and their sap for making arrak (date brandy) ; their undressed logs serve the fishermen of the Nile and Red Sea as boats ; and their branches are used as en¬ signs of triumph. Their wood was used for the dwel¬ lings of the living, and to board up the embalmed corpses of the dead. The tents at the feast of tabernacles were covered with palm branches (Lev. 23) ; and with “branches of palm trees,” the people of Jerusalem wel¬ comed the King of Israel at his triumphal approach to his city. And the innumerable multitude which John saw before the throne and the Lamb, clothed with white robes, had palms in their hands. Rev. 7 : 9. No tree is so graceful and erect. “ Thy stature is like to a palm tree.” Song of Sol. 7 : 7. The idols of the Jews were “ upright as the palm tree.” Jer. 10 ; 5. Its rough-rinded trunk lifts its vigorous, plumy top high above earth, and bears fruit nearest heaven. “ The righteous shall flourish like the palm-tree.” Psalm 92 : 12. Looking over the surrounding plain, we saw mounds and vast piles of ruins, on which beautiful palm grove? and wheat-fields were waving in the breeze. A mighty city once this Memphis was, the abode of royalty ana 60 SCRIPTURE ALLUSIONS TO MEMPHI&. cruelty, great and terrible. Here the Pharaohs lived, and here they died ; the Pharaoh that promoted Joseph, and the Pharaoh that ‘‘knew not Joseph.” How terri¬ bly true I felt the prophecy of Jeremiah to be, with my eyes resting on the depopulated city, its unseen ruins nourishing palm trees, wheat fields, and herds of cattle! “ 0 thou daughter dwelling in Egypt, furnish thyself to “go into captivity ; for Noph shall be waste and desolate, without an inhabitant.” Jer. 46 : 19-26. In this city they fed the ox Apis, as their god, to whose destruction Ezekiel alludes. “ Thus saith the Lord God; I will also destroy the idols, and I will cause their images to cease out of NopJi^ and there shall be no more a prince of the land of Egypt.” Ezek. 30 : 13. In sight of the Nile, whose swellings flowed around and perhaps through it, the description of Nahum would suit its geography as w^ell now as then. “Art thou better than populous No, that was situated among the "ivers, that had the waters round about it, whose rampart was the sea, and her wall was from the sea ? Ethiopia and Egypt were her strength, and it was infinite.” Nahum 3 : 8-9. But one relic remains visible. In a ditch, containing water left by the annual swelling of the river, lay a col- lossal statue, with the back upward, its pretty face with distinct features partly visible. The ditch or pond is formed by high mounds of ruins. Here it has lain for many centuries ; perhaps it is the same one which Herod¬ otus describes as having stood in front of the great gateway. I looked over the verdant, uneven plain, where slept Joseph’s prison and his palace. Hither he was brought by the “ Midianite merchantmen,” and here he interpreted Pharaoh’s dream. Hither came his brethren twice, and then his old father with his families. REMAINS OF ANCIENT xM EM PHIS. Cl Here partly Moses was reared, and here he plead for his oppressed brethren. To get a faint view of the greatness of ancient Mem¬ phis, one need hut look westward from here, where her vast necropolis stretches along the edge of the Lyhian desert for many miles. Scores of pyramids, great and small, rose -within our view, each a separate sepulchre of some prince or king — a vast city of the dead, running over with sand, its streets running through shelves of mummy-swathings ; long lines of polished tombs, the palaces of the dead ; vast galleries of shrivelled, crispy corpses, all being but the hurying-ground of Memphis. The king that sat on his throne, the master and the slave, the god and his worshipper, the proud and the poor, all sleep in the same desert ; kings, with their heads way up in the pyramids, subjects down below the sand. What a scene, could they all come back to the deserted city, and for a moment fill it with its palaces and its people ! In other parts of the world, many might have lived, died, and decayed a hundred times since they were buried. The art of embalming partly helped to preserve these dead so long. But the main preserver is, doubtless, the dryness of the air and earth. The absence of all moist¬ ure would retard decomposition in any country. The hurying-ground of Memphis was famous in ancient times, either for its mode of interring the dead, or for some other peculiarity, perhaps its boundless capacity for re¬ ceiving them. What multitudes of Hebrews sleep in this sandy cemetery of Memphis ! Many were driven hither in the days of their last kings. Here they died and were buried. “ Egypt shall gather them up, Mem¬ phis shall bury them.” Hosea 9 : 6. This, at least, 6 62 ISLE OF RODAH. would seem to point it out as the most celebrated hury- ing-ground in Egypt. I never felt such an overpower¬ ing illustration of fulfilled prophecy and executed Divine displeasure, as when I stood amid the palm trees of Memphis. Thriving groves and grain fields are spread over the site of Egypt’s pride and shame. A faint breeze sighed a sad requiem over the dead city, hut not a sound was heard besides it. Even the filthy little vil¬ lage was unusually silent. The inhabitants have moved to another city. ‘‘ Noph shall he waste and desolate without an inhabitant.” Jer. 46 : 19. At such a place, the fool only can deny the Divine inspiration of prophecy. Our visit to the Pyramids of Ghizeh was equally inte¬ resting. They are about ten miles northwest of Cairo in a straight line, but over the crooked, winding causeways the distance is fifteen. Again the boatmen shrieked and fisted in fierce confusion, seemingly ready to tear us to pieces. The donkeys were tumbled in like bales of mer¬ chandise. On our way we stopped at the isle of Rodan, to see the famous Nilometer. Tradition says that the daughter of Pharaoh found Moses, floating in his little ark, on the edge of this island. There is no reason why this may not have been true, for the island^seems to have, been the abode of royalty at a tolerably remote period ; and a little bark put on the river higher up, where Mem¬ phis and many of the Hebrew slaves then were, would be more likely to touch on its banks in the middle of the river than at either shore. The Pharaohs having had a palace here, where they spent part of their time, it would seem natural that the daughter should notice the little ark floating down the river. There is a fine palace here now, and one of the former pashas laid ofi* the island into gardens. The Nilometer is a graduated column, NEAR VIEW OF THE PYRAMIDS. 63 formerly used to measure the rising of the Nile, standing erect in a buildinor on the edore of Kodah. It is said to O be nearly a thousand years old. Our way led us several hours across the fertile plains ; the air was sweet and balmy, the soft breeze was freighted with pleasant odors, and gracefully waved the tufts of the tall palms ; a re¬ viving spring power seemed to teem out of the earth. As we rode slowly along, chatting and happy, one donkey after the other brought his rider clumsily to the earth with a tremendous crash. Very singular how these little animals can make one dismount, when so near the ground, with such a helpless tumble. Strange thoughts one has in approaching these world- renowned Pyramids of Egypt for the first time. We hear and read so much about them at home, that our credulity is tempted to feel disappointed at the actual sight of them, marvellously great and grand though they he. Riding towards them at a distance, I still wondered that they looked no larger. ' Hungry dogs hailed us with their bowlings, and dozens of Arabs, almost in a state of nudity, came scampering after us, running as fast as our animals, and offering their services with extended hands. On the rising border of the desert, perhaps twenty or thirty minutes after leaving the green Nile plain, we approached the base of the large Pyramid of Cheops. Here its immense proportions swelled far beyond even my extra¬ vagant expectations. Huge broad blocks rose step above step into the sky, until they seemed to rise above the reach of mortals. It was a scene of awful, overpower¬ ing grandeur, “ the nearest approach to a mountain that the art of man has produced.” By this time the number of straggling Arabs which we had picked up along the way had swelled to quite an 64 TURBULENT ARABS. army. These poor fellows are innocent of laws and manners, and do what little they have to do in quite an original style. Not one in twenty had a hope of getting employment, so they raised a fearful commotion, trying to mob their services upon us. Fortunately the sheikh of the nearest village came to our rescue, and, for a small fee, gave us directions how to manage them. There is no use to reason with these Egyptian Arabs ; English, French, and Arabic, good and bad, are all thrown away on them. Only he who has the rod at command, can grapple with them in controversy. The sheikh assigned one guide to each of us for a shilling, with strict orders to permit no others to follow. After light¬ ing our candles, we entered the Pyramid through a nar¬ row inclined shaft, with a polished marble floor. I happened to enter last with my Arab. The sheikh repeated his counsel to keep the crowd back. They tried to force their way by me ; I argued and scolded in plain English, but all to no purpose. Experience had taught me that the system of induction was the only philosophy they understood. I left them come till they had gorged the narrow passage, and then turned on^them with a tough cane. They had not counted on this. Quick and heavy fell the blows on their broad bare backs. Confu¬ sion ensued in their ranks. The floor was slippery, their sandals still more so from the hot sand. Running away from a pursuing foe, up a slippery hill, is not an easy task. Some fell, others fell over them. I pounded on the pavement way down, which they mistook for the ear¬ nest thwacks on the backs of the poor hind ones. And so they emerged by jerks, like water from the narrow neck of an inverted bottle. It may seem strange that a man of my cloth should resort to such means ; but, under I CANEDISCIPLINE. 65 certain circumstances, a faithful teacher of good morals feels it as much his duty to resort to “ the rod for the fool’s back,” as to arguments and persuasions of a milder kind. There are certain minds which can only be reached and convinced through the senses. Perhaps our Egyptian friends belong to this class. Wherever I made use of it, I found that it decidedly improved their manners, — at least towards myself. Some may fancy that the narrative of such belligerent adventures had better remain untold, betraying a discre¬ ditable want of taste and temper. But it must be borne in mind that every traveller, whatever his cloth, is, under certain circumstances, a man of like passions with others. And furthermore, as to travelling through a country of such lawless, unmannerly vandals, he must make up his mind to be his own police, or he had better remain at home. I saw an English lady shamefully annoyed by these barbarians in the presence of her husband. The slight brandishing of his cane would have brought imme¬ diate relief. This much I can say in defence of my course, apart from the moral virtue of the rod for such beings. Although the scene and its description may lack dignity, its lesson has a moral. These unprincipled rowdy propensities of modern Egyptians are important strokes of Ezekiel’s prophetic pencil, with which he de¬ picted their character 2500 years ago. This base fea¬ ture in Egyptian character, and those who have been Egyptianized in this house of hondagef furnishes sad illustrations of fulfilled prophecy. Here you find yourself alone amid a score or two of full-grown men, with the flesh and blood, faces and forms of men, who are solely influenced by motives of fear and dread. They insult you, and down comes your rod in quick and pun- 6 * E 66 BURIAL-PLACE OF CHEOPS. gent blows, beneath which they cringe, crouch, and whine, without the least show of resistance. No sooner is the rod laid by, than they resume their dogged, impertinent annoyances again ; beings morally base and torpid, from whose hearts and minds every vestige of true manliness has been obliterated, the quintessence of a base, servile spirit, just as the prophet has it. “ They shall be there a base kingdom. It shall be the basest of kingdoms.” Ezek. 29 : 14, 15. The Egyptians have become so used to this kind of training, that they seem to bear it as a matter of course. The usual method of punishing is to lay the oifender on his back, with his feet on a stool or log, when the lash is applied to the soles of his feet. ‘‘ If the wicked man be worthy to be beaten, the judge shall cause him to lie down io be beaten before his face.” Deut. 25 : 2. Doubtless the poor Hebrews suffered this penalty while in Egypt. It is very severe, often leaving the sufferer in a fainting condition, and his lace¬ rated feet unfit to walk for days. The Jewish law only allowed forty stripes ; Paul received one less of the Jews. 2 Cor. 11: 24. Seeing these poor Egyptian bond- men beaten and bleeding for their sins, one cannot help but think of Him who “ was wounded for our transgres¬ sions, and bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we arp healed.” Isaiah 53 : 5. After climbing and clambering our way up and down a series of slippery passages, we reached a dark cham¬ ber, seventy or eighty feet above the base of the Pyra¬ mid ; this contained a large granite sarcophagus, smoothly polished. Here Cheops, who had this Pyramid built for his sepulchral monument, is supposed to have been buried. The air was hot and stnothering, and gave a 1 ASCENT OF A PYRAMID. 67 singular ringing sound to the human voice. When we came out, the disappointed Arabs clamorously pressed their claims for bucksheesh, but the occasional flourish of a club silenced their clamor, and kept them at a respectful distance. The ascent of the Pyramid is along the outside. The blocks of stone recede as you ascend, forming steps from three to four feet high. Each took his Arab, and* kept ofi* the rest as best he could, and so began our ascent. There is no use to call it easy, as many have done. If there is a more joint-straining, knee-skinning, shudder- inspiring stairway on the face of the earth, I have never heard of it. Now the guide half drags you over the rough-edged stones, then you clamber up the high steps on all-fours. And as you look down to the base over the immense side, and think what a rough roll you would have if your foot should slip, you feel a twitching thrill of the nerves, which is anything but an agreeable sensa¬ tion, just there. Our Arabs took to racing. Mine was as fleet as a roe, bounding from step to step with in¬ credible agility. He held a firm grip at my hand, drag¬ ging me upward until I was almost out of breath. I scolded, begged, and coaxed him to desist ; but all to nc purpose. Half-way up the Pyramid is no place for re¬ senting Egyptian rudeness — graver matters to do and think about there. The cruel heathen dragged me to the top in eight minutes. After w^e had finished scolding the racing Arabs, and gotten over our panting, we feasted on the view our position commanded. The top of this Pyramid of Cheops is a square platform of thirty-two feet on each side. While looking down from this hoary eminence of the past, w^e attended to the wants of the outward man; and just then and there, with the, tomb 68 VIEW FROM A PYRAMID. of Cheops for our table, we relished our simple fare more than he ever did his kingly banquets. For the benefit of the more curious reader, who might wonder what a person could relish on the Pyramid, I would say that cold beef, eggs, bread and butter, said oranges, made up our meal. We had now reached a stand-point not often attained by mortals. On the eve of a great battle, Napoleon, addressing his army near the Pyramids, said : War¬ riors ! remember, from these monuments four thousand years look down upon you.” When Abraham came from Mesopotamia, this Pyramid was already many years old, w^hich the father of the faithful doubtless viewed with amazement. Jacob and Joseph, Moses, and most likely the Virgin and Jesus, looked at it with wonder. Here it has stood for 5000 years, survived all the generations of men that have lived since, survived Egypt’s greatness and fall. Still it stands firm. The Arabs have a pro¬ verb : “ Everything fears time, but time fears the Pyra¬ mids.” Viewing the world from such a place, the long ages seem like years, and the distance of antiquity is brought comparatively near. What a scope of objects the view embraces ! West¬ ward stretch out the rolling, trackless sands of the Ly- bian Desert. Vast sand-heaps, which the storm rolls and swells like the waves of the sea, loom up along the horizon. No tree nor plant, man nor beast, nor any living thing, is seen. The whole is a most complete pic¬ ture of lifeless desolation. Eastward spreads out the fertile plain of the Nile, like one continuous meadow, with grazing herds, and numerous mud-villages embowered among palm-trees — the mounds and palm-groves of Memphis distinctly in view, where lived the man on I DEATH OF AN ENGLISH OFFICER. 69 whose tomb we were sitting. The Nile threads its ma¬ jestic march through this living picture, like a mighty artist, which makes the whole, darting its life-colors over the plain through hundreds of canals. A short distance from its opposite bank was Grand Cairo, with its palaces and minarets, all shining white and lovely in the dis¬ tance. Beyond, Heliopolis, the land of Goshen, spread out in the dim distance — the blest region where Jacob and Joseph met. Many a haughty house and mighty race has sunk into oblivion — kingdoms and thrones have risen and fallen — since this marvellous pile was first reared. Still, the “ stranger ” from other lands gazes with wonder on its stupendous proportions. And so it will continue to be — the last monument of a primitive age, which promises to survive all other monuments and works of man. For a small present, one of our Arabs descended the Pyramid, ascended another one nearly as large, about a quarter of a mile off, then returned to the top of ours again — all in twenty minutes. He bounded over the large steps like a cat, and at the end of his task showed little fatigue. The blocks are so high, that the only con¬ venient way of descending is to run down without help. I found this the easiest and quickest plan, but reached the base with stiff and sore limbs, which left me in a limping plight for three or four days. The ascent of the Pyramids is not without its danger. A single misstep would send one rolling to the base. Stephens gives an account of an English officer who was killed in this way. While “ walking around the upper layer of stones, he fell, rolled down eight or ten steps, and caught. For a moment he turned up his fiice with an expression that his friend spoke of as horrible beyond 0l 70 USES OF THE PYRAMIDS. all description ; when his head sunk, his grasp relaxed, and he pitched headlong, rolling over and ove^ to the bottom of the Pyramid. Every bone in his body was broken. His mangled corpse was sewed up in a sack, and carried to Old Cairo, where it was buried.” There are three large Pyramids here, and many smaller ones — forty in all ; each a separate and distinct tomb, to encase the dust, proclaim and perpetuate the glory of men of old. Lepsius thinks that each king began the building of his Pyramid as soon as he ascended the throne. He only designed a small one, to ensure himself a com¬ plete tomb (at the end of each year), even were he des¬ tined to be but a few years upon the throne. But with the advancing years^of his reign, he increased it by suc¬ cessive layers on the outside, till he thought he was near the end of his life. If he died during the erection, then the external covering was alone completed, and the monu¬ ment of death finally remained proportionate to the dura¬ tion of the life of the king. Now, as by the rings of a tree we can calculate its age, so, by the layers and size of Pyramids w'e can count the years of the king’s life. King Cheops was the longest on the throne ; and so he get the largest number of layers, and the tallest Pyra¬ mid. Whole layers of blocks have been torn off from the top to the base, to build the palaces of the pashas ; and still they remain symmetrical and complete in form. The large Pyramid has a perpendicular height of 450 feet. The platform on which it is built is about 150 feet; so that its actual perpendicular height above the plain is about 600 feet. The base covers sixteen acres of ground. Ancient writers tell us that 100,000 men were constantly employed in its building for a period of thirty years. “ Every three months they were relieved by the same LEPSIUS’S INSCRIPTION. 71 number. Ten complete years were spent in hewing out the stones, either in Arabia or Ethiopia, and in convey¬ ing them to Egypt ; and twenty years more in build- mg it. At the entrance into the Pyramid is a tablet with hieroglyphics, put there by Lepsius and his associates, who constituted the celebrated scientific expedition which the King of Prussia sent to Egypt in 1842. The inscrip¬ tion reads as follows : Thus speak the servants of the King, whose name is the Sun and Rock of Prussia, Lep¬ sius the scribe, Erbkam the architect, the brothers Wei- denbach the painters, Frey the painter, Franke the moulder, Bonomi the sculptor. Wild the architect. — All hail to the eagle, the Protector of the Cross, to the King the Sun and Rock of Prussia, to the Son of the Sun, who freed his Fatherland, Frederick William the Fourth, the Philopator, the Father of his Country, the Gracious One, the Favorite of Wisdom and History, the Guardian of the Rhine, whom Germany has chosen the Dispenser of Life. May the Most High God grant the King, and his Consort, the Queen, Elizabeth, the Rich in Life, the Philometor, the Mother of her Country, the Gracious One, an ever new and long life on Earth, and a blessed habitation in Heaven through all Eternity. In the year of our Saviour, 1842, in the tenth month, on the fifteenth day, on the forty-seventh Birthday of his Majesty, on the Pyramid of King Cheops ; in the third year, in the fifth month, on the ninth day of the reign of his Ma¬ jesty ; in the year 3164 from the commencement of the Sothis period under the King Menepthes.” Josephus says the Hebrews had to build Pyramids, which may be true with respect to the smaller and later ones. Some of these are built of brick, perhaps the 72 THE SPHINX. result of the cruel labor which Pharaoh and the task¬ masters extorted from them. Near the large Pyramid is the Sphinx, a colossal statue over 250 feet in length. A large part of it still remains covered with sand. The head and forepart of the statue have been excavated. It looks out from its sterile sand-grave upon the verdant Nile-meadows, like a mysterious sentinel in the land of the dead, mutely musing over the living world. Looking out upon the Egypt of the Nile from here, I saw what must have always appeared to the Egyptian as two dis¬ tinct worlds. One a region of life, unutterably green and lovely, with its beautiful life-bearing Nile ; the other a lifeless region, a plantless, fountainless world of graves, where death reigns supreme. Great sand-waves, like snow-drifts, strive to submerge the living grassy plain, and still the annual swelling beats death hack into the desert, and extorts fruitfulness even out of the sand. But for the yearly inundations the desert would soon approach the banks of the Nile. Its mighty sway checks the sand-invader on its frontiers, where its proud waves must be stayed. On our return from the Pyramids we stopped at the village of Ghizeh to see the egg ovens. The hens of Egypt are less given to sedentary habits than their species in other quarters of the globe. After they have laid their eggs, they have little concern whether their offspring turn up in the form of poached eggs, omelets, or chicklings. But as such selfish notions would soon leave Egypt with- out eggs or chickens, the invention of man has stepped in and supplied ovens which hatch them by shoals. We crawled through a series of holes, over dust and fleas, into a heated apartment. The oven was perhaps as large as half a dozen ordinary-sized bake-ovens, heated to a EGYPTIAN EGG OVENS. 78 hatching temperature. The floor was strewn with a Liyer of fine hay, on which the eggs were laid. Some chicklings were just piercing and peeping through the shell with their little bills ; others were trying to kick ofi* their prison-house and rise above their shelly existence, scram¬ bling over their unfledged neighbors, while others were lazily lying about in uncovered contentment. This hot¬ bed step-motherly treatment gives to Egypt a dwarfish race of chickens, scarcely half the size of those in other countries. The Nile is the source of earthly good to the Egyptian. Without a tributary for nearly 1500 miles ; with a source,- which, after all the research of modern explorers, is veiled in mystery, its mighty unintelligible independence in¬ spires a respect in the Egyptian, which to this day amounts almost to adoration. Where does it rise, and through what realms does its young stream flow ? The rivers of other lands receive all, but give little. If their brooks and creeks withhold their streams, they dry up. But in the eyes of the Egyptian the Nile is a self- existent stream, that gets its waters from unknown resources ; like the Creator, it delights to give and bless, without telling where it gets wherewith to bless. For hundreds of miles the river flows slowly along with an equal volume of water, mild, majestic, and benignant, as his statue in the Vatican. Larger than the Thames, Rhine, or Danube in size, it is more like an American river than any I have seen in other lands. Its width varies from a half to three-quarters of a mile. The fertile inhabited part of Egypt is a strip of land from twenty to thirty miles wide, and 600 miles long. As It approaches the Mediterranean it becomes wider. This is fertilized by the yearly overflowing of the Nile. In 7 74 OVERFLOW OF THE NILE. June the river begins to rise, and reaches its greatest height in October. If it rises less than twelve or more than twenty-eight feet above low water, the crops will fail. Thus every year it brings from the depth of Ethiopia rich, black deposits, and spreads them over the plain. During the inundation Egypt looks like a vast lake with many islands. The villages are built on heaps or hills of earth ; the roads are raised on embankments, so that the intercourse and safety of the people is not interrupted by the flood. In many places the water is carried to the remoter parts of the plain by means of canals, and large tanks are filled to preserve a supply for irrigation during the dry season. The Jewish historian says that the Hebrews helped to build these canals and ramparts during their Egyptian bondage. During the last weeks of the swelling the excitement of the people becomes intense, for it is the harbinger of fruitful or barren years. Heralds run through the cities and over the country to proclaim the daily rising ; and when the reports are favorable their joy knows no bounds, for it is their meat and drink, their raiment and rest. In its favor they live, move, and have their earthly being. It brings life on their earth, and so becomes a striking image of ‘‘a pure river of water of life.” Kev. 22 : 1. Before the inundation all vegetation is parched and burned up, and the country looks dreary, like ours in mid winter. The subsiding of the waters covers it again with vernal life. Some peasants scatter their seed on the sinking water, which soaks with it into the black mud, and at once begins to grow without any further attention. Perhaps Solomon alludes to this custom, when he says : Cast thy bread upon the waters ; for thou shalt find it after many days.” Eccl. 11 : 1. Then .WINTER IN EGYPT. 75 too comes a rich feast for all manner of birds ; vultures, cormorants, and geese thrust their bills into the mud ; long lines of pelicans are busy along the water’s edge, and flocks of the ibis, a white bird the size of a chicken, fly through the air in white clouds. Cicero says : “ It was never known that any per&on in Egypt ever abused a crocodile, an ibis, or a cat ; for its inhabitants would have suffered the most extreme torments, rather than be guilty of. such sacrilege.” While eating the sweet fish of the Nile, and looking at these snow-white birds, I had often to think that these were adored by the men who , built Thebes and the Pyramids. The ibis is still a sacred bird to the Egyptians, which, like the stork among the Germans, is watched and protected with a half religious care. This accounts for their being so very numerous and tame. Winter is to the Egyptian what summer is to us. In February we saw the herds grazing amid the tall grass ; the wheat was in heads, and the flax in blossoms ; by day the air was warm as a Pennsylvania June, while the nights were cool. The hot sun and the absence of rain parches and dries up all vegetation in the summer. The cattle are fed with dry feed, and the country looks as dreary and bare as ours in winter. The plagues of Pha¬ raoh must have taken place in the latter part of February or beginning of March. When the plague of hail was sent, the cattle were grazing ‘Gn the field;” “the flax and the barley was smitten ; for the barley was in the ear and the flax was boiled.” Ex. 9 : 31-32. The locust followed in the wake of the hail, and devoured the re¬ maining vegetation. Generally barley and flax ripen in March, wheat and rye in April. In the region of the Delta, along the Mediterranean, 76 SYSTEM OF IRRIGATION. rain falls in scanty showers, but not enough to fertilize and moisten the earth. In middle Egypt, about Mem¬ phis and Cairo, they have less, and further south they have none at all. After the waters of the flood have all dried away, numerous pumps are started on the banks of the Kile, worked by large bufialoes. These consist of a vertical wheel, with small buckets hung to the cir¬ cumference, which empty their contents into a ditch, and send it over adjoining lots. Everywhere, from early morning till late at night, the heavy, weary creaking of these pumps is heard. Did not Solomon refer to these wheels, with buckets or bowls fastened by cords, when he spake of the decay and death of man ? “Ere the silver cord be loosed, Or the golden howl be broken, Or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, Or the wheel broken at the cistern/^ Eccl. 12 : 6. In Egypt, where these wheels draw living water from life fountains, this figure is very expressive when applied to the functions of the human body. Others draw water out of wells and cisterns by means of a transvei^se pole poised on an upright post. A weight is fixed to one end of the pole, and a bucket, hung at a rope, to the other. The weight is as heavy as the bucket when full, so that when it is filled with water it rises of itself. Sometimes the foot is used to get the empty bucket down. Of the rainless region and its tedious irrigation, we have a number of intima¬ tions in Bible history, sometimes contrasting its drought and Nile dependence with the copious rains of Canaan. “ For the land, whither thou goest in to possess it, is not as the land of Egypt, from whence ye came out, where thou sowedst thy seed, and wateredst it with thy foot, as - r IMPORTANCE OF THE NILE. 77 a garden of herbs : But the land whither ye go to pos¬ sess it, is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven.” Deut. 11 : 10, 11. The river and ponds abound in fish, and many are the nets and angles in pursuit of them. The fishers also shall mourn, and all they that cast angles into the brooks shall lament, and they that spread nets upon the waters shall languish.” Isaiah 19 : 8. It seems that one of the Pharaohs, having constructed canals to convey the water over Egypt, withheld the honor due to God for the rich harvests, because the fertile flood was borne over the plain through his agency. Then said, the Lord : “Be¬ hold I am against thee. Pharaoh, king of Egypt, which hath said, my river is mine own, and I have made it for myself.” Ezekiel 29 : 3. The dream of Pharaoh almost becomes a clear, intel¬ ligible prophecy, when viewed in the relation the Nile sustains to Egypt. Mediately it brings fruitful and bar¬ ren years. When the flood comes there will be a harvest, if it do not come there will be none. So the “ seven well- favored kine, and fat-fleshed,” that came up out of the river, were but so many annual inundations, which shed their blessings on the meadows. So, too, the ill-favored and lean-fleshed kine came up out of the river, and de¬ voured the others. For seven consecutive years there was a low Nile, and the drought burned up and devoured all the rich loam which the former seven years had be¬ stowed upon the land. Gen. 41. All the wells and cisterns of Egypt, whose water is tit to drink, derive their water from the Nile. And so when the river was turned into blood, all its dependent streams, ponds, pools, and wells became blood, “ through¬ out all the land of Egypt.” Indeed, the Nile has ever 7* 78 LAND TENURE OF EGYPT been the fountain of Egyptian prosperity and adversity. When the prophet foretold a great famine, it was because the river was “ wasted and dried up, and they should turn the rivers far away ; and the brooks of defence should bo emptied and dried up.” Isaiah 19 : 5—6. When one sees the exuberant productiveness of Egypt, still producing its ancient articles of food, and when he watches these hungry fellows sitting around their iron pans and pots, with flesh, as of old, the seditious He¬ brew complaint receives a vivid illustration: “Who shall give us flesh to eat ? We remember the fish which we did eat in Egypt freely ; the cucumbers, and the melons, and the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic.” Num. 11 : 4, 5. Would to God we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the flesh pots, and when we did eat bread to the full.” Ex. 16 : 3. The political condition of the Egyptians has ever been, more or less, one of slavery. Under the governorship of Joseph all sold their land for bread, “ Only the land of the priests bought he not.” Gen. 47 : 22. Joseph furnished them with seed, and allowed them four-fifths of the crops. Since then Egypt has groaned under long centuries of oppression, until her national life has almost become extinct. The late Pasha, or governor, without the ex¬ cuse of a famine, by a single decree declared himself the owner of all the lands of Egypt, and so the people are but his tenants at will. Not even the priests and mosques were spared. The Pasha is nominally but the governor of Egypt, under the control of the Sultan; but if he pays his tribute he can’ treat his subjects as he pleases. Himself a subject of Turkey, he is the tyrant of a nation of slaves. Every village is compelled to THE pasha’s military SYSTEM. 79 farm two-thirds of its land for the governor, and a large proportion of the remaining third is exacted for taxes. His manufactures monopolize labor. The people dare not even spin or weave the cotton which they raise, but are compelled to buy their clothing of him at his own prices. While slavery has been abolished, so that no one can own, buy, or sell a slave, all are the slaves of • the Pasha. His army consists chiefly of persons violently dragged from their families and homes, to be his life-long bond- men. These are kidnapped into the army. A few days before my arrival in Cairo, his ofiicers slily lighted down on Ghizeh, suddenly seized the young men in the streets, and dragged them off, without permission even to bid adieu to their parents and families. The village resounded with the most pitiful shrieks and lamentations ; the streets were filled with weeping mothers, almost fran¬ tic with grief: but the doom of their sons was sealed for life. To evade this cruel military slavery, mothers mutilate their infants. Old women and others, sometimes even parents, follow the cruel business of mangling children. You seldom find an able-bodied young man or youth, who has not one or more of his teeth broken out, that he may not be able to bite a cartridge ; a finger cut olF, an eye plucked out, or blinded altogether, to save him from being pressed into the army. Besides this there is no way of escape. We had three Egyptians in our party through the Desert, two of whom bore the marks of the cruel precaution of their mothers. The cook had but one eye, and the dragoman had his forefinger cut ofl’. Egypt still remains a “ house of bondage,” as really as in the days of Moses and Aaron. 80 DEGRADATION OF EGYPT. The ancient glory of Egypt is only seen in her tombs and temples. Her ancient spirit hovers sadly around the Pyramids ; she is the servant and slave of others, her people servile, cringing, and base. Her graves and tem¬ ples have been ransacked by strangers, her mummies and monuments of art are carried off to Rome, Berlin, London, and New York. The population has dwindled down to a mere fraction of its former number ; and what the plague and the Pasha have left, are to a great extent composed of cripples. Without schools, but a very few are able to read the Koran. With a tyrant at home, their land is owned by a foreign ruler. How literally the predictions of 2500 years ago have gone into fulfil¬ ment ! “ I will diminish them that they shall no more rule over the nations.’' Ezek. 29 : 15. “There shall be no more a prince of the land of Egypt : And I will put a fear in the land of Egypt.” Ezek. 30 : 13. What a light is shed on the history of Hebrew bondage, when read on the banks of the Nile ! Into this “river ” Pha¬ raoh charged his people to cast the Hebrew children. By this “river’s side” the daughter of Pharaoh found Moses. By the lifting of Moses’ rod all its waters “ were turned into blood, and after that it brought forth frogs abundantly.” Still the spirit of the people droops under the curse of fulfilled prophecy. Has Egypt a future ? The British highway to India leads through it. The locomotive whirls a daily train along the Nile from Cairo to Alexandria in seven hours. The Egyptians are borne along with a cool, satisfied air, as if railroads had been a common thing in the days of the Pharaohs. The shrill whistle utters sounds that might be prophetic of some¬ thing better. Even the present Pasha does and says some good V 81 Egypt’s future. things. He has fallen in love with European life. He is gradually introducing more civilized customs. Fifteen years ago every Frank traveller walking the streets of Cairo, w’earing a European or American hat or coat, was liable to he spit upon and bespattered with mud. Now any man can travel from Alexandria to Thebes with per¬ fect safety, provided he have a sound cane and an arm to * use it. The time may come when the soul and genius of old Egypt shall pass into a new people, and her soil be again strewn with works of greatness. Then ‘‘ the day shall come when the Lord of hosts shall bless, saying, Blessed be Egypt my people.” Isaiah 19 ; 25. 82 EOUTE TO JERUSALEM. CHAPTER V. /rnm (Kgtipt tn tjiB Ibh. The more direct route between Egypt and Jerusalem is that over Gaza, whose doors Samson carried off, and through the land of the Philistines, lying along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. This passes through a region less scant in water and grass than that over Suez and Mount Sinai. Here and there a village is found where provision can be bought. The distance is about 300 miles, and requires from twelve to fifteen days. Horses and asses are used here ; while only camels can be used on the other route. Abraham “ went down into Egypt ” over this route ; and the sons of Israel came to buy corn by the same way. “ Their asses ” could not have borne their burdens over the waterless and more deserted district of Sinai. When crops fail in Canaan, they still come ‘‘ down to buy corn in Egypt,” and transport it on these long-eared, big-headed little animals. Flocks of them are met on this road, laden with sacks of wheat, whose drivers, with their switches, constantly remind one of the sons of Jacob. “ Joseph went up to bury his father,” ‘‘with chariots and horse¬ men,” “a very great company;” a long, sad funeral- train dragged its solemn length after the embalmed corpse of the good old man for over 300 miles, ere they reached his grave. Joseph and the Virgin must PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY. 83 have fled to Egypt the same way. Doubtless this road was much travelled in the days of Moses, and well-known to him. But God led them not through the way of the land to the Philistines, although that would have been much nearer. A journey over the track of the Hebrews, past the Bed Sea and Mount Sinai, is more of an undertaking, being nearly again as far. I had the good fortune of meeting a congenial companion, Bev. Joseph B. Mann, from New York. I trust he will pardon me for introducing his name here, since I am indebted for much of the success, profit, and enjoyment of this part of my journey, to this intelligent and pious Christian gentleman. To a mind richly stored with sacred lore, he added the warm and genial sympathies of that ‘‘ faith which worketh by love.” Companions on such a pilgrimage, mingling their prayers and praises, tears and joys, amid scenes and altars of such holy renown, form ties lasting and sacred as the religion which they commemorate. May our Almighty Master soon restore him to that bodily vigor, which he so patiently, but alas ! vainly sought in a foreign clime, and permit him to use his rare talents in the service of His kingdom and for the salvation of souls. We employed Ahmed Saide, an efficient and intelligent dragoman, who has been in the service of Bayard Taylor and other noted Eastern travellers. He was to take us over the Mount Sinai route to Jerusalem, thence through Palestine and Syria, to Damascus, Baalbeck, and Beirut, furnishing us with boarding, beasts of burden, guards, and every thing else which necessarily belongs to such a journey, for the sum of $1,500. Small parties are always more expensive, while large ones have more wishes and tastes to gratify, and in the end are more 81 'LEAVE CAIRO. liable to dissatisfaction. In a few days Abrned had fitted up his tents, and laid in his necessary store of pro¬ vision. Our desert apparel consisted of turbaned grey felt hats, pantaloons overlaid with gazelle leather, soft, uncolored shoes, red flannel shirts, a black, coarse bur¬ nouse, like a cloak with a cowl or cap to it, a fez or little round red cap with a long black tassel on the crown, and of course an umbrella to keep the sun off. Arrayed in this fantastic garb, we bade adieu to our host on the morning of the 14th of March, and ap¬ proached our camels, kneeling under the shade-trees in front of his mansion. We were now going into a coun¬ try where the camel was the only vehicle of travel. On a saddle-frame, rudely nailed together, to fit on the hump of his back, were a pile of rags, mats, carpets, comforts, and camel bags made of carpet material. All this raised our seats into a region to which few carriages or riders of other countries can aspire. My first effort at mounting a camel came well nigh proving a failure. The brute sprang to his feet with such a sudden pitching motion as to give me no little trouble to cleave to his back. After leaning over our lofty seats, and pressing the hands of a few friends, our ‘‘ Ships of the Desert ” slowly sailed through a neighboring gate, then through a series of rank cactus fields, and at once entered upon the sterile desert. On a rising hill we passed a large burial- place, full of rude stones and grave-marks. No tree nor blade of grass was seen. The gravelly earth looked as dead and dreary as the graves. In a few hours we met our burden camels and their drivers, who had started the previous evening. On an eminence, about eight miles from Cairo, we looked back for the last time on the dream-like scenes we were leaving. The windmills, ANNOYANCES OF CAIRO. 85 minarets, and mosques stood prominently above the city ; the Pyramids rose out of their sand-field against the sky, seeming to swim in the dry, dense haze, the whole look¬ ing more like a dream-land than a reality. And now we turn our faces over devious paths toward the Land of Promise, perhaps never to see these land-marks of Old Time again. Those who have never tried it, would scarcely imagine with what a light and joyous heart one enters upon this desert journey. Deducting its annoyances, Cairo is a very interesting city for a few weeks’ study. But the crooked, crowded streets, with stores half spilt into them, passing over houses and under them ; the swarms of rude, impertinent donkey-boys with their braying asses — the cabs and cabmen of Cairo, alike the most useful and the most pestering of necessary evils in this part of the world — hungry fleas, flies, and a rich remnant of the third plague of Pharaoh, are too much for a man of ordinary powers of endurance to bear without discomfort. Before such an array of foes, flight is wiser than resist¬ ance. Then, too, there is something fascinating in the prospect of getting away for once from the busy hive and drive of men, out in the pure, free air of the untried desert, where you can step out of the old beaten paths of formal customs and conventionalities. Here no fenced- up road or forbidden path restricts your plans, but the wide, wide waste is open and free to your wandering predilections. Wherever fancy may lead you, and the smooth earth offer you a soft bed, you can pitch your tent, and with a gun by your side, call it your own for the night. Our caravan numbered fifteen men in all. The gene¬ ral-in-chief was our dragoman, Ahmed Saide, a Theban 8 86 AN EGYPTIAN COOK. by birth. He was a true specimen of a thorough-bred Egyptian. Though naturally very intelligent, he could neither read nor write. He told us he had only one wife, nearly white, and an interesting son, nine years old, whom he has already betrothed to a cousin. ’ He says his wife wishes ‘‘to be glad” in the marriage festivities and happy family of her son before she dies. Waiting till children are so old, he remarked, often deprives pa¬ rents of these enjoyments. He thinks he will let him marry in a year or two, and is now already educating him for the Mahommedan Priesthood. Arrayed in fine Eastern costume, with two five-barrel revolvers in his belt, a gun and long sword hung to his saddle, he forms one of the most prominent and picturesque personages in the group. Mahommed Abdraghman, our cook, was also an Egyptian. He had but. one eye, dark mulatto com¬ plexion, was pock-marked, and past middle life. He was a kind-hearted man, of few words, and by a long and faithful service in his department of earthly usefulness, has rendered himself famous as a preparer of savory dishes. In this way he has aided the investigations of modern science, in that he was cook for Lepsius, the leader of the celebrated Prussian scientific expedition to , Egypt. Poor fellow ! he can never write his name, much less a book ; but a man that prepares healthful food for one who labors in the cause of science, helps to give spring and vigor to his mind, and humbly contributes his mite to the great cause of human improvement. Then we had Firage, our waiter, a Nubian boy, nearly grown, jet black and jovial, a real jolly negro. Ahmed bought him with his mother; but since the Pasha has abolished slavery, he remains with his kind master from choice. Our caravan consisted of ten camels, led by OUR BEDOUIN GUARD. 87 ten swarthy Bedouins, one of whom acted as sheikh or captain. They were armed with short swords, bowie- knives and guns, •which, added to their native looks of untrained wildness, were anything but suggestive of pleasant thoughts. Their shaven heads were stuck in a clumsy turban, coiled round the temples like a heavy twisted towel. Their little piercing eagle eyes peered out of their sunken sockets, giving them a contemplative and mysterious look. And these are to be our only pro¬ tectors on this unsheltered wilderness ! Nothing ven¬ tured nothing won. “ If God be for us, who shall he against us?” As we rode up to them, they sullenly greeted us with the customary “Peace be with thee,” touching the breast, lips, and forehead with the right hand. Going into a region where no provision, save an occasional lamb or kid, could be bought, we took with us a supply : two large casks of filtered Nile water, which was all the good water we had for nearly two weeks ; a chicken coop with thirty chickens, and several turkeys, besides all the indispensable little table, kitchen, and bed conveniences, crammed into bags, bales, and chests, were piled and hung on our slow train. ■ The face of the country between Cairo and the Red Sea is not a sandy waste, as some imagine, hut a coarse, pebbly soil, hard and barren. Not a foot of cultivated land. The surface is uneven, varying into low, rolling hills. Low bushes of hashish^ a species of pale, rough, woody grass, were seen here and there, and after long intervals, a thorn tree. Our road was a broad, beaten track, smooth and "well used, running straight as a rail¬ way over a prairie. Travelling over it, I had often to think of the road which the forerunner of Christ was to prepare, and “ make straight in the desert a highway 88 THE MIRAGE. for our God.” Isaiah 40 : 3. The ‘‘stones” and “stum¬ bling blocks ” were piled on heaps by the roadside. -Isaiah 62 : 10. No human dwelling is found along the road, save telegraphic posts at intervals of five miles. These consist of a walled enclosure, for the accommodation of travellers, and have a few soldiers to protect them. All the Anglo-Indian travel passes over this road, which ac¬ counts for its improved condition. But the country through which it passes is a most perfect desolation, with no blade of verdure to relieve its dreariness. Far as the eye can reach, the scene is bare and barren. No beast or bird is seen, except vultures of enormous size, preying on the carcasses of camels that perished by the way. We passed large caravans from Suez, laden with India merchandise. One numbered 190 camels. The second day we saw mirage for the first time. The tepid water in our leathern bottles, hung to each one’s saddle, was already becoming tasteless, when a lake of fresh water would have been very refreshing. Scarcely a mile from us large lakes suddenly appeared, fringed with trees, but always flaked away into- nothing as we approached them. It seems this illusion is produced by an unequal refraction of the lower strata of the atmosphere. One, unaccustomed to this mode of travelling, can hardly conceive how all the causes and effects of home comforts, animate and inanimate, in all their details, can be carried on camels. After spending nine and ten hours on these animated rocking chairs, a convenient spot is selected to encamp. The Arabs jerk at the halt¬ ers and blow through their teeth to bring the camels down on their knees. The baggage is untied, a bale un¬ rolled, and lo ! it swells and spires up into a full-grown DESERT ENCAMPMENT. 89 and graceful tent. The nimble Arabs run from rope to rope, fastened to wooden pins which they drive into the earth. In half an hour, we have a neatly furnished dwelling, and can take a gentle siesta on our bed-sofas. Kind reader, hast thou ever been tired ? If thou hast never endured the swinging gait of a camel beneath an Eastern sun, with only warm water to drink for ten con¬ secutive hours, I doubt whether thou knowest what it is to be weary. We step down from our camels, and at once recline on the earth for rest. A few moments bring sleep and dreams of far-off friends and home, which are soon dispelled by a shout from Ahmed, telling us that the tent is ready. In the meanwhile, another bale ex¬ pands into kitchen proportions, with all the unnameable array of pan, pot, and kettle furniture, in full blast. The camels browse among the dry desert bushes, the chickens, running at large, cackle merrily around our camp, giving our newly-acquired desert premises quite a cozy rural aspect. Presently Firage spreads the table, and then comes the pleasanter part of our adventures. The camels are brought to the tents and made to kneel around them in a circle. Within the circle, ram¬ parts are formed with camel-saddles and luggage — an intrenchment on a small scale. In the centre of the small enclosure the Arabs kindle a brush-fire. While the rest are seated around it, one will mix unbolted ground barley with water, in a wooden dish, make a large cake and cover it with the coals. Of course these large cakes are unleavened, and made with little trouble. The kneading and baking is in perfect keeping with Sarah’s plan : Make ready three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes upon the hearth.” Gen. 18:6. And the Hebrews, somewhere in this region, 8* 90 THEDESERT AT NIGHT. ‘‘baked unleavened cakes.” Ex. 12: 39. In the morn¬ ing, they soak the dry remains of the previous evening, sometimes each “dipped a sop” into the dish of water. John 13 : 26. This is their best and worst fare, in the strength of which they walk ten and twelve hours with¬ out any perceptible fatigue. Their supper over, they smoke their long pipes, reclining round the fire. We sit in the cool of the evening before the door of the tent. A soothing coolness pervades the air, fresh without being cold, a temperature unlike any in more northern or more southern climes. The stars look so pretty and pure, that one never wearies in looking at them. While look¬ ing, we listen to the awful hush of the desert. No bay¬ ing watch-dog, or buzz of bug or insect is heard — nought but the silence of solitude, only broken by an occasional suppressed sound of an Arab’s remark, or the petulant murmur of a camel. Night in the desert, though void of the sweet music of rustling leaves and chirping crick¬ ets, has a peculiar charm. Not the charm of novelty only, but of delights peculiarly its own. The vast, life- deserted, uninhabited expanse around you, the starry heavens above you, and the thought of being alone in this land of awful stillness, give you feelings which can only find rest in worship. Here, more than in any country I have seen, one feels “How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air.” Our Bedouin groups watch the glowing coals, and the smoke curling up in spiral pillars. One after another rolls himself up in his coarse blanket, and takes special care, to cover his head, that the moon may “not smite BEDOUIN WATCH-FIRE. 91 him by night.” Psalm 121.: 6. Their turbans wrapped thick around the head protect them against the sun by day. Here they sleep, and sleep sweetly, with the bare earth for their bed, the sky for their canopy, while a few wake in turn as guards, around a watch-fire, and beguile the still long hours of night in humming the story of Aboused, a noted chieftain of their tribe. But we must see this whole picture in detail, and so we steal around the enclosure to look at it. All is still as the grave. No sound of life, neither cricket, katydid, nor owl, is heard. Only the deep long breath of the sleeping Bedouin, and the drowsy, careless muttering of the guards. Baggage, chests, chickens, camels, and men huddled together in moonlight, tents and stars around and over us, friends and home over on the other side of the earth, now in broad daylight, finish our mental pic¬ ture for the day. We commit ourselves to Israel’s keeper, and sweetly sleep in our frail tabernacle, leaving Him to attend to the robbers far and near. A slight fumbling to untie the string of our curtain- door, awakes me; and in peeps the black head of Firage, showing his white teeth, and blundering a “ good morn¬ ing,” which simply means, “Please get up.” Well, we rise with the sun. We read a chapter or two from the history of the Exodus, associated with our brief dwelling place, and commit ourselves in prayer to Israel’s guide While taking our breakfast, the Bedouins bale and pack our affairs, and scarcely have we passed the threshold ere our dwelling falls into pieces, and shrinks into a bale of baggage. How often this reminded me of the disso¬ lution of our earthly house ! “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eter- 92 MONOTONOUS JOURNEY. nal ill tlie heavens.” 2 Cor. 5 : 1. While the loading is going on, the greatest noise and confusion prevail. Bedouins shout and scold, hunting, pulling, and tying ropes; and while the baggage is tied on, the kneeling camels snarl and grunt as if they were trying to die. In a few moments the kitchen is locked into chests, furniture into hales and bundles, chickens into the coop, and our whole unabiding city slowly moving towards the promised land. Our journey is monotonous. We meet neither stream, town, nor dwelling, to relieve the tedium. An occasional thorn tree is quite an exciting discovery. Should we happen to meet one of these about noon, we take our noonday meal in the shade. The latter per¬ haps consisting of a cold fowl, with a few figs and oranges. Our Bedouins are in a high glee, now telling stories, then urging their camels, by praising their faithfulness in little songs, and promising the Prophet’s blessing if they are good, and much kindness when they get home. In all my travels, I noticed but one instance where a Bedouin beat his camel. Ours were treated with the tenderest kindness, whether from motives of affection or. gain, I know not. A slight tap would raise the ire of my leader, with the impatient “la, la” (no, no). Ever¬ more, he would stroke and pat the uncomely beast, even praise him for his faults, and would hear nothing about him but “taib, taib” (good, good). As for their external appearance, the camel was rather the better looking of the two. His halter was studded with shells of different colors, and his long-haired garment looked none the worse for being unwashed. That part of the Arab which boasted of clothing, was covered with a garment of less cleanly pretensions. The first day, my leader BEDOUIN COSTUME. 93 made a suit while he led his camelj with a view, as he said, of taking his wife by surprise in his new and white apparel. He made it of coarse unbleached muslin, sowed it together without any cutting whatever — a proficiency in the sewing art to which few of his craft of fairer skin nave attained. But a Bedouin’s wardrobe is very simple in its make. His whole apparel is nearly equivalent to the shirt of his white brother, only that he has no sleeves and collar. His shoes or sandals are equally simple — a piece of the dry skin of a fish tied to the sole of the foot, with a few straps (‘Matchets”) of the same. Some of their chiefs still have servants, the lowest and most unworthy of whom must untie their sandals. John the Baptist compares himself with one of these, in the ser¬ vice of Christ : “ The latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose.” Luke 3 : 16. A figure more expressive of unworthiness could not be used in the East. The first day, we encamped about twenty-two miles from Cairo. On the following day, our track ran parallel to Mt. Attakah, and several miles from its base. It is supposed by some that the Hebrews approached the Red Sea along this mountain. We met a number of cabs conveying India passengers from Suez to Cairo (a distance of eighty miles) — a most uncomfortable, nondescript vehicle, with two wheels under a large board box. The third morn¬ ing we passed ‘‘Ajerud,” a station for the Mecca pil¬ grims, and which Stanley thinks may possibly mark the site of Pi-hahiroth. Ex. 14 : 2. A fortified wall formed an enclosure for protection, containing the tomb of a Mohammedan saint. Without was a well of bitter water. North and south of us were bald red mountain chains, running parallel with the road, four or five miles 94 SUEZ. distant. At noon, we lunched in the shade of a tele¬ graphic tower, or post station. We saw the Red Sea several hours before we reached its shore ; but the mi¬ rage had so often deceived us that we were slow to trust its appearance. Finally, we arrived at Suez in the early part of the afternoon of our fourth day from Cairo. This is a town of 1400 inhabitants, with a shattered wall on three sides, and the sea on th« fourth. Its ap¬ pearance is not unlike a large khan or ‘‘inn.” A num¬ ber of strangely-constructed boats, great and small, were lying here. The timber and other material for these vessels, were brought from Cairo on camels. Some of the sailors (Arabs, Turks, and Chinese,) were sporting about on the wharf ; others were performing their devo¬ tions on the decks, it being 3 p. M., the ninth hour of day, while a party of India Englishmen were perform¬ ing their ablutions in the sea. A stroll through the bazaar convinced us that, in point of filth and fleas, it was not much behind the other towns of Egypt. As this was the last place deserving the name of a town this side of Hebron and Palestine, from which we were separated by one month’s travel, Ahmed added to his stock of provision. Two hours gave us all that we wished to see or buy in this filthy port of India travel. The town of Suez is situated on the Red Sea, a few miles from its northern extremity. Part of our cara¬ van w'as sent directly around the head of the gulf to meet us on the opposite side. We hired a boat to ferry us directly across, it being about a half or three-quarters of a mile wide here. Our clumsy craft ran aground before we reached the shore, whereupon two brawny Bedouins acted boat and pilot. Each seizing a leg, they held me tremblingly above the water, pushed and stag- THE RED SEA. 05 gered through the swelling surf, and filling me with thoughts of an unwilling plunge into the briny deep. In the meanwhile one of our Bedouins brought the camels we had ridden from Suez round the head of the sea. It being low tide, the poor fellow concluded to take a near cut, thinking it to be the natural depth of the water. He literally worked against wind and tide, the waves still rising around him as he looked wishfully and sorrow¬ fully toward the shore. The slow camels, the welling rising tide, the waves and his short legs, as he said, nearly proved his ruin. Bonaparte, in his expedition to Egypt, attempted to ford the sea, perhaps to show that it could be crossed without the intervention of a miracle. It was about getting dark, and the tide rose and flowed more rapidly than he had expected. Though he had guides with him, his rash attempt was soon rebuked by the waters, from which he narrowly escaped with his life. Our Arab boatmen dropped us on the shore of Arabia and Asia. This strip of water, the Gulf of Suez, the western arm of the Bed Sea, is the boundary between Asia and Africa. While waiting for our wave-ridden Bedouin, \ve picked up shells, viewed the sea up and down the coast, and thought and spoke of the fugitive Hebrews crossing it somewhere in sight. For three hours we rode southward, along a path nearly parallel with the sea, over a plain of rough gravel and sand. The sea was in view, and of the sea we spoke and thought, for it is still the great mounment of God’s willingness to in¬ terpose in behalf of his people. We reached Ayoun Mousa (the wells of Moses), an hour after sunset (7 p. m). It was a long and weary day’s journey, and yet a weariness full of the most delightful interest and satis- 96 SUNDAY AT SUEZ. faction. Soon Mohammed, our patient cook, fanned his charcoal-fire before his tent, and got his pans simmering and steaming with incipient dishes. Our temporal wants attended to, 'we strolled around the tents, meditating and wondering over the strange things that happened here more than three thousand years ago. A singular place is this, where we shall tarry over Sabbath, the only green spot this side of Cairo. Here is a green island of tamarisk trees in this treeless Desert, growing among seventeen wells — holes scooped out of the earth from four to six feet deep. A vegetable garden, belonging to the English Consul-General at Suez, adds to its cheerfulness, all refreshed and fertilized by the wells. I believe the place is not mentioned in the Bible. But as it certainly lies within the range of the Hebrew Passage, it is natural that tradition and conjecture should assign it a place in that memorable scene. It is reputed to have been the first stopping-place after they reached the opposite shore, where Moses and Miriam composed and sang their songs. Ex. 15. We read them during our evening devotions so as we had never read them before. The next day was the Sabbath. Our tents were half an hour from the sea. There we read, sang, prayed, and spoke together. At our arrival the evening before, we met a Mr. Smith and lady from London, who asked the privilege of worshipping with us. Some of our Bedouins sat a short distance from our tents listening, with apparent wonder, to our praises. Standing in sight of the sea, we sang Watts’ version of the 121st Psalm, “ Upward I lift mine eyes.” Here, under the scorching Bun of a southern clime, in a sterile, inhospitable waste. ATTAKAH AND DERAJ. 97 one finds great relief in pouring out his heart through such stanzas as the third of this Psalm. “No burning heats by day, Nor blasts of evening air, Shall take my health away, If God be with me there. Thou art my sun, and thou my shade, To guard my head by night or noon.^^ In the afternoon we strolled along the beach, musing over the scene. Immediately opposite two mountain ranges, Attakah and Deraj, receded from the sea, form¬ ing a valley, through which occurred the traditional ap¬ proach of the Hebrews. The more northern range forms an angle with the sea on the north side, of perhaps thirty or forty degrees. Here some locate the Passage. Others again would have it nearer Suez, where it is only a mile or two wide. Then there are places w^here it can be forded during low tide, where modern Rationalists get the Hebrews across without the intervention of mir¬ aculous power. But unfortunately for their theory, the gulf is so narrow here that one cannot see how the host of Pharaoh, with the chariots and horsemen,” could all be pressed in at one time, so as to be covered with the water. Robinson thinks the arm of the sea was anciently wider and deeper here. But, even admitting this, it is hard to see how they could have been entangled” here, unless we suppose the Egyptians to have surrounded them in a semicircle. To my mind, the second passage named is by far the most in accordance with the narrative. Mount Attakah, forming the above-named angle, meets the sea some eight or ten miles below Suez. Toward this corner the large affrighted multitude of Moses was moving. Eight 9 Q 98 TJIE HEBREW PASSAGE. or ten miles furtlier north they might have rounded the gulf on dry ground ; hut Moses was told to lead them between Migdol and the sea. Why? Going down on this side of the sea towards Mount Attakah, ‘‘Pha¬ raoh will say, they are entangled in the land, the wil¬ derness hath shut them in,” with the rugged mountain before them and on the right, himself and his army behind them, and the sea on their left. At Suez and above it, the sea is from three-quarters to a mile in width. South of Attakah, at the valley first mentioned, it is twelve miles wide. Northward its breadth dimin¬ ishes as you approach Suez. Ex. 14., Wherever they may have crossed, there can be no doubt that our view, from where we stood on the beach that Sabbath afternoon, extended over a scope which included the passage. Fancy the vast multitude, two millions of souls, approaching the sea at nightfall, right along the opposite shore, upbraiding Moses. They had been travelling three long and hard days ; hungry, weary, and disheartened. They heard the Egyptians pursuing, though “ not near ” yet. Night was on them ; they were shut in by the sea and the mountain.^ Then the vast multitude pours its murmuring complaints on this meek and mighty Moses, the servant of the most high God, for leading them into such a dilemma. He approached the shore, raised his arm, and lo ! the east wind divided the waters. “And the children of Israel went into the midst of the sea upon dry ground ; and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand and on their left.” They crossed and crowded on the opposite bank and plain, perhaps where we stand, for they must have covered an area of miles around. The Egyptians, with carriage, horse, and footmen, dash in after them. Then OVERTHROW OF THE EGYPTIANS. 99 the Lord overthrew them in the midst of the sea, cover¬ ing the charints and horsemen and all the host of Pha¬ raoh that came into the sea after them.” The falling tide left the dead Egyptians strewn upon the sea shore. “ The Egyptian whom they had seen yesterday, they will see no more forever.” The sea and shores bear such a matter-o^-fact appearance, that it requires but little effort of fancy to bring the whole vividly before your mind. The sun set behind a transparent cloud, which hung the heavens with colors like a fiery drapery, and reflected a broad road of rosy light across the dark blue sea. Methought such a light-path, the pillar of fire ” must have laid on the sea, to one standing on the oppo¬ site shore on that eventful night. This Red Sea Sabbath closed less peacefully than it began. While quietly sitting in our tent at night-fall, we heard a quick breath of air, a few heavy drops of rain, then sudden puffs of wind blew in the side of the tent. Rather let the house go than be crushed or carried off with it. For a moment I vainly held it up, then we sprang through the curtain-door, without untying the cord. The air was full of sand, hailing and rattling on head and house. The tent reeled and flapped to and fro under the torturing grip of the storm. The cord-pins flew out of the moistened sand ; once the i opes were loose the storm had it all its own way. Every moment I expected to see our house fleeing from us. Meanwhile Ahmed tried to make his orders heard above the noise of the “howling wilderness.” The Bedouins fought man¬ fully, some holding on to the cords, others trying to throw new ones over the central pole, others again driving new pins into the sand, all wildly shouting and running around, like men trying to defy the elements. Here 100 STOKM ON THE RED SEA. one holding on to his turban, there one flinging his arms about in a phrenzj of excitement, others throwing their blankets over head to shelter them against the sand, while the storm blew the shreds of their sooty slips in all directions. Yet amid this savage confusion of storm and Bedouins, every man seemed to know what he was about, and did something that had to be done. When the storm abated, we hardly knew whether to venture into our sorry tent for the balance of the night. We retired, uncertain whether we should not awake, en¬ tangled in the folds, or in pursuit of our fugitive house. But Israel’s Keeper, who neither sleepeth nor slumber- eth,” kept us in safety. Our house, like the life of the foolish man, was built upon the sand, in which the cord- pins would not hold after it was soaked. “ The rain descended, and the winds blew, and beat upon the house, and it fell.” Matt. 7 : 26, 27. Every one caught in such a pelting sand-storm in the desert after night, will know what the Bible means by ‘‘ the waste howling wilder¬ ness.” Deut. 32 : 10. DESERT ILLUSIONS. 101 CHAPTER VI. /rnm tti^ Eii Ibh tn 3fiDttnt linai. March 1857. — We started from Ayoun Mousa, in company with our English friends. In the wilderness one will not stand on much ceremony for an acquaint¬ ance when you meet those who worship your God and speak your language ; nor are friendships formed here easily broken or forgotten. It was a lovely morning, — a pleasant relief after such a storm. The bracing and balmy air laden with an exhilarating sea-breeze, forced every one either to sing or talk. Our journey led us southward, in sight of the sea, whose color was of a dark deep blue, excelling in beauty any of the Scotch or Swiss lakes that I had seen. The chain of mountains beyond was veiled in a soft bluish light, so transparent that they seemed more like the unrolling of a panorama than a reality. Large illusive lakes again spread out over the distant plain, skirted with lofty trees. As we approached them the water vanished into air, and the trees into bushes of dry desert grass. Four or five miles east of us was a range of mountains of a brownish, sand¬ stone color, running parallel to the sea. The next day we continued in the same direction. The trees entirely disappeared again, and naught remained but hashish, dry, leafless grass, resembling small, dead brush-wood, which our camels cropped oif with no little zest. A marvellous 9* 102 M A R A H . masticating machine these animals have. They grind up thorn-branches full of sharp pins, as eagerly and easily as a bunch of grass. Toward noon of the second day, we descried a small clump of palm-trees in the distance — a sure sign of water, either above or below ground. Ahmed at once said it was Marah. On a small elevation, like an artificial heap of earth, we found a well, five or six feet deep, and per¬ haps as many feet in diameter, with about two feet of water. A few small palm-trees were the only signs of life around it. Languid and thirsty, having carried our warm iTile water for more than a week through the sun, and panting for a fresh drink as the hart panteth for the water-brooks, we hastily alighted to taste our new-found well. But who could drink such stuff? Its bitterness only mocked our thirst ; and with a keen feeling of dis¬ appointment, perhaps of half-suppressed murmuring, we turned to our leathern bottles for a tepid draught. “ So Moses brought Israel from the Red Sea, and they went out into the wilderness of Shur ; and they went three days in the wilderness, and found no water. And when they came to Marah, they could not drink of the waters of Marah ; for they were bitter ; therefore the name of it was called Marah.” Ex. 15 : 22, 2.3. For three days they had travelled without water — a great multitude — at least two millions of souls — old people and the sick, deli¬ cate women, with their infants, trying to keep up with the crowd, all trudging over the hot earth, beneath a burning sun, as best they could. We can imagine how persons burning up, and delirious with fever, would cla¬ mor and beg for water ; how children shrieked and w^ailed in the arms of mothers, until, like Hagar, they laid them out of sight, that they might not see their pitiful and life’s m arah. 103 distressing end. Strong men reeled for want of water. Then came the welcome news, water. Maim,” the Be- douin still cries, and reverently praises his Allah when the precious water is found. Those nearest the bitter pool rush to get a draught, but turn away with nauseous disgust. The report of its bitterness soon spread through the camp, and the languishing, enfeebled crowd, gave vent to their disappointment in murmurings against Moses ; “ saying. What shall we drink ? ” Though sinful, under the circumstances, it was human to murmur, as those will find who travel through this part of Arabia in certain seasons of the year. From the Wells of Moses, where the Hebrews crossed the Red Sea, to Marah, it took us fifteen hours, which would make the distance about thirty-five miles. So great and turbulent a multi¬ tude as the Hebrews, would at least require ‘‘three days ” to travel such a distance. Weary and faint, we turned away from Marah, to seek the shadow of a high projecting rock, where we took our noonday repast ; meanwhile speaking of the beautiful imagery of Isaiah, foretelling the blessedness of Christ’s kingdom, which shall be “As rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.” Isaiah 32 : 2. How many little Marahs we encounter in life’s pil¬ grimage ! Bitter waters are given us when we are well- nigh ready to perish. Our spirits yearn for rest, but it comes through affliction and sorrow. “ E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears, And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears." Sometimes, perhaps, we turn away from the cup of grief with murmuring impatience. But Christ turns our Ma- 104 HIGHWAYS OF THE DESERT. ♦ rahs into fountains of sweet water. When God opens our eyes, we see, like Hagar, a gracious “ well of water.^' When we ‘‘cry unto the Lord,” he shows us “a tree” which makes the waters sweet. And these are the sweet uses of adversity — Marah — that it shows us the healing tree of life, Jesus Christ. Towards evening we encamped in Wady Ghurundel — supposed to be the Elim of the Bible. Ex. 15 : 27. The twelve wells are no longer seen ; but the sand is saturated with bitter water, where our Bedouins scooped out small basins, in which they gathered enough to water their camels. Numerous tamarisk bushes are scattered over the little valley, and a few palm-trees — perhaps the lineal descendants of the “ threescore and ten.” Hitherto we have been traversing plains ; to-day we have entered into the intricate mountain-texture of Sinai — no continuous ranges, but short arms, meeting and parting at every conceivable angle. Their bases are never far apart ; forming narrow valleys, here called wadys. The Bedouin always names the mountains after the wadys which surround them. They are not like our valleys, but rather resemble a dry, deep river-bed, from - a hundred yards to a mile and more in breadth. Seem¬ ingly, they have been washed or worn out by mountain torrents, strewing their track sometimes with large rocks, and giving them a rough surface ; and these are again traversed by smaller water-courses. These crooked wadys are the highways of the wilderness — the only means of communication between the different sections of it. No tree or plant is seen on the mountains, save occasionally a stunted thorn in some secluded nook, where winter torrents have left disintegrated rocks. •• Here we wander between these rugged mountain walls, ^ WILDERNESS OF SINAI. 105 which shut out every breeze, and whose bald surface in¬ tensifies the refiected rajs of the sun, with no water save the tepid remains of what we brought from Cairo a week ago. Often we seem to come to the end of the road by running square up against a mountain ; but as often find a way out through some deep lateral gorge. Soon an¬ other blocks up our path. So we shift and shirk, like a ship steering against the wind by side courses. The mountains rise all around, shutting out every view but the lofty, lifeless peaks. One blessed look-out is left to the weary eye — up to the heavens. Here literally no¬ thing but heaven and hills can be seen. All the time we seem to be wandering and winding along in deep, dry river-beds, with jagged mountains for their banks. These banks resemble the tracks of water torrents. N “He turneth rivers into a wilderness, And the water-springs into dry ground ; A fruitful land into barrenness, For the wickedness of them that dwell therein.^' Psalm 107 : 33. Here we were, hemmed in on every side, deep down between the high granite mountains, like the men who taunted Job : “ In the clefts of the torrents to pitch their tents, In the caves of the earth and the rocks.^^ Job 30 : b. There is no book in the Bible whose imagery is so much taken from the stern scenery of this Arabian wil¬ derness as that of Job. As Bonar justly observes : ‘‘From the first chapter to the last, the book of Job is the book of the desert, as truly as Ecclesiastes is the 106 A BEDOUIN FIGHT. book of the palace, Proverbs the book of the city, Can¬ ticles the book of the garden, Romans the book of the forum, Hebrews the book of the altar, and the Apoca¬ lypse the book of the temple.” The Bible reader must often wonder what weapons the Amalekites used when fighting with Joshua at Re- phidim. We know that the Egyptians had their war- chariots, and their monuments clearly describe their arms and armor. But down here among these untrained no¬ madic hordes of Sinai, we cannot expect to find much beyond what nature furnishes — a shepherd’s crook, and the stone and sling. A fierce little battle between two Bedouins gave me a faint idea how they might have man¬ aged their quarrels among themselves. The man to superintend the caravan went by the name of sheikh. In the morning, as was his custom, he assigned a portion of the baggage to each camel. The owner of one, think¬ ing that he piled on more than his share, fiung it off again. The sheikh put it back again, which resulted in his being laid prostrate on the earth. Having regained his feet, they lustily set to boxing one another’s ears. They thwacked away with fiendish scowl, but only with the palm of the hand, on the side of the head. It seems they have too much respect for the human face divine to disfigure it with the battering fist ; in which respect, they are in advance of more civilized people. A knife was drawn from the belt of one of them, but no sooner drawn than dropped. The palm of the hand being rather an inefficient weapon, they changed their tactics by collar¬ ing each other — if such a word can be used where no collars are worn. By this time Ahmed discovered the affray, and commanded them to desist. Refusing to obey, he threw himself between the combatants, and wedged BEDOUIN ARMS. 107 them apart ; meanwhile showering a volley of fierce gut¬ turals upon them for disturbing the peace of the camp. Once separated, they seemed to be oblivious of the past, and chatted and laughed as friendly as ever. Among the tormentors of our Saviour, were some who “ smote him with the- palms of their hands.'' John 18 : 22. The word in the original is sometimes translated “rods;” if the translation in our version be correct, it shows that then, as now, smiting with the palm of the hand was not unusual among combatants. In hunting, or when fighting with their enemies, the Arabs or Bedouins, who are at least the successors, if not the descendants, of Amalek, universally use the gun, both in hunting and war ; in which respect they are greatly in advance of the ancient Amalekites. This is about the only noticeable instance in which they have departed from their primitive simplicity. In this region, almost every Bedouin is armed with this modern weapon. Whether you meet him alone, urging his camel over the solitary waste, or in a caravan, the gun slung across his back seems as natural as the turban on his head. And generally he is a good shot. His keen eagle eye, which peers into the distance with an almost preternatural vision, and espies the smallest speck on the remote hori¬ zon, and his steady arm, unimpaired by over-exertion, trained in the free, unhampered action of nature, are calculated to make him an adept in the use of this weapon. Occasionally we passed retem-bushes — the same as the “juniper” under whose shade Elijah slept in his wan¬ derings. We afterwards met with them “a day’s jour¬ ney ” south of Beersheba, where the prophet found them. They are about as large as our elder-bushes, with white 108 INTENSE HEAT. blossoms and narrow leaves. In Psalm 120 : 4, we read of “coals of juniper.” The Bedouins still burn this wood into charcoal. Job (30 : 4) says the famishing “ eat up juniper roots for their meat and many of the half-starved Bedouins still do the same. How grateful still their shade in this sultry, treeless region ! Often we crouched under their scanty branches at our noonday respite. 1 Kings 19 : 4. Again we found a few holes scooped out of the sand, containing bitter water; and afterwards a few rills, in a rough wady, which soon leaked under ground again ; but all bitter — fit only for camels and palm-trees, of which there were several near the water. The day (11th of March) was intensely hot. Long before noon, the ground under us, and the bald, high rocks, fencing in the narrow valleys through which we journeyed, were simmering with heat. The sultry atmo¬ sphere, warm water, and jogging, swinging camels, pro¬ duced depressing languor. In between these deep moun¬ tain cuts we wandered, through short valleys, ever chang¬ ing, now eastward, now westward, the only view beyond the red rocks being up to the blue sky. After turning nume¬ rous corners we finally emerged through a gorge-like cut from this bleak rock-prison upon the sea-shore. In sum¬ mer time any sea-breeze is refreshing, but nothing so well prepares one for its enjoyment as the confined hot air of the interminable Arabian wadys. The rugged mountain? at some places dipped into the sea, and the tide just rising, here and there ebbed across our path. Scarcely had we encamped before a general rush was made for the sea. Bedouin, Theban, Ethiopian, and their paler masters, plunged promiscuously into the deep. A cool- WILDERNESS OF SIN. 109 ing, soothing lave it was. One almost felt as if the thirst were being quenched through the pores. The sunset over the hills of the opposite coast hung the heavens with gorgeous folds. High up the skj was flooded with a rich orange color ; heavy folds of lumi¬ nous clouds hung over the horizon, which reflected their golden drapery athwart the sea, giving it the appearance of a sea of molten gold, in reality a “ Red Sea.” We encamped on the sea-shore at the northern edge of a large promontory, in the wilderness of Sin, which the Bedouins call Murka, about twenty miles from Elim. It is a solitary, level, gravelly neck of land, jutting out from the peaky mountains into the sea, whose transverse diameters measure perhaps from three to five miles. Hither Moses led the children of Israel, when they ‘^removed from Elim, and encamped at the Red Sea.” Num. 33 : 10. Large as it is, this plain must have been densely crowded with the Hebrew encampment, a vast temporary tent-city, containing as many persons as thd city of London. It is perfectly barren ; a few small thorn-trees are all it contains. Here, in the hush of the wilderness, with the sea on one side and frowning granite mountains on the other, our Bedouins entertained us with an Arabic drama in moonlight. It was a love-scene, fitted for the time and place. A little sprightly Bedouin, evidently susceptible of the sweet influence of the tender passion, personated the lady. His blanket around his head and person served as a veil. Half-a-dozen of the others acted suit¬ ors — sang and danced their love-ditties before him, with a variety of genuflexions. Their love-song consisted of detached verses, sung in two parts. The stanzas were arranged in two lines, the first sung by one voice, gene- 10 110 A BEDOUIN DKAMA. rally the lady’s, the second by the chorus of suitors, catching the strain in the middle of the first line. The suitors all stood in a line, accompanying their voices with the swinging of their bodies, now back and forward, then with a long sweep from right to left, clapping their hands in concert at every common bar or measure. If the Bedouin hath any music in his soul,” he has a poor way of letting it out. The variety of keys sung at the same time produced a discord that mocked all harmony, and laboriously straining them through their nasal organs, made it still more unmelodious. They kept pretty good time, the clapping of hands and swinging of their bodies being always simultaneous. As the play proceeded the excitement increased. When they grew weary they would sit down, swinging their love-burdens silently on. Then they would spring to their feet and renew their suit in song. At last their clapping grew quicker and shouts louder ; heated with bodily exertion, their blank¬ ets and turbans were thrown aside. Such unearthly heads on human shoulders ! The religious bump was contracted to a narrow* top, on which a long, glossy braided tuft was left, which seemed to stand on end from w'ild emotion. The rest of the head w^as closely shaven. The wild impassionate style of the performance atoned for the discords of their song, for tuning-forks and music lessons have not yet found their way into the wilderness of Sinai, and it is doubtful whether they ever will. The kneeling camels and snow-white tents, the frowning lofty mountains around us,* and the sea seen in the moonlight, the watchfire flickering its glare on the half-naked Bedouins, just enough to make their hideous heads and faces visible — all this formed a scene not easily forgotten. THE TIMBREL AND THE DANCE 111 Generally the Mohammedans esteem dancing an un¬ dignified amusement, and therefore, according to their notions of the female sex, it is better suited for women. Hence men seldom dance. I one day met a marriage procession near an Egyptian village, preceded by a num¬ ber of dancing females, with timbrels or tamborines. Their dance simply consisted of a swinging walk, and their music was but a clattering noise, and their song a hideous screeching. At a royal feast at Cairo I saw this timbrel dance repeated. The violent inflections and dis¬ tortions of the body were indecorous, and the singing ■was like the filing of a saw. In both these cases they danced to their own music, each playing and dancing at the same time. On Egyptian monuments we find the timbrel, sometimes with the cymbal, used in connection with singing and dancing, showing that the present style was in vogue anciently. But the timbrel was always used by the women, and the flute by the men, as it is to this day. All that the Hebrews knew about dancing they learned from the Egyptians. Thus when they had crossed the Bed Sea, Miriam, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances.” When Jephthah returned to Mizpeh from battle, his daughter came out to meet him, “ with timbrels and with dances.” Judges 11 : 34. So, too, when David returned from the slaughter of the Philistines, women came from all cities, with tabrets, singing and dancing, to celebrate his praise (1 Sam. 18 : 6, 7) ; and at a still later period Herodias danced before Herod. All these cases show how the Hebrew dance continued to be mainly confined to females, with the use of the tabret and timbrel, as among the Egyptians to this day. Mi- f 112 DANCING AS A RELIGIOUS ACT. chal even despised David for doing wliat only was proper for females and ‘‘vain fellows.” 2 Sam. 6 : 20. In nearly all the above cases dancing was an expres¬ sion of religious joy. The raving, frenzied dance of the dervishes among the Mohammedans is a continuation of a pagan rite. The Hebrews danced around the golden calf at Mount Sinai ; and this golden calf was the ox Apis, the most popular object of worship among the Egyptians, with whom dancing around the image formed part of their religious services. God allowed the He¬ brews to continue the dance in their later history, but only as a religious act. In Psalms 149 and 150 God’? praise is spoken of in connection with the timbrel, the harp, and the dance'. Its exercise indicated the opposite from sadness and mourning. In this sense there is “ a time to mourn and a time to dance.” “Our dance is turned into mourning.” Lam. 5 : 15. The Bible argument for modern dancing can, there¬ fore, only apply to this exercise as a religious act. Those Christians whose religious joy and gratitude may seek expression in this form, have a scriptural precedent, if they choose to make merry in this way. I need not remark, however, that pious religious emotions have little to do with fashionable promiscuous dancing. As for the style of the Hebrew dance, it was very different from that of the modern. Doubtless it was such as is still found in the East, a clumsy, half-walking motion, wrig¬ gling the body into various attitudes. I noticed a small procession of Oriental Christians approaching Jerusalem, the foremost of whom danced for joy in this way. The friends of the dance may consider it a good fortune for their favorite amusement, that few attempt to justify it on scriptural grounds. Both the motive for and the “the valley of inscriptions.” 113 manner of dancing were different from those of more modern times ; and while we must admit that the art has gained much in point of gracefulness and ease, it has been shifted on to heathen ground. Who would expect praise and religious joy on a dancing floor ! In most cases the practice bears no slight resemblance to Baccha¬ nalian orgies. If we are to have anything in the Chris¬ tian Church to correspond to the Hebrew dance, it must he Church song, the music of the sanctuary, which far excels in sweetness the timbrel, tabret, and the dance. March 12th. — Early this morning we crossed the plain southward, and entered the mountain defiles again. The first, Wady Shelal, spread into a large basin, with a few trees. Then we wandered through a series of wadys, whose names I will not inflict upon the reader. Towards noon our path was suddenly blocked up. We climbed along a rugged footpath, around deep gorges and among loose rocks, where a single slip would have precipitated one into a fearful abyss. The narrow pass allowed only one camel to pass at a time, while the frowning cliffs hanging above seemed ready every moment to roll over them. Again we lunched in “the shadow of a great rock.” The heat was intense, and our Nile water growing warmer every day ; and many a granite peak rose between us and fresh water. We encamped here, in a little crooked valley, lying deep down between rough red masses of rocks, called by the Bedouins Wady Mokatteb, and by travellers “the Valley of Inscriptions.” It is nowhere more than half a mile wide, and in most places less. On the soft reddish sandstone, and the harder granite which hound both sides of this vale, are numerous inscriptions. They are such as Job speaks of, engraven with a pen of iron, and carved “in the rock.” Job 19 : 24. Some con- 10 * II 114 MONUMENTAL ROCKS. sist of names written in an ancient tongue, which has hitherto baffled the skill of our greatest antiquarians to interpret. Then there are hieroglyphics — camels, horses, asses, and gazelles (the hart of the Bible). At one place is a man, attacked by a tiger and an elephant ; at another are two men engaged in mortal combat with sword and shield. The carving is rude and the figures are poorly drawn, such as almost any one unskilled in the art might draw with the loose stones that are lying about. Cosmas saw these stone inscriptions here 1200 years ago. Some are, no doubt, much older. Among the figures are numerous Greek and Roman crosses. The prettiest symbol I have ever met with anywhere, was a cross with an anchor hung to the cross-beam. Whoever the unknown pilgrim may have been, he knew where hangs our hope, “the anchor of the soul.” The inscrip tions which have been deciphered are simple and short The few that are written in Greek do not even contain the name of the writer. Only the wish : ^‘’Pious pilgrim^ remember meP In many cases they scratched but a simple cross on the rude rock, as a memorial of their faith in their crucified and exalted Redeemer. These inscriptions are found from the ground upward to the height of fifty and a hundred feet. Who put them there ? Most probably pilgrims to Mount Sinai, some before the coming of Christ and some since. Long before the Christian era, “ the Mount of God ” was a shrine frequented by devout pilgrims. Amid the dis¬ heartening vicissitudes of the Hebrew people, with their idolatries and God-deserted altars, pious devotion sought communion with the Divine Being in the still solitude of Sinai, where the Almighty, in a previous age, deigned to speak with Moses. Just as Elijah fled from wickedness ANCIENT WAYMARKS. 115 and persecution to Horeb, so hosts of other Jews, from Egypt and elsewhere, sought comfort here. After the Messiah had come and finished his work, Christian pil¬ grims continued to resort to tho Mount of God. Mo~ katteh must have been a rendezvous for them, where they carved their hopes and yearnings on these undecaying monuments of nature. It was near midnight as my companion and I were seated on one of these monumental rocks in Mokatteb. Our picturesque group of tents, camels, and Arabs, lay there in the soft light of the half-full moon, which clearly disclosed the rough outlines of the valley. Some one has said that he never felt more lonely than in the crowded streets of large cities. And the converse is true, that we often feel least alone in solitude. It was so here. Thousands of a kindred faith had come to and left this bleak vale, without tree or shrub to cheer its solitude. Like epitaphs on grave stones, their names and faith were deeply graven on these large tablets. Save by an occasional traveller, they remain unread and unknown, and their pious v/ish to be remembered is but rarely realized. Their homes and their tombs are un¬ known to mortals, but for thousands of years to come, as in thousands of years past, their marks may be read on the rocks, which they have graven with their own hands. Whatever their occupation or lot in life, they thus “ Departing, left behind them Footprints in the sand of time. Footprints that perhaps another Travelling o'er life's solemn main, Some forlorn or shipwrecked brother, Seeing may take heart again." 116 MIRACLE OF THE QUAILS. There, in the depth and silence of the wilderness, with its dearth of bread and water, we sat on a lofty rock, longing for Canaan, far from the endearments and com¬ forts of home, and sang with hearts almost too full for song : “Guide me, 0 Thou great Jehovah! Pilgrim through this barren land, I am -weak but Thou art mighty, Hold me with Thy powerful hand; Bread of heaven Feed me, till I want no more. “Open now the crystal fountain Whence the healing streams do flow; Let the fiery, cloudy pillar Lead me all my journey through ; Strong Deliverer Be Thou still my strength and shield. “When I tread the verge of Jordan Bid my anxious fears subside. Death of death 1 and helFs Destruction I Land me safe on Canaan's side ; Songs of praises I will ever give to Thee." We have now reached the region where the Manna commenced to fall. Pairs of gray quails, about the size of our partridges, ran over the steep rocks of Mokatteb, as we clambered over them in search of inscriptions. Not a grain of wheat grows in all this region to this day. A few quails remain, monuments of the great quail-miracle, which brought clouds of them hither from other regions. ^‘And it came to pass, that at even the quails came up, and covered the camp ; and in the morn¬ ing, the dew lay round about the host.” Ex. 16 : 13. The following day, we wandered on through these in- BEDOUIN SALUTATIONS. IIT terminable wadys. Hot and sultry, we again sought the shadow of a great rock to rest at noon. A few thorny shrubs and stunted palm trees, proclaimed our approach to Wady Feiran, the oasis of the peninsula of Sinai. Its narrow bed winds up ten or twelve miles from the Red Sea, through which, most probably, the Hebrews came hither from the Wilderness of Sin. For the first time since we had left Cairo, we found full-grown palms, waving their lofty plume-like tops most gracefully. Cross¬ ing a small hill, crowned with the ruins of a convent, we encamped amid a clump of palm trees. Our Bedouins were here welcomed home by a number of friends. Shaking hands, by simply touching the open palm, they embraced and kissed, some of them five times on either cheek, meanwhile muttering their Salaam Aleikum” (peace be with thee). A few saluted by slightly and solemnly bumping foreheads. Some, at first sight, ran to embrace -each other, just like the sons of Isaac. ‘‘ Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him.” Gen. 33 : 4. So too Laban and Jacob met. Gen. 29 ; 13. These salutations of friends who meet on a journey, require considerable time. When our Saviour sent forth his seventy disciples, he wished them to lose no time in their urgent and pressing work, and hence he told them : “ Salute no man by the way.” Luke 10 : 4. Our men had been from home for weeks, and made a long and wearisome journey, yet their faces looked sullen and solemn as the grave. Not a smile could be seen as “they asked each other of their peace.” A few rough, black tents were scattered about ; while some had piled up stones roofed with dry palm branches, for their dwelling. This greeting ceremony came right in place; for, somewhere in this region, Jethro, the father- 118 REPHIDIM. in-law of Moses, came with his sons and his wife unto Moses in the wilderness.” ‘‘And Moses went out to meet him (out of his tent), and did obeisance, and kissed him; and they asked each other of their welfare (or peace), and they came into the tent.” Ex. 18 : 7. In this dreary country, too, Aaron met Moses “ in the mount of God, and hissed Mm.'' Ex. 4 : 27. The Bedouins again scooped wells out of the sand, to water the camels. Both the beast and its driver drank sparingly, but its bitterness was too much for my thirsty palate. This is Bephidim, where the Hebrews murmured the second time for water. Ex. 17. A word about this murmuring just here and now. When a benignant Father gives us running brooks and daily bread in abundance, we are often disposed to judge the famishing host of Moses very harshly for their turbulent complaints. To this day the wanderer travelling through here must bring his food with him. Even the Bedouin must bring his barley and rice from Cairo or Akaba. Our table, here at Bephidim, is almost sumptuously spread, but has nothing on it from the country through which we are travelling, except mutton, and now perhaps a few dates from the palm-trees around our tents. Occasionally we buy a sheep, then Mohammed soon extracts a quarter from the skin, and fits it for the table. Yesterday we had a fine turkey, but it was brought from Egypt. We eat rice from India, oranges and figs from Smyrna, hams and potatoes and pickles from England, macaroni from Naples, dozens of puny oven-hatched chickens brought in a portable coop on a camel’s back from Egypt, and bread which no one can eat, from Cairo. God be thanked, we could bring our manna with us, enough, and to spare. We brought water along too, — two large casks of filtered WANT OF WATER. 119 Nile water, when we started, good and fresh as any thirsty lips could desire. But we have now tried to use it for ten days, carried and shaken it over at least 150 miles, under a sun almost hot enough to boil it. Daily it has grown worse. The mountain-sides everywhere show traces of water-torrents, and our path lies over river-beds. Dry water-courses mock our thirst every¬ where ; water in wells, water oozing through the sand, water in the large sea, “ Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.^^ One is reminded of Tantalus, set up to the chin in water, which fled from his lips whenever he attempted to drink it. I almost envy the camels their palate, which can feast on such stuff*. The crooked wadys shut out the air ; the bold rocks reflect and intensify the hot sun- rays ; the earth teems with heat; still we jog on through this oven-like atmosphere. Again and again I reach for the leathern bottle hung to my saddle, and as often put it back with half-impatient disappointment, for its water is impure. God forgive my ill-suppressed murmuring. Sometimes a faintish, dizzy feeling flits through my brain, the ground and the mountains begin to quiver. The shout of a Bedouin rouses me from a dreamish stupor, to a keener desire for water. 0 for a cup of the cold water at my father’s door ! Barrels daily run through his meadow, with no one to taste or enjoy it. Here one can appreciate David’s description of the good Shepherd. “ He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He lead- eth me beside the still water.'' Ps. 23 : 2. So longed the poor Hebrews for water, shut up among these burning wadys, still more intolerably hot later in the season. Coming out of the Red Sea, they sought 120 SUFFERINGS OF THE HEBREWS. water at the wells of Moses, but it was bitter. They plod on for three long and weary days, and came to Marah, drooping and fainting with thirst. Again it is hitter. When one takes into the account the number of old and infirm persons there must have been among those two millions of Hebrews poorly fitted to endure the want of water ; the large number of children who would give free vent to their sufferings in cries, while their mothers, ready to sink, strove to keep up with the wan¬ dering host, and vainly tried to quiet their pitiful screams for water, is it surprising that among such a tumult of misery, their sorrow should murmur ? How joyful the rumored approach of water at Marah ! They rush for a taste, but ready to die for thirst, they yet cannot drink. Then coming to this place, the disappointment must have been equally painful. Afterwards they murmured again at Zion, which was no place of seed, or of figs, or of vines, or of pomegranates ; ‘'neither is there any water to drink.” Num. 21 : 5. When we think of this vast multi¬ tude, shut up inextricably between mountain-barriers, cut off from all human means of subsistence, in this arid wil¬ derness, the ground radiant with parchmg heat, without water where they most need it, scattered for many miles over narrow, short valleys, some of them far from their leader, we can at least partly account for their murmuring remembrance of the Nile. It was cruel, and yet under the circumstances natural, to cry out to Moses : “ Give us water that we may drink. Wherefore is this that thou hast brought us up out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and our cattle with thirst.” Ex. 17 : 2, 3. Like this fountainless, pathless desert is the world without Christ. In the noon-tide of his glory “ the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.” A PLEASANT VALLEY. 121 “For in the wilderness shall waters break out, And streams in the desert. And the parched ground shall become a pool, And the thirsty land springs of water. And a highway shall be there and a way. And it shall be called the way of holiness.'^ Is. 35 : 6-7. “T will open rivers in high places And fountains in the midst of the valleys: I will make the wilderness a pool of water. And the dry land springs of water.’^ Is. 41 : 18. In all tkis wilderness, wherever the water percolates through the saline sand and gravel, it is hitter, from which you turn away thirsty ; it is only fit to drink where it comes from the solid rock. Just as all virtue, goodness, and truth coming to us from fallible man are flavored with imperfection, but that which we derive from the Rock of Ages ” is sweet and refreshing unto eternal life. “ Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again : Rut whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst” John 4 : 13-14. The grove of palm and tamarisk gives Wady Feiran almost the appearance of a cultivated valley. Our Lon¬ don friends encamped near us. The peaceful, shady val¬ ley soon was all astir with camels, poultry, and Bedouins. The chicken-coop discharged a stream of cackling anima¬ tion, and spread it around the tents, Now and then a new Bedouin came, solemnly embraced his friends, then ** gazed at the white-skinned strangers. Mr. S. brought a donkey from Cairo, which made the mountains ring with his screeching braying. At night the grove was lit up with three difierent watch-fires. Our Bedouins enter- 11 122 ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. tained their friends with coifee. Seated in a circle around the fire, one would make coffee, while the other handed it round in tiny cups. Of course it was innocent of sugar and cream. While they were sipping others came, and muttering a sullen Salaam, took their seats in the circle. Their coffee aone, they smoked their pipes, speaking but little. The luminous smoke curled up among the trees, while their blazing fire revealed their graceful tops, and cast a red glare on the dark frown¬ ing mountaimsides. A gentle wind kept up a rustling among the tree-tops. The night was very dark but clear, giving lustre to the millions of eyes that twinkled down from the star-spangled heavens. Some of the Bedouins disperse, others quietly cover their feet with a coarse blanket, and all that is left at midnight are a few rolled up, fast asleep. Early the first morning after reaching Feiran, we started to ascend Serbdl, the highest mountain in this part of the wilderness (6759 feet). As we rode up a rough valley, full of loose blocks of stone, a solitary bird carolled its early lays, while the first rays of the rising sun gilded the lofty peaks. We rode about half an hour, and then continued our ascent afoot. At the base of a steep, rugged defile, called ‘‘the father of wild figs,” from a wild fig-tree found here, we reached a small spring of water. Wild thyme, with pleasant aroma, grew around the stones; but ere long, all signs of life ceased. We ascended through this rough torrent-bed, gorged with huge granite boulders. I had wandered over the Swiss mountains, not excepting the Bhigi and St. Bernard, and done many other wonderful things in such climbing ad¬ ventures ; but all was mere child’s play, compared with this neck-breaking Serbal : now standing before a large MOUNTAIN BASINS. 123 rock, panting for breath, and wondering how to get on it, then clambering up its sides on all-fours ; over and around rocks, across deep gorges, and lengthwise along their steep sides ; toiling over loose, rolling stones, where one step gained was two lost ; creeping through clefts, up we toiled, as best we could, with short intervals of rest, for five consecutive hours. At one place we found a small quantity of snow beneath a rock, and a small piece of ice, two feet square. At another, toward the summit, was a basin or bowl in a rock, containing rain¬ water, most delicious. We poured away our tepid Nile water, and with devout gratitude refilled our bottles for the first time this side of Egypt. The mountain terminates in five peaks towards the summit. The largest one rose before us, a mountain in itself. Arrived at the top, we reclined on its broad back, which has been fitly likened to the back of a petrified tor¬ toise. Around us rose the peaks of Serbal, like prodigious stalagmites, covered mih a variety of fantastic figures. Immense sphinxes and urichiselled statues of men stand along these fearful heights ; large basins, scooped out of solid masses, and others, perforated with holes by some unknown agency. Large rock-drops linger on the sur¬ face, as if melted lava had been suddenly cooled in the act of trickling down over the hissing masses. I had to think of a huge cauldron of granite, boiling with intense tumult, when the large bubbles are suddenly cooled, forming rounded heads, eyes, and holes of almost every imaginable shape. Eew travellers ascend Serbal. On the top, several stones were laid around a small phial, containing the names of a few persons who have visited the top during late years, to which we added our own. A cool breeze 124 VIEWS FROM MOUNT SERB^L. soon checked the perspiration produced by the ascent, and enabled us to enjoy the marvellous view that em¬ braced nearly the whole peninsula. Far below us the cliffy mountains rose out of their rock and sand beds, cutting and crossing each other at all angles and wind¬ ings. And the vast web of little valleys for once were disentangled, coursing and winding in every direction, presenting a mould like a raised map, revealing all the outlines and rude features of this extraordinary con¬ formation. Some one has called the Sinaitic mountains ‘‘the Alps unclothed and very justly. From the Fhigi, you see a dozen silvery lakes in one direction, sleeping in the lap of a green paradise of villages and fields ; in another, a vast panorama of snow-clad mountains spreads out to view, embracing and sheltering green val¬ leys and smiling villages. But here no tree nor village greets the scene. Bald mountains, white, gray, green, brown, and streaked ; gray wadys, but no life in sight, save a small part of the one solitary palm-grove, down in Feiran ; the most perfect famine-inspiring scene of sterility that the mind of man can conceive. We saw the Bed Sea, with the Egyptian hills beyond, and Mount Tor, on this side ; the wilderness of Sin, Mount Sinai, and the wilderness of Tih (Zin). Our eyes rested on the whole scope of country in which the Hebrews wan¬ dered, murmured, and fell. We found Zeddan, the Sheikh of Serbal, a reliable and pleasant guide, ready to impart what little information he possessed. Here, as elsewhere, were rock inscriptions again. Our descent required three hours, and was likewise very fatiguing. There was scarcely a rod of clear path to the base ; now sliding down over blocks, then walking over loose stones, rolling from beneath our feet, we REPHIDIM AXD MERIBAH. 125 wished for our camels long before we reached them. With sore feet, sore limbs, but cheerful hearts, we mounted where we had left them in the morning, and reached Feiran ready for a sound dinner. A month later, we met a lady on the steamer Samois, bound for Europe, whose husband, an English clergyman, ascended Serbal two weeks after we did. He took a blanket with him, and in spite of the remonstrances of 'Others, remained all night on the summit, to get a sun¬ rise \dew. The physical exertion and night air brought on the Eastern fever. Their efforts to brino; him to Jeru- O Salem, in the absence of medical attendance, only a2:2:ra- J 7 OO vated his disease. Away down in Beersheba, nine hours’ journey from Hebron, he died ; leaying his sorrowing widow alone with her caravan in the wilderness. With difficulty she had him brousht to Jerusalem, and buried in the Protestant burial-ground. Sunday, March \bth. — A Sabbath-day at Rephidiin and Meribah ! Near where it was first said, Remem¬ ber the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy”! Quietly and peacefully our snow-white tents reposed in the shady palra- srove, with the cra^^y mountains towerincr hiorh above us in awful majesty. Near us is Convent Hill, on which Moses sat, and where xkaron and Hur held up his hands while Joshua slew Amalek. No matter : any other of the many mountains around will answer, if this will not. Door-holes in the mountain-side lead to hermit-cells, whither, in past ages, many fled from the world, to live alone in penance and self-mortification. It was a day and place to enjoy the ITth chapter of Exodus. In this unique enclosure, deep between towering mountains, wo worshipped and meditated, with Amalekites for our pro¬ tectors, where the Lord said he “ will have war with 11* 126 MOSES AND THE AMALEKITE3. Amalek, from generation to generation.” I could scarcely look at the mountains without thinking of the three per¬ sons who decided the fate of the battle. The story is so childlike and simple : — ‘^And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed ; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses’ hands were heavy ; and they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat thereon. And Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side ; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword.” Ex. 17 : 11-16. Some would have Serbal be Mount Sinai. We asked Sheikh Zeddan, who says the Bedouins know nothing about Moses having been here. Several years before, Stanley asked him whether the Arabs worshipped on Serbal. He said : “Arabs never pray nor kill sheep on the top of SerbM ; sometimes, however, travellers eat chickens there ;” which he perhaps regarded as a kind of sacrificial ofiering. The rock formations in this region are various. Their colors readily reveal their quality — chalk, limestone, sandstone, and granite. Sometimes the transition from one to the other is very sudden — naught but a streak between two perfect formations. Within two days from Serbal, we passed hills like vast heaps of black cinders, and ruins of mountains calcined to ashes, not unlike the refuse of a foundry. Around SerbM the rocks are full of red and gray streaks, as if the igneous fluid had squirted upwards as they were heaved from the ground. The next day we struck our tents, and emerged from the palm-grove of Feiran. I will not take the reader THE MOUNT OF THE LAW. 127 over the whole list of unpronounceable wadys through which we had to wander. We took the nearest but most difficult road. In the middle of the afternoon, we dis¬ mounted at the foot of a dark mountain-pass, fearfully rugged. The tortuous, narrow footpath, at some places crept along between rocks where there was barely room for the camels to pull their burdens through. Large, blackish granite blocks hung frowningly over us, and beneath was a deep gorge, through which a wild moun¬ tain stream tumbled foamingly down its obstructed course. We threaded our way up this stone stairway, over a dis¬ tance of about three miles ; the poor camels literally climbing up the high steps, pressing their spongy feet on the rough surface, and straining under their loads, until their joints creaked and cracked. To make it still more dreary, a storm of rain and sleet overtook us just as we approached the end of the pass. The air had become keen and chilly. I shivered, rolled up in two coats, a cloak, and a burnouse. Over such a rugged, cold, as¬ cending path, the spirit reaches the Mount of the Law, without a ray of cheering warmth and sunlight. Out of the pass we entered Wady Er-Rahah, where a number of black goat-hair, tents were scattered along a hill-side. A few of their tenants ran out and hallooed after us, mingling their Salaam Aleikum ” with a re¬ quest to buy their mutton or give a bucksheesh. From the time we had reached the top of the pass, the cliffy, awful features of Sinai commenced to unfold to view. Without knowing what it was, both of us in¬ voluntarily exclaimed, ‘‘What an awful mountain that is !” We approached its bold breast through the broad valley, Er-Kahah, facing it ; its front but half visible at first, but unfolding out of the mountain as we neared. A 128 CONVENT OF MCUNT SINAI. dense black cloud hung around tlie top, TTbile the rugged, deeply-shaded base, with its furrows and fissures, stood out to view in all its rough - featured outlines, at once calling to mind the thunders and lightnings, the black cloud and the voice of a trumpet, and the smoke ascend¬ ing from the top, at the giving of the law. Ex. 19 : 16. With Stanley, I cannot imagine that any human being could pass up that plain, and not feel that he was enter¬ ing a place, above all others, suited for the most august of earthly spectacles. We had a very long and tiresome day. i^ight was coming on. Cold, tired, and gloomy, we alighted below the convent. Our caravan had fallen behind on account of rough roads ; so that the tents were not raised till an hour after night. We vainly labored for comfort by running about. When the bedding ar¬ rived, I soon found relief in a bale of blankets and com¬ forts. The monks of the convent urged us to lodge with them ; but love for tent-life led us to decline their prof¬ fered hospitality. The night continued cold, against which the frail walls of our curtain-house were a poor shelter. The next morning we repaired to the convent to pay our respects to the superior. After much impatient and Irreverent shouting beneath a door in the wall, thirty feet above ground, a long-bearded monk suddenly thrust out his head, demanding the cause of our unsaintly noise. After telling him our errand, he let down a large heavy rope with a hook to it, to receive the letter we had brought from the Greek patriarch at Cairo. When I saw this at-a-holy-distance formality, I expected in a few moments to be dangling in mid-air, and submit to the process of being wound to the top with rope and windlass. But after it was read, a little old man with a flowing white A VENERABLE MONK. 129 beard, bade us welcome from the door above, telling us that, as a special favor, we might enter through a small opening in the rear of the wall. Formerly, all had to enter through the upper door ; the rest were closed from fear of the Bedouins. The convent has the appearance of a fortress. A high strong wall encloses it, with tur¬ rets at the corners, affording a shelter against the rapa¬ city and plunder of their neighbors. We stooped through a low door, into damp basement chambers ; thence into the central court, up several stairways, along a winding latticed corridor, into a plain room containing a divan and a table, spread with a white cloth. After Ahmed had told the venerable superior what country we hailed from, he came limping into the room to receive us. The customary salutation having been performed, he told us bow delighted he was to see us there. His long white beard and austere ascetic features gave him a venerable appearance. I own to a strong feeling of reverence in the presence of a prior of such patriarchal mien. I told him he enjoyed a rare privilege to live so near the Holy Mount. “ Yes,” he replied, with a shrug of the shoulder, I should not like to live anywhere else. I am now an old man, seventy-eight years old. Six years ago I had my leg broken, and am still lame. It is best for me here, where I have now lived seventeen years.” I felt sorry that his reply should diminish my respect for his saintly motives. Seated on the floor, or rather on the divan, which is but a few inches above it, he entertained us with dates, cofiee, and arrak, (date-brandy), a mischiev¬ ous drug which even the abstemious monks allow them¬ selves to indulge in. I was sorry to hear that it even sometimes gets the better of our old friend, the superior. After this short interview, Ahmed employed a monk I 130 LEGEND or THE VIRGIN MARY. and one of the Bedouins, who loiter around the convent, as guides, and we started for the top of Mount Sinai. We had not gone far when the path led over steps cut out of the rocks, winding upward through crags of granite. In half an hour we met with sprinklings of snow in the shade, and a small quantity of ice. While resting at a small rudely-constructed stone chapel, erected to / the Virgin Mary, the monk told us its legend. ‘‘ There was a time when the monks of the convent ran short of bread. The Arabs cut them off from Cairo, where they still have it brought from. Then they daily went on the Mount of God to pray for bread. Going up one day they met the Virgin with the child, where the chapel now stands. She asked them where they were going. ‘ On the mountain to pray for bread,’ they re¬ plied. When they returned to the convent they_found a thousand camel-loads of provision. In commemoration of this event they built her this chapel.” The figures of these legends are not always reliable^ for some travellers have forty camel-loads instead of a thousand. And, ac¬ cording to Bobinson’s version, it would appear even that fleas, and not famine, were. the cause of distress. Higher up the path led through an arched doorway. Near this we had to pause for another little story. The monk pointed to a spot, and said that one of his order^ on his way to the top, stopped there and said: “ If I am a good man, God will permit me to reach the sacred place; if not, may I die here.” And immediately he expired. Near the top, in a small plain, we came to another chapel over Elijah’s cave. He came thither unto a cave and lodged there.” 1 Kings 19:9. I passed through two small apartments into a third. Near an altar was ELIJAH’S CAVE. 131 a small hole in a rock, barely large enough for me to creep into, and this is to be Elijah’s cave. Before the chapel is a tall cypress tree, which the monk said ^his order had planted more than a hundred years. Near it is a well and tank ascribed to the prophet. And not far from here, the monk showed us a dinge in a rock, which he said was the impress of the camel’s foot that carried Mohammed up on the Mount of God. Ahmed replied, with orthodox fervor: ‘‘That must have been a holy camel.” We reached the summit just in two hours from the time we started, including the legends and delays at the chapels. The area on the top may he fifty or sixty feet square. A small chapel or church, half in ruins, and a small mosque, crown its summit, representing the two religions of the East on a spot which, in common, they hold sacred. The Moslem believes in most of the Old Testa¬ ment saints, especially the patriarchs and prophets, and the leaders of Israel. Mount Sinai and Mount Moriah he approaches with the profoundest awe, but shows little reverence for Calvary. Both temples on Sinai v/ere dis¬ figured by time, and their walls by the daubing inscrip¬ tions of ambitious travellers. Though the view is not so grand and extensive as that from Mt. Serbal, it af¬ forded a new standpoint, and therefore a new aspect. Few wadys could be seen. The endless complication of twisted and tortuous mountains and peaks hid them. To what shall I liken this singular scene ? It is as if the sea were suddenly petrified during a storm, when all the waves are boiling and tumbling mountain high. It looks as if the mighty globe had been boiling over, jetting liquid rocks through winding fissures, rolling and cool¬ ing into all forms and colors, in some places running 132 THE HEBREW ENCAMPMENT. their bases together. If there is a place on our planet calculated to give one an idea of the awful results of Almighty power in full blast, this ought to be it. There is no life nor verdure in the whole picture, yet its novelty never tires. These towering piles of Creation’s earliest convulsions, gigantic, undeciphered hieroglyphics of the Creator’s pen, stand alone in the family of mountains. Their furrowed features point to forces of which the human mind, as yet, can form no adequate conception. Whether you wearily thread your way through laby¬ rinthine wadys, and amid huge cones of granite and plu- tonic cinders, or look at them from Serb^l or Sinai, you can hardly resist the impression that you are in the very focus of creative power. Are we on the spot where the Law was given ? In vain we looked around for a plain or valley below, where “ Israel camped before the mount.” Subsequently, Rev. W. Arthur, from London, explored the wadys in the rear of the mountain. He told us at Beirout, that he found a valley well suited to this part of the mountain, about three miles long, and from three quarters to a mile and a half wide; and, as he thought,^ amply sufficient for the Hebrew encampment. Though little of this valley can be seen from the top, strange to say, the mountain is seen from it, far more grand and imposing than from Wady Er-Rdhah. — ^ Whether this be the identical spot or not, the^ure air and toil of climbing mountains, however sacred, OTeates a desire for food ; and here, at a place toward which I had been accustomed to look from my distant home with almost adoring reverence, we soon were seated on the bare rock, each with fowl in hand, stripping off substan¬ tial food as best he could, d la Bedouin. The Arab had / GIVING THE COMMANDMENTS. 133 brought a few pieces of charcoal along, which he kindled to make an extra cup of coffee — a beverage we had never before indulged in at lunch. Just there and then, a less sumptuous meal might have been more in place. The poor Bedouin’s kind intentions excelled his knowledge of making coffee, a muddy juice, unsettled, unsugared, and uncreamed. To preserve the aroma, the Bedouins drink their coffee unclarified; its chief excellence consisting in drinking the grounds. Descending to Elijah’s cave, we crossed the basin, and ascended Sefsaf, one of the peaks fronting the plain through w\iich we had approached the mountain the day before. Beaching a bluff, about half way up, which overlooked the plain, both the guides refused to go any further. We continued a short distance further up the steep rock-strewn side, when they begged us to stop, as a higher ascent could only be made at the greatest peril. But taking this as a Bedouin exaggeration, we pushed upward ; the guides followed ; but Ahmed’s courage or legs failed him. We rested on a rock-platform a few hundred feet from the summit. The monk and Arab declared that no mortal had ever been on the top, that we could not go up there and live. Methought most likely that the plain facing this side of the mountain, was the only one in which Israel could have encamped. If so, the awful ceremony of giving the ten command¬ ments, between the Almighty and Moses, may have taken place on this rock. I shall never visit the moun¬ tain again. One more effort and we are on the top. Now or never, so far as standing on the Holy Mount is concerned. It seemed safe at least to attempt it. The rest refusing to go any further, I told them to wait for me till I should make the attempt. Crossing a cut in 12 1 134 A PERILOUS SITUATION. the rock, I approached a large granite mass, round and sloping, without any hold for climbing. My torn shoes would not he likely to slip on such a surface. Soon the rock became steep like the sides of a large hakeoven. I used all fours, but had nothing for the hands to hold on to. My feet commenced slipping, and I tried to turn around to descend, but found that I could not turn with¬ out the risk of falling over a precipice, hundreds of feet deep. I felt myself gradually sliding downward. Provi¬ dentially, I discovered a small fissure in the round rock into which I clinched the end of my fingers ; there, on those awful heights I hung, trembling in a balance be¬ tween life and death, while every nerve seemed to quiver with exertion. For a moment, 1 knew not which way I was going. A sudden jerk of the arms regained my equilibrium, and I clambered hastily to the top. Mr. M - , seeing my success, but not its peril, fol¬ lowed. Midway up, he suddenly got the cramp and cried for help. The frightened Arab ran to his relief, and I, perhaps no less frightened, came from the top, and thus we pulled and pushed him up as best we could. This threw us into a tremor, ill-fitted to^enjoy the pros¬ pect. My first great concern was how to get my help¬ less friend down the mountain. The whole plain of Er- Kahah spread out below us, thp only considerable valley near the mountain which would '^uit for the Hebrew en¬ campment. From here, Moses (Jould see over the whole camp, except that part immediately at the base, where Aaron put up the golden calf. And the Hebrews could see the grand, terrific ceremony on the top, “ thunders and lightnings, and a thick cloud upon the mount, and the voice of a trumpet exceeding loud;” ‘‘and mount Sinai altogether in a smoke.” Ex. 19. Out of this, THE SMITTEN ROCK. 135 the rock-stool on whicli we stood, rose up abruptly from five hundred to a thousand feet. One single step seemed sufficient to carry us to the base. I could not look down without a shudder, and a strange, awful feeling of un¬ easiness led us soon to descend. The Arab and myself held on to my friend’s extremities, and so helped him safely down. The monk met us at the foot of the round top, and, crossing his breast, grasped our hands and mut¬ tered a prayer of thanks for our deliverance. Then only I saw the awful precipice over which I had been suspended at fingers’ end. How we thanked our Father that day for this merciful deliverance from danger ! I know not whether Moses or anybody else has ever been on the same peak ; but we solemnly concluded, there and then, never to venture rashly upon such untried and fin- known heights again. To save time, we descended over a more direct course, down a steep, rugged ravine, opposite our tents. But what we saved in time we had to make up in labor ; climbing and sliding down through gorges and over high rocks, not unlike our Serbal tribu¬ lations. The following morning we made an excursion to the valley of Leja,, immediately south of Mount Sinai. A running brook of sweet water gives a pleasant contrast to its otherwise wild and rugged aspect. A large de¬ tached mass, from ten to fifteen feet high, has for manj centuries been regarded as the ‘‘rock” which Moses smote for water, and this brook has been running ever since. It is the only stream in all this region, where pro¬ bably the people got water to “wash their clothes,” in preparation for the holy interview between God and Moses on the mount. Ex. 19 : 10, 14. It being so near the mountain, I could easily believe that after Aaron had 136 BURNING OF THE GOLDEN CALF. ground the golden calf to powder, he here ‘‘ strewed it upon the water, and made the children of Israel drink of it.” It would puzzle some of our modern chemists to burn up gold in fire, and grind it to powder. That Moses did it, only furnishes another proof of the extent of his learning ‘‘ in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.” Acts 7 : 22. We are told that “ Moses took the calf which they had made, and burnt it in the fire, and ground it to powder, and strewed it upon the water, and made the children of Israel drink of it.” Ex. 82 : 20. It is well known that to burn gold and reduce it to powder is not an easy matter. An eminent French chemist explains it thus : ‘‘ In the place of tartaric acid, which we employ, Moses used natron, which is Common in the East. What follows, respecting his making the Israelites drink this powder, proves that he was perfectly acquainted with the whole effect of the operation. He wished to increase the punishment of their disobedience, and nothing could have been more suitable ; for, gold reduced and made into a draught, in the manner I have mentioned, has a most nauseous taste.” In front of the mountain-peaks facing the broad plain, is a small hill, looking almost as if the hand of man had made it. “The Hill of Aaron” it has been called for ages, on whose summit the golden calf was worshipped. It cannot be seen from the dK)p, nor from any of the tor¬ rent-beds through which we^ ascended and descended. In this respect it answers well to the narrative. Moses and Joshua heard “the noise,” but saw not the cause of the tumult until they “ came nigh unto the camp.” Viewed from a Christian stand-point,' the obstinate, fool-hardy idolatry of the Hebrews, in the face of the awful wonders wrought in their behalf, is almost incre- IDOLATRY OF THE HEBREWS. 13T dible. But four centuries of servitude had made them a nation of slaves. Doubtless few of those idolaters at Sinai had ever seen a Hebrew service before the Exodus. The principal god of the Egyptians was the bull Apis, especially worshipped at Memphis. In the absence of priests, altars, and scriptures of their own religion, can we wonder much that they were partly heathenized in Egypt ? This accounts for their tumults, mutinies, and murmurings on the way. It is not a very easy or com¬ mon thing that “a nation is born at once,” nor in a year either ; born from lawdess, unconfiding, abject slaves to obedient, peaceful followers of Moses. Every trial excites a tumult, and when their leader is out of sight they must have the Egyptian god. ‘‘ Up, make us gods which shall go before us : for, as for this Moses, the man that brought us up out of Egypt, we wot not what is become of him.” So deeply had they imbibed this love for the religion of their oppressors, that it fol¬ lowed the nation for centuries. Even Jeroboam sought refuge in it when he had separated from Judah. 1 Kings 12 : 28. In the afternoon we again visited the convent. The superior received us pleasantly, and was even more com¬ municative than on the preceding day. Seated Turkish, or tailor-fashion, in the plain reception-room, he entertained us with coffee. The monks led us to the several apart¬ ments of the convent. The church is ornamented with ancient fresco, some richly gilded. Gold stars are wrought into the blue sky-like basis in the ceiling. Silver lamps hang over the altar. The floor is paved with marble of different colors. It dates from the time of Justinian, at least 1200 years back. At the door of a small chapel back of the altar, our guide told us, in the 12* 138 CONVENT LIFE AT SINAI. words whicli God used to Moses here : ‘‘ Put off thy shoes from off thy feet ; for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.” Ex. 3:5. In a recess of the wall is a silver slab, and over it a small altar, covering the spot where stood the burning hush of Moses, now looked upon as the most holy place in the whole peninsula. Besides these there are some twenty other chapels in the convent, and also a small Mohammedan mosque, able to contain about 200 worshippers. The last is no longer used. It only remains as a monument of the trials and policy of former tenants of the convent, who submitted to its erection to conciliate their Moslem foes. The library is in a small room. The monks say it contains 6000 or 7000 volumes. I 'think Robinson’s estimate of 1500 volumes is nearer the truth. They also said they had a Bible which Theodosius transcribed. The books are mostly in Greek, and are evidently very little used. We were led along winding corridors or balconies, across small courts, through dark passages, up and down stairways ; along some of these the monks lived. Their little gloomy cells opened on the corridors. A mat and rug, spread upon a raised part of the floor for a bed, compose all their furniture. The frowning Sinai above them, with its holy awful memories ; a little green spot in the garden, consisting of a few trees and plants ; close by pile^of their dead brethren unburied, heaps of human bones^ — a grim and ghastly charnel-house, — these are the /objects on which their eyes* rest evermore, stirring up ^ern and sober reflections. We did not visit the ehamber of Death. “ It is situated near the middle of the garden. The building is half subterranean, con¬ sisting of two rooms or vaults, one containing the bones of priests and the other those of lay-monks. The dead A CHAxMBER of death. 139 bodies are first laid for two or three years on iron grates in another vault ; and then the skeletons are broken up, and removed to these chambers. Here the bones are laid together in regular piles, the arms in one, the legs in another, the ribs in a third, etc. The bones of priests and laymen are piled separately in the different vaults ; except the skulls, which are thrown promiscuously to¬ gether. The bones of archbishops, whose bodies are always brought hither with their clothing and property after death, are kept separately in small wooden boxes. The skeleton of one saint was pointed out to us ; and also those of two ascetics, who are said to have lived as her¬ mits in the adjacent mountain, wearing shirts of mail next the body, and binding themselves together by the leg with an iron chain, parts of which are here preserved. This is emphatically the house of Death, where he has now sat enthroned for centuries, receiving every year new victims, until the chambers are nearly filled up with this assembly of the dead. It must be a solemn feeling, one would think, with which the monks repair to this spot, and look upon these relics of mortality, — their pre¬ decessors, their brethren, their daily companions, all present here before them in their last earthly shape of ghastliness ; with whom, too, their own bone§ must so soon in like manner be mingled piecemeal, and be gazed upon perhaps like them by strangers from a distant world. I know of no place where the living and the dead come in closer contact with each other; or where the dread summons to prepare for death rises with a stronger power before the mind.” The convent belongs to the Greek Church. It has had to pass through many vicissitudes since its origin. These children of Amalek have often assailed the monks 140 MONKS OF SINAI. with brutal cruelty. Their strongly fortified walls shield them in part ; then they have clans of Arabs to protect them, and in return they supply them with bread. Some of these were loitering about the convent at the time, receiving daily two loaves apiece. The monks said that about 1000 of these were at present kept in bread by them. The convent has- a large gate, which has been walled up a hundred years. Since that time no Archbishop has resided here. It is said, that on his accession this gate must he thrown open for six months ; during which the Arabs are at liberty to eat and drink as much as they please. To avoid the expense of such greedy tribes of hoarders, the Archbishop lives elsewhere, and the gate is kept closed. Five hundred years ago there were 400 monks in the convent ; we found but twenty. Excepting the superior, they are as plump and well-to-do looking set of monks as I have seen anywhere. Their sluggish indolent habits show little of that abstemious austerity of life found in many other convents. They seem healthy and strong, and certainly look none the worse for their fasting. Their physiognomies indicate a negative harmless character, with little of earnest posi¬ tive grace and grit. They eat no flesh, and drink no wine, but^drink date-brandy, which is worse. Some of them live to a very great age. Every morning at seven they have mass ; on Saturday they have it twice ; and during fasting seasons still oftener. How they put in the rest of their time, without reading and manual labor, I cannot tell. Some must cook and bake, but they have a short and easy method of doing this. A few mechani¬ cal implements were lying about the premises, hut evi¬ dently little used. The severest part of their secluded ARAB CIVILIZATION. 141 life must be the slow dull drag of vacant hours and days — an ever-recurring insipid monotony ; in their case, I fear, not even much relieved by those acts of penance, compunction, and prayer, usual with recluses. It is remarkable how impervious these Sinaitic Bedouins have hitherto been to civilization and Christianity. In their domestic and social habits they are as perfectly patriarchal as the age of Abraham ; in fact they are a specimen of that period transferred to the nineteenth century. But a few hundred miles from Egypt and the Mediterranean, and with the great Anglo-Indian tho¬ roughfare along their border and in sight of some of their encampments, they are as free from modern cus¬ toms as if they were inhabitants of another planet. They can never conceal their astonishment at seeing persons sitting on chairs instead of the bare earth, and eating at tables by means of knives and forks instead of having all they eat in one large bowl on the table which nature has made, and extricating their several portions with their own hands as best they can. Ineffectual efforts have been made to Christianize them. The convent at Mount Sinai has been amongst them for over a thousand years, and they are as hopelessly sunken in heathenism as when it was first built by Justinian. Professing the Mohammedan faith, they are without mosques and priests, are rarely seen to pray but at the tombs of their so- called saints, though they irreverently and often pro¬ fanely appeal to Allah (God) in conversation. A certain business shrewdness they possess, though most of them are as innocent of mathematics as a parrot. Some have no idea at all of figures. They will tell you it is five miles, and twenty miles, to a certain place, 142 MONEY OF THE BEDOUINS. almost in the same breath. They are passionately fond of money, and hoard it up no one knows where. They can hardly look at a traveller without crying buck- sheesh.” Turkish and French money is mostly used among them. Without banks or stores, or any chances to invest money but in a few camels and goats, they must either bury or hide it. Their expenses are very trifling. The nearest possible approach to primitive nature is the cheapest mode of life. All the garments of a Bedouin, including his girdle and turban, cannot cost more than fifty cents or a dollar. And as they are not worn much by washing, they can use them for a long time. Their principal coat, toga, shirt, or whatever it may be called, is made of coarse unbleached muslin. Invariably this has an inside breast-pocket, in which they carry theij* money and presents. To this custom the Bible alludes in Isaiah 65 : 6, and especially our Saviour in Luke 6 : 38. To avoid sun-strokes the Bedouins, like most persons in the East, wear a turban — a thick twisted cloth coiled around the head ; and I noticed that they never slept in moonlight without pulling their coarse blankets over the head, to shelter them against the equally dangerous efiects of the moon. The same sun and moon shone here when the Psalmist wrote : ‘‘ The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.” Psalm 121 : 6. The Bedohj^ins have a coarse outer garment, which they usually take yith them on their journeys, for a covering by night, and/ a protection during cold and storm. Most of these Sire/nW in one piece, without a seam or stitch, only two holes through which they thrust the arms. Such a one Christ wore, “ a coat without seam, woven from the top to the bottom.” John 19 : 23. When he wanted to chkist’s coat. 143 wash his disciples’ feet he ‘‘laid aside his garments;” doubtless his blanket-cloak. At his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, “the multitude spread their garments in the way “ Bartimeus cast away his garment and the dis¬ ciples “ cast their garments on the colt” which they brought to Christ. These, and many other kindred allusions, find illustrations in the unsewn blanket of the modern Bedouin. 1 144 PLAIN OF ER-RAHAH CHAPTER VII. /rnni Binnnt linoi tn (0jinir-itlifr. As our further journey took us beyond the limits of the Sinai tribe, we were here obliged to hire a new set of men and camels from the tribe through whose terri¬ tory we intended to travel. Their tardy arrival gave us an additional day. We strolled around the foot of the mountain, and over the plain of Er-Rahah, on which, it is supposed, the Hebrews were encamped during the giving of the Law. It is about half a mile wi(m, and two miles long. But even this, large as it is for this region, would not furnish room for the whole Ihultitude. Besides this, however, there are smaller valleys around the mountain, in which many may have encamped. Most probably Mount Sinai means this group of moun¬ tain-peaks resting on a common base. Possibly one of the two peaks on which I had stood was the stage of that awful transaction between God and Moses. But seeing half a dozen others grouped around them, whose claims might be urged with equal plausibility, I could not feel absolutely certain with respect to any one of them. Robinson’s Sinai is only one of a number of peaks ; and so is the traditional one. It would have afforded a plea¬ sant reverie to sit down on one of these, fully convinced of their identity, as many had done before us, and give oneself up to the impressions of the awful scene. But r MEMORIES OF SINAI. 145 after very long and balancing arguments on the spot, I felt that nothing short of inspired certitude could fix on the identical top. There can be little doubt to an im¬ partial mind, however, that this group of mountains, cir¬ cling around Horeb, with this remarkable plain before them, unlike any other that we saw in the peninsula, answers most completely to the narrative. The full grand view we had from the plain, on the last day, with our Bibles in hand, only confirm, d this conviction. Its base clearly shows that it is a “ mount that might be touched;” and therefore Moses had to “set bounds about it” to prevent the people from breaking through into the holy scene. I could believe with the credulity of a child, and the whole ceremony was before my vision like a vivid reality. “ There were thunders and light¬ nings, and a thick cloud upon the mount, and the voice of the trumpet exceeding loud ; so that all the people that was in the camp trembled. And Moses brought forth the people out of the camp to meet with God ; and they stood at the nether part of the mount. And Mount Sinai was altogether on a smoke, because the Lord descended upon it in fire : and the smoke thereof ascended as the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mount quaked greatly. And when the voice of the trumpet sounded long, and waxed louder and louder, Moses spake, and God answered him by a voice. And the Lord came down upon Mount Sinai, on the top of the mount: and the Lord called Moses up to the top of the mount; and Moses went up.” Ex. 19. All this I" could locate and picture to myself with almost the vivid¬ ness of the actual scene. Nowhere can there be found a more appropriate “ footstool ” for the Lawgiver. Every line and feature 13 K 146 THE STATUE OF MOSES. of the picture reminds one of stern, resistless laws. Steep, rough crags, frowning clilFs, granite boulders, and mountain base, have here stood and defied the elements since the infancy of Time, and still defy. While at Rome I often gazed with mute wonder at Angelo’s fa¬ mous statue of Moses, and vainly strove to learn why he should represent the meekest of men with such a stern frown and defying features. Sitting before Mount Sinai, I had a glimpse of the artist’s vision, and an elo¬ quent eulogy on his genius. Esmrywhere you encounter the symbols of inflexible Law, which say: Obey, or die.” The naked, life- deserted majesty which awes one at every step, confused bluffs and bold rock-billows, tang¬ ling and rolling into each other, as if the Almighty had held his arm over the sea, when in the full dash and turmoil of a storm, and bade the waves stand suddenly still in huge rock and granite forms ; all these stamp the mind with the image of a terrific Law. After wander¬ ing through the wilderness of Sin, and looking down from Serbal into the labyrinths of ridges and ravines, and then quietly strolling around Sinai, one is in a fit mood to read and feel the force of the Commandments, and can hear Moses speak, and God^answer him with a voice,” more impressively than anywhere else. The hush of the grave reigns here. Two or three millions of human beings, young and old, great and small, must have filled the valleys with the hum and roll¬ ing reverberations of strange sounds. The sepulchral silence, and a singular peculiarity of the atmosphere, enable one to hear sounds at a great distance. Tho Bedouins say a strange noise is sometimes heard, whicii they think proceeds from the bells of a convent in the interior of the mountain. It is said, originally the THE SILENCE OF SINAI. 147 monks lived on tke top of the mount, but were driven down by these strange sounds. The falling of rocks, or the rolling of sand down the mountain side, and even the sound of human voices, may partly account for these strange stories. But what a fearful shower of claps that “thunder^’ must have produced in a region where every report multiplies and creates many others as it rolls around bluffs and through rugged gorges ! And while this cracks away into the distance, not half expended, another and another drops in fresh explosion, and rolls its progeny around the mountain. Then, too, how these and other mountains of the wilderness must have rung as the vast encampment broke up at every station, with the shout : “ Rise up. Lord, and let Thine enemies be scattered ; and let them that hate Thee flee before Thee.” And in the evening, when the high rocks cast their shadows athwart the valleys, they encamped with the shout : “ Return, 0 Lord, unto the many thousands of Israel.” Num. 10 ; 35-36. No sound of bug or singing bird is heard. Not one did I hear during our three days at the mount. Mute hugs and birds of prey are here. Vultures and eagles are occasionally seen perched on rocky heights, or soar¬ ing over them. But no lowing of herds nor bleating of sheep is heard. The goats of the Bedouins are a quiet animal. No rustling leaves, nor the shouting play and prattle of childhood. The region is deserted by every note in Life’s melody. The only cheerful sound is the faint murmuring of the brook Moses brought from the Rock. It is like the desolation and silence of a ruined cathedral, whose porches, columns, aisles, and altars still remain ; but the tuneless pipes of the organ have been hushed, without a living hand even to evoke jarring dis- II 148 ‘‘shittim” wood. cord. The living, praising hearts and voices have been hushed in death, and the tall arches ring with the spec¬ tral sounds of strange echoes. What few trees are found here are mostly acacia, which the Arabs call sont,’’ the same as the Burning Bush. Very little different from this is the ‘‘sayal,” or ancient “shittah,” of which the ark and altar were built. It is a species of thorn, the size of a large peach tree, and sometimes even larger. They have few leaves, and have almost the appearance of dead trees. How remarkable that the very trees from which God com¬ manded them to get ‘‘shittim wood” for the sacred structures, should have perpetuated themselves for more than 3000 years in this sterile region — the living monu¬ ments of the only historic drama that was ever acted in this marvellous region ! This, moreover, is the only solid strong wood found here. The small ‘^juniper” of Elijah, is more like our willow, too soft and pulpy for building purposes. Hence they only could use ‘^shittim wood.” The black, goatskin tents of the Bedouins around here are like ‘‘the tents of Kedar,” of which Solomon sings. They live chiefly from their goats and ' camels. Their cares and wants are few. Two black-veiled Arab girls led a few goats along the high slope of the moun¬ tain, in quest of straggling, aromatic shrubs and grass, like the daughters of Jethro, whom Moses met here. Ex. 2 : 16. We need not wonder that the wilderness of Sinai should have been peopled by persons who fled the haunts of men. While Egypt was the parent of monasticism, and its burning deserts suitable fields for its self-deny¬ ing practice, the rock-fields of Sinai offered shelter and seclusion equally adapted for such objects. According THE EEEUGE OF HOREB. 149 to Burckhardtj there was a time when six thousand monks abode around Mount Sinai. The cells of Feiran, and the numerous inscriptions of Mokatteh, point to a period when there must have been quite a settlement of hermits at Rephidim. The Bible tells us of two pilgrims who sought peace and retirement at Iloreh or Sinai, both fugitives from wicked rulers, earnest mighty souls. Moses slew an Egyptian tyrant, then sought refuge from the avenging cruelty of Pharaoh in the Wilderness of Sinai. While lingering in this solitude, God appeared to him in Horeb, and sent him back to deliver his brethren. Ex. 3 : 1. Jezebel threatened to kill Elijah. Then “he arose and went for his life” through “ Beer-sheba” “into the wilderness,” and came to “ Horeb the mount of God.” Then, as now, the shade was scarce here ; “he sat down under a juniper tree,” a small bush, not unlike our elder, whose grateful, though scanty shade we often courted here. He too received a divine message to return on a fresh errand for the Almighty : by the way, a very strong argument that God does not wish us to flee dan¬ ger, but to conquer it. Both had to return from their solitude to their work in the bad and busy world. 1 Kings 19. Paul, in describing his conversion to the Galatians, says : “ I went into Arabia.” Gal. 1 : 17. He had not enjoyed the immediate tuition of Christ, as the other apostles had ; and therefore he retires into solitude for a season, to prepare for his office, by studying the law, meditation and prayer. To what part of Arabia he went we are not informed. Mount Sinai then was a shrine frequently visited by zealous Jews, such as Paul had 13* 150 PAUL AT SINAI. been. In the fourth chapter he speaks of the two cove* nants ; “ The one from the Mount Sinai which gendereth to bondage, which is Agar. For this Agar is Mount Sinai in Arabia.” There is at least some ground for the inference that Paul too may have been a pilgrim to Sinai, and from here “ returned again to Damascus,” as Elijah had done before him. March 20th. — How thankful we felt for this visit to the Mount of God, and thankful, too, when the hour of departure arrived ! One unaccustomed to its dreary, stern desolation, will find in a few days that it gendereth a sense of unrest. There is an unsatisfying pleasure in pitching one’s tent long near the Mount that can be touched, that burned with fire,” amid “blackness, dark¬ ness, and tempest.” Vfith light hearts we turned our faces from Sinai towards Zion. Ahmed had employed a certain number of Bedouins and camels. But as the “ hard times ” in the wilderness seldom gave them a chance to earn money, they flocked in until our caravan promised to become rather a large and expensive affair. The Bedouins have their own way of doing things. Bid¬ den or unbidden, they invited themselves to the feast. There was great scrambling and grabbing for loading ; once a good pile of this is on a camel’s back, his Arab master considers himself employed. But there was not enough for all, and so two held on to the same piece, pulling in different directions, their faces twisted into a grin of vengeance, screaming and hallooing furiously. Then comes a third claimant to settle the dispute, as the monkey did with the cheese. The noise, and clamoring rage of the Arabs presented a scene of the most savage confusion. The few Turkish soldiers placed here to pre¬ serve peace and protect travellers, only increased the TOMB OF AN ARAB SAINT. 151 riot. Finally, Ahmed took the law into his own hands, administering summary justice with his stick, and restored the peace of the camp. Again and again I looked hack for the last time on Horeh as we rode off through Wady Sheikh, until the last bluff disappeared behind the end of a ridge. An hour after we came to a small mosque with a white conical roof, containing the tomb of Sheikh Saleh, an Arab saint. A few grave-stones are scattered around it, where the Towara Arabs bury their dead. They say the saint had been a companion of Moses and Mohammed, and that he died while on a journey with the Prophet through here. In their ignorance of sacred history, they regard Noah, Moses, Christ, and Mohammed as having lived at the same time. His wooden coffin is supposed to be above the grave. This was covered with a white cloth, and rags and tattered shawls were hung on sticks placed around it. One of the Arabs asked for money to pay for the lights kept burning here day and night, which he tied in one corner of the covering. Much as they love money, none would touch this, though it remain here for a long time. They approach the tomb with reverence, and some say their prayers there. We had now entered a broader valley, named after this saint. Shepherd girls, climbing after their flocks, showed that a Bedouin encampment was near. At noon we were obliged to lunch on the hot, unshaded sand. The next day we met with many shittim trees, some as large as a medium-sized apple tree. Feeling weary, I dis¬ mounted and walked several miles ahead in quest of shade, to rest while the others would bring up the cara¬ van. Coming to a fork of the narrow valley, the path disappeared. After reclining here and reading awhile, the thought occurred to me that possibly I might have 152 DESERT SAND-R I VT: R S. strayed off the track altogether. To be lost in this endless confusion of mountain gorges, exposed to the rapacious cruelty of the Arabs, without bread, water, or the lan¬ guage to ask for it, would be no ordinary calamity. While musing over my melancholy situation in such an event, repeated shouts, but faintly heard, revealed my Arab with his camel in the distance, throwing up his hands and crying, “ Howaje, howaje ! ” I made haste to meet him, and soon found that my surmises were correct. Among the numerous creep-holes and branch-valleys I strayed into the wrong one, and had I gone much further it might have cost days to find me. Here, for the first time, we met the sand-rivers of the desert. The Wilderness of Sinai is not, as some suppose, a vast sheet of sand. The surface mostly consists of coarse gravel, pebbles and rocks ; but here were deep sand-beds, like drifted heaps of granular snow, through which the camels toiled with trembling, unsteady steps. Trackless as the sea, none but the native Bedouin could possibly steer toward the desired country here. The stranger has great difficulty to find the way in these pathless sand regions. The camel-tracks are soon covered over by the sand-storms. In some places stone-heaps are piled up to direct the traveller. Just as Jeremiah (31 : 21,) has it : “ Set thee up way-marhs : make thee high heaps^ set thine heart toward the highway, even the way which thou wentest.” Again there was no shade in which to enjoy our frugal noon-day meal. We hung the mat over a dead bush, which gave us enough to cover head and shoulders as we lay prostrate under it. We passed singular rock-formations ; granite, sandstone, and limestone succeeded each other in abrupt ledges, green, grey, black, red, white, brown, and sometimes ENCAMPMENT AT HAZEROTH. 15S all these colors commingling in blended streaks. Huge sand-rocks rose like islands out of these sand-rivers, covered with inscriptions, and a tissue of pores like mag¬ nified honey-combs. The weather was intensely hot ; heat poured from above and teemed from the sand, and every little breath of air through the narrow valley was like a blast from a hot oven. Our water from Mount Sinai became even warmer and less palatable than the Nile water. We encamped in Hazeroth, where Miriam was smitten with leprosy, because she and Aaron “spake against Moses because of the Ethiopian woman whom he had married.” Num. 12 : 1. Faint and weary, we hailed the rest of the Sabbath with unusual delight. The valley seemed gorged with heat. We resorted to every pos¬ sible expedient for relief. Only the roof of the tent was left for shade, the rest all open to get air if possible. The thermometer rose to 121 in the sun, and 93 in the shade. Still, on Monday morning, we resumed our jour- ney, greatly refreshed in body and spirit. Toward noon we were hailed by an Arab whom Ahmed had despatched from Wady Feiran, to engage for us the services of Sheikh Hussein at Akaba, in advance of other travellers. He informed us that Hussein was preparing for war with a neighboring tribe, and therefore could not take us to Petra through the territory of his enemy. We had all along counted on getting to Petra, next to Mount Sinai the most interesting place outside of Palestine. Good Friday and Easter we fondly hoped to spend at Jerusalem. Hussein was our only hope of gaining this two-fold object. The news of the messenger seemed to cut off all hope of attaining either, and, besides, would detain us a week longer in the wilderness. It was like the Hebrew disap- 154 THE FIERY SERPENTS. pointment in miniature. Mrs. S - soon found relief in a gush of tears ; the rest, less given to the melting mood than the gentle sex, choked away their grief in a few hours of sullen manly gloom. At noon we entered a narrow gorge. Wady El-Ain (valley of the well), so-called from a small brackish rill that ripples through it for a short distance, then soaks . away again in the sand. It is quite narrow, the rocks rising perpendicularly to 1000 feet, ledge lapping over ledge like the streets in Eastern cities, where the upper stories project and almost meet. As we proceeded, the intricate bluffs uncoiled themselves, disclosing at every turn new aspects of grandeur. A few palm trees grew along the water, and occasionally on the rocks was “ the hyssop that springeth out of the wall.” 1 Kings 4 : 33. All else was bare and barren. When Moses led the Hebrews through this “ great and terrible wilderness,” it abounded with “fiery serpents and scorpions.” Deut. 8 : 15. In many places the ground, or rather the rocks, are alive with serpents and large lizards, some a foot or more in length, with skins that shine like pearls. These reptiles are often of a bright blue and green color, and dart across your path, and under the rocks and loose stones, like arrows. May not these shining, dazzling reptiles be the fiery serpents with which the Lord scourged the Hebrews ? Hum. 21 : 6. The wilderness also still abounds with scorpions, the size of a large beetle. They usually hide below loose stones, and are very poisonous. The first thing in putting up our tent, was to turn over all the stones on the ground so as to clear away the scorpions. Threading down this deep road with our long line of camels, the view suddenly opened into the distance, and THE GULF OF AKABA. 155 there were the waters of the Gulf of Akaha, and beyond them the hills of Arabia Petra. What a feast when the eye escapes from the narrow rock-bound view of cliffs and sand, to look out once more over a varied scene of land and sea ! The camels were urged on at a quicker pace to get into the cooling sea-breeze along the shore. Large shoals of sea-monsters, like large logs, rolled about on the surface, which we took for porpoises and sharks. Regardless of these, we plunged into the cooling gulf, which washed away the melancholy humors of a whole week. We encamped near the sea amid a palm-grove. The beach was strewn with coral and sea-shells of every size and hue. Till late at night we sat before the door of the tent, watching and listening to the silvery weaves rolling and breaking on the shore, inhaling the exhilar¬ ating sea-air, and pouring out our grateful hearts in “ Sweet Home.” Watching the stars as one by one they dropped behind the adjacent western hills, we mused and spake of our homes way off in the West, over the broad ocean, and of our homes in heaven. Far out in the sea we heard the song of a few Arabs, who had mounted palm logs, and paddled out to catch fish for us. Visions of tumbling waves, and grinning, gaping sharks rose before my mind ; but in spite of these they brought fresh fish next morning, a rare dish on our table. How pretty the stars shine here, with which one feels a pecu¬ liar sympathy in this region ; the same that shone four thousand years ago ! ‘‘ The bands of Orion,” and the sweet influence of the Pleiades,” as seen under this Eastern sky, tell one much of good old Job, and form a cord of fellowship with him. How sublime and grand his poetry seems along this sea, and under the starry 156 SEA-SH ORE TRAVEL. heavens, where he sings of Him that sealeth up the stars, which alone spreadeth out the heavens, and tread-- eth upon the waves of the sea ” ! Job 9 : 7-8. These stars become links that bind one to the past, and make home and friends seem nearer. Often the thought that in six or eight hours my friends at home could see the same stars, apparently diminished the sense of distance between us. The next morning the Bedouins watered the camels at a neighboring well. They drew up the brackish water with cords tied to the corners of goat skins, and watered them out of their kneading basins. Looking down into the well, I unexpectedly got a glimpse of my unshaven face, so fierce and bushy with hair as almost to frighten me at my own image. The next day we travelled on the sea-coast, hunting shells and coral, as the rest jogged wearily along. For a few days my companion had been suffering with ner¬ vous weakness ; the intense heat and the tiresome motion of the camel aggravated the attack. I was compelled to conceal my fears. Every night I was fearful that the next morning would find him too weak to travel. I felt 7inexpectedly relieved when I found him able to mount his kneeling camel, on the day we hoped to reach Akaba. The mountains blocking up our passage along the sea, compelled us to turn into the valleys again. Again we had to cross a very steep and rugged pass. We dismounted to escape the slips and danger of the camels, which crept and clambered up the crooked zigzag path in single file. One would hardly believe how dex¬ terously these animals climb mountains. They step from rock to rock, with their heavy burdens, their soft feet holding ‘ to the smooth surface, like a cat, picking their A TURKISH GOVERNOR. 15T path with wonderful prudence and precision. Early in the afternoon we discovered a black line along the upper extremity of the gulf, which we hailed as the palm grove that encircles Akaba. As our patience, like our bodies, had been considerably fatigued, the distance seemed inconceivably great. Hour after hour we rode along the shell-strewn beach, and still it seemed far off. At 5 p. M. we reached the beginning of the grove, and en¬ camped near the village. The Bedouins embraced and kissed their friends with their usual gravity. Ahmed met a female acquaintance, whom he saluted with open arms and a smack of the lip. I took this as rather a tender salutation for a man who tells me he loves his wife too tenderly to have a second one. Soon after this woman set up a fearful racket about selling her chickens, to his great annoyance, when he pronounced her ‘‘an ugly thing.” A man of bronze complexion, dressed in a long scarlet robe, with a sash and fez, or red cap, and a few attendants, approached our tents soon after our arrival. He and his retinue soon found seats on the ground, lit his pipe, and opened a conver¬ sation with Ahmed, with an air of considerable import¬ ance. They interspersed their rapid speeches by cour¬ teously touching the lip and forehead with the hand. Occasionally his excellency would give Ahmed a few whiffs from his pipe, followed by complimentary touches. Upon inquiry we found that this swaggering personage was dignified with the title of “Governor of Akaba.” By this time the whole village had emptied its contents upon us in great confusion. Men brought sheep, women and children couched around us in a circle, with water, chickens, salad, milk, fish, and fresh bread. Aye, fresh bread ; coarse and ill-baked as it was, it proved a luxury 14 158 EZION-GEBER. we had not indulged in for weeks. Ahmed bought a sheep for seven dollars and a half, which in a very short time Mohammed had strung skinless to a tree. The sweet fresh water we got soon made us forget our trials of thirst on the way. I felt too tired to eat, and Mr. M. was still worse. In the evening the governor repeated his visit while Ahmed was eating his dinner. He at once set to without let or hindrance, and helped himself as an unhidden guest. I afterwards found him couching aside the cook’s wooden bowl, tearing away at a tough piece of turkey with his hands and teeth. After he had left, Ahmed complained of “the rude fellow,” for thrusting himself on him and feeding on his fare. Akaba, the Ezion-Geber of the Bible, is an insignifi¬ cant, dreary little village, nestled among a beautiful palm-grove, at the north end of the Gulf of Akaba. It comprises a fortress built for the protection of the Mecca pilgrimage, and a few filthy Arab huts around it, built of stone with roofs of palm branches. Numerous ra¬ vines, gullies, and earth heaps cover the surface around it. These slope and recede up towards the naked, rough mountains in the rear. The chief man of the village is our self-invited guest, the governor, who has a small posse of Turkish soldiers under him, all of whom are appointed by the Sultan. To avoid being robbed by them, we employed a few as guards. Though a wretched hamlet now, Ezion-Geber was an important port in the days of Solomon. “ King Solo¬ mon made a navy of ships in Ezion-Geber, which is be side Eloth, on the shore of the Red Sea, in the land of Edom.” 1 Kings 9 : 26. “ Jehoshaphat made ships of Tharshish to go to Ophir for gold : but they went not : for the ships were broken at Ezion-Geber.” 1 Kings 22 : FORMER IMPORTANCE OF AKABA. 159 48. And long before this, the Hebrews “ encamped at Ezion-Geber,” on their way to Canaan. Num. 33 : 35. These two gulfs, the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Akaba, form the fork comprising the Peninsula of Sinai. In the prosperous period of the Jewish kingdom, the Gulf of Akaba was the grand highway of communica¬ tion between Canaan and India, the thoroughfare of the fleets of Solomon and Jehoshaphat. But the proud fleets in which the treasures of Judea and the gold of Ophir were borne, have all vanished. Only once a year a few vessels sail around from Suez to Akaba with provisions for the Mecca pilgrimage. When these are gone, there is neither ship nor skiff to be seen on the gulf; only the small palm-raft of an occasional Arab fisherman. All the afiluent trade between India and Europe now passes over the Gulf of Suez, which, during the Hebrew monarchy, was as much deserted as the Gulf of Akaba now is. Thus, like the flow and ebb of their tide, the two great lines of India trafiic have alternately passed up the eastern and the western gulf. It would be interesting to study the bearing these two links of social and commercial communication between the East and West have had, and still may have, on the history of the world. The relation which India is as¬ suming to the Western nations, promises to be of im¬ mense importance. What momentous results for modern civilization may yet flow from the mutual intercourse thus carried on over the Gulf of Suez ! The service which it rendered the Church in slaying her enemies, may be the type of another great mission it is to perform in the future history of Christ’s kingdom. Down into the corner of these two gulfs runs the wil- ncrness of Sinai, reaching its climax in Mount Sinai. 160 THE HISTORY OF SINAI. From any of its higher mountains, one or both of them can he seen. The learned Chevalier Bunsen says that “Egypt has, properly speaking, no history. History was born on that night when Moses led forth his people from Goshen.” Coming from Egypt through the desert of Arabia, one feels the force of this remark. You never tire admiring the tombs, monuments, and Pyramids of the Pharaohs of Egypt ; hut their inscriptions, even ■when deciphered, fail to give that evolution of events which constitutes history. The number of kings and slaves, of possessions, sacrifices, and religions, in the abstract, are not history. But as soon as you get to the Bed Sea, you are struck wdth the development of events which, from these on, follow in living succession, as if bound together by one vital thread. The Exodus is the only historic tide which has ever rolled across the wilder¬ ness. Here they found Amalek, fought, and discomfited him ; and here are those like him to this day. It would seem that, with real Bedouin cunning, he took advantage of the drooping, famishing condition of the Hebrews, — • attacked the faint and exhausted in the rear ; “ smote the hindmost of thee, even all that were feeble behind thee, when thou wast faint and weary.” Deut. 25 : 18. Those forty years of wandering are all the history we have of Sinai. Of the people and tribes that have lived, fought, and died here before and since, the world has neither record nor history. Every thing in the wilderness is seen in the light of this great event. The black- veiled Bedouin women, leading their goats along the mountains, always call up images of Jethro’s daughters; the primitive habits and costume of the Bedouin give one a picture of the pro¬ bable appearance of the Hebrews ; the long lines of THE TAWARAH ARABS. 161 black tents around the desert springs, present a faint image of the vast encampment gathered round the one sacred tent, with its coverings of dyed skins. Where did they bury their dead ? Like the few nameless stones around the tomh of Sheikh Saleh, so Hebrew graves may have clustered around their encampments. The population of the Peninsula is estimated at about 4000. The southern half belongs to the Tawarah Arabs. These are divided into a number of smaller tribes or clans. Some of them are as vigilant of their pedigree as the Hebrews, even forbidding intermarriages. They are said to be the poorest of the Bedouin tribes. No grain is raised in the whole region. Their pasturage is ex¬ ceedingly meagre. Their flocks consist chiefly of goats, and not many of these. Sheep, asses, cattle, horses, are not found here, only camels and goats. These fur¬ nish them with milk and meat, and that very sparingly. They make small quantities of charcoal from their little wood, and gather a few dates from the palm-trees at Feiran for the market. They hire their camels to trans¬ port goods and coal between Cairo and Suez. In this respect they are like their ancient brethren, the com¬ pany of Ishmaelites with their camels” and burdens, who bought Joseph and took him along to Egypt. Gen. 37 ; 25. These, together with their occasional earnings for carrying travellers through the wilderness, furnish the trifling sum with which they buy their grain and clothing at Cairo for the whole tribe. Their camels are small and very poor, owing to their scanty pasture ; and when the rains fail, the camels die, and the poor Arab must starve or seek refuge with others. And an army or nation, but one-tenth as numerous as the Hebrews, travelling through this wilderness of Arabia now, would 11* L 1 162 PHILOSOPHY OF POVERTY. either have to bring their food and water along from Egypt, or receive manna from heaven, and water from the smitten rock, or starve,- After you leave Egypt, no grain can be grown ; and after you leave Suez, none can be bought. We know how the Hebrews were furnished with the manna” for their own use, but they had ‘‘flocks and herds, even very much cattle.” Ex. 12 : 38. How were these fed ? Nothing short of a constant miracle could take these through the wilderness as we now find it. We read of no miracle performed for the sustenance of “the herds.” At least thirty-eight of the forty years were spent in the broad northern wadys of the wilderness, where they led a Bedouin life, perhaps leading their flocks over a large district. Here there is some green brushwood, and a little more herbage than farther south. But where did they get feed for all their cattle during the two years’ wandering around Rephidim, Horeb, and Hazeroth ? Certainly there must have been more vege¬ tation there than now — a supposition not improbable or unnatural. The geology of many countries has under¬ gone greater changes than this theory would require, in less than 3000 years. These Bedouins seem happy and contented in spite of their poverty. Philosophers have often remarked that we increase our happiness in proportion as we reduce our wants. Though few practise this princi¬ ple from choice, those who do it from necessity are often the better for it. If this remark be true, these swarthy children of the Desert ought to enjoy life in a very high degree. They are free from sinful luxuries. They eat and wear but little. Ground unboiled barley, unleavened and unlarded, mixed and kneaded with water, makes their daily bread ; seldom anything else, and very I THE AVENGER OF BLOOD. 163 little of this. The women wrap themselves, head, face, and all, in a blue cotton cloth, black with filth ; the men wear sandals of the dried skin of a fish from the Red Sea, a sleeveless slip nearly equivalent to a man’s shirt, with a belt, turban, and a coarse blanket for the cool nights. They live in happy ignorance of the refinements of civilized lift. Their houses being unencumbered with floors, carpets, or even beds, without chairs, tables, or cupboards, their washing, mending, and scouring gives them little trouble. Their lungs are not crammed with close unventilated air in their open tents, nor their sto¬ machs with barbarous loads of unmanageable dishes. I heard of no dyspepsia or corns. The construction of their dwellings and garments is such as not to shut out God’s cheering sunlight, and the pure air of life. One coming from among the artificial and fictitious wants of Europe and America, sees much in the simple, contented life of the Bedouin, to put civilization to the blush. They are reputed as strictly honest among themselves. It is said if an Arab’s camel dies on the road, and he cannot remove the load, he only scratches a circle around it in the sand, and no one will touch it for months. To¬ ward strangers they are not always so strictly just. The sheikh or chief of the tribe is the judge in the set¬ tlement of all disputes, after the style of the ancient patriarchs. If an Arab is murdered, it will be the duty of his nearest relative to avenge his blood, by killing the murderer or his nearest kin. He will pursue him from tribe to tribe for long years, never resting in peace while the unavenged blood of his kinsman cries from the ground. Moses had to oppose and guard against the cruelty of this law, ty appointing cities of refuge, which, however, the Bedouins have not. Num. 35 : 19. We 164 IGNOEANCE OF THE BEDOUINS. found them uniformly trustworthy. After all the pack¬ ings and unpackings of our goods, I do not remember a single article to have been stolen. It is said if you eat bread with a Bedouin in his tent, he will give his life in your defence. From my experience I have no reason to doubt this remark. They are most inveterate beggars, and extremely fond of money, for which their poverty, however, is a partial excuse. They are always on the alert for bucksheesh (a present). If you drop your cane or cloak, or sometimes only look at them pleasantly, they will put the everlasting bucksheesh at you. When we approached Sinai, and wherever a set saw that we were approaching a place where their services would end, their clamoring duns left us no peace. It is said that not one of the T^warah Arabs, not even their Sheikh, can read or write. And other tribes seem little better. Sheikh Hussein, of the Alouin tribe, pos¬ sessing immense wealth, can neither read nor write his name. They all profess the Mohammedan faith, but it sits very loosely upon them. I never saw one of them pray. They have no one to read the Koran for them. Their faith resembles that in Abrahamic times. They believe in God, who made the heavens^and the earth. He dwells in heaven, and from him they expect and receive all good. All misfortune they likewise ascribe to Him. In their darkest calamities and trials they say : “Allah (God) hath sent it, therefore it must be good.” With all this apparent reverence for Allah, they are shock¬ ingly profane. In almost every other sentence you hear the “Wallah,” (by God,) sometimes even in reply to the remark of another one. Sometimes Ahmed would turn away to us with horror, saying : “ These are ugly men, they swear to almost every word.” THE BEDOUIN AND HIS CAMEL. 165 They are of an intensely excitable temperament, full of fire. Sometimes an ordinary conversation arouses them to loud vociferations and violent gesticulations, as if they were ready to devour one another. They are the true children of their ancient father, Ishmael, of whom the Lord said : “ He will he a wild man ; his hand will be against every man, and every man’s hand against him.” Gen. 16 : 12. True to their friends, they plunder and rob the stranger, and are almost constantly warring with neighboring tribes. The Bedouin lives on the kindest and most familiar terms with his camel. And well he may, for he earns his money to buy bread and brings it home for him, his hair is used for clothing, and the dung for fuel, and his milk for food. When he has done his life’s work the Bedouin eats his flesh, and sends the camel to Paradise, where he hopes to live with him after death. He calls him The Ship of the Desert.” They both eat and drink out of the same basin, sleep in a common herd, and mutually share the sunshine and shade of life. They are companions in peace and war. They are growling, croaking beings. In¬ stead of the most patient of animals, as I fancied them to be, there is no end to their grumbling. Sometimes a crush¬ ing burden gives them cause for it. As the camel must kneel to receive his loading, his great effort to rise under it sometimes sets every joint in his body to cracking But he grumbles when the load is put on, and when it is taken off ; like his master’s bucksheesh, a mere look will often provoke his petulance. I saw only one Arab beat¬ ing his camel. They treat their snarling complaints with great forbearance. I could seldom apply the switch never so slightly, without being rebuked by the watchful owner with “la, la!” (no, no!) Nature has eminently 166 CHARACTER OF THE CAMEL. adapted the camel for this part of the globe. He can travel from eight to ten days without water, hut then he drinks till his skin is blown out to the utmost dimensions. When grass and grain fail he eats thistles and the thorny branches of the shittim tree, grinding up the wood with a noise like that of a bark-mill. For hours our Bedouins would sing after their camels to ease their toil, promising the reward of kindness on earth, and at the end of life a home with the Prophet. I am not sure but what one of mine had an ear for music, for these Arab lullabies seemed to make him put on a marvellously patient and contented air. They have their own way of telling their sorrows. When they cannot rise with their load, they gargle most pitifully. When the back is sore they throw themselves on the ground, whether the load be a lady or a bag of coffee. One day Mrs. S - was leisurely riding toward the Red Sea, when her camel, without a groan of warn¬ ing, threw himself suddenly on his knees and her over his head, which was to inform her that the saddle rubbed him. Such are a few traits of this friend of the Bedouin. I know not whether his kindness towards the animal springs from policy or affection, but next to his wife and children his camel is his first great care. He hails the advent of a young one with the words : “ To us a child is born.” His life is precious as a brother’s. When a foe maliciously slays him, the wrath of the avenger pursues him unto death. Upon our arrival at Akaba we learned, to our regret, that the intelligence of our messenger had been correct. Sheikh Hussein was, no one knew where. Some said he was six, others twelve days’ journey off. He was pre¬ paring for war with the Petra tribe, and could not be seen b> travellers. Hussein is the Sheikh of the very AN ANNOYING DELAY. 167 large Alouin tribe, and usually the only one that can transport travellers to Petra and directly to Hebron. Though his sordid, greedy disposition has become a ter¬ ror to travellers, they cannot well do without him. In a civilized country, where a man has at least a right to his legs, if not to cars and coaches, one can scarcely imagine what a pinching predicament such a disappointment would cause in Arabia. Here there was no shouldering of one’s knapsack or hiring of a private conveyance to the next town. All the conveyances, public and private, were Hussein’s camels, and they had ceased running, and the next town was Hebron, nearly a week olF. Here we were among hostile tribes of these wild Ishmaelites, in the heart of the inhospitable desert, the road blockaded by savage feuds. True, we were at the sea, but without a ship to take us. The party which brought us from Sinai were foes of the Petra tribe, and therefore could not take us through their territory. We might return to Sinai with them, but that would not be so pleasant either. There was only one way open, a circuitous route round by Nakel, which would make our journey a week longer. Feeling greatly exhausted, we fortunately concluded to tarry and rest a few days at Akaba. This would at the same time enable us to retain the delightful society of our London friends. The next morning we opened the sides of the tent to admit the refreshing breeze, and threw off all superfluous clothing to enjoy it the more freely. While I was thus writing at a cross-legged table, without coat, vest, or shoes, Ahmed came down through the grove in evident good spirits, with three Bedouins, whom he introduced as Sheikh Hassan Abou Baschid, ‘‘ one of the most power¬ ful chiefs of the desert,” and his brother and nephew. 168 A DESERT CHIEFTAIN. This sudden surprise, and its pompous introduction, under the circumstances, threw me into a ludicrous embarrass¬ ment. The Sheikh took off something between moccasins and half-boots outside of the tent, so that I was strictly in order in bare feet ; then we shook hands, by touching the palms of the hand horizontally, and interchanged the customary touches of the face and breast. We invited them to a seat on the camp-stools, but his brother pre¬ ferred the mat on the ground. The Sheikh tried to acco¬ modate himself to his seat for awhile with evident incon¬ venience, and after shifting and trying to sit in various ways, he pushed the stool to a side and squatted on the mat. We called for coffee and pipes ; the Sheikh, however, being an anti-tobacco man, frankly declared that he felt better without it. , He was a man past middle life, of medium height, slightly corpulent, with a broad expanded forehead, an oval face, a black piercing eagle-eye, a sprinkling of age in his beard, and a smile playing on his cheek. He wore the usual Bedouin apparel. A silken burnouse with red and yellow stripes, fastened with a skein of yarn around the top of the head ; a woollen striped blanket with arm-holes loosely hung over a dirty sleeveless shirt, with a girdle and a Damascus sword at his side, constituted his regal uniform, the same that his subjects wore. His walk and bearing seemed like the impersonation of gracefulness and dignity, — a most per¬ fect specimen of a bold, independent chieftain. All the while I had to think of Ishmael and Esau, sheikhs of their respective tribes, with precisely similar habits. No amount of artificial culture could have increased the un¬ assumed easy dignity of his manners. The object of his visit was simply this : A few days before he received word that no travellers had been able to visit Petra this spring, ARABS BARGAINING. 169 on account of Hussein’s absence. Rascbid being, as be said, on friendly terms with the Petra tribe, and having 4000 men at his command to awe the other tribes into good behaviour, at once set out for Akaba, to offer his services in transporting travellers over the desired route. Of course we at once welcomed him as a Providential messenger, and immediately negotiated for our safe transport. Our interview presented a picturesque scene, blending primitive with modern features. The Shiekh and his at¬ tendants, with Ahmed and the other dragoman, sat in a circle on the ground ; Mr. M - on his Ioav bed, and I still at the table, whiffing away most orientally in my dishabilles. The dragomen couched down before the Shiekh, pressing their hands and fingers ; then, as if startled, grasping the hand of Raschid, and speaking with apparent anxiety and great vehemence. For a while the Sheikh spoke with calmness, the very picture of composure. Occasionally he would speak into their ears with a loud whisper, then again he started with a shout of bargaining zeal. The contract was closed, and a messenger sent for camels, which were to arrive in four days. In the evening Raschid and his men, ten in number, dined with us. All the courses consisted of a quarter of mutton in a wooden dish, able to contain a peck, filled up with rice. The Bedouin is ignorant of that refine¬ ment of gluttony among civilized nations, which stimu¬ lates appetite by inventing a great variety of incongruous dishes, and thus gorging oppressed nature to death. Some one has quaintly said that ‘‘many people dig their graves with their teeth,” wffiich is not without truth. However, I ought perhaps to remark that what the Be- 15 170 BEDOUIN FARE. douin lacks in variety he makes up in quantity, when he can get it ; for Ahmed told us that each one ate as much as five ordinary men. But, as the entertainment was given at his expense, he may not have been in a position to judge them fairly. The arrival of Raschid had a charming effect on the health of the camp. It dispelled fatigue, braced the nerves, and put us in good humor with every other annoyance. j / A DREARY GRAVE. ITl CHAPTER VIII. /rum tn |5rtrii nni Four days before our arrival at Akaba, Rev. Mr. Lunt, from Boston, died here. We had met him in Cairo, and at one time thought of forming a party with him. He travelled with a young Scotchman and his tutor. The exertions which it cost him to ascend Mount Sinai brought on the eastern fever. Desirous of reaching more comfortable quarters, they brought him through the hot, thirsty desert to Akaba, on a camel, which greatly aggravated his disease. Here he lingered a few days, the faithful Scotchman nursing him as best he could. Just before he died, he pressed the hand of his friend and begged him not to desert him, as he would die soon. They could get no shroud, not even a rough board-box to give him a decent burial. His comrades rolled him in his mattrass, and buried him on a small hill, back of the village. We visited his grave one afternoon, and found the spot excessively dreary. He lies buried alone, and will remain so; for the Mohammedans bury not their dead with persons of another faith. No tree nor blade of grass marked the spot, not even his name ; only a heap of stones thrown over him to protect his body against hungry dogs and hyenas. It was indeed a ead sight to leave one with whom we had socially mingled 172 CHARMING SUNSETS. but a month before, in the sterile, parched region of death, where not a shrub or blade of grass grows round his tomb, and where the very spot will, perhaps, be lost forever in a few months. A stranger, to be ill and die in such a land, a week from the nearest town, without sympathy or medical aid ; with fevery visions of a loving wife and family around him, while the burning disease is fast consuming him, and at last to be left, even dead, in this dreary land, from which the feuds and quarrels of Bedouin tribes may at any time exclude the visit of affec¬ tion ; this, in truth, seems a melancholy fate. Never did I feel, as I there felt, the force of Jacob’s request: “Bury me with my fathers.” Gen. 49 : 29. After my return home, I wrote to a friend in Boston, giving him a description of the circumstances of his death and burial. He informs me that he communicated it to his sorrowing widow, who derived a melancholy pleasure from hearing of one who had seen the place where he was laid. Two years before, an English minister from Liverpool died in Wady Feirdn, whose widowed wife had to see him buried alone near a heap of sand, where there was nc tree, flower, nor stone, to mark his grave. Beautiful and glorious were the sunsets, as seen from among these lofty palms. The sky was^ flooded with an orange hue, which softly melted into rose-tints as it waved away into twilight. Then came an after-sunset, darting new rays of glory into the heavens. The cres¬ cent of the young moon appeared hanging above the horizon, with Venus suspended over her, and following in her track. The shade, air, and sea-bathing, which we enjoyed here, was a grateful luxury after our previous adventures. Akaba combines the advantages of land and sea, without many of their anno^^ances. The DEVOUT TURKS. 173 swarms of flies which pestered us, could be borne with a little efibrt, and the thievish, famishing dogs, which prowled around our tents, were endurable so long as they kept from our persons. The excellent fresh flsh which daily graced our table, were quite a dainty. Some of them were of a red color, whose blood seemed to shine through their fins. Flocks of smaller ones, like finny birds, flew over the surface, sometimes skipping a rod without touching the water, to escape the hungry tribe of their larger pursuers. The few Turks at Akaba strictly practise the rites of their religion. In the morn¬ ing before day, we heard them saying their prayers around the tent. Wherever the hour of prayer found them, they would spread a piece of garment on the ground, and perform their genuflexions and devotions with the same oflf-hand, matter-of-course air, as they would smoke a pipe or eat bread. One morning I walked round to Ahmed’s tent, and found that he was again entertaining his noble guest around the large wooden dish. They were sitting on the ground, where nature took the place of knives, forks, and spoons. I could easily understand how they managed the rice, for they twisted their finger-ends into a spoon and pawed into it with manifest relish. But the dncarved mutton was not so easily disposed of. With the help of a short sword a slice was started, and then stripped down with the hands. Courtesy should have prompted us to eat with them out of the same dish, but a man’s education is often a very stubborn thing. One finds no little difficulty to engage in such a hand-to-hand ceremony, over a common dish of pilau, in which persons figure who are alive with all manner of creeping things not invited to the feast. They washed their hands 15* 174 A BEDOUIN SHYLOCK. before and after the meal, by the way an important matter when so many hands meet on the same plate. This ancient and reasonable custom the Pharisees mag¬ nified into a command, who, “ except they wash their hands oft, eat not.” Mark 7 : 2-4. I noticed that Ras- chid’s servant poured the water on his hands while he washed them — an office coming from ancient times. ‘‘And one of the King of Israel’s servants answered and said, Here is Elisha, the son of Shaphat, which poured water on the hands of Elijah.'' 2 Kings 3 : 11. While waiting for our camels, two new parties arrived. On the last night at Akaba, the two Raschids and all the dragomen met in our tent to draw up a formal agree¬ ment. At first, the Shiekh spoke of twelve dollars per camel from here to Hebron. At this rate, Ahmed en¬ gaged eight for myself and Mr. M - . But this even¬ ing he demanded fourteen dollars apiece ; then demanded fourteen dollars for an extra camel for his own use, and finally put on five dollars extra for going to Petra. He was our only chance, and he knew that we felt it. We submitted to all his exacting efforts, until he demanded ten dollars bucksheesh for signing the article of agree¬ ment. He would hear of nothing else until the ladies interposed, of whom we now had two in the camp. The Bedouins look upon the fair-skinned, unveiled females of the West with a reverence almost bordering on super¬ stition. They told him that in our nation the custom was to reward with presents the performance of a good act, but not its promise. Finally, the scribe of the vil¬ lage was sent for to write the agreement. This class still exists as a profession in the East. He brought his reed-pen and inkhorn stuck in his girdle, and wrote with the paper on the palm of his left hand, instead of laying j THE ORIENTAL SCRIBE. 175 it on a table or desk. Where but few persons can write, and where even many of the books have to be written off by hand, there is a great demand for these scribes or writers. In Ezek. 9 a writer is mentioned with his ink- horn by his side (or upon his loins), just as these have them. The scribes, in our Saviour’s time, were the tran¬ scribers and explainers of the law; and where there were no printing presses, there must have been much work for these men. For his short task, he demanded five dollars, but finally reduced his fee to the usual amount of twenty- five cents. Raschid, thinking, perhaps, that he had car¬ ried his attempted extortions far enough, took oif the ring from his finger, put a little ink on it, and pressed the seal of it on the paper, which is still the general mode of signing a contract in the East. The Jews who made a covenant in the days of Nehemiah, put their ‘‘seal unto it.” Neh. 9 : 38. And in the days of Esther the Queen, the scribes of King Ahasuerus wrote letters to the governors of his provinces, “ and sealed them with the king's ring*" Esther 3 : 12. In most Eastern countries, every one that can afford it has a seal¬ ring on his little finger, which is used to sign letters, contracts, etc., whose impression is considered more sacred than the written signature of the person. The strongest expression of confidence in another, is to pull off this ring and put it on his hand, as Pharaoh did to Joseph. Gen. 41 : 42. Our agreement with Raschid would, of course, have been worthless, if he had seen fit to violate it. These Bedouin kings are not amenable to any tribunal. When all is over, one’s only hope is their native honesty. Our Sinai- Arabs, and their sheikh, or captain of their party, left Akaba the same day we did. They were a 176 TROUBLESOME CAMELS. kind-hearted, faithful set of fellows, and of course asked for bucksheesh . After distributing gifts, we passed through the solemn ceremony of parting ; they turning their faces toward their bleak mountain home, and we ours toward Canaan. It was on a beautiful Sabbath. We had spent the former part of the day in singing our favorite Desert hymns — “ Come, thou fount of every blessing,” “ Guide me, 0 thou great Jehovah,” and Upward I lift mine eyes,” together with other devotional ser vices. . Ahmed and the Sheikh insisted on our decamping in the afternoon. We remonstrated, hut finally had to yield. Raschid’s men were awkward, and the camels wild and untrained. Ahmed’s ran away from him. Bags and bottles fiew in a}! directions ; and the blankets, flap¬ ping on the poor beast, increased his fright, and gave him the appearance of a running ostrich. This started the others, and threw the whole caravan into confusion. A large one carried the kitchen in two large chests. The rattling and breaking of pans and plates sent him off along the line, and threatened to end the matter more seriously than it began. The Alouin Arabs were a stupid set, and seemed to know little more than their camels. After a while quiet was restored, save one large camel, which was ungovernable. The leader finally pierced his nostrils, and tied the halter through it, which made him quite submissive. It is surprising what heavy burdens they bear. An ordinary camel will carry on his bended, arch-like back, from eight to ten hundred-weight with ease. We encamped in sight of the gulf, and only about two miles from it. At dusk a violent storm arose. The air was thick with sand, and our fires flew off in large sparks ; and the tents reeled as if ready to fall to pieces every SPEED OF THE CAMEL. 177 moment. One of them was only partly up when it com¬ menced. The pins flew out as fast as the Arabs could drive them in. It continued to howl to a late hour. Storms are often unpleasant, even when we live in strong dwellings, but in tents it is far worse. One hardly knows whether to lodge in the open air, or run the risk of be¬ coming entangled among cords and canvass. You watch the roof, ready for the first puff of wind to bring it down on you. Out here, in the houseless waste, where there is neither tree, rock, nor roof to shelter you, in a dark, dreary night, you will be able to understand Isaiah’s image of the refuge of Christ’s kingdom, which shall “ be for a covert from storm and from rain.” Isaiah 4 : 6. March ^Oth. — Next morning dawned upon us clear and calm. Raschid had remained at Akaba to bring out one of the remaining parties. Several hours after we had started, we saw him approaching in the distance, as fast as his camel could carry him. The fleetness of these clumsy, crooked-limbed animals is almost incredible. When they amble leisurely along, their gait is endurable ; but at full speed, their long, swinging pace is trying to the most closely knit joints, and scarcely to be borne. The Sheikh, however, sat as firmly as if he had been part and parcel of the camel’s hump. He had a gun slung across his back, a long sword at his side, a burnouse and loose garments streaming in the air ; these, with his native brave look, gave him the appearance of a genuine independent warrior-chief, ready to defy all the Bedouins in Arabia. About encamping time he usually rode in advance, planted his gun on the ground, as Saul did his spear, indicating the spot for his abode and rest until next morning. The rest would then encamp and lodge around him. Raschid had no spear, but Hussein is said M 178 A LARGE CA R AVA N. to dismount at the head of his caravaus, and stick Lis spear near his intended bed or bolster. 1 Sam. 26 : 7. By this time, our four parties constituting the caravan made quite a formidable appearance. We had about fifty camels, sometimes forming a line a mile long, eleven travellers, and about fifty Arabs. Our encampment called to mind the large wandering families of the Patriarchs, living in movable villages. Our eleven tents were near together, and the camels kneeling around them ; the watch-fires sent up curling columns of smoke, as groups of Arabs sat around them, kneading their bread and smoking pipes. Our new servants were an inexpert set. Raschid gave us too few, and half of these were good for nothing. Some would or could not tie a cord. The order to en¬ camp and decamp was always the signal for a scene of riotous confusion. The stubborn, untractable camels made it still worse. Mohammed and Ahmed would raise the tent-pole, and vainly call for aid to fasten the cords, until the baffled and enraged dragoman flung about his arms and screamed like a man possessed. At night we reclined promiscuously around the Bedouins’ watch-fire. They never ceased wondering at our unveiled, fair¬ skinned women. A little old Arab had many questions to ask of Mrs. S. and her home ; among others, whether she had any children. With an air of assumed sadness, she replied no. The poor man looked at her with min¬ gled pity and distress, and said: ‘‘Allah is great.” To be childless they still consider a mark of God’s dis¬ pleasure, and as great a misfortune as that of Abraham or Rachel. For the last few days we had been travelling through the Arabah, a broad valley, from four to eight miles MOUNT SEIR. 179 wide, and extending from tlie Gulf of Akaba to the Dead Sea. Bushes of tamarisk and desert-grass were found in many places. Erom a distance the ground seemed covered, with luxuriant vegetation, which a closer view showed to be thinly-scattered brushwood. Every day we started various kinds of game — hares and par¬ tridges of a very large size ; and gazelles, nearly as large as our American deer, perhaps the same as David’s “hart” panting for water when pursued in the chase; or, as some suppose, the roe of the Bible. Psalm 42 : 1. On the East, Mount Seir, which God gave “ unto Esau for a possession,” rises abruptly out of the plain to the height of two or three thousand feet. Deut. 2 : 5. In the wilderness, one cannot always be certain that he is on the precise track of the Hebrews ; they may have passed up this valley on their way to Zin. Certain it is, that after “Edom refused to give Israel a passage through his border,” they returned to Akaba through this valley. For “ they journeyed from Mount Hor by way of the Bed Sea, to compass the land of Edom.” Num. 21 : 4. On the second day, w^e encamped near a family of the Alouin Arabs, which aided us to realize more vividly the Hebrew scene. A line of black tents were stretched along the base of Mount Seir. Their goat-herds, don¬ keys, and a few camels were grazing over the plain. In the evening, boys and women brought them to the tents in small flocks. They seemed to be the monarchs of all they surveyed. Their flocks quietly roamed over the broad valley, cropping and browsing to their heart’s content. It was a complete picture of a pastoral scene of olden times, and as you still find them among the nomadic tribes of the East. Some of the women lounged 180 WOMAN AMONG THE BEDOUINS. around the cook’s tent, watching his culinary operations with amusing interest. Many of these men are noble specimens of their race, in form and demeanor ; but the women are sadly wanting in both. They are coarse- featured, ugly by nature and practice. Their filthy gar¬ ments, tatooed hands and faces, in short, their whole exterior, is ugliness incarnate. Tatooing consists in painting blue lines on the chin and forehead, sometimes on the back of the hands and arms. Those who get their ideas of Woman in the Orient from the Old Testa¬ ment, may have heavenly visions of the sweet Arab damsels, the incarnation of Purity, Love, and Beauty. But some of the worthiest females of the Hebrews were afflicted with envy and jealousy, and travelling through it now, one’s ideas of womanly delicacy are most pain¬ fully shocked. A slight provocation will excite a savage cackling, which the proficiency of Xantippe could scarcely equal. Here woman is a bond-slave, an appendage rather than a companion of man, the merest drudge of her lord, so degraded and repulsive in her appearance that she seems but a short remove above the animals around her. Pro¬ perly speaking, she has no domestic sphere here. House¬ hold work she has none — no beds to make, no rooms to sweep, nor tables to set. She puts her goat-milk into a tanned goat-skin, hangs it to a pole, where she swings and jerks it into butter. She spreads the butter on a board, and ploughs through it with a grass stem to fish the hair out which the skin left in. Unleavened cakes are easily baked in the hot ashes of their camp-fires. Even where she does the cooking, her lord eats, and when all is done she gets the crumbs. The canvas of the tent m this region is made of camel’s hair. A curtain sepa- SHEIKH HUSSEIN’S ENTERTAINMENT. 181 rates each one into two apartments, the smaller one being occupied by the wives and children, and the larger one by the husband. The tents are of an oblong shape, with an open front. All tent's, like the tabernacle of Moses, are much longer than wide. Ex. 26. The canvas is stretched over ropes fastened on four or five upright poles. Strauss of Berlin, in his “ Sinai und Golgotha,” gives an interesting description of an entertainment which Sheikh Hussein gave to his party. “ The Sheikh sent to his fiock, kept by his oldest daughter. A young lamb was brought, killed, and prepared. Meanwhile his wife in the other apartment took fine meal, kneaded it, and made cakes upon the hearth. At the end of two hours the Sheikh brought the dinner in two wooden dishes, the one containing broth with the tenderest parts of the lamb, and the other the remaining pieces. The bread had to serve as spoons. Only the Sheikh ate with us. The * rest reverently waited, scattered over the large encamp¬ ment. While eating we noticed a shaking of the curtain between the two apartments, and there saw the wife of the Sheikh peeping and listening through a rent in it. So Sarah listened behind ^ the tent-door ’ when Abra¬ ham entertained the angels in the plains of Marare. His two children came from time to time, and with curious wonder gazed at the strangers, then slyly and quickly retired, perhaps to relate the news to their mother. The dinner over, each of the rest received a bread-cake and a small piece of meat, according to their age and rank. To Musa, his representative, the Sheikh gave, after the old Oriental right, at least a double portion. Deut. 21 : 17. It was an entertainment precisely as Abraham gave one 4000 years ago.” A'pril Is^. — We continued in the Arabah, still abound- 16 182 DISTANT VIEW OF MOUNT HOR. ing with tamarisk-bushes. The Arabs, most cruellj^ stingy, brought no grain-feed along for the camels. They had plenty of leaves, but these did not suffice for their pre¬ sent work. Our journey to-day was but a grazing-march. Pressed with hunger, they ran after every green bush along the track, to the great annoyance of their riders. To avoid these abrupt digressions, I gave mine liberty to crop branches for awhile, with the hope that he then would go on his way in peace, but it availed nothing. In the afternoon we passed a small plot of wheat, the first since we had left Egypt. Turning eastward, the bold top of Mount Hor loomed up behind the neighboring mountain-ridge, giving us the first view of the ‘‘ Moun¬ tain of Aaron.” We encamped near an isolated rock, with an excavated chamber on the top. While tarrying here till the next morning, on the border of Seir, we think of the watchful waiting of Dumah : ‘‘ He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night ; what of the night? The watchman said. The morning cometh, and also the night.” Is. 21 : 11. Standing at the door of that elevated little rock-house, Stanley’s remark fur¬ nishes a pleasant conjecture, that this very rock may have been the outpost for the sentinel which Isaiah had in his eye. During the day the camp was rife with rumors that Raschid meditated a breach of the contract. We en¬ camped an hour too soon for him, which added fuel to his mischief. We convened a council on two rugs spread on the sand, on which we all sat in a circle, and coolly summoned the Sheikh to appear before us. I expected a Niagara of Arab wrath, but, to my utter surprise, he was gentle as a lamb. He told us that last year a kins¬ man of his had killed the Sheikh of a Petra family. To- A STARTLING PROPOSITION. 183 day he met an Arab, who informed him that the Petra tribe heard of his coming, and were on the alert to avenge the blood of their kinsman. At Akaba he had assured us that he was at peace with Petra. I felt sorry that my good opinion of Raschid should be doomed to wane so soon. He proposed to take us within five hours of Petra that evening yet, and then start soon after mid¬ night the next morning, so as to be able to return the same day. The almost impassable mountain paths, and the interesting and extensive sights of the place, would have made it too severe a day for the men, and still more so for the ladies. We appealed to the contract, which allowed us two days at Petra ; told him we had come thousands of miles to see Edom (Petra), and to Edom we would go. At length he consented to give us two days, provided we would give him a written certifi¬ cate releasing him from all responsibility, saying that he was willing to risk his own life, but would not be held accountable for ours. But to have granted his request, might have left us unprotected and without means of transport in this horrible waste. Then he proposed that we should leave all our luggage in the Arabah, only take the camels we rode and food enough until our return, without even a tent for the ladies to lodge in. This aroused the chivalric spirit of the camp, which gave the chief a hint about the elevation of woman in other parts of the world. Finally he allowed us to take a small cooking tent along for the ladies, food for three or four meals, while the tents, cooks, and all their machinery, were to be left back. The reason of his great caution in this respect, was to disencumber the caravan from every impediment to a rapid retreat. To have a score of burdened camels moving over these craggy hills at a 184 THE OURSES AGAINST EDOM. snail s pace, would have made us an easy prey to our foes, in the event of an attack. Our determination to proceed evidently caused the Sheikh no little concern. He at once ascended a neighboring hill to reconnoitre, and on his return seemed unusually serious and medita¬ tive. The Bible tells us that “ Esau dwelt in Mount Seir; Esau is Edom.” Gen. 36 : 8. “I have given Mount Seir unto Esau for a possession.” Deut. 2 : 5. Curse upon curse has been denounced upon Edom, for not allowing Moses to lead the Hebrews through his country. Isaiah lays all the resources of his poetic fancy under contribution, to describe his future desola¬ tion. One almost feels a shudder in reading the pro¬ phetic wrath of his pages. For the Lord hath a sacri¬ fice in Bozra, and' a great slaughter in the land of Idumea (Edom). The streams thereof shall be turned into pitch, and the dust thereof into brimstone, and the land thereof shall become burning pitch. It shall not he quenched night nor day ; the smoke thereof shall go up forever : from generation to generation it shall lie ■waste ; none shall pass through it forever and ever.” Isa. 84. This curse-ridden land we were now approach¬ ing. It was a calm still evening, reminding one of the dread hush immediately preceding a storm. The mystic wrath-doom of prophecy that hung over the fated coun¬ try, on the spot acquired a threatening exposition from the experience of modern travellers. We felt the force of Stanley’s remarks most impressively : “ It (Petra) is literally paved with the good intentions of travellers, unfulfilled. There was Mount Hor, which Bobinson and Laborde in vain wished to ascend ; there the plain half¬ way, where Burckhardt was obliged to halt without reaching the top ; here the temple which Irby and Man- INCITEMENT TO ADVENTURE. 185 gles only saw through the telescope ; here the platform from which the Martineau party were unable to stir without an armed guard ; and, lastly, on the very plain of our encampment, at the entrance of the pass, travel¬ lers with our own dragoman were driven back last year without even a glimpse of the famous city.” And to crown the list of instructive perils, a few months before, the only party that had reached Petra this year, were attacked by the Bedouins, had one of their servants killed, and then fled, stopping neither day nor night until they reached Hebron. And now Sheikh Baschid, the bold chief of a powerful tribe, who, of all others, ought to feel safe and act with intrepid coolness, is ner¬ vous with fear and apprehension, and climbs on moun¬ tain-tops to see whether Edom is not already lurking around our tents ! There is a strange charm in adventure, which some¬ times transforms the veriest coward into a hero. “ For, if a path he dangerous known, The danger's self is lure alone." It seems singular that any one should feel at ease when he approaches a place so pregnant with dread and dan¬ ger ; and yet if Petra were a peaceful pastoral village, it is doubtful whether travellers w’ould feel half the eager¬ ness to visit the famous city. Our party seemed cheer¬ ful as usual, without the least sign of fear : I doubt whether any, but the Sheikh perhaps, lost a wink of sleep, for which, however, we w^ere more indebted to our camels than our prowess. Stephens says : “A man who rides all day upon a dromedary must sleep, come what may even the much-dreaded savages of Petra cannot drive rest from his pillow. Dogs may howl around the tent, 16 186 WARLIKE PREPARATIONS. hyenas steal about in search of dead men’s hones, the storm may threaten to roll up your tabernacle into a scroll^ and in spite of all sleep brings a peaceful insensi¬ bility to all, save the pestering, pinching fleas. A more formidable enemy to sleep is this contemptible vermin than all the robbers and the elements combined. April 2d. — The next morning we started at o’clock, with fifteen camels, and as many Arabs as were not needed to protect the caravan left back. These with the remain¬ ing camels and tents, encamped toward the foot of the mountain, and we threaded up its winding ravines and gorges. Our whole stock of swords and fire-arms was displayed with martial pride. He that had two weapons gave one to him that had none. I had Ahmed’s two five- barrelled revolvers stuck in my girdle, unloaded ; for the great object was to present a formidable appearance. And these Bedouins have a superstitious dread of re¬ volvers. All they know about them they get through far-fetched exaggerated stories. It was told to me, (I cannot vouch for its truth,) that some have an idea that if you once pull the trigger of a revolver the firing will continue while there is a living Arab within reach. Baschid sent a scouting-party of three Arabs ahead, whose wild, half-naked forms would sometimes suddenly turn up on some distant mountain-top, on a look-out for the foe. The ascent became very steep and rough, like a tortuous mountain-pass up which the toiling line of camels clambered and scraped with slow and weary step, some high above the others. We passed along the foot of Mount Hor, crowned with a small white chapel, over the supposed remains of Aaron. This is one of the few spots of Mosaic memory that can be identified with con¬ siderable certainty. The base where we stood was on a A DANGEEOUS NEIGHBORHOOD. 187 mountain, and far above this rose the round, double-topped Hor. Here, around these broad, sloping mountain-sides, faintly green with a sprinkling of herbage, the congre¬ gation was encamped. Moses took Aaron and Eleazer his son and brought them upon Mount Hor in the^sight of all the congregation. ‘‘And Moses stripped Aaron of his garments, and put them upon Eleazer his son ; and Aaron died there in the top of the mount.” Hum. 20 : 28. Here, for the first time for weeks, we met with a beau¬ tiful carpet of grass. The beds of small valleys seemed like meadows in spring, with occasional flowerets. In our haste to get into the rock-city we deferred ascending Mount Hor until the following day, which alas ! resulted as procrastination too often does. The Sheikh became more nervous as we approached Petra. Now' climbing a mountain wdth spy-glass in hand to reconnoitre, then mounting a horse, which Mr. McD - of Baltimore had brought from Suez, and scouting along our path. At one time we discovered him on a hill-top, his elbows propped on his knees and resting his face in his hands, the picture of half-oblivious meditative melancholy. Large rock- chambers were already appearing along the outskirts of Petra ; and w'e were on tip-toe for a startling reception from its pretended owners, when the solitary figure of a swarthy Bedouin appeared on an eminence to the right of our path. He was armed with a gun, and eyed us with suspicious silence. The Sheikh saluted him and vainly asked him a few questions. He sat scarcely half a mile from the city, and must have been a sentinel to herald the approach of the stranger. We took up our quarters, if such it may be called, on a grassy terrace in the northern part of the valley, strewn with ruins and half-buried foundations of Petra. To 188 ANCIENT THEATRE OF PETRA. make the best possible use of our time before the Bedou¬ ins would come on us, we at once sauntered into the heart of the city. On the east and west, perpendicular rocks bound the valley, dressed and hewn off like artificial walls. These are full of doors leading into chambers of various dimensions, some near the top giving them the appearance of massive squares of many-storied buildings. All these are supposed to be the tombs of the former inhabitants, of which several thousand are found in dif¬ ferent parts of the city. Some are approached by nar¬ row paths hewn out of the rock, others have no longer any way of access. A theatre hewn out of the rocks, witb thirty-three rows of seats, rising one above the other in a semicircle, is still in a perfect state of preservation. Above the seats, a row of small chambers looks .down upon the scene below. The number of spectators it might contain has been variously estimated between three and four thousand, and perhaps as many more of the silent dead looked down on these frivolous spectacles of earth from the graves hanging over them. The rocks skirting the opposite side of the valley likewise abound in this singular mixture of abodes for the living and the dead, — monuments serious and frivolous, buildings cut out of the solid rocks with many carved columns. At the southern end the two mountains approach, where there is a large temple. Six Corinthian columns grace its majes¬ tic front, of which one has fallen over. -Within is a large plain square chamber, and several smaller ones. The walls and ceiling are ^wrought out with great precision. The front shows nothing of the grey mossy color of age, but looks as fresh and newly-chiselled as if it had been finished but the day before. This may be partly owing to an overhanging rock which shelters it. ARCHITECTURAL REMAINS OF PETRA. 189 To carve even a toy-house out of one piece of stone requires considerable ingenuity; but here are temples, with pillars, porticoes, and numerous architectural deco¬ rations; dwellings and tombs, tier rising above tier, with rooms, cornices, and columns, excavated from one rock, all one piece, this day as they were, perhaps, when Jacob and Esau were little boys — a sight without a parallel. The rocks here, however, are mostly sand¬ stone, in which excavations are not so diflScult. A va¬ riety of colors blend over the surface — dark-crimson, blue, yellow and purple, flood and streak their rays athwart these bold fronts with marvellous effect. Opposite the large temple is the mouth of the “Sik,” the only remaining clearly defined street of Petra. With a few of our Arab attendants we started out to explore it. Remains of a conduit are found along the side, and fragments of its old pavement, like that of the Appian Way. A small stream of water ran through the middle, sometimes spreading over nearly the whole, where we had to pick our path over stepping-stones. The water originally passed through the conduit and pipes, which are still here in ruins. The average width of the street may have been from ten to twelve feet. On both sides the rocks rose perpendicularly to the height of from one to three hundred feet. At some places ledges overlapped and approached, excluding the light, and suggestive of any but pleasant thoughts when standing under them. Shrubs of oleander and the caper-plant grew here and there out of the rocks. After we had penetrated into this crooked, frowning gorge, our guides deserted us, and hanging on to the rear of the party, raised false alarms by shouting ‘‘ El- Arab, El- Arab ! ” Unwilling to pro¬ ceed by ourselves, we felt compelled to return. But 190 ETYMON OF THE WORD PETRA. afterward we made a second attempt, and reached an arch, sprung over it at the extreme end, more than a mile from where we had started. Some Arabs say this stream was brought from the rock by Moses ; and there¬ fore this sinuous street, resembling a long rent or cleft of the rocks, is called Wady Mousa. The stream runs northward to where the valley widens. Most of the ancient dwellings must have been through the bed of this valley, still strewn with ruins. The ‘‘ Sik ” or chasm- street was the principal entrance into the ancient city. It is supposed that the extensive traffic from India was carried on through here. The name of Petra, the Greek word for Rock, from its peculiar rocky position, is not found in the Bible ; but Selah, the Hebrew word for the same, does occur. As the Old Testament language was Hebrew, it is natural that it should be called by a Hebrew name during that period. Accordingly, we read that Amaziah ‘‘ slew of Edom in the valley of salt ten thousand, and took Selah by war.” 2 Kings 14 : 7. And Isaiah, al¬ luding to the tribute of sheep formerly given to Israel, says : “ Send ye the lamb to the ruler of the land, from Selah to the wilderness, unto the mount of the daughter of Zion.” Isaiah 16 : 1. Possibly, it may have been a prosperous city during the flourishing period of Edom, or even, for aught we know, its capital. It is probable that the numerous dukes and kings of Edom lived and reigned here. Later it became the capital of Arabia Petraea, a great emporium of traffic, and abounding in wealth. Some of its present remains seem to date from the time when it was a Roman province. Anciently, it was three or four miles in circumference. Then it declined, was j PROPHECIES CONCERNING EDOM. 191 lost to the civilized world for many centuries, until re¬ discovered by Burckhardt in 1812. While the rock-streets of this once proud city remain, Edom has long ago received the full measure of its pre¬ dicted ruin. The Hebrew, whom he drove from his borders, though scattered among all nations, is known the world over as an Israelite. Wild, robbing Ishmael to this day retains his predatory habits, and roams over ‘‘the wilderness” whither Hagar brought him; but Edom has been so entirely destroyed, that not a trace of his former existence can be found. Who now can find an Edomite ? Their country is held by others, and their tribe has become extinct. While looking at these mar¬ vellous streets and dwellings, some high in the air, a few eagles were soaring over the city, which possibly may have had their nests among the rocks, vividly recalling a prophecy concerning Edom. “ Thy terribleness hath deceived thee, and the pride of thy heart ; 0 thou that dwellest in the clefts of the rock, that boldest the height of the hill : though thou shouldest make thy nest as high as the eagle, I will bring thee down from thence, saith the Lord.” Jer. 49 : 16. One feels a mingled sense of admiration and sadness in the presence of these ram¬ parts of nature. What a strong city thus to be deserted and forgotten for a thousand years ! David knew of its strength. “Who will bring me into the strong city? who will lead me into Edom ? ” Psalm 108 : 10. With one view, you take in the dwellings of the living and the dead, where they worshipped and where they slept their last sleep. The shouting applause of the theatre, rung up to the sepulchral homes of their dead friends ; and these again were borne there after them, and now their death-chambers and their dust are, like their names, un- 192 A BED ON THE HILLSIDE. known. Returning through the deep street, the wind sighed a pensive requiem through ‘‘juniper” and olean¬ der hushes over the dead city, deserted even by its own dead. When we returned to our small tent, an English party of seventeen just entered the city. They had been seventeen days coming from Akaba over Nakel ; we came in four. So much we saved by meeting our Sheikh, Abou Raschid, at Akaba. During our explorations, the dragomen had spread their tables on blocks of stone, •which soon collected hungry groups around them. Camels create appetite as well as sleep, and are capital promoters of digestion. Reclining on the grass, we chatted till a late hour over the causes and remedy of Sabbath dese¬ cration in England. I am not given to star-gazing, hut in the East one’s eyes invariably turn to the shining heavens as he reclines on the earth, especially where the only lookout you have from the rocks is toward heaven. And what a thought that these old familiar friends of mine, Orion and the Dipper, have nightly looked down on Petra, when these temples, tombs, and theatre, were teeming with a living population ! But where shall we sleep ? Each sought for the most restful spot on the sloping hill-side. 1 spread my com¬ fort and rug on the damp ground, at the foot of a high wall, with a coat for a pillow, and two large stones on the lower side to prevent my rolling down the hill ; then put on all the coats I had, rolled myself in my cloak, covered the head and face that “ the moon should not smite me by night,” put my weary head on the hard pil¬ low, with two revolvers under it, and committed myself into the hands of the All-keeping Father. Perhaps I was slightly nervous ; the damp ground and hard bed for it. E D- D E I R. 193 4 once banished sleep. For hours I vainly wooed ‘Hired nature’s sweet restorer.” A few rock-ridden wakers kept me company. The rest were rolled up in blankets, in¬ visible as mummies, vieing with the camels in deep, heavy snores and groans. The ground was strewn promis¬ cuously with man and beast, which presented a singular scene in the pale light of the moon. A few short, dreamy naps after midnight was all the rest I got. Hard beds are conducive to early rising. Great was the croaking, as one blanket after the other unrolled its sore contents , at early dawn ; here a black visage, and there a white, crawled from their chrysalis beds. At an early hour we were already on our way to Ed- Deir, “ the Convent,” supposed by some to have been a Christian Church. We passed to the northern side of the valley, and commenced ascending through a steep gorge. Suddenly I felt a strange sensation in the head, and quickly turned aside from a precipice to lean against a rock. The damp night, bad sleep, and excitement, had brought on a fainting spell. Mr. M - and the ladies took me back to the tent and applied efficient restora¬ tives. The rest proceeded up a rough path, over a stair¬ case hewn out of the rock, and found Ed-Deir in a soli¬ tary mountain nook, with crosses carved on its walls, and ruins strewn around it. On their return we made immediate preparation to leave, already congratulating ourselves for having escaped the rapacious Petra Bedouins. The camels were saddled, and kneeling to receive us, when suddenly a noise on a ridge of the adjoining hill revealed our dreaded foe. They live some distance off, with their flocks and tents, and beyond doubt were brought on us by the sullen sen¬ tinel of yesterday. A line of some twenty athletic Arabs, 17 N 194 UNWELCOME VISITORS. blacker than their usual color, wild and ragged as nature and the desert could make them, with long guns, de¬ scended the hill with rapid tread, and approached us. A few muttered a cold Salaam, but peace-wishing was not their business then. Dr. C - distributed hands- full of tobacco to provoke, if possible, a friendly feeling. Raschid sat on the ground, with this robbing brood around him, who at once commenced to clamor for tribute, as . they called it. We were willing to give them the usual present of five dollars apiece. This stirred them into a tumult of passion and violent vociferations. All screamed, grinned, and gesticulated at the Sheikh, who sat there motionless as a statue. Apparently calm and fearless, he occasionally flung a reply at them, which, after all, showed the lion in him. The scene of raving confusion was terrific. I had passed through the haunted regions of Italy, and looked on many a robber’s face, but never have I seen such a cut-throat looking set of brigands as these. While some were giving vent to their savage oratory, others were leaning on their guns around them, with a fiendish scowl. In the midst of the storm, I stood at a short distance, studying their physiognomies, and fain wished myself an artist, to take a ^sketch of the whole scene. At length they came to terms, and the several dragomen paid for their parties. But scarcely had they received it before they demanded more. Un¬ fortunately their chief, the Sheikh of Petra, was not pre¬ sent. The stormy quarrel raged higher than before. Raschid was the very picture of fearless composure. Whether he was a hero, or simply acted him, I do not know ; but his whole mien seemed to say ; “ You touch me, if you dare.” According to Bedouin rules, he and his tribe would have avenged the shedding of our blood, EOBBERS BAFELED. 195 if possible. But why trouble himself about the extortion of the Petra Arabs ? He would lose nothing by it, as long as they did not touch our persons. But Ahmed, having to furnish all our bucksheesh, flew into a violent rage at the second demand. He wildly dashed into the heart of the mob, flung his burnouse and fez (cap) on the back of his head, deflantly hurling threats and exe¬ crations at the plunderers, with most vehement gestures. In passionate, wrathful expression, his face yielded little to the most savage countenance there. He told them we had paid them what they demanded, and more than they had a right to claim ; and now they wickedly pressed this second demand ! Then pointing to us, he cried out ; ‘‘ There they are, kill them if you dare. The Pasha of Egypt is their friend ; he will see to it that their blood be avenged to the last drop.” Some reached for their guns, others flew around Ahmed as if ready to blow his brains out. His voice was lost amid their hideous screams. It was an Arab mob of the fiercest kind. A few words from Baschid calmed the tempest, and they were paid the second time. We at once mounted the camels and started. But it was too rare a chance to let us go yet. Scarcely had we gone fifty yards until they marched before us, and, with presented guns, blocked up the path, warning us not to proceed a step, or they would fire. They seized the halters, and attempted to turn the camels hack. The danger was that some of our men might crack away at them in the excitement, which would have been the signal for a general slaughter. One of the dragomen threw down a few pieces of silver, then gave orders to advance at all hazards. As we urged the camels on, their columns gave way, and they allowed us to pass without firing a shot ; for which, under Provi- 196 ASSOCIATIONS OF MOUNT HOR. dence, we may thank this little flourish of pluck, and especially the other party, whose larger number pro¬ mised a greater amount of spoils, which lured them away from us. At Jerusalem the second party gave us a history of their fleecing ordeal. Soon after we had left, new ar¬ rivals increased the number of Petra Bedouins to 150. They pressed their exorbitant demands with the usual amount of noise, at one time blockading their cooking- tent and table to starve them to terms. One of the Be¬ douins seized a short sword, and drew the edge over Lord D - ’s throat. After enduring their turbulent taunts and threats of violence for a while, they escaped by paying between seventeen and eighteen dollars apiece, nearly three hundred dollars in all. Our altercation with the Arabs robbed us of a few precious hours we had intended to devote to Mount Hor. Again we passed along its base, in sight of Aaron’s tomb, and begged Raschid to give us but a short time to ascend to the top while the rest proceeded ; but all to no purpose. He was afraid night and the greedy Arabs we had just left would overtake us before we could reach the tents. It was a sore trial to be forced away from so interesting a spot, within one hour’s climbing, when we could not hope ever to visit it hereafter. For there is scarcely a spot in all this wilderness, so clearly identifled with its Scripture narrative as this mount. There is no doubt, whatever, that here “ the Lord spake unto Moses and Aaron in Mount Hor, by the coast of the land of Edom, saying ; Aaron shall be gathered unto his people, for he shall not enter into the land which I have given unto the children of Israel, because ye rebelled ngainst my word at the water of Meribah.” Num. 20 : 23-24. THE GRAVE OF AARON. 197 The mount is somewhat conically shaped, rising out of other mountains, and lifting its double top far above its fellows. On one of these is a little stone building, — a Wely, or tomb and sanctuary, such as Mohammedans build over the graves of their saints. You see nothing within but the usual marks of Mohammedan devotion — ragged shawls, ostrich eggs,, and a few beads. But under it, in a cave, is the supposed grave of Aaron. Moses took his brother Aaron, who had been his spokes¬ man to the people, ‘‘ up into Mount Hor in the sight of all the congregation [scattered over the rising hill-sides around its base]. And Moses stripped Aaron of his garments, and put them upon Eleazer his son ; and Aaron died there in the top of the mount.” Num. 20 : 27-28. Out in the Arabah, down toward the Red Sea, and from remote wadys of the wilderness, you see the grave of Aaron lifted toward heaven from this double mountain top, like the uplifted hands of the interceding high-priest at the altar. From its summit, you can look over into “the land of Uz,” the home of Job. This grave of the first high-priest of the Jews has become a holy shrine to people of every tribe and tongue. Even the sons of Ishmael — Bedouins and Mo¬ hammedans — when they get but a passing, distant glimpse of Wely Nebun Aurun on the summit of Mount Hor, pause on tkair journey to sacrifice an animal, whose blood they cover with a heap of stones. These stone heaps the traveller finds around the mountain, as well as at the distance of a day’s journey. The sons of Abra¬ ham here call upon the God of their fathers, as they lie prostrate around one of the holiest Jewish shrines, out¬ side of Jerusalem. Most Christian travellers must con¬ tent themselves with a distant view of the spot, as we 17* 198 aLOOMY APPREHENSIONS. did, on account of the fiend-like wickedness of the Petra Bedouins. On our return, we had to clamber over the same rugged mountain pass. There is much more pasturage on the mountains of Seir and around Petra, than further south. Thinly scattered grass is found in the mountain- streams and on the elevated plains. The mountain on the opposite side of the Arahah looks totally bald. When Moses w^anted to pass through Edom here, he promised not to “ pass through the fields or through the vineyards ” (Num. 20), indicating a tolerable state of cultivation in Edom then. The steep climbing slipped the saddle from the camel’s hump, which sometimes threw itself on its knees to get me off. This brought on my previ¬ ously weak nerves, and when we reached the encamp¬ ment I was scarcely able to walk into the tent. Often our weak nerves are more prolific in tears than a sorrow¬ ing heart. I was going to say, for once my heart for¬ sook me, but I will be nearer the truth when I say that my nerves forsook me. It was a dreadful fate to break down in this curse-blighted region, haunted by maraud¬ ing Arabs. A week before we had stood by the dreary grave of an ill-fated friend. Will not travelling aggra¬ vate my attack and make it fatal ? And then to be covered over by a few comrades, and left alone, even dead, in this most lonely place ! It threw me into a melting mood for a little while. Then came Mrs. S - - with her cordials and kind words, and my strength re¬ vived. The next morning I awoke a sound man, firmly believing that, by the blessing of God, I would live to reach the Land of Promise. A few hours brought us back into the large rolling plain, or Arahah. Our Be¬ douins shot a gazelle, which furnished a new dainty for ARAB EQUALITY. 199 our table. The taste was somewhat like venison. Ras- chid got on his old backsheesh hobby again. Nothing less than ten dollars for each party would do, but nothing came. The younger Raschid, the Sheikh’s brother, was a mere appendage, in a double sense. His boarding and riding were distributed among the whole caravan. As he had nothing of his own to eat, he usually found his way to one of the cooks’ tents, whenever simmering pans and grateful odors invited. He had no camel, and rode on hip or hump, saddle or no saddle, wherever he could find room. Now he was perched on the bare, bony hump of a lean, half-famished beast. Then he sat on the back slope of that elevation behind another rider. At one time he indulged in a sound sleep, stretched, or rather crouched, on the declivity between the hump and tail, behind a fellow Bedouin. How a man can fall asleep on such a rocking hillside without falling off, I cannot divine. There was no perceptible difference be¬ tween the Sheikh and his servants or slaves. They wore the same kind of clothing and ate the same kind of food, and slept on Mother Earth’s common bed, with the same celestial roof over them. April 5th. — Heretofore, we always rested on the Sab¬ bath, save the few miles we travelled away from Akaba. But since four parties had been merged into one, our Sab¬ bath-keeping resolutions were sometimes outvoted. We w'ould need every day to reach Jerusalem by Good Friday, and Raschid still had the fear of the Petra Bedouins be¬ fore his eyes. He seemed pretty certain that they would pursue us, and a single day’s delay might throw us into their greedy clutches again. And then the poor Sheikh had no Sabbath scruples ; all days were alike to him. From Ml that I could see, he and his men were conscious 200 EFFECTS OF THE SIROCCO. of no higher destiny than their camels. The god in ■whom they seemed to believe, they triflingly appealed to in vulgar profanity, but not in adoring worship. Some of us read the Bible on the camels, but their jolting gait is not favorable to such acts of devotion. We encamped early, when one of the party read the Episcopal service for the day in his tent, w^hich seemed very appropriate for our circumstances. The sirocco blew yesterday and to-day, filling the air with a hot, enervating breeze. It always inspires one with languor and prostrating weariness. No amount of nutriment, resolution, and determination is proof against it. The hot wind wilts and destroys the grass in a short time. The wind passeth over it, and it is gone.” Psalm 103 : 16. Our Bedouins used the dry grass-bushes of the Desert for fuel, and in Palestine they burn grass to this day. Some kinds are dry even while growing, so that they burn it immediately, or pull it up in the evening to use next day. “ Wherefore if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, 0 ye of little faith ? ” Matt. 6 : 30. In the afternoon we crossed several ^adys, or dry water-courses, and then encamped about three miles from the foot of Mount Safeh. This is the Desert of Zin, where was Kadesh of the Old Testament. Here the angel of the Lord found Hagar, the mother of Ish- mael, by a fountain of water in the wilderness,” whither she had wandered after fleeing from the face of Sarah. Gen. 16 : 7, 14. Here the Hebrews were encamped when the spies returned from Hebron and Eshcol, bring¬ ing rich fruits with them, and reports of tall and mighty giants. “ And all the congregation lifted up their voice REVOLT OF THE ISRAELITES. 201 and cried; and the people wept that night.” Num. 13 and 14. I found the distance from here to Hebron twenty- four hours, so that the spies had to hear their fruit about fifty miles. Here the people ‘‘said one to another, let us make a captain, and let us return into Egypt.” They were on the point of revolt, threatening to stone Joshua and Caleb ; and when God threatened to destroy them, Moses interceded in their behalf. The Israelites had tarried in Zin at different times, while they moved up and down the Arabah, during their long wanderings. They were near the border of Canaan for at least thirty-eight years, and yet not allowed to enter. Toward the end of their journey Miriam, the sister of Moses, died, and was buried here. Hum. 20 : 1. Then again they murmured because they had no water, and Moses brought water from the rock, which he smote with his rod. From here they turned southward again, and passed around Edom to the other side of the Jordan. The next day we crossed the rugged pass of Safeh. All dismounted except the ladies. The ascent was fear¬ fully steep and rugged. A squall of rain swept over the top, which is crowned with the crumbling walls of a few ancient buildings. Up here to this “ top of the moun¬ tain ” the rebellious Israelites clambered, against the ex¬ press command of Moses, obstinately determined to pro¬ ceed into the Land of Promise, in spite of their leader. Num. 14 : 40-45. We left the Shittah, or wild accacia, behind us. It is very rarely found in Palestine, only in the wilderness of Sinai, where its hard, thorny wood was needed to build the Altar of the Law-covenant. At Akaba already we entered the dominion of David and Solomon. From this hill-top we got the first view of the land of Judah. 202 ANCIENT WELLS. CHAPTER IX. /rnm ®ms{iBlin tn SniisaUm* April ^th. — Soon after we started this morning, we passed through a small dell, where two Arabs were ploughing, each with a camel. This was the beginning of Beersheha. In the afternoon we came to two large, deep wells. The mouth of each was walled around with square, well-dressed blocks of grey stone, making a rim of two or three feet high. Along the inner edges deep grooves had been worn out by the friction of the ropes with which the water was di;awn up. Stone ‘‘ watering- troughs ” were placed around them. According to Rob¬ inson, the larger one is twelve and a half feet in diame¬ ter, and forty-four and a half feet deep to the surface of the water ; sixteen feet of which, at the bottom, is exca¬ vated in the solid rock. The other well is nearly of the sam5 size. The water in both is pure and sweet. These wells are evidently very old. Walled up with such solid masonry, why might they not date from patri¬ archal times ? Abraham and Abimelech made a solemn covenant, in proof that he had digged a well. ‘‘ And, therefore, he called that place Beersheha^ or well of the oath, because there they sware both of them.” Gen. 26 : 33. This wide plain, with its wells and scanty grass, was the vestibule to Palestine, the neutral ground be¬ tween the Desert and Canaan ; and on this account well JL VALUE OF WELLS IN ARABIA. 203 suited for the pastoral tribes of Abraham and Isaac. Abraham sent Hagar to wander in this “ wilderness of Beersbeba,” where God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water,” that Isbmael might drink. Then Abra¬ ham dwelt in Beersheba himself; and when Isaac’s ser¬ vants had dug a well, and found water, he called it Sheba,” and the name of the city, Beersheba — Beer being the Arabic and Hebrew for well. Few things give one greater pleasure, in travelling through the East, than its simple habits and picturesque scenes which carry him back to patriarchal times. And nowhere have these primitive habits been retained in greater purity than among the Bedouins of Arabia. Here, where the scarcity of sweet water, the natural indolence of the Bedouins, and their want of mechanical implements, make a well such a valuable possession, the old quarrels around wells are, to this day, natural and frequent. Where water is so scarce, the most serious damage an enemy can inflict is to cover up a well. Abraham and Abimelech strove about a well. When the Philistines became envious of Isaac, they destroyed the wells which his father had digged, and ‘‘ filled them with earth.” Then Isaac digged them again, and called them by the names Abraham had given them. He digged other wells, ‘‘and the head men of Gerar did strive with Isaac’s herdmen, saying. The water is ours.” Gen. 26. These wells were the centres and occasion of the strife and contention of those shepherd patriarchs, and con¬ tinue to be such among the Bedouins to this day. Some¬ times several hostile tribes are dependent on the same well for their water. Then they get to wrangling, and the weaker, like Jethro’s daughters, are driven away, unless some gallant Moses will come to their rescue. 204 THE WELLS OF SCRIPTURE. They were the natural halting-places for caravans, and wayfaring travellers. Moses gathered the people around a well in Moah. Num. 21 : 16. Sometimes an Arab flees his tribe to escape some impending evil, and his children, or children’s children, return, and meet their kinsfolk around some well, as Jacob did, starting from this Beor- sheba. Gen. 28 : 10. The scene of Abraham’s servant and Bebekah meeting at the well, and before her father, is repeated in all its details to the present day. Gen. 24. The damsel watering his camels and taking him home, the ungirding of camels, and the water to wash the stranger’s feet, seem most perfectly natural in the life of the modern Bedouins. Often wells became the scene of a tenderer passion. For at a well Eliezer found Bebekah for Isaac ; at a well Jacob found his Bachel ; at a well Moses found his Zipporah. And at a well, too, the woman of Samaria found her Saviour. What wells were then, they are still. Shepherd damsels still lead their flocks of sheep and goats to these watering- troughs ; men bring their camels, and make them kneel around wells, and ungird them as did Eliezer ; women come with their pitchers, and talk to those “ who sit by the well ; ” the traveller looks toward it for a resting- place for the night ; if marauding Bedouins are about, his dragoman hurries him ofi* to a less frequented spot. Thus the venerable landmarks and customs of patriarchal times remain as the instructive monuments of the remote past. To this day, “ the wells of Beersheba, in the wide frontier valley of Palestine, are indisputable witnesses of the life of Abraham.” Musing as our camels jogged wearily over the rough wilderness of Beersheba, the wild Arabs around seemed graphic representatives of the ancient exiles who sought A FURIOUS TEMPEST. 205 refuge down here. Elijah the Tishhite, horn In the wild forest of Gilead, seems by nature a perfect specimen of a Bedouin. His rough camel’s hair mantle, “girt with a girdle of leather about his loins ; ” his fleetness of foot, wdth which, “ when the hand of the Lord was upon him,” he outran the chariot of Ahab ; his sudden, almost magi¬ cal and spectral appearances and vanishings ; his wild ■wandering through Beersheba and the wilderness, to the Mount of God, are most striking Bedouin characteristics, prophet and man of God though he was. The top ridges of the mountains of Moab, green with herbage, now loomed up across the valley of Salt, in which is the Dead Sea. The bed of the valley was hid by intervening hills. Cold squalls of rain brought all our garments and umbrellas into requisition. Camels hate a head wind, whether it be a sirocco or rain-storm. They turn the head away from the wind in spite of you. And so we had to move partly in a circle and allow the storm to invert our umbrellas, and the rain to saturate our garments. The tempest beat so violently upon camel and rider that both were confused, and the caravan scat¬ tered hither and thither. We begged for tents to shield us, but how erect a tent during such a storm ? All hands got vigorously to work, and soon we cast our dripping cloaks aside and listened to the rain pattering on the canvas stretched- over us. At one time the ground was flooded with a carpet of colors, like a broad rainbow belt around the earth. When it ceased raining, one of the party shot a large white bird, either a stork or crane, of which a number were flying round the camp ; swallows, too, for the first time chattered merrily around us. Per- ha,ps they were on their spring return northward, to a warmer clime. “ Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth 18 206 SUDDEN CHANGES OF WEATHER. her appointed times ; and the turtle, and the crane, and the swallow, observe the time of their coming, but my people know not the judgment of the Lord.” Jer. 8 : 7. In some places we found the nights exceedingly genial and pleasant, neither cold nor hot, a soothing, balmy temperature, refreshing to body and spirit. At Mount Sinai, Akaba, and other places, the temperature of day and night changed with violent abruptness. The hot days unfit one to endure the cold nights. Jacob com¬ plains to Laban ; ^‘in the day the drought (heat) con¬ sumed me and the frost by night ; and my sleep departed from my eyes.” Gen. 31 : 40. One will soon learn here by real experience how it is possible to be consumed by heat and cold at the same place within twenty-four hours. Where people live in tents, or in the open air, the biting cold is still less tolerable. April Sth. — ‘‘ Sweet are the uses of adversity.” Tribu¬ lation is often a wholesome though not always a fascina¬ ting exercise, and comfort may be reached through a night of discomfort. A pilgrimage through the desert is chiefly valuable for the trials through which a person reaches the Land of Promise. The Christian pilgrim ‘‘through much tribulation enters into the Kingdom ^of God,” and so earth’s traveller enters Canaan from the side of the Wilderness. A discipline though it be, it is a fit prepa¬ ration for the enjoyment of a “better country.” It is an instructive lesson, if well learnt, once in a man’s life¬ time, to get where naught but a few stunted tufts of grass and beasts of prey are seen for weeks ; where all nature is stripped of trees and verdure ; where ravenous beasts of prey take the place of singing birds ; where with parched lips and fainting frame one is doomed to breast the thick hot air of the sirocco, and pant and pray for a BORDERS OF PALESTINE. 207 cup of cold water where no water is. And to be taken through it, not in a few hours hy the whirl of a railroad train, hut at the slow toilsome rate of fifteen miles a day, and on the see-saw swinging bump of a fatiguing, petu¬ lant, foul-habited beast of burden ; where the famishing camel wears out, like the garment of his rider ; wearily browsing his way along among dry hushes of crackling wooden grass, kneeling down a dozen times a day to tell his rider that he has no more strength to carry him fur¬ ther ; here indeed one is often tempted to be “ much dis¬ couraged because of the way,” and yet all is a healthy preparation to enter Canaan. First we get a glimpse of “the hill country of Judea,” then of “Carmel,” where Nabal, “who was churlish and evil in his doings,” and insulted David, kept his flocks. 1 Sam. 25. And then came the hills of “ Ziph ” and “ Maon,” where David hid himself from Saul. 1 Sam. 23. Palestine and the Desert melt imperceptibly into each other, like day and night in twilight. The night grad¬ ually vanishes, the dawn comes and hides the stars, and lo ! the sun peeps up from the east. But who can draw the line where night ceases and day begins? Trees dis¬ appear, but grass increases. We left the palm at Akaba and the Shittah or Burning Bush beyond the pass of Safeh. Yesterday the ground seemed greener with small grass, and patches of grain were here and there seen. A few swallows for the first time swept over the ground, and now and then a new bird would warble its sweet solitary song. A few blood-drops of the anemones, which' we had left at Petra, reappeared, and daisies modestly lifted their heads out of the grass. This faint prolonged approach of life and the receding of the desert, had an efiect indescribably soothing. Toward evening 208 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. the ground was literally covered with . the richest variety of grass, and flower-hues. At break of day this morning, a multitude of birds woke me with their early songs, so charmingly sweet that I scarcely knew whether it was a dream or a reality. The rain had left a sweet pure breath on the earth and grass, as it always does : “ Like rain upon the mown grass ; as showers that water the earth.” Psalm 72 : 6. The whole was like the refresh¬ ing reign of Messiah’s Kingdom. “ And he shall be as the light of the morning, When the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds ; As the tender grass springing out of the earth By clear shining after rain.^^ 2 Sam. 23 : 4. % t The profusion of flower-coloring, pale and dark-blue, pink, white and yellow, was most enchanting. Again we had a mountain to cross, among whose clifiy rocks our half- famished weary camels tremblingly threaded along. At one place the sloping path approached the edge of a steep ravine, and one of the poor beasts carrying two heavy chests slipped and reeled over, tumbling and crash¬ ing down from cliff to clifi* with loud pitiful groans. I little thought that the sorry animal would ever carry another burden ; but the chests being ungirded he rose to his feet ready to resume his task. This was hallowed ground. Abraham brought Isaac up here from Beersheba to offer him upon Moriah. Ever and anon I thought of “ who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah ; ” and of the Church coming up “ out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke.” Song of Sol. 3 : 6. In approaching different countries we had been repeat¬ edly threatened with Quarantine. Again the fearful news reached us from Hebron. But what is Quarantine ? V EASTERN QUARANTINE. 209 In the East travellers coming from a country suspected of having the plague, are locked up in a prison-like building, on the frontiers of the country they wish to enter, generally for five days, counting the days of arrival and departure, which really would only make three. Sick or well, you are bolted into these flea- infested cells, an object of dread to all that see you — fearful that your very touch, like the leper’s, may bring certain death. So-called doctors eye you, at a safe dis¬ tance, with learned care, and fill your cell with brim¬ stone vapor almost to suffocation ; while fearful loungers watch without, to steal a sight of one reeking with the plague incarnate. Such an ordeal would try a man’s patience under any circumstances. But as we stepped out of the wilderness into the grassy glens of Canaan, birds, flowers, and buoyant life, still increasing as we approached Jerusalem, the goal of our wanderings, our pilgrim enthusiasm was ill fitted to brook a delay which would keep us in such a gloomy prison, within one day from the Holy City, and that just long enough to miss the Easter Festival. The conflicting reports of the Arabs coming from Hebron did little to relieve our fears. We took a hasty luncheon, and then urged our beasts toward Hebron at a rapid pace. The grass grew among the numerous stones and bald rocks that covered the hill-surfi ces — excellent pasturage, where the flocks of Abraham used to graze. Arabs weeding the grain, others ploughing with oxen and riding on horseback^ gave a new feature to the scene. The lowing of herds, the occasional shout of an Arab shepherd, the hum of birds, bugs, and beasts, now followed tile silence of the Desert. One could see and/eeZ most really how 18* c 210 CAVE OF MACHPELAH. “ The little hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are clothed with flocks. The valleys also are covered over with corn (grain) : They shout for joy, they also sing.^^ Psalm 65 : 12-13. Up the terraced hill-sides rose luxuriant wheat-fields, and old sturdy olive-groves sloped down to their bases. We rode to the right, along the side of a hill; below us a charming upland-vale extended toward a recess in the valley ; and lo ! there the top of the minaret loomed up, which is over the dust of the Patriarchs in the field of Machpelah. Since leaving Suez we had seen neither village nor house, save the few huts at Akaha. Now from the top of the hill we had a complete view of the city, which the Arabs to this day call the city of ‘‘ the Friend of God.” James 2 : 23. The dark green wheat and paler olives, the bald grey rocks walling up the city, and the neat flat-roofed stone dwellings rising along the hill until they culminate in the large mosque over the cave of Machpelah, presented a scene never to be forgotten. We descended the hill, and encamped on a grassy graveyard north of the city. There was no Quarantine ; but as the buildings were near our tents, we paid them a voluntary visit. While the tents were pitched, we strolled into the city, past the large pool, still full of water, where David hung up the murderers of Ishbosheth the son of Saul. 2 Sam. 4 : 12. It was about 3 P. m., the ninth hour accord¬ ing to their reckoning, the hour of prayer. I noticed a number of persons on the flat house-tops, praying — a custom still prevalent in the East, as it was in the days of Peter. We proceeded through narrow muddy streets, greatly disappointed with the first impressions received MOHAMMEDAN EDUCATION. 211 at a distance. At the upper end of the city we ap¬ proached the door of the court around the Great Mosque, but were turned away, as none but Mohamme¬ dans are permitted to enter. One of the sentinels pointed to a hole in the wall near the door, through which ‘‘Infidels” might get a peep at Abraham’s grave; but nothing could be seen. We walked around the wall enclosing it, 50 or 60 feet high, 200 long, and 150 wide. In the centre of this is the mosque over the graves of the Patriarchs, the field of Machpelah, which Abraham bought for a burying-place. Gen. 23. When Jacob was about to breathe his last in Egypt, he blessed his sons, and charged them to bury him with his “ fathers, in the cave that is in the field of Machpelali;” “there they buried Abraham and Sarah his wife ; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife ; and there I buried Leah.” Gen. 49 : 31. And hither they brought him, across the Desert, 300 miles, with “ a very great company ” of mourners following. Solemn burials, and long, sad funeral trains must have thronged this God’s-acre in olden times. Jacob was embalmed, and therefore his mummy may still repose here, retaining his crisped form, features, and undecayed bones. Near the mosque are the principal bazaars of the city. They had just been closed, and the streets were almost impassably muddy from the recent rain. A loud noise of children coming from a cellar attracted our attention, which we found to be a Mohammedan school. The teacher stood at one end, and started them in repeating a passage from the Koran, and then kept them all bawl¬ ing away in concert until he thought they knew it. Thus they are taught isolated passages from their Sacred Book by rote, without being able to read a word This com- 212 HEBRON. prises the Mohammedan system of education, in all its branches. Hebron lies at the sloping base of two hills, separated by a narrow valley, forming a basin. The greater part is on the eastern side of it. The rocky hills rise high above the city, rich with pasture, grain, and large olive orchards. The city has about five thousand inhabitants, of which five hundred are Jews, the rest Mohammedans. When we returned to our tents, a crowd of curious idlers, men, women, and children, were inquisitively lounging about the doors, until a few soldiers drove them away. The graves around us were walled and plastered up to an edge, like a roof, and whitewashed — the same as the “ whited sepulchres ’’ to which our Saviour compares the hypocrisy of the scribes and Pharisees, which had a beautiful outside, ‘‘ but within are full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.” Matt. 23 : 27. Just be¬ fore the sun slid behind the hill, a soft light shone on Hebron ; the loud laugh and prattle of childhood sounded like coming from a European or American village. Late ' at night it was still dimly visible in the light of the waning moon. The whole seemed like a^ vision of long ages past, when Abraham first pitched his tent here, and ‘‘sat in the tent-door in the heat of the day,” and three men announced the impending destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah ; he interceded for Lot, his friend and kins¬ man, and then “ early in the morning ” he beheld the smoke of the doomed cities rise up “ as the smoke of a furnace.” Over these hills the sons of Jacob led their flocks, while the eyes and heart of the good old man fol¬ lowed, and chid their feuds. Here he received intelli¬ gence that his son Joseph was still living, and from here he started for the land of Egypt. Here David had his RETROSPECTIVE MEDITATIONS. 213 royal residence for seven years and a half, where, per¬ haps, he composed many of those Psalms through which myriads of believing hearts still pour out their penitence and praise. Meditating upon God’s merciful goodness, which had safely brought us thus far on our journey, and looking at the starry heavens, I could not hut think how David had done the same thing in this cheerful vale of Hebron : “ When I consider thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, The moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained ; What is man that Thou art mindful of him, And the son of man that Thou visitest him?'^ Ps. 8. Again and again I stood at the door of the tent. Light glimmered through a few windows, while the city slept quietly and sweetly over the silent remains of these “ holy men of old.” Time puts them so far from us, yet their eyes saw these heavens and hills, and faith still feels the holy power of their true and earnest lives. Such is Hebron, one of the most ancient cities of Palestine, the home and tomb of the Patriarchs. Gen. 13 : 18. The next morning the crowing of cocks and the buzz and hum of village life woke us with old familiar sounds. A crowd of Arabs collected around our quarters, raising the usual noisy row with the dragomen for bucksheesh. The little, old grey-bearded man who had faithfully piloted my “ship” over rough seas from Akaba to He¬ bron, was too modest to ask for a present. When I gave him his gift he put it into a bosom pocket, which all have, to carry presents and money in. Our Saviour alluded to this in Luke 6 : 38. “ Give and it shall be given unto you ; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, - and running over shall men give into your bosom.'' 214 PARTING WITH THE BEDOUINS. Here we had to part with Arabs and camels. Sheikh Raschid evidently wished for the everlasting hucksheesh, but he had sense enough not to press his futile claim too hard. He did us a good service where we had no one else to render it. Although he tried to slip the cable, if he did it to keep us out of danger, he deserves praise. We parted good friends. For a Bedouin he is an honor¬ able man, a dignified, unpolished gentleman, unschooled in the deceitful arts of civilized dissimulation, fresh from the hands of artless Nature. He was a most graphic specimen of a patriarchal chief. Cautious to avoid dan¬ ger, hut fearless and cool when it came ; his image has so stamped itself upon my mind that I seldom think of Abraham or Moses without thinking of Sheikh Raschid. My faithful Mahommed kissed my hand at parting, in¬ voking the peace and blessing of Allah on my further journey. Poor fellows ! now they return to their peaceful, contented homes in the wilderness. Much as they love money, no amount could buy them to dwell in more en¬ lightened regions. There they will live, and die, and he buried and forgotten. Right glad we were to part with our camels. They and their predecessors carried us as well as nature taught them how, but any journey is “ a hard road to travel ” if you must make it on a camel’s back. It is his nature so to he. Fleetness of foot he possesses in a remarkable degree. Give him rope and a good path, and he will stream over the desert like a ship before the storm ; but see to it that your joints be well-knit and your hold fast, or he will shake part or the whole from his back. David could smite all the iVmalekites at Ziklag save 400, who « .rode swift camels. 1 Sam. 30 : 17. The camel is one of those necessary evils to which some mortals must of TUB GRAPES OF ESHOOL. 215 necessity submit ; but that is a merciful provision of Na¬ ture which through long ages has confined the need of his services to countries where people have patience and spinal columns fit to endure them. After such a conveyance the most stumbling jade would be a luxury. In spite of the torturing Turkish saddles, which have the seat, back, and stirrups in the wrong shape and place, especially for legs that are w'here they ought to be, our horses tripped over the rough paths with marvellous ease and nimbleness. We rode north¬ ward between the walls of vineyards, through narrow lanes roughly paved, and up along “ the brook of Eshcol,” where the spies cut down their cluster of grapes. Num. 13 : 23. There is no stream of water here, as the name would seem to imply — a mere waterless dale being some¬ times translated brook in our English Bible, as the brook of Kedron and this one. The stony valley slopes and spreads up the hill, still abounding with luscious grapes. The thick vine-stems stand erect unsupported, like so many trees. I was told by a resident of Palestine, that he had seen grapes in the vale of Eshcol at least one inch in diameter, and some as large as a walnut. They are to this day the most luscious fruit of the vine anywhere to be found in Palestine. According to American or European notions of grapes, the “cluster” which the spies bore “ between two upon a staff,” seems unaccount¬ ably large ; but for the latitude of Hebron it is per¬ fectly natural. “ Pomegranates and figs,” which the spies brought from here, likewise abound to this day. Walls enclose the vineyards, made with the stones so profusely scattered over the surface. Each vineyard has a tower or small lodge for the keeper, like the Saviour’s house¬ holder in the Parable, “ which planted a vineyard and 216 THE OAK OF ABRAHAM. hedged it round about, and digged a wine-press in it, and built a tower.' ^ Matt. 21 : 33. During the vintage or grape-gatbering season, so many persons abide in the towers of tbe vineyards around Hebron, that the city is almost entirely deserted. After our horses bad climbed over several stone- hedges, we rode through a small field and dismounted under the famous oak of Abraham, which tradition re¬ gards as the only relic that marks the dwelling-place of the patriarch. ‘^Abraham removed his tent, and came and dwelt in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and built there an altar to the Lord,” where he after¬ ward also entertained th#» angels. Gen. 13 : 18. This terebinth or oak is, very large, its trunk being over twenty-two feet in circumference. Writers of 300 years ago already alluded to it ; but whether it was here in Abraham’s day is another question. Nor does it matter much, for I felt satisfied that one of those glens around me was the plain of Mamre. From Eshcol we proceeded toward Bethlehem and Jerusalem. We took our noon-day meal in the shadow of a khan, at Solomon’s pools. Here are three large basins, firmly walled up, varying from 400 to 580 feet in length, and from 25 to 50 feet deep. Stone steps lead down to the bottom, so that water can be got at any depth. Just then they were full of water. Twenty minutes below this, are the gardens of Solomon, supplied and fertilized from these pools, where trees and vege¬ tables are raised with tropical luxuriance. I believe it is generally admitted that Solomon had his country retreat here. ‘‘ I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kinds of fruits : I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth iJOLOMON’S GABDENS. 217 trees.” Eccle. 2 : 5-6. It is thought that he alludes to these gardens and pools deriving their water from a fountain, whose aqueducts can be sealed or shut up, in the Song of Solomon 4 : 12. ‘‘A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse, a spring shut up, a fountain sealed"' Josephus says : “ There was a certain place about fifty furlongs distant from Jerasalem (about seven miles), w’hich is called Etham ; very pleasant it is in fine gar¬ dens, and abounding in rivulets of water ; thither did he (Solomon) use to go out in the morning, sitting on high in his chariot.” From these pools, the water is carried through aqueducts to Bethlehem and Jerusalem. On one of the rocks on the hills around the gardens, Samson had his interview with the men of Judah. ‘‘ Then three thousand men of Judah went to the top of the rock Etam (Etham),” to consult with him for having stirred up the Philistines against them. Judges 15 : 11. Josephus also praises Solomon for having improved the roads around Jerusalem. He may then have had a chariot-road to his gardens, but no wise man would risk his life in a chariot over these roads now. The winter- rains have had all their own way on the hills of Judea, tearing up roads and strewing them with rocks and ruts, over which only horses and mules can pick their path with the utmost caution and care. Here and there a patch of wheat or barley was seen in a rocky dell ; the rest was naught but bleak, cold-looking hills, the earth having all been washed from the rocks. While Ahmed hastened to Jerusalem to engage lodg- ings, we turned to one side to pass through Bethlehem. The hills around it were green with wheat, — a pleasant picture of the industry of its inhabitants. As we ap¬ proached it, a half-grown fair-skinned Arab boy reclined 19 218 FIRST VIEW OF JERUSALEM. behind a wall near his small flock of goats, a pattern of ‘‘the Son of Jesse,” who was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. We entered the gate and rode through a narrow street to the convent built over the traditional site of our Saviour’s birth. It consists of a large building like a fortress or castle, on the southern brow of the hill. Leaving our horses in a small square in front of this building, we stooped through a low narrow door into an old church. In the absence of Ahmed we had no inter¬ preter, and therefore concluded to hasten toward Jerusa¬ lem, and leave Bethlehem for a future visit. Indeed, it was soon felt that we had no patience to enjoy any sight so near the Holy City.' We had to breast a violent storm, which kept the horses leaning toward the wind to avoid being blown out of the path. A half an hour beyond Bethlehem we reached an emi¬ nence where the walls of Jerusalem first came in view. The caravans of simple pilgrims simultaneously prostrate themselves on the earth in prayer, when they get the first view of the city. My first impulse of feeling would have driven me to the same devout posture, had 1 been alone. Fools that w’e are ! ashamed of others, we must stifle our earnest holy feelings to bide them. Call it superstition or anything else, so I felt, and may God forgive my hypocrisy ! The approach from this side is not imposing. Only p.%rt of the wall could be seen along the highest part of the city, and behind it the hill slopes down toward the Mount of Olives. A few minarets rose above the wall, but little else could be seen within it. Jerusalem, “ the joy of the whole earth ! ” how singular one feels when approaching it for the first time ! No one spoke a enter the holy city. 219 word as we slowly rode on our way. A long train of events from remote antiquity passed, like a vision, be¬ fore my spirit, and then the event for which all other events were made, rose vividly over all, like a star above the city. It was on the afternoon before Good Friday. The evening was approaching on which Christ suffered in Gethsemane, the night of His betrayal, in which He also instituted the Holy Supper. I thought of His cruci¬ fixion, when He was mocked and mangled for our sins ; then how' darkness settled on these hills and the rocky earth quaked when He had finished.” Now and then a mounted Arab met us coming out of the city, gracefully raising his hand in salutation. As one after the other muttered his Salaam Aleikum (Peace be with you) they seemed like heralds bidding us welcome to ‘‘ the Abode of Peace,” (which is the meaning of the word Jerusalem). We rode across the valley of Hinnom, entered by the Jaffa gate, whither Ahmed had sent a messenger to conduct us to our lodgings. The principal street was almost im¬ passable from the swarming throng of pilgrims. To avoid these we turned north through a crooked narrow alley, then down the Via Dolorosa (the Way of Sorrow^ where we found lodgings provided for us in the so-called hotel of Antonio — Somebody. It was quite an event for us to take up quarters in Jerusalem, thrilling enough to keep one in devout ecsta- cies for months, had not my garments been so thoroughly worn into rags. Whatever we may think of the clothes of the Hebrews not waxing old during the forty years wandering in the wilderness (Deut. 29 : 5), I can speak from literal and most ragged experience, that the shoes and other clothing of ordinary human beings do wear and tear with inconvenient rapidity, during a modern % 220 REPAIRING DAMAGES. and less protracted journey through the same country. I had started with an excellent new pair of shoes, made of uncolored leather, so as not to attract the sun. At Mount Sinai the monks half soled them, that is to say, bound pieces of dry skin to the soles with latchets ” or straps of the same material. The sharp, granite rocks of the sacred mountain, and a week’s journey to Akaba, brought my feet into a more forlorn condition than ever. Here I had the job repeated by a Turk, with no better success, and an equal cost of one dollar. As the Ishmaelites are not very fastidious in cleanli¬ ness, they are innocent of the art of washing linens. To meet the difficulty, the stiff-starched linens of civiliza¬ tion had to give place to red flannel sailor shirts, which needed washing only once or twice a month. Then our half-leathern trowsers did very well so far as the leather extended ; but beyond that they required daily inspection toward the last. For awhile, it was sufficient to attend to this mending duty once a day ; but at the end it be¬ came a serious question wFether it should not be done twice. It may sound irreverent, but let necessity an¬ swer for that; my first two or three hours in Jerusalem were spent in sewing up rents and rags^ plying the needle with the rapidity of an adept tailor. But the shoes were past recovery. It was toward the close of the latter-rain, when the daily showers had filled the streets with water and mud. The gutters in the middle of the narrow streets were half full of mire, and the rough, slippery pavements sloping toward them, made walking difficult with the best of shoes. It was no place to walk on worn-out skins. After a long search I found one man in all Jerusalem who could make anything above a Turkish slipper or morocco socks. But the next NEWS FROM HOME. 221 day was a holy day, and then followed Easter again, on which he would not ply a tool. Humble as I felt, I was hardly prepared to engage in the most impressively solemn service of my life in such unbecoming apparel. For the shoes could neither be blacked nor patched, and the mud splashes on the white leather indicated a degree of woe-begone austerity and self-denial, which few of the 15,000 pilgrims then in Jerusalem could boast of. The next thought was news from the Fatherland. At home one often longs to roam through foreign lands, and fancies what an earthly paradise he might find in other countries. And here a man cannot be five minutes within the walls of the most famous city in the world, before he rumages every banking-house and consul’s office for letters and newspapers. Even in Jerusalem he is tempted to regard “His home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.'^ Palestine has no post-office or mail arrangement of any kind. Letters directed to the care of some banker or consul are generally received, but few others. I had not heard from home for three long months, during which all my joyous expectations tvere bottled up for Jerusa¬ lem. I knew that my letters were inside the city walls, but where to find them was an intricate problem. Ahmed returned again and again from his ineffectual search. At length he hailed me at the dinner-table with a package, which he had found with the French Consul. How my American letters could have fallen into his hands, I can¬ not unravel ; but French Consul or American Consul, I had received letters from home, which for a while made me forget Jerusalem and all its hallowed attractions. 19* 222 OUR saviour’s sufferings. CHAPTER X. SnnsaUni. April lO^A, 1857. — Our first night in Jerusalem was the one in which our Saviour was betrayed ; the second day was that on which He was crucified. We commenced our exploring privileges with an act of worship in the English chapel on Mount Zion. Bishop Gobat preached a sermon on Luke 23 : 39-44, in which he portrayed with touching simplicity and fervor the nature of sin, and the intensity of Christ’s love, which prompted Him thus to suffer for our redemption. I had often heard the same truths, but never within the walls of Jerusalem. Over against yonder hill is the garden that heard Him groan, and witnessed the betrayer’s kiss. From this spot could have been heard the cry of the turbulent rab¬ ble : Crucify him, crucify him ! ” And over there is Calvary, where He hung, ‘‘pierced,” “forsaken,” His blood dripping from His wounds in heavy drops on the earth ; alone ! alone ! none helping or confessing Him ; no soothing whisper of sympathy or pity in that dark hour of trial, save the prayer of the penitent thief. Then the thought that I helped to pierce Him while He endured all this for me personally, though then I was not^ was overpowering. I tried to mingle my praising voice with the congregation, singing the familiar hymns : ‘‘Hark the voice of love and mercy,” and “When I CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 223 survey the wondrous cross ; ” but I was too near Cal¬ vary and the Cross for praise. I never felt the power of local association so irresistibly as here. Every object in the streets received its coloring from the great event of the day. The multitude of pilgrims thronging around the Holy Sepulchre, with their picturesque costumes, called to mind the crowd of Jewish pilgrims that were at Jerusalem at the Crucifixion. The Turkish soldiers at the gate of the city called up images of the Roman “soldiers” which nailed the Saviour to the Cross, and parted his garments. In the afternoom there was a service in the English chapel, where three Jewish con¬ verts were baptized. “ Beginning at Jerusalem,” the Saviour commanded just before He took His final depart¬ ure from it. Toward evening we went to the church of the Holy Sepulchre — a very large building, erected over the sup¬ posed site of Christ’s crucifixion and burial. A stairway from the main street leads one down into a court in front of the church. On ordinary days this was crowded with persons selling trinkets carved out of shells and wood from sacred places. Many persons in and around Jeru¬ salem gain a living by thus selling their year’s labor to the pilgrims. The pavement was covered with their merchandise, and their noisy traflSc reminded me of “ them that bought and sold,” whom the Saviour drove out of the Temple, because they made his “ Father’s house a house of merchandise.” Even the tables of the money-changers are here, where a sort of brokers and shavers furnish pilgrims with Turkish money for theirs brought from other parts of the globe. Matt. 21 : 12. The Mohammedans never allow anything of this kind to profane their places of worship. Immediately after en- 224 THE ‘‘stone of unction.” tering, a flight of steps on the right conducts up on to Calvary. On the top is a chapel, with a Mosaic marble pavement. It is about fifteen feet square, and formed into two apartments by two arches spanning the ceiling. Under an altar at the southern end is a circular silver plate, wdth a Greek inscription, stating that the cross on which the Son of God died stood on that spot. On each side of it is another plate, marking the places where the crosses of the two thieves stood. The walls are hung with curtains, behind which is the natural rock. At one place is a crack, which tradition dates from the earth¬ quake at our Saviour’s death, when “the rocks were rent.” Neai* the foot of the stairs which lead to Calvary is a white marble slab in the pavement, called “ the stone of unction,” on which the dead body of our Lord was anointed before his burial. Turning left around a corner we come beneath a large dome to the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. It is about thirty feet long, and half as wide. The throng of pilgrims before the small door obliged me to wait for my turn ; in the meanwhile I inspected the exterior of my fellow-pilgrims. Weary^and penance- W'orn men and women were crowded around me, some of whose garments had been worn into shreds, with sorrow- depicted faces, over which trickled the mingled tears of contrition and praise. One after the other put their sandals on the little platform at the low door, and stooped their way into the chapel. I bowed low through the first door into the chamber over the spot where the angel announced to the women : “ He is not dead ; He is risen; come see the place where the Lord lay.” Creeping through another “strait gate” I reached a email apartment, but so tightly packed with five or six THE SEPULCHRE. 225 pilgrims, that I reached an erect standing posture with considerable labor. A priest extended a bottle of sweet- scented rose-water over the crowd, and perfumed my hands. The Sepulchre is six feet long, three feet wide, and two feet high. On the top is a horizontal marble slab, of a reddish rosy tinge. This is composed of two nieces ; the Latin and Greek Christians, jealous of their mutual rights to the Saviour’s grave, insisted each on owning half of it. And this is said to cover “ the grave hewn out of the rock” in wLich Joseph of Arimathea laid our Lord. Thirty or forty silver lamps hang from the ceiling, burning night and day. The pilgrims pros¬ trated themselves before the tomb, and kissed the marble slab. Some of them trembled with emotion, and prayed like men wLo are engaged in an earnest work. Whether theirs may be the right method, in all respects, to pro¬ cure pardon, it is not for me to say ; hut men capable of such intensity of devotion and arduous endurance for their soul’s sake, should not he lightly spoken of. Next we come to the pillar of flagellation, to which our Saviour was tied when he was scourged. A small door in the wall, near the floor of an elevated platform, barely large enough to put head and shoulder through, admits one to this relic of a column. It is said only half of the original pillar is here, the other being at Rome. A large monk stood by it to check the clamorous hurry of the pilgrims. To get the head into the hole, one is compelled to kneel, and of course will be expected to kiss the pillar — a part of the ceremony which I felt at liberty to omit. In a separate, damp chamber is a small tomb exca¬ vated out of the rock — the grave of Joseph of Arima¬ thea. In their pious efforts to localize every little inci- p PROCESSION OF THE FRANCISCANS. dent in our Saviour’s life, and that, too, so conveniently as to group many of them under the same roof, the authors of these well-meant inventions have here pro¬ duced a confusion which is very embarrassing to think¬ ing minds. It is not very probable that Pilate’s hall, Calvary, and the Sepulchre, were originally so close together. Still, it matters little whether Christ expired here, or 500 yards off ; once you are so near the eventful spot, you feel content to enjoy the general and more essential features of the scene, without cavilling about minor points. I remained to witness the annual procession of the Franciscans, commemorative of the death and burial of our Saviour. At 8 p: m. priests in white robes, pilgrims, and monks, formed into two lines in one of the chapels of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. They carried a wooden image of the Saviour, the size of a half-grown boy. A choir of boys led the procession through a cir¬ cular passage toward Calvary. At short intervals the procession stopped, when one of the monks, ascending a niche in the wall, addressed the crowd ; for such by this time it was, a heap of human beings so tightly packed, that hardly a limb could be moved. With the aid of a guide I worked myself to an elevated position in advance of the procession, so as to see it pass. Each address successively was in a different language — Spanish, French, Italian, English, German, and Arabic. The boys were all dressed in white, each bearing a burning taper in his hand. At the end of every address they raised an anthem with clear, clarion voices, sweet as seraphs, treading with slow and solemn step toward ‘‘the place of skulls.” Then the deep sepulchral voices of the monks responded in the distant rear, rolling up A SOLEMN SCENE. 227 through the vast building their deep, solemn, ringing bass tones, with an effect such as the best church music in Italy never produced on me. There was a plaintive melancholy pathos, sad, yet joyful, like swan songs of departing spirits, in those little cherub singers, which kindled inexpressible yearnings after the Better Land. The monks passed before me in solemn tread, with shaven heads and flowing beards, their faces pale, and furrowed by austere self-mortifying habits, each with a lighted candle in his hand, uniting their deep, hollow voices in a responsive chorus of courage and hope to the sweet com¬ plaints of the trembling tender lambs — the w'hole pre¬ senting the most unearthly scene my eyes ever beheld. A large number of Turkish soldiers were distributed through the church to preserve order. As the proces¬ sion approached the narrow stairway of Calvary, the dense crowd drifted around it ; and when the foremost attempted to ascend, a simultaneous push from the mass blocked up the passage. Turkish soldiers dashed into the crowd, their long swords rattling on the pavement, pulling and flinging strong men away like so many sticks of wood. Like a wild channel rushing down hill toward an outlet, so they rushed and jammed into that door. The great wonder was that the soldiers could move a limb in such a tightly-packed mass ; but they wildly dashed and tore about at their work with most determi¬ nate energy. I had my fears that some would never get out of the church alive. Of course but a fraction of this multitude could aspire to a standing spot on Calvary. My ingenious guide worked me up by another flight of steps on the opposite side, just in time for the ceremony of crucifixion. As the cross was laid on the floor when the image was nailed on it, but few could see the cere- 228 CEREMONY OF THE CRUCIFIXION. mony. After tliis it was raised, near the plate marking the original spot, while a Capuchin monk, in a coarse brown cloak and hood, addressed the crowd in German. He alluded to the battle-fields of earth’s heroes and con¬ querors, and their grand victories. “ But here was the battle-field of the Hero of heroes, and the Conqueror of conquerors. Here on Calvary the Prince of Darkness, who had filled the earth with slaughtered millions, was conquered by Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God. We stand here to-night to celebrate His victory gained on this spot.” He then, in simple language, depicted the scene of His suffering; how, exhausted by the cruelty of His foes, He was compelled to hear His cross up this hill, and, too weak to hear it, sank beneath it. And then how the nails were driven through His nerve-tis¬ sued body, and He expired on the cross. This was spoken by a monk on Calvary. God bless him for his words of truth ! The procession then passed to the right of the altar, and took the image from the cross. A ladder was raised against it, and pieces of linen passed over the cross¬ beam and under the arms so as to let it down gradually when loose. Then came two monks in coarse raiment, representing Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, who had shown kindness to the dead body of Christ. One ascended the ladder and reached over the cross-beam and pulled a long nail out of the right hand with pinchers ; after slowly waving it before the crowd he kissed it and descended ; then the other drew out the nail of the right hand in the same way. Another monk closed the cere¬ mony on Calvary with a French address. During the press and push of the crowd in this small place I got mixed up with the procession. As nature 7 A SURPRISE. 220 had elevated my head higher than those of my fellows, and yet sometimes not quite high enough, I found it necessary to raise on the toes so as to get a distinct view. By this unmannerly means, however, it seems I stood in the light of a German priest at my elbow, who made up in fresh portly proportions what he lacked in height. In ' a gruff tone of voice he addressed me : “ Nu, sind Sie nicht grosz genug ? Lassen Sieandere auch etwas sehen.” (Ho, there, are you not tall enough yet ? Give others a chance to see something, too.) I stepped out of his light and apologized with an “ Entschuldigen Siemich,” (Excuse me, sir.) “Ach Gott,” he exclaimed, with evident confu¬ sion, “Ich bitte umYerzeihung. Ich wuste nicht dasz Sie Deutsch verstiinden. Sind Sie nicht ein Englander ? (Oh ! I beg your pardon. I did not think that you could understand German. Are you not an Englishman ?) He several times repeated his apology, and ever after hailed me kindly as a fellow-pilgrim to the Holy Sepulchre. At the close of the service, the image was wrapped in ‘‘a clean linen cloth” and carried down to ‘Hhe stone of unction,” on which the Patriarch, or head of the Fran ciscans in the East, anointed it with oil taken from a silver vase. An Arab monk then climbed to a niche in the ■wall and delivered an Arabic address. A thin cord girded his coarse cloak, and his antique Arab face, violent ges¬ tures, and fiery impassionate speech, reminded me of St. Anthony just emerged from his hermit solitude. The numerous lights borne by pilgrims filled the church with smoke, through which the vast multitude was but dimly seen. Crowds were hanging to the walls, looking down from galleries, niches, and grated windows, and a sea of turbaned heads waved over the pavement below. The procession then proceeded to the ceremony of burial at 20 280 MIRACLE OF THE HOLY FIRE. the Sepulchre, and I to my lodgings for rest. Thus I have given my simple story of this pageant of good and evil. Save the wrangling to ascend Calvary, I could not see much more confusion than one would naturally ex¬ pect from such a compound of Latins, Greeks, Jews, Arabs, and Turks. There was much tobacco smoking by the Turkish soldiers in the clmrch at the start, but this afterward ceased. The whole was a swarming buzzing hive of human beings, who, from motives of curiosity or religion, were bent on worshipping at a sacred shrine regardless of the comfort or peace of one another. The Greek Christians commemorate the Crucifixion at a later day, when the miracle of the Holy Fire is annually performed. As I knew what shocking scenes usually transpire during this ceremony, I was unwilling to dese¬ crate with my presence a place which many thousands revere as the identical tomb of the Saviour. The legend runneth thus : On a certain Easter Eve the lamps and candles in the church were suddenly extinguished, and in spite of many efforts could not be relighted. Then fire fell from Heaven in answer to the prayers of the priests, which lit all the lights again. And this miracle, the Greeks say, is repeated on the same hour every year, in answer to the prayers of the bishops. Not being present at this farcical comedy, I can do no better than give Stanley’s graphic description of the whole transaction : “ The chapel of the sepulchre rises from a dense mass of pilgrims, who sit or stand wedged around it ; whilst round them, and between another equally dense mass, which goes round the walls of the church itself, a lane is formed by two lines, or rather two circles of Turkish soldiers stationed to keep order. For the spectacle which is about to take place, nothing can he better suited A SINGULAR CEREMONIAL. 231 than the form of the rotunda, giving galleries above for the spectators, and an open space below for the pilgrims and their festival. For the first two hours everything ’s tranquil. Nothing indicates what is coming, except that two or three pilgrims who have got close to the aperture through which the fire is handed to those out¬ side, keep their hands fixed in it with a clench never relaxed. It is about noon that this circular lane is sud¬ denly broken through by a tangled group rushing vio¬ lently round, till they are caught by one of the Turkish soldiers. It seems to be the belief of the Arab Greeks, that unless they run round the sepulchre a certain num¬ ber of times, the fire will not come. Possibly, also, there is some strange reminiscence of the funeral games and races round the tomb of an ancient chief. Accordingly, the night before, and from this time forward, for two hours, a succession of gambols takes place, which an Englishman can only compare to a mixture of prisoners’ base, foot¬ ball, and leapfrog, round and round the Holy Sepulchre. First, he sees these tangled masses of twenty, thirty, fifty men, starting in a run, catching hold of each other, lifting one of themselves on their shoulders, sometimes on their heads, and rushing on with him till he leaps off, and some one else succeeds ; some of them dressed in sheep skins, some almost naked ; one usually preceding the rest as a fugleman, clapping his hands, to which they respond in like manner, adding also wild howls, of which the chief burden is, ‘ This is the tomb of Jesus Christ — God save the Sultan.’ ‘Jesus Christ has redeemed us.’ What begins in the lesser groups soon grows in magni¬ tude and extent, till at last the whole of the circle be¬ tween the troops is continuously occupied by a race, a whirl, a torrent of these wild figures, like the Witches’ 232 THE PKOCESSION BROKEN. Sabbath in ‘Faust,’ wheeling round the sepulchre. Gradually the frenzy subsides or is checked ; the course is cleared, and out of the Greek Church on the east of the rotunda, a long procession with embroidered banners, supplying in their ritual the want of images, begins to defile round the sepulchre. “From this moment the excitement, which has before been confined to the runners and dancers, becomes uni¬ versal. Hedged in by the soldiers, the two huge masses of pilgrims still remain in their places, all joining, how¬ ever, in a wild succession of yells, through which are caught from time to time strangely, almost afiectingly, mingled, the chants of the procession — the solemn chants of the Church of Basil and Chrysostom, mingled with the yells of savages. Hence the procession paces round ; at the third time, the two lines of Turkish soldiers join and fall in behind. One great movement sways the multitude from side to side. The crisis of the day is now approaching. The presence of the Turks is believed to prevent the descent of the fire, and at this point it is that they are driven, or consent to be driven, out of the church. In a moment the confusion, as of a battle and a victory, pervades the church. In every direction, the raging mob bursts in upon the troops, who pour out of the church at the south-east corner ; the procession is broken through, the banners stagger and waver. They stagger, and waver, and fall, amidst the flight of priests, bishops, and standard-bearers, hither and thither before the tremendous rush. In one small, but compact band, the Bishop of Petra (who is on this occasion the Bishop of “ the Fire,” the representative of the Patriarch) is hurried to the chapel of the sepulchre, and the door is closed behind him. The whole church is now one heaving 233 •' '1 ORIGIN OF THE HOLY FIRE. sea of heads, resounding with an uproar which can be compared to nothing less than that of the Guildhall of London at a nomination for the city. One vacant space alone is left — a narrow lane from the aperture on the north side of the chapel to the wall of the church. By the aperture itself stands a priest to catch the fire ; on each side of the lane, so far as the eye can reach, hun¬ dreds of bare arms are stretched out like the branches of a leafiess forest — like the branches of a forest quiver¬ ing in some violent tempest. “ In earlier and bolder times the expectation of the Divine presence was at this juncture raised to a still higher pitch by the appearance of a dove hovering above the cupola of the chapel, to indicate, so Maundrell was told, the visible descent of the Holy Ghost. This extra¬ ordinary act, whether of extravagant symbolism or of daring profaneness, has now been discontinued ; but the belief still continues — and it is only from the knowledge of that belief that the full horror of the scene, the intense excitement of the next few moments, can be adequately conceived. Silent — awfully silent — in the midst of this frantic uproar, stands the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre. If any one could at such a moment be convinced of its genuineness, or could expect a display of miraculous power, assuredly it would be that its very stones 'would cry out against the wild fanaticism without, and -wretched fraud within, by which it is at that hour desecrated. At last the moment comes. A bright flame as of burning wood appears inside the hole — the light, as every edu¬ cated Greek knows and acknowledges, kindled by the Bishop within — the light, as every pilgrim believes, of the descent of God himself upon the Holy Tomb. Any distinct feature or incident is lost in the universal whirl 20 * 234 DISTRIBUTION OF THE FIRE. of excitement which envelops the church, as slowly, gra¬ dually, the fire spreads from hand to hand, from taper to taper, through that vast multitude — till at last the whole edifice from gallery to gallery, and through the area below, is one wide blaze of thousands of burning candles. It is now, according to some accounts, that the Bishop or Patriarch is carried out of the chapel in tri¬ umph on the shoulders of the people, in a fainting state, ‘ to give the impression that he is overcome by the glory of the Almighty, from whose immediate presence he is believed to come.’ It is now that a mounted horseman, stationed at the gates of the church, gallops off with a lighted taper to communicate the sacred fire to the lamps of the Greek church in the convent at Bethlehem. It is now that the great rush to escape from the rolling smoke and sufibcating heat, and to carry the lighted tapers into the streets and houses of Jerusalem, through the one entrance to the church, leads at times to the violent pressure which in 1884 cost the lives of hundreds. Such is the Greek Easter, the greatest moral argument against the identity of the spot, which it professes to honor, stripped indeed of some of its most revolting features, yet still, considering the place, the time, and the inten¬ tion of the professed miracle, probably the most offensive imposture to be found in the world.” Of course, the more intelligent are only disgusted with this wicked imposture, but the great mass of ignorant Greeks believe it all to be a grand miracle. Very large sums are often paid for a place nearest the hole where the fire is put through by the Bishop, under the impression that the candles first lit have the most miraculous virtue. The lighted candle is taken home, in the belief that it will shield them against sickness and accidents ; and, DECLINE OF JERUSALEM. 235 finally.^ it is sewed up into the owner’s shroud, to facili¬ tate his attainment of heaven. We need not wonder that such a form of Christianity is regarded with contempt and derision by Mohammedans in the East. All that the Moslem knows about the reli¬ gion of Jesus he gets from these and similar wrangling spectacles, where his pretended followers dance in savage frenzy, like howling dervishes around his reputed sepul¬ chre — more like a pandemonium than a Christian assem¬ bly. The Turkish soldier chuckles with concealed delight, as he pitches into this frantic mass of hated ‘‘infidel” foes with the bayonet or the butt-end of his gun. Alas ! that the deluded and miscalled followers of Jesus should thus disgrace his cause before his enemies, in his own city. Once Jerusalem was the most favored and prosperous city in the world, 'when “ all her ways were pleasantness and all her paths were peace,” “peace was within her walls and prosperity Jn her palaces,” and “Jerusalem -was the joy of the whole earth.” But the wickedness of her children has brought a blighting curse on her. Her streets and sanctuaries have become the theatres of unbridled madness and shocking orgies, which many heathens would be ashamed to commit. Poetry and piety have given the name of ^‘‘Mount Calvary” to the place of our Saviour’s crucifixion, neither of which words occurs in the original Scriptures. It is nowhere called a “mount,” and the word “Cal¬ vary” in Luke, is the Latin translation (“Calvaria”) for skull, for it was called Golgotha in Hebrew, or the place of a skull. The scriptural narrative, therefore, does not call for a Mount Calvary, any more than for a Valley of Calvary. If it w'as a “mount,” as we here find it, the Bible nowhere calls it such. As to the Holy Sepul- 236 IDENTITY CF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. clire, I will not weary the reader with the long array of evidence for and against its identity. A spot consecrated by the pilgrim devotions of 1500 years, around which an almost countless multitude has knelt in tearful contrition, in itself ought to kindle and foster devout emotions in a person, as I am willing to confess it did in me. That many mistake the means or occasion of devotion for its cause, does not alter the matter. A spot around which so many hearts have poured out their penitent sin-sor¬ rows into the Ear of the All-Merciful, becomes to me a Holy Place. The Saviour “is not here, but is risen,” nor can I believe that He ever was buried in this re- 0 puted “ sepulchre.” If God took such precaution against the idolatrous Hebrews as to hide the “sepulchre” of Moses, we may at least suppose that the empty tomb of Him whom alone we ought to worship and serve, would be equally hidden by the Divine care. For once I felt thankful to disbelieve. For to me it is a shocking thought that the tomb of the Prince of Peace, whose mission pre-eminently was to bring “ Peace on earth and good will among men,” should have become the rallying- point and frequently the occasion for strife and cruel war. All the sects which existed before the Reformation have their chapels and altars here. Latins, Greeks, Copts, Syrians, Georgians, Armenians, tenaciously cleave to this spot, and eye each other with rancor and bitter hate as they engage in their respective services. Around this tomb the armies of the Crusades jostled about in deadly conflict to get possession of it. It has drained Europe of its strength and chivalrous manhood, and made the Holy Land a theatre of misery and bloodshed. It arrayed the Christian nations of Europe against the East. When the Crusaders captured Jerusalem the HISTOilY OF THE SEPULCHRE. 237 Greek Church was expelled from the Holy Places. After possessing it for awhile the Mohammedan or East- ern powers again recaptured it. The Greek Church had sustained a defeat when the Crusaders captured Constanti¬ nople, which was then its metropolis. Then already Christendom was heaving with intestine conflicts ; the Latin or Roman was arrayed in antagonism against the Greek or Eastern Church. The latter then, as now, was measurably the national and native Church of Pales¬ tine. This gave it the first chance to regain from the Turks its share in the Sanctuaries or Holy Places of which the Crusaders had deprived it. Subsequently the Latins came in again for their share. When they found that the Greeks had possession of the ante-chamber or outer chapel of the Sepulchre, they seized the Tomb itself, and now worship in its small sanctuary. The Turks still hold Jerusalem, and by sulferance allow these wrangling, jealous Christians to occupy Calvary and the Sepulchre. But the old war between Christianity and Mohammedanism has long since passed over upon the two great divisions of ancient Christianity — the Roman and Greek Churches. These sectarian feuds around the Sepulchre are still backed by kings ' and emperors. Russia is the great leading power of the Eastern or Greek Church ; France, England, and as many other European powers as policy may dictate, are the pretended champions of the Roman or Western Church. The great question to this day is, which shall have the Holy Sepul¬ chre. It is well known that the strife for precedence on this supposed holy spot gave an occasion for the late war with Russia in the Crimea. The roof of the large dome surmounting the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre is now very much out of repair. The water has been leaking 238 SITE OF Solomon’s temple. tbrougli for years, threatening greatly to injure the build¬ ing. If Russia or France dares to touch the dilapidating hole with hammer or trowel, they will establish a right ; for if a man repairs a roof on a building in the East, he creates a claim to it. Here the East and West are look¬ ing at this leak with sleepless vigilance and with uplifted sceptres, backed by millions of warriors, defiantly warn each other not to stop the leakage, though it cause the vast building to crumble to the earth. It is rapidly increasing, and loudly calls for repair. This day the eyes of the mightiest kingdoms and empires of the earth are looking to Jerusalem as the fruitful source of another war. It is acknowledged on all sides that the roof should be repaired, but whether it can be done without strewing the earth with slaughtered armies, the future alone can show. 0 what a commentary on human nature, that a spot revered as the grave of the adorable Son of God should be perverted into a fountain of strife and an occa¬ sion for human misery ! April Hth. — Ahmed took us on the roof of the Gov¬ ernor’s house, where we had a view of the site of Solo¬ mon’s temple. The Mosque (temple) of Omar covers the spot — a most magnificent structure. Next to Mecca, this is the most sacred spot of which Mohammedanism boasts ; it has only one mosque which excels this in splendor. There is still a wall around it, as there was in ancient times, with gates through which only Moham¬ medans are allowed to pass. This wall is about 500 yards long and 318 broad, forming a large grassy area, with a few cypress trees, around the mosque. To the south of it, in the same enclosure, is the smaller Mosque of El-Aksa. The whole court has the air of a cheerful THE MOSQUE OF OMAR. 239 park, which on Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath, is covered with groups of men and women. The Mosque of Omar was built about 1200 years ago. In modern times but few Christians have been allowed to enter its famous precincts. Three American friends, with whom I had the pleasure to travel in Italy and Egypt, had the rare good fortune to gain admission about a month before we reached Jerusalem. Bishop Gohat and the English Consul made up a party, and with the aid of a liberal hucksheesh, explored the whole building. On an elevated platform, in the centre of the area, stands the charming mosque, a large octagonal building. At each corner is a door leading through a vestibule into the interior place of worship. Fifty-two windows admit the light through its white walls, and six¬ teen columns support the large dome, lifting its vast pro¬ portions high above the earth. The lower walls on the outside are of marble ; higher up it is covered with white, yellow, green, and blue tiles, containing inscriptions from the Koran, which give it a singular variegated coloring. The dome, likewise roofed with many-colored tiles, rises ninety feet above the pavement, and is forty feet in diameter. Under the centre of this dome is a rock, the summit of Moriah, on which Abraham was commanded to offer Isaac, and over which the original temple of Solo« mon stood. Gen. 22. “It is irregular in its form, and measures about sixty feet in one direction, and fifty in the other. It projects about five feet above the marble pavement, and the pavement of the mosque is about twelve feet above the level of the enclosure, making this rise seventeen feet above the ground. ... It ap¬ pears to be the natural surface of Mount Moriah ; in a few places there are marks of chiselling ; at its south- 240 A FOUNTAIN IN THE TEMPLE. east corner is an excavated chamber, to which there is a descent by a flight of stone steps. This chamber is irre¬ gular in form, and its superficial area is about 600 feet ; the average height seven feet. In the centre of the rocky cave there is a circular slab of marble, which being struck makes a hollow sound, thereby showing that there is a well or excavation beneath.’' It has now been ascertained, with considerable cer¬ tainty, that there is a living spring or well beneath this temple vault. The two pools of Siloam, at the southern slope of Mount Zion, get their water from here through subterranean aqueducts ; so that Milton was correct when he wrote of “ Siloa’s brook that flowed Fast by the oracle of God.^^ This living fountain in the concealed heart of the tem¬ ple explains a number of significant Scriptural allusions. ‘‘ There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High.” Psalm 46 : 4. ‘‘All my springs are in thee.” Psalm 87 : 7. “Draw water out of the wells of salvation.” Isaiah 12 : 3. “In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David, and to the inhabit¬ ants of Jerusalem, for sin and uncleanness.” Zech. 13 : 1. And in Ezekiel’s vision the fountain was made to gush up “ from under the right side of the altar,” which stood over it, and ran out under the threshold eastward, swelled into a river running along the winding Kedron to the valley of the Dead Sea, making the sand fertile, and healing its deadly waters, scattering life in its track, “because their waters they issued out of the sanctuary.” Ezek. 47. No figure could be more expressive, in a ornan’s threshing-floor. 241 prophetic description of the influence of Christ’s Incar¬ nation, than this. And the source of the living fountain ' is very significant. It springs from under the altar in the tenifle ; the region through which it runs is without life, treeless, wheatless, and dreary, in which the water strew’s life and good cheer, just as the fountain and stream of Christianity, opened in the House of David, and by David’s son, scatters life through the moral desert of humanity in the world,, and heals the Dead Sea of sin. This stream from Jerusalem shall be perennial. And it shall be, in that day, that living waters shall go out from Jerusalem ; half of them toward the former sea (the Mediterranean), and half of them toward the hinder sea (the Dead Sea) : in summer and winter shall it he.'' Zech. 14 : 8. These two seas are both some thirty miles from Jerusalem — one on the west, and the other on the south-east of it. And finally the heavenly meaning of the spring in the temple is brought out most distinctly, when near this fountain, “ In the last day, that great day of the feast [of tabernacles], Jesus stood and cried, saying ; If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.” John 7 : 37. On this rock was Oman’s “threshing-floor,” over which the destroying angel appeared to him, when he and his sons hid themselves, perhaps in this very cave under the rock. Then David bought it according to the command of the Lord, built an altar there, and made it the site for Solomon’s temple. 1 Chron. 21. From the Governor’s house I passed out the St. Ste- ** phen’s gate, near the temple, down a steep road over a bridge across the Kedron, in poetry called “ the sweet flowing Kedron,” with a “gentle stream,” but even after this rainy season perfectly dry. Then I passed Gethse- 21 Q 242 A PIOUS PILGRIM. mane up the steep path of the Mount of Olives. On my * way I met two simple pilgrims from the Austrian Tyrol. One of them, an old peasant, was full of gratitude and praise to God for bringing him to the Holy Sepulchre before his death. He said this had been his great desire from early youth. He was well-read in Scripture, and quoted it readily. Speaking of confession, he said it was of little use unless a man amend his ways, and that he can only do by the help of God. I listened quietly to the simple story of his heart, and felt happy to believe that he too was a traveller to the Jerusalem above. His coun¬ tenance beamed with 'joy when I referred to a pocket Testament to read the sad story of the Saviour’s agony in the Garden, while seated together right above it. The Mount of Olives is 180 feet higher than the top of Mount Zion, the highest point of Jerusalem. From its top the whole city spread out to view in all its features. The temple area extended along the edge of the Valley of Kedron, then the city sloped upwards until it culmi¬ nated in Mount Zion. From this distance the houses had a white appearance, the mosques and minarets shone with new lustre, and proclaimed the faith of Jerusalem’s rulers. Twenty-five miles eastward we saw the Jordan worming its tortuous course down to the Dead Sea. The next day was Easter, the Resurrection day of our Saviour. We attended services in the church on Mount Zion. One of the missionaries preached on Hebrews 13 : 20, 21. Two persons were then ordained by the Bishop as Deacons in the missionary work, after which the communion of the Lord’s Supper w'as administered. Not far from here Jesus instituted the Holy Supper under the most sad and solemn circumstances. The intrinsic solemnity of the Holy Sacrament, and the impressive CHURCH SERVICE ON MOUNT ZION. 243 associations and reminiscences of the place, brought the scene of Christ’s sufferings, death, and resurrection so vividly before the mind, that it was impossible for one to control his emotions. Here, here, on this hill our sins Avere atoned for, and those of the whole world. Tears w’ere the only relief. Strong, unfeeling men, whom I had been accustomed to regard as void of all religious sympa¬ thy, sobbed out their sorrow-burdens, and wiped off the tears as they rolled fast over faces which looked as if they had never felt a tear, and communed. At last the native members, — white-veiled women, and men with their tur¬ bans on, devoutly knelt around the altar to receive His “ body broken ” and his “ cup,” which is the communion of His blood. The congregation viSiS composed of per¬ sons from various branches of the Protestant Church and from all parts of the Christian world, who came up hither to enjoy communion with Christ. This worshipping as¬ sembly of Christians, rising above partition walls and denominational shackles, whose hearts repented, wept, and prayed as one heart, presented a pleasing contrast to the sectarian strife in the Church of the Sepulchre, and also to that of Protestant Christianity elsewhere. It seemed like an encouraging type of the union of God’s people in the Jerusalem above. It was a day of joy, for it comme¬ morated the Resurrection of the Saviour. There at Cal¬ vary and the Saviour’s grave we sang : Jesus Christ is risen to-day,” and, I know that my Redeemer lives,'’ hymns that express the conscious sense of a risen living Saviour, which have become a memorial of my blessed, experience on this Easter at Jerusalem. In the after¬ noon I strolled across the Kedron again, and sat me under an old olive tree, half-way up the slope of Olivet, reading the 24th chapter of Matthew : There shall not 244 PARABLE OF THE FIG TREE. be left one stone upon another that shall not he thrown down.” Our Saviour’s prediction has been literally fulfilled. Immediately before me were a few fig-trees, with buds just opening into leaves, such as the Saviour may have pointed to. Now learn a parable of the fig tree, When his branch is yet tender and putteth forth leaveSs ye know that the summer is nigh.” v. 32. On my return I met a procession coming out of the city with tamborines and rude flags, making a clattering noise. Just as I reached the St. Stephen’s gate, the muezzin called to prayer from a lofty minaret. There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his prophet,” rang across the valley of Jehoshaphat, and around the temple. It was at the ninth hour (3 P. M.), when the evening ser¬ vice of the Jews used to begin ; the hour when our Sa¬ viour said it is finished ; and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.” The blind man walked slowly around the top of his tower, perhaps the size of a lofty furnace chimney, within a railing, crying toward the four points of the compass, and calling the followers of the Prophet to pray where Zion lies desolate and in ruins. We attended a service on Mount Zion on a Sab¬ bath evening, in the Diocesan school room. While kneel¬ ing in prayer, with full and devout hearts, suddenly the shrill voice fell upon us again from a neighbouring mina¬ ret : “ Allahah il Allah ! ” as if to thrust the futile claims of Mohammed upon us w^hile kneeling around the mercy- seat of Jesus. Jerusalem’s walls. •9 1 r, it/ CHAPTER XI. SnasaUm nni ita lurroaniingB. The present, like the ancient Jerusalem, is surrounded by a wall, which was built in the 16th century. It is from forty to fifty feet high, and has forty strong square towers at regular intervals, after the style of the old wall. The modern wall is very thick and massive, and has a strong breastwork along the outer edge on the top, within which is a path to walk around it. This breast¬ work is perforated with loop-holes, through which to direct the guns at the enemy in time of war. An¬ ciently, watchmen were placed on the wall, to watch and herald the approach of the enemy, which Isaiah figura¬ tively applies to the Church and her watching ministers. “ I have set watchmen upon thy walls, 0 Jerusalem, which shall never hold their peace day nor night : ye that make mention of the Lord keep not silence.” Isaiah 62 : 6. Robinson gives the length of the wall around the whole city as being two miles and a half. It took mo about an hour and a quarter to walk around it, which led me to think that it must be longer. Four gates are guarded by Turkish soldiers — the .Damascus gate on the north, the Zion’s gate on the south, St. Stephen’s gate on the east, and the Jafla gate on the west. Instead of 21* 246 GATES OF HEAVENLY JERUSALEM. a direct passage through these gates, the road runs at right-angles, zigzag fashion, so that no carriage or wagon could pass through them. At the sides are benches, fre¬ quently filled with tattlers and news-loving loafers. “ They that sit in the gate speak against me."’ Psalm 69 : 12. The gates of towns and cities w’ere places of concourse and counsel. Lot sat in the gate of Sodom when the angels met him ; Boaz sat him in the gate of Bethlehem to consult with his kinsmen, and all the people and elders in the gate” were witnesses of his generous act. Gen. 19:1; Ruth 4 : 11 ; 2 Sam. 19 : 8 ; 2 Chron. 18 : 9. These gates are opened at sunrise, and closed at sunset. All the inhabitants of Jerusalem live within the walls, save a few semi-savages that dwell in caves and huts at Siloam, on the opposite side of the valley of Jehoshaphat. The robbers render it unsafe for any one to remain outside over night. But when the gates are closed at evening, they that are without must remain without. Thus, the earthly Jerusalem is still a figure of the hea¬ venly. Once the heavenly gates are closed, there will he no more admission. Then, “he that is unjust, let him be unjust still ; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still ; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy, let him be holy still.” Blessed are they that “ enter in through the gates of the city. For without are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers, and idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie.” Rev. 22 : 11 and 15. Thus, at each set¬ ting sun the believer is reminded of the closing of Hea¬ ven’s gates at the sunset of life. Before David took Jerusalem, it was already a fortified city, and its strong walls are to this day an indispensable defence against NAEROW STREETS. 247 the plundering Bedouins and robbers of the surrounding villages, as well as against hyenas, hungry dogs, and devouring beasts. The area of the city is divided into sections by eleva¬ tions or “ mounts,” but all these again are on one moun¬ tain. Mount Zion is the highest, and was the fortified place, or stronghold of Zion, which David took from the Jebusites, and called it The city of David.” 2 Sam. 5. Declining eastward, it ends in a small valley separating it from Mount Moriah, which is considerably lower. Northward are two more elevations. Mount Akra and Mount Bezetha. These hills, all again sloping toward the valley of Kedron, give the holy city an uneven sur¬ face. The streets are crooked and narrow, and unevenly paved with large stones. The strength of the walls and towers, and the beauty of the palaces of this part of the city, were the pride of the Jewish nation. ‘‘Walk about Zion, and go round about her ; tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well her hulwarhs ; consider her palaces ; that ye may tell it to the generations following.” Psalm 48 : 12-13. Passing through a certain part of the city one day, a camel which got tired of his burden and laid him¬ self across the street, blocked up the tide of people therein. My night adventures abounded with collisions', now against a projecting stone or the step of a house, then kicking upon a donkey or his sleeping master. Men were stretched in the streets, asleep close along the houses, heaving long deep breaths, as if on beds of softest ease. One night we attended religious services in a retired part of Mount Zion. The narrow path led us through between buildings ov^er hills, like the recent ex¬ cavations of cellars, all being heaps of rubbish and debris of the ruined city. The houses are built after the usual 218 THE HEAVENLY GATE. Eastern style, presenting only bare walls without windows along the street, with a door leading to the open court in the centre, and from this into all the rooms. Few pas¬ sages in the Gospel are more frequently forced upon the attention of the traveller than that of the strait gate, and the narrow way, in Matthew 7 : 13-14. Whether you enter a house, mosque, or chapel, you must often stoop very low to pass through the door. And the streets of the towns are often so narrow, that you have to press close up to the wall to allow a loaded camel to pass you ; and sometimes when they have a larger pack than usual, they even stick fast between the walls of the houses. So those who would enter the gate of Christ’s Kingdom, must stoop in deep humility and self-abasement; and those who would reach heaven are not allowed to take much of the forbidden and useless luggage of sinful plea¬ sures with them, or they will be subject to constant annoyances, and never get through to the heavenly city. Because strait is the gate and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” More easily entered is the ‘^wide gate,” and more freely travelled the ‘‘broad way,” but they lead to the wrong place. During our visit to Jerusalem the streets were swarming with pilgrims ; in all, about 15,000 of these “strangers” were there. These usually lodge in their respective con¬ vents. The few cafes — cofiee-houses — were crowded with them, sipping their tiny cups, and smoking long pipes. Many have a filthy, ragged, and repulsive look ; some are old and infirm, with whom a pilgrimage is in¬ tended as the crowning act of life. The whole comprises a concourse of diverse people like that of Pentecost, “ Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers in SACKED LOCALITIES. 249 Mesopotamia, and in Judea and Cappadocia, in Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia in Egypt, and in the parts of Lyhia about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome.” Acts 2 : 9-10. When these are gone, Jerusalem is very dull and quiet. In the street running from the Via Dolorosa past Cal¬ vary towards the Jaffa gate, are most of the bazaars, Avhere the merchant sits in a large window and sells to purchasers in the street. The Via Dolorosa extends from near St. Stephen’s gate on the edge of Kedron, up the hill past the Latin Convent. It is called the Way of Sorrow, because the Saviour is supposed to have carried His cross through it. An impression in the wall is shown where, fainting under His burden, He sank over against it. At another place a chapel marks the spot where He was scourged. Even the houses of the rich man and Lazarus are still pointed out. The Poets and Prophets of the Bible speak of Jerusa¬ lem with such rapturous praise, that one vainly hopes to see its ancient glory glimmer through its ruins. It is hard to shake off one’s notions of its former splendor. The present walls doubtless give a pretty correct picture of their predecessors. We have no reliable pattern of any of the Jewish temples, but with the aid of the Bible and Josephus we can replace them with tolerable fullness. The latter tells us that the temple of our Saviour’s time stood in the midst of the inmost court (where the Mosque of Omar now stands). Now the outward face of the temple, in its front, wanted nothing that was likely to surprise either men’s minds or their eyes ; for it was covered all over with plates of gold of great weight, and at the first rising of the sun, reflected back a very fiery splendor, and made those who forced themselves to look 250 ANCIENT JERUSALEM. upon it to turn their eyes away, just as they would have done at the sun’s own rays. But this temple appeared to strangers, when they were coming to it at a distance, like a mountain covered with snow; for as to those parts of it that were not gilt they were exceeding white.” Besides, the city had palaces fitted up in regal splendor. What these looked like we have no means of ascertaining. Certain it is that they constituted the chief ornament of the city, and the most magnificent of them seem to have been on Mount Zion. “ Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth is Mount Zion, on the sides of the north, the city of the great King. God is known in her palaces for a refuge.” Their splendor was the pride of kings and the evidence of Jerusalem’s greatness and power. In the golden age of the Jewish nation “Peace was within her walls, and prosperity within palaces,’' Psalm 122. These monuments of Beligion and Art have all been swept away in the general ruin of the city. The 15,000 inhabitants of Jerusalem live on a heap of ruins. At first sight it has the appearance of^all eastern cities, and at a distance prettier than many of them. But a closer inspection reveals its true character, and gives it the appearance of a city which has been burnt down in some great conflagration. The streets and dwellings are on the ancient ruins of houses, aqueducts, pillars and palaces, at some places from thirty to forty feet deep. When the Protestant church on Mount Zion was built, they had to dig through forty feet of the old mouldering city to lay the foundation. The streets and buildings of the ancient Jerusalem are buried beneath the ruins of her seventeen captures. Many parts of the present city rest on the house-tops of its predecessors, where “ The stones of the sanctuary are poured out on the top of every View from the South-East. hezekiah’s pool. 251 street.” Lam. 4 : 1. ‘‘‘They have laid Jerusalem on heaps.” Psalm 79 : 1. This accounts for the prevalent scepticism respecting the alleged holy places within the walls of Jerusalem. But a very few of these can he identified with any de¬ gree of certainty. Should the city ever fall into the hands of Christian Powers again, some future enterpris¬ ing Layard may excavate streets, temples,, palaces, and dwellings, — remains far more curious and interesting than even those of Nineveh, — and restore the plan and outline of the city in her original glory. One of the few relics of the Hebrew age is the pool of Hezekiah, between the Jaffa gate and the Holy Sepul¬ chre. A row of houses hides it from the street. We passed through the ofiice of a Mohammedan banker, where a man had a piece of white linen spread on the counter, on which he performed his devotions without being in the least disturbed by our presence. Immedi¬ ately in the rear was the pool, measuring 240 feet one way and 144 the other. “Hezekiah made a pool, and a conduit, and brought water into the city.” 2 Kings 20 : 20. “ Hezekiah also stopped the upper water¬ course of Gihon, and brought it straight down to the west side of the city of David.” 2 Chron. 32 : 30. The pools of Jerusalem are among the most reliable remains of its antiquities. One day we employed a converted Jew, who led us to a subterranean lake or basin, which he called the Golden Well. We passed through a miry stable, and then down a damp, inclined, narrow passage, winding hither and thither, till we reached the edge of the basin. It contained sweet water, and as near as I could see by the aid of our dim tapers from the edge of it, is from 75 252 Jeremiah’s cave. to 100 feet square. While there, some one dropped a bucket on its dark surface from an unseen hole above, to draw water, showing that it was in use. Our guide told us that the wells and pools of Jerusalem would fur¬ nish enough water for any length of time, in the event of another siege. But nearly all this water is brought from without, through underground aqueducts. The Mosque of Omar is supplied from the pools of Solomon, and the pool of Hezekiah from the upper pool of Gihon. To obstruct the aqueducts would, of course, cut off the water. With the same experienced guide, who had been here for many years, we walked around the city. Soon after we had passed through the Damascus gate, we came to Jeremiah’s cave, in which he is said to have been impris¬ oned. Jer. 38. A large, projecting rock forms a chamber under it, hedged in by a wall. We had scarcely knocked at the door, when the porter already commenced a vio¬ lent hubbub inside of the wall for bucksheesh. A few vegetables were growing within. The cave receded under the rock forty or fifty feet, and is about the same in width. It is said that anciently the mouth of the cave was on the top of the rock, but this has been broken away, so that one can walk in on level ground. That the sorrowful prophet wrote his Lamentations here is only a conjecture, and most likely will remain such. We next crawled, backward down, through a small hole in the city wall, near the Damascus gate, into the vast quarries and vaults under Jerusalem. After light¬ ing our tapers, we descended over heaps of debris, across gullies, and around dark holes, and peered into black yawning abysses. Stones of enormous size lay scattered about, some partly dressed, which looked as if the work- SUBTERRANEAN RESEARCHES. 25^ men had just left them to get their dinners. These im¬ mense blocks had been cut down from the roof, thus forming vast arches with a solid rock ceiling, and here and there a remaining block left to support it. The ceiling, in many places, must be from twenty to thirty feet above the floor. We found large heaps of stone chips, cut off in dressing them, which shows that they were finished for the wall before being taken out of the quarries. ‘‘And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither.” 1 Kings 6:7. I feel persuaded that this quarry fur¬ nished some of the grey stones for the temple, and those remaining here may have been cut for the same purpose. The marks are still visible in the ceiling, where the last side of the blocks was wrought loose. We came to a well of water slightly brackish. The guide said we passed under the temple, and that he had roamed through these caverns for long hours without ever coming to an end. Over this vast cavern modern Jerusalem is built. Cautiously wandering hither and thither, ever watchful of yawning precipices, we groped through these dark labyrinths for three-quarters of an hour, w^hen our wan¬ ing tapers admonished us quickly to seek the light of day, or we might be left in endless night. Even the guides must be wide awake to find the way back with lights, and without these one would be hopelessly lost. It is no exaggeration to suppose that the whole city could be stowed into these quarries under it. The ancient historians, Strabo and Tacitus, speak of a subterranean Jerusalem, whose centre was under the temple, whence it branched out in all directions under the city. And Josephus tells us that when Jerusalem was besieged by Titus, great multitudes of Jews within 22 254 CAPTURE OF SIMON THE TYRANT. the city hid themselves in these caverns. One of their leaders, Simon the Tyrant, “took the most faithful of his friends with him, among them some that were stone¬ cutters, with those iron tools which belong to their occu¬ pation,” in the hope that they might cut their way out underneath the wall. When they failed in this, he “ put on a white frock,” and came up “ out of the ground where the temple had formerly been,” with the hope of frightening the Romans by personating an apparition ; hut he failed, and was captured. A large part of this underground Jerusalem was covered with pools and basins of water, to which the above Golden Well no doubt belonged. Thus, as Tacitus has it, the city within the walls is converted into a perennial fountain, while the country outside is without any water, save what it gets from the pool of Siloam. When the besiegers of Titus tried to get water here for their army, the Jews rushed upon them through a vault from under the city, until their way was finally closed up. As yet very little is known of the fundamental part of Jerusalem. You hear reports of grand arches and vaults under the city, supported by a thousand columns; of pools, and a well of living water under the temple, hut the half has not been explored. Still the country around Jerusalem de¬ pends for its water upon pools and wells within the wall. Siloam gets its water from beneath the temple, as Dr Robinson has shown ; and, if this be cut off, no army of besiegers can live any length of time outside of the city. From here we proceeded eastward, down to the St. Stephen’s gate. Near it is another reservoir, called the Sheep Pool. Along the eastern and western sides of the city are Mohammedan burying -grounds, with “whited sepulchres” and numerous grave stones. Along this side 255 ‘‘THE GOLDEN GATE.” runs the Valley of Kedron, beginning above the northern wall, sloping gradually down into a ravine, which at the temple reaches the depth of 100 feet. The bottom of the valley is about 150 yards wide. It has a pebbly water¬ course, but no water in it, save when heavy winter- showers send it. The wall runs near along the edge of the valley. At the temple enclosure is a walled-up gate, called after “ the Golden Gate ” of the old temple. Tra¬ dition says our Saviour made His final entrance through here. The Mohammedans have a tradition that the king who is to capture Jerusalem the next time will enter through this gate, and hence they keep it closed. Above the gate a horizontal pillar projects out of the wall. The followers of Mohammed, in common with the Jews, hold that the final judgment is to take place in the Valley of Jehoshaphat ; that their prophet and Christ are to be the judges ; that the former is to sit on this pillar in the wall, and the latter to stand on the Mount of Olives. In the days of Christ there was a wall along the edge of the valley here, where the court of the temple touched it, several hundred feet in height, to build up the level terrace of the temple-court. Here was “the pinnacle of the temple” on which Satan took our Saviour, and requested him to cast himself down into the deep valley. Matt. 4 : 5, 6. Josephus says the valley here was very deep, “ insomuch that if any one looked down from the top of the battlement, or down both these altitudes, he would be giddy, while his sight could not reach to such an immense depth.” Southward from here the valley becomes deeper, and its sides more abrupt. This part of it is the Valley of Jehoshaphat. On the eastern bank are the tombs of Jehoshaphat, Absalom, St. James, Zacharias, and others. 256 ABSALOM’S GRAVE. The Turks, when they pass the tomb of Absalom, cast a stone at it, with a curse upon him and all others who disobey their parents. A number of stone-heaps have thus been accumulated to perpetuate a curse upon his memory. A little higher up, on the lower slope of the Mount of Olives, is the Jewish cemetery, in which are many graves, covered with flat stones, containing inscrip¬ tions in Hebrew. To be buried here, or as near to it as possible, is the pious wish of every faithful Jew. For here, near and in sight of the temple, their fathers of old were buried; and here they await the eventful day of prophecy, as they read it, when the Lord shall stand upon the Mount of Olives,” and it ‘’shall cleave in the midst thereof,” and the dead shall rise from beneath it, and all nations shall be judged. Zechariah 14. On the opposite bank is a Mohammedan burial-ground ; for the Turks also consider this a favorite place of interment. The lower bed of the valley is rarely reached by the sun. The lofty Olivet shuts it out from morning jtill noon ; and in the afternoon Jerusalem, with its high wall, throws a darkening shade over it. It is the deep dark valley through which we must pass in going from the earthly Jerusalem to the Mount of Ascension. For this reason David alludes figuratively to it, when he speaks of walk¬ ing “ through the valley of the shadow of death.'' Psalm 23 : 4. This valley turns westward around the southern end of Jerusalem, where is the village of Siloam, whose few tenants dwell in excavated tombs and rude huts. Then the bed of the valley widens into the green, well-culti¬ vated King’s garden, where figs, pomegranates, and vegetables grow in abundance. Near the base of the bill we came to the upper pool of Siloam, or Fountain THE POOL OF SILOAM. 257 of the Virgin. Thirty-six steps lead down to the water’s edge ; the bottom of the pool being ten or fifteen feet lower than the bed of the valley. It is fifteen feet long and five or six wide. It is said to be “ the King’s pool ” of which Nehemiah speaks. ‘‘ The walls of Jerusalem, which were broken down,” passed along the base of the hill, near the pool ; and, the valley narrowing from here upward, the stone heaps would naturally block it up. “ Then I went on to the gate of the fountain, and to the King’s pool : but there was no place for the beast that was under me to pass.” Neh. 2 : 14. A little further down, we came to the Scriptural pool of Siloam, 53 feet long, 18 wide, and 19 deep. The water of both these pools is sweet, and comes through a subterranean passage from the temple, or Mosque of Omar. It ripples down over the bed of the valley, and waters the King’s garden. Its position, at the southern slope of Mount Zion, helps one clearly to identify it. Under the direction of Nehemiah, ‘‘ Shallum repaired the wall of the pool of Siloah by the king’s garden, and unto the stairs that go down from the city of David.” Neh. 3 : 15. “Go wash in the pool of Siloam” our Saviour said to the blind man. John 9 : 7. And, per¬ haps, “ the eighteen upon whom the tower in Siloam fell,” perished here. Luke 13 : 4. The whole of Mount Zion was included in th-e ancient city, the wall running near to its base ; the present wall extends over the top, placing a large part of it outside. Part of the level top is cultivated, and part is used for Christian cemeteries. Peter, in his Pentecostal sermon, speaks of Da vid, and says : “ His sepulchre is with us unto this day.” On the uninhabited top of Mount Zion, is a stone building surmounted by a minaret, in which 22 * K 258 SUPPOSED TOMB OF DAVID. Jews and Mohammedans believe to have found the tomb of David. Here, too, some place the scene of the last supper. It is called the Mosque of the Tomb of David, at whose door we vainly knocked for admission. The grave of the sweet singer of Israel is somewhere on this Mount Zion, for he was buried in the city of David,” which was built on it. 1 Kings 2 : 10. There he sleeps with ‘‘ his fathers,” and with Solomon his son (1 Kings 11 : 43) ; but their dust has been lost, and their places built and ploughed over. Passing along, we noticed a man trying to plough with an ass and a heifer. It was a sorry task to yoke such an unequal pair together. The heifer slipped the yoke, and the enraged Arab bounded after her into a wheat- field, then tried to pull her back at the horns. When he adjusted the yoke, the sage donkey walked out of the other end, and so the ill-yoked pair jerked hither and thither to the great annoyance and rage of their driver. Such a team -was forbidden to the Jews (I^eut. 22 : 10) ; and Paul applies the figure to the more solemn yokings of uncongenial pairs in wedlock, when he warns the Co¬ rinthians not to be ‘‘ unequally yoked with unbelievers.” 2 Cor. 6 : 14. Wherever there is sufficient ground over the rocks of Mount Zion outside of the w’all, the needy tenants of the Holy City try to raise their bread. Ploughed fields, wheat, barley, vegetables, a few trees, and bare rocks, now cover a place once resplendent with regal glory, “ Therefore, shall Zion for your sake, be ploughed as a field, and Jerusalem shall become heaps, and the moun^ tain of the house as the high places of the forest.” Micah 3 : 12. How these hills and ruin-heaps teem with fulfilled prophecy ! EN-ROGEL. 259 At the southern base of Mount Zion the Valley of Je- hoshaphat joins that of Hinnom, which runs along the western side of the city. A short distance below their junction is En-rogel, sometimes called the well of Job, or the well of Nehemiah. It is 125 feet deep, walled up with large square stones, and at this time was pretty w*ell filled with sweet fresh water. The Arabs say that when En-Rogel is well filled with water in the spring, the year will be fruitful. Its waters are not adequate for the wants of a besieging army. There is a small building over the mouth of it, in which are a few stone water- troughs. The name En-Rogel occurs twice in the Bible. In 2 Sam. 17 : 17, where Jonathan and Aliimaaz stayed at En-Bogel, to evade the rebellious Absalom ; and in 1 Kings 1 : 9, where another rebellious son of David slew sheep and oxen and fat cattle by the stone of Zoheleth, which is by En-Rogel, and called all his brethren the king’s sons, and all the men of Judah the king’s ser¬ vants.” The little plain, with olives around the well, would still furnish a very suitable spot for such an occasion. We now went northward in the Valley of Hinnom, climbing along its western bank, where we came to Acel¬ dama, “the potter’s field to bury strangers in,” bought with “ the price of blood,” which Judas got for betraying our Saviour. Acts 1 : 19. We entered a few tombs, con¬ sisting of chambers cut out of the solid rock, with a com¬ mon-sized door to enter. The ceiling of one contained a few rude paintings, apparently of priests. Asses and goats sought shade and shelter in some of them, just as cattle were kept and fed in the cave or stable in which our Saviour was born. Perpendicular rocks rise out of terraces, where you can walk into the tombs on the level 260 GEHENNAH. ground. An ancient cliarnel-liouse in ruins is the only building found here. This ground has been used for the last 800 or 1000 years ‘‘ to bury strangers in,” and for a long while after our Saviour’s crucifixion it was used for the same purpose. Some of the terraces were green with wheat and grass, and a few olive trees grew on others, giving it a more cheerful appearance than its origin would seem to warrant. From here we again descended into the Yalley of Hinnom, or rather Gehen- nah, as this part is called. Here, from the junction of * the two valleys northward the idolatrous Jews made ‘‘ their sons and their daughters pass through the fires of Moloch.” 2 Kings 23 : 10; Jer. 7 : 31. To prevent the recurrence of similar idolatries, it was made the recep¬ tacle of all the refuse of the city ; heaps of vile carcasses were brought hither reeking with worms and putrefac¬ tion, and a fire was kept burning day and night to destroy its vitiating and pestilential effects on the atmosphere. Isaiah 30 : 33. Thus what in former ages was, according to Milton, ‘‘the pleasant valley of Hinnom,” became the emporium of pollution and a type of the place of future torment. “ The worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched,” is a figure borrowed from the quenchless fire and the maggots and worms which incessantly revelled among the vile refuse of Gehennah. Here a vile cloud of smoke ascended by day and by night, which was like the sufferings of the damned, the smoke of whose “ torments shall rise up forever and ever.” In the course of time the decay of animals strewed the valley with a vast quan¬ tity of bones. It was “ the valley which was full of bones ” in Ezekiel’s vision. They were all bare, and bleached, without flesh, sinews, and skin, “ dry bones,” which the breath of life inspired with vitality, — an image of the MOHAMMEDAN CEMETERY. 261 life-giving power of the Gospel. Ezek. 37. The bed of the valley is now covered with a soft grassy carpet, and the atmosphere is pure and pleasant. Indeed, this whole val¬ ley of Hinnom looks more green and cheerful than that of the Kedron, showing that here, as in the moral world, the predicted life has really come. At the northern end of Gehennah a wall stretches across the narrow bed of the valley, over which passes a road. Robinson thinks that this wall formed a dam in the val¬ ley called “ the lower pool ” of Gihon. Isaiah 22 : 9. The valley is here about 100 feet deep, its depth dimin¬ ishing as you proceed northward. South-west from here is the so-called house of Caiphas, and near it a tree on which Judas is said to have hanged himself. Passing the Jaffa gate we proceeded ten minutes above it to the upper pool of Gihon, from which Hezekiah brought water to his pool within the city. Is. 7 : 3 ; 36 : 2 ; 2 Kings 18 : 17. It is in the upper shallow basin of Hinnom, where it slopes and spreads away into a common level with the stony surface of the surrounding region. Along the west¬ ern wall is another Mohammedan cemetery. Turning around the northern wall we passed along the common road to the Damascus gate. Jews, Christians, and Mo¬ hammedans, all bury their dead outside of the city, just as our Saviour “suffered without the gate,” where he also was buried. John 19 : 41 ; Hebrews 13 : 12. This then is the natural situation of Jerusalem : on the east, south, and west it is surrounded by the valleys of Ke¬ dron, Jehoshaphat, and Hinnom. It can only be ap¬ proached from these sides by coming up a hill out of the valleys. On the north it has no valley. The surface of the country in this direction presents a gradual rise from the Damascus gate. The valleys form a fork not unlike 262 SCENE OF THE ASCENSION. intrenchments dug around three sides of a place with their ground all heaped between them. This being hedged in on three sides, pressing the city wdthin fixed limits, may account for the expression, ‘^Jerusalem is builded as a city that is compact together.” Psalm 122 : 3. Jerusalem is itself on a mountain with mounts within it. We read that ‘‘As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so is the Lord round about His people.” Psalm 125 : 2. There are mountains rising out of these ravines or valleys which form a breastwork on three sides. But Jerusalem itself is higher than two of these. No mountains interrupt the view of the city as you ap¬ proach it from the north, south, and west, always being higher than its neighboring hills. On the east however, the Mount of Olives rises 180 feet above Mount Zion. From the summit of Olivet, over against the temple, tra¬ dition says our Lord ascended to Heaven. South of this, opposite the well of Nehemiah or En-Rogel, is another summit, called the Mount of Ofience, by many supposed to be “the hill that is before Jerusalem” on which Solomon committed idolatry. 1 Kings 11 : 7. Between these two summits the principal road to Bethany, Jericho, and the Jordan, crosses the mountain. There is a path over the top, which is nearer but less used. One pleasant day we left our lodgings in the street of Sorrow for a stroll over the lovely Olivet, for such it is to this day. Near the St. Stephen’s gate we paused a few moments to look at the pool of Bethesda. “There is at Jerusalem by the sheep gate a pool, which in the Hebrew is called Bethesda, having five porches.” John 5:2. It is above the northern wall of the temple enclosure, and now about 75 feet deep, formerly it was perhaps deeper. GARDEN OF OLIVET. 268 since a great part has been filled up with rubbish. Two high arches run under the houses on the west side, which may possibly correspond to some of its ancient “ porches.” It was perfectly dry, and a donkey was grazing on its weedy bottom. Recent travellers, among the rest Dr. Robinson, dispute its identity with the Bethesda of the Gospel, but so it is called, and I believe not without reason. There is no longer any water in it, as in the days of Christ, when the angel came down to move it for the healing of the sick. The Mount of Olives is immediately opposite the Temple. From here across the Kedron to Gethsemane Christ had to go several hundred yards down a steep hank or hill. The garden lies at the base of Olivet along the edge of the brook. In the golden age of the Hebrew nation this side of the Mount abounded with shady groves and served as the park of the city. The narrow streets of Eastern cities renders an open shady place of resort very necessary to the comfort of their inhabitants. Many of the strangers attending the Jewish festivals at Jerusa¬ lem had to lodge outside of the walls. It was impossible that the several hundred thousand pilgrims which assem¬ bled at such times, should find room within the city. When it was too crowded on such occasions, the shadj? quiet retreat of Olivet became a favorite resort for plea¬ sure, devotion, or rest. Up along its uneven ascent from the brook of Kedron to the summit, numerous tents were doubtless dotted through the thick olive groves. From here they could see the whole city ; the people reclining and chatting on the house-tops, and the Roman soldiers brandishing their clattering arms to quell the turbulent Pharisees and Sadducees in the crowded streets. The temple with its dazzling front stood clearly in view, and ft 264 JESTJS ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. the devout throng pressing around its gates and through its courts, was seen from the mount. They could see the cloud of incense curling heavenward from the altar of sacrifice, and hear the singers sing their psalms of praise. Olivet was, therefore, the most convenient encamping place for those who found no room in the city. Our Saviour but submitted to this common necessity when He repaired to the Mount of Olives in the evening, either to lodge with His friends at Bethany, on the eastern slope of Olivet, about two miles from Jerusalem, or in the open air with many others. When He was tired of the hypocritical and cavilling Jews, who annoyed Him with questions and jealous re¬ proaches, He w'ent out to the mountain to pray, where He could be alone. He had often resorted to the leafy solitude of Gethsemane, for His enemies knew that He had gone there the night of His betrayal, without being told: “Judas knew the place, for Jesus oftentimes re¬ sorted thither with His disciples.” John 18 : 2. “In the day-time He was teaching in the temple, and at night He went out arid abode in the mount, that is called the Mount of Olives.” Luke 21 : 37. One morning, “rising up a great while before day. He went out and departed into a solitary place and there prayed,” His “head filled with dew, and His locks with the drops of the night.” Song of Sol. 5 : 2. This was most probably the §ame mount. Mark 1 : 35. It was a pleasant relief to get out of the noisy streets of Jerusalem, crowded with 15,000 strangers, to medi¬ tate on Olivet. The old olives were vocal with the songs of many birds, and the green slopes of the mount stood out in cheerful contrast to the dreary ruins of the city, and the arid plain of the Jordan, which is seen from its i I GARDEN OF GETIISEMANE GETHSEMANE. 265 summit. Here I always found a tree to offer its leafy canopy for shade, and a solemn stillness to aid medita¬ tion. At the road-side, scarcely 150 feet from the bridge across the Kedron, is a square piece of ground enclosed by a stone wall ten or twelve feet high. The Gethse- mane of the Bible doubtless extended over an area of several acres along here, but that sweet name is at pre¬ sent applied to this enclosure. I have no doubt it is a remnant of it. After a few earnest raps at a little door in the rear wall, a monk with shaven head, and coarse brown loose habit, and a cord around the waist, unlocked from within and bade us come in. It was a strait” or low gate, and required a stooping posture to enter. The garden is laid out in beds, planted with flowers and aromatic plants. These told me a grateful story of the Saviour’s agony here, and how He seems all the more sweet and lovely for having been bruised. “As aromatic plants bestow No spicy fragrance while they grow, But crushed and trodden to the ground, Diffuse their spicy sweets around.'’^ In strange and severe contrast to these pretty sweet scented plants were eight very large olive trees, like old patriarchs, around whose wrinkled gnarly trunks and roots the tender plants of a season spread in rich profu¬ sion. Eminent naturalists compute their age at 2000 years. Their rough rind and aged features make them*^ look different from any olive trees that I have seen here or elsewhere. The wall was made to protect them, and the saintly sentinel lives in a small lodge in the corner of the garden beneath their shade, and spends his days in 23 266 BETRAYAL OF CHRIST. nursing their declining and protracted life, and preserve them as the hallowed relics that have witnessed the Sa¬ viour’s agony in Gethsemane. Their gnarled trunks and greyish foliage points them out as the most affecting of the sacred memorials around the Holy City, and the most venerable of their race in the world. At the lower end of the garden was a trellice-work spun over with a vine, forming a shady arbor, under which are a few short benches, where pilgrims sit and meditate. The Turks have thrown together a heap of stones, to mark the spot where Judas betrayed Christ, as accursed for all times. The monk keeps a sacred watch over every object on this hallowed ground. He allowed us to gather a few loose olive leaves scattered on the ground, and on my last visit he gave me a small bunch of flo'wers as a part¬ ing gift. Here “being in agony He prayed more earnestly, and His sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” Was ever ground so hallowed by Divine Sorrow for the guilty and the lost ! Here He knelt, trembled, and prayed, while His tired, weak disci¬ ples were too much exhausted to watch with Him, “sleep¬ ing for sorrow.” Perhaps the soft night air stirred a gentle rustling among the leafy trees while He agonized with half audible groans. Then came Judas and the multitude, with swords, and staves, and the betrayer’s kiss. Matt. 26 : 36-49. Every believer should have a little Gethsemane in his heart, whither his spirit flees to agonize and wrestle in bitter sin-conflicts. The dreadful garden comes before Calvary in our spiritual history, as w'ell as in the Sa¬ viour’s trials. And well is it for all occasionally to seek David’s sorrow. 267 the calm hush of the spirit’s Gethsemane to pray, and with wrestling preparation to nerve themselves for greater trials still to come. The Mount of Olives is not often mentioned in the Old Testament. When Absalom rebelled, “ David went up by the ascent of Mount Olivet, and wept as he went up ; and he went barefoot : and all the people that was with him covered every man his head, and they went up, weep¬ ing as they went up.” 2 Sam. 15 : 30. When he had come to the top of the mount, he worshipped God, where Hushai the Archite came to meet him. “ A little past the top of the hill, Ziba, the servant of Mephibosheth, met him with a couple of asses saddled, and upon them two hundred loaves of bread, and an hundred bunches of raisins, and an hundred of summer fruit, and a bottle of wine.” And as he went down on the other side, “Shimei went along on the hill-side over against him, and cursed as he went, and threw stones at him and cast dust.” 2 Sam. 16. On a certain spring morning, the season when turtles are wont to coo from the grey olive branches, and the fig-tree putteth forth its leaves ; when flowers and fresh dewy grass diffuse a pleasant fragrance over Olivet, our Saviour came up from Bethany to Jerusalem for the last time. He came with a great caravan of Jews from Gali¬ lee, who were coming to the feast of the Passover. Doubtless many had joined them at Bethany to escort the great Prophet who had raised Lazarus, their towns¬ man, from the dead, to Jerusalem. The numerous Jews already at Jerusalem, having heard of his approach, came out to meet him. Going along the road some cut down palm branches for wreaths of triumph. Perhaps the two tides met somewhere near the summit, where all 268 THE ‘‘STEONGHOLD OF DAVID.’’ fey in witli the large triumphal procession, some going before and casting their palm branches in his way, others carpeting the road with their loose outer garments or blankets. Just where the road crosses the top it turns around a projecting bluff, where suddenljr Mount Zion comes to view. Though now a part is a ploughed field,” and the buildings within the wall are of an ordi¬ nary exterior, this sudden surprise is, to this day, start¬ ling, and even imposing. The mount is crowned with the castle of Herod, where then the palace of David stood. On Mount Zjon was that part of Jerusalem called ‘‘the city of David;” and its strongly fortified position gave it the name of “the stronghold of David.” Here “ nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion : the same is the city of David.” 2 ^am. 5 : 7. Palaces and costly buildings graced Mount Zion to its base in the valley of Jehoshaphat. It was a grand sight to behold this regal citadel from any point. There was no place like it. Beautiful for situation^ the joy of the whole earth, is Mount Zion, on the sides of the north, the city of the great King.” Psalm 48 : 2. To the pious Jew, coming to the annual feasts, approaching the Holy City over the Mount of Olives, the first view of it was enchant¬ ing. When the old Sclavonians, returning from battle, got the first glimpse of their proud and splendid metro¬ polis, the whole army burst out wdth one wild, simulta¬ neous shout, Moscow, Once a mighty German army, returned from a victorious battle-field, and as its thou¬ sands of brave hearts reached the top of the vine-clad hills which overlook the Rhine, they could hold their peace no longer, in sight of their noble German river, but poured out their roaring song : “Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsere Rehen!^^ Christ's triumphal entry. 269 As the rear columns reached the hill tops, they caught the echoes of the song ; and so, from morn till night, the mighty song, ‘‘Am Khein, am Rhein,” swelled and rolled over its hill-girt shores. When the Crusaders, under Godfrey de Bouillon, got their first view’ of the Holy City, on a hill to the north of it, they at once for¬ got all the trials they had endured. The sight moved the army like a mighty tempest in the forest; the wildest warriors shed tears of joy, while the whole multitude burst forth in a stormy hymn of praise. But far stronger and holier was the enthusiasm of the Jew for his Zion. Next to the temple, “ the city of David ” was the pride of the Hebrew nation, the monument of their former glory and powder, and associated with the King whose son or descendant was to be the Messiah. When the “very great multitude” reached this turning point in the road, “at the descent of the Mount of Olives,” the city of David suddenly burst upon their view. Here, most probably, the shout triumphant rose from the vast long train, as they crowded around David’s greater Son: “ Hosannah to the son of David. Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord. Blessed be the King that cometh in the name of the Lord. And the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen.” Matt. 21 ; Luke 19. It was too much for the envious Pharisees, who asked Him to rebuke His enthusiastic disciples. Then, as now, there were many loose stones scattered over the mount. He replied; “If these should hold their peace, the stones would imme¬ diately cry out.” Hosannas W'cre still ringing in the rear as the advance procession came to another projecting ridge, partly ob- 23* 270 JERUSALEM AT SUNRISE. structing the view of the other parts of the city. When the caravan drew its long line over it, the whole city stood before them, as if suddenly raised by an enchan¬ ter’s wand. The morning sun was shining on the golden gate of the temple, reflecting a dazzling light, almost blinding. Its walls of snowy white rose above the city with unheard-of beauty. Towers, walls, gates, pools, palaces, streets, iii short every feature useful and ornamental which gave Jerusalem renown among all nations, stood out to view with enchanting splendor. May it not have been on this elevation, with this grandest of all earthly scenes suddenly before him, and with a knowledge of Jerusalem’s impending destruction, where “ he beheld the city and wept over it.” Luke 19 : 41. What a spec¬ tacle ! David hurrying up the Mount of Olives, fleeing from his city and his ungrateful Absalom ; and Christ descending it toward the city, amid the applauding ho¬ sannas of a multitude, to be crucifled ! Both shedding tears of wounded kindness and of pity for cruel, dis¬ obedient friends ! On the top or highest point of the Mount of Olives, called the Mount of Ascension, a few Arab huts cluster around the traditional spot from which our Lord ascended to heaven. The Mohammedans must always have a mosque (as indeed oriental Christians have chapels) built over every reputed sacred place. Whether it be the grave of a saint, or a place connected with his history, they must have a small edifice in which to say their prayers near his hallowed dust. Admitting Christ to have been a great prophet, though not a divine being, they even award Him such honors. Among the few, humble dwellings on Olivet, is a small Christian chapel, and aside of it a small mosque. In the floor of the I ^ BETHANY AND OLIVET. 271 chapel is a bare rock, with an impression somewhat re¬ sembling a footprint, w'hich a credulous piety ascribes to Christ ; for it is said to mark the last spot which his sacred feet touched before he left the earth. Luke (24 : 50) says : He led them out as far as Bethany, and he lifted up his hands, and blessed them,*' and then ascended to heaven. In Acts 1 : 12 we are told that, after his resurrection, his disciples returned “ unto Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is from Jerusalem a Sahhath-day* s journey.’’ Bethany is “fifteen furlongs,” or almost two miles from Jerusa¬ lem, while a Sabbath-day’s journey is not quite a mile; just about the distance between the city and the top of Olivet. How then reconcile the two narratives ? Be¬ thany is on the eastern slope of the mount, on the side toward the Jordan. There is no doubt that our Saviour did proceed to the home of Lazarus and his sisters ; but most probably returned again toward Jerusalem until he reached the top of the mount from where he ascended. I ascended the minaret of the small mosque, a column not unlike a furnace chimney, whose view embraces the most interesting localities in the w^orld. It was on Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath. A large crowd of women, all dressed or folded in snow-white linen, were strolling over the grassy court, and among the tall cy¬ press trees around the Mosque of Omar, wLere Solo¬ mon’s temple stood. The men crowded the gates to worship within. Many women, like persons wrapped in spectral sheets, came to the graves outside of the wall to weep over buried friends and children. This was like¬ wise the custom among the ancient Jews. When Mary, who had been bereft of Lazarus, went out of the house, 272 MOUNTAINS OF EPHRAIM AND MO^B. her friends said : ‘‘ She goeth unto the grave to weep there.” John 11 : 31. The view from the minaret was very extensive. East¬ ward, the bleak, desolate wilderness of Judea rolled in rough, wave-like undulations down toward Jericho and the Jordan. At some places, a green, tortuous line marked the serpentine banks of the river ; at others, nothing but its own treeless, crooked channel pointed out its course through the sandy, barren plain, toward the Dead Sea. Beyond rose the long, lofty mountain- chain of Moab, with 'just grass enough to give it a faint tinge of verdure. In the distant north, I saw the moun¬ tains of Ephraim, with Ebal and Gerizim, where Joshua had the blessings and curses proclaimed. Joshua 8. To the south-west were the hills of Judea. To the west, more than two hundred feet below me, was Jerusalem, rising up from Kedron and Jehoshaphat, higher and higher, until it culminated in the Protestant Mission Church on Mount Zion. Houses, mosques, streets, walls, and valleys, in and around it, were most distinctly mapped out. The Mount of Ascension furnishes the highest acces- / sible point for seeing Jerusalem. There is no view of the Holy City like this. Whenever Christ wished to look at the city or temple, he went on Olivet ; and thither every pilgrim and traveller now repairs who wishes to get a good view of it. From here, you can look over her walls, and into her streets. Seen from here, the deformity of her rubbish and ruins melts away in the distance ; the weeds of her widowhood appear fair as a bridal robe, and the sun sheds upon her lorn and sad condition the soft, pleasant light of mercy and hope. ’Tis so with the believer’s ascension-mount. A clearer SINAI AND ZION. 273 and more cheerful sun shines upon objects as seen from its summit. Viewed with the ken of the Saviour’s charity, the soils and imperfections of others melt away into hues of purity. Whilst dwelling in the earthly Jerusalem, sharing her sorrows and tribulations, her ruins and decay disclose marks of sorrow and suffering with saddening prominence. But from our ascension- mount these will be lost in the lustre of her triumphs, and our “abode of peace” will appear without “spot or wrinkle or any such thing.” Eph. 5 : 27. From this mount you see the Dead Sea, — the image of desolation and death ; and the temple, under whose altar is the “ fountain in the house of David, opened for sin and uncleanness,” — the abode of death and the source of life. So when the believer reaches his mount of ascen¬ sion, from which he passes into heaven, he has a view of the two worlds, — the world of sin and death, and the world of life and purity in heaven. What a difference there is between Mount Sinai and Mount Zion ! The one bears the stamp of an eternal and unchangeable Law. Every peak, cliff, and ravine reveal the results of resistless forces. The absence of grass, trees, and singing birds, shows that even naturally, “ Mount Sinai gendereth to bondage,” and is under the power of a law which worketh death. Mount Zion is rich with the music and complexion and joyous hilarity of nature. Here the rocks are covered with life, — grass, trees, and men. The one is frowning, threatening, and commanding, still lifting its stern peak aloft, around which the thunders cljfpped and which the cloud enveloped with blackness, when the Law was given ; the other is the meekest mount I have ever seen, nursing every thing planted on it into life and health. It inspires no feelings s 274 SCENES ON ZION. of dread or fear, but lovingly lures one into the green lap it spreads around its base. These mountains are symbolical of the covenants made respectively on tbeir summits. ^‘For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.’’ John 1 : 17. “ For ye are not come unto the mount that might be touched, and that burned with fire, nor unto blackness, and dark¬ ness, and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of words ; which voice they that heard, entreated that the word should not be spoken to them any more : But ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innu¬ merable company of angels, . . . and to Jesus the Medi¬ ator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaketh better things than that of Abel.” Heb. 12 : 18-24. We read that Bethany was about fifteen furlongs ” from Jerusalem, (John 11 : 18,) which would be nearly two miles. I walked out one day along the usual cara¬ van road, in thirty-five minutes, w^hich would correspond with the scriptural distance. Here and there were flou¬ rishing fig trees “ in the way.” Perhaps along this same road our Saviour came from Bethany, when he cursed a fig tree. Matt. 21. I sat down under an old olive, near the reputed tomb of Lazarus, and read the sweet story of him and his sisters In the meanwhile a few Arab children sat quietly at my feet, and spoke in suppressed whispers, as if in sympathy with my devout frame of mind. The mother of one, wearing heavy metallic brace¬ lets, came out to take her boy home, but first leading him before me for ‘‘ bucksheesh.” A trifling para sent her and the child away with chattering delight. I asked a little girl for a drink, and soon she came with a “ cup MODERN BETHANY. 275 of cold water.” 0 how my heart yearned to lead the child to Him who richly rewards such an act, if performed ‘‘in the name of a disciple” ! Matt. 10 : 42. The present village of Bethany contains some twenty families. The flourishing fig and pomegranate orchards and vineyards to the north of it, and the evident attempts to improve the rocky hills, give signs of at least some industry. Some of the flat roofs were covered with earth and grass, so that it was hard to tell whether the low stone huts were under or above ground. These sprinklings of grass in the crevices and shallow earth of the roofs are soon withered by the hot sun, when the rain ceases. The Psalmist wishes his enemies to “ be as grass upon the house-tops, which withereth afore it groweth up ; where¬ with the mower filleth not his hand.” Psalm 129 : 6, 7. Its dilapidated and half-miserable aspect is soon forgot¬ ten in its tender history ; for here the three friends of Jesus gave Him a home. When He is weary of the hypocrisy and temptings of the Pharisees in Jerusalem, He finds sympathy and a soothing, still home with Laza¬ rus and his two sisters. In Bethany we have Jesus as a friend among friends, eating and weeping with them, mingling in domestic intercourse and friendly companion¬ ship. Here He hallowed Home, and gave hospitality a divine significance. His quiet, heavenly visits breathed an air of peace and purity around the hearth of Lazarus. Mary had been “ a sinner,” (Luke 7 : 39,) about which she wept and sorrowed much. Her sins, which were many, He forgave, and therefore “ she loved much ; ” she anointed His feet with precious ointment, and with penitent tears still more precious. A sweet friendship was kindled between Jesus and this family. “ Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.” When 276 THE STORY OF LAZARUS. Lazarus was taken ill, their first thought for help turned to their Divine guest. But He is over there at Betha^ bara, beyond the Jordan. They speedily send for Him. Behold he whom thou lovest is sick.” They look wish¬ fully toward the mountains of Moab, near where He then was, and anxiously await the return of the messen¬ ger. Lazarus sinks fast, and Jesus is not here. Why this delay ? The All-Knowing knows how much we need Him. But he dies, only because his friend is absent. “ Lord, if thou hadst been here ! ” ‘‘ Our friend Lazarus sleepeth ; but I go that I may awake him out of sleep.” After four long days He comes, and bids ‘‘ Lazarus come forth ; ” but first weeps with Martha and Mary at the grave of their brother. What a precious source of consolation, that Jesus wept at the grave of a friend ! Since then mourners have a Divine companion in sor¬ row, and the tears of bereaved believers are not half so distressing. Nothing helps us more to realize the sus¬ taining grace of Jesus in sorrow, than to know that He could ‘‘weep with them that wept.” Those life- words of Jesus at the grave of his friend still sound from Bethany, like the softest music, to soothe and solace earth’s weeping mourners. “ I am the resurrection and the life ; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, 5^et shall he live.” Like a voice from Heaven came these words to me under that gnarly olive tree, while a few children sat at my feet. When the trials of the cruci¬ fixion cast their shadows over His soul, He tarries a night here, and receives sympathy. It is a small matter, but very pleasant to me, that a few women in the narrow street became types of Mary and Martha to my mind, and I seemed to see Lazarus in a young man at work near his grave. John 11. THE FRUITS OF OLIVET. 277 The trees on the Mount of Olives are chiefly olives, pomegranates, and figs. Formerly it also contained palm, myrtle, and pine trees. Nehemiah 8 : 15. The name of Bethany (house of dates) points to the existence of date-palms around it ; and even so late as our Saviour’s time “branches of palm-trees^' were strewn in His path, when He came up from Bethany. But not a sprig of these remains. A short distance from Bethany a few ruined walls crown a hill, which are the traditional re¬ mains of Bethphage (house of figs). Matt. 21 : 1. The fig trees skirting the roads and hanging along the steep rocky sides of Olivet still speak of the Saviour. In the beginning of April, when all the others were bare yet, He met one with large leaves, which always indicate the presence of figs ; but it had no fruit, and so he cursed it for its hypocrisy ; and when the disciples marvelled at it, He declared that the prayer of faith had power even to remove this “ mountain ” (Olivet) into the (Mediterranean) “sea.” We happened to be at Jerusalem in the spring. No words could better describe this delightful season than those of the Bible. “ The winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come ; and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines, with the tender grape, give a good smell.” Song of Sol. 2 : 11-13. Solomon’s description of a Judean spring would almost answer for one in a Pennsylvania latitude. The winter of Palestine, and especially of Judea, has for its characteristic the rainy seasons, instead of our snow storms and icy colds. “The former rain” comes in the fall, beginning toward the end of October, and helps to prepare the ground for 24 278 THE LATTER RAIN. i c 9 y seeding. It continues until December. During the whole winter it rains at certain intervals, and some seasons indeed it rains on till “ the latter rain,” almost without intermission. These copious showers tear up the travel¬ ling paths and tracks, and fill them with slippery mud, almost impassable along the steep hill-sides. The numer¬ ous ravines or wadys abound with wild rushing torrents, and no bridges to cross them. On account of these dan¬ gerous roads our Saviour said, when he foretold the destruction of Jerusalem : “But pray ye that your flight be not in the winter.” Matt. 24 : 20. “ The latter rain” of the Scripture usually comes in March, and continues until April. Deut. 11 : 14 ; Jer. 5 : 24 ; Joel 2 : 23. Sometimes its accumulated waters dash through the narrow valleys of Judea like swollen rivers. The Kedron, at other times dry, sends a rush¬ ing torrent to the Dead Sea. In the spring of 1857 we arrived at Jerusalem toward the end of the “latter rain.” At short intervals the sky was clear, serene, and balmy as an American June, continuing just long enough to coax one outside the walls, when suddenly a thin gauzy cloud would curtain the heavens, and spill its con¬ tents upon the earth. The hilly streets of Jerusalem were covered with a layer of mud. In the middle of the main streets was an uncovered sewer, draining the mud from the slippery sloping side-walks (the whole is equiva¬ lent to a side-W'alk on each side), where the unpractised walker had no little labor to keep out of the gutter. As the sun rarely shone into the narrow streets, they would not dry betw'een the showers. Now amid this ubiquity of mud, where the heavens above and the earth beneath are surcharged with water, where every avenue of travel and trade is obstructed by water torrents, and roads THE SEASONS OF JUDEA. 279 wrought into mortar, we can scarcely conceive of the joy which spring brings, when “the rain is over and gone.” Then Jerusalem is like a swarming hive. Through every gate the people pour to get them to their 'work on hill and in dell. Flowers — wild roses, violets, and our own dandelion — bloom along the Kedron, and among the dreary Jewish graves of Jehoshaphat. Every tree on Olivet seems vocal with singing birds, to whose sweet melo¬ dies the turtle coos a solemn bass. (The cooing of a dove inspires solemn emotions anywhere, but especially in sight of Jerusalem and its ruined temple.) Some of the fig trees on the Mount of Olives put forth their leaves, while others put forth their “green figs” before the leaves. The vines on “the mountains round about Jeru¬ salem ” (now especially around Bethany) blossom and bud into leaves, emitting pleasant odors. In Palestine rains are chiefly confined to winter. “Snow in summer, and rain in harvest,” were things un¬ heard of by the Jews. Prov. 26 : 1. Rain in harvest only came by a miracle. 1 Sam. 12 : 17. While Jeru¬ salem and Judea have ehanged, and their reputed holy places excite doubt and embarrassment, the climate and many natural phenomena remain as they were in the days of Christ. Still the rains come mostly from the west and south-west — from the vapory sky of the Medi¬ terranean. Our Saviour said, when at Jerusalem : “When ye see a cloud rise out of the west, straightway ye say. There cometh a shower; and so it is.” Luke 12 : 54. Warm and hot winds commonly blow from the vast south¬ ern deserts. All those destructive hot winds, called siroccos, blow from the south. “ And when ye see the south wind blow, ye say. There will be heat; and it cometh to pass.” Luke 12 : 55. 280 SHEPHERDS AND THEIR FLOCKS. In my peregrinations around Jerusalem I repeatedly fell in with shepherds and their flocks. The little shepherd village of Siloam, in the valley of Jehoshaphat, has several large flocks of sheep, some of which are housed after night in tombs, and others are kept in sheep-folds made of frail temporary fences, with a porter” to open the gates. “He that entereth not by the door into the sheep-fold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber.” John 10 : 1. Several mornino;s I watched them going forth across the Mount of Olives toward the uncultivated hills of the wilderness of Judea. Invariably the shepherd walked before; now’ and then I heard “his voice ” calling the sheep, and the long line followed without any person driving them. I noticed one very large flock ; there were no fences to keep them together, yet all “knew his voice,” and followed him over rocks and ridges to their pasture. “ And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them^ and the sheep folloiv him ; for they know his voice. And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him ; for they know not the voice of strangers'. . . . ^ My sheep hear my voice and I know them, and they follow me.” John 10 : 4, 5, 27. And if the shepherd, w’hen he gets into the wilderness of Judea, should perchance find that one had strayed away along the road, “ he will leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost until he find it.” Luke 15 : 4. The sheep here and elsewhere in Palestine are mostly of a large breed, with broad tails, consisting of a large lump of fat with the tail hanging out of it. In many flocks sheep and goats are mixed. Gen. 30 : 35. Goats are filthier, and less valuable than sheep. Jesus says, when the Son of Man shall come to judge mankind. CHRIST AS A SHEPHERD. 281 ‘‘ he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats ; and he shall set the sheep on the right hand, but the goats on the Uft.'" Matt. 25 : 32-33. Sinful, erring souls are like lost sheep that have gone astray (Psalm 119 : 176); and the penitents are those who return “ to the Shepherd and Bishop of their souls.” 1 Peter 2 : 25. ‘‘ Shepherds abiding in the field keeping watch over their flock by night,” received the angelic announcement of the Saviour’s birth, as a helpless child ; shepherds calling their sheep to pasture gave Him an image of His character as a Divine Shepherd ; lambs slain in the temple became types of Him who was “brought as a lamb to the slaugh¬ ter ; and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.” And when He shall appear in His glory as the Judge of all the earth. His final sen¬ tence will be like that of a shepherd separating his sheep from the goats ; and the redeemed throng in heaven will sing : “ Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.” Isaiah 53 : 7 ; Rev. 5 : 12. What a divine meaning has been given to sheep and shepherds since the birth and death of Christ ! 24* 282 EXCURSION TO THE DEAD SEA. CHAPTER XII. €tiE of Siiko — Stritljn — tjie Snrinn. April 13^A. — The day after the Latin Easter we started on a three days’ excursion to the Jordan and the Dead Sea. A large caravan of Latin pilgrims were like¬ wise going down. At early dawn already they streamed down the Via Dolorosa toward the Kedron — horses, donkeys, and wayworn footmen, contending for room in the narrow street. After sending our muleteers with tents and baggage several hours ahead, we rode out the St. Stephen’s gate, led by two mounted soldiers, to pro¬ tect us against robbers. Both sides of the road were lined with women and children, from the wall down to Gethsemane, who had come out to see the^pilgrims start. The latter rode quietly through these lines of spectators, hut the women set up a laughing, chattering noise behind their "white veils, wdth their heads all muffled up. Wind¬ ing up the oblique road of Olivet, past the gloomy graves of Jehoshaphat, we still heard their strange noise. These long lines of snow-white beings seated along the edge of the road, hailing pilgrims as they passed, presented a singular scene from a distance. So the expectant Jews sat along the road when they heard that their Messiah was coming in a triumphal procession. We passed through Bethany, and paused a moment before the tomb of Lazarus. On a hill-top beyond the village we turned WILDERNESS OF JUDEA. 283 our horses to take a last view of the Home of Hospi¬ tality. Descending through a rough valley we came to the spring of the Apostles, at the road-side, so called be¬ cause the Apostles rested and refreshed themselves here on their way to and from Jerusalem. As there is no other spring or well along the road, this tradition is most proba¬ bly correct. In an arched niche within a small pile of crumbling walls is the fountain, which pours its clear water into a stone basin. Along this hot haunted road, such a fountain must always have been a noted watering- place for travellers and shepherds. Our tortuous road descended between bleak hills, where flocks of sheep and goats were led to pasture by wild-looking Arabs. Rarely a tree was seen, and the very small flne grass was so thinly sprinkled over the surface, as to give it but a faint tinge of verdure. We left the last trace of fertile vegetation at Bethany. No house, tent, or village relieved the dreariness, only a few strag¬ gling shepherds with their flocks, who watched our move¬ ments with suspicious mien. It was the sterile unculti¬ vated wilderness of Judea ; not an absolute sterility like that of the sandy desert, but a bleak, cheerless solitude, with a little grass here and there scarcely visible. This is where the hermit prophet, John the Baptist, preached repentance. Matt. 3 : 1, 4. The raiment of camel’s hair ” is still worn among the poorer Arabs, with the “ leathern girdle about the loins.” The locusts which John ate are still eaten by the poor, and sometimes also by others. Burckhart says : The Arabs, in preparing locusts as an article of food, throw them alive into boiling water, with which a good deal of salt has been mixed : after a few moments they are taken out and dried in the sun. The head, feet, and wings are then torn off ; the bodies are I 284 ROBBERS OF THE JORDAN. cleansed from the salt and perfectly dried ; after which whole sacks are filled with them by the Bedouins. They are sometimes eaten broiled in butter ; and they often constitute materials for a breakfast, when spread over unleavened bread mixed with butter.” The wild honey is still found in abundance, which is relished very much. Wild bees deposit it on the rocks in the wilderness of Judea, where John the Baptist found and ate it. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho ” is still infested by thieves and robbers. They abide in the rock-hewn chambers hanging over the Jordan valley, and in the gorges of the wilderness. Lurking in the narrow valleys crossing the road, they sometimes suddenly pounce on their affrighted victims, and strip them of all they have. Bedouin banditti, with bold chiefs, such as Barrabas per¬ haps was, for he ‘‘was a robber,” are the constant terror of all the travellers on this road. No party can pass along here without a military escort ; not even the large caravans of pilgrims, with all their arms and valor. This road and region still enjoy their ancient celebrity. The long spears and guns of our mounted Turkish guard, their watchful look-out for Bedouin robbers, and the pros¬ pect of an attack, furnished us with interesting reflections on our Lord’s parable of the Good Samaritan. It was along this road “ a certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.” Luke 10 : 30. Several modern travellers have literally passed through the same experience. One,, whose name I cannot now recall, strolled away a short distance from his party, when he was seized by a few Bedouins, stripped of money and clothing, and cruelly beaten. An Arab more merciful than his fellows, a THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 285 modern good Samaritan ” found him almost lifeless, and brought him back to Jerusalem, where the treatment of kind friends healed the stranger’s wounds. A man left wounded and naked, without shade, water, or friends in this murky region, and under the fierce sun reflected from the bald glaring mountains, is in a most pitiful and hope¬ less condition. Jericho was then a sacerdotal station, whither priests frequently resorted. And so by chance or “ coincidence of circumstances ” there came down a certain priest that way,” but passed the wounded stranger by. Then a Levite, likewise on his way to the priestly station. Then a hated Samaritan, belonging to a race supposed incapable of a kind and good act. He had compassion on him, dismounted, dressed his wounds, “set him on his beast and brought him to an inn” — khan or caravanserai, where man and beast find shelter over night ; such a one as you still find on the side of a hill half-way between Jerusalem and Jericho. The scene of this touching act of mercy casts a pleasant charm over this haunted road, and the sweet story has taught lessons of heavenly charity to the suffering, and their deliverers in every age and country. Riding along through this dreary region, the rattling tramp of the horses started a jackall, most likely the fox of the Bible. In form and color it resembles the fox. Not very far south of this, Samson caught three hundred, and made them destroy the corn, vineyards, and olives of the Philistines. Judges 15. Their home is in wild desolate regions. When the mountain of Zion was desolated, the foxes walked about on it. Lamentations 5 : 18. But even “ the foxes have holes ” for a dwelling place, while “ the Son of man had not where to lay his head.” Matt. 8 : 20. We overtook the pilgrims about noon ; a large confused 28G A DESOLATE KEGION. crowd of people, most diverse in age, costume, and Ian guage. Mules carried a chair on each side hung together by means of ropes and straps, in which old men and women were comfortably seated. The heads and arms of children stuck out from among rattling pans and bales of luggage. Now they were strung out' in a long line over the hills, then gathering into a compact mass as a safeguard against danger. All appeared cheerful and happy, chattering as they went, for they were approach¬ ing the sacred river in which our Lord "was baptized, and were about to bathe in its famous waters. But few can ever enjoy a pilgrimage thither. It is generally the last act of a pilgrim to the Holy Sepulchre, to visit and bathe in the Jordan. If possible he brings his shroud along for a bathing suit, then carefully lays it by for his burial. To put on one’s grave-clothes before the time is enough to inspire serious reflections anywhere, and especially at the Jordan. The dreariness of this wilderness ” I have no language to describe. It grows more cheerless as we approach the valley of the Jordan. The few straggling little birds and blades of grass present a picture neither of life nor death, — shall I say of the death that never dies ? At noon-day the air is murky and hard to breathe. Schubert depicts it well : “ The deserts of Egypt and Arabia Petra, with their sand-wastes and rocks, are like a grave-yard full of signi¬ ficant tomb-stones, through which the pilgrim passes with¬ out a shudder. But the country lying between Jerusa¬ lem and Jericho is like a dying bed, on which the last spark of life wrestles with death, ever expiring without being able to die ; the gasping of a dying man battling against sufibcation is to the ear what the color and form VALLEY OF THE JORDAN. 287 of the miserable famishing plants and animals which pine away here, are to the eye.” It was down to Jericho that a certain man went from Jerusalem, and down it is to this day. Though but twenty-five miles apart, Jerusalem is 4000 feet above Jericho and the Jordan. On we rode over naked hills hedged in by larger ones, but all the while down-hill ; just as we have it in the Scripture, going up ” from or going down ” to the Jordan. Our road wound along a dry water-course, and after coming down-hill so long we expected suddenly to emerge out of the rugged solitude into the plain of Jericho ; hut having arrived at the edge of the plain, we still found it from 1000 to 2000 feet below us. The whole valley of the Jordan spread out, all a barren sand-plain, save the green wheat-fields around Jericho. The trees and jungle of the Jordan edged its crooked channel with pleasant verdure, but in some places even these were wanting. On the opposite side the mas¬ sive mountains of Moab rose out of the plain like a mighty breastwork of nature. We threaded our way zigzag down a long steep decli¬ vity, with the black, deep gorge of the brook Gherith immediately to our left. We could look some distance down into the black abyss, without seeing the bottom of the frowning cleft, but heard the roar and falling of the torrent-stream, far down. The rock-walls rise per pendicularly from the brook hundreds of feet in height, and the narrow entrance resembles that of a mountain- cavern. “Elijah went and dwelt by the brook Gherith, that is before Jordan. And the ravens brought him bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening; and he drank of the brook.” 1 Kings 17 : 5, 6. Here, then, in this dismal mountain-gorge, the prophet 288 ANCIENT JERICHO. Iiid himself from Ahab. While looking at it from the base of the mountain, two ravens flew through the narrow entrance. The remains of an ancient aqueduct extend along the flowing brook, which possibly may have furnished ancient Jericho with water. Our path from here led down a gra¬ dual descent, and soon brought us to several ruins and earth-covered walls, marking the site of the Scriptural Jericho. Hither came Joshua’s spies whom Rahab con¬ cealed. A great and powerful place it then was, the only important city in the Jordan valley. It was the door of Palestine from this quarter. Two roads still wind through mountain-passes from Jericho into the interior of Canaan; one south-west across Olivet to Jerusalem ; the other north-east towards Ai and Bethel. Along the latter road the leader of the Hebrews went up to Ai from Jericho. Joshua 8. It was not owing to any arbitrary choice that Joshua commenced his invasion of the Pro¬ mised Land. Coming from that direction he here could not have done otherwise. The Jewish caravans that came up to the festivals, from Galilee and beyond Jordan, passed through Jericho. Luke 18, 19. Owing to its luxu¬ riant palm-groves it was anciently called “ the city of palm-trees,” the last solitary relic of which has of late years disappeared. Heut. 34 : 3 ; Judges 1 : 16 ; 3 : 13. Before this proud city the host of Joshua had encamped. The gates were shut ; ‘‘ none went out, and none came m.” A wandering nomadic nation, with neither the arms ind implements of war, nor the skill to use them, was to take one of the strongest and best-fortified cities of Ca¬ naan. Nothing short of a miraculous interposition of Divine power could enable them to do this. The cap¬ tain of the Lord’s host ” led his army on to battle ; the JERICHO CURSED. 289 people sliouted and the priests blew their trumpets, and the walls fell. Joshua 5 : 14-16; 6 : 20. When Elijah came here, the sons of the prophets that were at Jericho” came out to meet him ; and when the water around the city was bitter, they got Elisha to heal it. 2 Kings 2. Our Saviour came with the Jewish pilgrims to the festival at Jerusa¬ lem. They had come from Galilee, down the other side of Jordan, a road which the Jews took to avoid going through Samaria, whose people they hated. John 4 : 4, 9. Poor beggars, as their custom is to this day in large cities, placed themselves by the way-side without the gate, to ask alms of the multitude as they passed along. Among the rest was blind Bartimeus, who, when he heard that the Saviour was passing by, cried, saying, Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me;” and Jesus said, “ Beceive thy sight.” Luke 18. Then as the mul titude crowded along the streets, Zaccheus, the rich pub lican, climbs on a sycamore tree, to get a glimpse of the Saviour. The Divine prophet becomes his guest and Redeemer. Of all these occurrences one will naturally think at Jericho. But the city, its houses and inhabit¬ ants, silently sleep under the still earth. No gates, walls, or palaces are left to tell of its former glory. Jeri¬ cho was rebuilt after its destruction by Joshua, whether on the site of the old city, I am unable to determine. But its present desolation, without a house or inhabitant, makes one think of the dreadful adjuration of Joshua : “ Cursed be the man before the Lord, that riseth up and buildeth this city Jericho : he shall lay the foundation thereof in his first-born, and in his youngest son shall he set up the gates of it.” Joshua 6 : 26. We must not confound the sycamore of Zaccheus with the tall, smooth-barked tree of that name in America. 290 THE SYCaMOREc It is a species of fig tree, still planted by the wayside, where Zaccheus found it. It bears several crops of figs during the year, which grow on short stems along the trunk and larger branches, instead of hanging from the end of twigs, as the fruit of other trees. Some say they bear seven crops a year. Their figs are insipid, and eaten only by the poorer classes. Amos had prophesied evil concerning Jeroboam. Amaziah advised him to flee from the angry king. To show that his descent and social standing are not enviable, he replies : “ I was no prophet, neither was I a prophet’s son ; but I was an herd man, and a gatfierer of sycamore fruit Amos 7 : 14. Few but herdmen, to this day, gather sycamore figs. The wood of the sycamore is soft, and in comparison to the cedar is of little value. Thus in Isaiah the re¬ bellious Jews taunt the Most High, by saying when he had their sycamores cut down : ‘‘We will change them into cedars.” Isaiah 9 : 10. And in the golden age of the Hebrews, we are told that Solomon “ made silver to be in Jerusalem as stones, and cedars made he to be as the sycamore trees that are in the vale (of Jericho) for abundance.” 1 Kings 10 : 27. It is a tender tree, seldom found on cold mountains, but mostly in hot plains and valleys. Generally it has a short, thick trunk, with large limbs branching out a few feet from the ground, so that Zaccheus could easily climb up ; its strong, thick roots strike deep into the earth and clench it fast with immovable firmness. To pluck up a sycamore tree is synonymous with an impos¬ sibility. “ Heaven’s thunderbolt may strike it down, the wild tornado may tear it to fragments, but nothing short of miraculous power can fairly plu^k it up by the "‘THE SPRING OF ELISHA. 291 9 9 root.” Hence the strongest possible illustration we have of the omnipotence of faith, even in its smallest begin¬ nings, is where our Lord said. If ye had faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye might say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea; and it should obey you.” Luke 17 : 6. In company with our guards, we rode about a mile northward, to the spring of Elisha.” The sable heads of a few half-naked Bedouins rose out of the tall wheat- nelds near the spring. One had taken his filthy gar¬ ment off, and was evidently on a hunt after the dis¬ turbers of his peace. If ever this limpid fountain was bitter, I can bear testimony to the sweetness of its present waters. The stream swells to a considerable size, and then is led off through small canals to water the plain. Wherever this water goes, it evokes grass, grain, and a profusion of flowers. Our guards steered a direct course toward the modern village of Jericho, through wheat-fields thick as a brush, hfumerous Nakb or thorn trees, grew on this fertile part, looking from a distance like apple orchards, whose branches were vocal with the plaintive cooing of the turtle. The abundance of wild flowers filled the air with pleasant odors. By the time we arrived at the village, our servants and muleteers had erected the tents immediately outside of it, and Mahommed had a dinner waiting for us, far superior to any that our host Antonio at Jerusalem could furnish. The pilgrims had encamped east of the village. They had but few tents, even old men and women had to content themselves with a roofless abode and bed on the bare earth. To secure themselves against robbers, they crowded close together. Columns of smoke curled up from their numerous fires. The diversity of costume 292 MODERN JERICHO. and faces, of age and color, composed a scene of varie¬ gated interest. Some were cooking, some eating, some smoking, some feeding their animals, all apparently talk¬ ing and contributing their mite to the din and chattering noise which filled the air. It recalled the image of the Hebrew encampment at Gilgal, scarcely a mile from here, and furnished a vivid picture of the Jewish cara¬ vans passing through here on their way to the feasts at Jerusalem. Usually they tarried at Jericho over night. All classes joined in the caravan without distinction of age or rank. The young, who take an infinite delight in such a novel travelling assemblage, often stray from parents, sometimes walk with some relatives in a remote part of the caravan, so that their absence does not always alarm the parents. It was in such a crowd that the youthful son of Mary was lost. At first they thought he had joined himself to “their kinsfolk and acquaint¬ ance” who were in advance of them. Not finding him here they became alarmed, and “ after three days found him in the temple.” Luke 2. Rihah, the present village of Jericho, is not far from the site of the ancient city, possibly on part of its terri¬ tory. It contains forty or fifty houses, miserable hovels roofed with brushwood, corn stalks, and gravel. Small yards are before some of the huts, with sheds of brush¬ wood roofs. At one side of the village is a square tower some forty feet high, fast falling to ruin. Like the ancient Jericho, it must have a wall around it, less for¬ midable however than that of its predecessor. This simply consists of a hedge of dry thorn bushes, heaped up and platted into a fence, whose sharp pins are a terror to man and beast, keeping out dogs, leopards, and hyenas. The inhabitants are a thievish clan, who are INHABITANTS OF KlHAH. 293 willing to rob and plunder, provided it cost but little effort. Their indolence is proof against filth, fleas, and famine. They and their animals live in the same pen, and share their vermin in common. Robinson says : ‘‘ They are a mongrel race, between the Bedouin and Hudhry, disowned and despised of both.” There was a time when “ all the plain of Jordan was well w^atered everywhere, before the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt.” Gen. 13 : 10. The streams which then watered it are still here. Three springs well out of the mountain, and spread tangled thickets along their currents, and carry fertility wherever they go. But the unwatered soil remains arid sand. Even now, in its neglected condition, the green fields and thorn-trees spread over the watered parts around Jericho, present a charming contrast to the sterile waste elsewhere. The little farming which the soil receives, is done on shares by a foreign tribe of Bedouins. When Joshua came up from the Jordan to Gilgal, near Jericho, a large palm grove graced the plain, nearly three miles broad and eight miles long, perhaps remind¬ ing him of the magnificent palm forest which he had seen around Memphis in Egypt. Vast fields of wheat and barley waved their golden heads among the long vistas of palm-columns. Over the tree tops were seen the w’alls and towers of the city ; perhaps they could even see the house of Rahab, which “was upon the town wall,” from which she let down the spies by a cord. Beyond rose the rugged “mountain,” skirting the Wilderness of Judea, where the spies hid themselves for three days, while their pursuers sought them on the way to the Jordan. Holes, like doors, are seen along 25=^ 294 GILG AL. its rough and almost perpendicular sides, leading into hermit-cells. This same mountain, with its gorges and caves, which furnished a shelter to Elijah and the spies, now shelters the robbers that infest this region. Joshua 2 : 15-22. On a rising ground, about a mile or two from Jericho, stood Gilgal, now without a stone to mark its site. Here the Israelites “rolled away the reproach” of their uncir¬ cumcision. Here was the first resting-place of the Ark of the Covenant, where they held their first Passover in the Land of Promise. Monumental stones were reared here, not only that their “.children,” but “all the people of the earth, might know the band of the Lord, that it is mighty.” Joshua 4 At Gilgal, as at Bethel, was the centre of the Jewish government and worship for awhile. Here Saul was made king, and Samuel judged the people. Here was the school of the prophets under Elijah and Elisha, where the kingdom was renewedly given to David, after the defeat of Absalom. 1 Sam. 11 : 15 ; 2 Sam. 19 : 15, 40. It was at the threshold of Canaan, — a luxuriant sample of its fertility — the first fruitful garden-spot they had met on their whole pilgrimage. The productive wheat- fields at Jericho, perhaps a few miles in circumference, and the only fruitful spot of the kind in this region, were just beginning to whiten, and furnished a striking pic¬ ture of the wheat of old Jericho. The next day they “ did eat of the old corn [grain] of the land, unleavened cakes and parched corn.” Joshua 5. Still the Arabs eat roasted wheat and unleavened cakes. The day fol¬ lowing “the manna ceased,” and “ they did eat of the fruit of the land of Canaan that year.” Even so will it be with the Christian pilgrim. So long as he journeys CHRIST TEMPTED. 295 through earth’s wilderness he gets his manna through sacraments and means. Once he has crossed the Jordan into the Canaan above, where the bread of life grows as a native plant, the manna will cease. High up on the edge of the Wilderness of Judea we saw from here a chapel, marking the traditional spot of our Saviour’s temptation. After His baptism in the Jordan, He ‘‘ was led up of the spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil.” Matt. 4 : 1. Whether His forty days’ fasting and temptation occurred in this wil¬ derness, or in that of the opposite mountains of Moah, in either case the retired locality would be suited for His rigid and trying work. We retired to our tents weary, but delighted with the excursions of the day. At our evening devotions we read the narrative of our Saviour and Zaccheus at Jericho. There is no guide-book like the Bible for Palestine. As my custom was, I looked at and listened to the night, impenetrably dark. A few lights glimmered from the pilgrim encampment. The Dipper and the North Star, Orion and the Pleiades, shone with unusual brightness through the thick darkness. A great multitude of tree- toads, from neighboring woods, filled the air with familiar croakings, and called up associations of home. A few pilgrim voices were heard in the distance ; a child’s voice from the village, and the occasional baying of a half- starved prowling w’atch-dog. These are little things to talk and write about ; but they belong to the scene, and evoked thoufijhts and emotions which I am unwilling to o o forget. It proved a restless night. The guards of the several encampments kept up a discharge of musketry till morn¬ ing, to proclaim their prowess to the robbers round about 296 WILD BEASTS OF THE JORDAN. Jericho, who troubled us less than the vermin of the doomed city. Long before daybreak the pilgrims started their long procession, illuminated with numerous torches. A-t early dawn we mounted our horses, and rode off along the western side of the village, whose tenants were lying about here and there in their half-open frail abodes. Birds warbled their early melodies as we rode away from the shadow of old Jericho. We soon got beyond green fields into the uneven sand-plain of an arid desert. About an hour from the Jordan we passed down the first bank into a region thickly covered with brush¬ wood, in which wild 'beasts still hide. About ten minutes before reaching the river we crossed the second bank, likewise covered with jungle. In ancient times, when the swellings of Jordan flowed out to this bank, it drove the howling beasts out of their lairs. “Behold, he shall come up like a lion from the swelling of Jordan against the habitation of the strong.” Jeremiah 49 : 19. The lion has disappeared, but the wild boar, jackal, and wolf still flee before the swellings of the river. Birds hid in the bushes ; reptiles and tigers then sought refuge here, and were all driven out when the water “ overflowed the hiding place.” Isaiah 28 : 17. The long merry cavalcade of pilgrims passed us on their return, some with dripping garments, all bearing stone or stick, as a sacred memento of their visit. Their aspect was rather that of merriment than devout enthusiasm. Whole families, man, wife, and children, sat on their single mule or camel, cheerily chatting. When pilgrims reach the river, they dismount and perform their baths in a very matter-of-fact style. Some plunge in naked ; others in their white winding-sheets. Without levity or indecorum, a primitive or domestic simplicity pervades the whole MILITARY EVOLUTIONS. 297 transaction. Whole families bathe together. The father receives the infant from the mother, and gives the poor thing a complete immersion. This will sufl&ce for a life¬ time, and save it the danger and expense of a future pil¬ grimage when grown up. As their advance guards ap¬ proached ours, one of each suddenly gave spurs to his horse, and rode round in a circle in opposite directions. Their loose robes flew and fluttered in the air as their steeds dashed wildly over the plain, still narrowing the circle, until they simultaneously approached at full speed, wdth their spears levelled between the thumb and fore¬ finger, ready for a dart. Just as they seemed to tilt together in dire collision, they tore their steeds back on the haunches with a savage look and thrilling yell that sent a cold shudder over me. They seem to delight in these sporting evolutions ; no matter how suddenly the horses stop or whirl round, they sit as firmly in the saddle as if they were part and parcel of the beast. It reminded me of the encounter of the knight of the Couchant Leo¬ pard, and Sheerkohf, the Lion of the Mountain, in Walter Scott’s Talisman,” which occurred not far south of this. My first thought on the hanks of the Jordan was one of disappointment as to its size. The Rhine and the Nile already appeared small, compared with our American rivers, but the Jordan is not half as large as either. In spite of descriptions and figures, we retain our youthful ideas of holy streams and places. Our early impressions, however fanciful, are often the most lasting. I was, therefore, ill prepared to find a stream not one hundred feet wide. The current was strong and rapid, and the water slightly muddy. Only the most expert swimmers could reach the opposite shore without being carried down 298 TOPOGRAPHY OF THE JORDAN. the Stream. At some places the channel is wider, and at others narrower, than here. Thick patches of reed or cane, like broom-corn, are found at some places along the river. They are slender, and easily bent by a breath of air. John was baptizing among these cane fields, and hence our Saviour says: “What went ye out into the wilderness to see ? A reed shaken by the wind ?” Matt. 11 : 7. The water is from five to twelve feet deep. The forest of willow, sycamore, poplar, and tamarisk trees along here is almost impenetrable. The valley of the Jordan is here from ten to twelve miles wide ; further 'north it is narrower. It is formed by the lofty range of the mountains of Moab on the East, and on the West, along here, by the abrupt mountain heights of Judea. This whole plain, up to the Sea of Galilee, could, with little labor, be made fertile as a gar¬ den ; now it is one continuous desert, save the green spot around Jericho. The Nile strews the sand along its banks, as if by magic, with exuberant fertility, and gives bread to Egypt; while the Jordan has ever been useless in this respect. The depth of its channel has ever con¬ fined its waters within its several banks. The tropical sun, which promotes vegetation wherever the soil receives the vitalizing touch of water, withers and burns up all beyond its reach. It is the great watering-place for the Bedouin tribes, but its plain remains an arid waste. Josephus says the Jordan flows “ through a desert.” A region which, four thousand years ago, was “ as the gar¬ den of the Lord,” is now a plain of simmering sand, with a few stunted thorn-bushes, and multitudes of creeping things. Besides Jericho and Gilgal, scarcely a single city or village ever rose on its plain. Although it is the river of Palestine, all its other streams being small in com- MOHAMMEDAN ABLUTIONS. 299 parison with it, I know not that it has contributed a single element to the civilization of the plain through which it winds its tortuous course. Nature sends streams out of the neighboring moun¬ tains sufficient to water the arid sand, and make these “solitary places glad, and the wilderness blossom as the rose.” But the torpid sluggards will rather rob than labor. The citizens of the plain have been ever more or less noted for this. Tropical climates enervate and pro¬ duce languor. Owing to the depression of the valley, the summers are intolerably hot, and here they extend through the greater part of the year. This has made the Arabs of the Jordan valley much darker than those of the highlands of Palestine. Their harvests are a month earlier than those of Jerusalem and the plains of Samaria. Why did John select this region to preach and baptize? It was unfrequented and retired, and then “ there was much water there.” Ablution has always been more or less of a religious practice in the East, both among Jews and pagans. Every synagogue, if possible, was near a spring or stream ; and every Mohammedan mosque has a fountain. If there is no spring at hand, it is brought through aqueducts, sometimes over many miles. The Mohammedan always washes himself before he prays. The Koran says, if he is on a journey through a sandy desert, where no water is, he shall bathe and wash in the sand before prayer. Baptism or ablution was then nothing new, but the doctrine of John was. Erom here we date that holy sacrament which has brought a Jordan into every congregation in Christendom, and the Holy Ghost wherever God is worshipped “in spirit and in truth.” Ancient names usually express some characteristic P 300 COURSE OF THE JORDAN. feature of the things to which tliey were applied. Hence this river is called ‘‘the Jordan,” which means “the Descender.” From its source to its termination it abounds with falls and rapids. It springs in the fork of the Anti- Libanus, and immediately rushes down the mountain side into a swampy plain, where it forms the Lake of Merom. It emerges from this through the beginnings of its sin¬ gular valley, and in a distance of scarcely more than twenty miles, descends three hundred feet into the Sea of Galilee. From here again it plunges over twenty- seven rapids down toward the Dead Sea, through an aggregate fall of a thousand feet. Its impetuous torrent tumbles hither and thither in this confined crooked chan¬ nel, as if constantly struggling to escape from its limita¬ tions. The distance between the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee is in a straight line but sixty miles, and along the devious course of the Jordan it is over two hundred. This deep valley of the Jordan extends between these mountain chains to the Gulf of Akaba, the eastern arm of the Red Sea. The river therefore has three distinct stages or halting- places ; the first in the Lake of Merom, the second in the Sea of Galilee, the third in the Dead Sea. The first two must ever have served as regulators in its annual swell¬ ings. For without them the melting snows of Lebanon and the accumulated floods of winter rains would have raised the small river into a destructive deluge, scattering desolation in its track. The overflowings of the Jordan are not so extensive now as they were in the days of Joshua. Then it over¬ flowed all its banks all the time of harvest. Joshua 3 : 15. In the vale of the Jordan, harvest comes from the middle of March to the beginning of April. When the copious ABRAM AND LOT. 301 winter showers and the melting snows of Hermon and Lebanon have replenished the springs, and send their rushincr freshet-torrents into the river, then it still “over- floweth its banks.” If its freshets are not so high and impetuous as in ancient times, it is doubtless owing in part to the clearing away of the forests of Lebanon and Hermon. Here then at last I stand on the banks of that sacred river whose history is interwoven with the relisrion of my childhood ! How those innocent, pure memories crowded into my mind as I quietly looked at the rapid stream ! The Jordan of my childhood, whose sweet stories, as taught me by a mother’s love, was a different stream. It was wider and more difficult to cross. She has crossed over into the Promised Land, and as I ap¬ proach its banks, the Jordan of death seems to narrow and the crossing to become less perilous. Up there, on one of those conical hills, between Bethel and Hai, stood two earnest men, almost forty centuries ago, looking down into this plain, then fertile as “the land of Egypt.” There was a strife between their herd- men because they had not room for all their herds. The peaceful Abram asked Lot to choose either on “ the right hand” or on “the left hand.” “Then Lot chose him all the plain of Jordan,” and “Abram dwelled in the land of Canaan.” Gen. 13. On his return to Canaan, Jacob says : “ With my staff I passed over this Jordan, and now' I am become two bands.” Gen. 32 : 10. On the opposite side the Hebrew nation had encamped for the last night. The priests bore the ark of the covenant, and “ as their feet w'ere dipped in the brim of the water, it separated, and all the Israelites passed over on dry ground.” Joshua 3. The twelve monumental 20 302 THE PLAIN OF MOAB. stones set up in tlie midst of the Jordan, and the other twelve at Gilgal, are no longer seen. But the river and “the salt sea” which drained its channel dry, are still here, more enduring and impressive monuments than those made with hands. On the opposite side, about three miles from the Jor¬ dan, rose the mountains of Moab, from two to three thousand feet in height. The intervening plain is still more or less covered with shittim (accacia) trees. It was at Shittim^ perhaps amid a grove of these shittim (thorns) trees, that the Israelites were encamped. Joshua 3 : 1. The greenish hue of the mountain showed that it still gives grass to the pastoral tribes beyond the Jordan. From those lofty summits two men successively obtained views of Canaan ; both were seers, but of opposite dis¬ positions and motives. The children of Israel had “pitched in the plains of Moab,” between the Jordan and the mountain, right across the river from us. The King of Moab “ was sore afraid of the people, because they were many.” He sent for Balaam, saying: “I pray thee, curse me this people.” On the mountain top Balak the King had erected an altar to Baal. Hither he brought Balaam ; “ up unto the high places of Baal, that thence he might see the utmost part of the people.” Numb. 22. There stood the Assyrian prophet with the King of Moab by his side, still half-terrified from the unexpected and startling angelic message. “His wild hair floating on the eastern breeze, His tranc’d, yet open, gaze Fix’d on the desert haze. As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.'' BALAAM AND ISRAEL. 303 Seven altars were erected three times, at different places. But all to no purpose. The curse will not come. ‘‘ How" shall I curse whom God hath not cursed ? ” Or as the New Testament has it, “If God be for us, who shall be against us ? ” From those high places he saw the tents of Israel amid the trees, streams, and aromatic shrubs of the plain, an innumerable host. “From the top of the rocks I see him, and from the hills I behold him. Who can count the dust of Jacob and the number of the fourth part of Israel.” And then, seeing the lines of tents along the river, he breaks forth in their praise : “ How goodly are thy tents, 0 Jacob, and thy taber¬ nacles, 0 Israel ! As the valleys are they spread forth, as gardens hy the river side.” Numbers 24. Then ho turned him round on his lofty tower toward the table¬ lands of Moab, looking at the mountains stretching down to Edom ; over the high wilderness beyond the Dead Sea, where dwelt Amalek ; to Engeddi, where dwelt the Ken- ite, — all in full view; and poured forth his plaintive dirge for each one. Not long after this, while the “ goodly tents of Jacob ” were still strewn over the plain, “ Moses went up from the plains of Moab, unto the mountain of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho ; and the Lord showed him all the land” of Canaan, even “unto the utmost sea,” which is the Mediterranean. Deut. 34. The precise spot of Pisgah is not known. The few modern travellers who have visited the summit of the mountain, say that its view literally embraces almost the whole scope of Canaan. There are few places in Pales¬ tine where this high mountain barrier does not loom up into view. Down in Beersheba, from the districts of Bethlehem and Jerusalem, from the regions of Gilead, 304 MOSES ON PISGAH. Naphtali, and Dan, its half-verdant ridges rise on the horizon. Through the wide openings in the hills Moses looked up to Jerusalem and Bethel. He could see the mountains of Samaria and Galilee up to Hermon and Lebanon. Ebal and Gerizim were distinctly in view, where he requested his people to read the blessings and curses. Deut. 27. He saw the land ; but the Jordan, with its deep valley, rolled between. How tenderly he had pleaded with God to tread its sacred soil : “ I pray thee, let me go over, and see this goodly land that is beyond Jordan, that goodly mountain, and Lebanon ” ! But in vain. This. only was granted to him : “ Get thee up into the top of Pisgah, and lift up thine eyes west¬ ward, and northward, and southward, and eastward, and behold it with thine eyes : for thou shalt not go over this Jordan.” Deut. 3 : 25, 27. Turning away from it, he crosses the Jordan of death into the Canaan above. “ Lo! Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there, in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord.” The land beyond the Jordan became a resort for fugi¬ tives and exiles. In the green uplands of Moab David found shelter from his wicked and ungrateful Absalom. It was at Mahanaim,” where “the angels of God” met Jacob ; here too he divided his people into “ two hosts,” when he heard that Esau was coming out to meet him. Gen. 32 : 1-7. And when Saul was defeated and slain at Gilboa, Abner took his son, Ishbosheth, and brought him over across the Jordan to Mahanaim. David crossed the Jordan at the fords of Jericho, near where we stood. Like a weary hart, faintly fleeing be¬ fore its cruel pursuers, he climbs the mountain, thinking of his dear Jerusalem, of which he takes a parting view DEATH OF THE LAWGIVEKS. ?05 on the summit. Amid such circumstances and trials he must have uttered the 42d Psalm : “ As the heart panteth after the water brooks, So panteth my soul after thee, 0 God/^ Then there was much grass around Mahanaim, and rich tribes with great herds. David and his people were “hungry, weary, and thirsty;” the hospitable tribes brought them “butter, and sheep, and cheese of kine,” and other things for their relief. Still the tribes around it graze their herds on its rich pastures. 2 Sam. 17. Then came Elijah and Elisha, the one dividing the waters of the Jordan, and ascending to Heaven while he throws his mantle on his successor. From the Mount of Olives, the places can be seen from where the three great lawgivers, Moses, Elijah, and Jesus, departed into Para¬ dise. Olivet and Pisgah, the two extreme points, are about thirty miles apart. All three disappeared in an extraordinary and miraculous manner. From the top of Tabor, where the three had an interview at Christ’s transfiguration, I also saw Moab. Up there among those desolate hills, John the Baptist, the second Elias, was preaching. “ Then went out to him Jerusalem and all Judea, and all the region round about Jordan, and were baptized of him in Jordan, con¬ fessing their sins.” Matt. 3. Looking at the smooth pebbles strewn along the shore, I thought perhaps he pointed to such when he chid the Jews for relying solely on their Abrahamic lineage: “For I say unto you, that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham.” Bethabara, where he baptized, was in this immediate neighborhood. As the vast multitude were streaming down the hills 26 * u 306 CHRIST’S BAPTISM. toward the river, ‘‘Jesus also came from Galilee to Jordan, unto John to be baptized of him.” Matt. 8. The Spirit of God descended on Him like a dove, and a heavenly voice saying, “ This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Then He went up among those neighboring Judean hills, seen from here, to be tempted. Toward the end of His life. He fled, like David, beyond Jordan, where He had been baptized. John 10. Here He was when Lazarus died, whither Martha and Mary sent for him, doubtless after looking down to these hills while they eagerly awaited his arrival. Standing on the second bank of the Jordan, and looking up and down the river, over the theatre where all these thrilling scenes and events were enacted, the general features of which corresponding so perfectly with the sacred narrative, one feels almost like an actual eye-witness of this holy drama of long, long centuries. The whole has daguerreotyped itself indelibly upon my heart. The meek old man on Pisgah (how I looked up and down the knolls of the summit, wondering where precisely he stood !) ; the ascend¬ ing Elijah in his fiery chariot; the stern preacher of re¬ pentance, John the Baptist, and the meek and lowly Jesus, who was here inducted into His ministry, these all I saw there. While strolling along the Jordan, I caught myself in¬ voluntarily humming the hymns of my childhood. “ On Jordan's stormy banks I stand " is not literally correct. Certainly the storm never dis¬ turbs its current much, though its rapid torrent stream, at the time, threatened to sweep one of the pilgrims down into the Dead Sea, and I was only saved from a similar fate while bathing, by catching hold of the limb of a tree. POETRYOF THE JORDAN. 307 This sea, which once burned with fire and brimstone, John used as a figure of the place of future torment; “ the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone,” in which the wicked shall have their part. Rev. 21 : 8. Those who are too weak to cross the Jordan, are swept down into this Lake of Death ; just as all who die in their sins are borne off by death’s Jordan into the Lake of Woe. In the present condition of Palestine, some of the imagery in our sacred poetry would not he strictly correct. The drapery of many of our hymns is borrowed from its earlier golden age, hut no longer suited to its forsaken and dreary condition. The green rich plain, with its groves around Jericho and Gilgal, must then have furnished a lovely sight to the Hebrews beyond the river. “ Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood Stand dressed in living green ; So to the Jews old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between.'^ ' I looked at the strong dashing current with hesitation and misgivings. Only after several ineffectual efforts, could I bring myself to venture in. “ But timorous mortals start and shrink To cross this narrow sea ; And linger shivering on the brink And fear to launch away.’^ Our doubts, like those of Peter, sink us beneath the waves. The only safe way to cross the Jordan, is with the help of Joshua (Saviour), who sends the priests before with the Ark of the Covenant. So God still sends the ministry and the Church before, ,as instruments to divide the water for the soul safely to pass over into the Land of Promise. The ark divides 308 THE JORDAN OF DEATH. the waters and sends our dangers and fears down to the Dead Sea. Timid souls approach it with trembling ; but dying grace is not given until we need it. When our feet dip into the water, the Jordan will dry up, provided always we faithfully adhere to Joshua. “ 0 could we make our doubts remove, Those gloomy doubts that rise, And see the Canaan that we love With unbeclouded eyes: “ Could we but climb where Moses stood. And view the landscape o’er, Not Jordan’s streams, nor death’s cold flood Should fright us fnm the shore.'' APPROACH THE DEAD SEA. 309 CHAPTER XIII. Having plucked a few mustard blossoms along the edge of the thick underwood as we got ready to start, we finally rode off southward toward the Dead Sea, sing¬ ing as we went, “On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand.” We soon reached an uneven plain, which became per¬ fectly barren and bare a mile from the sea. This belt around the shore is covered with a whitish salt crust, deposited hy the evaporation from the sea. We reached the edge of it in an hour and a quarter, making the dis¬ tance from four to five miles. Leaving our horses on the shore, we walked over a short causeway on to a rough, stony little island at the northern end, and pre¬ pared for a bath. The water is clear and transparent, but so bitter that ordinary salt water is sweet in com¬ parison. The bottom can be seen where the water is four feet deep, and even at a greater depth. Owing to its great density, the water is remarkably buoyant. It is so heavy that no storm ever ruffles its smooth surface. Good swimmers find it too heavy to work the paddles, while those unskilled in the art, to wLich class I happen to belong, cannot sink. Sink or 310 BATH IN THE DEAD SEA. swim,” is a figure that will not apply to this element. When I reached a certain depth, the head and feet showed a strong disposition to exchange places, like a man who tries to walk on the water with bladders tied. to his feet. But after a little practice, I moved and rolled about on the surface of the deep with an ease w’hich usu¬ ally belongs only to beings of an amphibious race. I could lie on the water as on a soft, cooling couch ; sit as on a chair ; walk erect, step by step, just as if my feet touched the ground. Standing or w’alking erect, my person sank up to the arms beneath the water. A slight scratch on the skin causes a pricking pain, and the smallest particle splashed in the eye will set a man al¬ most wild. It leaves a greasy substance on the skin for days. Four days after this, the hair on my head was still full of unctuous polish, as if I had dipped it into a lard barrel. An hour after our bath we met a party of friends, whose shouts of laughter first told us that the evaporated water had left a white, salt crust on our faces, giving us the spectral appearance of those dreaded beings with which the superstition of the Middle Ages had peopled this region. The shore was strewn with smooth greyish stones and pebbles, with a slippery surface, not unlike pieces of soap. Some look as if covered with a thick coat of grey paint, and are said to burn if held to the fire. Trunks and branches of trees lie along its margin, which were swept down by the Jordan. Palm trunks, of a past age, which are no longer found along the river, are still preserved in its brine. As the Jordan approaches the sea the current melts into a tame, sluggish stream, still however of suffi¬ cient force to carry its fresh turbid waters far into the bitter blue sea, without intermingling. It has no outlet. SITE OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 311 but assimilates all it receives. No fish nor any living ani¬ mals are in it. Some say that no bird will fly over it, which, however, is an exaggeration. We saw a swallow and a hawk soar through the hazy air dihove it. At its widest part, the Dead Sea is about twelve miles in width, and about fifty miles long. Its greatest depth is 1300 feet. The long, copious rains in Palestine are said to raise it somewhat, but evaporation soon restores it to the ordinary level. In most places the high limestone mountains approach pretty nearly to its shores. It is 1300 feet below the level of the Mediterranean, — the most depressed sheet of water in the world. The intense heat of the sun which pours into the steaming bowl with almost vertical intensity, during eight months of the year, creates an immense evaporation, which fills the atmosphere over it with a dense haze. At the time, it reminded me of our American Indian Summer. Earlier ages have seen in this hazy atmosphere the appearance of the “ smoke going up forever and ever.” Rev. 19 : 3. The southern end of the Dead Sea, about fifteen miles in extent, is much shallower than the other parts of it, being about thirteen feet deep in winter, and only three late in autumn. This most probably covers the site of Sodom and Gomorrah. The region round about it was then as the garden of the Lord ” in fertility, and now it is a most perfect picture of arid desolation. Whence this change.? Before the destruction of the cities of the plain, this w^as an ordinary salt lake, but much smaller than now, and the Jordan watered part of the plain around it. The air then was laden with salubrious moist¬ ure, and the ground free from the bituminous and saline exhalations now so destructive to vegetable life. The convulsions and eruptions with which God destroyed the 312 DWELLING-PLACE OF LOT. doomed cities heaved up veins of rock-salt, bitumen, and other volcanic substances, whose solution has rendered its waters so bitter and remarkably dense ever since. This increased its size, and now causes it to charge the atmosphere with substances which blight the soil with a per¬ petual curse. At the lower end some travellers claim to have found ‘‘ the pillar of salt,” into which Lot’s wifg was transformed for looking behind her. Gen. 19 : 26. All around the sea you find stones and rocks, on which the atmosphere has left a deposit of salt crust, which gives many the appearance of pillars of salt. And this is all that travellers find. I have no doubt that every thing happened as the Bible says ; but the cause of religion receives more damage than benefit from straining attempts to gratify an idle, silly curiosity, without even a plausible foundation of identity. You can change any person into a pillar of salt in a single day, by dipping him into this briny, bituminous sea, just as you can change a wick into a tallow candle by dipping it into the tallow. At the lower end of this present Sea, then in the “Yale of Siddim, which is the Salt Sea,” righteous Lot lived ! Hither he came with his herds, when he and Abraham agreed to separate. “ Lot chose him all the plain of Jordan ; and Lot journeyed east ” from Bethel. Gen. 13 : 11. On two successive occasions the Lord delivered him out of great danger. The fertile plain and its wealthy cities had for twelve years been subject to Chedorlaomer, the King of Elam. “ In the thirteenth year they rebelled, and in the fourteenth, Chedorlaomer and his allies invaded the plain. This was the first inva¬ sion of Palestine by Assyria which we have on record. The invaders conquered and took Lot and his goods with them They returned up through the valley of the Jor- LOT AND THE ANGELS. 313 dan, to the source of this river. Here Abram the He¬ brew” overtook them with his 318 trained servants, and chased them across the Anti-Libanus into the plain of Damascus, and “brought back again his brother Lot ” to Ins home. Gen. 14. Again the peace of his hearth is invaded, but not by a human foe. In the cool of the evening “ Lot sat in the gate of Sodom,” — at the gates of the city men of influence still meet for social interview, or to decide on trials and disputes. Two angels enter the gate, whom he presses to lodge with him. In the morning, destruction paused until they had hurried him and his family out of the city, when “ brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven overthrew those cities and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities and that which grew upon the ground.” Gen. 19. In truth this Dead Sea is a dreary region. The thick haze hangs over it like a funeral pall ; and the bald mountains, rising from 1500 to 2000 feet above the lake, give it the appearance of a vast kettle* sunk deep into the earth ; the bare crusty soil, and the dull sepulchral hush of a watery region, where not a wave rolls over the surface, or lashes in pleasant sounds on the shore, all combine to make it an apt image of the dreary, hideous pond of spiritual death. Whatever natural agents God may have employed in the destruction of “the cities of the plain,” the sea that covers them as a winding-sheet is a perpetual monument of His justice, which must ever visit impenitent and rebellious iniquity with its merited punishment. ' Soon after leaving the Dead Sea, the plain rose in a sloping ascent. Our path led over rough ravines, and finally up the steep, rugged mountain side, in zigzag windings. Higher and still higher we ascended, aiS we 27 514 WILDERNESS OF ENGEDDI. rode into the ^‘hill country of Judea.” The Salt Sea** spread out below us in its deep basin, far toward the south, until its blue unruffled waters were hid by the haze. The sun, reflected from the bare hills, was intensely hot, and not a tree or shrub could he found for shelter. Wo crouched in the shade of a rock to take our repast. We rode over hills without end, whose dreary aspect was relieved by naught but lizards, hawks, and an occasional chirping bird. Bathing in the sea, and the breathless heat, brought on languor and oppressive weariness, which made dreariness more dreary. We were now in the wilderness of Engeddi, where David ‘‘dwelt in strong holds” when he fled from Saul. He sought the fugitive heir of his throne “upon the rocks of the wild goats,” animals which then abounded here. 1 Sam. 24 : 2 ; Psalm 104 : 18. The caves which still remain among these hills are doubtless such as Saul and David entered. 1 Sam. 24. Some were then already old, ^nd their design and origin unknown. They were often used for hiding places. David hid himself in the cave ot Adullam. 2 Sam. 23. The five kings whom Joshua van¬ quished at Gibeon, “ hid themselves in a cave at Mak- kedah.” And Joshua shut them up by rolling great stones to its door. Joshua 10. At length we met occasional flocks of sheep : the “sheepcotes” which David saw were doubtless at their encampments. Several Bedouin women strolled after their flocks, while they were spinning wool with the distaff. It is quite a simple affair ; only the spool of our spinning- wheel, with a bunch of flaxen tow tied to the end, from which they pull off the thread ; just such as Sarah and Rebekah used. The spool or distaff* is left to dangle loosely at one end of the thread, which they give an occa- BEDOUIN WOMEN SPINNING. 815 eional twirl while twisting and rubbing at the other. They spin as leisurely as ladies in more civilized countries knit, not only during conversation, but sometimes while riding abroad on a camel or donkey. So they spun wool in the morning of the world. No cotton-jennies then. How these poor women would look to see a cotton factory of five hundred or a thousand looms running off finished bales of muslin from piles of raw cotton! We afterwards passed a black line of seventeen Bedouin tents, where the women again sat in their humble dwellings plying their distaffs. I w^as greatly pleased with the evident industry of these matrons of Engeddi. Despite the many marks of inferiority, in this respect the daughters of Ishmael resemble the model woman of King Lemuel : Who lay- eth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff,^' Prov. 31 : 19. Wearily we jogged on beneath the hot sun, among steep hills, rocks, and wadys. Einally we reached a walled road along a steep mountain side, winding around several precipitous bluffs ; and then of a sudden the famous con¬ vent of Mar Saba hung over a deep, gorge right before us. Mohammed and the muleteers had gone in advance of us and prepared the tents, ready for repose, and at no former period did we need it more. My exhaustion made me forget all the holy impressions of the day. The first and foremost thought was rest, and rest I did in a re¬ freshing nap. A few moments sufficed, and we started for a visit to the convent. After considerable battering on its little iron door, it swung open on its heavy hinges, and a monk bade us enter. Quite a crowd of pilgrims were lounging about the interior of ‘the premises. We went down a flight of winding stairs and up another into a plain reception room. Seated on the divan, the monks 316 CONVENT OE MAR SABA. entertained us with palm brandy, coffee, and raisins — the first being a barbarous kind of grog, which we declined to indulge in. They then led us through the different apartments of the convent ; into the sepulchre of St. Saba beneath a curiously wrought mausoleum, in a stone chapel in the centre of the court ; through a series of chapels, covered with quaint pictures and Greek inscriptions ; then into two chapels of St. John of Damascus ; in one he wrote his work on Faith, still the chief text-hook of the Crreeh Church; the other, contains his tomb. The church has a richly gilded pulpit, and is brilliantly decorated with silver and gold. The monks were just at service, but our guide led us close by the officiating priest, and loudly chattered his explanations, as if unconscious of the silent devotions of his brethren. From the top of its tower we looked down into the fearful gorges which furrow this romantic region. This convent w^as founded by St. Saba in the begin¬ ning of the sixth century. He lived in a cell cut out of the rocks, with a lion for his companion. A dreary chamber it is, entered by a low door, and a small side cell, where dwelt the lion. Around this cell the walls and towers of the convent were reared, on the edge of a precipice overhanging the Kedron. Through many gorges and winding crooks it reaches here from Jerusalem, on its way to the Dead Sea. The narrow bed of the crooked, deep-cut rock-channel was many hundred feet below us. I could not look down without a shudder, for the huge edi¬ fice hangs over an awful abyss. The perpendicular rocks on both sides are -perforated by numerous hermit-cells, once the abode of recluses. The naked hills around it, traversed by a confusion of gorges, without trees or grass, HISTORY OP ST. SABA. 317 present a scene of the wildest grandeur. The convent contains a vault filled with fourteen thousand martyred monks ! Many of its cells are only caves in the rocks. It is supported by massive buttresses and walls of in¬ credible strength, as a protection against foes. They extend half-way down the rocks, so that its interior from a distance looks like a very steep roof, and its cells like magnified swallow-nests along the lofty rocks. A few vegetables and a pomegranate tree in the court presented a green spot, in pleasant contrast with the general dreary sterility outside. The monks reverently pointed out a soli¬ tary palm tree, as having been planted by St. Saba himself. In the early ages of the Church, monasticism was not always confined to convents. Anchorites would often select a dreary, unfrequented spot, and live in a cluster of such cells, which they called Laura. The Greek Church was noted for this kind of asceticism, where it still is prin¬ cipally found. In the early part of its history, the monks of St. Saha thus abode in separate cells ; but afterwards they organized themselves into a cenobium or convent, under a superior. Since then it has had to encounter cruel and adverse fortunes. In the sixth century the Origenist sect violently took possession of it. After it was restored to the owners by military force, the Per¬ sians again took it in the seventh century. In the eighth and ninth centuries it was repeatedly plundered by Arab hordes, and nearjy all the monks were slain. At the beginning of the present century the rapacious Arabs again besieged its massive walls. As they have no cannons or other weapons with which to batter or scale such ramparts, they finally gained entrance by burning the small door, which then was made of wood. With its present iron door, it is impervious to Arab warfare. The 27* 318 A SUNSET ON THE KEDRON. convent at present contains thirty-five monks, and is under the especial protection of the Russian Government. Just before sunset I ascended a neighboring hill-top, which commanded a full view of the wild environs of the convent. The lofty stupendous clifis of Kedron rose from their fearful depths in awful grandeur. Here and there crumbling walls or a small recess marked the site of a former hut. The open doors of the untenanted cells within the convent walls appeared like so many pigeon¬ holes, of which large flocks were flying familiarly up and down the Kedron g9rge. The pilgrims were reclining in the court and on the roofs of the convent, chattering in many tongues. As the sun dropped behind the hills, a variety of birds, to me unknowm, began to warble in all directions, making the dreary Kedron ring with the sweet music of nature. Kever did the song of birds take me more sweetly by surprise. The sun had set to us, but still he shed his mellow evening light on the mountains of Moab, on the other side and toward the lower end of the Dead Sea. I watched the shadow as it slowly ascended to the top, and suddenly the sun was gone. Then I thought of that last sunset of Sodom and Go¬ morrah, of the angels it brought to Lot, of the riotous carnal confusion of “ the street ” at night, and how they ‘‘ vexed his righteous soul.” I was aroused from this pleasant reverie by the convent clock striking the twelfth hour, corresponding to our 6 P. M. The cheer¬ ful melodies of birds gradually died away, and my old familiar friend, the katydid, struck up a no less welcome tune. The pilgrims grew quieter and retired from the roof to their lodgings. Night hawks, owls, and bats issued from the caves that overhung the deep valleys, and set up a hideous hooting and croaking. Just then I DISTANT BEDOUIN CAMPS. 319 discovered a black line of Bedouin tents in a distant valley, and speedily returned to our own, to escape tbeir nocturnal maraudings. Soon after we resumed our journey the next morning, we reached elevations where the Dead Sea came into view again. The lurid glare of the morning sun gave it the appearance of a molten sea of lava. The mountains too reflected a light through the hazy atmosphere, of most singular hue. At this hour of the day, “ when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot,” his wife and two daughters out of the city. The sun was risen upon the earth when Lot entered into Zoar.” Then commenced the destruction of the cities. The black clouds of sulphurous smoke could have been seen from here, as Abraham saw them not far from this, rising up ‘‘as the smoke of a furnace.” Gen. 19. We passed in sight of Bedouin encampments, “black as the tents of Kedar.” Here and there a meagre patch of wheat lay nestled in a stony dell. Within a mile or two from Bethlehem, the little valleys became more fer¬ tile, and were alive with Arabs ploughing and sowing their spring seed. Only a few ploughed with horses ; the rest with small oxen, as large as a yearling calf. I do not remember of having seen any but these dwarfish cattle in all Judea ; whereas in Galilee, along Carmel and the hills of Bashan, they are as large as elsewhere. Wherever the land is cultivated, it is worked by all the villagers. It belongs to some rich nabob or the Govern¬ ment, if such a term can be applied to the ungovernment of Palestine. Some of the plundering Bedouin tribes take the government into their own hands, and farm by stealth. From remote ages, the agricultural interests of Palestine have been crippled by this worse than barbarian feuda- 320 AGRICULTURE OF PALESTINE. lism. Here we found scores of men and teams working promiscuously together. One yoke following the other, like “ Elisha the son of Shaphat, who was ploughing with twelve yoke of oxen before him, and he with the twelfth.” 1 Kings 19 : 19. Having the hindermost plough, his interview with Elijah did not stop the rest. The ploughs are frail implements, made on the simplest plan. A single handle terminating in a heavy point, or “the plough -share,” with a beam attached to it, con¬ nected with the yoke ; this is the Arab’s plough. This point in most instances is so narrow, that when the Golden Age of peace shall come, it would not be difficult for a single sword to be “beaten into a plowshare.” It only streaks and scratches over the surface, while the plougher sometimes walks sideways, with one hand on the handle, and the other on a stick, pressing the share into the ground. With their puny teams and rickety running ploughs, they are compelled to work and sow their lands in winter, when the rains moisten and soften the earth. Their ignorance of the art of agriculture compels them to toil through winter showers, shivering with cold, when they might do it to much better purpose in fair weather. It has ever been so here. “ The sluggard will not plough by reason of cold ; therefore shall he beg in harvest and have nothing.” Prov. 20 : 4. “ He that observeth the wind shall not sow ; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap.” Eccles. 11 : 4. Why? Because when clouds and cold rains cease, he cannot plough the hard dry ground sufficiently to cover his seed. Another reason why the farmers work thus in com¬ panies is for mutual protection. The most of them had a sword or gun with them to keep off other warlike and plundering tribes. Even these farmers are easily A THRILLING INCIDENT. 321 tempted to commit robberies, when, at least in a figurative sense, they convert the “ ploughshare into the sword.” As we were but a small party, with only two soldiers, the attack of so large a number might have given us trouble. A few days later, four of our American friends rode along here toward Bethlehem ; when suddenly, several Arabs gave a simultaneous signal, and all seized their guns, swords, and hoes, and rallied for an attack. Their cowardly escort, true to the reputation of these Turkish hirelings, were seized with panic, and bade the rest of the party to flee for their lives, in which they at once set them an example. In their scampering confu¬ sion they were separated, and one of the soldiers in his fright ran his horse over the brow of a hill into a Be¬ douin encampment. Then came a scufile with several Arabs at swords’ point, from which he emerged with the loss of a finger. We had a fleet, sure-footed set of horses, qualities very necessary in this part of the world. The travellei over these Judean hills can pick his path wherever safety may dictate, of which these horses generally are the best judges. When my confidence and judgment failed me along perilous places, I threw the reins down, and committed myself, under Providence, to the superior judgment of my noble steed. Riding along a steep hillside near Bethlehem, where the rocks had been washed bare, his feet flew from under him, which left me standing over his prostrate body ; but this was the only mishap that befell him during our whole tour. About a mile south-east of Bethlehem, we passed in sight of a grassy glen among the hills, where the shepherds watched their flocks by night when “ the angel of the Lord came upon them,” with the glad tidings “ unto you is born this V 322 CHURCH OF THE NATIVITY. day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2. Proceeding westward up a small hill through the city gate, then down a narrow street along the inside of the wall, we dismounted in an open place or small co' rt before the large convent and church of the Nativity, at the eastern end of the town, on the brow of a hill. We stooped through a low door into the main body or nave of the church, which is all that remains of it. Along each side, is a double row of twelve columns, making forty-eight in all. ^ These support the roof, spanned with beams of ancient cedars from Lebanon ; the walls are dimly decorated with faded mosaics. The whole is built in the Grecian style. This church was erected by He¬ lena, the mother of Constantine, and must therefore he over 1500 years old, — the oldest Christian church in Palestine. Here a venerable monk in a brown, coarse cowl and cassock, girded with a rope, received us, and offered to serve as our guide. These monks, many of them with¬ out shoes, hats, or any clothing save a piece of cloth loosely hung around them ; with flowing beards, and the crown of the head shaven, constantly remind one of the austerities of Elijah and John the Baptist. This is their dress for week-day and Sunday, for summer and winter, for at home and on journeys. He handed each of us a small lighted candle, and bade us follow him. After proceeding to a number of caves or cells in the rocks, he took us down a marble stairway of fifteen steps, into a room which resembled a basement or cellar. The whole is a cave hewn out of the limestone rock, with pieces of cloth hung over its rough, natural walls. The room or chapel is thirty-five feet long, about half as wide, and eight or ten feet high. From the ceiling, SCENE OF THE NATIVITY. 328 many brilliant gold and silver lamps were banging, which dimly burn day and night from year to year. Having no windows, and being under ground, these lamps perform a necessary service. When we reached the foot of the stairs, I saw a number of persons at the other end of the chapel, kneel¬ ing and prostrated around an altar. Softly stepping up to the devout group, we found that dazzling gold lamps hung above the altar, and under it was a silver star with glittering precious stones inwrought, containing the cir- \ cular inscription : Hic db Yirgine Maria Jesus Chris- TUS Natus est {Here Jesus Christ was horn of the Vir¬ gin Mary). At this end of the chapel near the altar, was another stairway, over which pilgrims were continu¬ ally coming and going. Still, men come from ‘^the East,’’ as did “the wise men,” to bring presents to the new-born King. All left their shoes and sandals without, and as soon as they reached the foot of the stairs, softly knelt down, or prostrated themselves with their faces on the pavement. Just as did the wise men from the east, “ when they saw the young child with Mary his mother, they fell down and worshipped him.” Not a tread or whisper was heard ; only occasionally a half-suppressed groan from some sorrowing heart. For a while I watched these pilgrims surrounding the altar as if by stealth. Poor ragged men and women, and others of princely wealth, with gaudy, flowing robes ; some praising, some sorrowing and weeping over their sins ; all around the same shrine. Some travellers approach the altar with their heads full of arguments against the identity of the place. I had no disposition to profane it with such calculations. Not the spot or the star was the object of worship, but 324 CELL or ST. JEROME. Jesus born in Bethlehem, God manifest in the flesh born a helpless babe and nursed by a human mother, Mho fondled and pressed Him to her bosom as other mothers do their children ! And then the thought that for more than 1700 years, multitudes have come down here from all parts of the world, and dropped tears of sorrow and tears of joy around this spot, many of whom are now in heaven, and others who have failed to get there, — all this fills the heart with emotions which can only be satisfied in prayer. And I should feel sorry had I not with penitence and contrition called upon the Saviour at that consecrated shrine, and thanked him from a full heart for having been born in Bethlehem. The monk led us through a narrow, winding, under¬ ground passage, into a small cave rudely hewn out of the rock, once the abode of St. Jerome, one of the most illustrious pilgrims that has ever knelt at this shrine. Here he lived, labored, meditated, and prayed for thirty years, at what he literally believed to be the cradle of the Christian religion. His celebrated Vulgate translation of the Scriptures, the only received version used by the Catholic Church, was issued from this little cell. Here the fire of his genius, which he brought from his Dalma¬ tian home, vented itself in a flood of letters, treatises, and commentaries, which alike terrified and enlightened the western world. In this little rock-chamber occurred his last communion and death, a scene which Domenichino has preserved to all the world in his celebrated painting in St. Peter’s. Often I had mused before it at Rome, watching his serene resignation, his frail fleshless frame almost seeming to tremble on the canvas, ready to sink over as he receives the Holy Communion at the hands of the priest, with a grateful mien which seems to say. BETHLEHEM. 325 ‘‘I am ready to depart.” His spirit has followed the Saviour to heaven, while his dust reposes in an adjoining cave. The Arabs now call the town Beit Lahm, House of Flesh,” whilst its ancient name, Bethlehem, means “ House of Bread,” which perhaps it derived from some of the fruitful grain -producing hills around it. The heaps of W'heat which grain-merchants had piled up in the streets were a fitting illustration of the name. When our Saviour was born here it became the “House of Bread” in a higher sense. For he says: “I am the living bread which came down from heaven : if any man eat of this bread he shall live forever.” John 6 : 51. It is about six miles from Jerusalem — only about two hours’ walk from where our Saviour was born to where he died and was buried. Bethlehem and Calvary — joy and sorrow, life and death — are never far apart in this world. The town is built on the crest of a small hill, surrounded by other hills. The whole is surrounded by a wall about thirty feet high, with a number of gates through which you enter it. “The fenced cities” of the Old Testament was only another expression for walled cities, and Beth¬ lehem was one of “the fenced cities of Judah.” 2 Chron. 12 : 4. Its present population is about four thousand, all belonging to the Greek Church. As it was little among the thousands (cities) of Judah, (Micah 5 : 2) it could hardly have had as many inhabitants in the days of Christ. It has always occupied an humble place in Hebrew history. The inhabitants now have the name of being a lawless, quarrelsome people, who are in the habit of rebelling against the government. Some of them live by farming small patches of the rocky country around the town, and from the fruit of the fig, pomegranate, 28 326 RUTH AND BOAZ. olive and vine, which cover some of the neighboring hills ; others live by carving events in the history of our Saviour on sea-shells, and other curious trinkets, which they sell to the pilgrims that visit Jerusalem during the Easter seasons. Some places around Bethlehem are always sown with grain, where Boaz, the great-grandfather of David, may have had his ‘‘field,” in which Ruth gleaned what his reapers had left. East of the town are green hills, whither the Bethlehemites still lead their fiocks and herds. Here possibly the little ruddy son of Jesse kept his father’s sheep when Samuel came to anoint him King over Israel, where he may have composed his beautiful Psalm of the Good Shepherd. Psalm 23 ; 2 Sam. 7. The country around is rough, even where it is not hilly ; the rocks rise above the surface. From some of these knobs Naomi could see the hills of Moab, the land of her bereavement, where she had buried Elimelech and her two sons. It is still a custom for poor women to glean after the reapers ; and the salutation, “ The Lord be with you,” which Boaz used when he met his reapers, and the greeting which he received in reply, are em¬ ployed to this day between proprietor and laborer in the East, in the precise words. The veiled women which I saw here reminded me of Ruth. Their veils are not the thin gauze of western countries, but are made of heavy cotton cloth, amply strong and large enough to carry “ six measures of barley.” Ruth 2, 3. Once David was sorely tried by thirst, and he ex¬ claimed : “ 0 that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate ! ” 2 Sam. 23 : 15. A well or spring not far from one of the modern gates would seem precisely to answer to this. THE INNS OF PALESTINE. 327 The general appearance of Bethlehem is like that of other towns in the East, — narrow, crooked streets, flat- roofed houses, mostly small, with fronts all walled up save a small door. It has no hotel or place of entertain¬ ment. The travellers who tarry here over night, usually lodge in the convent. Indeed no town in Palestine has a hotel except Jerusalem. Usually they have a khan, con¬ sisting of a large stone building, sometimes only partly roofed, put up either by the town’s people or the Govern¬ ment, in which strangers lodge — horses, mules, asses, and their masters, all in one common room. Provender is furnished for the animals, but no boarding for the travellers. The English version of the Bible calls these buildings inns. Such an inn was already at Bethlehem in the days of Jeremiah, built or owned by a man called Chimham, for the accommodation of travellers between Canaan and Egypt. Jer. 41 : 17. When Joseph and Mary came to Bethlehem to be taxed,” together with all “of the house and lineage of David,” — many hun¬ dred people — “there was no room for them in the inn.” The streets were crowded with strangers, and the cool night was coming on, where should they go ? Then, as now, there were caves in and around Bethlehem, as well as throughout the Holy Land. Most of them were old tombs, or rooms cut out of the rocks to put the dead in, with a hole before which a stone was rolled. Abraham buried Sarah in a “cave,” and Mary and Martha buried Lazarus in a “cave,” and the sepulchre of our Saviour was of the same kind. When the families who made or owned them had died out or moved to another place, these rock sepulchres would be left open and neglected, and often become the hiding-places of offenders and fugi¬ tives. Thus David, Elijah, and others, found refuge 328 THE MANGER. \ from their enemies in caves. During the winter, they are often used as stables to shelter cattle in ; for in this country you find no barns or stables as with us. Thus it happened that Joseph and Mary sought shelter in this cave under the church, then it would seem used as a stable, hut open to everybody. While here Mary “ brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling-clothes, and laid him in a manger.” Luke 2 : 7. How singular that our Saviour should both he born and buried in a ‘‘sepulchre hewn in the rock” ! Joseph and Mary had a long way to come (it is between ninety and a hundred miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem), over* rough, hilly roads, in winter and on foot. Most proba¬ bly they came over Jerusalem, as the road hither led that way. In sooth Bethlehem is a pretty little town. The peo¬ ple are evidently more industrious than is common in the East, and in spite of their bad name they leave a plea¬ sant impression upon your mind. Here and there I saw a half-grown hoy, lying under a tree or in the shadow of a vineyard wall, keeping a few sheep or goats, like so many little Davids. Venerable men, with flowing grey beards, evermore call to your mind good old Jesse. Flocks of pigeons flew over the town, such as Mary, like all poorer Jews, was permitted to oifer up as a sacrifice. Luke 2 : 24. The stars over Bethlehem seem to twinkle more brightly than those over other towns. When at Jerusalem I would often look at them of a night, and think that it was there that the “ star stood over where the young child was,” — the same which guided hither the wise men from the East. The grass here seems more fresh and green than elsewhere, though it grows upon rocks. Even the little hill on which our Saviour was ANCIENT TEKOAH. 329 born, looks more favored than many other hills of Judea. Pretty, pure white flowers bloomed around the edge of it, which I was glad to hear them call “ the Star of Bethle¬ hem.” Never, after the Saviour’s birth, is Bethlehem mentioned in connection with his history. To have been the birth-place of the Son of God, was enough alone to render its name immortal. The ground around it is full of stones, and much of it is unflt to farm ; and yet it is worth more, and has been more highly honored, than any other spot on earth. Not in Babylon, Damascus, Alex¬ andria, or Rome; not even in Jerusalem, but in little Bethlehem of Judea Jesus Christ was born. Some six or eight miles from Bethlehem heaps of crumbling ruins still mark the site of ancient Tekoah. There was the home of Amos, who was among the herd- men of Tekoah,” where the Lord took him as he ‘‘fol¬ lowed the flock,” and sent him to prophesy unto Israel. Amos 1:1; 7 : 15. There he foretold the “ famine of hearing the words of God,” which at present curses the Promised Land. 8 : 11. When shall the children of Abraham again “build the waste cities and inhabit them ; and plant vineyards and drink the wine thereof; and make gardens and eat the fruit thereof;” and be planted in their land no more to be pulled up ? 9 : 14, 15. There, amid clifiy gorges, is the cave of Adullum, where David hid himself from Saul under the earth; where “ every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him; and he became a captain over them : and there w^ere with him about four hundred men.” 1 Sam. 22 . 1, 2. In this dreary hiding-place he poured out his soul in psalms which have comforted the distressed of all Christian ages. 28 * 330 Rachel’s tomb. “ In the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, Until these calamities be overpast. I will cry unto God most high, Unto God that performeth all things for me. #•••••••** I cried unto the Lord with my voice ; With my voice unto the Lord did I make my supplu ations, I poured out my complaint before him: I shewed before him my trouble. When my spirit was overwhelmed within me: Then Thou knewest iny path.’* Ps. 57 and 142. On our way to Jerusalem, about ten minutes from Betble- nem, we came to the tomb of Rachel. The structure cannot lay claim to very great antiquity, and the original pillar is of course gone, but the spot has been hallowed by two incidents of bitter bereavement. Jacob was on his way from Bethel to Hebron, where old Isaac was still living. When “ there was but a little way to Bethlehem,” Rachel gave birth to her youngest son^ and dying, ‘‘she called his name Ben-oni (son of sorrow) : but his father called him Benjamin. And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave : that is the pillar of Rachel’s grave unto this day.” Gen. 35. The aged Jacob, just before his death in Egypt, narrates to Joseph the sad incident of his mother’s death. “And, as for me, when I came from Padan, Rachel died by me in the land of Canaan, in the way, when yet there was hut a little way to come unto Ephrath ; and I buried her there in the way of Eph¬ rath, the same is Bethlehem.” Gen. 48 : 7. I dismounted and walked around the hallowed spot, which is marked by a small building, with a white-washed dome. Within is an oblong monument of brick, stuccoed over. The place is somewhat solitary, without a tree to shade it, THE CONVENT OF ELIJAH. 331 but the dust of Jacob’s lovely wife, for whom he patiently labored fourteen years, imparts a sacredness in spite of its forbidding surroundings, where Moslem, Jew, and Christian vie to show respect and admiration for the vir¬ tuous wife. The Turks are anxious that their ashes may rest near her’s, as many of their graves around her simple tomb show. Not far from Rachel’s tomb is a heap of rubbish and ruins, which many identify with Ramah. When Herod slew all the children of Bethlehem, after Mary and Joseph had fled with Jesus to Egypt, then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying: In Ramah was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.” Matt. 2 : 17, 18. On an elevation about an hour from Jerusalem, we passed the convent of Elijah. It stands on the highest point between Bethlehem and the city. Mulberry gar¬ dens and vineyards around it, give it a cheerful aspect. Along the north of the Bethlehem road a stony and uneven plain, sloping down gradually toward the west, spread out before us, waving with a heavy crop of wheat. This is “the Valley of Rephaim,” where David smote the Philistines. 2 Sam. 5. Across the ridge he fetched “ a compass behind them ; ” and when he heard “ the sound of a going in the tops of the mulberry trees,” the Lord smote the host of the Philistines. A great part of this valley has been purchased by the Greek Christians at Jerusalem, who are replanting it with mulberry trees. Thus its ancient features may, in a few years, be restored airain. The distance between Bethlehem and Jerusalem is about five miles. Near the road a man was ploughing. 832 THE OX-GOAD. •who flew into a terrible rage about something, and vented it on his oxen, goading them lustily. One of them threw itself on the ground, moaning pitifully, hut his fury was incapable of pity. The goad is a stick five or six feet long, with a pointed iron prick at the lower end, with w'hich they guide and goad the ox. The other end has a sharp chisel, and is used to clean the share, and to cut the roots and briars that choke it. When the poor, unruly animal is pricked with the pointed end, it often kicks, as in this case, whether from pain or anger, by which it inflicts on itself fresh wounds. The image is applied to Saul of Tarsus, who stubbornly persisted to oppose the urging of God’s Spirit and Providence. The Lord calls to him on his w^ay to Damascus : “ It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks,” [goads]. Acts 9 : *5. “ The words of the wise are as goads.” Eccle. 12 : 11. In the hands of a strong, valiant man, it can be used with deadly effect. Shamgar slew six hundred Philistines with an ox-goad. Judges 3 : 31. The Philistines allowed the He¬ brews no smiths, lest they would make them swords and spears, but only files to sharpen their goads and other farming implements. 1 Sam. 13 : 21. Strolling over Mount Zion one day, we came to the leper’s quarters near the Zion gate. A set of miserable beings cried to us from afar, so revoltingly disgusting that I felt like turning aw^ay with a shudder. Their faces are brown, blotched, and bloated, with a scalded com¬ plexion ; some are without eyes, others without nose, fingers, or hands. Some had their hands half eaten off ; others without hair, deformed beyond description. Their voices gurgled and screeched through palateless throats, and articulated with tongues decayed to a mere stump, with most inhuman and unearthly sounds. Like the ten LAWS CONCERNING LEPERS. 338 lepers that came to Jesus, they stood afar off, lifted up their voices ” and cried for mercy. Luke 17. A more miserable set of beings I have never seen. They seem to undergo gradual decomposition before they die. Their fingers and limbs drop off joint after joint, till naught but a mere stump is left. And no effort is made to heal up or apply a remedy to the diseased parts. Just as Isaiah has it : “ From the sole of the foot even unto the head, there is no soundness in it ; but wounds and bruises, and putrifying sores ; they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment.” Isaiah 1 : 6. The laws of Moses respecting leprosy were exceedingly stringent. To avoid touching others, “ the leper in whom the plague is, his clothes shall be rent, and his head bare, and he shall put a covering upon his upper lip, and shall cry. Unclean, unclean.” Lev. 13 : 45. He was put out of the camp. His garments and house were declared unclean, and everything he touched. Those Arabs that dwell in tents, still literally put the leper out of the camp. “ He is unclean ; he shall dwell alone, without the camp shall his habitation be.” Lev. 13 : 46. No healthy person will touch them. In Jerusalem they have a separate quarter assigned them, reeking with filth unspeakable. Outside the Jaffa gate they lingered by the wayside, and cried most pitifully for help, but always stood afar off.” Nothing short of the miraculous power of God can cure the leprosy. When Naaman applied to the King of Israel to be cured of his leprosy, ‘‘ he rent his clothes and said. Am I Crod, to kill and to make alive, that this man doth send unto me to recover a man of his leprosy?” 2 Kings 5. One of the strongest proofs of Christ’s Divinity was, that by Him “ the lepers are cleansed.” 334 THE LEPROSY. In the 13th and 14th chapters of Leviticus we have a full description of its symptoms and phases, and of the laws concerning it. This description portrays the leprosy of the present day, in all its pitiful details. It perpetu¬ ates itself from parent to child. The new-born infant has a smooth skin, apparently free from it. Presently “ a scab or bright spot ” faintly appears, and the leprous virus spreads and grows with its growth. ‘‘ The hair falls from the head and eyebrows ; the nails loosen, de¬ cay, and drop off ; joint after joint of the fingers and toes shrink up, and slowly fall away. The gums are absorbed, and the teeth disappear. The nose, the eyes, the tongue, and the palate are slowly consumed, and finally the wretched victim sinks into the earth and disappears, while medicine has no power to stay the ravages of this fell disease, or even to mitigate sensibly its tortures.” With some persons it is not hereditary ; in such cases it is still regarded as the direct result of the curse of God for some sin. ^ So it was in the case of Miriam, Gehazi, and Uzziah, who were smitten with leprosy for their offences against God. Numbers 12 : 10 ; 2 Kings 5 : 27 ; 2 Chron. 26 : 20. Of all the numerous diseases which flesh is heir to, I can conceive of none so loathsome as this. Its victim is excluded from all that can make affliction endurable. Shunned by all, his case excites horror and disgust rather than commiseration. He must have food, but his pestilential touch deprives him of honest labor to procure it. He sees others around him with the smooth joyous flush of health, but they move in another world, from which he is wholly cut off. His creaking wailings for bread only excite a shudder. The very money he begs becomes worthless in his leprous hands, so that others dread its touch and fear to receive END OF THE LEPER. 335 it. If he seek relief in Religion, he is shut out from mosque, synagogue, and church. There is no religious fellowship with a leper. None but his fellow lepers come to his dying couch, and when he expires they will call him blessed for having ended his miserable existence here, whatever may become of him hereafter ; while they have to die piecemeal for a while longer, as one joint and member after another decays away. 336 POPULATION OF JERUSALEM. CHAPTER XIV. SniiBiilfra — — .Sahm. The whole population of Jerusalem is estimated at from twelve to fifteen thousand. Of these there are . about four thousand Christians ; as many Jews ; and the rest are Mohammedans. Each of these are confined to separate quarters of the city. The Christian quarter extends along the western part ; the Jews occupy the northeast¬ ern part of Mount Zion, which embraces the greater part of it within the wall ; the Mohammedans live in the mid¬ dle and lower part. Each of these forms a distinct, exclusive community, with all the mutual hatred and antagonism which has ever distinguished them. It is said that no Jew is allowed to enter the Church of the Sepulchre. Neither Jew nor Christian is allowed to enter the mosques of Omar and El-Aksa. Then the Jews and Christians are split up into bitter parties among them¬ selves. The present population of Jerusalem is a com¬ pound of the most conflicting and incoherent elements, hating, and being hated, with all their might. The Armenian quarter is on the western side of Zion, and their church and convent near its gate. The former is a magnificent edifice. The walls inside are overlaid with polished china tiles, and much of its ornamenting is of gold. It contains a heavy gilded chair, reputed to A DANGEROUS DIGNITY. 337 have belonged to St. James, the first Bishop of Jerusa¬ lem. From the roof of the convent we had a charming view of the environs of the citj. The Armenian Patri¬ arch, an old, grey -bearded man, sat behind a counter, in a large hall, receiving money. Envy and lust for money render bis place and life very precarious. It is said that none of his predecessors, for many years, have died a natural death. Attempts have been made to poison the present venerable incumbent. He mistrusts his own servants, and only receiv'es food from his most trust¬ worthy and confidential friends. This convent has about six hundred inmates, and during the present Easter festi¬ val is said to have entertained six thousand pilgrims. The Jews are nearly all foreigners. The most of them are from Spain and Turkey ; some from Russia, Poland, and Germany. They show little of that cunning shrewd¬ ness in traflSc for which their nation has become so famous in other countries. Many are the most abject specimens of poverty and filth. They have come hither to die in the land of their fathers, and be buried in the valley of Jehoshaphat ; beyond this they have little concern. A. large part of these are supported by collections and by the contributions of wealthy Jews from different quarters of the globe. This fosters their reckless, do-nothing spirit. Early one morning a Jew led us to their synagogues, where his brethren were offering their morning devotions. By far the filthiest part of Jerusalem is this Jewish quarter — a perfect Augean stable, — where slaughter¬ houses and heaps of rotten rubbish reek, and fill the air with sickening stenches. We entered a synagogue, where a rabbi was seated on a divan, expounding the law to a little congregation around him. He spoke very rapidly ; 29 w 338 JEWISH WORSHIP. occasionally some of his hearers would exclaim, La, la, la,” (no, no, no,) whether by way of assent or dissent, 1 do not knew. On a gallery I noticed white-veiled women, behind a trellised screen, peeping through the holes down upon the worshippers, as if they had to get their religion by stealth. The Grand Patriarch, a venerable, hoary man, was seated on a raised platform, with several rabbis around him. ' When he rose to leave, at the end of the service, a number of them kissed his hand in token of reverence. At another synagogue we found them singing the Psalms of David. Each seemed to sing on his own hook, without regard to sound or harmony — producing a dis¬ sonant and most unmelodious noise. One of their num¬ ber, a Prussian, remarked to me that they were the only genuine, orthodox Jews in Jerusalem. We keep the old Mosaic Law ; all the others are modern Jews, that have a law of their own making.” A literal Pharisee, doubtless, deserving to be classed with the “ straightest sect ” of the ancients. His less-zealous brethren may be Sadducees, Jewish Rationalists, who put a more liberal construction upon the Law. At the western exterior side of the wall around the tem¬ ple area, toward the southern end of it, are large stones near the base of the wall, dressed after the manner of ancient building stones, which the Jews and many others suppose to have been in the walls of the ancient temple. Some of them purchase the right to approach this spot and bewail the fall and desolation of their nation and temple, from which it derives the name of “Wailing place of the Jews.” Every Friday afternoon, the evening be¬ fore their Sabbath, they come hither to perform this THE EXILED JEWS. 339 melancholy service, in the secluded narrow alley that runs along the outside of the wall. After the capture of Jerusalem by Hadrian, the Jews were entirely excluded from the city. In the reign of Constantine they were permitted to get a distant glimpse of it from neighboring hills, but could approach no nearer. Finally the Eoman soldiers sold them the privilege to enter the city once a year, on the anniversary of its capture by Titus, to wail over the ruins of the temple. Subsequently this privilege was extended, though some¬ times they bought it at enormous prices. On a Friday afternoon we threaded the narrow streets which leaj to this place. Near it is a Moslem judgment- hall, with a verandah overlooking the whole scene, and from here we witnessed their pitiful ceremonies. About sixty or seventy Jews had collected there, two-thirds of them women, dressed and veiled in white linen. Here and there small groups stood near the wall, listening to old men with flowing grey beards, who sat on the ground reading lamentations to the rest ; some were swinging their bodies and smiting their breasts in token of grief, with their faces toward the wall ; others wailed and wept; some of the women kissed the stones; all muttered half-suppressed wailings, some even with tears, praying still as their fathers had done for centuries before : “ Be not wroth very sore, 0 Lord, neither remember iniquity forever : behold, see, we beseech thee, we are all thy people. Thy holy cities are a wilderness, Zion is a wil¬ derness, Jerusalem a desolation. Our holy and our beau¬ tiful house, where our fathers praised thee, is burned up with fire: and all our pleasant things are laid waste.” Isaiah 64 : 9-11. The burden of Jeremiah’s lamentation was literally 340 JEKUSALEM LAMENTED. before us : Therefore he made the rampart and the wall to lament ; they languished together. Her gates are sunk into the ground ; he hath, destroyed and broken her bars. The elders of the daughter of Zion sit upon the ground and keep silence ; they have cast up dust upon their heads.” Lamentations 2. In their own city, once the ‘‘joy of the whole earth, the perfection of beauty,” the centre of their worship, the dwelling place of the Most High, and the type of the “Jerusalem above,” they sneak to their synagogues like slaves and prisoners, while their hateful rulers pass them by with scowling contempt. Their Holy of Holies, with its officiating High Priest, trembling with awe, is trodden upon by the profane feet of their foes. Their altar is ruined, and the grateful incense no longer curls heavenward at their morning and evening sacrifices. The voice of their sweet singers has been hushed, and the immense festive multitudes that crowded around the temple, come no longer up hither. The heavenly fire that kindled their offerings, has been extinguished. “ The Lord hath cast off his altar, he hath abhorred his sanctuary, he hath given up into the hand of the enemy the walls of her palaces.” The din and noise of the crowds of Moslems in the Mosque of Omar, on Fridays and festival days, reminds them of their own festivals. “ They have made a noise in the house of the Lord, as in the day of a solemn feast.” “ Our inlieriU ance is turned to strangers^ our houses to aliens. We have drunken our water for money ; our wood is sold to us. Our fathers have sinned, and are not ; and we have borne their iniquities.” Lamentations 5. And while they endure this, their chuckling tyrants “ wag their head at the daughter of Jerusalem, saying : Is this the city that men call The perfection of beauty. The joy of the whole ANCIENT VAULT. 341 earth?” Lamentations 2 : 15. This the poor Jew has borne for eighteen centuries. For more than six hundred long years he has kissed these stones in the wall, and cried sorrowfully to his God : How long shall the land mourn?” A more touching and impressive spectacle than these lamenting Jews can nowhere be found. While watching their lamentations, a few turtle-doves familiarly walked in the holes of the wall right above them, and but a few rods from where the ancients used to sacrifice them on the temple altar. Luke 2 : 24. Walking along the southern end of the city, an English gentleman directed my attention to a hole in the wall about ten feet from the ground. Seeing no Turkish sen¬ tinels about, we climbed up and looked through the small holes of the wooden screen that covered it. Inside was a vault with nine or ten large columns, which we faintly discerned by the aid of a few cracks at the opposite end. It is well knowm that during the Hebrew dominion of Jerusalem, the priests were in the habit of going to the pool of Siloam in procession, to bring water to the tem¬ ple. This vault ranges with the temple and the lower pool of Siloam, and is naturally regarded by some as identical with this ancient passage. The general appearance of the houses in Jerusalem is like that of most other oriental towns. Usually the front presents a solid wall, very rarely with windows, and these mostly have lattice-work over them instead of glass. A small door, with a wooden latch, admits you to the inte¬ rior court, around which are the rooms for the family. A stairway leads to the flat roof, sometimes with a sinal. round dome in the centre. Many of the rooms and houses are roofed with thick arched walls, to exclude the heat in summer. Almost every house has a cistern to supply it 29* 342 BAZAARS IN JERUSALEM. with water. Besides these there are the large pools and cisterns in various parts of the city. The bazaars are pretty much in the centre of the city. All the business and trade of Jerusalem is collected here. Ordinarily this is trifling enough. When the city is thronged with pilgrims during the Easter festival, the bazaars are crowded. But all commerce and street bustle vanishes with these. Its trafiic and streets know no Sab¬ bath rest. Jerusalem, like all Eastern cities, has three Sabbath-days every week, — Friday, Saturday, and Sun¬ day ; hut they differ little from her other days. Including the pilgrims, there must have been from 25,000 to 30,000 people in Jerusalem when I was there. At some of the Jewish feasts there were hundreds of s thousands present. Under the governorship of Cestius there were over two millions and a half present at a Pass- over festival. Of course a great part of these must have dwelt in tents without the city walls. When the moun¬ tains round about Jerusalem ” were peopled with these immense festive throngs, with the city and temple in the centre, sending up clouds of sacrificial incense, while all prayed with their faces towards it ; when on the hill-tops they caught the anthem peals of the sweet singers in the temple, and rolled back a responsive tide of praise, the whole must have been a scene of enrapturing interest. Most of the towns and villages of Judea were on hill¬ tops, but Jerusalem w^as pre-eminently so. Its situation is on the edge of one of the highest table-lands of Palestine. Hebron is a few hundred feet higher, so that the approach from this direction is by a slight descent. But from every other side you approach it by an ascent. To the travel¬ ler it must always have appeared as a mountain city, whose pure bracing air contrasted pleasantly with the MOUNTAIN STRONGHOLDS. 343 miasmatic atmosphere of Jericho and with the dead plain of Damascus. It was “ the mountain throne,” the moun¬ tain sanctuary of God.” “ His foundation is in the holy mountains.^^ Ps. 87 : 1. “ The hill of God is as the hill of Bashan ; an high hill as the hill of Bashan. This is the mountain which God delighteth to dwell in.” Ps. 68 : 15-16. Prom this mountain elevation Israel looked out upon the world. It was “ the mountain of the Lord’s house,” — established on the tops of the mountains,' ' — exalted above the hills" — ‘‘to which all nations should go up." Isa. 2. When “the Lord had a controversy with his people,” it was to he “ before the mountains and the hills," and “ the strong foundations of the earth.” Micah 6 : 1, 2. “Whither the tribes go up," “the hills from whence cometh my help.” Ps. 121, 122. These are all metaphors taken from the elevated position of Jerusa¬ lem and Zion, where God had his dwelling-place. These heights and depths of Jerusalem, (the mountain on which it is built, and the wells and the vaults under it,) are beautifully symbolical of the incomprehensible heights and depths of Him who made it His ancient abode. This mountain culminated in the highest point of the city; the “stronghold of Zion, the same is the city of David.” Here the Jebusites defied him from their strong fortress, with its “everlasting gates,” which had never * opened to an enemy. Hitherto the Jews had dwelt out¬ side of Jerusalem. They had captured almost every pro¬ vince of Canaan ; but here was a clan in a fort which seemed to mock every attempt of Jewish invaders. Joshua, Deborah, Samuel, Saul, and David, must often have passed in sight of it, and gazed on its towers. After the destruction of Shiloh, the worship of Israel was conducted at Nob on the northern summit of Olivet, in sight of Jeru- 844 VICISSITUDES OF THE HOLY CITY. Salem. Here, in sight of this unconquered stronghold ’* of Jehus, they worshipped during the earlier years of Saul. Here David stopped in his flight from Saul, and received hallowed bread from Ahimelech the priest. 1 Sam. 21. Finally, after he was anointed King over Israel at Hebron, he took the city, and dwelt in the fort.” 2 Sam. 5. Ever afterward' Jerusalem remained the capital of the Hebrew nation, and the centre of their worship. It was demolished by the Babylonians 4T7 years later. Then it was successively taken by Shishak, King of Egypt, Nebuchadnezzar, Antiochus, Pompey, Sosius, Herod, and finally by Titus, in the reign of Vespasian. Adrian having destroyed it, built a new town, which, for several centuries, went by the name of .®lia. Con¬ stantine restored its ancient name, and adorned it with splendid churches and other edifices. Then began the pilgrimages thither from all parts of Christendom ; mil¬ lions upon millions since then have knelt around the Holy Sepulchre. The city has passed through checkered and trying vicissitudes for the last 1400 ye^rs. The Persians took it with a great slaughter. In 614 it was sacked and plundered, and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre burned. In 636 it was captured and totally taken from the Christians by the Caliph Omar. From this on we know little about its history until 1099, when the Crusades began. After many hundred thousand Crusaders had perished by pestilence, famine, and the Moslems, they got possession of the city. In 1187, the Mohammedans recaptured it, after being under Christian dominion for less than one hundred years. The red crescent flag of the Turk still floats over the Tower and City of David. It has now existed about 4000 years. During this period, it has shared largely in the world’s eventful history, — and the end Is not yet ! ” FUTURE OF JERUSALEM. 345 It would require a prophet’s ken to surmise what part Jerusalem will be likely to act in the future history of the world. Apparently it is an insignificant inland town. It has neither population nor commerce to give it im¬ portance. It is thirty miles from the sea-coast, too far for commercial purposes. A great part of its inhabitants are non-producing monks and indolent Jews. Yet every first and second-rate government must have its represent¬ ative in Jerusalem. England, Austria, Prussia, France, Russia, the United States, all have their consuls here. The city itself, apart from its history and peculiar rela¬ tions to the religious world, does not deserve all this attention. Evidently there" is a growing interest drifting toward Jerusalem, which causes nations to turn their eyes thither ; for what purpose the future will show. My last act in Jerusalem w'as another brief visit to Gethsemane on the morning of our departure. I hur¬ ried out the St. Stephen’s gate, down the hill and across the Kedron, and paused a few moments in the Chapel of the Virgin Mary. A flight of stairs, consisting of sixty steps, led me dowm into a dark basement, where flicker¬ ing festoons of lamps hung over head. Though early in the morning, a goodly number of persons were already there, singing and praying with apparent devotion. An earnest rap at the heavy little gate of Gethsemane, soon brought the monk with his large key, and a smiling ^^Bonjour^ monsieur.'* I meditated awhile under the trellised vine, and read the narrative of the Saviour’s agony wdth much comfort, and called upon him for needed grace to be faithful to him. As I rose to leave, the monk plucked a small bunch of roses for me, and then I hastened hack to the city. For several days before our departure it was rumored 346 TOMBS OF THE KINGS. that the Arab tribes between Jerusalem and Nablous were about to engage in battle, and that it would be very unsafe to start on a journey. Travellers were fearful of ven¬ turing through here at such a time, and with good reason. Finally, at the advice of the English consul, we concluded to make the trial. We had hired the animals and muleteers to take us clear through to Beirutr At half past ten w^e mounted our horses, kissed the hand toward our host, Antonio, and rode up the Way of Sorrow for the last time. With diflSculty we worked our way along the crowded bazaars and out the Jaffa gate. Lepers cried after us ^‘from afar” along the wayside. The owner of our horses took formal leave of us, by kissing our hands, and asking us to be kind to his brother, who was going along. We rode around the northern end of the city, past a heap of ashes, supposed to have been poured down from the wall of the ancient city. We felt desirous to visit the Tombs of the Kings, a short distance north of the city, and dismounted for that purpose ; but, looking through the low door into a dark chamber, it occurred to us that we had neglected to bring lights along. There are many tombs of this kind in the neighborhood ot Jerusalem, of a great variety of sizes and shapes. Some of them are, doubtless, still buried with rubbish. Some are single graves, hewn out of the rock ; others consist of a chamber, entered by a door, with several niches or shelves to put the dead in ; others have a series of chambers, with their shelves. The doors of some consist of a round stone, shaped somewhat like a millstone, set upright in a groove, in which it can be rolled to the door without much effort, yet perhaps too much for females to perform. So Joseph, after he had laid our Saviour “in his own new tomb, hewn out in a rock ; he rolled a great ROCK CISTERNS. 347 stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.” Matt. 27 : 60. ‘‘And the women, going to the sepulchre, said to one another. Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the sepulchre ? ” Mark 16:3. This country, especially Judea, abounds with empty cisterns, cut out of the rocks — often called “pits” in the Scriptures. The open, uncovered mouth is several feet square, with nothing around it ; so that man and beast are constantly in danger of falling into them. “ Which of you shall have an ass or an ox fallen into a pit, and will not straightway pull him out on the sabbath- day ? ” Luke 14 : 5. Some have not been repaired or used for hundreds of years, and are without water, or perhaps half filled with mire. “ The dungeon ” or pit into which Jeremiah was put “ had no water, but mire ; so Jeremiah sunk into the mire.” Jer. 38 : 6. The jealous sons of Jacob cast Joseph “ into a pit : and the pit was empty ; there was no water in it.” Gen. 37 : 24. The dependent, leaky cisterns, which, different from the self-sufiicient flowing fountains, derive their water from the rains or pools — and then often cannot hold it — fur¬ nished Jeremiah with one of his most striking and in structive metaphors: “For my people have committed two evils ; they have forsaken me, the fouiitain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns — broken cisterns, that can hold no water.” Jer. 2 : 13. Perhaps our Sa¬ viour had these numerous pit-falls in his mind, into which the incautious footman is so liable to fall, when He said of the Pharisees : “ If the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.” Matt. 15 : 14. About three-quarters of an hour from the city wo reached a hill-top, supposed to be “ the sco'pus'' of Titus where he had his first view of Jerusalem. We turned 348 MIZPEH AND GIDEON. our horses to take a parting view of the most interesting of all earth’s cities. Her ruined and mournful aspect melted away in the distance, and again she looked ‘‘ beau¬ tiful for situation.” Here we take leave of the earthly Jerusalem, down-trodden, persecuted, ruined. ‘‘ Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; they shall prosper that love thee.” Soon may4he happy day come, when “ The ransomed of the Lord shall return, And come to Zion with songs, And everlasting joy upon their heads.^^ Isaiah 35 : 10. On a hill-top west of us we saw Mizpeh, where Samuel used to assemble the Israelites. 1 Sam. 7:5; 10 : 17. Between two and three hours from Jerusalem we passed ‘‘Gibeah of Saul” — a green hill spread over with olive trees. 1 Sam. 10 : 26 ; 2 Sam. 21 : 6. Half an hour further we reached another low hill, crowned with a few Arab hovels amidst clusters of olives, the site of Gibeon, where Joshua fought the five kings. In the heat of the battle the Lord cast down great stones from heaven upon his enemies. And when the evening came on, with the battle unfinished, Joshua bade Time to stop on its onward march, and tffb sun and moon ‘‘ hasted not to go down about a whole day. And there was no day like that be¬ fore it or after it.” Joshua 10. It was here that the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream and said: “Ask what I shall give thee.” And Solomon asked neither for long life, nor for riches, nor the life of his enemies ; but for “ understanding to discern judgment.” 1 Kings 3 : 4-14. According to an old custom, which allows no early start from Jerusalem, the Easter pilgrims still make Bir, near ancient Gibeon, their first stopping place on their Jacob’s dream. 3t9 homeward way, where the ruined walls of a convent have been converted into an inn,” for their accommodation. Their chief reason for stopping here, however, is the trv dition that Joseph and Mary “went a day’s journey” hither, where they sought Jesus, but twelve years old, “among their kinsfolk and among their acquaintance.” Luke 2 : 44. After a brief interval of repose in the shade of a crum¬ bling wall near a well, at this first halting place of the pilgrims, we proceeded to Bethel. A village on a hill, with still higher hills around it, at present bears this dis¬ tinguished name. It is at a distance of about fifteeti miles from Jerusalem. Rocks and heaps of stones every¬ where abound, interspersed with an occasional green spot of wheat or barley. The houses and ruins of the village cover an area of three or four acres. While the rest stopped outside, I rode through some of its crooked lanes to get a nearer view of the modern Bethelites. My ap¬ pearance created quite a sensation. Men and women stared at me, and a herd of children left their play and shouted “howaje, howaje,”and, of course, bucksheesh. An old Arab pointed me to the lower end of the town, where I found the massive ruins of a church, with walls ten feet thick. On one of the high hills east of Bethel Abraham pitched his tent, where he built an altar and called on the name of the Lord. Gen. 12 : 8. It was quite natural, amid such a profusion of stones, that Jacob should gather a few for his pillow, as he laid him down to rest one night on his way to Haran. Here he had his dream, and be held “ a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven : and behold the angels of God ascend¬ ing and descending on it.” Gen. 28. Afterward he re- 30 350 FIG PLANTATIONS. \ turned hither and built an altar, and called the place ‘‘Beth-el,” House of God.” Gen. 35 : 14, 15. Samuel came to Bethel once a year to judge the people. After the ten tribes had seceded, Jeroboam erected a golden calf here and led the people to commit idolatry. 1 Kings 12 : 28. Then Josiah destroyed its idols and altars, and burned upon them dead men’s bones from the sepul¬ chres. 2 Kings 23 : 15, 16. After leaving Bethel we came to large fig plantations, on steep, terraced hills, extending from top to base ; some of them were planted in regular rows, with pome¬ granates between them. They were unusually large — ■ from one to two feet in diameter. There is an early kind, that bears a large green fig, which in the south of Palestine ripens in April. They often have fruit be¬ fore leaves, especially the early kind. When the Sa¬ viour cursed the fig tree on Olivet, the time for the late figs had not yet come. The leaves on the tree gave Him the greater reason to expect fruit on it. Mark 11. I should infer from the thriving appearance of the fig tree, when in other soil, apparently better, it looks so dwarfish, that some are still in the habit to ‘‘ dig about it, and dung it.” Luke 13 : 8. We encamped at The well of the Thieves, in a grassy ravine, an hour and a half beyond Bethel. The hot day was followed by a cool, damp night, anything but agreeable to dwellers in tents. Our horses and Syrian muleteers have brought us greater comfort, but they lack the picturesque and poet¬ ical element of the Bedouins and their camels. The heavy chests and bales had to be lifted on the backs of the horses, for they had not been taught to kneel in re¬ ceiving their burdens. There was a great flourish of swords and guns among our Syrians to intimidate the THE PLAIN OF SALEM. 351 robbers, but it is to be feared that there was more show than real grit and courage among us. April 2\.st. — We continued our journey across in¬ terminable hills, and threaded their narrow valleys. In a few hours we passed out of Judea into Samaria. Shiloh, once the centre of Hebrew worship, we passed several hours to our right. 1 Sam. 1. The insecurity of the country made it unsafe to separate from the bag¬ gage and muleteers, and in this hilly region we could not always take them with us, so that we had to leave some interesting places unvisited. Hescending a steep stony hill, we came to the Khan el-Lubban, an old unshaded ruin. Near by was a copious fountain, around which the women of a neighboring village were washing. The stream was their wash-tub, and stones their washing machines, on Avhich they beat their garments. Other women were filling skins with water and conveying them home on donkeys, to the village of Lubban, about two miles off, which Robinson thinks is the Lebonah of the Bible. Judges 21 : 19. The fountain is at the end of a lovely plain about fifteen miles long, with luxuriant wheat-fields and pastur¬ age. Tradition says that this is the plain of Salem, whose King “ Melchizedek, the priest of the most high God, brought forth bread and wine” to Abraham on his return from battle. Gen. 14 : 18. Ileb. 7. On a neigh¬ boring mountain-top the tomb of a Mohammedan saint was embowered among a group of trees. Here and there an old rough-rinded olive stood on the plain. The Mohammedans seldom plant shade trees, save around the tombs of the revered dead. The villages here and else¬ where have rarely a tree to shade them. The intense heat of the sun had roasted the earth in the streets into 352 THE PURPLE LILY. deep dust, over which the visible air shook in quivering wavelets. Squalid Arab women and children were creep¬ ing and crouching around the little doors of their hovels, like mice around their boles. Nowhere but in their filthy pens have they shade to shelter them from the burning sun We found a large dark-purple lily here, and afterward in the plain of Jezreel, whose color and texture were of uncommon beauty. The large petal, with an exceedingly fine texture, and a 'soft gorgeously purple surface, re¬ sembled a very fine silk velvet. I tried to preserve specimens, but the color and rich gloss vanished when they faded. I have seen no allusion to it by other travellers, but it seems to me the Saviour must have had this in His mind when He spoke of the lily. “ Solomon in all his glory ” as well as other kings, great men and rich, were in the habit of wearing purple. The kings of Midian wore purple raiment. Judges 8j 26. Mordecai and the rich man wore it. And when the Jews wanted to mock our Saviour as their pretended King, they and the soldiers clothed Him with purple.” I take it that Christ must have had such a charming purple lily in view when he said : “ Consider the lilies of the field how they grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these.” Matt. 6 : 28, 29. THE PLAIN OF MUKHNA. 353 CHAPTER XV. Will nf Satnii — lamnrta. April ^Ist. — While the mountains of Judea are mostly conical, in Samaria they run in ridges and long chains, forming large fertile plains. The Judean hills are much harder to farm. The soil can only he kept on them by means of walls and terraces. Where these are gone, there is seldom anything but the bare limestone rocks. The mountains of Samaria are only used for pasturage. The large plains, with a soft rich soil free from rocks, are easily cultivated. Even in their present neglected condition, some of them appear as charming as a Para¬ dise. At noon we reached a hill-top overlooking the large plain of Mukhna. The view was most enrapturing. The broad valley, from two to three miles wide and ^ several hours long, was nestled between lofty hills. The 'whole of it was cultivated, a perfect sea of waving ver¬ dure, with, here and there, a white turban starting out of the wheat ; and awkward ploughmen goaded on their oxen, and others sowed their spring seed. Clumps of olive trees were thinly scattered along the foot of the mountain. Here and there a small mud-colored village hung on a hillock like a magnified wasp’s nest. The mountains of Ebal and Gerizim rose up into view with lofty prominence. Near their base was a small white 30 * X 354 Jacob’s well. mosque over the reputed grave of Joseph, close to the well of Jacob. We rode leisurely over this charming plain, viewing its fields and people, and musing over its history. Its products, as then seen, were barley, wheat, flax, and millet. At the mouth of a narrow vallev, connectinoj with the plain from the west, and formed by Ebal and Gerizim, was a small hill, like a heap of earth and stones, over and around the mouth of Jacob’s well. We crept and slid down through a small hole into a stone vault, which is perhaps fifteen or twenty feet long, arched over the mouth of the well. A large, loose stone is said to cover it, which we could not find for the other stones scattered over it. The well is now about seventv-five feet deep — “ the well is deep,” as the Samaritan woman told Jesus. Its quantity of water varies somewhat with the seasons of the vear. Standing on this elevation at the mouth of the well, Mr. M - told me to read the fourth chapter of John aloud. If this chapter had been written that week, the natural objects around the well could not have corres¬ ponded more perfectly with its contents. The top of Mount Gerizim was in sight, a mile or two off, where the Samaritans, then as now, worshipped round a common altar. They held that only those who worshipped here could be saved, and the Jews said: “In Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship.” Although Christ told the woman, that salvation is of the Jews, He pointed her to the Catholic spiritual worship of the Gospel, which would neither be confined to Jerusalem nor Gerizim. Sitting at the well, we may imagine Him pointing to the Samaritan altar right above on Gerizim, when He said: “^Yoman, believe me, the hour cometh — — ^ r* t- * y - 8^5 Tz.eii s^Lall n.ei::ii€r in iki^ monn'aim nor Tet: i;i Jem- m 9 silem. virszin ine- Fiiner . When the me '^zr- 'hfrpem sii-LlI '^er^hin thie Fitner in spirit and in tm:n: lor tne Fitner seekeeh eneh to vorshin Him.** jwir- :e pin; ye nsd i complete Tte^ of enr eleT^tei poertioim A gentle yind b’ey a-rr^oss rnFm r green ya^ee 'OVer tne top- Tiie yheat yis jnst turning yhite, and the barlej y-is fast ripenitg. Fn;-igh the haryeet yas appntachinr. stme were spying the spying or snrnmer see^L Jost such a scene spread ont to the Saviour's viey. yhen he restei himseii on the sP'«ot yhere I stood- ** SaT nos ve. There are vet four ^ • • • months- and then e^omech harvest t be'nolA I sav nnto vou, lift nr VO nr eves- and I:ok on the helds ; for thev are X. m m ‘ m yhite alreadv to harvest. And he that reapeth reeeiveth yiges- and gatheret'n fmit nnto life eternal : that both he that iiJTetA and he that r^tjepfztk may rejoice together. Ann herein is that saving tme. One soyech and another reapeth." John A The FtAe valley yhich runs into the plain here is the ancient vale of Sheehem. abont 500 vards wide at its zreatest yiith. This yas Abraham's first halting ... V. place when he came from Haran. Here Canaan was first promised to his seed bv the Lord, and here **he bunded an altar." Gen. 12 : 7. Jacob pitchevi his tent here yhen he eame from Padan-aram- and he bouirht a parcel of a field where he had spread his tent (before the ettr . This “field" doubtless means the lariie fruitful 9 Tallev of which Sheehem is onlv a small arm. Gen. m m So : lS-20. In t: is “field'" before the citv, Jacob con- tinned to pasture his fiocks. When he had pitchevi his tens as Hebron, h‘s sons “ went to feevi their father"s fi'X*i in Sheehem." and he sent Joseph to see whether it 356 JESUS AT THE WELL. was well with them. Gen. 37. This fruitful dale was Joseph’s portion, whose present productiveness well cor¬ responds with the eloquent description Jacob gave it, when bestowing his dying blessing upon his illustrious son. ‘‘And the bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out of Egypt, buried they in Shechem, in a parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor, the father of Shechem, for an hundred pieces of silver.” Joshua 24^: 32. According to Acts 7 : 15—16, the brethren of Joseph (fathers) were likewise brought from Egypt and buried here. Ten minutes from the well a little white-washed stone mosque marks his grave. The most interesting incident connected with this region is that of Jesus at the well with the Samaritan woman. Walking up over this long plain, on his way from Judea to Galilee, through the hot sun, for it was mid-day, “ being wearied with his journey,” he sat on the stone border which rose around the well, waiting until the disciples should bring meat from the city. He was dry, but he had neither cord nor vessel to draw up water. Just then a Samaritan woman came from a neighboring village or “ city ” to fetch water. To give a stranger a drink was a sacred duty which only the most unfeeling could withhold. When Rebekah gave a drink to Abra¬ ham’s servant, she performed but an ordinary act of kindness. Gen. 24 : 18. But the bitter hatred between the Jews and Samaritans had reached such a pitch, that the woman was surprised to be asked for a drink by one who was a Jew. The Jews looked upon a “ Samaritan” as incapable of a good act, and deserving of contempt; hence they had no dealings with the Samaritans. The old spirit of hatred and jealousy was kept in a constant flame by their rival altars and the intermediate position THE ROUTE THROUGH SAMARIA. 357 of Samaria, between Judea and Galilee. Every Jew wishing to pass from Judea to Galilee, or the reverse, like the Saviour, ‘‘must needs go through Samaria,” the despised country, or cross the Jordan and go up by way of Jericho to Jerusalem. This latter route most of the Galileans going to the festivals at Jerusalem took in our Saviour’s time. They crossed the Jordan on the north, came down on the other side, and recrossed opposite Jericho. This way Jesus came on his last journey to the Holy City. The Jews were willing to endure the greater distance of this route, and the trouble of twice fording the river, only so as to avoid their hated and, to them, unclean rivals. The wells of Palestine are interesting monuments of sacred antiquity. Wrought out of the solid limestone, they become permanent monuments, which are rarely obliterated. They are the only surviving links, made with hands, which connect us with the remote patriarchal age. This well is ascribed to Jacob ; it was so in our Saviour’s day. It is connected with the earliest and latest events in sacred history. About a mile from the well of Jacob, is Nablous, in the vale of Shechem. This vale is formed by two moun¬ tains, Gerizim and Ebal, which rise high above it, here about three-quarters of a mile in width. On these two mountains the curses and blessings were read by the Levites, after the Hebrews had taken possession of Ca¬ naan : “ Half of them over against mount Gerizim, and half of them over against mount Ebal ; as Moses the ser¬ vant of the Lord had commanded before, that they should bless the people.” Deut. 27, 28; Joshua 9 : 33. Many large olive trees are scattered over the grassy vale. In this narrow valley was the Hebrew multitude; right above 358 MOUNT GERIZIM. / them, on either side, were the Levites reading blessings and curses in tones of ringing and reverberating empha¬ sis. A place precisely suited for such a ceremony, as Moses doubtless knew when he selected it. The vale pro¬ duces a strange echo. What a scene ! Above stood the Levites saying to all the men of Israel below, with a loud voice ; “ Cursed be he that setteth light by his father and his mother ; and all the people shall say Amen.” A ter¬ rific Amen ! Every curse rolled and repeated its clap¬ ping echoes athwart the vale ! “ Cursed shalt thou be in the city, and cursed in the field. Cursed shall be thy basket and thy store,” still followed by the tremendous Amen from the densely packed mass below. It was an assembly and a scene such as the world has never wit¬ nessed since or before. Deut. 27. When brave old Gideon had died, Abimelech his son slew all his brothers except Jotham, the youngest, who hid himself. Then he got him on this Mount Gerizim above the city, and told his grievances in the only parable we find in the Old Testament. The olive, fig, vine, and the bramble, still abound here. Ere the inhabit¬ ants of Shechem could get up to where he stood, Jotham “ ran away.” Judges 9. At the end of it we found Nablous, perhaps the ancient Shechem, a white city embowered among a profusion of trees ; with grass, rills, and larger streams dashing, rip¬ pling, and rolling through shaded channels. . But why should Jacob dig a well so near this nrofusion of springs ? These may then have belonged to another tribe ; and to avoid strife he dug one, for he had brought large flocks from his father-in-law, which required much water. We rode through the main street of bazaars, about three or four feet wide, with narrow, raised side-walks. NABLO US. 359 The town is more neatly arranged, and shows signs of greater thrift than Jerusalem. It stretches along the sloping base of Mount Gerizim, while opposite to it the bleak Mount Ebal rears its dreary head, reminding one still of the curses once pronounced upon it. We en¬ camped on an elevation north-west of the town, amid the shade of olive trees. A swarm of men, women, and children soon collected around our tents, with the usual amount of noise. The Sheikh of the Samaritans led us to the Samaritan synagogue. We found it toward the base of Gerizim, in the rear of the town. It is a small, plain edifice, whose only furniture consists of a few mats on the floor. We were requested to leave our shoes at the door — a custom invariably observed in the East, when entering a place of worship. They showed us their an¬ cient manuscript, containing the five books of Moses. It is written on a scroll, rolled up in a metallic frame. They say it was written by Abishua the grandson of Eliezer, the son of Aaron, and that it is 3460 years old. Their sect numbers 70 men, about 170 with women and children. The head or priest of this fragment of a nation says that their copy of the five books of Moses differs from that of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures. Among other things, he says they contain a commandment that an altar should be erected on Gerizim, but that Ezra altered this when he rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem. The Samaritans do not call themselves Jews since they derive their descent from Joseph the son of Jacob, instead of Juda. They maintain that the name “Samaritans” (Shomri) means “observers of the Divine Law,” and say that party-hate has made the world believe that it is derived from Shomron, the seal of the Kings of Israel. 360 SAMARITAN CUSTOMS. These are the only remaining Samaritans in the world ; the little relic of a once great and numerous nation. They are as tenacious of their faith and rites as if they still retained their ancient power. While the Jews are dispersed among all nations, these two hundred Samari¬ tans retain their ancient organization near their original place of worship, the smallest and oldest sect in the world. The little group which followed us into the syna¬ gogue had noble physiognomies, and a peculiarly pleasant expression of countenance. They are very strict in their ceremonies and practices of religion. Like the Jews, they keep Saturday for the Sabbath, when they have public prayers in their synagogue at morning, noon, and evening. On Friday evening they pray in their houses. They allow no labor or traffic on this day, not even cook¬ ing or kindling a fire, but rest from every kind of em¬ ployment the whole day. They also meet and worship in the synagogue on new moons and festival days, when the Law is read in public. Up along the side of Mount Gerizim is a winding path which they have worn going to their altar on the top to offer sacrifice. As the Jews pray with their faces to¬ ward Jerusalem, and the Moslems toward Mecca, the Samaritan always prays in the synagogue and house, with his face toward the altar on Gerizim. They observe the three Jewish feasts : the Feast of Passover, when they pitch their tents on the mountain all night, and sacrifice seven lambs at sunset ; the Feast of Pentecost, and the Feast of Tabernacles, during which they dwell in booths or tents made of branches and leaves of trees. They make three annual pilgrimages to this venerable shrine. As the procession starts from the synagogue, they begin reading the law going up the mountain side, and finish it PROWLING ARABS. 361 on the top. They cherish the bitterest hatred of the Jews, and charge them with departing from the Law in not keeping the Passover, and corrupting the sacred text. Xo one eats, drinks, or associates with a Jew, neither do they intermarry. The only dealings they have with each other is in trade. After we had returned to our tents, the Sheikh of the Samaritans told us that there was still a deep shaft at Jacob’s well, which we had not found before. I mounted mv horse, with an unloaded revolver to make the neces- sary show of courage, and rode back to it. Tethering the beast to a loose stone, I descended into the vault in search of the well. The heaps of stone, however, con¬ cealed it. Just then I bethought-me of the Arabs I had seen approaching the well before descending. These men of Shechem are notorious robbers, having, until late years, kept all travellers away from their valley. I^r. Prime of Xew York relates a shocking assault they made on his party when here, almost killing one of them. I felt a deep interest in this well, but deeper still in my safetv. Lookinor at the little hole through which I had crept down, I thought how easily* they might roll a few stones there and cork me into this sacred prison. I was not prepared for such a siege. Alas ! it is always so ; when we stand most in need of our courage, it forsakes us. I left the well with the water and shaft unexplored, and rode away from my suspicious neighbors, taking good care to show the empty revolver. As evening approached the chattering crowd of females and children around our tents increased. Some of the former were dressed in gay attire -without veils. They seemed much diverted with Mohammed’s cooking. While we had to attend to our usual mending duties, some stole 31 362 A MO II A SI MEDAN PIiaRlM. a peep tlirough the curtain door, to the great amusement of others. The Governor of Nablous sent us an invitation to visit him and partake of his hospitalities. But as such entertainments generally are more pleasant in ‘‘the breach than the observance” we respectfully declined; asking, however, for several soldiers to guard us while we slept. Three of these valiants shielded us from robbers, ' real and imaginary, and kept up a firing of guns through the night, to give. proof of their valor. That evening and the following morning, fifteen lepers, shockingly dis¬ figured, stood and crouched along the wayside above our tents, and whined pitifully for a gift. There is no help but death for these unfortunate beings. April 2,2d. — When we started this morning, a small procession escorted a prominent citizen on horseback to the outside of the city. He was setting out on a pil¬ grimage to Mecca, which every faithful Mohammedan feels bound to visit once in his lifetime, if possible. A short distance beyond our encampment he dismounted and took solemn, leave of his friends and neighbors, em¬ bracing and kissing each of them. His little ruddy bright-eyed boy caught him round the neck and wept bitterly. The Moslem seldom weeps, but he slyly wiped away the unbidden tear as he tore away from the em¬ braces of his child. Many a poor Moslem will spend the flower of his life to acquire means that he and his family may bow at the shrine of Mecca before they die. By taking his children with him when they are small, he saves them the trouble and expense of performing this devout duty in after life. Ahmed told me that one great motive he had to acquire a fortune was that he and his family might make a pilgrimage to Mecca before they die. We took a number of mounted guards along to protect us S E B A S T E . 363 against the Bedouins, who have a bad name here. Cross¬ ing a considerable brook flowing north of Nablous, we rode through shady groves of olives, pomegranates, and figs. The singing birds, murmuring brooks, and the fresh odor of grass, wet with the crystal drops of the morning, contrasted pleasantly with the two desolate mountains which rose from 800 to 1000 feet above us, and combined to form one of the most charming gar¬ den spots I found anywhere in Palestine. We emerged from these groves into a fruitful district, in a tolerable state of cultivation. Some Arabs were preparing the ground for summer seed, ploughing up, as well as their skimming ploughs could, the roads or paths running through their fields. After riding an hour and three-quarters over rough hills, with here and there a green glen near a village, we at length reach Sebaste, the ancient city of Samaria, about six miles from Nablous or Shechem. From a large plain, green and fresh-colored, like a vast basin of vege¬ tation scooped out of the surrounding mountains, rises an oval isolated hill, about 600 feet high. Its sides, some- w’hat steep, were covered with full-grown wheat, up to its long flat top. It rose out of the vale so perfectly sym¬ metrical and snug, as if the hand of man had sodded and levelled its sloping sides. This is the “hill Samaria which Omri bought of Shemer for two talents of silver, and built on the hill, and called the name of the city which he built, after the name of Shemer, owner of the hill, Samaria.” 1 Kings 16 : 24. Midway of the ascent, a level terrace or belt stretches around the hill, on which we found a small Arab village, and the ruins of a church dedicated to John the Baptist, over his traditional grave. The building is 153 feet long, 364 A FINE LANDSCAPE. and 75 feet broad. Ascending along the steep path, we dismounted on a b’road terrace near the summit, and climbed up the bank on the topmost platform, perhaps five acres in size. The bad reputation of the villagers made it necessary to display our carnal weapons as much as possible. In this country necessity is laid on a man at least to appear warlike, whether he feel like it or not. Sometimes I rode with two five-barrelled revolvers in a broad red girdle, neither of them loaded, but just as ser¬ viceable for all that. The hill was cultivated to the top, and had thriving fig and olive trees on its belt and around the base. Along the northern edge a brisk little stream flowed out into the plain, and a large one to the south of it. The view from the top extends over the whole basin, about six or eight miles wide. Among the waving lakes of wheat heads, many Arabs were seen ploughing, sowing, and weeding their grain. Many villages dotted the plain and moun¬ tains which border it, all green with rich pasturage. The fields, flocks, workmen, mountains, and villages, all spread out to view like a charming variegated panorama. On this hill was the ancient city of Samaria, strongly fortified, so that the king of Assyria had to besiege it three years before he could take it. 2 Kings 18. The lofty mountains which girt the plain helped to defend the city on the hill rising out of its centre. And the strong lofty battlements around the base of it must have pre¬ sented formidable barriers to their foes. Their only plan was to cut off all communication with the fruitful plain around it, and starve them out. Thus Ben-hadad, King of Syria, ‘‘ besieged it until an ass’s head -was sold for fourscore pieces of silver, and the fourth part of a cab of dove’s dung for five pieces of silver.” While they FORMER STRENGTH OF SAMARIA. 365 looked out on their rich fields, the famine pressed them so sorely that women ate their children to allay their suffer¬ ing. 2 Kings 6 : 29. In whatever direction the famishing Samaritans looked, they must have seen their enemies spread over the plain and mountains — thirty-two kings, with chariots and horses, and a multitude almost innu¬ merable. Not a man could pass through the vast encamp¬ ment, either from mountain or valley, to bring food to the beleaguered city. As the mountains around the plain are higher than the hill of Samaria, the Syrians on their tops must have been able to watch the misery of the famishing inhabitants in the city. The sudden plenty which ensued at the termination of the siege is easily accounted for by the fruitful plain immediately around the city, and the provisions which the Syrians left back in their flight. The strongly fortified hill city gave the Syrians so much trouble and labor, that they said of the Samaritans : “Their gods are gods of the hills; therefore they were stronger than we ; but let us fight against them in the plain, and surely we shall be stronger than they.” 1 Kings 20 : 23. In point of strength, beauty, and fer¬ tility, Samaria was unsurpassed by any city in Palestine. Instead of the rough, precipitous mountains and ravines around Jerusalem, where Juda and Benjamin had to earn their bread with immense labor, making walls around their rock-hills to keep the earth and grain from washing down, Samaria had her large, rich plain, alive with a spontaneous vegetation, and rewarding the trifling labor of the farmer with abundant crops. The winter torrents washed no soil from their plain, and they needed no extra labor to wall up their fields and keep them from sliding down the mountains. But this easy life proved a curse to the Samaritans. It engendered indolence and 31 * 366 TEMPLE OF BAAL. luxury, until their table became their snare. They had a constant hankering after idols. It "vras a stronghold of the old Canaanite idolatries. They had two gods — ■ Baal, a male, represented by the sun ; and Ashtaroth, a female, represented by the moon. Here the great temple of Baal was erected, most probably on the summit, which Jehu destroyed, who himself was finally buried here. It had become the centre of idolatrous worship, luring many to trust in it, and 'to look toward this hill rather than Zion. “ Wo to them that are at ease in Zion, and trust in the mountain of Samaria.” Amos 6:1. Descending the hill we came to a colonnade, supposed to belong to the time of Herod the Great. Some sixty limestone columns stand planted erect in the earth, and many others are promiscuously lying on the ground. What edifice they composed, and for what purpose, are things unknown. Their present use is silently to preach of the departed glory of Samaria. Grass and grain wave over its proud palaces, and the dust of her idolatrous in¬ habitants enriches the soil of her terraced hill. Frag¬ ments of her palaces are occasionally scraped up by the plowman, and loose stones and ruins of her walls and dwellings are scattered around the base of the hill. Just as Micah has it, to the very letter: ‘‘Therefore I will make Samaria as an heap of the field, and as plant¬ ings of a vineyard : and I will pour down the stones thereof into the valley^ and I will discover the foundations thereof.” Micah 1 : 6. Samaria was the capital of the “Ten Tribes” until they were carried captive into Assyria. Most probably many of the columns and other remains of Herod’s pal¬ aces strewn over the hill, were taken from ruins then ex¬ isting ; possibly some have even belonged to the regal NAAMAN AND GEHAZI. 36T dwellings of Ahab and his wicked Queen Jezebel. The city has been waning for 2500 years, alternating between luxury and famine, the scene and centre of idolatry and bloodshed, now razed to the earth and then rebuilt, until it has subsided into the miserable robber hamlet on the slope of its hill, ever on the alert for a booty. / Hither came l!^^aaman, the Syrian, from Damascus, to be healed of his leprosy. Our Saviour says: “There •were many lepers in Israel [Samaria] in the time of Elisha the Prophet, and none of them were cleansed saving Naaman the Syrian.” Luke 4 : 27. Such are still there. The cupidity of Gehazi was punished wuth this dreadful disease, which was to cleave unto his seed forever. These loathsome lepers are monuments of his sin, and some perhaps even the heirs of his penal disease. After leaving Samaria we passed some men with don¬ keys, having one or both ears cut off, for which our guides accounted in this wise : When an ass trespasses in a neighboring field, the owner of the field is allowed to cut off his ear. Should he repeat the offence, his other ear must go for it. Some of these poor donkeys had sinned twice, which cost them both ears. In tliis respect these modern Canaanites are in advance of the Mosaic law on this point. “ If thou meet thine enemy’s ox oi ass coing astray, thou shalt surely bring it back to him again.” Ex. 23 : 4. Our path led us over hill and dell ; now the horses’ lioofs would clatter over bald rocks and earthless knobs, then trip over plains spread with wheat and barley. And while these were fast ripening, Arabs were ploughing and sowing for a later crop. Crossing one of these fertile valleys, one of our Turkish guards challenged for a race, and with that gave reins to his steed. A few 368 AN EXCITING RACE. followed, mine among the rest. After he had distanced the rest, I concluded it was time to stop, hut he thought differently. Away he dashed over the plain, which seemed to spurn the touch of his hoof, bearing off his unwilling rider like a second John Gilpin, his coarse carpet bag and burnouse flapping in the breeze like the wings of an ostrich. With distended nostrils pointed skyward, he defiantly snuffed the air like a miniature locomotive, his long mane waving wildly in the breeze. On still he bounded like an antelope, whither he listed. When I succeeded in stopping his wild career and reined him up, he champed the bit, pawed the earth, and grace- fully curved his arched neck as if consciously proud of his beauty. He was a noble specimen of an Arab horse, a polished dappled grey, with every joint and limb in¬ stinct with ease and life. These Arab horses are a hardy race, nimble-footed as a roe ; and when their mettle is aroused in w’ar, they seem to catch the defiant rage of their rider. Often when looking at their pranks, I had to think of Job’s description of the Arab horse : “Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength ; He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear and is not affrighted ; Neither turneth he back from tlte sword. The quiver rattleth against him, The glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage ; Neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha ; And he smelleth the battle afar off. The thunder of the captains and the shouting.^' Job 39 ; 19-25. THE ARABIAN HORSE. 369 The Arab and his horse live on terms of the closest intimacy : if anything, the horse seems the more refined of the two, and receives the greater honor. He is never degraded by the touch of collar or traces. He is solely trained for the saddle. His limbs are unimpaired by heavy draughts. In some parts of Palestine and the Desert, an ordinary horse sinks over the fetlock into the sand and ashy earth at every step ; but the Arabian horse trips nimbly over the soft surface, as if the earth shrank from his touch. He is fit for service until he is thirty-five years of age. Nowhere can you find more skilful horse tamers than the Arabs. The horse and his rider have'nearly the same social habits. For the first few months, women have the care of the foal. At a year and a half, the little Arabs mount him. The weight of the rider must always correspond to the strength of the horse. At two years and a half, a grown man mounts him. For a long time he never goes beyond a walk. His bit is exceedingly light. His rider has no spurs ; a mere twig which he tries never to use. He is never at rest. He must often fetch feed and drink for him at a great distance. He lives on spare diet like his master, which disencumbers his limbs and body of super¬ fluous flesh. Often, horse and rider grow up together. At eighteen months old, me little boy rides the foal to grass and water with a soft mule bridle. From this on, they live and mingle together in the most intimate com¬ panionship. Their age and habits are well suited. The horse grows gentle, and the child learns how to ride him. This accounts for the Arab’s great skill in horsemanship. With or without a saddle, he wheels and whirls around in sudden turns and countless evolutions, his long spear poised in the air, and his loose apparel streaming in the Y 370 THE ARAB’S FRIEND. wind, with an easy fixedness and grace as if he and the horse were really but parts of the same body. He dis¬ mounts and perhaps leaves him untethered without any abuse of the confidence reposed in him. They lavish mutual caresses and familiar fondlings on each other, taking all sorts of liberties with one another. While the Arab adorns his bridle and pats and softly rubs his limbs, the horse playfully picks at his coarse garments and snuffles about his beard. He talks to him as he does to his wife 'or child, and the animal listens and obeys with almost human intelligence. Fond as the Arab is of money, it can poorly compensate for the pain occasioned by parting from his' affectionate friend. And should a large sum lure him into a sale, or death take his horse from him, neither the loss of wife or child fills him with keener sorrow. Should there be poetry in his soul, he will sing the virtues of his departed steed, and vent his grief in pathetic wailings over the fate that has bereft him of the society of such a companion. In the middle of the afternoon we entered Galilee. Riding over this wonderful country, a hundred little objects furnish daily subjects of thought and instruction. And the scenery evermore varies. Now our cavalcade wearily winds up a steep, rocky hillside. We listen to the muleteers gibbering in Turkish, their faithful mules and horses threading up along the narrow path in single file, with little bells hung around their necks, meanwhile sweetly jingling at every heavy and laborious tread. All of a sudden we get on to a grassy glen, with fields, flocks, fountains, and clumps of olive or oak trees. Oc¬ casionally we pass a well or village, where there are always sprightly groups to greet us with a “ Salaam.’* To-d:iy, large storks flew fitfully over these glens, and JENIN. 871 stalked in long columns along the water’s edge, in quest of food. We rode through a narrow valley, in between two ranges of hills, for a number of miles, and finally reached Jenin, at the end of the plain of Jezreel, in five hours after we had left Samaria. A swarm of pilgrims, on their return from Jerusalem, at least 600 or 700 in number, had already encamped along the edge of the village. In the flush of our enjoyments, we rode aw'ay from our muleteers and baggage. Feeling alarmed for their safety, we finally sent our soldiers or Turkish escort after them, with whom they safely arrived two hours after '^ve had reached Jenin. Jenin is the En-gannim which Joshua gave to Issachar. ‘‘And out of the tribe of Issachar, . . . Engannim, with her suburbs.” Joshua 19 : 21 ; 21 : 29. It has always owed much of its prosperity to a flourishing fountain in the centre of its narrow valley, which, during summer % and autumn is entirely absorbed by its fields and thriving orchards. This fountain is the most distant source of the Kishon. It is now the chief town between Nazareth and Nablous (Shechem), and contains about two thousand inhabitants, nearly all Mohammedans. They are famous chiefly for their quarrelsome, warlike, and plundering propensities. We erected our tents near a purling brook, running between us and the village. It is a miserable, filthy-looking collection of mud huts, intersected by nar¬ row streets. A few palm-trees gracefully waved their plume-like tops in the soft evening breeze. The flat house-tops were green with grass ; and out of this medley of dirt and pure grass rose the tall minaret of the village- mosque, from which the muezzin [herald] saluted us, soon after our arrival, with the usual cry : “ To prayers, 372 A CAMP-SCENE. to prayers ; there is no God but God, and Mohammed is his Prophet.” We consented to employ guards from the Governor of Jenin to protect us during the night ; the hire which they received being a kind of bribe that the town autho¬ rities should not rob us. For the worst robbers are often these soldiers themselves. It was a very dark night, and the large pilgrim encampment all around us composed a singular scene. Lights flickered in all directions, and luminous smoke curled up from camp-flres, reflecting a red glare on the tents, and half revealing the chatting, eating, sleeping pilgrims. Some were cooking ; others, rolled up in their blankets on the damp earth, heaved deep breaths, and uttered half-audible dreams. Here and there a circle of smokers sat around their watch- fires, talking with a suppressed tone of voice. Some of the younger sort and their guards scouted along the edge of the encampment, cracking off guns and pistols, to apprise the prowling robbers what stuff they were made of. The mules, horses, and donkeys tinkled their little bells, as they were eating their meals in bags tied around their mouths. After musing on this novel night- scene, we retired to our tent ; and, with knaves for our protectors, rested sweetly, under the “shadow of the Almighty.” STOLEN HORSES. 373 CHAPTER XVI. nr tjir falhg nf Sr^red April 2Sd. — Yesterday afternoon we crossed the boundary of Galilee. This morning there was quite a commotion among the pilgrims, who discovered that three of their horses had been stolen last night. ^The Governor of Jenin sent us word that we could not be allowed to go any further, without the protection of an armed escort ; and with that came eight guards, mounted on prancing chargers, with an air of martial courage which seemed ready to give life and limb, if need he, for our safety. Of course, we knew that the worthy Governor only wanted hire for his men ; and, lest they might rob us themselves, we took them. It was a charming, dewy morning ; the air breathed refreshing odors, and was vocal with the warblings of all manner of birds. The sun had scarcely risen, when the peasants of Jenin wended their way along various paths, to get them to their labor in the fields. Numerous sky¬ larks, of a dark-grey color and of the size of a small robin, sang merrily, as they flapped upward, — singing sweeter still, as they pierced the heavens ; and, when no more seen, still piped their clear, upward melody. Mrs. Ilemans describes their ascent to the life : 32 374 GOD*S CARE FOR BIRDS. '• The sky-lark, when the dews of morn Hang tremulous on flower and thorn, And violets round his nest exhale Their fragrance on the early gale, To the first sunbeams spreads his wings Buoyant with joy, and soars, and sings. “ He rests not on the leafy spray. To warble his exulting lay, , But high above the morning cloud. Mounts in triumphant freedom proud. And swells, when nearest to the sky. His notes of sweetest ecstacy. “ Thus, my Creator ! thus the more My spirit’s wing to Thee can soar, The more she triumphs to behold Thy love in all Thy works unfold. And bids her hymns of rapture be Most glad, when rising most to Thee.” Often the Saviour looked at these birds in his own Gali¬ lee, and drew lessons, sad and cheering, from their habits. In His voluntary human poverty He felt how much bet¬ ter they were off than He in his life of suflfering. The birds of the air have nests ; but the son of man hath not where to lay his head.” Matt. 8 : 20. He saw how the fretting fears and discontents of the children of men betrayed a want of confidence in their Providential Father. Then He points to these irrational objects of His tender care. Behold the fowls of the air : for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor. gather into barns ; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? ” Matt. 6 : 26. For a while after we left Jenin, the fertile plain looked like one continuous wheat-field, for this is the famous Val¬ ley of Jezreel. To the right the mountains of Gilboa DEATH OF JORAM. 375 rose high above the valley. On an elevation, several miles from our path, we passed the city of Jezreel, with its ancient fountain, now containing twenty or thirty houses, mostly in mins, hut few of them being inhabited. A few sarcophagi mark the graves of ancient Jezreelites. As water was necessary for ‘^a garden of herbs,” and this being the only perennial fountain in the neighborhood, perhaps the vineyard which Ahab violently took from Naboth, was near it, for it was “ hard by the palace of Ahab, King of Samaria.” 1 Kings 21 : 1. On the elevated site of Jezreel is an ancient square tower, half in ruins, of considerable height, which com¬ mands a view of the whole plain and surrounding coun¬ try. On this, or one like it, near the spot, stood a watchman on the tower in Jezreel, and he spied the com¬ pany of Jehu as he came. . . . The watchman said. The driving is like the driving of Jehu the son of Nim- shi ; for he driveth furiously.” The mounted messen¬ gers sent out to meet him could be seen by the guard at least five or six miles off. Then Joram, King of Israel, and Ahajiah, King of Judah, went out each in his chariot and met the dashing Jehu in the portion of Naboth the Jezreelite. Jehu drew his bow with his full strength and smote Joram, and told his captain to cast him in the portion of the field of Naboth the Jezreelite. 2 Kings 9. When Jehu had reached Jezreel, he bade two or three eunuchs to throw the wicked Jezebel down from a window, where the dogs devoured her corpse (2 Kings 9), a thing not unusual for dogs in the East. They have more of the habits of the hyena than of the faithful, kind animal of their species in other countries. In some parts of the Orient, heaps of stone are put on the graves to prevent them from digging up the dead. They are a mean, 376 EASTERN DOaS. sneaking, scabby, dirty animal, with hair standing on end, and wolfish heads, kicked and cudgelled by everybody that comes within reach of them. Next to the Arabs and Turks, they are the greatest robbers in the East. They prowl and steal around the traveller’s tent, and the moment he turns his back they thrust their dirty snouts into his cooking pans, and even into the bowls on his table. Few things but dogs could raise the ire of Mo¬ hammed, our patient, forbearing cook. The approach of these walking, scenting skeletons, would raise his Theban blood, and provoke a storm of Arabic invective, and stones. The treatment which they receive makes them shy ; and, as they are shunned and cursed by all, they must either steal or starve. The dog has ever been regarded as an unclean animal in the East. ‘‘ Thou shalt not bring the hire of a whore or the price of a dog into the house of the Lord thy God for any vow : for ever both these are an abomination unto the Lord thy God.” It was a synonym for contemptible meanness. “Am I a dog ?” said Goliath to David when the little shepherd boy approached him with stone and sling. “But what! is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?” Hazael said to Elijah when he predicted his future cruelties to Israel. When Shimei cursed David in his flight from Absalom, Abishai said: “Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king?” And no epithet is oftener on the scowling Moslem’s lips when he curses the hated Christian, than “infidel dog.” As we advanced, little Mount Hermon, an oblong mountain, rose out of the plain, and beyond this the lovely Tabor. We had^ajgfeed in the morning to go by Shunem, but our cowardly escort, fearing the Arabs, took us another way. From early childhood I had delighted THE S H U N A M M I T E WOMAN. STT in the sweet story of the prophet and the Shunammite woman, and had my own childish dreams of the place even after I ceased to be a child. Few passages in the Old Testament possess such a natural simplicity and touching interest. “And it fell on a day, that Elisha passed to Shunem, where was a great woman ; and she constrained him to eat bread. And so it was, that as oft as he passed by he turned in thither to eat bread. And she said unto her husband. Behold now, I perceive that this is an holy man of God, which passeth by us con¬ tinually. Let us make a little chamber, I pray thee, on the wall ; and let us set for him there a bed, and a table, and a stool, and a candlestick : and it shall be w'hen he cometh to us, that he shall turn in thither.” 2 Kings 4 : 8-10. Just such a room and furniture as would suit a student or minister of the nineteenth century. I insisted on going to Shunem. Our soldiers, with characteristic coolness, deserted us and returned to Jenin. Ahmed provoked the fear of the party with dis¬ mal tales of Shunammite villany. I vainly begged him to give me only a few attendants ; for with me it was clearly now or never, so far as seeing this shrine of holy hospi¬ tality was joncerned. I rode up to Ahmed and demanded a revolver. Finally, to escape my importunity, he handed me an unloaded one, never dreaming that I would be so rash as to venture thither alone with such a weapon. But Shunem I wished to see, and to Shunem I would go. Giving spurs to my gallant grey, I galloped off alone, across the pathless undulating vale. The soil was like a soft heap of ashes, into which he sank deep at every tread. I crossed a ravine covered with thistles as dense and high as hemp. Arrived on a hill, I reconnoitred by means of a spy-glass, and discovered Shunem nestled along the foot 32* 378 S H U N E M. of little Mount Hermon. Spying an Arab apparently bunting something, I thought it best to look the warrior as fiercely as possible. So I rode on, bridle in one hand and pistol in the other, finger on the trigger, as if ready to crack away at the first sign of an attack. On an elevation about two or three minutes from the edge of the village, I reined up the horse to take a view of it. Igno¬ rant of the language, and alone, I deemed it prudent not to ride through the, town, where they could easily have captured me by cutting off my retreat to the main road. I had a clear and satisfactory view by means of a glass. Shumen is on the steep western slope of little Mount Her¬ mon, a small dirty village, skirted with trees which looked like pomegranates and large cactus, (or prickly pears,) about the size of an ordinary peach tree. It has a small fountain, hardly suflScient for the wants of its inhabitants. Their low huts seemed no more than six or eight feet high. In the centre were a few larger buildings, among which w^as most likely the village mosque. I saw but few people in the narrow streets, but a number were plough¬ ing in the neighboring fields. From here David, in his old age, got “ a fair damsel, Abishag a Shunammite,” for a wife. Elisha forfeited the peace of a fixed settled home when he left his oxen to become a prophet, still a common fate among the prophets of the Christian ministry. 1 Kings 19 : 19-21. He roves about to the Jordan, Gilgal, Samaria, Dotham, Jezreel, Shunem, Carmel, and Damascus. How sweet to find one spot in a quiet village along a mountain-side, overlooking a fertile, populous l)lain, where pious hospitality always had a furnished room and a spread table ready for him ! Often he tarried in the chamber on the wall at Shunem, sat on the stool by the table on which was the candlestick of ELISliA RAISES THE DEAD CHILD. 379 his friend, and slept in the bed her provident kindness, characteristic of her sex, had furnished. She was asked what she desired in return. A favor from “ the Kino' or o captain of the host? ” She said: “ I dwell among mine own people.” That is to say, I am highly favored, contented, and happy. God blessed her with a son. When the child had coiled around her heart, death suddenly tore him from her. Her first thought for relief is toward the ‘‘ holy man of God.” He is over there on Carmel, per¬ haps eight or ten -miles off. Near the sea, at the western end of the plain, she can see the place from Shunem. “ She saddled an ass, and said to her servant. Drive and go forward ; slack not thy riding for me except I bid thee!” From the mountain he sees her coming “afar off” down in the plain. Gehazi is quickly sent to see what is the matter. Elisha alone durst hear her doleful tidings. He foreknew the future. Knew that her child should die. Why then pray God to give her a son, only to tear and crush her heart in his early death ? “ Did I desire a son of my lord ? Did I not say, Do not deceive me ? ” He gives her back the living child ; “ she fell at his feet, and bowed herself to the ground [in gratitude,] and took up her son, and went out.” 2 Kings 4. Having had a satisfactory view of Shunem, and made a sketch of its outlines, I turned the horse in the direc¬ tion of my companions, of whom I had entirely lost sight. When across the ridge of a hill, beyond the sight of the watchful Shunammites, I gave him loose reins and steered off in a north-western course. The Arab peasants in the field stopped at their work and watched my goings. Pre¬ sently I espied two turbaned heads peering up behind a ridge right in front of me, in whom I soon discovered two mounted Arabs. We were directly approaching each 880 ADVENTURE v\^ITH ARABS. other on the same path, so that I was bound to face the music. Assuming the air of daring, undaunted fortitude, aided by the fierce physique of a luxuriant beard and a bronzed complexion, tanned by a hot Eastern sun, we approached, each eyeing the other with evident suspicion. Just as we met I raised the right hand to my breast and forehead, in salutation, — ‘‘ Salaam, aleikum,” (peace be with you.) They muttered a reluctant reply, showing clearly that they cared not for peace just then. (The Arab never salutes an enemy.) When they were a few paces past me one shouted in a gruff tone of voice : “ Osber ! ” (stop !) But nothing daunted, — for I did not know just then what the word meant, which, by the way, detracts considerably from my share of glory in the adventure, — I left the horse walk on, with an air of appa¬ rent unconcern, meanwhile holding on to the trigger, and watching with side glances whether they were pursuing. In that event, as I had neither the desire nor ability to fire, the whole affair would have become a question of speed. I had great confidence in the fleetness of my horse, and unless cut off from our party, felt pretty con¬ fident that I could outride them in the event of a chase. But they feared the little iron in my hand. I was told, (I cannot vouch for its truth,) that so few of the Arabs ever seeing revolvers, they circulate frightful stories about their destructive properties, and that some really believe if you once pull the trigger it will crack away as long as a foe is within sight or reach. A slight rise in the plain soon hid me from their view, and I left my Arab streak away to his heart’s content. After riding several miles, I reached an eminence from which I discovered our cavalcade in the distance, halting for a consultation. They had seen the two mounted UNEASY DRAGOMEN. 381 Arabs going in the direction of Shunem, and thought that most probably I had fallen into their hands, or those of some others. Ahmed was in the greatest distress, both on my account and his own. For these Egyptian drago¬ men are licensed by the Pasha. They must bring a cer¬ tificate of perfect satisfaction from every traveller they serve. If they fail in this, or complaints are otherwise made, they are at once deprived of their license. He begged Mr. M - to give him a certificate, in the event of my injury or death, exonerating him from, all blame in the matter. While they were thus consulting what course to pursue, I hove in sight, to their exceeding delight. Ahmed undertook to read me a lecture for rashly imperilling my life and his reputation as a drago¬ man. I told him that we Christians thought as much of our prophet and Koran as they did of theirs ; that we came 5000 miles to see the holy places of our religion, and to worship our Maker around their shrines. And now, after we had employed him at a munificent price to conduct us to these places, he seemed to think we cared no more about them than a follower of Mohammed, and hoped to hurry us on without even a passing glimpse, under the pretext of danger. If he and his escort were unwilling to furnish us the service for which they had been employed, we must serve ourselves, and they be responsible for danger and death. This little reply gave him a clearer idea of duty, and quieted his croaking. There is no doubt that this is an unsafe region. Rev. Mr. Arthur, an eminent Wesleyan minister of London, passed over this plain several weeks later, with his lady. He told me afterwards at Beirut, that he was attacked by a set of Arabs between Jenin and the little Hermon, who demanded money with presented guns. What his 382 ARAB TACTICS. armed muleteers could not accomplish, fifteen dollars had the power to effect. These Arabs fear nothing so much as pluck. They fight, fire, and rave in their own style, but the boldest robber fears to take liberties with intrepid prowess, even should it be merely assumed for a special object. Possibly these men had never before seen a Frank ride around Shunem without an armed escort. They may have thought that one who undertakes this must either be a demoniac or a bold warrior. The former they revere, the latter they fear. While I may be charged with rashness for entering upon such an adven¬ ture without any available arms, I felt that under Provi¬ dence, there was as much if not more virtue in an empty revolver, than one with powder and bullet. But to have done it without going through the harmless motions of martial courage,^ would have been wrong, as that might have tempted these freebooters to commit actual robbery, if not murder. ^ The contrast between this plain and some of the more southern districts of Palestine is very striking. The rough conical hills and undistinguishable undulations of Judea, from Hebron to Samaria, are a bleak barren region in comparison with the valley of Jezreel or Es- draelon. It consists of an uneven plain, now level, then uneven and undulating, extending from the Mediterra¬ nean on the west to the Jordan on the east, and from the mountains of southern to those of northern Palestine, forming the roots of Lebanon. From north to south it is about twelve, and from east to west, about twenty miles in size. The southern part is pretty well cultivated ; the rest only here and there. Many parts are teeming with spontaneous vegetation, with hay-harvests unsown and un¬ reaped, and an indescribable profusion of wild flowers, VALLEY OF MEGIDDO. 388 blending their rich colors like a variegated carpet in tints of charming beauty. The villages are built on mound¬ like elevations, like those along the Nile. The fellahs or Arab farmers never put any manure on the soil. The women make large cakes of this, then dry it in the sun, and use it for fuel in place of wood. And yet in spite of their skimming ploughs, and the absence of manure,' they raise luxuriant crops of wheat, barley, cotton, and millet for many years in succession. This plain has been enriched with floods of human gore. Its central position between the highlands and lowlands, the north and south of Palestine, has made it the arena of bloody wars, one of the most sanguinary battle-fields in the world. To an Israelite this “ valley of Megiddo,” as it is sometimes called, is associated with some mournful recollections. Two kings, Saul and Josiah, were slain on its soil ; and the two most touching and melancholy dirges in Hebrew poetry were evoked by the defeats of Gilboa and Me¬ giddo. 1 Sam 31 ; 2 Chron 35. It was not until the later struggles of Hebrew history that Jezreel became the theatre of their wars. Joshua fought all his battles save one in the more southern part of Palestine. But in their later history, the Canaanites made repeated efforts to regain their lost possessions, and selected Esdraelon as their battle-field, generally against the wishes of the Jews. The Jewish cavalry being very inferior, they always preferred mountains and mountain passes for their battles. Their enemies often possessing many horses and chariots, studiously avoided these, and in¬ vaded the plains to get the advantage of a more suitable 384 BIBLE REMINISCENCES. CHAPTER XVII. fltii Binniit (Carmrl. That day in the Valley of Jezreel will long be re¬ membered. Mount Carmel, Tabor, Gilboa, Gilead, and the bills of Basban, Sbunem, and Jezreel, all seen in a morning’s ride, and most of them from the same point of view, was a rare entertainment for a lover and student of the Bible. Ever and anon as we rode on, I opened the sacred volume and read its descriptions of the events connected with it. We selected a green spot for our table at noon, teeming with a variety of wild flowers, which filled the air with pleasant odors. Hitherto the little Hermon had partly concealed Tabor, which is only a few miles north of it. But as we passed the former, it rose out of the plain with striking and imposing gran¬ deur, carpeted with trees and grass to the summit. Leaving Tabor to the right, we entered a rocky ravine, and then crossed a rough, tedious mountain, and soon came into the basin of Nazareth. Riding along the slope of a hill, the rounding of a hluflf suddenly revealed the home of Joseph and Mary right before us, perched on the side of this mountain kettle. Dismounting before the Latin Convent, the attentive monks gave us a hospi¬ table reception. We were led through a large open court in the interior, and from here up a narrow stone CHURCH OF THE ANNUNCIATION. 385 stairway into an arched room. This will be our abode for a few days. A long day’s journey through the hot sun had wearied us no little. Sleep soon refreshed “ tired nature,” from which a monk gently woke us to accept of a glass of lemonade. Our lodgings in the convent were cheerfully genial and home-like, free from the stern austerity of asceticism. Soon the ringing cry of the herald rolled over Naza¬ reth from a neighboring minaret, calling her 1000 Mo¬ hammedans to prayer. Between 2000 and 3000 Chris¬ tians make up the remaining population. These, again, are composed of Greek, Latin, or Roman Catholic, and Maronite Christians. Opposite to the convent is the Church of the Annunciation, so called because it is built over the traditional grotto or cave in which the Virgin Mary once lived, and where she received the salutation of the angel, and the promise that she should become the mother of our Lord. The grand altar is placed imme¬ diately over it, on a raised platform. A flight of stairs (ed us into the cave below the altar. Here a tablet marks the spot where the Virgin is said to have stood when she received the angelic message, with the inscription : Verbum CARO Hic FACTUM EST {Here the Word tvas made flesh). Near this were three ancient columns, put there by St. Helena. One of them had the middlo broken out, while the two ends remained. The walls of the chamber were hung with striped silk. In the rear of this cave are others of smaller size, which are reputed parts of her dwelling. On Sunday we were present at the regular service in this church. A sweet-toned organ and a choir of boys, with clear, ringing voices, led the melodious praise. The large number present looked devoiu an"! ^^arnest in their worship. 386 HOUSE OF JOSEPH AND MARY. The Cave of the Annunciation is now a chapel or place of worship. A Romish legend says - the small house built over it in the days of the Virgin was removed in this wise: — In the thirteenth centurv -the Saracens threatened to destroy the Holy Places of Palestine ; in 1291, angels carried this house away through the air, and finally brought it to Loretto in Italy, where thousands still revere it as the ^‘‘Casa Santa"' (the holy house) — the identical dwelling of the Virgin. It has become a great shrine for European pilgrims, around which thou¬ sands annually bow in acts of worship. We were taken to the so-called house of Joseph and his carpenter shop, and also to a large rock in a dwell¬ ing, on which He and His disciples are said frequently to have broken bread. The rock is about twelve feet in diameter, and its flat top about three feet above the ground. All the sacred localities of Nazareth are more or less involved in doubt. Here, as elsewhere, I found it best to dwell on the general features — those character¬ istics which time seldom changes. Nazareth is never mentioned in the Old Testament. Josephus speaks of nearly all the villages around here, but never mentions this. It seems to have been a small, insignificant place, without a history and political im¬ portance. Galilee abounds with mountain-basins, in which villages and larger towns were often found. In such a basin is Nazareth. Fifteen hills swell above and around it on the edge of this kettle or mountain-shell. An ancient writer says: “Nazareth is a rose; and, like a rose, has the same rounded form, enclosed by mountains, as the flower by its leaves.” This hollow is about a mile long, and half a mile wide. It belonged to the tribe of Zebulon, and is about six miles from Mount Tabor, and SITUATION OF NAZARETH. 387 perhaps twentj-two miles from the southern end of the sea of Galilee. Along the western slope of this hollow, on an uneven rise of the hill, was nestled the obscure village of Nazareth, where it remains to this day. Small and unknown, it is yet the nursery and school of the world’s Redeemer ! The first visitor to the place, of whom we have any account, was an angel : “ And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth.” Luke 1 : 26. Joseph and Mary lived here, betrothed, but not actu¬ ally married. Both pious and industrious, he a hard¬ working carpenter, she perhaps still an affectionate child under the parental roof. They were little known here, and less elsewhere. They longed and prayed for the promised Messiah, the consolation of Israel. One day a mysterious messenger from the spirit-world suddenly saluted Mary, and brought her the surprising intelligence that she was to be the mother of her Lord, the Messiah ; — though, by a Providential coincidence He was born in Bethlehem of Judea, He was ever after called Jesus of Nazareth. And so the humble home of Mary, who was “blessed among women,” became blessed among cities, and received the solitary distinction of having its name connected with the Saviour of the world. This distinction was not awarded on the ground of merit ; for our Almighty Father always delights to bless from mercy rather than merit. The people of Nazareth bore a bad character, and doubtless deservedly so. As it was a Galilean town, it shared the reproach of the bad repute of Galilee, which had become famous for ignor¬ ance, turbulence, and its general inferiority to the other parts of Palestine. Once He visited the home of His childhood, as most persons will, if they can. It was on 388 MOUNT OF PRECIPITATION. a Jewish Sabbath (Saturday), when the Law was read in the synagogue. On such occasions strangers present were often invited to say a word of explanation. So Christ explained the passage read. They knew Him, and His humble mother and reputed father, who, it would seem, were unlettered people. They could see no reason why every one present should not know as much as He. “They were astonished and said, Whence hath this man this wisdom, and these mighty words ? Is not this the carpenter’s son? is not his mother called Mary? and his brethren James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas? And his sisters are they not all with us ? Whence then hath this man all these things ? And they were oifended in him.” Matt. 13 : 53-56. At another time he taught at home in the synagogue, “ and they were filled with wrath, and rose up and thrust him out of the city, and led him unto the brow of the hill (wLereon their city was built), that they might cast him down headlong. But he passing through the midst of them, ’went his way.” Luke 4 : 28, 29. Around Na¬ zareth are still precipitous rocks, which would furnish “the brow” from which they attempted to cast him. The traditional place, called the Mount of Precipitation, is on the side of the mountain toward the plain of Jezreel, as you come from Jerusalem, about two miles from the town. But there would have been no need to go so far, when there were places near the town from which to cast him down. All this shows that Nazareth was pre-eminent for rudeness among the villages of Galilee. This is obvious, too, from the expression of Nathanael, himself of Cana in Galilee. When Philip told him at Bethsaida, twenty- five miles from here, that they had found the Messiah in HISTORY OF NAZARETH. 389 1 Jesus of Nazareth, he replied : Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?” — an opinion which doubt¬ less accorded with the prevailing sentiment of his country¬ men. It was in bad repute, from which nothing good was expected. After Christ, we find no mention of Nazareth for 400 years. In the sixth century we find a Christian church here, which the Saracens destroyed. The Crusaders es¬ tablished a bishopric here. Afterward the whole country again fell into the hands of the Turks. In 1620, the Franciscan monks were suffered to rebuild their church and convent. In 1720 both were enlarged and beauti¬ fied. On the eve of his battle with the Turks in the neighboring plain of Jezrecl, Napoleon dined at Naza¬ reth. The town is said to be larger now than at any previous period of its history, having a population of between 3000 and 4000. Until the time of the Crusades it was a very inferior village, and before and since it has passed through many stormy vicissitudes, the victim of lawless violence. It has quietly grown during the last hundred years, owing to the uncurbed inroads of the Arabs from the Desert and beyond the Jordan, which have driven the people from the smaller neighboring villages hither for refuge, until it has become the most important town in Galilee. The houses are of stone, and built after the Eastern style, having flat roofs, without the domes found in Jeru¬ salem and elsewhere. The dwellings generally arc small, the largest building being the Latin convent and church. The streets are irregular, crooked, narrow, and hilly ; some of them abounding with rubbish and heaps of de- 33* 390 FAMILY MILLS. bris. The front of the houses is all solid masonry, save a small door of entrance. Passing through the street a little before the evening meal, I noticed two women grinding on a mill within one of these doors, just as our Saviour has it in predicting his second coming : “ Two women shall be grinding at the mill ; the one shall -be taken and the other left.” Matt. 24 : 41. They W'ere sitting on rough matting or •perhaps sackcloth, spread on the ground. The mill con¬ sisted of two stones, perhaps a foot or eighteen inches in diameter and six inches high, one laid on the other like regular burr-stones. The upper one had an upright 'handle near the outer edge, and a small cavity in the centre into which the grain was poured. Each had one hand on the handle turning the upper stone, and one used her other hand to put grain into the little receiver. Usually they grind before every meal as they need it. Passing along the streets of Eastern towns, just before meal-time, I could often hear the rumbling noise of the mill. These family mills are frequently alluded to in the Bible. When the country was cursed with a famine, the mills and the noise of grinding would be stopped, which was an indication that bread was scarce. “ The sound of the grinding is low.” Eccle. 12 : 4. “I will take from them . . . the sound of the millstones.” Jer. 25 : 10. John says of Babylon : “And the sound of a millstone shall be heard no more at all in thee.” Bev. 18 : 22. One rarely meets with mills of any other kind. With the roving habits of Arabs and even of the ancient Hebrews, it was an indispensable domestic implement. Moses shows his sound common sense and foresight, by making it a part of the Law that “ no man shall take ILLUSTRATIONSOF THE MILLSTONE. 391 the nether or the upper millstone to pledge: for he taketh a man’s life to pledge.” Deut. 24 : 6. As the lower or nether millstone, hearing the weight of the upper and therefore more of the friction of grinding, usually becomes harder by wear, Job uses it as a figure to illustrate the hard heart of the leviathan. “ His heart is as firm as a stone ; yea as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.” Job 41 : 24. Grinding w'as, and still is, often the work of slaves or captives. Poor blind Sampson was brought down to Gaza, and compelled to “grind in the prison-house.” Judges 16 : 21. Those that were in the lowest layer of society, the antipodes of kings, were among the grinders. The last plague of Egypt extended “from the first-born of Pharaoh that sitteth upon his throne, even unto the first-born of the maid-servant that is behind the mill,'' Ex. 11 : 5. And Isaiah, predicting the righteous judgment of God upon the foes of Israel, tells the virgin daughter of Babylon and of the Chaldeans, “ Take the millstone and grind meal.” Isaiah 47 : 2. According to our common notions of the size of a mill¬ stone, the Saviour’s expression about sinking him that giveth offence to the depth of the sea, would seem next to impossible. But these domestic mills clearly illustrate his expression ; not being too large to lift for such a use, and still heavy enough to sink a person. “But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were hotter that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” !Matt. 18 : 6. In some parts of the East the custom still prevails to bind stones to the necks of criminals, and cast them to the bottom of the sea. Toward evening we ascended a hill on the west of the 392 VIEW FROM NAZARETH. town, rising about 500 feet above the bottom of the basin. It is crowned by tbe tomb of a Moslem saint — the Wely of Neby Ismail. What a view for one in the middle of the nineteenth century ! There lay the luxuriant plain of Jezreel, with its bloody history. On its further border, Gilboa. Endor and Nain on the rising slope of the little Ilermon. Mount Tabor, towering high out of the plain. And north of it the great Mount Hermon, whose head, way up in the clouds, was white with eternal snow. Saphet, ‘‘the city set on a hill” of our Saviour (Matt. 5 : 14), hung high up on a mountain bluff. About five miles to the north-west, in a vale, lay Sefurieh, the Sephoris of Josephus, and the Diocaesarea of the Romans and the fathers. In the same little plain is “ Cana of Galilee,” where Christ turned the water into wine at the wedding, and the native place of Nathanael. John 2:1; 4 : 46 ; 21 : 2. Some think Joseph and Mary lived here during the early part of our Saviour’s ministry. Then on the west is the vast blue sea, from whose shore rises Mount Carmel, with the town of Caipha at its base. The centre of this thrilling scene is this “peaceful basin ” which encircles Nazareth. The mountains rise around it “ like the edge of a shell to guard it from intrusion.” How appropriate that He who is without beginning of days or end of years, “ the same yesterday, to-day, and forever,” should be born in a place without a history ! Surely He must often have stood on this hill, and looked out upon this great and grand prospect — on places where He afterward performed miracles, where He was transfigured, where He was rejected by His own townsmen ; and out on the vast sea He looked, over which the “ glad tidings ” of his atoning death were borne toward travellers’ annoyances. ■393 the western world, and a continent then undiscovered and unknown. Nazareth is remarkably quiet, for a town of its size. From that hill-top we could look into all its narrow streets, in which but few persons were seen. A group of little boys were romping about in play on a flat house¬ top, hallooing in their innocent glee, just as boys do in the parks and village-greens of our dear native land. Of course, where there are no wagons, drays, or car¬ riages, there can be little noise. No axe or hammer broke the hush of the place, only the boys on the house¬ top. As the sun was sinking toward the sea in the west, a few birds started a song, which set hundreds of unseen singers to warbling, until the olive-trees around the ‘‘city” were vocal with a confusion of melodies, such as I have never heard elsewhere. This was another day to think about. Wearied and hungry, we repaired to our cool cell in the convent, where our dinner was wait¬ ing. It may seem a trifling matter to the reader ; but, after a long repetition of the same dishes, salad, green beans, and other extras, were a dainty which we had little expected in a place where fasting is the rule and feasting the exception. And what then ? Patching tat¬ tered garments, as usual. Sounds irreverent, after such’ solemn reveries ; but, even in Nazareth, a man must have an eye to his mortal wmnts. The reader will know hotv to make allowance for such vulgarities, should he ever get beyond the reach of tailors, shoemakers, and dry-goods stores. Here a man will learn industry, if there is any such a thing in him. Since I left Egypt I have been sorely put-to, at different times, to stitch to¬ gether the shreds of w’orn-out clothes, burnt up by the hot sun. Had I adopted the whole Turkish dress, my 394 THE BROOK KISHON. tribulation would have been less annoying. On the fol¬ lowing morning we started for the Convent of Mount Carmel, distant about twenty-five miles. Two hours brought us out, across the mountain, into the plain of Jezreel, toward the sea. Here and there we passed a small Arab village, whose owners raised fine fields of wheat. We met a few wandering tribes, with their cat¬ tle. These move about, and live in tents, wherever they find pasture for their flocks. In three hours we reached a ridge, running across the plain, abounding with large oaks and tall grass. In four hours we arrived at the “Brook Kishon.” Like most streams in the East, it is dependent on the rains for its water. At this time it was small, perhaps thirty or forty feet wide. Like most of the “ brooks ” of Palestine, it is a mere water-torrent, till within a few miles from the sea. We are now near the foot of Mount Carmel, in sight of the top, where Elijah met the prophets of Baal. Let us pause to look at this thrilling scene. On the eastern end of the Carmel ridge, on a wide upland sweep, a clump of ancient olives are grouped around a well, which the people of the neighborhood say never fails. There is no town here, only a shapeless ruin, whither the Druses come to offer a yearly sacrifice. Old traditions point to this spot as a place where the ancients offered sacrifices. It is one of the very few traditions, perhaps the only one, “in which the recollection of an alleged event has been actually retained in the native Arabic nomenclature. Many names of towns have been so pre¬ served, but here is no town, only a shapeless ruin ; yet the spot has a name, ‘ El-Maharrakah ’ (the same name is applied to the scene of the Samaritan sacrifice on Gerizim), ‘the Burning’ or ‘the Sacrifice’.” Elijah did ELIJAH ON CARMEL. 395 not build a new altar, but repaired that which was broken down,” showing that it had before been a place of sacrifice. It had not rained for three years and a half. The ground had become parched, the grass was all burnt up in this fertile plain of Jezreel, and the people died fast for want of bread. Ahab sent Obadiah “ unto all the fountains of water, and unto all the brooks,” in search for “grass to save the horses and mules alive.” After such a season of drought, nearly all the fountains must have been dried up. But here was this never-failing well, then as now, on Carmel. Where else could Elijah have found water enough to “ pour it on the burnt-sacri¬ fice and on the wood” three times, until “the water ran about the altar; and he filled the trench also with water Here again, as elsewhere, a well becomes a monument of the past, to identify an important locality. 1 Kings 18 : 30-40. Hither Elijah brought the prophets of Baal and those of the groves or of Astarte, 850 in all ; we have Ahab and the priests on the one side, and on the other the stern, solitary figure of the man of God. Immediately below them was this brook of Kishon, worming its way toward the Bay of Acre, at whose banks we now stand. The whole plain spread out before them with its cities and villages — Jezreel, with Ahab’s palace and Jezreel’s temple clearly seen ; Shunem, where lived Elisha’s friend ; and Tabor, Bashan, Gilead, and Gilboa in the distance, all witnessed the awfully solemn ceremony which was to decide who was God, Baal or the Lord. From morning till noon they “cried aloud” to the fabulous god, and at the evening sacrifice (at three in the afternoon), Elijah prepared his offering, invoked fire from heaven. 396 THE IDOLATROUS PRIESTS SLAIN. which consumed the altar, bullock, and water. Then he brought the false prophets “ down ” the sides of the mountain “to the brook Kishon,” doubtless near where we are now standing, “and slew them there.” 1 Kings 18 : 40. The false prophets slain, “Elijah said unto Ahab, Get thee up, eat and drink ; for there is a sound of abundance of rain.” So the king “went up” again from this bloody spectacle to the mountain, meanwhile pensively pondering over what he had seen. “And Elijah went up to the top of Carmel,” to where they had sacrificed near the well. Right above the altar is still a knoll or elevation, which intercepts the view of the sea. In a few minutes you can ascend to the top from the well, afibrding a view of the Mediterranean. Elijah “cast himself down upon the earth” in the neighborhood of the well, from where he could not see it. Hence he “ said to his servant. Go up now [to this adjacent hill], look toward the sea.” Most likely the sun had already set, draping the heavens with a momentary gor¬ geous splendor, so peculiar to an oriental sunset. Seven times he looked out into this heaven of brass, which spread its glowing image on the sea, and the seventh time only he saw a little cloud where the sea and the sky met, “like a man’s hand.” It soon covered the lu¬ minous trail of the departed sun. The king is kindly advised to hasten to Jezreel, twelve or fifteen miles off, before the rain will swell the torrent of Kishon and endanger his progress. Ahab mounts his chariot at the foot of the mountain and speeds him away ; Elijah tightens his “girdle of leather” around his loose, coarse blanket (2 Kings 1 : 8), so that it will not hamper his limbs, and outruns the king in his chariot, for he was FLEET NESS OF THE BEDOUIN. 397 swift afoot, as the Bedonins of his native Gilead still are. The little cloud soon becomes large and black over Car¬ mel, like a pall, and the forests shake with the wind, which in eastern regions herald the coming tempest. Then comes the long-desired rain, tumbling in torrents down Carmel’s side and athwart the plain of Jezreel. One still finds many counterparts to the swift-footed Elijah among the Bedouins of the East, whose abstemious habits and exemption from the 4^t)ilitating effects of luxury orive them a marvellous fleetness of foot. In looking at their sunken eagle eyes, lean figures, scanty garments (like a coarse shawl with arm-holes for sleeves, and a girdle around the loins), and their wild physique. bearing the stamp of a mysterious intrepidity, I could not help but think of the prophet as he ran across the plain to Jezreel, his long hair and belted blanket stream¬ ing in the air, as the black clouds were rapidly rolling after him from the sea. 1 Kings 18 : 46. The brooks of Kedron, Kishon, Eshcol, and most others alluded to in the Bible, only contain water during the freshets of the rainy seasons. Sometimes you meet a clear streamlet on the shady mountain-side, but as soon as you reach the plain, where “it is hot,” the water gradually soaks away until there is nothing left. In winter, when little needed, they are generally full and loud with promises, but when the hot and dry season comes, and man and beast need them, “ what time they * •> wax warm, they vanish.” When summer droughts parch the earth, the Bedouin vainly hopes to water his fields with their contents, and brings his thirsty, bleating flocks thither only to find them empty. Even this Kishon in the winter is a broad, rapid, roaring stream, clear up to 34 398 CARMEL FAVORED. Mount Tabor, whilst in the summer it is dry till within a few miles from the sea. “ My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a hrooTcy And as the stream of brooks they pass away ; Which are blackish by reason of the ice, And wherein the snow is hid ; What time they wax warm, they vanish: When it is hot, they are consumed out of their place. The paths of their way are turned aside ; They go to nothing and perish/^ Job. 6 : 15-18. I can easily see why Isaiah should speak of the “ ex¬ cellency of Carmel.” Isaiah 35 : 2. True, the oak trees are somewhat dwarfed, and are not so large and numer¬ ous as those we have just passed coming from Nazareth; but its ascent, except on the north-west, is not steep. Even now its gradual slopes are covered with grassy glades, still inviting the flocks to pasture as in the days of Micah, who figuratively alludes to it in a prayer for Israel : “ Feed thy people with thy rod, the flock of thy heritage, which dwell solitarily in the wood in the midst of Carmel.'' Micah 7 : 14. From this it would seem that it was not much inhabited then. There are now some ten or eleven Moslem and Druse villages on and around it. Another allusion of Amos indicates that its pastures were not liable to wither, except by special judgments: “The habitations of the shepherds shall mourn, and the top of Carmel shall wither.” Amos 1 : 2. There are no longer any vineyards on Carmel ; (the name in the He¬ brew means vineyard). I can well conceive, however, why this range of lofty slopes, which meet the first rays of the rising sun, should have been selected by King Uz- zlah for vineyards, who had “ vinedressers in the moun¬ tains and in Carmel." 2 Chron. 26 : 10. Its ravines and TENTS ON HOUSE-TOPS. 399 rock-caves still offer hiding places, for which it was an¬ ciently famous : Though they dig into hell, thence shall my hand take them ; though they climb up to heaven, thence will I bring them down ; and though they hide themselves in the top of Carmel, I will search and take them out thence.” Amos 9 : 2, 3. Jeremiah swears by it, showing in what esteem it was then held : ^‘As I live, saith the King, whose name is the Lord of hosts, surely as Tabor is among the mountains, and as Carmel by the sea, so shall he come.” Jer. 46 : 18. After crossing the Kishon we rode along the foot of Mount Carmel toward the sea. The few villages which we passed were along the rising slopes of the mountain base, where the swelling torrent of the overflowing river could not reach them in the winter. On some house-tops were tents or booths, made of leafy tree-branches. In pleasant weather the people spend much of their time on the flat roofs of their dwellings, to breathe the fresh air, and enjoy the prospect of the world without. During the summer they even sleep there. To shield them from the rays of the burning sun they put up these leafy tents, just as the Jews did who had returned from their Baby¬ lonian captivity. “ So the people went forth and brought them [branches], and made themselves booths, every one upon the roof of his house, and in their courts, and in the courts of the house of God.” Neh. 8 : 15, 16. We continued in the plain to the sea-shore, and there passed through the town of Caipha, and ascended the mountain, through olive groves, to the convent. It stands on the western end of Carmel, which here forms a promontory in the sea. After passing through an arched gateway, we dismounted before the massive building, where one of the monks received us with apparent cordi- 400 INVOLUNTARY IMPRISONMENT. ality. In a cool but sparingly furnished room, he poured upon us a stream of welcomes and friendly inquiries, which would have received a worthy reply had not my French failed me. The sirocco had blown during the middle of the day, producing the customary languor and weariness. After returning to the room assigned us for lodging, we at once sought relief by sleep, but upon waking found that the monk had locked us in. Shades of Anthony ! To be incarcerated in the little thick-walled cell of a monastery, and made an involuntary monk ! Here too, right over the cell of the first hermit, Elijah ! It was all in vain to clatter and thump against the heavy cell door, in this out-of-the-way corner^ While looking out on the sea through the heavy iron bars which grated the window, we espied a German pilgrim in the court below, whom I besought most earnestly in plain German to come to our relief. Soon we heard the welcome steps of the monk, who unbarred the door, and of course made a penitent bow, with a Pardon^ messieurs^'’ for our undesigned imprisonment. By this time a party of Austrian and Tyrolese pilgrints had arrived, whom we had met before ^at Jerusalem and the Jordan. Among these was my stern friend, who commanded me to get out of his lamp light on Calvary. This party of pilgrims, numbering perhaps some twenty or thirty, visited the Dead Sea an hour after we left it. While there they noticed a party of Bedouin robbers bearing down on them, and making an efibrt to surround them. A venerable priestly father, with white locks and a flowing beard, who doubtless had measured lances in his younger days, immediately assumed the command of his brethren, nearly all priests. After defiling them in A MARTIAL PRIEST. 401 battle array, with their swords, guns, and pistols in hand, ready for fight, he drew up his Arab steed, galloped up and down along the line, sword in hand, and, with a fierce stentorian voice, prepared for the expected conflict. His prancing steed, seemingly proud of his hoary rider, snuffed the air in disdain. The whole reminds one of the scene between the Knight of the Couchant Leopard and the Saracen, in their fearful collision near this spot, during the crusade of Richard the Lion-Hearted. The father showed a martial pluck and skill which these modern Barabbases little expected. At all events they evaded an attack by a retreat. Had they come an hour sooner, the result might have been different. For we only had a small escort of Turkish soldiers, who are generally the first to run. As this was Friday, we had to content our¬ selves with a fast-day dinner at the Convent of Mount Carmel, composed chiefly of fish, which, after such a busy day, were greatly relished. They were fresh from the sea below the convent, in quality faultless, in quantity barely sufficient to feed such a hungry crew. Under the convent is a cave, converted into a chapel, where Elijah is said to have found shelter after he had slain the false prophets. To commemorate this event, the monastery was built on this spot. In the morning, before we left, I descended into this chapel, and found one of the German pilgrims celebrating mass, and my friend, the Tyrolese peasant, whom I had met on Olivet, swinging the incense before the altar. The cave is like many others on this and other mountains, which may be as old as Carmel itself. The priest muttering mass, and the wan pilgrims kneeling quietly on the damp floor of the dark cavern ; the earnest simple peasant bowing and crossing himself as he served the priest, and all this on Carmel, made my heart * 402 ACRE. fill up. Protestant as I was, I knelt me down and poured out the desires and burdens of a thankful heart in my own way. The convent is on the western shoulder of Carmel, about 600 feet above the sea. One never wearies look¬ ing at this Mediterranean. Here was the highway of ancient commerce between Phoenicia, Syria, Canaan, and Egypt, all in sight of this mountain. All gone now. Only a few white sails in the distance, and an Austrian steamer down there in the harbor of Caipha, which has touched here to take the German pilgrims on board. To the north of this is the white sandy sea-coast of Acre shimmering in the sun, of which we are allowed to have only this distant glimpse. From this “heated sandy” tract it derives its name. The plain which con¬ tains it is about twenty miles long, and becomes fertile as it recedes from the sea. It is the Accho which belonged to the tribe of Asher, whose dominion extended northward along the coast to Sidon. Judges 1 : 31. Joppa, Caipha (right below us), and Acre, were the three ancient harbors of Palestine. It is the Ptolemais where Paul “saluted the brethren and abode with them one day,” on his last land journey to Jerusalem. Acts 21 ; 7. On account of its peculiar situation, Napoleon I. called it “ the Keystone of the East.” This has made it the central point of attack to all invaders of Palestine for thousands of years. It has so often been battered into ruins, that only the shadow of the ancient Acre remains. These convents are a very convenient arrangement to entertain travellers in countries where there are no hotels. Of late years a few so-called hotels have been opened in Jerusalem, during the travelling season. But outside of this there are none in all Palestine. Travellers EASTERN CONVENTS. 40S either lodge in their own tents or in convents ; occasion¬ ally one procures accommodations in a private house. Natives of the East usually lodge in khans or caravan- sarai, made of a high wall, with a strong gate, which is locked after night. Men, women, and children, and beasts of burden, lodge promiscuously together in the same apartment, each bringing their food, and sometimes their provender, with them. But convents can supply travel¬ lers with all they need, and the monks, especially these, are models of entertaining urbanity. And all is done and given without pay, except what their guests may choose to give them in the form of alms. The buildings are massive piles of masonry, and sometimes have high walls around them. In fact many are fortresses, which, like feudal castles, are intended to afford shelter in times of war. When marauding Bedouin tribes sweep over the country, the affrighted helpless natives often find a refuge within the walls of convents. Thus they have become the modern cities of refuge to the people of God. Of course, their primary object is to afford a home to recluses, who wish to withdraw entirely from the world, and give themselves wholly to a life of meditation, fast¬ ing, and prayer. I have seen nothing in these two con¬ vents at Nazareth and Carmel to impress me unfavorably of their personal habits. As they are much frequented by travellers, the monks spend no little time and labor in “serving tables.” But I cannot think any the worse of their piety for serving their fellow-sinners in this way. How much progress they make in the divine life, and how far their motives and zeal are pure and Christian, I cannot judge. These Carmelite monks are certainly the most intelligent and refined monastics I have ever met. After enjoying their disinterested hospitality, and 404 ELIJAH AND ELISHA. seeing nothing in their conduct hut what accorded with the character of gentlemen, I do not feel called upon to invent blemishes in their practice, or rehash the oft-told tales of monkish corruptions. I think, however, that they might serve their Maker better in some other sphere ; i*or I have little taste for a beneficence which is disso¬ ciated from human sympathy and wme, albeit, accord¬ ing to their opinion, Elijah was a recluse, — the most ancient one — who set the first example of a hermit-life. It is true, he fled from the haunts of men to Beersheba and Horeb ; but God sent him back into the busy world again, to do his little share of work among his fellow- men. 1 Kings 19 : 15, 16. Mount Carmel may have been the theatre of events which were greater in the eyes of the world ; but none have stamped it with such immortal memories, as the visits and acts of Elijah and Elisha. Doubtless, both spent much time here of which the Bible says nothing. May not “ the top of an hill ” on which Elijah sat, when the men of Ahaziah found him, have been somewhere on Carmel ? 2 Kings 1 : 9. How would the Shunammite have known that Elisha was on “Mount Carmel,” when her boy died, had not that been a place of resort to him ? Great men stamp their glory on all they touch. Though dead, they live in the theatres of their deeds while the world stands. Abraham and Beersheba, Moses and Mount Sinai, Elijah and Carmel, are inseparable. The name of one calls up the name of the other. After spending part of the morning on the terrace or roof of the convent, looking at the changeless sea, and at some of the cities and scenes along its coast, and meditating upon their marvellous history, we prepared to depart. The Prior pressed our hands with a cordial IHE HAKT OF THE BIBLE. 405 adieu, and we turned our faces once more toward Naza¬ reth. Going down the mountain we met lovely roses and other flowers growing wild. Birds, too, of gaudy plumage flew and warbled among the old olives of Car¬ mel’s slopes. Beyond the Kishon we started several gazelles, pos¬ sibly on their way to the river in search of water. So they did when David compared his longing for the living God to the hart panting for the water brooks.” Psalm 42:1. In the Bible they are spoken of under the names of harts, roes, and hinds. How gracefully and timidly they leap over the plain ! sometimes hounding like a hare. The gazelle was a favorite of Solomon, doubtless, on account of its pure, innocent, and cleanly habits. They were affectionate withal ; for Jeremiah shows the severity of an impending famine, by saying that even the hind forsook its young, ‘‘because there was no grass.” Jer. 14 : 5. Solomon portrays the tender love of Christ to his Church by the gazelle : “ The voice of my beloved ! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart.” Song of Sol. 2 : 8, 9. They mostly spend their days among the hills, and after night they steal down to the plains, and feed on the rich grass, mixed with lilies, until the day dawns and the shades of night disappear. “ He feedeth among the lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.” Song of Sol. 2 : 17. They are timid beings — the slight¬ est noise or rustling among the leaves will start them. While cropping grass or leaves, they often stop to look and listen for danger. Therefore he charges the daugh¬ ters of Jerusalem, by the roes and by the hinds of the Add, “ not to stir up nor awake his love, till he please-” 406 THE EAGLE AND ITS YOUNG. Song of Sol. 3 : 5. Fifty miles north-east of this is the land of Naphtali, where the nimble-footed gazelles still abound to this day. Jacob says of him : ‘‘ Naphtali is a hind let loose.” Gen. 49 : 21. He, doubtless, referred to the wild, fleet. Bedouin character, which this tribe was to acquire on these rough mountain heights of northern Galilee. Eastern poets compare thein fair ones to the coy gazelle, with its charming hazel eyes and timid mod¬ esty, that comes by night, and steals a passage into their hearts, to pasture upon their affections. The gazelle is about as large as a small American deer, and their meat is considered quite a dainty by travellers. How plaintively the voice of the cuckoo sounded in the deeply shaded oak forest of Jezreel ! And eagles soared high in the air, in a way wonderful even to Solomon. Prov. 30 : 19. How God makes these eagles preach ! They have more to say in the Bible than any other bird, and say it so wisely and well too. Unclean animal as they were (Lev. 11 : 13), they are not without use in the world. Saul and Jonathan were swifter than the eagle in his flight. 2 Sam. 1 : 23. They have a strange method to teach their young to fly. They are generally awkward and clumsy before they are fledged, and for a long while refuse to venture out of their lofty nest into the air. Finally the parent, thinking it time that they should launch out upon the air, pitches into the brood, as if to throw them out, and in their fright and fear, lest they might drop to the earth, they climb on the extended wings of the old eagle, which flies aloft with this burden of affection, to give them lessons in flying. So God taught the Hebrews, who had been stripped, by Egyptian bondage, of faith and moral strength, dealing with them as with helpless children. ‘‘As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her HABITS OF THE EAGLE. 407 wings, taketli them, beareth them on her wings; so the Lord alone did lead him and there was no strange god with hHn.” Dent. 32 : 11-12. Or as Goldsmith has it, in his beautiful description of a faithful pastor : “And as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies ; He tries each art, reproves each dull delay. Allures to brighter worlds, and leads the way.’^ ‘‘Ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians, and how I bare you on eagles’ wings, and brought you unto ray- self.” Ex. 19 : 4. Among the tall cliffs of Edom, Judea, and Lebanon, you often see their “ nest on high.” Job 39 : 27—28. You watch her poised high in mid-hea¬ ven, like a speck floating in sunlight. Even from that height she sees the smallest lamb, kid, or gazelle, and spirally descends round and round, then abruptly makes the fatal plunge, head foremost, with wings closed, and bears it off to her nest. “ Doth the eagle mount up at thy command. And make her nest on high? She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, Upon the crag of the rock, and the strong place. From thence she seeketh the prey. And her eyes behold afar off. Her young ones also suck up blood: And where the slain are, there is she.^^ Job, 39 : 27-30. They live to a very old age, strong and hale with the vigor of youth. So the faithful have their youth “re¬ newed, like the eagles.” Psalm 103 : 5. “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles.” Isaiah 40 : 31. Sud¬ denly as an eagle pounces upon his prey, the Lord visits the transgressions of his people. Hosea 8 : 1. 408 EVENING AT NAZARETH. CHAPTER XVIII. €Iib JnmB 0{ llarj anil ]ftx After our arrival at Nazareth, I again climbed up the hill to enjoy another evening prospect. In holy places the wish to be alone is irresistible. Alone I was, and yet not all alone, for solitude is sometimes the best society. Groups and lines of women came out to the well with water-pots on their heads, for water. A few white tents were among the olives at the edge of the town, belonging to some of our friends who had just arrived. Softly the sun sank toward the sea. The shadow of \ the hill crept over Nazareth. It became longer and longer, across the dale, up the hills on the other side. Then the birds set up such a thousand-piped warbling as I have never heard. The herdsmen came down the hill¬ sides toward home with their herds. Of a sudden all was quiet, as if by the bidding of a magician’s wand. Here was the home of Jesus. The valley, the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars, all then as now. And these He saw. And here He felt as other boys feel; had a mother whom He loved, and who loved Him, who felt as mothers feel, fed Him as mothers feed, and patted Him as her dear child, though a divine boy. 0 what hopes Mary nurses, what blessings she prepares for the world — for us ! Here I sit beside the grave of a Mohammedan. IMPRESSIONS OF SACRED SCENES. 409 Poor being ! be knew not the boy of Nazaretb. But for the darkness I would fain sit here till morning. Up there is the silvery new moon, a thin crescent with a star hanging over its horns, just like the device on the Turk¬ ish banner. Out over the dark sea a faint gleam of light lingers in the western sky. There is my dear America, my home. The home of Jesus, my earthly home, and home in heaven ! “0 Jesus, conduct me to heaven, my home!” Afril 26^4, 1857. — The next day was the Sabbath. Early in the morning we repaired to the church of the Annunciation, where a small congregation was already engaged in worship. The organ tones sounded sweetly and familiarly, like those of the fatherland. A choir of boys chanted hymns of praise. At 10 A. M. we wor¬ shipped with some English friends, who read the Episcopal service in their tent. The Litany impressed me with new and solemn force. God is nigh unto all who call upon him, and yet spots consecrated by the life and suffering of our Saviour, seem nearer the Divine Being than any others. Some may call it superstition, but my first thoughts at places which I felt were not invested with fictitious sacredness, impelled me to meditation and prayer. On Mount Zion, in sight of Gethsemane, Cal¬ vary, and Olivet, it was easy to follow with a devout heart and tongue the petitions of the Litany : “ By Thine Agony and bloody Sweat; by Thy Cross and Passion ; by Thy precious Death and Burial ; by Thy glorious Resurrection and Ascension ; and by the Coming of the Holy Ghost, Good Lord deliver us.” And here in this frail tent at Nazareth we prayed : By the mys¬ tery of Thy Holy Incarnation, Good Lord deliver us.” 35 410 A SUFFERING MISSIONARY. The population of Nazareth is prevailingly Christian, composed of different sects, which are unfavorable to missions. The few attempts of Protestant missionaries have thus far proved fruitless here. In the afternoon I went with a Scotch friend to visit Mr. Zeller, a Ger¬ man missionary in the employ of the Church of England Missionary Society. On the steep ascent of the hill rising above the town, stood a small stone edifice alone, with a few little improvements around it, showing marks of a European taste. Entering the little elevated dwell¬ ing, we found a pale young man, reclining on a plain couch, in a room almost devoid of furniture, suffering with a bilious attack. He had no family ; a turbaned Nazarite was his only attendant and nurse, and he him¬ self his only physician. Far from his kindred, in this lonely place, with this solitary stranger for his companion, I watched his quick breath and fevered brow, beyond the reach of the soothing hand of affection, with emotions of pity and sadness, and tried to speak words of comfort to his sad heart. He had been in the East but a vear or two, and had not fully mastered the language. He said he had but a few hearers in a little private room, and these were cruelly persecuted ; and that his stammering efforts to preach in a foreign tongue, furnished poor hopes of getting a larger audience. Mohammedans and Christian sects were doing all they could to embarrass him and embitter his trials. I felt sad to part from him, fearing that he would soon follow the large band of missionaries who have fallen victims to the trials and climate of the East. After my return home, I learned of his recovery through a German European paper, in whose columns I also found the following dreary picture of Palestine from I AN IMPUDENT THIEF. 411 his pen, which I have translated for the benefit of the reader : “Although I have been in Palestine but a short time, I could fill a volume with shocking cases of oppression, misery, and crime of every kind, which have come to my ears. What I have seen within two weeks, on a journey from Nazareth to Jerusalem, and on my return, may suf¬ fice to give an idea of the present state of things in Palestine. On my way to Jerusalem, I visitjed a Coptic Christian, who told me that four head of cattle were stolen from him the previous night by persons whom he recognized. While we were speaking of this matter, the leader of the thieves entered the door in broad daylight, and demanded a considerable amount of ransom money to deliver the stolen cattle. The owner, although the Secretary of the Governor of Jenin, who has at his com¬ mand a pretty large number of mounted soldiers, did not venture to arrest him, and found that the only way to get back his cattle would be to pay the ransom money. The Government, with all its retinue of satellites, fears the robbers more than the robbers fear the Government. “ I passed a hill-side, planted with thriving young fig- trees, which presented a pitiful aspect. All the trees had been cut down. This is the usual way in which the quarrelling parties take revenge on each other, without being punished for it. The district of Nablous (Shechem) is constantly harassed and buffeted by wars bet^/een twm contending parties, aspiring to grasp the reins of govern¬ ment. Stopping at another place to water my horses, I was accosted by a farmer, with torn garments and a bleeding face, begging me to procure for him the protec¬ tion of a European consul, otherwise his foes would not rest until they had killed him, as he could not expect 412 THE SCOURGE OF PALESTINE. protection from the Turkish Government. On my return from Nahlous, my travelling companions, having lingered behind the party, were attacked by a hand of robbers, who pelted my friends with stones, and cried to their companions to surround them. They escaped narrowly with their lives. “ In Nahlous I found a Protestant from the neighboring village of Raphidim, who, with five other families, was compelled to abandon his house, property, and village, to escape the intolerable extortion of Bedouin chiefs and of the Government. When I travelled through the Valley of Jezreel, the aspect of this beautiful plain was alive with the black tents of Bedouins. To these plun¬ dering tribes we owe it, that this loveliest plain of Pales¬ tine is strewn with ruined villages. In the spring they come up from the Jordan, with their herds, and graze off what the farmers have sown along the edge of the plain; and for those parts not eaten up by the herds, the owners must pay a heavy sum of ransom money to the Bedouin chiefs. The Turkish Government is deaf to the com¬ plaints of these distressed farmers, and their cries for relief. And, what is still worse, it exacts, with a merci¬ less hand, fixed and arbitrary taxes ; and, should the oppressed peasants find it difficult to pay them, the sol¬ diers of the Pasha will prove more relentlessly cruel than the Bedouins. ‘‘ I will give the following as a specimen. Recently a large quantity of costly silks was stolen from a travelling merchant, out of the public inn at Nazareth. Through the intervention of the consuls at Jerusalem, the authori¬ ties of Nazareth were compelled to institute an investi¬ gation. A suspected person, blind from his youth, was arrested, and was bastinadoed with four hgndred stripes TURKISH OPPRESSIOxY, 418 Afterward it was discovered that the Turkish Judge was the chief in the robbery, who had only used the blind man as his tool. The Judge remained perfectly at ease, though he was aware that others knew him to be a party in the matter. The people expressed no surprise that the Judge retained the stolen goods, for they have long ago become accustomed to such conduct. “One of our people in Jaffa (Joppa) is at present involved in a very unpleasant lawsuit. A young Moham¬ medan fell into a well, and was killed. His relatives now allege that a member of our congregation has killed him, and demand his blood, — which means, that one of his family must die for the murdered man. It has been clearly proven that the accused was far away from the well at the time the matter occurred. All seem to be convinced that the relatives of the dead man only desig¬ nate this poor man as the murderer, with a view to extort money for his release. They now incessantly threaten to kill him and his whole family. He had a thriving young olive orchard, worth about 1000 florins ($400), which they hewed down for him. They surrounded his house in Joppa of a night, and fired bullets into the walls and doors. At length he found himself compelled to pay 300 florins. After this appeared a wretched Bedouin, not in the least related with the deceased, and threatened to avenge his blood. Neither the Government nor the consuls have power to check these persecutions. “ Becently our school teacher, Elias Essaptar, in Cefer Cana, was asked by the Judge of Nazareth, how he could presume to instruct a Mohammedan in the Christian reli¬ gion. Elias replied : ‘ The man asked me himself to instruct him.’ Whereupon the Judge threatened to plunge the teacher and his pupil into the direst misfortune, if 414 EFFECTS OF MISRULE. they would venture to speak a word together in the future. The Vice-Consul of Caipha, being present, reminded the Judge of the religious freedom which Hati Scherif had promised to them. To which one of the other judges replied : ‘ If the Sultan, Abdul Medschid, would attempt to fulfil this promise, he would be driven from his throne.’ “ These examples will give a partial conception of the shocking corruption which has spread over Palestine. One can readily imagine how all the baser passions must have unbridled scope under the rule of such an Ungovern¬ ment ; how truth and right are trampled under foot ; and how, as a cons'equence, misery increasingly prevails among the poor modern inhabitants of ‘ the Land of Promise.’ And, alas ! in other parts of the Turkish Em¬ pire matters are not much better. Here one must think of the word of the Lord (Isaiah 1 : 6, 7) : ‘ From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it ; hut wounds and bruises and putrifying sores ; they have not been closed, neither hound up, neither mollified with ointment. Your country is desolate ; your cities are burnt with fire ; your land, strangers devour it in, your presence, and it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers.’ ” Jerusalem inspires one with awe — Nazareth, with ten¬ der sympathy. There the manhood of Christ is continu¬ ally brought to your mind — the wisdom, wrestling, and suffering of His mature years. But here you see the child and the youth everywhere. Climbing the hills, sitting at the fountain, strolling through the streets and lanes of Nazareth, every aspect and feature of the dale calls to mind the child which Joseph and Mary brought hither from Egypt. Matt. 2 : 23. Here he “ was sub- CHILDHOOD OF JESUS. 415 ject unto them,” and ‘increased in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.” Luke 2 : 51, 52. Children at play suggest the question, whether He like¬ wise thus mingled with the youth of His kind. A few hoys, kneeling, said their prayers in the church, with great apparent devotion, and kept me thinking all the while of Jesus, who was taught His prayers by His mother in an adjoining chamber. The tender years and con¬ fiding dependence of childhood are calculated to soften the most stolid temperament, and shy isolated natures are often taken captive by the artless caresses of an infant. The hearts of children are more accessible to us than those of more advanced life. So Jesus appeared to me at Nazareth. In Gethsemane and on Calvary, I approached Him with a sense of dread, mingled with awe ; here, with a gentle, sympathizing love, like that of a younger to an “ elder brother.” As one takes a melancholy pleasure to look at a hat or coat of a deceased brother, or at something he has made, loved, or handled, so I looked at the moon and the stars from the house-top ; at the hills, and the lambs and kids skipping over them, and all seemed holy mementoes and memorials of the Child-God. The Bible says but little of the early history of our Saviour at Nazareth. His return “ into Galilee, to their own city Nazareth,” after “ they had performed all things according to the Law of the Lord,” (Luke 2 : 39) ; His visit to Jerusalem when He was twelve years of age, from here ; and His coming from Galilee to Jordan unto John to be baptized” (Matt. 3 : 13,) are the only allusions to his early home. He dwells here in mysteri¬ ous solitude, as ‘‘ that Holy Thing” which the angel had announced, and by his spotless celestial life, grows “ in 416 FOUNTAIN OF THE VIRGIN. favor ” with the townspeople and those of thp neighbor* hood. Joseph and Mary teach Him the law, as all Jew¬ ish parents taught their children, but He soon knew more than they. When at twelve years of age He tells his mother of being “ about His Father’s business ” she understood not the saying. And when afterwards He revisits His own city. His divine wisdom excites the envy of His fellow townsmen. They could see no reason why the son of Mary and Joseph, the hard-working carpenter, himself a carpenter, should know any more than they. He received and needed the same training and treatment as other boys, and they were familiar with ‘‘ his breth¬ ren ” and ‘‘his sisters.” They remembered the history of the dependent helpless boy, now grown into a prophet, and exclaimed with amazement : “ Whence hath this man this wisdom, and these mighty works ? ” On the outskirts of Nazareth is a spring called the “ Fountain of the Virgin.” Hither the Nazarene maidens resort for water. Every day during two hours after sun¬ rise, and two hours before sunset, the path emerging out of the narrow street leading to this fountain, in a green park-like meadow at the north-west of the town, is alive with picturesque groups of females, bearing water-pots on their heads. Twice I sat me down upon a stone near by to study the fashions and forms of the “ city of Gali¬ lee,” once the house of that illustrious “ virgin whose name was Mary.” Sometimes a few dozen would crowd around the fountain which discharged its crystal waters into a stone trough There was only room for one pot at a time, causing delay to some. As one after another stepped out of the little crowd with her burden, others would step in without any perceptible impatience ; mean¬ while the waiting ones innocently chattering like friendly EASTERN FEMALES. 417 swallows, perhaps over village news or fond lovers, such as young Joseph once had been. Whoever has been to the East, knows how lorn and lonely the world looks where woman’s unveiled face is wanting. Walking through the crowded streets of Cairo, Alexandria, and Jerusalem, I stole an occasional glimpse when their veils were slightly drawn aside during conver¬ sation with a friend whom they chanced to meet. But their tatooed half-vacant faces always lacked the charm divine. Only female travellers are admitted into harems, in which the reputed beauty of the East is caged. Some of my female friends brought me reports, stating that some of the newly inducted slaves were pretty, and not without an expression of innocence and purity; but the treatment which they receive soon robs them of every native charm. The Arab w'omen really seem but a step above the brute. Their half-veiled faces are most repulsive ; and their native uncomeliness is increased by the barbarous custom of tattooing the chin and forehead, and painting their eyelids black, as Jezebel did, (2 Kings 9 : 30, which in the original reads, ‘‘painted her eyes.”) So too in Ezekiel 23 : 40. Their garments were un¬ washed, the hair uncombed, and their persons filthy and disgusting in the extreme. They are treated as an inferior class of beings. In Egypt murder committed under palliating circumstances can be atoned for by a fine. The fine for killing a woman is only half as much as that for killing a man, showing that they are estimated at only half the value of the stronger sex. An Arab treats his wife with less respect than his horse. He can kiss, caress, and embrace him with the most passionate fondness, pity and moan for him when he is sick, lament and weep over his death, t 418 WOMEN IN PALESTINE. while his poor wife rarely receives any such marks of affection. After he, his children, and his slaves have eaten, then she is allowed to enjoy what is left. Thus when I reached Nazareth my mind had been well prepared to recognize and appreciate something better in woman. Here, for once, she takes her place in the home-circle, walks forth with unveiled face in open day, brings water from the fountain to cook and wash, and seems busy and cheerful in her proper sphere. Her face even shows how much she is elevated above her other sisters in the East. Here she seems another being. She has a fair skin, slightly brunette complexion, features well rounded, eyes dark, dreamy, and gentle, sometimes hazel like the gazelle’s, her hair black as a raven, dang¬ ling in long and graceful locks, loosely over her shoul¬ ders, while her whole face glows with a chaste and cheerful earnestness. Most of them look mysteriously thoughtful and con¬ templative. Whilst watching their water-pots, filling up under the flowing fountain, their minds seemed to wander elsewhere, as if pondering like their prototype, the Virgin Mary, on some great hope in their hearts. Some had a string of coins wreathed around the head as ornaments or marks of wealth, and a head-cloth, from which hung a long scarf about six inches wide, reaching in some cases almost to their heels. A heavy scarf or small shawl of rich damask, green or red, was folded somewhat care¬ fully round the waist, and their feet thrust in loose slip¬ pers, with another string of coins encircling the ankles. Their whole dress was the most tidy and picturesque of any I have seen in the East. They evidently never forgot their toilette before they came forth for water ; and yet they seemed to be wholly ignorant of their charms. THOUGHTS ON THE VIRGIN. 419 Having had to see so much of the dark side in the character and position of woman in the East in my pre¬ vious journey, may partly account for this favorable im¬ pression ; but I must be pardoned for saying that I have never in any land or city looked on the like of these Nazarene maidens. Many pleasant thoughts, too, I had while observing them at their cheerful tasks. Methought the Virgin must have looked like this or that one ; or perhaps possessed in charming combination the blended graces of all. Possibly, very probably, like these she used to come out to this fountain for water, along with others of her age, who little dreamed that she was to be¬ come the Mother of our Lord, whom all generations should call blessed. And then afterward she came with her water-pot, and a little thoughtful boy running by her side, plucking her garment and calling her ‘‘mother,” watching the fountain as it poured out with ceaseless flow, wondering where it all came from ; perhaps still un¬ conscious that He was the fountain opened in the house of David for the salvation of perishing millions. Mary’s face too must have looked thoughtful and half-sad, as she pondered over the mysterious incidents connected with her child, as still she looks in Raphael’s great painting at Dresden. Every spot around the fountain was familiar to her eyes ; and with these grounds and groves her “wonderful” son became equally familiar. Leaving ITazareth the next morning, we rode out by the fountain, where we again met a busy group filling their water-pots, doubtless just such pots as were used at the wedding of Cana, not far from here. I handed them my gutta-percha pocket-cup, to get a last draught of its pure water, which they passed through the little crowd, and returned it with as much frankness and graceful 420 ADIEU TO NAZARETH. courtesy, as if they had been educated in Europe or America. As we were turning away from them I asked Ahmed, “ Why are these maidens of Nazareth so much prettier than your women in Egypt?” He replied some¬ what earnestly, and as if surprised at my ignorance : 0 don’t you know that, my master? This was the home of the Virgin Mary.” Moslem, thou hast truly spoken, I thought to myself. An unconscious compliment to the influence of Christianity in the elevation of woman. From all that I have heard and seen in the East, I am more convinced than ever that no religion can so elevate and bless woman as, Christianity. After reaching the top of the hill which was to hide this enchanting dale forever from our eyes, we turned our horses and took a last solemn view of this little mountain basin, in whose protecting embrace the Re¬ deemer of the world was nursed and trained, and then rode off toward Mount Tabor. Our path led over hills and across grassy glens, without a village or inhabitant. About six miles from Nazareth we reached the foot of Tabor. Trees are scattered over the slopes circling its base, and beyond these its ascent is covered with a green sward to the top. It is a most singular, isolated, oblong mountain, rising alone out of the plain of Jezreel, con¬ nected with the mountain range of Galilee by a narrow neck of rising ground. Its height is about 1800 feet above the Mediterranean, and TOO above Nazareth. Our horses labored for about an hour up the winding path. The area of the top is about a mile in diameter. Over this is strewn a confused mass of ruins, of churches, con¬ vents, and dwellings of different periods of the world. Trees, thistles, and tall rank grass, with variegated flow¬ ers, grew out from among the loose stones and crumbling walls. TABOR. 421 CHAPTER XIX. 31 frnm fabor — ®jie Sba at ®ibBrias. What a view from here ! Only several miles south of us, at the foot of little Hermon, lay the small village of Endor, where the witch raised Samuel for Saul. West of it is the ‘‘ city called Nain,” at whose gate Christ raised a widow’s only son, — now a small Arab village. This whole charming plain of Jezreel spread out before us like a panorama, with its “ cities ” dwindled down to Arab hamlets, its grass, grain, and flowers blending into a sea of soft and slightly varying colors, here and there dotted with herds and herdsmen reduced to a mere speck, — the whole a paradise of spontaneous growth, now populated with plundering Arabs, “Where every prospect pleases, And only man is vile. Immediately below us, at the foot of Tabor, a tribe of 3000 Bedouin warriors were encamped. By means of a spy-glass, I had a distinct view of this army of modern Ainalekites. Their noble, neighing war -steeds were picketed around the long, black tents, with the spear of his master stuck in the ground near each one. A few cattle and camels were grazing around the tents. They pretended to prepare for battle with another tribe, but 36 422 RAVAGES OF THE ARABS. their real mission was to plunder the fields of Galilee. The harvest is beginning to ripen, and these Ishmaelites have come from the Arabian Desert to rob the poor fellahins of their crops. These are the plundering foes of Palestine, — the terror of the ancient Hebrews, as well as the scourge of its present inhabitants — who annually repeat their foraging invasions in some form or other. The Arab peasants scratch up the rich loamy soil of the valleys, and sow their seed ; but when their much-needed crops ripen, the bands of these sons of Ishmael and Amalek stream •up from the wilderness, like swarms of locusts, destroy their harvests, and drive off their herds and flocks. Thus the farming tribes of Palestine are often brought to the verge of starvation. This accounts for the fact, that so large a part of this beautiful and fruitful country lies unimproved and uncultivated. It is the old feud between Ishmael and Isaac — between Jacob and Esau, which has blighted the Land of Promise for thirty centuries. So the land was scourged in the days of Gideon. “ Because of the Midianites, the children of Israel made them the dens which are in the mountains, and caves and strongholds,” in which to hide their grain and seek shelter. “And so it was, when Israel had sown, that the Midianites came up, and the Amalekites, and the chil¬ dren of the East, even they came up against them, and destroyed the increase of the earth, till thou come unto Gaza ; and left no sustenance for Israel, neither sheep nor ox nor ass. For they came up with their cattle and their tents, and they came as grasshoppers for multitude; for both they and their camels were without number ; and they entered into the land to destroy it.” Judges 6. The two chiefs or Sheikhs of those Bedouin warriors, THE MIDIANITES AND AMALEKITES. 428 “ Zeba and Zalmunna,” kings of Midian, have their strik¬ ing counterparts in modern Bedouin chiefs. They were arrayed in scarlet or purple mantles, riding camels, with chains about their necks. Judges 8 : 21-26. These “ Midianites, and Amalekites, and the children of the East,” were gathered together, and went over and pitched their tents in the Valley of Jezreel. The poor Israelites were in great terror ; for they had neither army nor leader. The Jews fled to the mountains and upland val¬ leys, and tried to hide their harvests. Gideon, a valiant son of Manasseh, threshed his father’s wheat by stealth, at his wine-press, where the angel of the Lord appeared, and called him “a mighty man of valor.” Then he “sent messengers throughout all Manasseh; who also was gathered after him ; and he sent messengers unto Asher, and unto Zebulon, and unto Naphtali, and they came up to meet him.” Judges 6 : 33-35. He and his men were encamped over there on Mount Gilboa, near a spring of water; and down toward the Jordan, the Midian- ite multitude spread over the green earth. Gideon had collected an army of thirty-two thousand men ; but, that the power of God might be more signally shown, this number is reduced to three hundred. One night, he takes a servant with him, and comes down into the plain, where the enemy “ lay along in the valley, like grass¬ hoppers for multitude, and their camels were without number, as the sand by the sea-side,” at the western end of Jezreel. The thousands of Bedouins were stretched on the earth, wrapped in unconscious slumbers, sweetened by the weariness of their plunders on the previous day. As Gideon softly treads along the edge of the encamp¬ ment, one of the Midianites is startled from his sleep by a singular dream, which he at once relates to a companion 424 THE PHILISTINES . near him, in the hearing of Gideon ; in this he at once discerns a favorable divine omen. He bounds off to Gil- boa, rallies his three hundred select followers, who, with blazing torches, filling the dark air with lights of lurid glare, rushed down upon their slumbering foes. The trumpets were blown, and the shout of Israel, terrible “as the shout of a king,” reverberated over the plain, in the dead hush of midnight. Confusion and a pande- monial noise ensued, so peculiar to the Arab race, “and the Lord set every man’s sword against his fellow, even throughout all the host.” They fled; and Gideon pur¬ sued them across the Jordan, far into their own desert, and destroyed the army, with the two chiefs, Zeba and Zalmunna. It was a grand victory, long after sung by psalmists and prophets in strains of sweetest poetry. Judges 6 and 7. The Philistines had been twice defeated in the moun¬ tains of Judea. The third time, they came up along the sea-shore, and lured the army of Saul out of their moun- * •/ tain passes into “the valley of Jezreel.” “The Philistines gathered together all their armies to Aphek ; and the Israelites pitched by a fountain, which is in Jezreel.” 1 Sam. 29 : 1. About thirty minutes east of the present village of Jezreel there still is a large fountain, emptying into a basin, — with w’ater of crystal clearness — forty or fifty feet in diameter, containing a large number of small fishes. As water was necessary for “ a garden of herbs,” and this being the only never-failing fountain in the neighborhood, perhaps the vineyard which Ahab vio¬ lently wrested from good Naboth was near here ; for it was “hard by the palace of Ahab, King of Samaria.” 1 Kings 21 : 1. This view from Tabor embraces the whole arena of THE WITCH OF ENDOR. 425 battle. On a clear hazeless day, even the fountain of Jezreel is seen, dazzling in the sun. From the slopes of Gilboa, Saul had a distant view of all the Philistine host encamped around Shunem, and when he saw them ‘‘ he was afraid and his heart greatly trembled.” Samuel had died, and Israel had no other Judge or prophet to consult. Saul inquired of the Lord, but received no answer on account of his sins. In Eastern countries there were then, as there still are, many superstitious people who consulted witches, persons who professed to have intercourse with the spirit world, to obtain a know¬ ledge of future events. Saul thought he had destroyed or banished all these, according to the law of Moses. Deut. 18 : 10. To this day a number of caves remain in the rocks of the little Hermon, around Endor. In one of these a witch who had escaped had her concealed abode. In his extremity he inquired for “ a woman that hath a familiar spirit,” and his servants referred him to the witch of Eudor. A low mountain ridge, one of the eastern roots of Hermon, hid it from the view of Saul, who was some five or six miles ofi*. In coming here he must pass the Philistines. He lays aside his royal robe and puts on common clothing, so that the witch and his enemies should not recognize him ; then mounts his beast, and with two men, under the cover of night crosses the ridge not far from the Philistine encampment, and seeks an interview with this woman in the cave. The result so disheartened him, ‘Ghat there was no strength in him.” The different localities, Shunem, Endor and Gilboa, all but the first seen from Tabor, so distinctly point out the sev'eral parts of this thrilling drama in Hebrew history, that one almost fancies to see the reality again transpiring before him. 1 Sam. 28. 36* 426 COOKING IN THE EAST. Witch as she was, the woman possessed the virtue of primitive hospitality. The narrative gives us an idea of the culinary skill in the Orient. She had a fat calf in her cave, which she speedily killed, and baked unleavened bread. No time to raise the dough here. The Arabs are expert bakers. A very few moments will suffice to mix a few handsful of unbolted wheat or barley with water, work it into a large flat cake and bake it on coal ashes. But to kill a calf and prepare it for Saul, when their interview must already have been protracted till past midnight, cannot be so easily done acccording to established rules of killing and cooking. In Eastern countries the people do not waste so much precious time to gratify the physical man, as in those of the West. I was often surprised to see with what little time and cere¬ mony our Mohammed and the Bedouins would despatch and cook a sheep. In Cincinnati, we are told, they drive hogs in at one end of a narrow entry, and they come out at the other in the form of hogsheads of lard, sausages, bacon, and ham. But these Bedouins, without slaughter houses and butchering apparatus, are not a whit behind the most skillful American pork establishments. A calf or sheep is driven into the tent, and in a time incredibly short, it turns up on a large tray in the form of stewed veal or mutton, buried in half a bushel of cracked wheat, or boiled rice. This art was equally understood in Old Testament times. When Abraham entertained his three angel visitors, he ‘‘ ran unto the herd, and fetched a calf tender and good,” and told Sarah meanwhile, “ quickly make ready three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes upon the hearth.” The calf was handed to a young man ‘‘ who hasted to dress it.” Gen. 18 ; 1-7. While the angelic guest of Gideon was waitirg “under DEATH OF SAUL AND JONATHAN. 427 the oak,” he went “and made ready a kid, and unleav¬ ened cakes of an ephah of flour : the flesh he put in a basket, and he put the broth in a pot and brought it out unto him under the oak.” Judges 6 : 19. In like manner the witch of Endor, when the night had already been far spent, and her royal guest seemed impatient to hurry to the field of battle, “ hasted and killed it, and took flour and kneaded it, and did bake unleavened bread thereof.” 1 Sam. 28 : 24. The next day came the battle. Israel fled before the Philistines up to the heights of Gilboa, where a large part of them were slain. From where we stand a spec¬ tator, with the aid of a spy-glass, could have seen the whole sad tragedy. Saul and Jonathan fell. A roving Amalekite, like his modern Bedouin countrymen, who wander and prowl over Gilboa, chanced to see the dying king, and at his own request, put an end to his sufferings, and brought his crown and bracelet to David. Then the royal singer bewailed the death of Saul and Jonathan in that plaintive dirge, which will continue to evoke soothing tears from bereaved hearts so long as the Bible will be read by a mourning mortal. ' “The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places; How are the mighty fallen! • ••••••« Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, And in their death they were not divided: They were swifter than eagles, They were stronger than lions. How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle I 0 Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. i28 BETH-SHAN — JABESH-GILEAD. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: Very pleasant hast thou been unto me: Thy love to me was wonderful, Passing the love of women 2 Sam. 1. On a spur of Mount Gilboa, overlooking the Jordan and the valley of Jezreel, is the modern village of Beisan, once the city of Beth-shan. 1 Sam. 31 : 10. It was a stronghold of the Canaanites, which the Israelites had never yet taken. Hither the triumphant Philistines brought the dismembered body of Saul. They hung him and his three sons, to the city wall, and dedicated his armor to the Canaanite idol Astarte, in whose temple they placed it. On the hills of Gilead, beyond the Jordan, was Jabesh- Gilead, a town which Saul had once delivered out of the hands of the Ammonites. 1 Sam. 11 : 1-11. The tidings of their deliverer’s death filled them with grief. Then arose all the valiant men [of Jabesh-Gilead], and took away the body of Saul, and the bodies of his sons, and brought them to Jabesh, and buried their bones under the oak in Jabesh, and fasted seven days.” 1 Chron. 10 : 12. There they remained until David removed them to the “country of Benjamin in Zelah, in the Sepulchre of Kish,” Saul’s father. 2 Sam. 21 : 12-15. For twenty years Jabin King of Canaan had “mightily oppressed the children of Israel.” He was a powerful monarch, having “nine hundred chariots of iron.” At length he sent his general, Sisera, completely to subjugate Israel, who brought his chariots and warriors into this plain right below us, between Tabor and Hermon, several miles in width. It was just such an encampment as that of the 3000 Bedouins we see here now, only much OVERTHROW OF SISERA. 429 larger. From remote antiquity the top of Mount Tabor was used as a stronghold. The Romans built castles on it, surrounded by walls, whose ruins are still here. It was a position hard to tiike, which, like the pass of Ther¬ mopylae, enabled a small army to worry and discomfit a host of assailants. Deborah and Barak quickly gathered 10,000 men from the two nearest tribes, Zebulon and Naphtali, and pitched on Tabor. When Sisera would not venture to storm the top, the prophetess said to Barak, “ Up ; for this is the day in which the Lord hath delivered Sisera into thine hand.” “ So Barak went down from Mount Tabor, and ten thousand men after him. And the Lord discomfited Sisera, and all his chariots, and all his host, with the edge of the sword, before Barak.” Judges 4. It must have been in winter or early spring, when the Kishon here was very high ; for “ it swept them away, that ancient river, the river Kishon.” The slaughter was so great that this stream must have run red with blood to the sea. Josephus says, that just then a great hail-storm arose and the sleet blew' over the plain, driving full into the faces of the Canaanites, and so blinded their eyes that their arrow's and slings w'ere of no use to them. The river suddenly rose from the rain, overflow'ed its bed, dashed through the army of Sisera, confused the horses and chariots, and swept off the living and the dead. In a highland district of Kadesh a tribe of Bedouin Kenites, who Sisera thought were friendly to him, had pitched their black tents. Leaping from his chariot, he “ fled away on his feet to the tent of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite.” While asleep in her tent, Jael drove a nail into his temples. The last Jewish war in the plain of Jezreel was that in which good King Josiah w'as slain. Pharaoh-Necho, 430 A BLOOD-STAINED VALLEY. King of Egypt, went up to the river Euphrates, against the King of Assyria. Passing through the Valley of Megiddo (Jezreelj, Josiah came out to fight with him, where the archers shot at him, and he was sore wounded. His servants put him in his second chariot, and brought him to Jerusalem, where he died, and was buried in one of the sepulchres of his fathers. ‘‘And Jeremiah lamented for Josiah ; and all the singing men and singing women speak of Josiah in their lamentations to this day.” 2 Chron. 35. Since then, this lovely plain has repeatedly been crim¬ soned with human blood. During the Roman Empire, Gahinus and Vespasian fought fiercely here wdth the Jews. After them came the sanguinary battles between Saladin and the Crusaders ; then Bonaparte slew 25,000 Turks, and in 1832 many thousand Egyptians fell here in battle. Truly, a field of blood ! Such are some of the stirring events which have trans¬ pired in this fairest of valleys. The wild exuberance of its neglected vegetation shows what it might be made by labor and care. It was the portion of Issachar, (Joshua 19 : 18,) lying within this mountain trough ; “ Issachar is a strong ass, couching down between two burdens [mountains].” Away from the laborious, hardy mountain region of his brethren, he lived here in ease, depending for his bread upon the spontaneous produc¬ tiveness of the soil, which begot in him an effeminate and servile spirit. “And he saw that rest was good, and the land that it was pleasant ; and bowed his shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute.” Gen. 49 : 14, 15. When David ascended the throne, Issachar and the two neighboring tribes, Zebulon and Kaphtali, presented him with gifts, indicating the comparative wealth and ALLOTMENT TO THE TRIBES. 481 productiveness of Jezreel. “ They brought bread on asses, and on camels, and on mules, and on oxen ; and meat, meal, cakes of figs, and bunches of raisins, and wine, and oil, and oxen, and sheep abundantly.” 1 Chron. 12 : 40. It is remarkable, what a knowledge of the. geography of Palestine both Jacob and Moses evinced in blessing the tribes. Gen. 49 ; Deut. 33. Jacob was familiar with many parts of the country; but Moses had never set bis foot on its sacred soil. Judah’s portion was in Judea, abounding with grapes and grass. And hence he should “wash his garments in wine,” and his teeth should be “ white with milk,” like that flowing from the full-uddered herds grazing on his pastoral hills. “ Zebulon shall dwell at the haven of the sea” (of Galilee), “an haven for ships.” Asher’s portion extended along the coast of Tyre and Sidon, whose merchants were princes, and which furnished royal robes to the rulers of the earth — “ he shall yield royal dainties.” Naphtali, on the grassy hills of Jordan, “ is as a hind [gazelle] let loose.” Joseph (half the tribe of Manasseh, Joshua 17 : 5-11), in the charming valley around his father’s well, and his own grave, shall be favored with “ Blessings of heaven above, Blessings of the deep [from Jacob’s well] that lieth under, Blessings of the breasts and of the womb.” The hills of Gerizim and Ebal yielded him grass for his flocks, and the sun and moon evoked life out of the plain. “ And for the precious fruits brought forth by the sun, And for the precious things put forth by the moon. And for the chief things of the ancient mountains. And for the precious things of the lasting hills.” 432 THE HILLS OF BAS HAN. Benjamin possessed part of the highlands of Judea around Jerusalem, including the city itself, to the Valley of Hin- nom, on the west of it. “ The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by him; And the .Lord shall cover him all the day long, And he [the Lord] shall dwell between his shoulders/' The “ shoulders” of Benjamin here are Mount Zion and the Mount of Olives ; and between these is Moriah, on which the temple was built, — God’s favorite dwelling-place. Both the Mediterranean and the Sea of Galilee were in sight. Deep down to the east and south the Jordan wound its way along its crooked mountain channel, with green hills and dells rising from its banks. The green hills of Bashan, the possessions of Manasseh, rose and rolled eastward — noble hills, covered with a grassy carpet, on which all manner of cattle still find pasture. Deut. 4 : 43 ; Joshua 20 : 8 ; 21 : 27. Strong Bedouin tribes in¬ habit these mountains, rich in cattle, whmh graze in vast herds from base to summit — large oxen and powerful, like the enemies of David. Psalm 22 : 12. Its rich pastures are often alluded to by the prophets. In pre¬ dicting Israel’s future prosperity, he “ shall feed on Carmel and Bashan.” Jer. 50 : 19. Thus looked these hills when Ezekiel wrote of the fatlings of Bashan ” (Ezekiel 39 : 18) ; when Amos, the herdman of Tekoa, wrote of “ the kine of Bashan ” (Amos 4:1); and when Micah besought God to feed his people “ in Bashan ” (Micah 7 : 14). Among the grassy glades and glens of Bashan are a vast number of deserted towns and cities, adorned with all the beauties of Grecian and Roman art, whose walls still rise in mute and lonely majesty, with MOUNT TABOR. 433 no inliabiiant but the wolf and the hyena. Many of these heaps of ruins evidently date beyond the period of the Roman Empire, and point to some ancient power¬ ful people, of whose history everything save these speech¬ less remains has been lost. Seen from Tabor, Bashan just seems such a land as sacred poetry would delight to dwell on — a land of moors and meadows, of running brooks and bleating herds, of lowlands and uplands, of hill and heath, — all combining qualities which led Ma- nasseh to prefer it to Canaan itself. This region beyond the Jordan belonged to Reuben, Gad, and half the tribe of Manasseh. When Moses had brought the children of Israel into the country beyond Jordan, Reuben and Gad fell in love with this district. And, having a very great multitude of cattle,” they asked Moses and Eleazar the Priest for permission to choose this for their possession, saying, it is a land for cattle, and thy servants have cattle ; wherefore, said they, if we have found grace in thy sight, let this land be given unto thy servants for a pos¬ session, and bring us not over Jordan.” Num. 32 : 1-5. The half-tribe of Manasseh received for their portion these hills of Gilead and Bashan. Joshua 13:30; 17 : 1. Tabor has for fifteen hundred years been regarded as the ‘‘high mountain” on which our Saviour was trans¬ figured. Matt. 17. Luke 9. Br. Robinson has shaken the faith of some in its identity, but in spite of his plausible arguments, I must still cling to Tabor as the Mount of Transfiguration, “ the holy mount ” to which Peter alludes. 2 Peter 1 : 18. It is said that our Lord had just been at Cesarea Philippi, (Matt. 16.) and that he could not have come that distance to Tabor in so short a time. But why not ? “After six days ” the transfigura¬ tion occurred, so that he would at least have had so .3'^ 2 c 434 ROBINSON'S DOUBTS. many days to come hither. Now we made the journey from Tabor to Cesarea Philippi in about two days and three quarters. True, we travelled on horseback, but only rode at a walk, no faster than an ordinary footman could travel. It is furthermore said that at the time of the Trans¬ figuration, a fortified town crowned the top of Tabor, which would not render it a likely place for our Saviour to select for such a solemn transaction. There was a town on the top 218 years before Christ. History says nothing whether it existed at the time of Christ. Jose¬ phus, who lived during the middle and latter half of the first century, speaks of a battle fought here between the Romans and the Jews, in which ten thousand persons were slain. And afterward he himself caused Mount Tabor to be fortified. He caused the top to be enclosed with a wall in forty days, bringing the water and ma¬ terials for it from below, since the persons living on it had nothing but rain-water. This much we have of this city on Tabor, and nothing more. Robinson says, there “appears” to have been a city there. For any argu¬ ment that history or conjecture furnishes, the top of Tabor may have been strewn with ruins during the life of our Saviour, just as it now is. But even if it could be proven that a town existed there, or that a few of the buildings were inhabited, could not the Transfiguration have happened on the sloping shaded mountain side, on whose lofty glades he could have found a place sufficiently retired ? Whatever can be said ag ilnst Tabor, I feel assured that more can be said against Robinson’s new site of the Transfiguration in the neignborhood of Cesarea Philippi. Although Tabor is not named in the New Testament, TABOR AND HER MON. 435 our L rd must have been familiar with it. But six miles from Nazareth, may he not often have ascended it during his sojourn there? for he was fond of mountains. About eighteen miles from the sea of Galilee, Capernaum and Bethsaida, where our Lord lived and taught for three years, and along a thoroughfare of travel between the northern commercial centre of Galilee, and Samaria, and Judea, his eyes became familiar with every feature of Tabor as he passed and repassed it. Then too it possesses a special fitness for such a scene. On account of its extraordinary beauty, the Psalmist alludes to it, in connection with Hermon, as the two representatives of all the mountains of Palestine. Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in thy name.” Psalm 89 : 12. Why only these two from all the other imposing and rare mountains ? Hermon is the highest and TabCr the most graceful of all the mountains in this land of lovely moun¬ tains. Herder, in his Geist der Hebraischen Poesie,” says that in Deut. 33 : 19, Tabor is intended when it is said that Issachar and Zebulon “ shall call the people unto the mountain ; there they shall offer sacrifices of righteousness.” An ancient commentator says on this passage, that it is the mountain on which the Temple ought of right to have been built, had not revelation ex¬ pressly ordered it to be built on Mount Moriah. As it was customary for idolaters to worship in high places, the priests led the people astray on this high place, and thus ‘‘spread a net upon Tabor.” Hosea 5 : 1. With Carmel, Gilboa, Bashan and the grand Hermon looming up pretentiously in the distance, and the little Hermon as its sentinel, it rises out of this grassy flowery plain in solitary grandeur, a mount of matchless beauty, and a fit 436 ROBINSON’S DOUBTS. Stage for heaven and earth, the natural and spirit world, to hold an interview. Thomson, who has spent twenty-five years in Beirut, and who has often visited Tabor, says in his excellent work, entitled ‘‘The Land and the Book;” “No more noble or appropriate theatre for such a glorious manifes¬ tation, could be found or desired. Nor does the fact that there may have been a village on the top at that time, present any difficulty. There are many secluded and densely-wooded terraces on the north and north-east sides, admirably adapted to the scenes of the Transfigura¬ tion. I have been delighted to wander through some of them, and certainly regretted that my early faith in this site had been disturbed by prying critics ; and, after reading all that they have advanced against the current tradition, 4 am not fully convinced.” Though doubting, he still clings to Tabor. Since I have seen it, and seen also the bleak mountains around Cesarea Philippi, it has fixed its image and history in my heart and mind, and in spite of all that has been said to the contrary, I can never think of the Transfiguration without locating it on this beautiful mountain. Here, in sight of Pisgah and Carmel, and in the presence of his three favorite disciples, Moses and Elias had that solemn interview with Christ, and “ spake to him ” of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem, while the Saviour’s face and raiment were transfused with heavenly light and lustre. Tradition has located the precise spot of the manifestation in a little subterranean cave on the top, which has been converted into a chapel with an altar. What a stage from w'hich to look down upon a bloody past, with the Prince of Peace at one’s side ! Moments seemed like months, as act after act passed before my A RUINED KHAN. 43'’ view. Blood, blood, everywhere. Blood on Carmel and at Kishon ; on Gilboa and around this lonely Tabor All around me below, “ I heard the ceaseless jar, The rattling wagons, and the wheels of war.^^ But on the top was an outpost on the border of two W'orlds, where angels and men, apostles in the flesh, and prophets in heaven met half way, to have an interview with the Messiah. Reclining on the soft green sward under the cooling shade of Tabor’s top, after a weary pilgrimage, with the memory of assailing robbers and a shadeless waterless desert still fresh in his mind, one feels in a fit mood to say with Peter, “ Lord, it is good to be here.” We descended the mountain toward the north, through a forest of tall stately oaks, and then proceeded on our way to Tiberias. Northward from Tabor the plain of Jezreel becomes more undulating, and even hilly. We rode by an old khan, a massive ruin with crumbling walls, arches, gates and towers. In the absence of any towns along the road here, this was built to afford shelter to travellers. On an opposite hill were the ruins of what must once have been a strong castle. For awhile we rode, single file, along a path which dwindled away until it was almost lost in the wheat-fields. Thinking that we had wandered from the regular path, Ahmed asked the way of an Arab woman we chanced to meet, dressed in the garb of peasants and poor women — blue cotton steeped in dirt. She said we were wrong, and sent us over neighboring hills, through pathless wheat-fields, over rocks and ravines. Finally we wan¬ dered into a field of thistles, as thick and tall as hemp. 37* 438 THE SEA OF GALILEE. Sailing on a sea of thorns is not the most pleasant voyage. Still onward we tried to urge our horses, biting the lips as the prickly waves swept around us with sting¬ ing effect. The end not being in view, we called upon Ahmed to pilot us back out of this thorny dilemma. The poor fellow wheeled his horse around to return, but seemed greatly mortified that an Arab woman should thus send him, an experienced dragoman, adrift on such a sea of trouble, and that too where there was no chance to ask anybody else. Riding in advance of us, he kept muttering to himself — I do not know, w^hether prayers to Allah for deliverance, or curses upon the woman who had misled us. Finally he set to boxing his ears, hitting earnest cracks at his head, until I felt alarmed that the man was going crazy. He imputed all our trouble to the woman, and applied epithets to her which were anything hut complimentary. Finally, after two hours wandering not knowing whither, we reached the top of the hills which girt the Sea of Galilee. ' But what a scene meets us here ! Deep down in this mountain enclosure lay the crystal lake, in a kettle, like a volcanic crater, a thousand feet below the level of the country. Hitherto we have passed through limestone regions, hut from this northward one meets with volcanic formations. From these hills outward spreads a rolling table-land. To our left, the long ridge of the hills of Galilee on the west terminates northward in a square¬ shaped hill with two tops. At its base is the small vil¬ lage of Hattin, from which the hill is called “ the Horns of Hattin,” sometimes also the Mount of the Beatitudes. On one side it touches the fruitful plain of Genessaret. It is not a cliffy hill, but slopes gently upwards toward its grassy oval tops. On one of these our Saviour was. SALADIN AND THE CEUSADERS. 439 with his disciples, after he had been teaching and preach¬ ing in Galilee, healing all manner of sickness, and all manner of disease among the people.” Matt. 4 : 23. Seeing the multitude which had followed him, he came down from the top to the grassy platform, and stood in the plain. This explains the seeming contradiction be¬ tween Matthew and Luke ; one saying that ‘‘ he went up into a mountain,” and the other that “he came down in the plain.” Both are true ; since the plain is on the mountain, from which the two horns rise still higher. There, in the presence of “ his disciples and a great mul¬ titude of people out of all Judea and Jerusalem, and from the sea-coast of Tyre and Sidon, which came to hear him, and he healed of their diseases,” he preached that Sermon of sermons, called the Sermon on the Mount. Matt. 5, 6, 7 ; Luke 6 : 17-49. At least such is the tra¬ dition ; and, whether that sermon was preached entire in its present form or not, I can conceive of no more suitable pulpit and temple for the Divine Preacher and his audience. Around this mount the Crusaders fought their last battle. On the fifth of July, 1187, the army of Saladin was encamped around the base of the hill ; the Crusaders were encamped on the long ridge. The attack was made — Saladin stormed the Christian intrenchments, routed his enemies, and hacked them to pieces ; and since then Moslems have been the lords of Palestine. It was going toward the middle of the afternoon as we leisurely wound our way down the rolling hill-side. The sun shone with unwonted heat, which the gleaming lake in the distance seemed to reflect and intensify. A few Arab women, with skins of water on donkeys, relieved our burning thirst ; for our water had become unfit to 4-^0 THE SEA or TIBERIAS. drink. What a scene and taste to suck water from a skin, through the end of a goat-leg, with the wrong side out, glistening in the sun, like a black hog with the bristles shaven off and the lard oozing through every pore, — and the inside lined with the original hair, which may mingle with the potion he drinks ! May all be ; but necessity knows no law — and just then and there the hair and greasy outside, and the goat-leg, at which many a son and daughter of Ishmael had sucked and slaked their thirst before, gave me little trouble. The kindness of the swarthy women, in giving the stranger drink, led my thoughts away from the skin to Rebekah and Eliezer at the well in Mesopotamia. Gen. 24. We dismounted immediately below the town of Tibe¬ rias, on the sea-shore, where our muleteers had already raised the tents, and tethered the baggage horses around them. Soon Mohammed sent Firage with a cup of coffee, our invariable beverage as soon as we encamp ; and then we strolled along the shore — gathered pebbles and little black' sea-shells, as mementoes of our visit. But how different the Sea of Galilee now from what it was when Jesus sailed on it, and Peter, James, John and Andrew mended their nets along the coast and caught its fish! Then a number of large cities graced its banks — Mag- dala, Capernaum, Bethsaida, Chorazin — now there is none but this miserable half- Jewish town of Tiberias. Then it was white with the sails of trading ships ; now not a sail streams over its waters. No bark or boat is seen. The last boat that was borne on its bosom Lieu¬ tenant Lynch took with him down the Jordan rapids to the Dead Sea. Then it was alive with fishermen, ‘‘mend¬ ing their nets ” along the shore and on board their ships ; drawing up quantities of fishes, so heavy that the nets DESCRIPTION OF THE LAKE. 441 were torn in twain. Now nought but occasional hooks are cast in from the shore by the few who pay the Govern¬ ment for this privilege. But the sea is all alive with fish. They fioated familiarly around me while bathing, and leaped above the water in all directions. And most excellent diet they furnish. We had them on our table, such as Ahmed bought from one of the few fishermen still here ; just such as “ the two fishes ” and “ the few little fishes” with which Jesus fed the multitudes, all caught in this same sea. The sea of Galilee is about fourteen miles long, and in its broadest parts seven miles wide. It is simply an ex¬ pansion of the Jordan into a large basin. The river empties into it at the northern and ‘emerges from it at the southern end. According to some authorities it lies six hundred feet lower than the Mediterranean. It is edged around by mountains which keep a little aloof from the sea, leaving a narrow beach clear around its edge. These enable you to take in its whole extent with one view. And where the atmosphere is so clear as here in the East, without haze or moisture, the opposite shores seem to be so near each other, that its reputed size seems almost incredible. All the hills around it are strewn with more or less grass, which seen in the distance blends with the bleaker colors of half-concealed earth and rocks, with the most pleasant effect. And then when the hills cast their long deep shadows across the sea while the sun-light still lingers on the eastern heights, they looked as if the touch of a magic pencil had suddenly swept celestial colors over their canvas. Higher and higher rose the shadow after the departing sun toward the hill-tops. But for a while even the shades of night were tinged with twilight hues, and the half-hid hills still shone with soft 442 THE UNBELIEVING CITIES. rose-colors. Then came night, and the stars — the starry heavens all in the sea, reflected on its spotless bosom. Coleridge says : It is only by celestial observations that terrestrial charts can be constructed.” So by the Incar¬ nation of Christ the heavenly is mirrored in the earthly, the Divine in the Human. The starry heavens reflected on the glassy surface of the lake — it was an image of the believing human heart. Such are the natural features of the most sacred sheet of water on the face of the globe. No place can be found all the world over, which has been the theatre of so many miraculous and Divine manifestations as this. While Nazareth was the home of our Saviour’s childhood and youth, this region was the home of his manhood and miracles. Here were Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Caper¬ naum, in which for three years ‘‘most of his mighty works were done and because of their failing to improve them it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon, and the land of Sodom in the day of Judgment than for these cities. Matt. 11 : 20-24. And how literally this has been fulfilled ! The places of Tyre and Sidon are still known and seen, but no one can tell where stood these woe-afflicted cities. Some imagine to have found Caper¬ naum in a few crumbling walls, but thus far little is known concerning any of them beyond conjecture. Thus the doomed cities have not only perished, but their places have been lost and forgotten. “ The sea of Galilee ” is never mentioned in the Old Testament, but reference is repeatedly made to it as “ the sea of Chinneroth,” “the sea of Cinneroth,” and “the sea of Chinnereth,” all meaning the same sea. Numbers 34 : 11 ; Joshua 12 : 3; and 13 : 27. Sometimes these names occur without being connected with the sea, when ANCIENT PROSPERITY. 443 they designate either a town on its hanks, or the district of country around it. Joshua 19 : 35. It was made a boundary mark in the distribution of Canaan among the northern tribes, (Deut. 3 : 17), and one of the fenced or walled cities of Naphtali. Joshua 19 : 35. In the New Testament this sea reaches its highest destination. The fertile border around the shore was cultivated like a garden. The hills were covered with herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. On the western and north-western side of the sea, the hills separate and re¬ cede inland, forming a level plain of five miles wide, and six or seven miles long, which even in its present ne¬ glected condition teems with fertility. This plain is “ the land of Genesaret ” of the Gospel. Matt, 14 : 34. Four springs send copious streams over the plain, which are a great blessing in this depressed warm region, and help to cover it with a tropical vegetation. It is a per¬ fect garden spot, reminding one all the while of the valley of the Nile. This lake and plain were moreover along the great thoroughfare of trade, between Babylon, Damascus and Palestine. All around the sea wealthy cities were planted, which carried on a busy trade with each other by means of ships. All this combined to make this an influential region, the centre of Galilee and northern Palestine. It was no stirless retired spot, where Jesus sought rest from the passions and corruptions of men in solitude, but the heart and metropolis of the social and commercial life of Syria and Canaan. For this rea¬ son He dwelt here in preference to Jerusalem or any of the other cities of the Holy Land. Nowhere could He have found such a prolific soil into which to sow the seed of Life. 444 CHRIST IN GALILEE. Galilee then was a swarming hive of busy life. It contained over four hundred cities and villages. It was spoken of as upper and lower Galilee. That part border¬ ing on Samaria, including the plain of Jezreel and Naza¬ reth, was lower, and the more mountainous portions along the foot of Lebanon constituted upper Galilee. Our Saviour coming from Nazareth hither, goes into Galilee (upper Galilee). Matt. 4 : 12-13. This part, according to Strabo, was partly inhabited by Gentiles, Phoenicians, Syrians, Arabs, and Josephus says even Greeks. For this reason the northern portion came to be called ‘‘ Gali¬ lee of the Gentiles.” Matt. 4 : 15. They were industri¬ ous mountain people, but the Jews living here were des¬ pised by their brethren of Judea, for being mixed up with Gentiles and acquiring their rude dialect. For this reason too the Apostles were reproachfully named ‘‘ Galileans,” and Jesus “ the Galilean.” Here lived the Jewish sects in common with the Gen¬ tile races of Syria and Arabia. The people were less prejudiced, but perhaps more corrupt, here, than in the Holy City. They were more ignorant, but less envious. All the vices of trade and the licentiousness of Gentile manners, poured into this mountain metropolis. Here were all those diseases which are the offspring of corrupt manners. These furnished abundant occasions for the exercise of Christ’s miraculous power. Hither he came to call sinners to repentance, to seek and to save the lost. Nowhere could he have found such audiences, and such patients to heal. From here ‘‘his fame” went “through¬ out all Syria.” Matt. 4 : 24. The people streamed “from Galilee, from Decapolis, from Judea, and from beyond Jordan,” and from “that whole region round about.” Matt. 4 : 25. They followed him into the “ villages or FISHERMEN OF TIBERIAS. 446 cities,” and carried “about in beds those that were sick where they heard he was,” and crowded into huts, and even sought entrance through the roof. Mark 2, and 6 : 55. By the sea-side and in the gates of towns he met “publicans” or despised tax-gatherers. Matt. 9 : 9. — Women that were sinners, Roman soldiers, boatmen and fishermen, the sick and the friends of the sick, he found in the tumult and turmoil of the teeming cities. Hither he came when his townsmen at Nazareth rejected him ; “camec?0W7i” from the elevated hills of Galilee into this deep mountain-basin. Matt. 4 : 13. And when he came the words of the prophet were fulfilled: “The land of Zebulon, and the land of Naphtali, the people which sat in darkness saw great light.” Isaiah 9:1; Matt. 4 : 15. The tribes of Zebulon and Naphtali bordered on thd banks of this sea. The “darkness” here indicates their low and lost moral condition. Here our Saviour found men fishing, of whom he made “ fishers of men.” This sea has ever been famous for the quantity and quality of its finny tribes, on which account two cities on its banks were called the “ House of Fish¬ eries” or “ Bethsaida.” One of these was the home of Philip, Andrew, and Simon. John 1 : 44. Walking along the shore one day, in the early part of his ministry, Jesus saw two brothers, in the act of “ casting a net into the sea, for they were fishers. And he saith unto them. Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men. And they straightw’ay left their nets and followed him.” After a while he spied an old man, with his two sons, in a ship lying at the shore, mending their nets. Them too he called to follow him, “ and they immediately left the ship and their father, and followed him.” Matt. 4 : 18-22, 38 446 CHRIST ON THE LAKE And these brawny, hard-working fishermen became four of the chief Apostles of our Saviour. It was a hard occupation, often requiring them to labor while others slept, and endangering their lives in perilous storms. Once, after they had vainly “toiled all night,” Simon moored his ship in the calm eddy along the shore, and washed his nets. Just then a great crowd pressed Jesus, as “ he stood by the lake.” To escape the incon¬ venience of such a multitude, he entered Simon’s ship, and told him to push it a little away from the shore, so as to get a better , chance to speak to the people; and then he taught the wonder-stricken assembly from the vessel. Then he counselled Peter to launch out into the deep, and throw out his net for a draught. The quantity caught was so great that the net brake. Two ships were filled with the fish, so that they began to sink. “ Peter fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying. Depart from me, for I am a sinful man.” Then Peter, together with James and John, who were his partners, again forsook their ships and followed Christ. Luke 5 : 1-11. Of course, these “ships” were nothing but fishing-boats, easily manned. Although Christ was the maker and controller of all worlds, he yet was subject to earthly rulers — “ the powers that be.” At one time the tax-gatherers asked him for his tribute-money, and he had nothing to pay it with, for he was poor. And Peter, having left his fish¬ ing business, had no means of earning money. Then he sent Peter to the sea-side, with his hook, and the first fish he caught had the needed money in its mouth. “ That give for me and thee,” said Christ. Matt. 17 : 24-27. The crucifixion of Christ inflicted grievous discourage¬ ments on his disciples, which even his resurrection could GREAT HAUL OE EISHES. 447 not at once remove. There might have been some show of reason to follow him before his death ; but to persist in following a man on whom rested the curse and igno¬ miny of the cross, would he to share his shame, and, in the eyes of most people, an act of sheer madness. They could not go forth to preach, for they had not yet received the Holy Ghost. They had received momentary glimpses of the risen Saviour, but still he appeared as if by stealth. What should they do? Whither go? Away from Jerusalem to the home of Jesus among the hills of Galilee ? But even here they must live ; and wherewith buy bread ? Seven of them were together. Simon Peter, who acted as guide and counsellor, “ saith unto them, I go a fishing.” The others consent to follow, and so, in their extremity, they get at their old business. It was not an abandoning of the cause of Christ, but an efibrt honestly to get their daily bread. For a whole night they labored, but ‘‘caught nothing.” It was a dreary night to them. There was the little, sad company of seven in their boat on the lake. In the hush of morn¬ ing, before the surrounding villages woke to the hum and hurry of daily toil, they spied through the first grey light of dawn a solitary figure “on the shore.” Through the still air came a gentle voice, after the endearing manner of the East, “ Children, have ye any meat?” They sadly answer, “No.” He who is afflicted in all our afflictions, knew the distress of their hearts, and came to fill the hungry. Again, he tells them where to cast their net, which they are not able to draw “ for the multitude of fishes” it contained. The loving heart of John first recognized the Master. After the manner of Eastern fishermen, they had thrown aside their coarse, loose tunics, whilst struggling with their nets. Peter 448 JESUS WITH HIS DISCIPLES. hastily put on his fisher’s coat, together with his girdle, leaped into the lake, and dashed through the shallow water out to Jesus, while his companions dragged the net to the shore, which he then helped to pull on the land. Jesus then invited them to eat “ bread and fish”; and this was “the third time that Jesus showed himself to his disciples after that he was risen from the dead.” John 21. THE SEA OF GALILEE. 449 CHAPTER XX. %\t jof inlike — €\t Maters ai llernm — Cesaren flilipi. _ # The Sea of Galilee is still subject to tempests. Sud¬ den gusts of wind sometimes rush down the ravines and mountain-gorges, resembling violent whirlwinds, which soon lash the lake into boiling fury. So our Saviour once entered a boat, with His disciples, and there came down a storm of wind on the lake. He was asleep. The boat filled up, and the affrighted disciples awoke Him ; and He rebuked and calmed the raging of the water.” Luke 8. Once He told His disciples to get into a boat or ‘‘ship,” and go to the other side of the lake, — to Bethsaida and Capernaum ; He, the meanwhile, sent away the people that had crowded around Him, and went away from the beach to one of the neighboring hills that rise around the lake, to pray. The boat encountered a strong head¬ wind ; so that, after rowing till toward morning, they had only made a distance of three or four miles — not more than half across. On the dark sea they saw some¬ thing w’alking, which they took to be “a spirit” or ghost, according to the prevalent superstitions of those countries, both in ancient and modern times. For who 38 * 2d 450 CHRIST AND HIS DISCIPLES. but a “spirit” could walk on tbe sea? They were troubled ; and then He bade them, “ Be of good cheer : it is I ; be not afraid.” Peter, with his usual impulsive¬ ness, wished to run to Him on the water ; but his lack of faith caused him to sink, until Jesus came to his rescue. Then He went on the ship, and the wind ceased. If there were fishing and trading boats on this sea now, such scenes of trial would still be common. Matt. 14. About a mile east from our tents at the southern end of the sea, was the site of the ancient Tiberias, built by Herod, the Goveriior of Galilee, in which he also lived. He called it after the Roman Emperor Tiberius. His brother built another city at the northern end, near the entrance of the Jordan, which he called Julias, after the Empress Julia. Herod had imprisoned John the Baptist over beyond the Jordan. As the Saviour to human ap¬ pearance seemed to make such slow progress with the founding of His kingdom, the good man became doubtful of His Messiahship. Then “ he sent two of his disciples, and said unto him. Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another ?” Matt. 11 : 2-3. He was not taken out of his prison until Herod had him beheaded. The tidings of his death, like the message he had sent, reached Christ at the sea of Galilee. Then He and His disci¬ ples “ departed into a desert place by ship privately.” Mark 6 : 32. It is remarkable how often our Saviour made use of these “ships” or boats to get from place to place. They are the invariable means of travel and communication between different parts of the sea-shore. Among the hills around the lake, are secluded uncultiva¬ ted glens nestled among bluffs and projecting cliffs. They were not inhabited then; places only visited by an oc¬ casional herdsman or shepherd. Although no crops or CHRIST FEEDS THE MULTITUDE. 451 luxuriant trees are raised there, they still contain some grass for pasture. To get away from the press of the multitude our Saviour goes to one of these secluded spots, called “ a desert place,” more from its retirement than barrenness. But even thither the crowd followed Him — five thousand men, besides women and children, whom He fed by a miracle. A lad who had come with the throng had five barley-loaves, fiat, unleavmned, un¬ raised cakes, shaped like a plate, made of coarse ground unbolted barley, just such as our Bedouins, and even our present muleteers, bake and eat. Where came all the people from ? Some from the neighboring cities, and many no doubt were Jewish pilgrims on their way to the approaching feast at Jerusalem. Matt. 14 ; John 6. That there “was much grass in the place” shows that it must have been early in the spring, before it was burned up by the sun. Just now (April 27th) all the hills around the lake look green. This miracle was most probably performed on the eastern side of the sea, where the mountains approach nearer to the shore, and which then, as now, being be¬ yond Jordan, and more exposed to the Bedouin tribes of the desert, was a more retired and less frequented dis¬ trict than that on the west. Along here are still caves, cut out of the rocks for ancient tombs, and others formed by the natural convulsions and volcanic upheavings W'hich this country must have passed through. Here where the ancients deposited their dead, demoniacs or men possessed with devils sought shelter. This was “ the other side ” of the sea, where Christ met two of these wretched beings, “ coming out of the tombs, exceeding fierce, so that no man might pass by that way.” Matt. 8 : 28-34. Neither chains nor fetters could bind them. 452 M A G D A L A. Mark 5. “ Thev wore no clothes, neither abode in any house, but in tombs.” Luke 8 : 27. On the green slope of the hill-side a herd of two thousand swine were led to pasture, into which the evil spirits passed and rushed them down into the sea. The swine-herds must have been Gentiles or apostate Jews, whose love of gain was stronger than their love of God, as the Jewish law pro¬ nounced these animals unclean, and so the Hebrews re¬ gard them to this day. Mohammedans are as hostile to pork as Jews. The hams we used were imported from Europe. Few things lower a Christian so much in the estimation of a Moslem, as to see him eat the meat of such an unclean and foul-habited animal. Most probably that other miracle of feeding four thousand was performed on this same secluded side of the sea. Matt. 15 : 32—38 ; Mark 8 : 1-9. When He wanted to get away from the multitude to a quiet place, it was “on the other side of the sea.” But again the multitude follow Him — stream from far and near, and listen to the precious words which drop from His lips, forgetful of their own wants, for three days. Again He multiplies the little bread on hand to feed the great multitude. Then He took a boat and crossed over to Magdala, a small village whose site is marked by a few hovels and the ruins of a watch-tower, at the mouth of the plain of Genesaret, about three miles from where we had en¬ camped. It was the home of Mary Magdalene, or Mary the Magdalenian, as the oricrinal has it. Mark 15 : 40. The most interesting place around the sea of Galilee, of ancient and modern times, is the plain of Genesaret. Here, undoubtedly, somewhere was Capernaum, where Christ moved and mingled among the towns-people, and healed their sick. When He grew weary of the crowd, He would go apart, alone to a “ desert place ” to pray. GEXEiARET. 458 Much of His time was spent here (Matr. 4 : 13), and many of His miracles were wrought in curino: the sick of this city and yicinity. Here He dwelt, for it was ** his own city/’ Matt. 9 : 1. Here Peter liyed, and here Christ chiefly *‘ dwelt,” during the three years of His ministry. Matt. 4 : 13. Here He healed the centurion’s seryant, and here liyed the nobleman’s son whom He healed. Hither He was coming when He overtook His disciples on the sea, and that most wonderful soul-nourish¬ ing sermon on the bread of heayen, in the sixth chapter of John. He spoke in the synasjosue, as he tauirht in Capernaum.” Here a poor daughter of affliction pressed throuorh the crowd to touch the border of His garment, and Jairus. whose daughter He raised from the dead, ^Mark 5 : was doubtless a ruler or leader of one of the synagogues of Capernaum. Here He opened the eyes of two blind men ; east out the deyil of a man pos¬ sessed, whom He met in the synagogue ; healed a man sick of the palsy, whom His friends had to let down through the roof ; and healed Simon’s wife’s mother of the feyer. Indeed Christ uttered two-thirds of His para¬ bles, and performed two-thirds of His miracles in despised Galilee ; and by far the most of these in the cities and region round about the sea of Genesaret. With reason therefore, could he say that most of his mighty works were done ” in these cities. Matt, 11 : 20. Here at the opening of this charming plain of Genes- areth, all astir the greater part of the year with sowers and reapers. He sat by the sea-side, and when the crowd pressed too closely around Him, He again went into a boat, and addressed them from this floating pulpit. Possibly the plain then presented a busy scene of persons sowing their seed ; for in Palestine they sow several times 454 FERTILITY OF GALILEE. a year, often sow even in harvest. Many simple unlet¬ tered hearers crowded up to hear Him, to whom He makes the sowers preach. We can imagine Him pointing with His uplifted hand to these laborers when He said : “Be¬ hold a sower went forth to sow.” Matt. 13. Passing through the plain I noticed narrow foot-paths, hard with the tramp of man and beast, traversing the fenceless fields in all directions. The skimming scraping ploughs could not turn up these, and the seeds could not strike root into the hard earth. Of course the numerous birds found here will “ devour theih up.” Stony places there are too, along the base of the hills, where a thin layer of earth partly covers the rocks near the surface, too thin to nourish their growth. Large and small bushes of thorns grew on the fields of lazy peasants, which the Arabs call the “Nakb,” and of which Hasselquist thinks the thorny crown of our Saviour was woven, for which their long prickly points would seem to adapt them. No seed, however good, could help but choke among such thorn-bushes as one sees scattered over the cultivated portions of the plain. But the “good ground” here really seems unsurpassed, especially when contrasted with the unimproved hills on the opposite side of the lake. In this country, and especially in Genesaret, the crops of farmers often yield “ a hundred fold ” in a year, as did Isaac’s in the land of Gerar. Gen. 26 : 12. In our country we sow and reap but once a year, but here they sow and reap in less than four months. As our cavalcade strung its line along one of the paths that threaded the waving fields of the plain, I dismounted to pluck a few ears of wheat to preserve as sacred speci¬ mens, — large beardy heads like our Mediterranean, — when lo ! there I found the tares with the wheat, just as FIG-TREES. 455 our Saviour has them. The tares are like our American cheat, whose grains resemble light shrivelled rye. Some had no heads yet, whose leaves and stems looked so much like wheat, that any attempt to pull up the tares would “root up also the wheat with them.” When once they are in the wheat, the best way is to “ let both grow to¬ gether until the harvest.” Fine large mustard stalks grew along the sea-shore in abundance, all in blossoms, amply large enough for “ the birds of the air to come and lodge in the branches there¬ of.” The seven parables in Matt. 13 are most admirably suited for this locality. The “ leaven ” to which he com¬ pares the kingdom of heaven, was of course an article in common domestic use. And in this greedy lake-empire where commercial prosperity kindled a greediness for earthly treasures, “the treasure hid in a field” seems very natural. Here too where many a “ merchant man ” revelled in bloated luxury and wealth, goodly pearls, pure and precious, were doubtless in great demand, as still they are in many parts of the East. The “ net that was cast into the sea ” could still be filled in this lake. It is remarkable how natural, true, and instructive the parables of our Saviour appear, when studied on the ground where they were spoken. These localities furnish impressive illustrations of the teachings of Christ. The fig-trees of Olivet still preach of the second coming of Christ ; the vineyards in the Judean hills, hedged round about with walls and watch-towers in them, speak of the call to labor in Christ’s vineyard ; the numerous shep¬ herds, walking ahead of their flocks, over the south of Palestine and around Jerusalem, calling their sheep after them, seeking the lost and wandering, nursing and pro¬ tecting the weak and young, speak in touching terms of 456 UNENCLOSED FIELDS. the Good Shepherd, whose sheep hear His voice, seeking the lost — more concerned for the one astray than the ninety and nine that are safe at His side. Going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, attended by mounted Turkish soldiers, with sword and spear, to protect you against robbers, resting in the shade of an ancient “inn” by the uninhabited wayside, haunted by many a prowling Barah- bas — all this prepares one to understand and appreciate the mission of the Good Samaritan. Nowhere is one more strongly impressed with the superiority of Christ’s teachings, both in method and substance, than here amid the mountains and dells of this Holy Land. Evermore he deduces his sayings from the most common subjects and scenes of natural and social life — things which peo¬ ple saw and handled, and whose illustrations they could readily understand. It must have been two or three weeks later than now, when Jesus passed through along one of the narrow paths of the unfenced grain-fields of this plain, and his disci¬ ples, being hungry, pulled ofi* some heads, and rubbed the wheat out, and ate it. Luke 6 : L Our Saviour’s allusion to “new wine” in “old bottles” was made at Capernaum, his own city. Matt. 9 : 17. The word bot¬ tles means skins, such as I everywhere saw in use here to transport water, wine, milk, and oil. They are simply goat-skins, with the hairy side turned in, and the neck and legs tied up. While new they are tough and strong, but when old they become dry and brittle, and are easily torn. For this reason our Lord said that new wine, which was not done fermenting, would break the “ old bottles” or skins. No two seas could be more unlike than the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee. The one is a sea of death, with no 457 JEWISH HOLY CITIES. living tiling in it ; the other, a sea of life, teeming with all manner of fishes. The one is bordered bj bleak, bare mountains and gravelly, grassless plains ; the other, hedged round by grassy mountains and this exuberant “land of Genesaret.” And yet no two regions could have been more alike, before the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, than the country around this sea and the vale of Siddim. “ Then that plain of Jordan was well watered everywhere, . . . even as the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt.” Gen. 13 : 10. No better description could be given of “ the land of Genesaret” than this — well watered, and like the land of Egypt along the Nile. May not our Saviour have had the ancient agreement and present contrast of these two localities in his mind when he pronounced a woe on Capernaum? That it should be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomor¬ rah, which once were equally prosperous, was a compari¬ son intended to give a clearer idea of the ruin and deso¬ lation of the curse. The Jew's have four holy cities in Palestine — Jerusa¬ lem and Hebron in the south, and Tiberias and Safed in the north. To these towns Jewish pilgrims mainly resort, and here nearly all the Hebrews in the Holy Land live. Tiberias, near w'hich we had encamped, is surrounded by a wall, except on the side toward the sea. The streets are narrow* and filthy, and many of its inhabitants eke out a miserable existence. Its population is estimated at frofn three to four thousand, about one thousand of wdiom are Jew*s. Like those in Jerusalem and Hebron, they are a forlorn-looking race. Having no taste, and per¬ haps no privilege, for farming, and neither money nor inducements for trade, they possess no means of support. A number of them gathered around our tents with pitiful 39 458 AN EMBARRASSED CLERGYMAN. stories of their gloomy, destitute condition. Safed, the other Jewish Mecca, is in sight of Tiberias, perched on a lofty peak of Mount Lebanon. Tradition says that our Saviour had it in view when he compared the power and prominence of Christian influence to “a city that is set on an hill,” which cannot be hid. Matt. 5 : 14. It can be seen at a great distance, the houses and streets rising like steps up the steep mountain ; and, if it existed then, our Saviour’s allusion to it would not be improbable. We met a German clergyman here, a chaplain in the Prussian army at Magdeburg, who was suddenly deprived of the means of travelling. He had been journeying with the pilgrims whom we- had left at Mount Carmel. Their departure in a steamer left him without a caravan with which to travel. In many a country he might have taken the next stage or train of cars ; but such luxuries being unknown here, and travelling alone afoot being unsafe, he had to bide his time, until a chance caravan might pass along. We left the poor man negotiating with a Jew for a safe transport to Safed, where he hoped to find other means of proceeding toward the sea-coasi and Beirout. , • In the morning before we started, Ahmed rode with me to the hot springs, a few miles south-east of Tiberias, to'ward the outlet of the lake into the Jordan. A build¬ ing over the springs contains bathing-pools, in separate rooms, filled with warm water. A number of naked Arab invalids were lying and sitting around them, like the sick at the pool of Bethesda, waiting for the moving of the water. A few’ were splashing about in the steaming basins, with the hope of washing away their bodily ills. I might have tested the virtues of a hot bath at such an A CONSECRATED SEA. 45t? ancient and celebrated a place, but the diseased bathers looked too repulsive to hazard contact with them in the same pool. From a heap of rubbish we could look over the wall of Tiberias into the city, where we saw the people on their house-tops, some asleep, and others just in the act of getting up. Our path led along the sea for some dis¬ tance, through vast quantities of large oleander bushes in full bloom ; then across the plain of Genesaret. The air was all astir and vocal with birds ; large partridges, pigeons, and doves, cooing plaintively, amid the flowery bushes along the beach. Occasionally a crumbling wall, perhaps the ruined remnant of a once proud city, peeped above the rank grass or grain. On a hill-side to our right, gently sloping down into a green dell toward the coast, we passed a spot which some fancy to be the site of Capernaum. Upon the hilly rim of the lake, we took a parting view of this consecrated spot. Far dowm, the sea glowed and glistened in the morning sun, embraced by a green mountain belt. Most appropriately do the Arabs call it ‘"'the eye of the land,” reflecting the splen¬ dor of the sun and the starry heavens. Its history and natural features leave it without a peer. With no Mont Blanc to look down upon it, like Lake Leman, and no Rhigi like the Vierwaldstatter See, the silvery -headed Hermon has been a witness of its events and vicissitudes since the days of Joshua. Heathen poets love to make their lakes and fountains the favorite abodes of their gods, but where is there another sheet of water which bore the Son of God on its bosom, and fed Him with its fishes ; whose 'waves He pressed with His sacred feet, and calmed when in commotion ? Surely no spot has been associated with His mighty works as the Sea of Galilee. 460 AN ARAB ENCAMPMENT. Far up in the bleak hills we met a solitary ruin which may once have served as an ^‘inn.” In the shade of its crumbling wall we sought shelter from the sun, while par¬ taking of our noon-day meal. Some of the muleteers strayed away from us, which occasioned no little alarm. Finally, we halted in a large rolling plain near a stream of water, and sent a few armed men after them. At the end of two hours they arrived, informing us that they had strayed off on a path directly toward Damascus. After we had encamped, several Arabs from a neighbor¬ ing tribe rode up to our tents, one of whom dismounting, stuck his spear into the ground, washed himself at the stream, then spread his coarse blanket on its bank, and performed his devotions. Warriors and others, when they stop to rest or pray, usually dispose of their spears in this way, just as Saul had stuck his near his holster when asleep in a trench. 1 Sam. 26 : 7. After a while others came along with the flocks and herds (cattle, cows, and sheep), of the tribe. Some of these too said their prayers on the banks of the stream. As the Koran re¬ quires them to wash before they pray, they always per¬ form their devotions, if possible, near a stream or a foun¬ tain. They had rather an intelligent look, and asked why we did not stop nearer their encampment. Our encampment was on the edge of a large level marshy plain, in sight of Lake Merom. Whilst the sea of Galilee has little connection with Old Testament his¬ tory, the Dead Sea and this Lake have none with the New. It is in the midst of a tract of table-land, so marshy in places, that it is difiicult to approach it. A part of its shore is skirted with tall reeds and impenetra¬ ble jungle, the abode of wild fowl and gazelles, such as are found along the southern part of the Jordan. This FINAL DEFEAT OF THE CANAANITES. 461 uppermost lake of the Jordan is about seven miles long and six wide. Here in this low plain around the Lake — “at the wa¬ ters of Merom” — Joshua fought his last decisive battle with the Canaanites. He had commenced down at Jericho, and fought his way northward, until finally the Canaanite races gathered in this bottom district at the foot of Mount Lebanon, to engage in a last desperate struggle, with Jabin King of Hazor at their head. The name of Hazor still lingers at the head of the plain toward Hermon, and Stanley thinks he has found the site of the ancient city in a spot near Cesarea Philippi, marked by a few rude blocks of stone, on a rocky eminence. The heads of the different tribes were assembled around him, with their followers, “ much people, even as the sand that is upon the sea-shore in multitude, with horses and chariots very many.” It was the last desperate effort of the Ca¬ naanites to banish the Hebrew invaders from their soil. Kor the first time Joshua had to encounter horses and chariots in battle. These could have full play along the level shores of the lake. He made a sudden and start¬ ling attack, and threw the enemy into confusion. Terri¬ ble was the slaughter, for the Lord wished this formidable mode of warfare to be exterminated, so as to save his people from their future annoyances. For this reason he commanded Joshua to “hough their horses and burn their chariots with fire.” He slew all that were in Hazor, together with the king thereof. He pursued the fugitive Canaanites far over the western hills of Palestine, and he smote them, until he left none of them remaining. This finished the conquest of Canaan from Beersheba to Dan, from Pisgah to Hermon. Joshua 11. The next morning we proceeded northward over the 89 462 THE BUFFALO. plain. In an hour we reached a brook, with a ruined building, that might once have been a mill. Sections of these marshes are cultivated, and produce heavy crops. At some places flocks of Arabs were ploughing, some with large bufialoes, others with oxen. I need not say that these are a difierent animal from our American buf¬ faloes. They are large, raw-boned beasts, with a thin sprinkling of short hair, of a dark ash- color, coarse skin, large long horns, sometimes growing almost horizontally and half spirally away from their heads. They are not a cleanly animal, as the flies and heat set them to wal¬ lowing in the marshes and mud along the Jordan. If this large, raw-boned, tough animal, with a long tail, which, when chased or frightened, it “ setteth up like a cedar,” be not the behemoth of Job, it certainly bears a striking resemblance to it. He lieth under the shady trees, in the covert of the reed, and fens. The shady trees cover him with their shadow; the willows of the brook compass him about. Behold, he drinketh up a river,-and hasteth not: he trusteth that he can draw up Jordan into his mouth.” Job 40 : 17-23. Here, as in Egypt, they are very generally used for ploughing. Where there are no wagons they of course need no team or wagon animals. Stanley thinks this bufialo is the unicorn of the Bible, which many interpreters take to be the rhinoceros. As this animal is not found in Syria or Palestine, there is some ground to decide in favor of the buffalo. Still the unicorn in Job would not seem to have been a w’orking animal, as these are. “ Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow ? or will he harrow the valleys after thee?” Job 39 : 10. These large animals call vividly to mind the “buffaloes” and bulls of Bashan, for whose hills we saw beyond the Jordan from here. Large herds of cattle grazed over the plain, around the black tent* villages of the Arabs. The unchangeable black goat-hair tents, made precisely as Moses made them at the foot of Sinai, were strung out in irregular streets. The sides were taken down to admit the breeze. Old patriarchal sires, with long grey beards, sat under their canopy, with a numerous flock of half- naked grand-children romping around the tent. Some of the younger women spun with the distaff. We rode up before one of these long tents, and got a drink of milk. It was something between buttermilk and thick sour milk, a nondescript article, ^^which then and there tasted very well. Toward the end of the marshes we passed a large tribe of Arab warriors, encamped here to get ready for a battle with the tribe we met at the foot of Mount Tabor. About four or five hundred saddled horses were picketed around the tents — noble steeds, neighing and pawing the earth with impatience. Each warrior had stuck his spear near his tent, and sometimes near his horse. At noon we reached the Jordan. After riding some distance up its western bank, we crossed it over a stone bridge, resting upon three arches. The river here is lined with a profusion of trees and thick brushwood. While reposing under one of the arches for an hour or two, several Arab boys squatted down beside us ; one a pretty little fellow, with a modest thoughtful countenance and a noble head, surmounted by a red cap and turban. I felt myself drawn toward the lad, so that when we rode away from them, I felt a keen regret. . His physiog¬ nomy brought to mind the probable appearance of young Isaac and Joseph. From here commenced our ascent of Mount Lebanon. 464 MOUNT LEBANON. Through rising upland glades we leisurely rode away from the Jordan, to the music of birds and jingling of the tiny bells strung to the necks of our baggage horses. The path leads over a green turf, and up through a continuous grove. The Jordan ramified into numerous rivulets, which purled through shady thickets, and dashed over wild waterfalls. Trees great and small, willows and tall terebinths (oaks), thick wheat -fields and meadows of rank grass skirted our way. Leafy branches hanging over the path brushed our turbans, and birds frolicked and piped familiarly all around us. At the edge of Banias, the Cesarea Philippi of the Scriptures, at the foot of the great Hermon, we raised our tabernacles for the night. The main branch of the Jordan here issues from a natu¬ ral cave in the mountain-side, a full river of clear sweet water at the start, which dashes wildly away from its large spring down over a succession of waterfalls and rapids toward Lake Merom. In ancient times this cavern was called Paneum, perhaps from its having been conse¬ crated to the god Pan. For there was Oj^time when Greek settlers lived around here, and the Greeks were in the habit of worshipping this god in grottoes or caves. This is one of the sources of this life-giving river, so mys¬ terious and sacred to the Hebrew. What a contrast be¬ tween its origin and its end ! Here it spreads fruitful fields and fragrant flowers in its track, a paradise of vege¬ tation. But its end is in the Dead Sea, from which all life has fled for ever. He that findeth his life, shall lose it : and he that loseth his life for my sake, shall find it.” Matt. 10 : 39.. It is a striking figure of that greatness and merit which has not the patience to acquire solid worth by gradual toil. The Nile begins in a desolate, unattractive region, but ends its career by creating a i THE DANITES. 465 Paradise. The Jordan begins with swelling and loud pre¬ tensions, but ends in a lake of death. This indeed is the destiny of all natural life. “The path of glory leads but to the grave.” Four miles west of this, another branch of the Jordan springs out of the mountain, where the Danites anciently had a stronghold : “ They * called the name of the city Dan, after Dan their father . . . hfwbeit the name of the city was Lalsh at first.” Up tc these rich and irrigated declivities of Lebanon, came the restless, roving Danites in search of a home. Five men were sent to explore the country, “who came unto Laish” and saw that the people dwelt “careless.” “ Six hundred men with weapons of war” went up to take it, who on their way took aw’ay the gods of Micah. They smote the city with the edge of the swmrd, and burnt it with fire, because it was alone and unprotected in the mountain, “far away from Zidon,” having no business or trade with any man. Then as now the land was “ very good, where there is no want of anything that is in the earth.” Judges 18. This was at the northern extreme of Palestine, just as Beersheba was at the extreme south. Hence when the sacred writers wish to designate the whole of the coun¬ try, from north to south, they say “ from Dan to Beer¬ sheba.” Being far removed from Shiloh, the centre of Jewish worship then, the Danites “ set up the graven image” they had taken from Micah, and the Levite they had coaxed away from him, served at their altar until they selected other priests. Judges 18 : 30, 31. It con¬ tinued to be a high place of idolatry until -the separation of the ten tribes, when Jeroboam set up a golden calf here, to save the people the trouble of going all the way down to Bethel. 2e 466 CITY OF BANIAS. Banias consists of about fifty houses or huts. Many of them had leafy tents on the roofs, such as we had found along the foot of Carmel. Most of the people seem to live from their flocks. The pastoral life is the favorite pursuit of Arabs, because the easiest. In the evening the village flocks were gathered into “ sheep-folds ” in the rear of the town. These consisted simply of enclosures, some of wood, and others of stone, low enough for one easdy to ‘‘climb up some other way” without entering “ by the door.” John 10 : 1. Quite a busy scene ensued, when a goodly number of the villagers milked their re¬ spective goats. By the side of the town is the ruined massive masonry of a fortress, the citadel of the ancient city. Other ruins are around the place, and a large one higii ap on a remote mountain-top. An inquisitive swarm of men, women, and chattering children congregated around the camp, watching the cook in the preparation of hi^ unrivalled dishes. By some means or other a vast army • of fleas got possession of our tents, to our almost insuffer¬ able annoyance. I can still see my comrade, half-unclad, diligent in their pursuit, while I divided my time and energies between them and my Journal. To a Christian, Banias is chiefly interesting on account of its connection with Gospel history. Once only our Saviour came up hither, and this seems to have been the northernmost limit of His journeys. He had been utter¬ ing bold truths, and offensive to the Jews. The feelings of His countrymen had reached a crisis, when, — some from timid fear and others from discouragement, — “ many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him.” Even the chosen twelve seemed to meditate also to “go away.” John 6 : 66, 67. Then “he would no longer walk in Judea, because the Jews sought to kill MOUNT HER MON. 467 him,” (John 7 : 1); “he went out, and his disciples, into the towns of Cesarea Philippi,” (not the Cesarea of Cor¬ nelius, which is on the Mediterranean Sea, toward Jop¬ pa.) This rich, well-watered upland district, must have contained a flourishing population, with “towns” or vil¬ lages along the water-courses. Hither on the boundary of the Jewish and Gentile world, to this elevated look-out upon Palestine, He brought His disciples ; and as He went up the mountain way “ he asked his disciples, saying unto them. Whom do men say that I am ? ” Matt. 16 ; Mark 8. And here too He asked that solemn question of the disci¬ ples, “ Whom say ye that I am ? Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God'’* Then Christ blessed Peter, and in sight of the immovable everlasting rocks which tower high above the city, culmi¬ nating in the snow-crested Hermon, against which the storms and changes of time beat in vain. He continued, “ Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” Eusebius says that Mount Hermon is over against Banias, and that Jerome was told the same by his Hebrew teachers. And so it appears from here, rising 6000 or 8000 feet above it, and 10,000 feet above the Mediterra¬ nean. It is the Mont Blanc of Palestine, whose snowy crown is seen from almost every part of the Promised Land, down to the wilted region of the Dead Sea. Leba¬ non, which means the “White Mountain” is only the pedestal of this grand statue of nature. “ It was mount Sion, which is Hermon.” Deut. 4 : 48. Jebel-Es-Sheikh — the “Mountain of the Old Man” — and Jebel-et-Tilj — the “Mountain of Ice” — the Arabs call it. The Sidonians called it “ Sirion,” and the Ammonites called it “ Sheuir.” Deut. 3 : 9. In the Canticles, Solomon represents Clirist 468 EXTENT OE PALESTINE. as inviting the Cliurcli to the top of Shenir and Her> mon,” to view the charming prospect of the Holy Land which it commands. Cant. 4 : 8. The ships of Tyre were built “ of the fir trees of Senir,” which is Hermon. Ezekiel 27 : 5. The snows on its top, always melting and never melted, and the numerous rills that purl down its watery ravines, send up mists which fall gently in soft refreshing showers on the plains at its feet. The peace and unity of brethren diffuse a sweet influence, refresh¬ ing ‘‘ as the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion.” Psalm 133 : 3. The reference is not to Zion at Jerusalem, where no such copious dews fall, but to these mountains which the ancients called Sion. And now we have reached the end of the Land of Promise. From Beersheba to Dan have we journeyed through this goodly land, which Moses prayed on Pisgah to enter — ‘‘the good land that is beyond Jordan, that goodly mountain, and Lebanon.” Deut. 3 : 25. Its smallness disappoints the' expectation of every traveller. It is only about 200 miles from Dan to Beersheba, and about sixty miles from the Mediterranean to the Jordan. And on this little territory lived a nation, the essence and extent of whose influence are greater than those of the mightiest empires in the history of the world. Attica was smaller still, and wielded a marvellous influence on ancient civilization, but not a tithe in comparison with this home of the celestial classics, the birthplace of the Absolute Truth in Time. The one great feature of the country is the range and diversity of its resources. Its climate combines the tem¬ perature of the tropics, with that of the temperate zones. Unlike other Eastern countries, here “the sun will not • A FRUITFUL LAND. 469 smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.” Psalm 121 : 6. In the valley of the Jordan, and especially around the Sea of Galilee, you find a vegetation as rich and rapid in its luxuriant growth as that of the tropics. On the hilly highlands of Judea, and on this southern slope of Leba¬ non, the salubrity of the climate is unsurpassed. No country of equal size contains such inequalities of sur¬ face, and such a diversity of fertile soil. Think of the top of this Hermon, 10,000 feet above the Mediterranean, and the Dead Sea 1300 feet below it, and these two points not 200 miles apart. The bleakest of its hills are pregnant with aromatic herbs, and what mountain could compare with “ the excellency of Carmel” ? Where find herds of kine and cattle like those which still roam over the green hills of Bashan ? Rivers too it has, not large, but rich with sacred associations. Where can you find rivers and brooks with a history like that of the Kedron and Kishon, of Arnon and the Jordan ? But the land depends not upon these for its harvests. Providence has two methods by wLich he waters the earth — rain and rivers. ‘‘Who giveth ram upon the earth, and sendeth w'ater upon the fields” (Job 5 : 10), as he does in Egypt. Here no mediating Nile brings fruitful and barren years, but fertile showers come directly from heaven, and the clouds (instead of rivers) drop fatness. “ It is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh .water of the rain of heaven. The eyes of the Lord thy God are always upon it, from the beginning of the year even unto the end of the same.” Deut. 11 : 11, 12. Even now you can still discern the footprints of that golden age in its history, when it fiowed witli milk and honey. The cliffs and rocks along the Judean ravines drip with the honey of wild bees; the kine of Bashan and Esdraelon (Jezreel), and the full- 40 470 FLOWERS. uddered goats of every village flow with milk. Its cattle still browse on a thousand hills. Eshcol still furnishes clusters from the vine, like those the spies carried on a pole. It was a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills ; a land of wheat and barley, and vines, and fig trees, and pomegranates ; a land of oil-olive, and honey ; a land wherein thou shalt eat bread without scarceness, thou shalt not lack anything in it ; a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass.” Deut. 8 : 7-9. No trees so graceful and grave as the figs and olives of Olivet, the oaks of Carmel, and ‘‘the cedars of Leba¬ non.” Its numerous “flowers of the field,” and the grass that withereth — the sad emblems of human frailty — look as beautiful and green as they did when David, and the Son of David, saw and admired them. The rose still blooms on Sharon’s plain, and the purple “ lilies of the field” still grow without toiling or spinning as they did then. And what a variety of “ the birds of the air,” singing and silent, find a home here, such as even Jesus found not. The eagle that pounces upon its prey, and the puny sparrows, which cannot fall to the ground with¬ out the notice of a watchful Father; the homely lark, flapping heavenward in its cheery song of praise, and the turtle-dove, cooing modestly among the trees and thickets of the Jordan and the Sea of Galilee ; birds of gaudiest as well as homeliest plumage, all build their “nests” and find their homes here. Earth contained no lovelier land than this. It contained all the elements of sublimity and beauty. A distant glimpse of its^matchless prospect re¬ freshed the dim eye of the dying Moses. No land was DEPLORABLE MISGOVERNMENT. 471 SO well fitted to become the native country of Jesus — Emmanuel’s land. No spot on the earth’s surface would have been better suited to become the theatre of the Jewish theocracy, and the starting-place of “the kingdom of God” in the w'orld. It is a Microcosm, a little world in itself, the soft blending of whose seasons, the variety of whose soil, scenery, and products, as well as whose geographical po¬ sition, so well fitted it to become the representative king¬ dom of the world. So that when Satan showed our Sa¬ viour, “from an exceeding high mountain,” the land of Canaan, he had a miniature view of “ all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them.” It was set “ in the midst of the nations and countries that are round about her.” Ezek. 5 : 5. Situated on the borders of three continents — Europe, Asia, and Africa, — along the coast of the Mediterranean, its location eminently adapted it to become the end of ancient civilization and religion, and the beginning of a new era — the geographical centre of the world’s history. While the natural aspect of Palestine is pleasant, in spite of its desolation, its social, political, and moral con¬ dition is most deplorable. Nominally under the dominion of Turkey, the Sultan appoints his governors, who extort tributes from the people, without giving them protection. Not a single road is made or repaired. No wagon or carriage is seen in all this country. Hostile tribes hew each other to pieces ; and the sons of Ishmael come from the Desert and carry off the annual harvests, drive away the flocks, and, if resisted, fiendlike seek revenge in de¬ stroying their last hope of subsistence by cutting down their fig and olive-trees and covering up their wells. No arm of Justice shields the innocent. The anarchical 472 FORESHADOWING EVENTS. days of old have returned. There is no king in the land, and every man does that wliich is right in his own eyes. Judges 21 : 25. The decrepid empire of Turkey is only perpetuated by the jealousy of European Christian pow¬ ers. Whenever it is left to itself it must fall, like an imbecile paralytic. These “‘defenders of the faith” are the means, under Providence, of perpetuating the pre¬ dicted curses sent upon this Land of Promise. All that it needs is, a king — an arm of power, which can bring order out of its present chaos. The recent convulsions in the East, especially in this Lebanon district, promise to hasten the dawn of the morning. Europeans are constructing a road from Joppa to Jerusalem. England, France, and Russia have sent fleets to Syria and Palestine, to quell the recent murder¬ ous outbreaks of Mohammedan fanaticism, and protect the Christians and Jews. Without these, the empire, which nominally curses Palestine with its misrule, would devour itself. Attempts are made to form Christian colo¬ nies in Judea, and Christian Governments build churches in Jerusalem, and thus help to beautify it. Wealthy Israelites, from different parts of the world, are buying lands and making improvements in and about Jerusalem. About four millions of Jews — one-half of the Jews in the world — are at present lingering around the Mediter¬ ranean. They are variously distributed in the cities of Asia Minor, in Constantinople, Smyrna, Alexandria, Cai¬ ro, and Damascus, and spread over Egypt, Syria, and Arabia, including the whole Turkish Empire ; but all looking toward Jerusalem, and eagerly watching and waiting for the flrst signal to invite their return to their ancient possessions. This drifting of half of the Jewish nation toward the Land of Promise is significant just ACCOMPLISHMENT OF PROPHECY. 473 now, when it is rumored that the bankrupt condition of Turkey has disposed the Sultan to sell Palestine, and when the Rothschilds seem to have the means and dis¬ position to buy it. All this looks like the shadow of stirring ‘‘coming events.” “ The isles shall wait for me, and the ships of Tarshish first, to bring thy sons (the Jews) from far, their silver and their gold Avith them, unto the name of the Lord thy God. The sons of strangers shall build up thy walls, and their kings shall minister unto thee. The sons also of them that afflicted thee (the Mohamme¬ dans) shall come bending unto thee. Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through thee, I will make thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many generations.” Isaiah 60 : 9—15. 40* 474 MOUNT LEBANON. CHAPTER XXI. ^nti-lebannn — Jnmastws — §aalljn. On the morning' of the 30th of April, when the dew had already copiously fallen around Cesarea Philippi, we started for Damascus. Just as our cavalcade moved off, the herald called to prayers from the village minaret. In crossing the Lebanon, one must of course expect up¬ hill work. We passed a number of Druse villages, whose inhabitants looked like a thrifty, industrious people. With much labor they had improved their mountain homes, and spread green meadows and wheat-fields over these sterile heights. The women looked remarkably tidy for orientals, some of whom we met at a village brook busy at washing. For a long while we rode along the base of Hermon. The large ravines on its top were partly filled with snow. Far up in Lebanon we took a last fond parting glimpse of the Land of Promise. Clear on the top of the mountain we found well-watered dells, with flourishing grass and grain fields. At the base of a rocky mountain, we reached a village of seventy or eighty houses, where we encamped for the night. A considerable stream, swollen by the melting of the snow on Hermon, roared by it down the mountain. Our arrival proved the signal for a gathering A NOCTURNAL ALARM. 475 of villagers around the camp. Women viewed us from the house-tops, and herds of dogs set up a furious howl¬ ing. Bleak mountains extended all around us, forming a circular basin, which the half-full moon brought to view in a strange and strong relief after night. At the dead of night, when we and the muleteers sweetly enjoyed our rest after the wearisome mountain ride, a sudden flapping Df the tents brought all to their feet ; some felt around for their guns or swords, and we for our tent-door, for the rickety dwelling took such a jerking and reeling, that it threatened to collapse forthwith. Of course we at once thought that the robbers were after us, and Ahmed soon had his whole armed regiment of Syrians after them. In a few moments, the enemy was found and forgiven ; one of our horses having taken a notion to pay us a visit, and becoming entangled in the tent-cords, handled the canvas and pole somewhat rudely. The next morning three Bedouins joined us, likewise going to Damascus. They were mounted on noble Arab steeds, armed with long spears, and said they belonged to the war tribe we met encamped near Lake Merom. They were rather more mirthful and jovial than Bedouins generally are. Eyeing my Arab for a while, one of them challenged me for a manoeuvre, and with that dashed olF in a circle at full speed. Round and round he flew in a narrowing circle, with his spear poised between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, managing his horse with astonishing skill. I knew that it was all in sport, and gave reins to my charger for an encounter, using a cane for a spear. With his nostrils distended he snuffed the air, heedless of bit and bridle. We approached, my an¬ tagonist with his long w^eapon aimed at my breast, his black eagle eye flashing beneath his knit brow ; and just 476 PLAIN OF DAMASCUS. as the horses neared in full dash, he raised the spear for a hurl, and uttered an unearthly whoop that shook my whole frame with horror. The fellow could not have as¬ sumed a more terrific look and posture if he had trans¬ fixed a mortal enemy with his weapon. We are not told whether Saul and his fellow-travellers to Damascus were on horseback, but it is very possible. '“The men that journeyed with him,” were perhaps his escort ; if so, they were armed with such spears, to whom our Bedouin friends must have presented a striking resemblance. Few luxuries are more refreshing to the traveller in ‘ the East than abruptly to emerge out of murky breezeless wastes into shady groves where purling brooks and sing¬ ing birds fill the air with Nature’s melodies. So we rode wearily over the eastern slope of the Anti-Lebanus, where the Arabs extorted stunted crops from the meagre soil. The enervating sirocco had infused languor into every limb, until respiration almost required an effort. From a sterile mountain eminence the vast plain of Da¬ mascus opened to our view a dreary waste, relieved only by a green spot in the distance, w^hich looked from here like an island in the sea. As we approached it, the grand park which envelopes the capital of Syria spread out more distinctly, and the white minarets of the city peered above the tree-tops in fragile beauty. On the edge of this oasis we reared our tents for the night, close by a suburban village. The next morning we rode over winding paths, among mulberry gardens, almonds, pomegranates, apri¬ cots, willows, and tall silvery poplar. The air was redo¬ lent with sweet odors; turtles and cuckoos cooed and flew from tree to tree, and the waters led out into many irrigating channels, diffused a fresh breath in the atmo¬ sphere. ENTRY INTO DAMASCUS. 477 Through a double gateway, with pointed arches, we entered a wide street, one side of which was partly paved. Both sides were lined with men of various crafts, and large heaps of wheat were piled up in front of the houses by the grain-merchants. In half an hour another gate admitted us into a burial-ground, bleak and dreary as all Moslem graves are. No tree or grass was seen, but onlj? graves and gravel. The tombs were walled up like a roof, and plastered. At one end, a little water-pot was walled in containing water, in which a few green sprigs were placed. The most had small erect tombstones at the end of the wall, with an inscription. The plastered wall is white-washed, like “the whited sepulchres” of our Sa¬ viour’s time. Another gate led us “ into the street which is called Straight,” in which Saul of Tarsus lodged. Acts 9 : 11. It is the principal business street of Damascus, lined with bazaars or shops, and roofed over in many places. Though wide for the East, it is narrow compared with the streets in our cities. It was crowded from side to side, a perfect hive of shouting pushing beings. How to get our horses through such a dense mass seemed a serious problem to me, but our muleteers understood their work. Two of them preceded us to prepare the way, striking about them with their arms, and crying at the top of their voices, ^‘■Yemeenak ! sJiimdlak ! roah!'’ (to thy right! to thy left! on!) Then again, riglak ! kaahak ! roah I ” (thy foot ! thy heel ! on !) To this tune our horses bore us through the dense mass Avith a sIoav and cautious tread. A sea of up-turned faces stared at us with sullen mien, but none dared to molest or make us afraid. During the few days of our sojourn here, we abandoned tent-life for the comforts of a hotel, such as it Avas. This 478 SCENES IN DAMASCUS. city of 200,000 inhabitants, has many large khans for the entertainment of Eastern travellers, hut only one for the accommodation of Europeans and Americans, capable of entertaining twelve or fifteen persons. It was on this ‘‘ Straight ” street, a thoroughfare of Damascus, which extends from the eastern to the western part of the city. The roofs of the streets afibrd protection against the sun, and many that are uncovered are so narrow, and the houses so high, that the sun rarely reaches the people walking through them. The bazaars, like ‘those in Cairo, are small chambers, which seldom have any communica¬ tion with the house in which they are included. Shops selling the same articles are generally in the same part of the city, and these rarely sell anything but the one class of goods or ware. So the shops of one section of a street all have shoes for sale, others all have hardware, others all have copperware, and so with every article of traffic. The mechanics are classified in like manner. Black¬ smiths have their shops all together ; so, too, shoemakers, jewellers, saddlers, tailors, etc. The clatter and din of tool and hammer often cause a deafening noise. Ancient Jerusalem was similarly partitioned off for different crafts and occupations. When Jeremiah was imprisoned, he received daily a piece of bread out of the hahers* street” Jer. 37 : 21. The bazaars of this ‘‘ Straight’* street teem with the riches of the East. The stores are small six-by-eight boxes, with an open front, in which the owner sits tailor-fashion, whiffing at his pipe. If a customer comes he is likewise offered a smoke. Many of these are grave, patriarchal-looking men, with white beards, and costly flowing robes. Much of the merchan¬ dizing of Damascus is carried on in the large khans. I) A M A S C U S . A 9 ^ PRIVATE MANSIONS. 479 The ground-floor of the large square court is used for the lodging of travellers and their animals, and on the next story a gallery runs around this court, which connects with store-rooms. In some of these we found some costl}’’ damask goods, and articles from remote parts of the earth. The wealth and splendor of Damascus are not indicated by the external show of the dwellings. Many of these are large, hut none look attractive. The princely man¬ sions of her wealthiest families possess few external attractions. The outside of houses is unpainted, and without the slightest ornament. The walls are of stone or unburnt brick, and have a dull earth-color. These, together with the absence of windows in front, impart a gloomy aspect to the streets. To get a peep behind the dreary walls into the domestic life of Damascus, we called on a number of wealthy families. Our first visit was to a wealthy Greek. A swarthy servant received us at the door, and conducted us through a narrow entry into a large open court within the house. In the centre of this a fountain was playing into a stone basin, with a few orange trees around it bearing golden fruit. All the rooms extended around the square court, with doors and windows opening upon it. All the domestic life is confined within these walls, like a besieged city within its fortifications. The rude exterior contrasts strangely with the gorgeous interior. The most splendid house I saw in Damascus, had the out¬ side appearance of a mud-plastered fortress, while its rooms were adorned with gold, silver, and precious stones. We were led into a series of apartments, all fronting and opening upon this court. The floors were ornamented with mosaic, and the. walls inlaid with gold and shining shells. The main part of the room was elevated some 480 HARD SMOKING. six or ten inches above the rest, with divans placed along the w'alls, perhaps three inches high. Gorgeous as the whole appeared at first, I soon found that it would not bear close inspection. When on the point of leaving, several of the servants pressed us to t^e seats on the divan in a room with an open front, and accept of coffee and pipes. Not being partial to either as used here, we attempted to decline, but found that a refusal would place us in an awkward position. After squatting down about as awkwardly as western travellers generally do, the pipes wmre adjusted — tall glass globes partly filled with water, and a bowl on the top filled with tobacco. Their excellence consists in passing the smoke through the water, and thus extracting the injurious oil before it enters the mouth. A hose of a few yards in length brought me into communication with this apparatus. Whatever may be the virtues of this kind of smoking, it requires a great power of suction to get the smoke through the water, and when it is through it rarely stops before it gets into your lungs. With these pipes you as freely draw the smoke into the lungs as you inhale pure air, which accounts for the prevalence of liver complaint in Arabia. This is a peculiarity of these kind of pipes, and one which ought to banish them from the smoking world at once. With patient gravity we endured this laborious inflic¬ tion of hospitality. It is singular how soon we can ac¬ commodate ourselves to the most opposite customs of dif¬ ferent countries. How ludicrous one would feel at home to squat down cross-legged on the floor of a splendid parlor, and gravely suck smoke through a long hose from a glass bottle of water ; and instead of dofiing his hat, doing the agreeable by occasionally putting his hand to WOMEN OF DAMASCUS. 481 liis breast and head ! But this was not all. The Arab says : “ Tobacco without coffee, is like meat without salt.” This was served in tiny cups set in other cups, without sugar or cream. Unsettled of course it had to be, for according to oriental notions, the essential virtue of good coffee consists in the grounds. In another apartment, a Greek priest indulged in the same luxuries. The second house we called at resembled the first in its arrangement. Indeed they are all alike, having the entrance, court, fountain, basin, rooms, all arranged in the same manner. The lady of the house received us at the door, and, followed by a servant, showed us her bril¬ liant dwelling. She was handsomer than most of her sex here. A profusion of gold was braided into her black locks, which dangled carelessly over her shoulders, while her brow was wreathed with a coronet of flowers. She w^alked on clogs, wooden shoes about six inches high, which gave her a shuffling step. The females seen in the streets do not look quite so squalid as those in Cairo. Except the few of the better classes, they are all dressed either in white, or with blue linen, or cotton. And, as in Egypt, they seem more scrupulous to cover the face than any other part of the body. It is said there are over 300 mosques (temples) in Da¬ mascus, many of which are of great size and beauty. There are many so-called schools, which however do not amount to much. If at all in operation, they at most have only a few scores of children, and only boys, usually squatting on the bare ground, while a grey-bearded sheikh sits knitting in a corner, as he leads them see-sawing over a few leaves of the Koran by rote, all shouting its verses in unison. Few learn to read, and fewer still to write. Lane, in his Manners and Customs of the Modern 41 2 F 482 AN INCOMPETENT TEACHER. Egyptians, gives a specimen of an Egyptian teaclier, ■which suits equally for the latitude of Damascus. A man in his neighborhood, in Cairo, who could neither read nor write, was called to the office of a schoolmaster. Having committed the Koran to memory, he could hear the boys recite their lessons ; to write them, he employed the head boy in the school, pretending that his eyes were weak. A poor w'oman brought a letter, received from her son, which she wished him to read for her. He pretended to read it, but said nothing. The woman inferring from his silence that the letter contained bad news, said to him, Shall I shriek?” He answered, Yes.” “ Shall I tear my clothes,?” she asked; he replied, ^‘Yes.” So the poor woman returned to her house, and with her as¬ sembled friends performed the lamentation and other ceremonies usual on the occasion of a death. Not many days after this her son arrived, and she asked him what he could mean by causing a letter to be written stating that he was dead ? He explained the contents, and she went to the schoolmaster and begged him to inform her why he had told her to shriek and to tear her clothes, since the letter was to inform her that her son was well, and he has now arrived at home. God knows futurity ! ” said the sage schoolmaster. How could I know that your son would arrive in safety ? It was better that you should think him dead, than be led to expect to see him, and perhaps be disappointed.” Whereupon some of the persons present, exclaimed, Truly, our new fikee (school¬ master), is a man of unusual judgment.” And for a little while he found that he had raised his reputation by this blunder. The Moslems here are zealous in their own way. I repeatedly saw merchants reading the Koran to some THE FAST OF RAMADAN. 483 blind man, or one that could not read himself, while they waited for a customer. Here, as in Egypt, religion is almost exclusively confined to the men. Ahmed remarked to me that women were expected to pray at home, and therefore attended no worship in the mosques. But he acknowledged that not one in ten of those remaining at home ever prayed. ‘‘But how is that, Ahmed?” I re¬ plied ; “ should not women be pious as well as men, ami has the Prophet no room for them in heaven, that your religion neither teaches them to pray at home, nor invites them to do it in the mosques?” “It is too bad, my master, but so it is,” he replied. “Mohammedan women have very little religion.” It w^as the fasting season when we were at Damascus, the month of Bamadan, during which the Koran says all faithful Moslems must abstain from eating, drinking, smoking, smelling perfumes, and even intentionally swal¬ lowing spittle. Every day from dawn — when there is light enough to distinguish a black thread from a white one — till sunset, they must practice this abstinence. When Ramadan falls in summer, the abstinence from water is a severe trial. Soldiers in war, or persons on a journey, and others, are exempt from the duty. Not¬ withstanding this, Eirage, our Nubian boy, has strictly kept the fast on our journey. In spite of our remon¬ strance, he travelled from eight to ten„hours a day in the hot sun, without tasting a drop of water or a morsel of bread, from early morning till sunset. To lighten the burden of this task, they usually make up during the night what they lose in day-time. They indulge in all manner of feasting until after midnight, and often do not retire till toward morning. Some sleep till the afternoon. Many of the shops were not opened 484 NIGHT FESTIVITIES. before the middle of the forenoon, and the streets con- tinned well-nigh deserted until noon. During this season, night entertainments are furnished to the men at the cafds (coffee-houses). We spent an evening in one of these to see this phase of Mohammedan social life. A crowd of people were assembled in a rude court, with a. temporary roof, and the omnipresent fountain in the centre. Out of the court a stairway led into an ad¬ joining mosque. The entertainment consisted of music and smoking; liquor, the bane of, social gatherings in more civilized countries, was not even thought of. The band sat on an elevated platform, whose instruments con¬ sisted of a discordant violin, a tamborine, and something between a harp and the inside of a piano. The music was better than we heard in Cairo, but still bad enough ; and the screeching voices of the singers were hard to en¬ dure. The party seemed greatly delighted, and withal remarkably quiet. The few that conversed any, did it in a suppressed tone of voice. Nearly all were smoking, raising a cloud which helped to obscure the few dim lights that were used. Soon after we entered, pipes were handed to us, with w'hich we helped to increase the dark¬ ness. Being kindly invited into an adjoining barber-shop, the proprietor gave us other pipes. He was a talkative fellow, and had many questions to ask, among others, what hour of the day it then was in our country, and whether we had not discovered a hill of gold. In the East, where all the boys and men have their heads shaved, barbers often have their hands full of w-ork. We re¬ mained at the cafd till ten at night, and then groped our way homeward through dark, winding streets. For the last six months (summer of 1860), no Christian could have mingled with such an assembly, and gone through AN ORIENTAL BATH. 485 the dark streets of Damascus near midnight, without periling his life. I nowhere met with anything that resembled a grog¬ shop in the East. Coffee-houses abound, of which there are said to be one thousand in Cairo. Some of them fur¬ nish their customers with hasheesh, an intoxicating drug which produces an exhilarating sensation. But few deal in anything stronger than coffee. These places are gene¬ rally held in small apartments, whose front on the street is of open wood-work in the form of arches. A raised seat of stone or brick is placed along the front, covered with matting, and also along the walls within the room. Nothing hut coffee is served ; the pipes are usually brought along. Only the middle and lower classes visit them, and these mostly in the afternoon and evening. Musicians and story-tellers frequent some to entertain the visitors. The coffee-houses in Jerusalem were crowded during the last Easter season. The Mahommedans regard bathing as a religious duty. To the thoroughness of their baths I can bear testimony from experience. Calling at a prominent bathing estab¬ lishment one morning, I was led into a large hall. A lofty dome, painted with trees, cottages, and gushing springs, rose over the fountain and reservoir in the cen¬ tre. Led upon an elevated platform, my clothing had to give place to a set of towels, and the head was enveloped in a heavy thick cloth. Thrusting my feet into clogs six inches high — simply a wooden sole on two board props — I stalked away over the slippery marble floor like a prb soner, with a man at each arm. The pavement was so smooth that I felt like a man first learning to skate. Every successive room grew hotter, until the vapory heat brought profuse perspiration from every pore. Finally I 41 * 486 PLEASANT SENSATIONS. was set on the smooth floor beside a pool of water, which was poured on the head in large buckets-full, and felt hot enough to scald the skin off. Then a lank muscular grey-bearded Syrian laid me down and set to scraping me with something like a fine fuller’s card, turning and rolling me over without much ceremony. After pouring a tub-full of soap-suds over me, his brawny hands per¬ formed the squashing operation of a rubbing process, not even excepting the face. This ordeal ended, I was arrayed in dry strips of linen, escorted hack to where I started from, and passed into new hands, muffled in a new set of towels, and laid on a mattress. Here a fellow took me through a kneading process, an operation which would certainly relieve 'the most hide-hound being. This done, he cracked the joints ; nothing short of a crack would do, which sometimes required no little twisting. Toes, knee-joints, hips, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers — he did not venture to twist the neck — all had to submit to a torture. And, to cap the climax, he must rasp the soles of the feet with the rough surface of an iron scraper. I bit my lips with stoical submission, and resolved to en¬ dure, while the rogue looked up with a grinning smile, but still rasped on. Rolled into a dry sheet, I was then laid on a divan, {ind while resting from their well-meant tortures, as a special favor, they brought me a glass of sherbet, a kind of ice-lemonade, but the pipe had positively to be with¬ held during Ramadan. Then only I began to feel the .charming effects of the operation. A sense of fresh buoyant life seemed to enter at every pore. It is quite natural that, after such a scalding, fulling, lathering, kneading, joint-cracking, bone-stretching operation, one should feel as if he had never been clean before. HABITUAL PRAYING. 487 Reclining on the divan, and inhaling the first soothing draughts of this purified state, I noticed a Moslem on an opposite platform, with his fuming towels around him, saying his prayers, and performing his various bows and prostrations. It is astonishing with what a business-like air these Mohammedans attend to their religious devo¬ tions. Their connecting religion with anything and every¬ thing, praying at the bath and at their business, might lead one to consider them pious in their own way. But they pray just as they eat, or put on their clothes, or at¬ tend to trade. Habit and hypocrisy have more to do with their prayers than conscience and an active sincere faith. Porter says, in his Five Years in Damascus : “ Moslems spend their time between indolence and in¬ dulgence, wandering with solemn step from the harem to the bath, and from the bath to the mosque. They are emphatically a praying people, and so are they a w^ashing people ; and there is just as much religion in their ablu¬ tions as there is in their devotions. Prayer with them is a simple performance. They pray as they eat, or as they sleep, or as they perform their toilet. These are all matters of course, parts of the daily routine, performed wdth the same care and with the same solemnity.” The Associate Reformed Church of the United States has an interesting mission here. The Rev. Mr. Robson, Rev, Mr. Frazer, and Miss Dales, have been laboring here wdth considerable success. Miss Dales had an in- terestino: mission -school. Two of her scholars, little girls aged eleven and tw'elve years, daughters of wealthy Jews, were already engaged to be married. The society and kindness of these dear friends in this benighted city I shall never forget. No one knows how to enjoy news¬ papers, until he has been deprived of them for months. 488 CHRISTIANS IN DAMASCUS. in an out-of-the way part of the world. How intently we pored over the Pittsburg Missionary^ the Presbyte¬ rian, and the Philadelphia Inquirer, which our friends had given us, devouring column after column with dash¬ ing relish ! Once you lose the thread of current events in your country, one-half of what you read becomes a riddle ; but in spite of this, your eyes flit over paragraph and page with infinite zest. They have a neat little mission church, where we had the pleasure of worshipping with them on the Lord’s day. The church has a raised floor at each end, with a fountain and basin in the mid¬ dle, where it is lowered. The seats are low divans, where you feel almost the same as sitting on the floor. The most influential member of this church, and indeed one of the leading men of Syria, is Dr. Meshakah. At pre¬ sent he is the American Vice-Consul of Damascus. He called on us, and kindly offered us any service we needed. He is a tall stout man, about sixty years of age, with a smiling countenance, florid complexion, and a grey beard, — a most patriarchal figure. He is said to be a highly intelligent man. The corruptions and inconsist¬ encies of the Armenian Church drove him to the verge of unbelief, from which he was rescued by the missionaries. The rising of the Druses and Mohammedans in Syria within the last six months has made terrible havoc with this mission. Miss Dales had before started a promising mission-school in Alexandria. But the rest were still there. The missionaries all escaped from Damascus, ex¬ cept Mr. Graham, from Ireland, who was killed. In his zeal to protect and save others, Dr. Meshakah was seriously wounded, and some of his children were cut to pieces in. his presence. Two hundred yards from ‘‘the street called Straight,” ANTIQUITY OP DAMASCUS. 489 is a cave, fitted up as a chapel, called the house of Ana¬ nias. Here tradition has located the interview between Ananias and the angel. Acts 9 : 17. Outside of the city a place is shown along the wall where the disciples are said to have let Saul down in a basket. Acts 9 : 25. Doubtful as these localities are, one thing is certain, that somewhere on this large plain, be it two miles or five from the city, the startling conversion of Saul occurred. It was “ near Damascus,^’ when suddenly a light shone from heaven, and he fell to the ground, and the voice came, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” Acts 9. In this city he tarried in blindness for a while, and when his sight was restored “ he straightway preached Christ in the synagogues, that he is the Son of God.” Damascus, about 200 miles from Jerusalem, is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, existing cities in the known world. It has outlived all the revolutions, changes, and stirring events of 4000 years. Nineveh, Babylon, and Memphis exist only in buried ruins, but here is a populous, swarming city, which Abraham saw, and whose streets he doubtless trod. Coming from Chaldea with Terah his father, and from Mesopotamia to Canaan, he most pro¬ bably came over this plain. Gen. 11 : 31. He pursued the kings who carried off Lot “ unto Hobah, which is on the left hand of Damascus.” Gen. 14 : 15. And Eliezer, his steward, was “ of Damascus.” Gen. 15 : 2. “David put garrisons in Syria of Damascus,” when he warred with a king on the Euphrates. 2 Sam. 8 : 6. Solomon again lost the city (1 Kings 11 : 24), and Jeroboam took it again. 2 Kings 14 ; 28. Abana and Pharpar, the “rivers of Damascus,” are still found here ; dashing, noisy streams, clear as crystal. The former emerges out of the crooked, craggy ravines 490 RIVERS OF DAMASCUS. of the Anti-Libanus, not far from Damascus ; the latter springs at the foot of Mount Hermon, and both empty into lakes beyond the city. The Abana is larger than the Pharpar, hence its name occurs first of the two. Pharpar passes the city at a distance of several miles, but Abana is carried into every quarter of it by canals. These canals fetch its waters high up the mountain, and play it from every fountain in garden, mosque, and dwelling. In ancient times, as now, their waters exten¬ sively served for bathing and domestic use, as well as to water the land. When Naaman, the Syrian leper, was told by Elisha to wash in the Jordan, he exclaimed : “Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?” 2 Kings 5 : 12. So far as the natural appearance of these different rivers is con¬ cerned, the clear crystal streams of Abana and Pharpar would strike the mind of a heathen more favorably than the milky waters of the Jordan, especially away down at Grilgal. Damascus then already was the head of Syria — a city that, in point of luxury and wealth, compared favor¬ ably with Samaria. Isaiah 7 : 8 ; 8 : 4 ; 10 : 9. It still excels in the manufacturing of certain articles. The Da¬ mascus silk, cotton goods, and steel blades have become famous all over the world. Its chief trade now, however, is carried on with the Bedouin tribes that people the vast plains of Arabia. In its bazaars the greater part of Syria and the whole of Mesopotamia do their shopping. When Ezekiel wrote it supplied Tyre, the Queen of Sea¬ ports, with her costly goods. “ Damascus was thy mer¬ chant in the multitude of the wares of thy making, for the multitude of all riches.” Ezekiel 27 : 18. Damascus is chiefly situated on the southern bank of POPULATION OF DAMASCUS. 491 the Abana, Mitb part of its suburbs on tbe northern. Before tbe river leaves the mountain, a number of canals carry off its water to different parts of tbe plain. Two of these canals supply the city and its surrounding gar¬ dens. This oasis, in which Damascus is embosomed, is about twenty-five miles in circumference. Beyond this is a fruitless waste ; only where the river-water reaches is there life and verdure. On account of its limited agricultural products it has always been measurably de¬ pendent on mercantile and manufacturing resources. The plain in which it is located contains an area of about two hundred and thirty-six square miles. Eastward from the city are three lakes, into which “ the rivers of Da¬ mascus” empty. The city itself does not cover so much ground ; perhaps an area of two by three miles in size. Formerly it had three walls around it, now only one, and this partly in ruins. The narrow streets enable them to push the houses close together. I saw two men, with laden donkeys, meet in one of these streets, where the one had to turn back to let the other pass. The popu¬ lation of the city is variously estimated at from 150,000 to 200,000. Of these about 25,000 are Christians (Greeks, Armenians, Latins, and Maronites), and four or five thou¬ sand Jews. The rest are Mohammedans. In nearly all Mohammedan countries, crazy people are regarded with superstitious reverence. What Lane says, in his “Manners and Customs of the Egyptians,” applies to many other nations : “An idiot or a fool is vulgarly regarded by them as a being whose mind is in heaven, while his grosser part mingles among ordinary mortals ; consequently he is considered an especial favorite of heaven. Whatever enormities a reputed saint may com¬ mit (and there are many who are constantly infringing i92 LUNATICS AND DEMONIACS. precepts of their religion), such acts do not affect his fame for sanctity ; for they are considered as the results of the abstraction of his mind from earthly things ; his soul, or reasoning faculties, being wholly absorbed in devotion, so that his passions are left without control. Lunatics who are dangerous to society are kept in con¬ finement ; but those who are harmless are generally re¬ garded as saints. Most of the reputed saints of Egypt are either lunatics or idiots, or impostors.” In one of the most crowded streets of Damascus I re¬ peatedly met one of the modern demoniacs, with no clothes on but a few rags around his loins. His violent gesticulations and repulsive features were enough to in¬ spire any one with terror, and yet neither men nor wmmen seemed to fear or avoid him. It would seem that this unfortunate class of beings were treated with similar respect by the ancients, and were even admitted into their religious assemblies. Our Saviour found the ‘‘man with an unclean spirit” at Capernaum in the synagogue. Mark 1 : 23. There are many traits of character and custom in which the Arabs and Turks are our antipodes. They shave the head but not the chin, and we the reverse. With us the uncovering of the head in the presence of another is a mark of respect, with them a mark of disrespect. When they go into a place of worship, they keep on the hat and take olF the shoes or slippers ; we do the opposite. They mount on the right side of a horse, and we on the left. They write from right to left, we from left to right. We show our good-breeding by taking the outside when we pass persons on the street, they by passing nearest to the wall. They do the honors of the table by serving themselves first, we by serving ARABIAN WEDLOCK. 493 ourselves last. If a friend inquires after jour wife, you regard it-as a compliment ; to inquire after theirs is an insult. Their mourning-dress is white, ours black. They finish their wooden houses from the top downwards, aud we from the foundation up. The men wear frocks, and the wmmen pantaloons. We wash the hands by dipping them in water, they by having water poured upon them. The Bedouin tribes of Arabia retain many of the patri¬ archal customs. Frequently cousins are'married together, as in the case of some of the patriarchs. Abraham, send¬ ing his servant to his own -country to seek a wife for Isaac, is what every Arab father does under similar cir¬ cumstances. Gen. 24. Save in exceptional cases, the “first-born” daughter is always given in marriage before her younger sisters, as Laban tried to do. Gen. 29 : 26. They do not always stop, however, with a Leah and Rachel. An old patriarch of our caravan through Ara¬ bia Petrsea had an extensive experience' in this respect. Stroking his long grey beard one day, he remarked : “ Four-and-twenty wives has Allah (exalted be his name !) given me. The widow of the Sheikh of Petra sent a mes¬ sage, to the intent that she wushed to become my wife. My first wife she became ; and the best of the four-and- twenty has she been to me.” Bedouin etiquette regards it uncourteous for a man to decline a proposal for mar¬ riage coming from a woman. It must not be supposed, however, that this man was wedded to these two dozen wives all at the same time. The bonds of Arab wedlock are not very firmly riveted, so that they unite and sepa¬ rate without much ceremony. On the morning of the 5th of May we kissed the hand to our host Antonio of Damascus, and received his part¬ ing salaam. The tramp of our horses, the coarse jeers 42 494 DEPARTURE FROM DAMASCUS. of our muleteers, and the tiny hells of their mules, pro¬ duced strange echoes in the narrow-roofed streets, still empty. We threaded our way out through the gate, then along the canals, through a considerable village, and up the mountain side. The sun shining on the bare white lime rocks, was painfully glaring. Large flocks of donkeys with bales of wood met us, already coming down the mountain. On a blufi’ of the mountain, like that on which the tower of Lebanon, which ‘‘looketh toward Da¬ mascus,” stood (Solomon’s Song 7 : 4), we got our last and best view of Damascus. Its houses, temples, and turrets, shone with almost snowy whiteness. Like most things in this sinful world, it appears best from a distance. Through the pure sunny morning air its rude mud-walls and homely dwellings shone with spotless lustre. The white city embowered among green gardens of trees and flowers and fields of grain, with tree-tops and white minarets v^dng for the ascendency, presented a scene not easily forgotten. On one of these mountain heights, now hallowed by “ the caverns and tombs of a thousand Mussulman saints,” Mohammed is said to have stood when yet a camel-driver from Mecca, and after gazing on the enchanting scene he turned away without entering Damascus, with this remark : Man can have but one paradise, and my paradise is fixed above.” Julian called it the “ Eye of the East.” It remains the queen of oriental cities, the Paradise of Syria ; a city of flowers, sparkling with crystal fountains and flowing rivers. The streams of Lebanon, and the “rivers of Damascus,” purl and sparkle in this wilderness of “ Syrian gardens.” In a crooked narrow valley we reached a rapid moun¬ tain river, along whose banks, strewn with groves, fruitful fields and villages, we continued for several hours. A B AALBEC. 495 violent thunder-shower overtook us at mid-day, from which we fled into a cave in the rocks. Quite a number of these remain along here, hewn out of the sides of the mountains. Across another hill 'we reached a rich plain, between the Lebanon and the Anti-Lebanon, on which spread out a variegated scene of villages, streams, and green fields, bordered with bald mountains. A broad well-used road stretched along through vineyards, fig and mulberry gardens, and even with a sprinkling of apple and pear trees. The streams were shaded by willows and tall silvery poplar. We encamped about twenty minutes from Zebedenai, a village of small farmers. The next morning w^e rode through the town, consisting of a group of houses scattered among trees and gardens. We spent the day by successively ascending and descending, here meeting a few ploughing in a glen and there others leading their flocks and herds to pasture, hoping on every succeeding hill-top to see Baalbec. Finally we reached the edge of the mountain which overlooks the valley of Coele-Syria, formed by the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon. A violent thunder-storm arose ; peal after peal fell from the black frowning clouds. It was a dismal ride, that longing approach to the city of the sun. At length we suddenly came .upon erect broken columns, then to the village of Baalbec and its ancient temple of the sun. Baalbec is supposed to be the Baalath of the Scrip¬ tures (1 Kings 9 : 18), the Baalhamon where Solomon had a large vineyard. Solomon’s Song 8 : 11. Some also locate his house of the forest of Lebanon here. 1 Kings 7 : 2. These hills and the eastern slope of Lebanon, first greeted by the morning sun, are admirably adapted for the cultivation of the grape, producing wine of sweetest flavor. In later times, about the Christian era, it re- 496 TEMPLE OF BAAL. ceived the name of Heliopolis, that is, city of the sun.” Like the one in Egypt, it became the centre of sun-wor¬ ship, as the sun or Baal was one of the chief gods of ancient Syria. Anciently a populous and extensive city, it now contains only some fifteen hundred or two thousand inhabitants. About one-fourth of these are Oriental Christians. The present town is built on the ruins of the ancient one, fragments of whose glory strew its streets and fields. The most interesting remains of ancient Baalbec are two massive temples. The largest one stands on an artifi¬ cial platform, twenty or thirty feet above the contiguous plain, and is a thousand feet long from east to west. On the south of this is the temple of Baal, the sun-god, which is about one-fourth as long. This was surrounded by forty Corinthian columns, eighteen of which are yet standing erect in their places. These columns were usually formed of three pieces, and are so tightly joined that some have not been broken asunder by their fall. They are seven feet in diameter and from sixty to seventy feet in height. The temples were entered through lofty porticoes. Within are chambers, which perhaps were occupied by priests and others engaged in the temple service. The main entrance into one of the temples is through a large arched gateway, the keystone of which has slipped down half out of its place. A large eagle is carved on the lower side of the stone wdth keys in his talons. The floors are covered with broken columns, stone blocks and rubbish. Under these temples are subterra¬ nean tunnels, with arched ceilings, through which the religious processions of some of these ancient idolaters may have passed. Out of this confused mass of ruins rise six Corinthian columns seventy feet high, with their IMAGNIFICENT RUINS. 497 tops joined at the cornice, which they lift high above their prostrate fellows. They are unsupported at the top, and their bases have been chiselled and narrowed away, and still they stand in spite of war and time. The foliage carved on the chapiters and ceiling around some of the columns is still perfect, and shows what progress the ancients had made in the art of sculpture. No de¬ scription can give an adequate conception of the grandeur and magnificence of these temples, even as they now ap¬ pear, in vast heaps of confused fragments. When com¬ plete, with thousands of worshippers streaming between their lofty columns and through their high arches, the sight must have been surpassingly grand. The parts of the wall which still remain, look firm enough to stand till the end of time. There are blocks of limestone in the wall from fifty to sixty-five feet long, and of a corresponding depth and thickness. These are twenty-five feet from the floor, and, measuring the arti¬ ficial base on which the temple stands, fifty feet above the ground around its base. In one of the ancient quar¬ ries, about a mile from Baalbec, we found a block which, according to Robinson, is sixty-eight feet four inches long, seventeen feet two inches wide, and fourteen feet seven inches high. Five sides are perfectly dressed, while the base is not yet cut loose from the rock. From this it would seem that they dressed their building-stones before they quarried them, not cutting the base off from the solid rock until all the other parts had been finished. We speak of the progress of physical science ; but whether modern architects could convey a solid block of limestone as high as a three-story house, if raised on its end, one mile from the quarry to the building, and raise it into the wall fifty feet above ground, is a question. The wonder 42* 2q 498 SITUATION OF ANCIENT TEMPLES. is, not that we have progressed so far in advance of the ancients, but so little. Thanks to Revelation and Chris¬ tianity, the world has morally gained much since then, but in many branches of science we are hardly where they left off. Temples are always built in the neighborhood of a spring or stream of water. A clear large fountain gushes out of the earth near these ruins; and on its bank is an¬ other smaller circular temple, fast falling to pieces. Perched on the western wall of the temple of Baal, I watched the sun sinking behind Lebanon, and his red light as it lingered on the tall columns which rose around me. Lacking spiritual guidance and illumination, the an¬ cient Coel e-Syrians felt around in the dark for the Divine Being. Feeling the need of moral light, how natural that they should select the symbol of Divine Light and truth for their object of worship. Here in this plain he shone with special lustre. Long before he rose they could see his coming light on the tops of Lebanon, as we did. Long after he set, his lingering light gilded the summit of the Anti-Lebanon. Here beside this stream they built him a temple, to seek light for their souls. All this was a prophecy of the rising of ‘‘the light of the world,’* which came “ to lighten the Gentiles.” Luke 2 : 32. Still I meditated amid the ruins, on the builders and early occupants of these gigantic structures, until the shrill hoot of an owl on a contiguous wall, bid me repair to the tents before it became wholly dark. Baalbec has also suffered by the late Syrian wars (1860). The blood-thirsty fiendish frenzy has swept over this region like the sword of the Destroying Angel. During one week, nearly 1100 men, women, and children, were daily killed in Damascus. In this Lebanon district, A FIELD OF CARNAGE. 499 12,000 persons have been murdered, besides those who have fallen in open fight. More than 220 churches have been destroyed, 200 priests butchered, 163 villages de¬ molished, and more than seventy millions of dollars’ worth of property has been annihilated. An Eastern custom leaves the murdered dead unburied, until their murderers have been brought to justice. For months after, 10,000 human bodies were lying around Mount Hermon, in full view from the Sea of Galilee and the Mediterranean, and in the plain of Sidon, the Phoenicia of the ancients. The Syrian climate requires the dead to be buried within twenty-four hours after their decease ; and yet, strange to say, those which the hyenas and wolves had not eaten, blackened and crisped like Egyptian mummies, without undergoing decomposition. In palaces and barracks, in deserted villages and tenantless houses, by the way and in the field, wherever they fell there they were still lying, their ghastly features crying to heaven for vengeance upon their cruel murderers. About twenty-five miles north-east of Baalbec, 6400 feet above the sea, are the celebrated cedars, the pro¬ geny of the ancient “cedars of Lebanon.” We received word that the deep snow in that region would render an attempted visit there impossible. Different travellers give their number from 350 to 400. The old trees are very large, which some writers suppose to be as old as the reign of Solomon. Robinson says : “ They form a thick forest, without underbrush. The older trees have each several trunks, and thus spread themselves widely around.” The wood is hard and lasting, and better than any other for building purposes. Hiram, king of Tyre, sent his servants up here to hew down cedar trees for Solomon, and take them down to the sea, and convey 500 THE CEDARS OF LEBANON. them in floats to Joppa, for the building of the temple. 1 Kings 5. The onlj parable in the Old Testament speaks of “ the cedars of Lebanon.” Judges 9 : 15. The Psalmist gratefully enumerates the cedars of Lebanon among the wonderful works of God. Psalm 104 : 16. Their lofty waving tops are a figure of the proud whom the Lord will bring low. Isaiah 2 : 13. When God spared Israel and destroyed their foes, his people were like these cedars which the axe never molested. Isaiah 14 : 8. Their tall tough trunks were used to make the masts of the Tyrian ships. Ezekiel 27 : 5. Solomon’s chariot was made 'of their wood. The cedar was the most noble representative of the vegetable kingdom. It was the highest and the hyssop the lowest of plants. 1 Kings 4 : 33. The refreshing vitalizing influence of the Church is like the numerous “streams from Lebanon,” which fill its plains and dells with cheerful life. Solomon’s Song 4 : 15. It is like “the glory of Lebanon.” Isaiah 35 : 2. Rich as it was in flocks, fir trees, and cedars, its slain beasts and wood were insufficient to bring the Lord a worthy burnt-ofiering. Isaiah 40 : 16. Its fruitful slopes abounded with flourishing vineyards, whose grapes pro¬ duced wines of richest flavor. Hosea 14 : 7. But the glory and pride of Lebanon were her forests of rare cedars, which were transported hundreds of miles. Doubtless many thousand acres were covered with them. Now there are but few places where any remain, and these are fast disappearing. Vandal travellers mutilate them in their zealous relic worship, and the native moun¬ tain tribes cut them down for fuel. Unless something is done to protect them, their days are numbered. Thus it may not be long till “ Lebanon shall fall by a mighty one;” when it shall be “ashamed and hewn down.” Isaiah 10 • 34; 33 : 9. C(ELE-SYRIA. 501 CHAPTER XXII. Ciele-Ssria — Crnssing tjie f thnon — foiixml — €itm 0f i\)t Sra-t0Hst. Coele-Syria is a valley of about eight or nine miles in width. It is formed by the lofty ranges of the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, and looks like an expanded mountain cleft. The plain is from three to four thousand feet above the sea, and the mountains rise almost as many feet above its own level. It is therefore appropriately called “ Hol- low^-Syria,” as its name signifies — an Eden-like dale hollowed out of the top of Lebanon. Nearly a whole day we rode over its beautiful meadow-like fields after leaving Baalbec. Although a severe winter had thinned the crops, doubtless a common visitation in this high lati¬ tude, the w'heat, lentils, and other products, looked pro¬ mising. In Samaria the wheat was whitening for the harvest two weeks before, and here it was just shooting into heads. Luxuriant vineyards, with sturdy vines almost like those in the vale of Eshcol, abounded along the sloping base of the Lebanon. Numerous streams, some swollen by the melting of the mountain snows, rushed down its ravines, which w’ere skillfully husbanded and spread to water the plain. The Orontes, the principal river of the valley, is likewise used to irrigate the lands. A few small lakes dot the plain and add to its picturesque scenery. 502 CCELE-SYRIAN VILLAGES. All the villages showed marks of industry and thrift — thrift in an Eastern sense. They seemed to farm their lands in common. At some places a hundred ploughmen were employed on twenty or thirty acres of land. The women too seemed all busily engaged in doing something, though not always the most suitable work. Not a few were employed in molding manure into large flat cakes, which they spread on the house-tops to dry for fuel. Even where the t^^ood is not scarce they seem to prefer this dry dung to cook with, perhaps on account of their dislike to chopping wood, or because it kindles and burns more easily. The valley w^as one continuous garden, teeming with a profusion of wild flowers. In many places the “lilies of the field,” though somewhat sickly and shrivelled, morning-glories, and dandelions, greeted us. The animated and busy scenes w^hich everywhere met us formed a most cheering contrast to the white dreary mountain tops, still buried beneath wintry snow. We dismounted in a grove of silvery poplars on the edge of a village, to lunch and rest for a short season. The houses had a neat and tasty appearance, the fronts of some being whitewashed. Cheerful, chubby boys saluted us with “ bonjourno” and “ bona sera,” (good day and good evening) which reminded us that we were among a people that had some intercourse or relationship with Italy. Quite a brisk stream turned a small grist-mill at the end of the village. Great numbers of thriving mul¬ berry trees grew around the town. It was a remarkable village for Syria — so tidy, fresh, and busy. After ascending the Lebanon about an hour, we reached a khan, before which we concluded to encamp. The lovely valley, with its variegated colors, woodland, wheatland, meadows and ploughed fields, verdure and villages, and LIFE IN TABERNACLES. 503 streams threading their crooked courses in all directions, all spread out to view like a panorama. The hospitable proprietor soon welcomed us with coiFee and the pipe. ‘‘ Tired nature” demanded rest, and so the pipe was only honored with a few whiffs. After a while the chattering of a few swallows awoke me — sounds so familiar that my w^aking thoughts were of home ; swallows just like ours too, their hills and throats making an infinite ado. “Like a crane or a swallow, so did I chatter,” said the grateful Hezekiah. Isaiah 38 14. Here, as in our country, the swallow observes the time of its coming and going, with¬ out being told. Jeremiah 8 : 7. This last night on Lebanon was also the last of our tent-life. Beautiful and hallowing are the lessons one learns by living in tabernacles. This wandering life, having literally no “ abiding city,” your only home being the spot where you lay your weary limbs for a few fleet¬ ing hours “between evening and morning,” impresses you most seriously with the transitoriness and evanescence of earthly joys. At every sunrise the earthly house of your tabernacle is dissolved, at every sunset you fasten the stakes and stretch the cords for a brief repose ; but always nearing the end of your journey. As Mont¬ gomery has it : “ While in the body pent Absent from thee I roam, And nightly pitch my roving tent A day’s march nearer home.” That evening, the last before we reached Beirout, the same hymns we sang at the Red Sea, and in our most trying days in the desert, employed our tongues. “Guide me, 0 thou great Jehovah.” “Come thou fount of every blessing.” “ Upward I lift mine eyes,” 504 A RETROSPECT. sounded sweeter, even that night in our tent, than when we used to sing them in Arabia, longing for the Promised Land. More than two months before we had started from Egypt ; for a while I feared that I would have to bury my only companion in the wilderness ; at other times in imminent peril, yet the Lord had delivered us from them all. In Arabia our tent-life had its perils as well as its pleasures ; in Palestine it was less danger¬ ous, and abounded more in vaidety and incident. From Damascus, the most eastern point of our journey, my heart heat lightly, for there we tacked about westward. And now the last night in this roving tent ! To-morrow, God willing, we shall lodge in a comfortable hotel by the sea-side in Beirout, and in a few days the steamer will come that is to take us to the sunny shores of France. Such a prospect, just then and there, was sufficient to send a thrill of enthusiasm through 4he heart of the humblest pilgrim. At half-past six the next morning, our saddled horses already impatiently champed their bits to hasten our start. Steep as was the path in places, it was an easy ascent. All was jubilant with life. Every glen and ravine seemed to send a dashing rill down toward the valley. Numerous sky-larks started along our winding mountain path,^ pouring forth their morning song, and flapping upward, singing still when no longer seen, until the sweet sounds died faintly away in the distant heavens. At 8 A. M., we reached a summit, from which we got the first glimpse of Beirout, far down by the sea-side, em¬ bowered among trees, some twenty-five miles off. The Me¬ diterranean looked so blue, that its color imperceptibly blended with the horizon, so as to make it impossible to tell where the sea ended and the sky began. The white A DESCRIPTION BY THE PSALMIST. 50^ sails on the distant blue seemed to float skj-ward. Then thick vapor-clouds rolled up the mountain from the sea and hid all, and soon wrapped their dark dripping folds around us like a wet sheet. These condense and run in rapid streams down into the valley. After emerging out of them, green fields and villages without number came in sight. No penman or poet could half so well describe all the beautiful details seen on and from this mountain, as the Psalmist. “The waters stood above the mountains. At thy rebuke they fled ; At the voice of thy thunder they hasted away. They go up by the mountains ; They go down by the valleys Unto the place which thou hast founded for them. Thou hast set a bound that they may not pass over, That they turn not again to cover the earth. He sendeth the springs into the valleys, Which run among the hills. They give drink to every beast of the field: The wild asses quench their thirst. By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their babitation. Which sing among the branches. The trees of the Lord are full of sap ; The cedars of Lebanon which he hath planted: Where the birds make their nests: As for the stork, the fir-trees are her house. The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats, And the rocks for the conies. So is this great and wide sea. Wherein are things creeping innumerable, Both small and great beasts. There go the ships ; There is that leviathan. Whom thou hast made to play therein.” 48 Psalm 104. 506 EOADS ACROSS THE LEBANON. The path on the west side of Lebanon is almost im- I passable. Although the great thoroughfare between I Beirout and Damascus, it looks as if wear and the weather i ! had had all their own way for centuries. Certainly none j but Arab horses could carry a man over such break-neck roads without the risk of limb and life. At some places ‘ the earth was all washed from the ledges of rocks, leaving steps two and three feet high, and these our poor animals had to span descending a steep mountain. Then the path led through ravines, whose beds were covered with round stones which rolled from under the horses’ tread ; like cannon balls. ' We sometimes walked, but this was \ not an easy task either. Caravans going to Damascus, i! rnet us in deep narrow gullies, not wide enough for their i pack-horses to pass, which threw them into confusion, I and brought upon us not the most amiable epithets. ! Over such roads our poor animals labored with their ■! burdens down the Lebanon for a half a day ; now de¬ scending into a ravine, then clambering out of it, always ; hoping to be nearing the foot of the mountain, and still meeting new hills and ravines to cross. At noon we ' spread our rug in a khan by the wayside, in which we souorht shelter from a shower. On a raised hearth in the wall a fire was burning, whose smoke tried to work itself through a small hole near it, and out of doors, as best it ■ could without a chimney ; the greater part however was ! retained for our benefit. The wood-work of the low ceil- . V : ing (the roof was made of brushwood and plastered), was ' j charred like a smoke-house. After sipping at a cup of the keeper’s cloudy coffee, we mounted our horses for the i last time. At length the top of the last hill at Lebanon’s j,| base is reached. For an hour we rode through continu- ' I ous orchards of mulberry, pomegranates, with beautiful ( i '\ i ' i .4 E E I R 0 U T. 50*i pink blossoms, and prickly pear like mammoth cactus plants, pendent with gay cup-shaped flowers. Olive groves, pine forests, orange and lemon gardens, figs, almonds and apricots, spread over the plain in profuse variety. There is an Arabian proverb : “ Lebanon wears winter on its head, spring upon its shoulders, autumn in its bosom, and summer sleeps at its feet.” Passing from the cold bleak summit to this garden-spot, teeming with tropical luxuriance, we found it to be literally true. Near the edge of the city we met two girls, dressed in light pink frocks and long white veils, coming out to the spring with their water-pots. Trees and all manner of flowers filled the air with sweetest fragrance, which the gentle sea-breeze wafted toward the mountain. We took up our quarters in the Hotel Bellevue, on the sea coast, about ten minutes below Beirout. Fatigue and exhaustion had banished hunger ; this last was one of the hardest days on our whole journey. A hotel may have less poetry than a tent, but it cer¬ tainly possesses greater comforts. Here we rested four days, inhaling the exhilarating sea-breeze, watching the breakers dashing on the rough beach, and laving the cells and caves which perforate the rocky coast. Swallows twittered around our tables and over our chamber win- .dows. And these green leafy orchards, which embrace Beirout with its white houses, in the arms of life, afforded a charming view from the verandah of our hotel. And the grand amphitheatre which the Lebanon forms around the city, with villages and green fields smiling down_^ from every bluff and hill-top, presents one of the most pictu¬ resque mountain scenes which the eye of man can be- liold. Orchards, vineyards, villages and their surround¬ ing cultivated plots, are strewn from the base to the top, 508 BEIROUT. rising and receding dimly in the cloudy distant height. This western side of Lebanon is as well cultivated as the mountains of Switzerland. Every accessible spot, how¬ ever small, that can be cleared of its stones, must bear its few stalks of wheat or grass. Down in the large valleys of Galilee and Samaria, teeming with spontaneous fertility, the lazy Arabs are half starved with thousands of untilled acres around them. Here where rocks and a meagre soil prevail, in places which plough and beast can scarcely reach, you discover universal marks of industry and comfort, and see these hardy mountaineers, “ Their stormy mansions tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread.^^ Beirout is most probably the Berotbai from which David took much brass after he had conquered these northern cities. 2 Sam. 8 : 8. The Berothah mentioned in Ezekiel 47 : 16, may refer to the same city. Its loca¬ tion would naturally make it a prominent sea-port of the Phoenicians. During the prosperous period of that an¬ cient people, this charming plain must have been even more densely settled and better improved than now. Where good harbors are so scarce as along this Phoeni¬ cian coast, they would not be likely to leave such a point unimproved. The city has no connection with Gospel history. Beirout has been made the centre of the Syrian Mis¬ sionary operations. Here and at Damascus, and at in¬ termediate villages, American missionaries have labored with' signal success. On the Sabbath we spent in Beirout, Dr. Thomson, author of The Land and the Book, preached an interesting sermon on Exodus 17 : 15-16, in which he reviewed the twenty-five years of his labor in this city. i THE MARONITES. 509 A. (Quarter of a century ago, he said, on a blustery February morning, the ship that bore me to Beirout landed on yonder shore. Then Beirout had but six or eight thousand inhabitants; now it has 50,000. Then there were no Protestant Christians here, and I had to begin my labors in a small room in the same building in which we now worship. Then there was not a Protestant congregation in the Turkish Empire, and for a Moham¬ medan to become a Protestant was an offence punishable by death. Now there are many flourishing Protestant congregations in Syria and Palestine, and their members are respected. Then there were few schools, and none for females. Now we have flourishing schools, and female education is encouraged. My old associates and co-la¬ borers have all entered into their rest. Another genera¬ tion of workmen has taken the place of the departed, and I am left the solitary survivor of an army which has passed from a scene of militant trial into one of endless triumph.” Beirout became the protector and feeder of the be¬ reaved and famishing surviving Christians who escaped in the late war. The Maronites, who were the greatest sufferers, are supposed to have descended from the an¬ cient Syrians. They speak the Arabic, but their Litur¬ gical worship is in the old Syrian language. They claim to be a separate nation, and boast of their political inde¬ pendence, giving nothing to the Turkish government but their annual tribute. They are governed by Sheikhs, selected from their prominent families, who constitute their nobility. They have a separate ecclesiastical com¬ munity, which elects its own head, called the Patriarch of Antioch,” who usually resides in the Cenobian Con¬ vent on the Lebanon. In 1445, they placed themselves 43 * 510 THE DRUSES. under the jurisdiction of the Pope, who ratifies the elec¬ tion of their Patriarch. In 1584, Gregory XIII. founded a Maronite College in Pome, from which they have since received the most of their priests. They have, howevei, never fully coalesced with the Papal church. The Popes have allowed them, as well as their other Oriental branches, to retain a number of their traditional usages. Their priests are permitted to marry, and they receive the Lord’s Supper in both kinds, (bread and wine, the same as Protestants). They have no disciplined soldiery, and although nearly twice as numerous as the Druses, (about 200,000,) they were not equal to their enemies in battle. The Druses are Arabs, who came from the eastern con¬ fines of Syria, and settled in Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, within the last 900 years. They are neither Mohamme¬ dans nor Christians. One of their religious books calls Mohammed a Satan and a bastard,” and declares the Gospel to be true. * It is said that their founder held that the Divine Being became incarnate in a visible form. But they are so perfectly isolated, and keep their religious tenets and practices so profoundly secret, that very little is known of them. For this reason, Mohammedans say they have no religion. They number a population of about 100,000, who chiefly live on the Lebanon. Mountains inspire their inhabitants with a love of liberty, and the bravery to achieve it, as the history of Switzerland and Scotland shows. The pure mountain air of Lebanon has nursed and nurtured them into natural warriors, whose prowess the Turks greatly dread. They are evermore struggling for political independence. Their well-drilled army of 20,000 or 25,000 men, is under the control of brave and skillful officers, chiefs chosen from AN ARAB HORSE. 511 tlieir old men whose experience has trained and inured them to the art and hardships of war. They are a sober, active, and hard-working people, fierce, and proverbially proud, resenting the slightest insult with the dagger. They disdain the dull monotonous life of the valleys. “An iron race the mountain cliffs maintain, Foes to the gentler genius of the plain.’' On a journey of this kind, one becomes attached to all that have served and followed him, both man and beast. Not without a pang of regret could I look for the last time upon the graceful dapple-grey which had carried me from Jerusalem to Beirout. Many a mountain we climbed together, and, with a single exception, his foot never failed him, nor his speed either, when he was left to have his own way. Along precipices where a single mis-step might have resulted in instant death, he cautiously tripped as if conscious that he held a human being on his back. No Bedouin Barahbas could put his plundering hand into my pocket, or his steel into my heart, if it was in the power of his metal or speed to prevent it.' Once I was greatly horrified at the farce of St. Antonio’s Church in Borne, where a tittering priest blessed horses and mules, and sprinkled them with holy water. Despite the memory of that sacred mockery, I cherish such a kindly feeling for that Arabian horse, that if a prayer of my heart could secure to him the happiest life which his kind has the capacity to enjoy, I would be tempted to offer it in his behalf. Mohammed came one morning to give us his parting salaam. He is a man of few words, slow to speak, and quick to hear. Whether from stoicism, or the grace of patience, he possesses a marvellous power of endurance, 512 OUR COOK. and always seems to act from a stern sense of duty. Often I pitied him, when, after a tedious day's journey, he had to perform his cooking duties, scour, and wash- dishes till near midnight. When the Bedouins were crouched around their fires smoking, and Ahmed lying in his tent, and we taking a siesta, or watching the stars, and talking of home, he killed the chickens or a lamb, nursed his dishes, or prepared them for the next day. He thoroughly un¬ derstood his profession. It was often a marvel to me where he got the wherewith to prepare all the excellent dishes with which he supplied us. As soon as we reached the destination of our day’s journey, he would quickly fan the charcoal in his little stove into a flame, and very soon came Firage with cofiee — none of your Turkish nondescript, as cloudy as the politics of the Sultan, but clear, settled, richly-flavored coffee, such as an American matron could scarcely excel. Then, alas, for the poor fowl or sheep that would come within reach of his knife. The table set, he would send in course after course, lamb, fowl, gazelle, ham (which as a Mohammedan he would only touch from a sense of professional duty, but not taste) ; together with puddings and pastries of the rarest kind. Commit yourself to a camel’s back for ten hours in the Arabian desert, and my word for it you will be in a condition to appreciate such a table. One of the best compliments this faithful servant received from me, was my physical expansion. When we reached Beirout, I weighed one hundred and ninety pounds, twenty-five more than I had ever reached before. Ahmed gave him thirty-five dollars a month to cook for us, and thirty dol¬ lars to pay his expenses home. When a child, his parents had one of his eyes destroyed to save him from military service. He has a wife and three children in Cairo. He is a OUR DRAGOMAN. 513 man of a very equable temper, having, to my knowledge, laughed only twice during the two months and a half since we left Cairo. As a mark of kindly remembrance, each of us gave him a Napoleon (nearly four dollars), besides a number of half-worn garments. His pock¬ marked face twitched with emotion as he laid his hand into mine, and called upon Allah to carry me safely over the great waters to my home. Firage, our Nubian waiter, black as a hat, was a jolly, genuine negro, from Ethiopia, the land of negroes, twelve or fourteen years of age. He was remarkably ‘‘ clever,” as some of our English friends said, who were so well pleased with him that they made efforts to buy or beg him from Ahmed and take him to England. He was always inventing something for our comfort. The first herald of the rising sun was the coal-black head of Firage, thrust through the opening of the tent-door, showing his ivory teeth, and bidding us “ Good morning ! ” which was about the extent of his acquirements in the English language. Ahmed keeps him, has a concern for his good training, and says he has a black girl which, in a few years, he will give him to wife, if he wants her. The man on whom we were the most dependent was our dragoman, Ahmed Saide. For an unlettered man, he is remarkably intelligent and eminently shrewd. He fulfilled the contract w^e had made with him, and did well by it. He is a faithful servant, whom I can recom¬ mend to any of my countrymen who may stand in need of his services. At length the French steamer Samois arrives, which is to carry us back to France. For the benefit of the curious, I would state that our fare from here to Mar¬ seilles was 582 francs — a little over $116. A French 2h 514 A FRENCH STEAMER. steamer on the Mediterranean and a tent on the plains of Arabia are two different things. Arrived on board, we found the deck peopled with three or four hundred Mecca pilgrims, while the so-called first-class passengers were stowed away, four in each small state-room of eight feet square. The pilgrims covered the deck with a scent and scene more picturesque than pleasant. During the day they could stand and shift about, and after night they sought to recline by wedging themselves in spoon- fashion. Meanwhile the ship pitched and rolled at a fearful rate, riddling the sleepers together, like wheat in a sieve : the solid grain sinking beneath, leaving the lighter chaff on the top. Many were the complaints and demurrings, until all found their proper level. In spite of their closely-packed condition, they managed to find room to say their prayers. At their meals, a group would settle in a narrow circle around a dish of rice ; and some munched their bread, sitting on a rug or lean¬ ing against a mast. Our steamer sailed at 8 P. M., so that we passed off Tyre and Sidon after night. Sidon is about thirty miles south of Beirout, on the sea-coast, and Tyre, some twenty- five miles south of Sidon. This strip of land along the sea was ancient Phoenicia — a great commercial nation, by whose wealth and influence these two cities were pro¬ duced. Before the days of David and Solomon they were already prosperous and mighty cities, whose decline com¬ menced “before antiquity began.” They were famous for their costly and rare manufactures. The Tyrian purple is praised by the most ancient writers. The heroines of Homer were arrayed in robes “ Which from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore, With Helen, touching on the Tyrian shore.^^ TYRE AND SIDON. 515 One says : “ I too from glorious Sidon came, Famous for wealth by dyeing earnhl/^ So too Homer sings of “Belts, That, rich with Tyrian dye, refulgent glowed/^ These were the parent cities of Carthage and Cadiz, the queens of ancient commerce — proverbial for their luxury and magnificence. Tyre, being always mentioned first in order, must have been the most powerful of the two, but perhaps the younger. For a colony from Sidon IS said to have founded Tyre two hundred and forty years before the building of Solomon’s temple. In the division of the land by Joshua, it was already called “the strong city of Tyre.” Joshua 19 : 29. Hiram, King of Tyre^ was a friend of David and Solomon, and sent his servants to “hew cedar-trees out of Lebanon,” and fioat them down here to Joppa (1 -Kings 5) ; he also sent his ser¬ vants with Solomon’s fleet from Ezion-Geber, at the Gulf of Akaba, to Ophir, to bring gold for the use of the King of Israel. 1 Kings 9 : 27. So great was her com¬ mercial influence that the isles of the sea shook at the sound of her fall. Ezekiel 26 : 15. About half-way between Tyre and Sidon, on this Phoe¬ nician coast, is the modern village of Surafend, conse¬ crated and conspicuous by the white domes rising over the graves of Mohammedan saints. This is the Zare- phath, where Elijah multiplied the widow’s meal and the “ little oil in the cruse.” 1 Kings 17 ; Luke 4 : 26. In later times, one greater than Elijah showed a miracu¬ lous kindness to another woman in this region. The only miracle which Christ performed on Gentile territory 516 DEPARTED GLORY. was in the curing of the Sjrophoenician woman’s daugh¬ ter on the ‘‘ borders of Tjre and Sidon.” Mark 7 : 24—30. Coming from Greece to Jerusalem, Paul tarried at Tyre seven days. A solemn interview, and a still more solemn parting, occurred. The brethren accompanied him, with their “ wives and children, till they were out of the city.” There they “kneeled down on the shore, and prayed.” Acts 21 : 4, 5. After that, the ship that took him to Italy, as a prisoner, touched at Sidon, where he received “liberty to go unto his friends to refresh himself.” Acts 27 : 3. The celebrated church-father Origen is said to lie buried at Tyre ; and beneath the ruins of its ancient cathedral repose the bones of the great German emperor, Frederick Barbarossa. These cities, like many others, have become the melan¬ choly monuments of the inevitable ruin which sin entails, as well as a testimony to the divine inspiration of pro¬ phecy. Tyre has shrunken and shrivelled into a peasant village, and Sidon retains a population of from eight to ten thousand. The glory and power of their ancient manufactures and commerce have departed ; the pride and pomp of their merchant -princes vanished, and the spectral shadow of their history lingers among the broken columns and crumbling walls that strew their coast. The harbors in which the sails of all civilized nations fluttered 3000 years ago, and where cargoes of gold were unloaded, are dreary and deserted. The sounds of music and of mirth, and the gaudy festive throngs have given place to owls hooting among their ruins, and eagles perched on lofty rocks. As Gibbon says : “ A mournful and solitary silence now prevails along the shore which once resounded with the 'world’s debate.” Tyre, the home “ of sea-faring men,” has not a ship whose keel ploughs the sea. Her C E S A R E A . 617 towers” are broken down, and her shattered walls of dried brick have mouldered back to earth. Her few in¬ habitants scrape together a meagre subsistence by fishing, and a little farming. Her rock-girt coast, for she stood on an island, near the shore, once covered with the proud palaces of her princes, is now a place for the spread¬ ing of nets in the midst of the sea,” on which the modern Syrians dry their fishing-nets. Ezekiel 26 : 5, and 14. Thus has come to pass what the prophet foresaw and foretold when Tyre and Sidon were still the pride of the sea, 2500 years ago. On the following morning we passed in sight of Mount Carmel, and some thirty-five or forty miles north of Joppa, we got a distant glimpse of the site of Cesarea, where good Cornelius fasted, prayed, and gave alms. Here Peter preached his first sermon to the Gentiles, and bade the first non-Jewish converts “to be baptized.” Acts 10. It was the Roman capital of Palestine, the residence of Roman procurators, where Vespasian was declared emperor. Here Eusebius, the ancient church historian, was born, and Origen wrote many of his com¬ mentaries at Cesarea. After his conversion, Paul came to Jerusalem and “ spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus,” which provoked a persecution, and “ the brethren brought him down to Oesarea^ and sent him forth to Tarsus.” Acts 9 : 29, 30. Here lived “Felix, the gov¬ ernor,” to whom he was afterwards brought from Jerusa¬ lem for trial; where he preached before him and his wife Drusilla, reasoning of “righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come,” with such pungency and fearless power that the dissolute and tyrannical governor trem¬ bled with a sense and terror of his sins. Acts 24 : 24, 25. After being imprisoned two years at Cesarea, Porcius 44 518 PAUL’S PREACHING. Festus came into Felix’s room. He gave Paul a hearing in the presence of Agrippa and Bernice, before whom he preached that model sermon, pointed, yet courteous, con¬ tained in the 26th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. Festus, being no longer able to restrain himself, cried out with a loud voice : “ Paul, thou art beside thyself ; much learning doth make thee mad.” The bold Apostle replied : ‘‘King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest.” This direct appeal to the prophets, after showing that they had foretold the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, was more than Agrippa could resist. His mind was convinced but his heart not con¬ quered, and he said unto Paul : “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.” From Cesarea Paul is taken in a ship as a prisoner to Borne. Here, too, lived Pontius Pilate, from where he came up to attend the annual festi¬ vals at Jerusalem ; and in the theatre which his father built in Cesarea, “ the angel of the Lord smote Herod” because he arrogated divine honor, where he was “ eaten of worms and gave up the ghost.” Acts 12 : 22, 23. Here, too, lived Philip, the evangelist, whose daughters “did prophesy,” and in whose house Paul abode. Acts 21. And the same Philip, after he had instructed and baptized the Ethiopian eunuch near Gaza, “ was found at Azotus, and passing through, he preached in all the cities (along the coast of the Mediterranean) till he came to Cesarea.''' Acts 8. On Pentecost the Holy Ghost was first poured out upon a Jewish assembly through the preaching of Peter at Jerusalem; and by the preaching of the same Peter He was first poured out upon the Gentiles at Cesarea, Here the middle wall of partition was first broken down, and Jewish prejudices were conquered by the power of JOPPA. 519 the Gospel, which is alike free and adequate to save the Jew and the Gentile, the bond and the free. No city in Palestine is more extensively associated with primitive Christianity than Cesarea, for here were gathered the first fruits of the Gospel among the Gentiles ; and yet no city connected with that interesting period is so en¬ tirely deserted and in ruins. No hamlet or hut marks the site of Pilate’s home, and not a solitary human being lingers among the broken relics of its departed glory. As in the Roman Forum, “ the ground is strewn with history;” richly carved broken columns are washed by the waves along the shallow beach, and the streets, once alive with a gallant soldiery and all the paraphernalia of regal pomp and power, are now covered with the undis- tinguishable ruins of prostrate temples, palaces, and theatres, fragments of which an occasional small ship carries off to Joppa or elsewhere to build modern dwell¬ ings. No city along the whole sea-coast presents such a scene of absolute desertion and desolation as the home of Pontius Pilate and Herod Agrippa — the one the judge who condemned Jesus Christ to be crucified, the other the first king who officially condemned a Christian (James) to martyrdom ; for Stephen was not judicially condemned, but slain by a Jewish mob. Acts 12 : 2. In about eighteen hours after leaving Beirout we reached the harbor of Jaffa (Joppa). Our arrival threw the crowded deck into a swarm. Jews and Moslems scrambled for their baggage, over bales, boxes, and bodies ; shrivelled old women stooping over the port-hole at the imminent peril of their lives, and screamed towards the bottom of the boat for their goods. It was a tumult¬ uous scene, inferior only to that of the high sea in the harbor, which would not allow us to land. A few small 520 JOPPA. boats ventured ashore with passengers, which gallopped over the tossing waves, sometimes almost standing on-end, • at others nearly hid between the waves. Here we tarried half a day, thinking and reading of Jonah, Tabitha, and Peter. Along the sea-side” are still a number of tan¬ neries, one of which tradition points out as the house of Simon the tanner. Acts 10 : 6. Whether it be the identi¬ cal house I will not say ; but it must have been here¬ abouts, for it was “by the sea-side.” Tanneries being a species of nuisance in the East, are not often allowed to be removed into new localities. They are permanent fixtures in oriental cities, from which it is naturally and reasonably inferred that Simon the tanner must have had his establishment at the same place. “ Lydda was nigh to Joppa,” where Peter healed Eneas of the palsy. He preached the Gospel through this region until all that dwelt at Lydda and Saron turned to the Lord. Thither they sent for Peter when the beneficent Dorcas had died at Joppa, whom he restored to life. Acts 9. Joppa is one of the oldest cities in Palestine, if not in the world. When Joshua divided Canaan among the twelve tribes, he gave Jopha (Joppa) to Dan. Joshua 19 : 46. Erom remotest antiquity it was the principal sea-port of Canaan, as it is to this day. Though thirty miles distant, it was the nearest port to Jerusalem. In building the temple, Solomon brought wood from Lebanon to this harbor. “We will bring it to thee in floats by sea to Joppa^ and thou shalt carry it up to Jerusalem.” 2 Chron. 2 : 16. When Ezra rebuilt the temple, he again brought “ cedar trees from Lebanon to the sea (harbor) of Joppa.'' Ezra 3:7. It now is the only sea-port, of any importance, in Palestine. All persons going to Jeru¬ salem by sea, land here ; and all its merchandise is brought i JOPPA. 521 through this port. The increase of traffic and travel has given it a new impulse, and of late years increased its population to 15,000, a number equal to that of the Holy City itself. Joppa is built cn a ledge of rocks which projects into the sea. On this it recedes and rises from the coast, assuming somewhat the shape of a cone, around which large gardens of orange, citron, and pomegranate trees spread. No oranges are so luscious, rich in flavor and juicy, as these at Joppa. From our steamer in the harbor, its snow-white houses and green groves gave it the ap¬ pearance of a fairy city, where the air is redolent with sweetest odors, and the eye is charmed by every color and element of natural beauty. These, together with the large yellow fruit pendent from every limb, half hid among the dark green leaves, reminded me more than any other country outside of Italy, of Goethe’s couplet “ Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronem bllih’n, Im dunklen Laub die Gold-orangen gllih'n?^' The harbor of Joppa is like a large boiling caldron, often in uproar and commotion when the sea is calm. It is rarely quiet enough for vessels to land their passengers. The ‘^mighty tempest” which overtook Jonah here, could make terrible havoc with a sea that is rough enough in its calmest moods. While our ship lay at anchor, my imagination could see this fugitive prophet take his de¬ parture from here. In this harbor he met a ship going to Tarshish, perhaps the Tarsus of Paul. “He paid the fare and went down into it,” just as people do now who travel on the sea. But why go to sleep in a storm ? Perfectly natural, which every poor tempest-tossed, sea¬ sick body will do. A rough sea and a rocking ship stir 44* 622 UNCOMFORTABLE VOYAGING. up the bile, and produce drowsiness. I have seen a score of persons asleep on their seats and standing, an hour or two after the boat started, and often in the most violent storms. ' The insensibility which sleep affords, is a merciful pro¬ vision to all afflicted seafarers. If ever there was a being besides Sancho Panza who had reason to bless the inventor of sleep, the destroyer of panic and sorrow, it is the poor mortal who is rocked into this wave-ridden plight. And no sea has ever treated me as did this Me¬ diterranean. Its calms are storms, and its bumping waves give the ship an abrupt and rapid rocking motion, which the strongest and best acclimated seamen must often suc¬ cumb to. Those eleven days from Beirout to Marseilles, exceed everything in the whole range of my sea voyages. The debarking of our Moslem pilgrims at Alexandria, gave us more deck room, enough to perform all the sullen, ill- humored antics which the sea inspired. Strange deck scenes we had during that squally voyage. We roasted and groaned through long disgustful days in unconscious¬ ness, — a torpid, pouting, half-waking, half-dreaming state, filled with visions of the goodlier things of life on land, for whose enjoyment this pining ordeal was an effi¬ cient preparation. A ship or steamer in a storm is a grand sight. Taking your stand on the stern of a floating castle three hundred feet long, you are amazed at her defiant progress. Now rising on one end as she labors her way up a wave, then suddenly dropping on the other end in sliding down on the other side ; terrific masses of water dash over her deck ; far up on the sail-yards the sailors hang high in the howling tempest, singing their merry songs while they are taking in sails, and adjusting the ropes. The storm STORM AT SEA. 52a howls and rages in vain, for a man at the small wheel works the rudder which controls the mighty machinery, men, masts, and engine, and the ship sports triumphantly with wind and wave. Like the rudder of a ship, which turns and steers it through “ fierce winds,” so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things.” James 3 : 4, 5. Few persons possess the capacity to enjoy a storm at sea. The Psalmist must certainly have seen ships in a storm, and possibly even felt their motion, for he describes the scene in detail, even to the sea-sick passengers. “ They that go down to the sea in ships, That do business in great waters ; These see the works of the Lord, And his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, Which lifteth up the waves thereof. They (the ships) mount up to the heaven. They go down again to the depths ; Their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro. And stagger like a drunken man. And are at their wits^ end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, And he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm. So that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; So he bringeth them unto their desired haven.^^ Psalm 107 : 23-30, 524 THE OKEEE CHAPEL. CHAPTER XXlIl, ttmBtoarh ImanJi. “Immer, immer nach Westen, Dort muss die Kuste sich zeigen. Traue dem leitenden Gott.” Schiller. The Greek chapel in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, contains a depression in the floor, a little hole in the pavement, which, these Christians say, marks the geographical centre of the earth. Possibly they were led to assume such a claim for their place of worship, from its nearness to Calvary and the Saviour’s Sepulchre. Although their geography may be at fault, this spot has a marked typical meaning. For so far as the facts and forces of Christianity can be historically localized, Jerusalem is both the starting point and centre of Christ’s Kingdom on earth. It was here, where the temple altar flowed with typical blood for centuries, and sent up clouds of propitiatory incense to the God of Israel, that He crowned His sufferings and completed His atoning sacrifice. And among the last words which He spoke to his apostles after His resurrection were these ; “ That repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem,'* Luke 24 : 47. \ COURSE OF CHRISTIANITY. 625 I have elsewhere spoken of the geographical adapta¬ tion of Palestine to be the nursery and central theatre of the earthly history of the Church of Christ, before and since His incarnation. The direction in which Christi¬ anity has mainly spread since the birth of Christ, fur¬ nishes an impressive illustration on this point. Our Saviour sent His apostles “ into all the world ” to proclaim His Gospel. Some went to Egypt, and others into Arabia. Down into the depths of the Asiatic and African continents the early heralds of the cross bore the tidings of salvation. For a while flourishing congregations were established and maintained in some parts of the East, of which all but their petrified and ossified relics have long since disappeared. At the same time Paul and Peter preached the Gospel and established churches westward, and these have propagated the leaven of Christianity still onward. In this direction the moulding stream of vital Church life has mainly flowed, and continues to flow. To evade the murderous designs of Herod, Joseph and Mary fled to Egypt with the infant Jesus. Geographi¬ cally it was a step backward in the course of Christian events. But it must needs be that the Messiah should in a certain sense commence His atoning career in the country whence, as the shekinah, He led His ancient peo¬ ple out of the house of bondage. Thus Tie hallowed the Morning Land^ where Science, Art, and Civilization first dawned — where Homer, Plato, Xenophon, and even Moses, sat at the feet of Egypt’s wisdom ; showing that He came not to destroy science, but to sanctify and per¬ fect it. But He could not remain or go further South and East. Thus when Israel was an infant nation, and when the Messiah was an infant Redeemer, they were both called out of Egypt. “ When Israel was a child, then I 526 Peter’s vision. loved him, and called my son out of Egypt.’* Hosea 11 : 1. Out of Egypt have I called my son.” Matt. 2 : 15. The progress of Science, Civilization, and Keligion, has always followed the course of the sun — Westward. Erom the East the star brought the Wise men in search of the new-born King at Bethlehem. During our Saviour’s life and ministry His immediate mission was confined to Palestine — the ancient Land of Promise. His labors were specially directed to the lost sheep of the House of Israel. The instructions which He gave to His chosen apostles in sending them out were to the same effect. Matt. 10 : 5-6. This led Peter and some of the rest to adopt Judaizing views. They lost sight of the Saviour’s prophetic remarks to the woman of Samaria, that the period was at hand when “ neither in this mountain [Gerizim, where the Samaritans had their altar] nor yet at Jerusalem they should worship,” but from that time on “ the true worshippers should worship the father in spirit and in truth.” John 4 : 21-23. Peter thought that all would have to become Jews, be circumcised, be¬ fore they could be received as Christians. To convince him that the Gentiles were also fit subjects for the re¬ demption of Christianity, God gave him a vision. One day at noon, he went on a quiet retired house-top to pray. Being at meal time he became hungry, and be¬ fore he received anything to eat fell into a trance. He saw a vessel descending from heaven, containing all manner of beasts, among others such as the Jewish Law pronounced unclean. A voice told him to slay and eat, but'with his Jewish notions he refused to comply. The voice told him not to call that unclean which God had cleansed. While thinking over the strange vision three PROGRESS OF CHRISTIANITY. 527 men, wbo had been sent hither from Cesarea by Cornelius, “stood before the gate and called, and asked whether Simon, which was surnamed Peter, were lodged there.” (You still see persons calling with a loud voice at the doors of houses, inquiring after persons within). The apostle went with the messengers and on the second day they reached Cesarea, thirty-five miles from Joppa. Here the whole vision interpreted itself to Peter, and he preached his first sermon to a Gentile congregation in the house of Cornelius, composed of “ his kinsmen and near friends.” Acts 10. This vision of Peter at Joppa, showing him that “ the field is the world,” is very significant. It could not have happened with the same propriety anywhere else. Here, at the ancient and modern sea-port of Palestine — the extreme outpost of the Land of Promise, where Europe and Asia meet — the landing-point of the pilgrims coming to Jerusalem from the West; the leaying-point for those who go away westward ; here, on a house-top by the sea¬ side, Peter looked up at the descending vision — looked, perhaps, wdth his face toward the setting sun — and read his first intelligible lesson in Catholic Christianity. Now' the Gospel spread westward, to Asia Minor, Greece, and Europe. Paul, in chains, carried it to Malta, and thence to Pome. It spread north and west, in spite of the influx of the Barbarians. Along the Rhine to the Northern Ocean, over Gaul, across the Channel into Britain — westw'ard still it moved. Then came the discovery of America, wdiich reared the Cross on the shores of the American continent, upon which Europe poured her choicest subjects. Efforts w'ere vainly made to begin in the west, and come eastward. Only the colonies on the Atlantic coast, however, succeedeil. Pa- 528 STILL WESTWARD. pidlj Christianity works its stream westward, across the Allegheny mountains ; rolls its vivifying streams athwart the Mississippi valley, over the Rocky Mountains, to the Pacific coast. There another powerful kingdom may be established, which will be to the isles in the Pacific, to China, Japan, and the vast, unexplored, benighted re¬ gions beyond, what Great Britain has been to America and the intervening islands. Thus has the course of Christianity followed the course of the sun. The star which guided the Wise Men from the East, has been going westward ever since, like the shekinah of the . Israelites, leading the armies of God over Red Seas, and sterile deserts, and across mountains, evermore planting the flag of triumph on new fields of victory. “Westward the Star of Empire takes its way: and it is, geographically, true, that Westward the Star of Christianity makes its way. Westward, through many centuries, it has been carried on the tide of commerce, by the waves of the sea and the storms of the air, from mountain to mountain, from sea to sea, from island to island, from continent to continent. And westward still it moves, with mysterious and resistless majesty and power. Not backward, but onward, it must go ; until, like the natural sun in his course, the Sun of Righteous¬ ness will have completed the circuit of the earth and shone upon every zone and clime ; when the sheet of Peter’s vision will become a sheet of grace and glory, whose divine and infinite folds will encircle the earth. Then the fulness of the Gentiles shall be brought in, and all Israel shall be saved.” All the missionary work which has thus far been ac- ALEXANDRIA. 520 complished in tlie East is simply to prepare the way and make straight the path of coming final events — coming not from Europe or America directly, but coming from the East, from Empires still sitting in the region and shadow of death. This should not diminish our ardor in the cause of Foreign Missions, but rather increase it. It is a great honor even to labor as did John the Baptist — prepare the way of the Lord. Christians sometimes become discouraged with the limited success of the Fo¬ reign Missionary work. Hitherto it has been limited, and the final and complete results wdll only be fully seen and reaped at the sun-set of the world’s history, when the star of Bethlehem shall again come from the East, leading the countless millions of her idolatrous subjects to bow around the Cross on Calvary. Then, instead of Baal, the impersonation of the natural sun, they will W'orship the God of gods, and Light of lights, and ascribe to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.” The houses of Joppa were already lit up, its hill-sidea gleaming with many lights, when our steamer swaggered out of the troubled harbor. The illuminated hill rising up from the sea, reminded me of Old Edinburgh after night, as seen from the new city, where the steep hill is hung with thousands of lights which look like lines of glimmering stars stretched along the heavens. We passed in sight of the land of the Philistines, but darkness hid its coast from our vision. At six the next morning we reached Alexandria. Our steamer tarrying two days and a half here, we had an opportunity to see something more of the city. When we arrived here three months before, everything appeared singular and novel. Now its streets 45 2 1 530 MARSEILLES. and customs seem as natural as those of Philadelphia or New York. Homeward-bound ! Yes, westward still our toiling steamer works its way over the troubled sea. We touched at Malta, passed along the coasts of Sicily and Sardinia. Black clouds hung over the blue Sardinian hills, with here and there a fissure through which a seam of brilliant sunlight was pouring with dazzling effulgence. Then we coasted along the island of Corsica, and finally, after a voyage of eleven days, reached Marseilles, on a pleasant Sabbath morning. A considerable time elapsed until our steamer had worked itself through the crowded harbor to the quay. The examination of baggage by the custom¬ house officers detained us at the wharf until the middle of the forenoon. The few precious relics and mementoes of my journey were happily buried in an old camel sack, which they deemed it useless to examine. A friend, who was less fortunate, brought a few contraband Damascus shawls, for which he paid twelve dollars tribute. The city had quite a week-day appearance for the Lord’s day, as all French cities have. But few stores were closed, and the streets were thronged with people of business and pleasure. Thus far on our homeward voyage we enjoyed the so¬ ciety and companionship of Mr. L - and lady, from Connecticut, who vainly sought a restoration of his health in an Eastern clime ; and Rev. W. Arthur and lady, from England. Mr. Arthur is a Wesleyan minister, and a distinguished writer — author of the Tongue of Fire, and of Italy in Transition, both works which have an exten¬ sive circulation in this country. In all my pilgrimage I met few men in whom genius and a meek Christian spirit were so beautifully blended. Our paths diverged here. CONCLUSION. 531 obliging us to part. On Monday morning, we gathered in an “upper room” in our hotel, spent a short season in singing and prayer, commending one another to the Keeper of us all, and beseeching Him to guide us to a happy meeting in the Jerusalem above, and then grasped hands, and sped away, Mr. M - and myself towards Paris, and the rest tarried for a season in the south of France. ^ Thus “strangers and pilgrims on the earth” meet and part. “ I believe in the Communion of saints, the Resur¬ rection of the body, and the Life everlasting.” “Noch in den letzten Ziigen werd ich lallon, Auf Wiedersehn im ewgen Vaterland.^' HEIGHTHS AND DEPTHS. Great Hermon . Mount Sinai, (two highest peaks) . Jehel Mousa (traditional peak of the giving of the Law) . . Mount Serhal . . . Convent of Sinai . . . Baalbec . Hebron . Mount Gerizim . Mount Ebal . . Bethlehem . Mount of Olives . Damascus. . . Jerusalem . Mount Tabor . Shechem . . . Mount Carmel . Nazareth . Lake Merom . Lake of Genesaret (Sea of Galilee) . Dead Sea . 10,000 feet high. 9,300 ii (( 7,500 a 6,759 a t( 5,452 tt 3,700 a tt 2,800 n tt 2,500 n tt 2,500 a tt 2,500 a tt 2,398 a tt 2,300 a tt 2,200 n tt 1,800 a It 1,700 n tt 1,700 a tt 1,100 it tt 50 tt ft 652 below the sea. 1,312 (532) TEXTS OF SCErPTUEE ILLUSTEATED Genesis. Genesis. Exodus. Chap. Verse. Page. Chap. Verse. Page. Chap. Verse. Page 11 31, 489 33 4, 117 15 27, 104 12 6, 355 18-20, 355 16 3, 78 8, 849 35 330 13, 116 11-16, 34 14, 16, 350 17 118 13 300 36 8, 184 2, 3, 120 10, 293 37 356 11-16, 126 457 24, 347 18 7, 118 11, 312 25, 161 19 134 18, 216 41 49 145 14 813 14, 45 4, 407 15, 489 42, 176 10, 14, 135 •18, 351 45, 48 23 4, 367 15 2, 489 60, 49 26 181 16 7, 14, 200 48 7, 830 32 20, ' 136 18 12, 6, 165 89 49 14, 15, 431 430 Leviticus. 1-7, 426 21, 406 11 13, 406 19 313 29, 172 13 333 1, 246 31, 211 46, 46, 333 22 26, 312 239 Exodus. 14 19 32, 333 45 23 211 2 16, 148 23 69 24 493 204 3 1, 5, 149 138 Numbers. 18, 356 4 27, 118 6 5, 45 26 203 6 7, 66 10 36, 36, 147 12, 454 8 16, 66 11 4, 6, 78 33, 202 9 31, 32, 76 12 1. 163 28 849 10 21. 39 10, 834 10, 204 11 5, 891 13 201 29 13, 117 12 88, 162 23, 216 26, 493 89, 98 14 201 30 36, 280 14 98 40-45 201 81 40, 206 2, 93 20 1, 201 32 10, 801 15 96 17, 198 17, 804 22, 23, 102 23, 24, 196 45* (633) 534 TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE NUMBEfeS. Joshua. Chap. Verse. Page. Chap. Verse. 20 27, 197 . 3 15, 28, 187 4 21 4, 179 5 5, 120 14-16, 6, 154 6 20, 16, 204 29, 22 302 8 24 303 9 33, 32 1-5, 433 10 33 10, 109 11 35, 159 13, 14, 34 11, 442 12 3, 36 19, 163 13 27, 30, Deuteronomy. 17 1, 2 5, 5, 179 184 ' 19 5-11, 18, 21, 29, 35, 46, 8, 27, 29, 32, 3 9, 467 17, 443 25-27, 304 4 26, 27, 28, 43, 468 357 432 20 21 8 48, 7-9, 467 470 24 11 16, 10, 11, 154 77 Judges. 11, 12, 469 1 16. 14, 278 31 18 10, 425 3 Ol, 13, 31 21 17, 181 22 10, 258 4 24 6, 391 6 6 25 2. 66 19, 33-35, 27 18, 160 24, 304 8 21, 22, 26 28 56 29 6, 219 Q 32 1-12, 407 V 15 33 10, 100 11 34, 19, 431 13 6, 435 15 84 303 11, 21, 3, 288 16 Joshua. 18 30, 31, 2 16-22, 294 21 19, 8 301 25, ILLUSTRATED. Ruth. Page. Chap. Verse. Page 300 2 3, 326 294 4 11, 246 294 289 1 Samuel. 289 1 351 289 7 5, 348 288 10 17, 348 357 26, 348 314 11 1-11, 428 461 15, 294 348 12 17, 279 442 13 21, 332 442 18 6, 7, 111 433 21 334 433 22 1, 2, 329 431 23 207 430 24 2, 314 371 25 207 515 26 7, 178 443 459 520 28 425 432 24, 427 432 29 1, 424 371 30 17, , 214 356 31 383 2 Samuel, 288 1 19-27, 428 402 23, 406 288 4 12, 210 332 6 344 429 247 422 7, 268 427 23, 24, 331 423 6 14, 31 423 7 326 352 8 6, 489 358 8, 509 600 15 80, 267 111 16 267 45 9, 65 285 17 805 217 17, 259 391 19 8, 246 465 15-40, 294 465 21 6, 348 361 12-16, 428 472 23 314 V 535 TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATED. 2 Samuel. 2 Kings. Psalms. Chap Verse. Page. Chap. Verse. Page. Chap. Verse. Page. 23 4, 208 9 30, 417 23 4, 256 15, 326 14 7, 190 42 1, 405 28, 489 179 1 Kings. 18 364 46 4, 240 1 9, 259 17, 261 48 2, 268 2 16, 258 20 20, 251 2, 3, 250 3 4-14, 348 23 10, 260 12, 13, 247 4 33, 154 15, 16, 350 57 329 500 59 6, 55 5 500 1 Chronicles. 65 12, 18, 210 6, 515 10 12, 428 68 15, 16, 343 6 7, 253 12 40, 431 69 12, 246 7 2, 495 21 241 72 6, 208 9 18, 495 79 1, 251 27, 515 2 Chronicles. 87 1, 343 10 27, 290 2 16, 520 rr • , 843 11 7, 262 12 4, 825 89 12, 435 24, 489 18 9, 246 92 12, 59 43, 258 26 10, 398 103 5, 405 12 28, 137 20, 334 16 200 350 32 30, 251 104 6-25, 505 16 24, 363 35 383 16, 500 17 515 430 18, 314 6, 6, 287 Ezra. 107 23-30, 523 18 13-40, 395 3 7, 520 82, 105 40, 396 108 10, 191 46, 397 Nehemiah. 119 176, 281 19 149 2 14, 257 120 4, 108 4, 108 3 15, 257 121 343 9, 130 8 15, 277 6, 142 •15, 16, 404 9 38, 175 469 19, 320 122 343 19-21, 378 Esther. 3, 262 20 23, 365 3 12, 175 7, 250 21 1, 375 125 2, 262 424 Job. 133 3, 468 22 48, 158 5 10, 469 142 329 6 15-18, 398 149 112 2 Kings. 9 7, 8, 156 150 112 1 8, 396 39 10, 462 9, 404 j. vj 19-25^ 368 Proverbs. 8 11, 174 27-30, 407 20 4, 320 4 379 40 17-23, 462 26 1, 279 8-10, 377 41 24, 391 30 19, 406 6 7, 333 31 19, 815 12, 490 Psalms. 27, 334 8 218 Ecclesiastes. 6 29, 365 22 12, 432 2 5, 6, 217 8 13, 55 23 2, 119 11 1, 74 636 TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATED Ecclesiastes. Isaiah. Chap. Verse. Page. Chap. Verse. Page. 11 4, 320 35 2, 500 12 4, 390 6, 7, 121 6, 76 10, 348 11, 332 36 2, 261 38 14, 603 Song OF Solomon. 40 3, 87 8, 9, 405 16, 600 11-13, 277 31, 407 17, 405 41 18, 121 3 5, 406 47 2, 391 6, 208 53 5, 66 4 8, 468 7, 281 12, 217 60 9-15, 473 15, 500 62 6, 245 5 2, 264 10, 87 7 4, 494 64 9-11, 339 7, 59' 65 6, 142 8 11, 495 Jeremiah. Isaiah. 2 13, 347 1 6, 333 5 24, 278 6, 7, 414 7 31, 260 2 343 8 7, 206 4, 320 503 13, 500 10 5, 69 4 6, 177 14 5, 405 7 3, 261 15 19, 432 8, 490 25 10, 390 8 4, 490 31 21, 152 9 1, 445 37 21, 478 10, 290 38 252 10 9, 490 6, 847 33, 260 41 17, 327 34, 500 46 18, 399 12 3, 249 19-26, 60 14 8, 500 49 16, 191 16 1, 190 19, 296 19 5, 6, 78 8, 77 Lamentations. 18, 19, 48 2 340 25, 81 15, 341 21 11, 182 4 1, 251 22 9, 261 5 340 28 17, 296 16, 112 82 2, 203 18, 285 S3 9, 500 84 184 Ezekiel. 8f 1, 60 6 5, 471 2, 398 9 175 Ezekiel. Chap. Verse. Page. 23 40, 417 26 15, 615 27 5, 468 500 i 18, 490 29 3, 77 14, 15, 66 15, 80 30 13, 80 60 32 18, 80 37 261 39 00 432 47 240 16, 508 Daniel. 6 10, 42 Hosea. 6 1, 435 8 1, 407 11 1, 526 14 7, 500 Joel. 2 23, 278 3 10, 321 Amos. 1 1, 329 2, 398 4 1, 432 6 1, 366 7 4, 290 15, 329 8 11, 329 9 ' 2,8, 399 14, 15, 329 Micah. 1 6, 366 3 12, 258 4 3, 320 5 2, 325 6 1, 2, 343 7 14, 398 432 TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATED. 537 Zechabiah. Matthew. Luke. Chap. V erse. Page. Chap. Verse. Page. Chap. Verse. Page 13 1, 240 15 32-38, 452 4 27, 367 14 256 16 433 28, 29, 388 8, 241 467 5 1-11, 446 17 433 6 1 456 Matthew. 14-27, 446 17-49, 439 2 15, 526 18 6, 391 88, 142 17, 18, 331 21 269 213 23, 214 1, 277 7 39, 275 3 305 2, 223 8 449 1-4, 283 33, ^ 216 27, 452 13, 215 23 27, 212 9 433 4 1, 295 24 2, 32, 244 10 4, 117 5, 6, 255 20, 278 30, 284 12, 13, 444 41, 390 12 54, 279 13, 45S 25 32, 33, 281 55, 279 445 26 39-49, 266 13 4, 257 15, 444 27 60, 347 8, 35C 445 14 6, 347 18-22, 445 Mark. 15 4, 280 23, 439 1 23, 492 17 333 24, 444 37 18 288 25, 444 2 6, .445 289 6 439 452 19 269 14, 392 tJ oo 453 288 458 6 33, 450 41, 269 6 439 55 445 21 37, 264 26, 874 7 ‘?4 1 74 23 39-44, 222 28, 29, 352 1 24I3O, 516 24 47, 524 30, 200 8 467 50, 271 7 13, 14, 439 248 11 1-9, 452 350 John. • 26, 27, 100 23, 277 1 17, 274 8 20, 285 15 40, 452 44, 445 374 16 3, 347 2 1, 392 28, 34. 451 4 354 9 1, 453 4-9, 289 456 Luke. 13, 14, 121 9, 445 1 26, 387 21, 23, 526 10 5, 6, 526 2 322 26, 392 39, 464 292 5 2, 262 42, 275 7, 328 6 451 11 2, 3, 450 24, 328 51, 325 7, 298 341 66, 67, 466 20, 453 32, 498 7 1, 467 20-24, 442 39, 415 37, 241 13 53-56, 388 44, 349 10 1, 466 14 450 51, 52, 415 280 84, 443 3 16, 93 4. 5, 27, 280 16 14, 347 4 26, 515 40, 306 638 TEXTS OF SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATED. Chap. John. Verse. Page. 11 276 18, 274 31, 272 13 26, 90 18 2, 264 22, 107 19 23, 142 41, 267 21 448 2, 392 1 Acts. 12, 271 19, 259 2 9, 10, 249 7 15, 16, 356« 22, 49 8 40, 136 518 9 5, 332 11, 477 17, 489 29, 30 517 38-41, 520 10 517 Chap. Acts. Verse. Page. 10 527 6, 520 12 2, 519 22, 23, 518 18 18, 45 24, 30 21 518 4, 5, 516 7, 402 24 24, 25, 517 26 518 27 22 3, 516 28 3, 16 12, 16 2 Corinthians. 5 1, 92 6 14, 258 11 24, 66 1 Galatians. 17, 149 4 24, 273 Ephesians. Chap. Verse. Page 5 27, 273 Hebrews. , t 1-4, 351 12 18. 24 13 12, 261 20, 21, 242 James. 3 4, 5, 523 1 Peter. 2 25, 281 2 Peter. 1 18, 433 Revelations. 5 281 7 9, 59 18 22, 890 19 3, 311 21 8, 807 22 1, 74 11-15, 246 INDEX Aaron’s Grave, 197. Arana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, 489. Abraham’s oak at Hebron, 216. Absalom’s tomb at Jerusalem, 256. Aceldama, or Potter’s field at Je¬ rusalem, 259. Acre, City of, 402. Addllum (cave), 329. ^PItna, Mount, 16. Akaba (gulf), 155, 159, Alexandria, 27; Cleopatra’s Nee¬ dle, 29. Amalek, 106, 160. A MALE KITE army, 421. Apollos’ birthplace, 30. Arab encampment at Merom,463. Baalbec, 495 ; Ruined temples, 496. Balaam on Moab, 302. Baptism of John at the Jordan, 299. Bashan’s hills. 432. Bathing in the East, 485, Bedouin drama, 109. Bedouins parting from us, 214. Bedouins of Sinai, 141, 150, 161. Beersheba, 200. Beirout, first view, 504 ; Mis¬ sionaries, 508; Parting with Ahmed and his two servants, 51 1 ; Departure, 51 4. Beisan, or Beth-shan, 428. Bethel, 349; Abraham and Lot, 301. Bethany, 274. Bethlehem, 217, 321, 325. Bethsaida, 442. Birds of the air, 374. Brooks and streams in Palestine, 397. Buffaloes in Egypt, 32 ; in Pal¬ estine, 462. Burning bush at Mount Sinai, 138. Cairo, 37 ; Old Cairo, 52. Caipha, 899. Calvary, 235. Camel, The, 156, 165, 176. Capernaum, 442, 452. Carmel (Mount), 207. Catacombs at Malta, 21 ; in the desert, 57. Caves of Engeddi, 314. Cedars of Lebanon, 499. Cesarea Philippi, 464, 466. Cesarea (on the Mediterranean), 517. Cherith (brook), 287. Chorazin, 442. Christ’s birthplace, 322; Christ at Nazareth, 387 ; Christ at the well of Jacob, 354, 356; Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem, 267 ; Christ’s ascension, 270. Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 223. Clothing in the desert, 220. Coat of Christ, without seam, 143. Cgcle-Syria, 501. Coffee houses in the East, 485. Convent of Sinai, 128, 139. ' Convent of Rlltah, 331. ( 539) 540 INDEX. Convent of Mar Saba, 315. Convent of Mount Carmel, 400. Convents, serving as places of entertainment, 383, 403. Cooking, killing, and baking in the East, 426. Cornelius at Cesarea, 517. Customs of the East, 492. Damascus, first view of, 476; Straight street, 477; Inns, 478; Domestic life, 479 ; Hospitality, 480; Mosques and Mohamme¬ dans, 481 ; Ramadan (fasting season), 483 ; Social gathering, 484; History of Damascus, 489; Last view, 494. Dan, 465. Dancing in the East, 111. David’s tomb, 257. Dead of Sinai, 138. Dead Sea, 309. Demoniacs, 492. Dervishes (dancing Moslems), 44. Dogs, 40, 55, 375. Donkeys (asses), 36. Donkey boys, 35. Druses of Syria, 510. Eagles, 406. Easter in Jerusalem, 242. Ebal and Gerizim (curses and . blessings of), 357. Edom, 184. Egypt, Brick making, 56 ; Bond¬ age, 79; Egg ovens, 72; Char¬ acter of Egyptians, 64. Elljah’s cave on Mount Sinai, 130; Elijah on Carmel, 394, 404 ; Elijah and Elisha, 305 ; Elijah fed by the ravens, 287. Elim, 104. Elisha ploughing, 320. Elisha at Shunem, 327 ; Elisha on Carmel, 404; Elisha’s spring, 291. Endor, 421. En-Rogel, 259. Engeddi, 314. Eshcol, brook and grapes, 215. Ezion Geber, 158. Farming in Palestine, »19, 383. Farming Bedouins, 320. Feiran, Wady, 122. Fiery serpents, 154. Fig trees, 277, 350. Fishes and fishermen at the Sea of Galilee, 445. Flying fishes at Akaba, 173. Foxes in Palestine, 285. Franciscan procession in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 226. Galilee, Sea of, 441, 444. Gazelle (hart, hind, or roe), 179, 405; Meat of the Gazelle, 198. Gates of cities, 245. Gehenna or Hinnom, 260. Gethsemane, 265, 345. Gibea of Saul, 348. Gibeon, 348. Goad (ox-goad), 332. Golden calf, 136. Golden gate at Jerusalem, 263. Golden well, 251. Good Friday in Jerusalem, 22. Good Samaritan, Parable of, 284. Governor of Akaba, 157. Grave of an American at Akaba, 171. ..A Hazeroth, 153. Heat and cold, 206. Hebrews crossing the Jordan, 301. Hebron, 210. Heliopolis (On), 47. History on Egyptian tombs, 68. Holy Cities of the Jews, 457. Holy fire on the Greek Easter, 230. Holy Sepulchre, 224, 236. Homeward bound, 530. Hor, Mount, 182, 186. Hot Springs at the Sea of Gali¬ lee, 458. Hotels in Cairo, 34, 52 ; in Pal¬ estine, 402. Hussein, Sheikh, 181. Hyssop, 154. INDEX 641 ISSACHAB, 430. Jabesh-Gilead, 428. Jabin, King of Canaan^ Tfarring with the Jews, 428. Jacob blessing his sons, 431. Jehoshaphat, valley of, 255. Jenin (En-gannim), 371. Jeremiah’s cave, 252, Jericho, 288, 292, 295. Jerusalem, 261; Approach to, 218; Ancient Jerusalem, 250; Jews at Jerusalem, 337 ; Popu¬ lation, 336, 341 ; Mail arrange¬ ments, 221 ; Elevated situation, the high-place of Palestine, 342; History of Jerusalem, 343. Jews in the East, 472. Jewish grave-yard, 256. Jezreel, plain of, 382 ; city of Jezreel, 375. Jonah at Joppa, 521. John the Baptist, 283 ; at the Jordan, 305. Joppa, 519; Harbor of Joppa, 521 ; House of Simon the tan¬ ner, 520. Jordan, 297, 300; the river of death, 307. Joseph’s tomb, 356. Joseph and Mary at Bethlehem, 327. Joshua at Jericho, 288, 293. Josiah’s battle and death, 429. Jotham’s parable onGerizim, 358. Kedron, the brook, 241. King’s pool, 257. Kishon, the brook, 405, 394. Kissing salutations, 117. Lares on the Lebanon, 604. Law of Moses concerning the lep¬ rosy, 333. Lebanon, Anti, 474. Lebanon, Mount, 603. Lebonah, 351. Lepers in Jerusalem, 332. Lilies of the field, 362. Living fountain under the temple in Jerusalem, 240. 46 Locusts, used for food, 283. Lydda, 520. Machpelah, the field of, 211. Mahanaim, 304. Malta, 17. Maon, 207. Marah, 102 Maronites in Syria, 509. Mary’s home, 385. Mediterranean, 25. Memphis (Noph or No), 69. Merom, Lake, 460. Messina, 15. Midnight song, 116. Mill, Women grinding on a, 390- Mill stones, 391. Missionaries at Cairo, 35. Missionary at Nazareth, 410. Mizpeh, 348. Moab, Mountains of, 205. Mohammedan worship, 43. Mokatteb, Wady, 113. Monks in the East, 322, 403. Moses on Pisgah, 304. Moslem pilgrims to Mecca, 362. Mosques, 41. Mosque of Omar, 238. Mount of Beatitudes, 437. Mount Carmel, 394, 398. Mount Zion, 247, 258, 268. Muezzin (herald), 42, 244. Mukhna, plain of, 353. Murmuring, the, 118. Music, Egyptian, 60. Nablous, 358, 361. Nain, 421. Naples, Bay of, 14. Nazareth, 384, 408, 414. Nile, the, 60, 73. Night in Egypt, 39. Old and new bottles, 466. Obigen at Cesarea, 617 ; buried at Tyre, 616. Olivet, 242, 263, 267, 271. Ornan’s threshing floor, 241. Our caravan in the desert, 178. Palestine, description of by a missionary, 411. 542 INDEX Palm tree, The, 59. Parable op the sower, 454; of the wheat and tares, 454 ; of the mustard seed, 455. Paul and Ananias at Damascus, 489; Paul at Cesarea, 517; at Tyre and Sidon, 516; his ship¬ wreck at Malta, 21 ; his journey to Rome, 22. Peter preaching at Cesarea, 518. Petra, 187. Pilgrims to Sinai, 148. Pilgrims at Jerusalem, 248, 285. Pilgrims at the Jordan, 296. Pillar of Salt, 312. Pinnacle of the temple, 255. PlSGAII, 303. Pits or cisterns of Palestine, 347. Place of wailing in Jerusalem, 338. Plagues op Pharaoh, 56, 75, 80. ' Ploughshares and Pruning-^ HOOKS, 320. Pompey’s Pillar, 29. Pool of Hezekiah, 251. Pool of Siloam, 257. Pool (Upper) of Gihon, 261. Pool (Lower) of Gihon, 261. Pool op Bethesda, 262. Pyramids of Egypt, 32, 58, 63. Quails in the desert, 116. Quarantine, 208. Rachel’s grave, 330. Raiment of camel’s hair, 283. Rama, 331. Ramadan, 483. Raschid, Sheikh, 167, 182. Reed (cane) fields at the Jor¬ dan, 298. Rephidim, 125. Retrospect from Dan to Beer- sheba, 468. Riiegium, 16. Roads in Judea, 217. Road from Jerusalem to Jericho, 284. Robbers of Palestine, 422. Robbers at the Dead Sea, 400. Rock formations, 152. Rock smitten, 135. Ruth and Naomi, 326. Sabbath rest, 34, 199. Salem, Plain of, 351. Samaria, City and hill of, 363. Samaritan altar on Mount Gen* zim, 360. Samaritan congregation in Na blous, 359. Sand rivers in the desert, 152. Saul’s battle at Jezreel, 424 Saul at Endor, 425. Scribes (writers), 175. SCYLLA AND ChARYBDIS, 14. Sea of Galilee, 439. Sealing contracts, 175. Sea Sickness, 522. Seir, Mount, 182. Serbal, Mount, 122. Sermon on the Mount, 439. Shechem, 355. Shepherds and their flocks, 280. Ship in a storm, 522. Shunem, 376. Shittim trees, 148. Shoobra, 47. Silence of Sinai, 146. Sinai, Mount, 128, 144. Sinai and Zion, 273. Sin, Wilderness of, 109. Sirocco, 200. SiSERA, 429. Skylarks, 374, 504. Smoking at Damascus, 480. Sodom and Gomorrah, 311, 319. Solomon’s pools and gardens, 216 Spinning by Bedouin women, 314 Spring in Palestine, 277. St. Jerome at Bethlehem, 324. Storks, 205. Storm in the desert, 176, 205. Straight gate and narrow way, 248. Stromboli, Volcano of, J4. Swallows, 205. Sycamore tree, 48, 289. Syracuse, 16. Syrian massacres, 498. Tabor, Mount, 428, 433. INDEX 543 Tekoah, 329. Temple of ancient Jerusalem, 249. Tents on house-tops, 399. Tombs of the Kings, 346, Transfiguration, Mount of, 346. Tyre and Sidon, 514. Valley of Rephaim, 331. Virgin, Fountain of the, at Naza¬ reth, 416. Vault of Siloam, 341. Wadys are the highways of Sinai, 104. Walls of Jerusalem, 245. Washing the hands before and after eating, 173. Well of Jacob, 354, 361. Wells of Beershbba, 202. Westward course of Christianity, 524. Whited sepulchres, 212. Wild honey, 284. Wilderness of Judea, 286. Winter in Palestine, 277. Witch of Endor, 425. Woman in Egypt, 51. Woman among the Bedouins, 180. Woman among the Mohammedans, 483. Woman at Nazareth, 416. Writings on the rocks, 113. Zacheus, 289. Zarephath, or Sarepta, and the widow’s cruse of oil, 515. ZiN, Wilderness of 'Kadesh), 200 ZiPH, 207. 7HB END. A T a^VfT i‘^ je . T/ » «j> - ■ • I **’ ■ ^ * ' • . :*if .rj ;■ - K ^ • ' W t.: 7 Date Due ’ - ^0 ’4? i i F 13 ‘4c - ^ n .-y ♦ 7 % ' , 1 f i — > -« - K - c- i