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 O'er Oceans and Continents 
 
 WITH THE SETTING SUN 
 
 BY 
 
 FISCAR MARISON /r^^^L. 
 
 THIRD SERIES 
 
 JERUSALEM, PALESTINE IN BEDOUIN GARB, SYRIA AND 
 THE ISLANDS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN, 
 SMYRNA, CONSTANTINOPLE, 
 ATHENS, CORFU * 
 
 CHICAGO 
 AUTHOR'S EDITION 
 
Copyright, 1909 
 By GEO. J. BLATTER- 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 A 
 
 
 b 
 
 r\ 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 FEB 15 1909 
 
 Copyrignt Enb 
 
 uopyngm entry _ 
 m.ASS OC- XXc N( 
 
 R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY 
 CHICAGO 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 For this third series of "O'er Oceans" the 
 author kindly requests a continuance of the good 
 will which he met with in the publication of the 
 first and second series. It is issued for the same 
 purpose: to herald and promote the first English 
 translation of the great Spanish work, a Ciudad de 
 Dios." 
 
 Fiscar Marison. 
 331 91ST Street, Chicago. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Page 
 Constantinople from the Cemetery Frontispiece s 
 
 Mount Moria, Jerusalem 
 
 In Arab Costume 
 
 Nazareth .... 
 
 Entrance — The Holy Sepulchre - 
 
 Tarsus ..... 
 
 St. Sophia .... 
 
 Panorama of Athens and Eleusis 
 
 The Acropolis 
 
 Ruins of Olympia . 
 
 • 
 
 28 .• 
 
 • 
 
 47' 
 
 • 
 
 73 r 
 
 Interior 
 
 119 /• 
 
 • 
 
 146 ^ 
 
 • 
 
 174^ 
 
 • 
 
 203 ^ 
 
 • 
 
 213 < 
 
 • • 
 
 213 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 A Neat Piece of Smugglery — Ancient Jaffa — 
 Up Judea's Mountains to Jerusalem — At the 
 Austrian Hospice — Moonlight Wanderings — 
 An Hour at Gethsemane on Holy Thursday. 
 
 Having embarked on the steamer Thalia at Port Said, 
 we arose early next day, the Thursday of Holy Week, in 
 order to catch the first glimpse of the most sacred land 
 in all Christendom. The rays of the morning sun 
 blazed a wide pathway of glinting gold on the rippling 
 waves to the darker outlines of buildings and minarets of 
 ancient Jaffa, that rose on high bluffs over the blue 
 waters of the Mediterranean. 
 
 The steamer anchored in the deep water about a 
 quarter of a mile from the rocky shore, and in a mo- 
 ment the horde of carriers had surrounded the ship in 
 their boats and were climbing over the sides. Cook's 
 agent, who was dressed in a Turkish uniform, had 
 also boarded the ship with a bevy of carriers and boat- 
 men to get his share of the spoils. I determined to 
 trust myself into his hands, and see what he could do for 
 me in my attempt to smuggle myself into Turkish terri- 
 tory without a vise. But another set of fiends had already 
 snatched our handbags. While I set about recovering 
 them from their hands by main force, I suddenly stood 
 face to face with Mr. Wiltzius, of Milwaukee, who was 
 having a similar scramble. Of course we had a hearty 
 handshake, and he immediately decided to join us in 
 Cook's boat. So, with a score of other passengers, we 
 were soon approaching the dangerous rocks that jut out 
 of the waters near the shore. Our stout Turk, who had 
 
 ii 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 taken us in charge as Cook's agent in Jaffa, demanded 
 our papers. He returned my American passport with 
 the remark that it was not sufficient, and that I would 
 have trouble at landing. We were now approaching 
 the only opening between the broken rocks near the 
 shore. Huge waves were rolling against them, and if 
 the boatmen should allow the boat to swerve only a few 
 feet to one side or the other, we would be dashed to 
 pieces on their jagged edges. But they knew their 
 business, and shot us through the passage on the crest of 
 a wave, landing us safely at the pier of the custom-house. 
 Our stout Turk simply pushed his way past the Turkish 
 soldiers and custom officials, through a dark gateway, 
 beckoning us all to follow. I was wondering where we 
 would be stopped for our passports; but when we 
 issued on one of the lively streets to Jaffa, I under- 
 stood that our rotund guide had railroaded us through 
 the whole crowd of venal officials by that open sesame 
 of Turkish regime: bakshish. Well, it was a real 
 service, and I scored it up in favor of Cook's agency. 
 
 From a distance at sea, Jaffa looks like a well-built 
 city on the summit of wave-beaten cliffs. But when 
 you pass through the narrow, ruinous streets, and see the 
 hovels half buried in the wastes of thousands of years, 
 you quickly change your opinion. The upper bazaars, 
 and some few streets neighboring to them, show some 
 signs of modern improvement and regard for cleanliness. 
 They are full of life, and you will find people of all nations 
 mixed up with the swarming Turks and Arabs. For 
 those who are charitably inclined, it is better to procure 
 some of the small coins, paras and metaliques, in order to 
 satisfy the numerous demands of the beggars and bak- 
 shish hunters. We had made up our minds to stay for 
 dinner in the Franciscan hospice, one of the oldest build- 
 ings in Jaffa and overlooking the beach. A brother 
 showed us to Simon the Tanner's house, where St. Peter 
 
 12 
 
To Jerusalem. 
 
 saw the clean and unclean animals which he was com- 
 manded to eat let down from heaven in a cloth. Through 
 this vision he was instructed to receive the heathen cen- 
 turion into the church, who was already waiting at the 
 door of the house. A small mosque, very bare and dirty, 
 stands on the place. The old man that had charge of it 
 wanted us to take off our shoes ; but as our shoes were 
 much cleaner than the mosque we refused to undergo 
 that trouble. There was nothing inside that we could 
 not see from the door. It is of course only the traditional 
 spot where Simon's house used to stand ; for the house 
 itself has disappeared long ago. 
 
 We came very near missing the afternoon train to 
 Jerusalem by the blundering of Cook's agents that had 
 charge of our baggage. Happily Mr. Wiltzius had 
 bought tickets for us before we came. The train at first 
 winds through the plains of Sharon, where the German 
 Templars have planted some beautiful orange groves ; 
 but only for a few miles from Jaffa: beyond that the 
 land is not much cultivated. The plows used by some 
 of the natives on the fields were only two sticks of wood 
 tied together at right angles. Cows or oxen are hitched 
 to the free end of one stick. The plowman holds the 
 upper end of the other stick and presses on the lower end 
 slightly scratching the soil. After an hour or so we 
 passed Ramleh, one of the larger villages along the 
 railroad, where the old tower of Ramleh is visible from 
 the train. Lydda comes next, which is the birthplace of 
 St. George, and must have been quite a town formerly. 
 
 The progress of the train became still slower when we 
 began to reach the mountains of Judea. They are a 
 rocky desert, for the most part barren and treeless ; yet 
 wherever sheer necessity of procuring sustenance induced 
 the natives to cover the rocky ledges with ground, and 
 irrigate the sunburnt hillside, they were abundantly re- 
 warded. Most of the time the train goes no faster than 
 
 13 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 a walk. Such a pace would soon drive all traffic from an 
 American railroad, but it seems to do very well in Pales- 
 tine. Though the distance is only ninety kilometers or 
 fifty-two miles, it took the train five hours to reach 
 Jerusalem. The terminal station is outside the walls, 
 southwest of the city. The different new establish- 
 ments and settlements bid fair to become the most pop- 
 ulous portion of the historic Jerusalem. Among the 
 many establishments outside the city there are now quite 
 a number of Catholic ones, such as the German hospice, 
 the convent of Notre Dame, the Creche of the Sisters 
 of Charity, St. Peter's Institute of P. Ratisbon for boys, 
 St. Stephen's church and Dominican monastery, and 
 the Assumptionists' hospice. We hired a carriage in 
 order to be brought to Cook's office at the Jaffa gate. 
 There I received a batch of welcome letters from home, 
 reassuring me that all was well and prosperous. There 
 are no wagon roads in Jerusalem, and therefore in 
 order to reach the Austrian hospice, which was recom- 
 mended by Mr. Wiltzius, it was necessary to pass again 
 through the Jaffa gate on the road, which runs paral- 
 lel to and outside of the west walls to the Damascus 
 gate. Re-entering the city, we were soon hospitably 
 quartered in the Austrian hospice. 
 
 I had made some plans of my own in regard to the use 
 of the time after supper. I wanted to spend a part of the 
 evening of Holy Thursday alone in the garden of Geth- 
 semane, where our Saviour had begun his passion on the 
 same night nineteen centuries ago. Perhaps the same 
 beautiful moonlight filled the narrow streets and the val- 
 ley of the Kedron when he so sorrowfully wended his way 
 with the Apostles to the lonely garden. But my desire 
 of being alone on this excursion was doomed to disap- 
 pointment. I had hoped to be able to give my room- 
 mates the slip without being obliged to explain ; but Mr. 
 Wiltzius urged me to go with him to Casa Nova, the 
 
 14 
 
A Moonlight Walk. 
 
 Franciscan hospice, where he said we would meet Fathers 
 V. H. and B. I thought this was a fine chance to steal a 
 march on them, and I tried to induce him and my other 
 companion to hunt up those two gentlemen without my 
 company. But they would not be put off so easily as 
 that. I had to reveal my intention of visiting Gethsem- 
 ane, and then Mr. Wiltzius simply proposed to go with 
 me. As for my other companion, who was so hard of 
 hearing, he immediately suspected me of trying to shake 
 him off for good, and leave him henceforth to shift for 
 himself. It is needless to say that such a thought never 
 entered my mind. I had given my promise to conduct 
 him to Vienna, and nothing short of impossibility would 
 ever have induced me to leave that promise unfulfilled. 
 The trouble and annoyance caused by his infirmity, and 
 his suspicions which are consequent upon it, were some- 
 times very great, as can easily be imagined. Of course 
 after so much of my intended excursion had become 
 known, there was nothing else to do than to invite my 
 companions to join me. 
 
 There had been so much talk of the danger of passing 
 alone through the streets of Jerusalem and the territory 
 outside the walls, that the others insisted on taking along 
 Ali, the kawass of the hospice. I had intended to go 
 alone: now there was even a Mussulman in the party. 
 The four of us sauntered through the narrow street 
 leading to St. Stephen's gate, through the Turkish 
 cemeteries, down to the torrent of Kedron, and over the 
 stone bridge across it to the garden of Gethsemane. Its 
 high stone walls, only a few paces from the Kedron, 
 gleamed white in the moonlight, and the dark foliage of 
 the olive trees that overtopped the walls were not stirred 
 by even a breath of wind. To one side the rocky decliv- 
 ities of Mount Moria crowned by the spectral city walls, 
 and on the other, the stony heights of Olivet guarded the 
 intervening valley of Josaphat. Through this valley 
 
 15 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 trickles the brook Kedron, downward to the Hill of Bad 
 Council and Hinom Vale. What a sacred stillness 
 reigned here on this night in these holy places! The 
 silvery flood of moonlight lay poured out over hill and 
 valley, over crumbling walls and dark olive trees, and over 
 the gleaming rocks. Arriving at the low portal of the 
 enclosure of Gethsemane, we saw several dark forms of 
 persons crouched on the ledge of white rocks before the 
 gate, seemingly on the same errand as we ourselves. 
 The Franciscans are in possession of a part of the old 
 garden of Gethsemane, and we expected some kind of 
 divine service in it on Holy Thursday. So much the 
 greater was our surprise to find the portals closely barred 
 and our knocks remain unanswered. The rocks in 
 front of the gate, mark the spot where the three Apostles 
 fell asleep during the agony. About two or three hun- 
 dred feet from the garden walls is the grotto, or rather 
 the large cave, which is said to have been the scene of 
 the bloody sweat of the Lord. As we were not familiar 
 with the surroundings on our first night in Jerusalem, 
 we did not visit the grotto until some days after. It may 
 be that the Catholics had services there on that night ; but 
 we saw nobody going that way. 
 
 While we were contemplating the scenes around us, 
 we noticed some people straggling slowly up the moun- 
 tain along the road, and very soon we heard the mournful 
 strains of a song, now and then interrupted by spoken 
 words. Curiosity led us in the direction of the sounds, 
 and we came upon about a score of people, very well 
 dressed. They were standing on a ledge of the mountain 
 listening to a Protestant preacher, who was reading St. 
 John's account of this night's occurrences two thousand 
 years ago. He seemed to be very solemn and sincere in 
 his rendering of the passages, and the little band of pious 
 souls sang with much affection and devoutness. Though 
 it was only a Protestant service, the solemnity of the 
 
 16 
 
Protestant Devotion. 
 
 place and time no doubt was favorable to the workings 
 of God's grace in the hearts of the participants. Those 
 whom circumstances have deprived of the sunlight of 
 true Catholic doctrine do well not to reject the pale 
 glimmers of heresy for their devotion. We left these 
 devout persons in order to meditate for a while near the 
 entrance of the garden, and then returned across the 
 Kedron, climbing up to the right around the city walls, to 
 the Damascus gate on the other side of the city. Darkly 
 the old walls and the crumbling battelments of Jerusalem 
 rose, casting ghost-like yet well-defined shadows on the 
 rocky, moonlit ground to our left. Xor did the Turkish 
 sentinels that still watch the gates of Jerusalem deem it 
 worth while to leave their dark recesses or molest us, as 
 we passed under the vast arches of the Damascus gate. 
 Only a short distance inside the walls, on a road branch- 
 ing off to the left, we soon regained our rooms in the 
 Austrian hospice, and betook ourselves to our first 
 night's rest in the Holy City. 
 
 17 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Good Friday on Golgotha — A Gathering From 
 all Christendom — Turkish Coin, a Perpetuated 
 Fraud — In the Footsteps of the Savior — "His 
 Tomb Shall be Glorious." 
 
 Getting up early next morning we hastened on our way 
 to the church of the Holy Sepulchre in order to take part 
 in the service of Good Friday. Those parts of the church 
 which belong to the Catholics are in charge of the Fran- 
 ciscans, who have been the guardians of the holy places 
 in Palestine since the thirteenth century. Hence they 
 also conducted the Latin services. 
 
 The church of the Holy Sepulchre on feast days will 
 probably be a sad disappointment to the unwary stranger. 
 In his own country he associates with the celebration of 
 a feast in a Christian church, a solemn silence, devout 
 postures of the people, and heart-stirring music. Here he 
 will meet very little of all these. He will find the church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre filled with motley crowds from all 
 nations and climes, and belonging to different religions. 
 At his very entrance his eyes encounter a guard of Turk- 
 ish soldiers, lying or sitting on a raised platform, to the 
 left and inside of the portals. They laugh and talk and 
 gape at the passing crowds, even smoking their nargilehs. 
 More of these Turkish soldiers fully armed, he will after- 
 wards meet in all parts of the church, ready to interfere 
 at any disturbance with their weapons. Then he will 
 probably have to push his way through surging crowds of 
 Russian, French, German, Austrian, and English pilgrims, 
 and the adherents of the Greek, Coptic, Armenian 
 schisms, who fill the spacious recesses and naves of the 
 
 19 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 church. He can witness the services of the Latins, Greeks, 
 Copts, and Armenians at stated hours of the day, some- 
 times at the Holy Sepulchre, sometimes at the chapels or 
 altars belonging exclusively to each of these religions in 
 different portions of the temple. Indescribable con- 
 fusion often reigns, loud voices resound, songs of one 
 language mingle with those of another. Now and then 
 is heard the dull thud of the staff of a kawass, making 
 way for some procession, or the clangor of arms, separat- 
 ing clashing factions. 
 
 It is providential that the almost impartial Turk, 
 (impartial at least as long as the flow of bakshish is 
 not lessened), has control of the holiest place on earth. 
 Under present partial ownership of the church, among 
 so many nations and factions, divine worship without 
 this control would no doubt become entirely impossible 
 on account of continued quarrels. 
 
 I took part in the Missa Praesanctificorum in com- 
 pany with the Franciscans and a goodly number of pil- 
 grim priests. The robed and surpliced priests moved 
 in procession past the Holy Sepulchre from the Latin 
 sacristy up the stairs to mount Calvary in another part 
 of the church. The exact spot where the Cross stood 
 is in the hands of the Greek popes, and their fanaticism 
 prevented any services being held on that altar. Imme- 
 diately aside of it is the altar of the crucifixion — the spot 
 on which Jesus was nailed to the Cross — and this is in 
 possession of the Latin monks. The usual ceremonies 
 of Good Friday took place according to the Latin rite. 
 But the singing of the orations and lessons, and of the 
 Passion was considerably mixed with Italian variations, 
 which detracted a great deal from the beauty and the 
 grandeur of the Gregorian chant. The solemn kissing 
 of the large crucifix, which lay on the exact spot where 
 the Son of God was nailed to the Cross, was performed 
 by the priests, the nuns of the different convents, and 
 
 20 
 
On Golgotha. 
 
 by such of the pilgrims as were fortunate enough to be 
 able to approach. These ceremonies, which typify the 
 reality enacted on this spot, could not but deeply im- 
 press the beholder. Passing out of the ancient portals 
 of the church into the square court or piazza, which is 
 paved with large flagstones and surrounded by half- 
 ruinous buildings, we had to take care not to step on the 
 heaps of devotional articles exposed for sale in every 
 direction. Near these gaudy piles of merchandise sat 
 the venders and hawkers of different nationalties — Jews, 
 Arabs, Armenians, Greeks, and Turks. In fact all the 
 streets in the neighborhood are only a continuation of 
 this motley bazaar. They charge what they can get, and 
 seem to do thriving business. Buyers are always safer 
 in offering about half of the price first asked. Money 
 changers, brooding over their wire-screened boxes, sit 
 around on ever}' corner, ready to change your gold or 
 foreign money into small Turkish currency. They take 
 care to charge you enough for the exchange. 
 
 French or English silver or gold will serve very well 
 for large payments of purchases, though even these are 
 accepted only at a discount ; but for daily use you must 
 have Turkish money. This Turkish money is a grand 
 scheme of larceny from the Sultan's throne down to the 
 lowest beggar on the streets. Turkish money has differ- 
 ent values according to the person you are dealing with, 
 and according to the circumstances of the transaction. 
 In dealing with the government its value is least; the 
 wholesaler will accept it at a less value than the retailer, 
 and the retailer will shrewdly gauge the value of the 
 money he gets for his goods by the gullibility of the pur- 
 chaser. Moreover, the same money has different values 
 in different towns of Turkey. In its denominations it is 
 the most illogical in existence. In Jerusalem, a medjid, 
 which is a piece of silver about the size of our dollar, is 
 equal to twenty-five piastres, each one of these is equal 
 
 21 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 to nine metaliques and one kabach, one metalique is 
 equal to four kabaches and two and a half paras. All 
 below the ruba-medjid, or quarter of a medjid, is of a 
 base alloy of copper and nickel, worth about one-hun- 
 dredth of the face value. A bishlik is a thin piece of 
 alloy an inch and a quarter in diameter, worth three 
 piastres. As soon as you get outside of Jerusalem you 
 will have to study a new table of values for your money. 
 In fact you will find that your money changes its value 
 as often as you leave the neighborhood of any consider- 
 able town in this land of bakshish and fraud. 
 
 After services we paid a visit to Casa Nova, and saw 
 there our former fellow-travelers, Revs. B. and V. H. 
 They had made a flying trip through India while Rev. 
 S. and Mr. H. had gone direct from Colombo to Brindisi. 
 The former two were to leave on the next day ; they had 
 been only two weeks in Palestine, and had not made the 
 trip to Nazareth or other points in Galilee. 
 
 The dinner at the Austrian hospice was always a 
 lengthy affair. To us it seemed unbearable, and very 
 often we left the table before the others were half through. 
 I suppose the slow and easy-going Austrians thought it 
 rather strange. They indulged in great honneurs, w T hen 
 the Austrian consul came to dine. 
 
 In the afternoon of Good Friday the pilgrims and the 
 resident Catholics turned out in great numbers to make 
 the Way of the Cross on the Via Dolorosa publicly under 
 the leadership of the Franciscans. At each station one 
 of the Fathers, who wore a long, flowing beard, preached 
 in French. The first station, where Jesus was con- 
 demned to death, is within a paved court, hemmed in 
 by the walls of an old church and other buildings now 
 used as barracks. The second, where Jesus took upon 
 Himself the cross, is on the other side of the street, a little 
 to the east of this court, where the Ecce Homo arch is 
 built into the convent of the Ratisbon Sisters. The 
 
 22 
 
The Sorrowful Way. 
 
 third, the first fall under the Cross, is on the same street 
 in the united Armenian chapel. Adjoining the Austrian 
 hospice, on a fork of the road, is the fourth station, the 
 meeting of Jesus and Mary. The station of Simon is at 
 the intersection of a road leading up to the church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre; and that of Veronica is somewhat up 
 the hill on this road, just before coming to the walls of the 
 old city. 
 
 Going farther up the same road, beneath the maze 
 of a dark, arched passage, on the other side of the 
 ancient gateway, is the seventh station, the second fall 
 of Jesus under the Cross. Within a Greek convent is the 
 spot where the holy women stood weeping ; it is marked 
 by a cross in the outside wall of the convent bordering 
 the street. The ninth, the third fall, is between the 
 walls of the convent and the walls of the church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre. The station of the despoiling of the 
 garments is inside the church of the Holy Sepulchre, at 
 the head of the stairs of the Latin chapel of the cruci- 
 fixion. Only ten steps farther on, in the same chapel, 
 Jesus was nailed to the cross, the spot being marked by 
 a mosaic cross on the floor, which we had venerated that 
 morning. The twelfth, the death of Jesus, is at the 
 Greek altar of this chapel. The spot where Jesus died 
 on His Cross belongs to the Greek monks, and is adorned 
 by a magnificent bronze crucifix. It must be understood 
 that the two altars, the Latin and the Greek, stand side 
 by side in this chapel of the crucifixion on Mt. Gol- 
 gotha. Between them is a space of about four feet. 
 Near by, a statue of the Mater Dolorosa marks the thir- 
 teenth station. The fourteenth station, the burial of 
 Jesus, is of course downstairs on the main floor inside 
 the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 Following the lead of the Franciscans, a multitude 
 of earnest worshippers from all parts of the globe made 
 the sorrowful Way. The whole courtyard of Pilate and 
 
 23 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the adjoining streets were filled with devout pilgrims, 
 listening to the short exhortation and joining in the pub- 
 lic prayers. The procession grew larger as it moved on 
 from station to station. All were visibly moved and 
 hesitated not to kneel in the filthy streets and join the 
 responses. Conspicuous near the white-bearded Fran- 
 ciscan was always the tall and stout figure of Father V. H. 
 seemingly more moved than the rest. The church was 
 much too small for the crowds, and only a few could 
 reach the last four stations. The services of the Latins 
 on Good Friday night close with ten sermons, in ten 
 different languages, held at the same time in the different 
 portions of the church. During these days many colored 
 lamps are lighted over the holy grave and in other parts 
 of the basilica, so that the prophecy of the scriptures, 
 that "his grave shall be glorious" is literally fulfilled. 
 
 S4 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Bethlehem of Juda — Jaffa Gate and its Sur- 
 roundings — The Cenacle — Cursed Hinom — 
 Siloa's Pool in Josaphat Valley — Jealous Fa- 
 natics — A Spot of Ceaseless Wailing. 
 
 Early in the morning of Holy Saturday three of us 
 were seated in a carriage on our way to Bethlehem. 
 The drive to Bethlehem lasts little longer than an hour, 
 and we soon alighted in the large square near the basilica 
 of the Nativity. Thither we went while Mr. Wiltzius 
 attended to some business at the rosary manufactories. 
 The pealing of the great organ filled the church with 
 gladsome strains of victory, and the Allelujas of the 
 priests at the altar already announced the great triumph 
 of the morrow. As we intended to visit Bethlehem more 
 at leisure later we took only a cursory glance at the 
 church and the caves of the Nativity. We were back in 
 the city for dinner, and, having purchased Lievin's guide 
 through the Holy Land, we started out on our visits to 
 remarkable places in and about Jerusalem. Lievin, a 
 Franciscan, has made a life-study of the holy places, 
 and is by far the best and the most reliable author on 
 Palestine. The Franciscans are in a position to speak 
 with authority on holy places, since, as custodians, they 
 are not only familiar with them, but are also likely to be 
 cautious in interpreting the thousands of different tradi- 
 tions which exist among the Moslems, Greeks, Arme- 
 nians, and Copts about the holy places. As for Baedeck- 
 er's account, it is worthless wherever it pretends to treat 
 of objects or traditions dear to Catholic travelers. I 
 have more than once closed Baedecker's guide-books 
 
 25 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 with disgust. This condemnation he deserves also in 
 regard to holy places in other parts of the world. 
 
 We began our explorations at the Jaffa gate. This 
 part of the city is the most frequented, for here is the 
 business quarter of the Europeans inside of the walls. 
 It is far from suggesting real European city life, for there 
 are only a few modern buildings wedged in between old, 
 crumbling walls and many native shops. 
 
 In Jerusalem one must get used to old walls, narrow, 
 dirty streets without system or order. Those that wish 
 to stop at a hotel will find one or two near the Jaffa 
 gate, and there they will probably get little accommoda- 
 tion for much outlay. At the hospice, pilgrims find 
 abundant fare, good advice, and moderate expense. 
 Even if a pilgrim should not be able to pay, the monks 
 would probably put up with that inconvenience, and let 
 him depart in peace. Casa Nova is not far from the 
 Jaffa gate, and in the immediate neighborhood of the 
 principal object of interest — the church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre. 
 
 Adjoining the Jaffa gate the old towers of Phasael of 
 David, and of Herod abutt on the city walls. They are 
 used as Turkish barracks. In the tower of David, 
 probably containing some of the oldest remaining walls 
 of Jerusalem, is still shown the grated window T near its 
 square top, from which David is said to have cast las- 
 civious glances at Uriah's wife at her toilet in an adjoin- 
 ing house. Here he is also believed to have sorrowed 
 for his adulter} 7 with her, and to have composed many of 
 the psalms. Passing along the street that runs south- 
 east in front of these towers, we soon came upon the ex- 
 tensive Armenian convents, surrounded by large gardens. 
 Within them are the sites of Annas' and Caiphas' houses, 
 which are now replaced by Armenian chapels. The 
 same street leads up to the gate of Sion, in a lonely and 
 unfrequented part of the city. A narrow lane outside 
 
 26 
 
The Cenacle. 
 
 the walls passes by the plot of ground which the German 
 Emperor recently presented to the Catholics of Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 Some rods farther on stands the Coenaculum, where 
 Christ held the Last Supper. It is a complex of old 
 square buildings belonging to the Moslems, who, in 
 their own fashion, likewise venerate some of the holy 
 places sanctified by Christ. The hall of the Last Supper 
 is on even ground in the largest of the ruinous buildings, 
 and some of the stone seats and pillars are still shown as 
 parts of the structure at the time of Christ. The hall 
 is about fifty by thirty, entirely bare. At one end of it, 
 up a short stairway, is the entrance to a smaller room, 
 where a few dirty Moslems were squatting. Their faces 
 were turned toward a dark grating which formed one 
 side of the room. Behind the grating we could distin- 
 guish in the dark, a catafalque, or some such thing, 
 covered with a black cloth. The ragged guardian of 
 the place said that it was the tomb of David. Nobody 
 believes it but the Moslems. Tombs are about the only 
 things these Mussulmen venerate ; they manage to have 
 a great many tombs of all sorts of celebrities scattered 
 over Palestine, but most of them need as much repair, 
 and are as much neglected, as the silly Turkish tradi- 
 tions that they commemorate. 
 
 Leaving the Coenaculum we pursued our way across 
 rocky, neglected paths, and miserable patches of plowed 
 ground, along the walls of the city and down the steep 
 hill toward Siloa's pool, almost at the bottom of the valley 
 of Hinom. The Kedron here issues from the Josaphat 
 valley, and its dried-out bed adjoins this pool of Siloa. 
 This pool is formed by an embankment across the ravine 
 stowing up the water which runs through secret channels 
 from the city above. The old walls and buildings, which 
 formerly encompassed this pool, were excavated some 
 years ago by an English archaeologist, and one of the 
 
 V 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 buildings that came to light was an old Christian church. 
 But the Moslems no sooner heard of the find than they 
 claimed it as a former mosque, and they erected a small 
 minaret over the restored church. The cavernous pas- 
 sage running up behind the church seems to be an old 
 aqueduct. 
 
 On the slope of the opposite hill, which is a continu- 
 ation of Mount Olivet, is the village of Siloam, the leper 
 settlement. There the lepers of Jerusalem are quartered, 
 for they are not allowed to reside in Jerusalem. They are 
 governed by a sheik of their own, who distributes the 
 precarious alms which they obtain from the city and 
 which they beg during the day. Those that can yet 
 move about are required to go begging. Numbers of 
 them are seen lying in all stages of the dread disease on 
 the road leading up to St. Stephen's gate, holding up their 
 tin cups for alms to the passers-by. Very often I met 
 these unfortunates on the road, and their pitiful moaning 
 sounds yet in my ears. Some have purulent sores where 
 the eyes ought to be, others have their mouth or nose 
 eaten away, some hold up their horrid stumps of hands, 
 from the festering flesh of which the bare bones protrude, 
 others again show the ravages of leprosy on their exposed 
 limbs. Most abjectly they lie along the roadside in the 
 sun. 
 
 Passers-by dread giving them alms, for as soon as they 
 give to one of them, the whole crowd will begin to gather 
 around him, demanding, as of right, an equal gift. They 
 seem to have little regard for one's fear of infection, and 
 some will purposely seek contact with the clothes or hands 
 of healthy persons, probably out of a secret desire to 
 make others sharers of their disease. Some Sisters of 
 Charity make regular visits to Siloam in order to do what 
 good they can to the unfortunate sufferers. 
 
 In quite a roundabout way we clambered up the hill 
 back to a place where the small postern gate of bab el 
 
 28 
 
Jealous Fanatics. 
 
 Mukraba pierces the city wall. Inside of this gate lies 
 a large tract of waste land, covered with ruins, garbage, 
 and sickly cactus plants. To our right in front of us 
 stood some of the old temple walls on Mount Moria; 
 to our left the Jewish quarters on Mount Sion. Having 
 then reached the crumbling habitations, and the narrow, 
 intricate lanes beyond this plot of waste land, we sud- 
 denly came upon some high portals, beyond which we 
 were surprised to see a large open ground, covered with 
 grass in some parts, not unlike a neglected park. It 
 certainly is a rare sight in Jerusalem to see any kind of 
 vegetation, for one meets nothing but crumbling walls, 
 half inhabited ruins, dirty streets, and ragged inhabitants. 
 Hence we were not slow in pushing forward to enter the 
 gates of this paradise. But no sooner had we attempted 
 to set our foot inside than a shaggy Arab woman began 
 to scream at the top of her voice. The first impulse of 
 this dark fury was to rush at us, but on second thought 
 she flew with disheveled hair and murderous screams 
 into the arcades of the high walls to our right, and soon 
 brought out a bevy of fierce Arabs, whom she harangued, 
 making violent gestures towards us. We had unwittingly 
 entered the Harem es Sherif , now the holy grounds of the 
 Moslems, but formerly the ancient temple plateau of the 
 Jews. Here on the site of the old Jewish temple stands 
 the Omar mosque, which they esteem as little inferior to 
 the one in Mecca, and on the southern end of the temple 
 ground rises the mosque El Akseh, which is a vast 
 basilica built by the crusaders on the site of Solomon's 
 palaces. It would have meant nothing short of throwing 
 our lives away to attempt entrance past the gathering 
 crowd of fanatics. They eyed us with fierce, growing 
 anger, and vented it in furious inprecation. We turned 
 out of the passage, and soon came upon the Wailing Wall 
 of the Jews, which had been really our objective point, 
 and which we knew to be somewhere hereabout. It is a 
 
 29 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 lonely place, where the ancient walls rise about thirty 
 feet and overlook a waste of smaller ruins at their base. 
 
 A narrow passage has been cleared from encumbering 
 ruins for about forty feet at the base of the great wall, so 
 that one can approach the old foundation-stones, on 
 which the newer wall is reared. There they stood, 
 about twenty Jewish men and women, abjectly poor, 
 leaning their faces against the huge foundation-stones, 
 moaning and shedding tears in their loud prayers for the 
 rebuilding of the temple, and the return of long past glory. 
 It is indeed an indescribably sad sight to see the descend- 
 ants of that chosen people, who had received this land 
 from the Almighty helplessly wailing and sighing at 
 those ruined walls. Vain regrets of a stubborn race, who 
 heeded not the warnings of their God and their great 
 prophet Jesus Christ, in the time of their visitation! 
 When will they come to consider that He whose blood 
 they had called down upon their heads and upon their 
 children had overlookd this very wall from the heights 
 of yonder Mount Olivet, and had shed as bitter tears as 
 theirs at the ruins which He foresaw, and which they 
 were now bewailing? There is not any better proof of 
 the truth of the Christian religion in history than the 
 existence to this day of the God repudiating and God- 
 repudiated race, who then foreswore their Messiah and 
 now, by their wailing and vain endeavors, proclaim the 
 dire fulfillment of His prophecy. It is a consolation 
 to know that the other prophecy will also be fulfilled 
 before the end comes; namely, that the remnants of the 
 house of Israel will be gathered into the one fold of Jesus 
 Christ where they belong. So let them wail out their 
 prayers leaning on these old walls ; God will in time hear 
 them, not in the way they now expect, but according to 
 the magnitude of His mercy. 
 
 In the crevices of this wall many nails had been driven, 
 for it is their custom to bring nails and drive them into 
 
 30 
 
At the Sepulchre. 
 
 this wall in order to induce the Lord to rebuild the 
 temple. Some of them held up to us tin boxes for alms for 
 the restoration of the temple, or perhaps for themselves. 
 Leaving this place of sorrow, we were surrounded by 
 a bevy of children, in one of the narrow lanes, asking for 
 bakshish. Only rapid flight will save the stranger from 
 being swamped by crowds of these beggars, if he has 
 been incautious enough to give alms to one of them in 
 the presence of others. Towards evening, through many 
 winding streets and bazaars, we foimd our way back to 
 the Holy Sepulchre. Here good Father Joseph readily 
 accommodated us in regard to the confession, which is 
 necessary for the gaining of the indulgences of the pil- 
 grimage. Afterwards we managed to worm our way 
 into the interior of the Holy Sepulchre in spite of the 
 immense crowds. But as the time allowed each one 
 was so short as to preclude a closer inspection, I prefer 
 to describe it later on. About midnight we went again 
 to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in order to be present 
 at the midnight services. The whole vast interior was 
 gloriously illumined by the multitude of colored lamps, 
 especially around the grave. If the Franciscans, who 
 are mostly Italians, had adhered more strictly to ap- 
 proved Gregorian chant, the solemnity of the occasion 
 would have been much heightened. 
 
 We did not stay till the end of the Resurrection sendees, 
 but after an hour or so we returned through the moonlit 
 streets to the hospice. 
 
 3* 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 East and West in Jerusalem — On Mount Olivet — 
 At the German Hospice — In Cavalcade to 
 Emmaus — Nebi Samouil and Kubebe — Six 
 Centuries of Franciscan Custodianship. 
 
 I said my first Mass in the Holy Land on Easter 
 day, in the Latin chapel at the altar of the column of 
 the flagellation. Afterwards we strolled through the 
 neglected streets between the Damascus and the New 
 gate. Among the ruinous houses we found an Armenian 
 chapel dedicated to St. Cyprian. 
 
 Immediately adjoining the New gate, which is half- 
 way between the Jaffa and the Damascus gate, is the 
 newly built institute of the Christian Brothers for Boys ; 
 outside is the convent of the Sisters of Notre Dame, a 
 modern building. The porter of this convent invited us 
 to enter and look at the fine chapel; the front walls, 
 particularly in the sanctuary, are beautifully decorated 
 with Mosaics. The settlements of different nationali- 
 ties, or rather of different religious denominations, are 
 in this neighborhood west of the city walls. These 
 buildings for religious and charitable purposes are mostly 
 of recent construction. The largest settlements are those 
 of the Russians and the Catholics. The Protestant 
 deaconesses conduct a hospital, and the German Tem- 
 plars, a religious colony coming from Wuertemberg, have 
 settled here and have large establishments. To the 
 south and to the north of the city, the territory is yet free 
 of settlements, but to the northeast on the summit of 
 Mount Olivet, the Russians have erected a large monas- 
 tery and church. A separate tower, rising 200 feet above 
 
 33 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the summit of the mount, commands the whole country 
 far and wide. The Russian government, under the 
 cloak of private enterprise of their Greek monks, has 
 established its influence firmly in the whole of Palestine. 
 Yearly pilgrimages from Russia are encouraged, and 
 heavily subsidized by the government so as to familiarize 
 thousands of the simple Russian peasants with the Holy 
 Land. They return to their native country eager to see 
 Russia obtain the lion's share in any future partition of 
 Turkey by war. When once it shall become necessary, 
 Russia will find no trouble in raising a might}' army for 
 the conquest of the Holy Land. The Russian peasantry 
 will rise as one man for such a crusade. Thus Russia 
 shows herself by far the most shrewd and far-sighted 
 among the European nations in regard to future Oriental 
 spoils. 
 
 We did not proceed much farther just then, but 
 returned to the hospice in order to await the visit of Revs. 
 Blockmann and Rohde from Wisconsin, who had prom- 
 ised to make arrangements with us for to-morrow's trip 
 to Emmaus; but after waiting a few hours in vain we 
 again sallied forth, this time in an opposite direction, 
 toward St. Stephen's gate. The street running past our 
 hospice forms a direct thoroughfare northeast and south- 
 west between the Damascus and the St. Stephen's gates. 
 
 Xot far from the Austrian hospice on that road is the 
 fine chapel of the Franciscans, erected on the spot where 
 Jesus was scourged. Within the same grounds is also the 
 place of the crowning with thorns. In the chapel of the 
 flagellation several lamps burn continually. Connected 
 with these sacred spots, in a convent near by, is also the 
 novitiate of the Franciscans. Just before coming upon 
 St. Stephen's gate, one meets the church of St. Anne, 
 restored from the same stones of which the old church 
 of the Crusaders had been built. The windows are of 
 colored glass, very neatly fitted into stone frames. Under 
 
 34 
 
Mount Olivet. 
 
 the main church is the crypt, where, according to the 
 revelations of Mary of Agreda, the Virgin was conceived 
 without sin. It consists of several chambers with altars, 
 and the original bare rocks of the caves are still seen in 
 some places. The rest of the rock is veneered with 
 marble. Facing the church is the pool of Bethestha, 
 under the vaults of an ancient church. It now resem- 
 bles a spacious underground cavern half-filled with 
 water. The large buildings neighboring to the church 
 are the convent and seminary of the white Fathers, 
 founded by Cardinal Lavigerie for the African missions. 
 
 One of the white-robed Fathers just then stepped out 
 of the gate in order to give benediction of the Bl. Sacra- 
 ment at the convent of the cloistered Carmelite Nuns on 
 the summit of Mount Olivet. We gladly accepted his 
 invitation to accompany him. Our way led us through 
 St. Stephen's gate, down the hill to the ledge of rocks 
 on which St. Stephen was stoned, and from there past 
 Gethsemane up the hill. Near the summit stands the 
 convent and church of the Pater Noster. They are a 
 reconstruction of the buildings put up six hundred years 
 ago by the Crusaders. Some of the foundation-walls 
 date back even to the time of St. Helena. In fact, very 
 few of the buildings and ruins commemorating noted 
 places in Palestine are wdthout traces of former struct- 
 ures, erected at the time of St. Helena in the fourth cen- 
 tury, or at the time of the Crusades in the twelfth. Most 
 of them, however, are buried many feet beneath debris 
 and soil accumulations. We remained for benediction, 
 and afterwards bought some mementoes from the very 
 businesslike Sister that attends to the temporal affairs of 
 the cloister. The others never leave the house, nor con- 
 verse with anybody except through a thick, iron-spiked 
 screen. 
 
 Their church is on the spot where our Lord taught the 
 Our Father. Farther down the hill is another church, 
 
 35 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 which commemorates the place where the apostles com- 
 posed the creed, each one being moved by the Holy 
 Ghost to pronounce one of the articles. From these 
 heights the city of Jerusalem is seen spread out before 
 the view. In the foreground, on the opposite heights of 
 Moria, lies the temple plateau with the mosque of Omar, 
 behind these a tangled, irregular maze of low, flat-roofed 
 buildings. Most of them are ruinous, and small cupolas 
 rise like hummocks above the flat part of the roofs. 
 For in Palestine the roofs are mostly vaulted masonry, 
 without any wooden beams. From the temple enclosure 
 the old city walls zigzag around right and left to the 
 tower of David on Mount Zion, peering above the farther 
 side of the city. The circumference of the walls cannot 
 be more than three or four miles, since an hour and half 
 fully suffices for a walk around the whole city. 
 
 We returned to the hospice for supper, and afterwards 
 followed the lead of Mr. Wiltzius to the German hospice 
 outside the walls behind the Templar settlement. Some 
 fifteen or sixteen priests from the United States were 
 quartered there, being members of the German caravan 
 from Cologne, making the tour of the Holy Land. Our 
 intention was to make arrangements for accompanying 
 the caravan to Emmaus on the morrow, the day just 
 befitting such an excursion. Mr. Wiltzius, who had 
 visited them that morning, got badly mixed up in his 
 bearings. It was already dark as we passed through 
 the Damascus gate, and instead of arriving at the German 
 hospice, we came to the French consulate and to the 
 Protestant hospital in another settlement. Though the 
 deaconesses gave us very kind and explicit directions, 
 we had great trouble to find the German hospice. 
 
 The members of the caravan were at supper, and the 
 leader of it was just giving instructions regarding next 
 day's excursion. We were invited for supper, and read- 
 ily obtained their consent to make the trip to Emmaus 
 
 36 
 
TO KlJBEBE. 
 
 with them. Mr. Wiltzius, however, and two of the 
 priests had already become tired of Palestine life, and 
 arranged to take the train back to Jaffa in the morning. 
 The German hospice is an extensive building surrounded 
 by fine gardens. All the guests seemed highly pleased 
 with the accommodations. The only drawback they 
 mentioned being the distance from the church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre. The Austrian hospice, where we 
 lodged, is only ten minutes' walk from that basilica, 
 while Casa Nova, the Franciscan hospice, is in the 
 immediate vicinity. 
 
 On Easter Monday I said Mass in the church of St. 
 Anne near Stephen's gate, on the spot where the Mother 
 of God was conceived without sin. I was afraid, of 
 coming too late to start out with the caravan to Emmaus, 
 but we arrived at the German hospice long before the 
 party could be gotten ready. Most of them were not 
 out of their beds. My companion and myself happened 
 to get the sorriest nags of the cavalcade, and our saddles 
 were of the clumsiest. My beast had a tender mouth, 
 which the barbarous bridles of the Arabs had chafed 
 into a bleeding sore. Nevertheless they plodded bravely 
 on with the rest, over rolling stones and rugged ravines 
 on the worn bridle-paths. To call the way to Emmaus 
 a road, or even a decent trail, would not enter into the 
 mind of the wildest mountaineers of the United States. 
 It is nothing else than a succession of loose stones, 
 rough rocks, and rain-worn water-courses, left to the 
 wear and tear of many centuries. The same may be 
 said of the roads I traveled afterwards alone to Naplouse. 
 The horses stumbled on for an hour and half until we 
 reached the summit of a high hill, crowned by a small 
 mosque and a minaret. The Moslems call it Nebi 
 Samouil, or tomb of Samuel. Inside the bare mosque, 
 under a sort of alcove, is a wooden box covered with a 
 pall, which the Mohammedans venerate as the grave of 
 
 37 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the great prophet Samuel. The ragged, bakshish-hunt- 
 ing keeper insisted on our taking off our shoes before 
 entering; but most of the party were satisfied to look 
 in through the door. From the top of the minaret we 
 had a grand view of distant Jerusalem, Mount Olivet, 
 the plains of Jericho, and the Dead Sea to the east. 
 To the west glimmered the blue Mediterranean, and over 
 the plains of Samaria to the northwest, the woody heights 
 of Carmel intercepted the view of the seashore. 
 
 An hour's further rugged travel brought us to the 
 gates of Kubebe, or Emmaus convent. In front of them 
 stood a crowd of pilgrims who had come afoot, some 
 Franciscan Fathers, and, glibly conversing with them, our 
 eccentric fellow-passenger of the Britannia, Mr. Clark. 
 
 Beside the director of the caravan, we had a stout, 
 Christian Turk as dragoman, whose family lived near 
 the convent. He was a jolly soul, gorgeously fitted 
 out in a kawass uniform. He insisted that the whole 
 caravan should pay a visit to his wife and children. 
 Before making a closer inspection of the convents, the 
 director of the caravan also wished us to inspect the vine- 
 yards and other property bought here by the " Deutsche 
 Palestina Verein." The object of the Palestina So- 
 ciety was to start colonies here and in some other places 
 of the Holy Land. The director was full of enthusiasm, 
 and tried to make us believe that Kubebe is an ideal site 
 for a summer resort, and that the vineyards would bring 
 large returns. They have converted the stony hillside 
 into a vineyard, and planted a few fig trees; but the 
 expenses have already exceeded by far the prospective 
 gain. It certainly does not seem probable that they 
 can induce colonists to settle here for any length of time, 
 or that a summer resort will ever flourish in a rocky 
 desert, without water and without shade. The Ameri- 
 cans had but slight confidence in the success of the 
 venture in spite of the enthusiasm of the director. So 
 
 38 
 
The Franciscans. 
 
 far the Franciscans are the only settlers. They have 
 erected a spacious monastery on the foundation of an 
 older one dating back to the time of the Crusaders, using 
 it for a scholasticate for the education of their members. 
 
 Our caravan and the other pilgrims partook of a 
 dinner in the large refectory of the Monks. There must 
 have been some two hundred at the table. After dinner 
 they scattered about the gardens and under the open 
 cloisters, like a crowd of picnickers. Among them 
 was a grey-headed German, who caused no small diver- 
 sion by imitating the cries of all sorts of animals. All 
 the guests of the good Fathers seemed to enjoy themselves 
 very well. Mr. Clark, the defrocked Anglican minister, 
 was already very intimate with one of the unsuspecting 
 fathers. After resting for a while one of the Franciscans 
 conducted the visitors to the remains of the church and 
 convent built in the twelfth century. The excavations 
 showed that they were extensive. 
 
 I may as well make mention of the zeal of the Fran- 
 ciscans in preserving and restoring the holy places in 
 Palestine. Especially in the last half century has this 
 pious work made progress in numerous places of the 
 Holy Land. Only those somewhat acquainted with 
 the run of affairs in Turkish countries can have a proper 
 estimate of the difficulties to be encountered in such an 
 undertaking. The Franciscans have withstood the 
 persecution of six centuries, meeting not only the cruelty 
 and rapacity of the Moslems, but the ceaseless strata- 
 gems of orthodox Greeks or Russians, Armenians, Copts, 
 Jews, and Protestants, who pursue them with their envy 
 and, by fair means or foul, try to come into possession 
 of memorable places in charge of the Latins. The 
 rights which the above-mentioned schismatics, heretics, 
 and Turks claim in the church of the Holy Sepulchre, 
 and in many other places, have been obtained entirely 
 by intrigue and by confiscations, manipulated by in- 
 
 39 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 fluential partisans in government circles. Time and 
 again the Franciscans have purchased locations, only to 
 see them wrested from their hands as soon as they had 
 erected their buildings, or find themselves forced to pay 
 the purchase price over again as new Pashas came into 
 power. That mere envy or avarice is the cause of these 
 outrages is evident from the foul neglect and decay 
 into which many holy places are allowed to fall after 
 being wrested from the Catholics. Whereas the most 
 pious care and devotion is everywhere seen in the holy 
 places that are in the charge of the Latins, the contrary 
 is often the case with those that are in other hands. 
 
 We asked Father Joseph, at the church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre, (and he has spent there most of his life), why 
 the great rotunda over the Tomb in that church was not 
 kept in better repair. He told us that the Greek papas 
 will not permit the Franciscans to make any repairs 
 even at their own cost, and will rather let the church fall 
 into ruins than co-operate with the Latins in restoring it. 
 No doubt they are in hopes of obtaining sole proprietor- 
 ship of the Holy Sepulchre in course of time. From all 
 this it will be seen that the collections for the Holy Land, 
 taken up every year all over the world, are very necessary 
 and well applied. They enable the Franciscans and 
 other religious orders to maintain the custody of holy 
 places and reliable traditions about them. The Francis- 
 cans have certainly, in a special manner, earned the 
 title of custodians of the Holy Land by their pious zeal 
 during six centuries. Were it not for them it is doubt- 
 ful, whether any vestige would remain of most of the 
 holy places in Palestine. 
 
 Rested and well entertained, we again bestrode our 
 horses and returned cityward on a different route. After 
 climbing over a few hills, and following a trail over some 
 fields past a ruinous village, we gained the Jaffa road. 
 This is as fine a road as you would find anywhere. It 
 
 40 
 
En Cavalier. 
 
 was built for the retinue of the German Emperor, at the 
 occasion of his visit four or five years ago. The same 
 may be said also of the road to Jericho, to Bethlehem, 
 and of the one from Haipha to Nazareth. To our left, 
 as we followed the winding road to Jerusalem, we saw 
 many of the foot-passengers straggling homeward from 
 Emmaus over the hills and valleys. Long before we 
 got to Jerusalem I suspect many of us gallant cavaliers 
 were secretly wishing to exchange our chafing saddle- 
 seats for the comfort of our empty chairs in the hospice. 
 But not all of our spirit had as yet fled, for we made an 
 attempt to gallop into Jerusalem in serried ranks of three 
 abreast. However, the gallant onset ended in confusion 
 long before the end of our journey, for instead of one or 
 two blocks it was still nearly a mile to the hospice. 
 
 That evening after supper I wrote seventy-five postal 
 cards, as greetings to friends at home. 
 
 41 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Tangled Streets — Ruins and Filth Everywhere 
 — Planning a Ruse on the Bedouins — Prison- 
 ers of the Holy Sepulchre — The Holy Sacri- 
 fice at the Most Sacred Shrine on Earth. 
 
 Next day I had the privilege of reading Mass on the 
 altar of the crucifixion on Mount Calvary. After bid- 
 ding God-speed to Mr. Wiltzius, who that morning 
 started on his return to Brindisi, we strolled out the 
 Damascus gate to visit the caves or quarries of Solomon. 
 These caves honeycomb the whole northwestern portion 
 of Jerusalem. We preferred, however, to return into 
 the city, and explore the corresponding quarter above 
 ground. The streets are a puzzling tangle. A number 
 of them are paved with cobble-stones, the steeper 
 grades are terraced. A few are twelve feet wide, 
 most of the others are much narrower; only two of 
 them are wide enough to permit the passage of a wagon 
 or carriage for a short distance. Sometimes a few of 
 the more frequented streets are swept; outside streets 
 are left in dirt and filth. Bazaars are only on four 
 or five streets, principally in the neighborhood of the 
 Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The other streets pre- 
 sent a most desolate condition. No attempt at archi- 
 tectural beauty is visible, except on the new buildings of 
 Europeans, of which there are not many in old Jerusalem. 
 They do not indulge in front parlors in Jerusalem; the 
 furniture in the houses of ordinary inhabitants are on a 
 par with the outside of their habitations — a mat or two to 
 lie on, a stone fireplace from which the smoke very often 
 passes out through the vaulted ceiling or ruinous crevices. 
 
 43 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 The present Jerusalem is really only a collection of old 
 walls and enclosures, still standing over the many layers 
 of ruins piled up twenty feet above the original soil. 
 
 Bare, crumbling walls of old structures, without 
 windows, and no visible doors, mere remnants precari- 
 ously covered with a low roof, line the passages most of 
 the way. Wherever a recess in the walls or an arched 
 subway over the streets afford seclusion garbage and 
 excrement litter the ground. This is especially the case 
 where Turks or Jews inhabit. When I was told that 
 cleanliness has much improved in the last ten years, I 
 wondered how Jerusalem must have looked before that 
 time. 
 
 I had some difficulty in getting a teskere or vise for 
 my tour to Nazareth. I intended to make this tour 
 alone, and in Arab or Bedouin garb. The sun had 
 tanned my features considerably;, and I was the proud 
 owner of a stubby black beard; hence I thought that I 
 could easily pass for an Arab sheik. Everybody main- 
 tained that a single European traveler would never pass 
 the gauntlet of Bedouin nomads, as he was in danger of 
 being held up and robbed even of his clothes. Why not 
 steal a march on these marauders in their own guise ? I 
 asked. But all those to whom I mentioned my project 
 thought this latter more preposterous and dangerous than 
 the former, so that I had to keep it a secret until the 
 time of my departure. 
 
 During the day we completed our purchase of a large 
 number of articles as presents to friends in America. The 
 native dealers made, or at least pretended to make, a 
 large reduction on their price in view of doing business 
 with Mr. Wiltzius, by whom we had been introduced on 
 a former occasion. The devotional articles, especially 
 rosaries, which are manufacured here and in Bethlehem 
 in great quantities, seem cheap enough, but duty on 
 them in the United States is proportionately heavy. 
 
 44 
 
Early Mass. 
 
 In order to celebrate Mass on the tomb of the Saviour, 
 pilgrim priests must, as a rule, take lodging over night 
 with the Franciscan Fathers in the Church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre itself. All the doors of the church are locked 
 by the Turkish guard at a certain hour of the night. The 
 inmates, that is, the Latin and the Greek Monks attached 
 to the church, are then prisoners until the Church is again 
 opened in the morning. The opening of the Church of 
 the Holy Sepulchre costs ten francs every time, and this 
 sum is to be paid to a Turkish family by the different 
 religious denominations, who request the opening of the 
 church. It is easily understood, that on this account 
 the Franciscans are most heavily bled, for the Latin 
 pilgrims, who are the most numerous, must be oftenest 
 accommodated. The Latin Monks have exclusive right 
 of services every day until seven o'clock, after that the 
 Greeks have their turn. But the Turkish soldiers will 
 not admit even a priest before eight o'clock, the time set 
 for opening the church. Hence the only alternative for 
 a Catholic priest, who wishes to celebrate on the tomb of 
 the Saviour, is to have himself locked up with the Fran- 
 ciscans over night. 
 
 We partook of the frugal supper, and were conducted 
 to the cells upstairs. Father Joseph entertained us 
 with a pleasant chat until we went to sleep, happy pris- 
 oners of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 Early in the morning of the next day I had the hap- 
 piness of celebrating Mass on the holiest and most re- 
 markable spot on earth ; for which all thanks be to Him 
 who rested there in death, and who rose gloriously trium- 
 phant from this tomb. My companion entered with 
 me into the low vault to serve my Mass, but the Francis- 
 can Brother, seeing him rather unfamiliar with his duty 
 as an acolyte, unceremoniously supplanted him at the 
 offertory. Several women received holy communion at 
 my hands through the low entrance of the Tomb. It 
 
 45 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 was indeed a great privilege to offer up the great sacrifice 
 on the very spot where the faith and hope of all Christ- 
 endom was made certain. 
 
 Practical Hints. In Jerusalem it is better to lodge in one 
 of the hospices. The most convenient for those that wish to see 
 something of Catholic services is the Casa Nova of the Franciscan 
 or the Austrian hospice. The Brothers will also be of great 
 assistance in procuring good guides, and in preventing exorbitant 
 charges. The fare in these hospices is all that can be desired, and 
 the remuneration asked is very moderate. Those that wish to see 
 the holy places thoroughly should make a sort of outline or plan 
 suited to the time of their stay, and to the amount of exertion they 
 intend to undergo. Of course every one likes to take along some 
 mementoes and relics of the Holy Land. For Catholics there is 
 a vast assortment of rosaries, medals, crucifixes; these, blessed 
 at the Holy Sepulchre and Bethlehem, will afterwards no doubt 
 serve as the most valuable mementoes for their friends and them- 
 selves. The real value of such mementoes is often not realized 
 until one is thousands of miles from the place where they were 
 perhaps hastily obtained in the excitement of sight-seeing. But 
 at home they will bring back the memory of strange surroundings 
 and incidents of the time and place of their purchase. 
 
 46 
 

 IN ARAB COSTUME 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 In Bedouin Garb — A Bivouac on Judean Hills — 
 Roughing It — Causing a Scare — Beitin, Once 
 Bethel — Panic in a Harem — Luxuries of an 
 Arab Home. 
 
 After securing a teskere through the aid of the Amer- 
 ican consul, and procuring a Bedouin outfit through the 
 help of Ali, our kawass of the hospice, I made prepara- 
 tions to leave alone and on foot for Nazareth. As I did 
 not want to listen to any more discussion, the Arab 
 clothes were smuggled into the porter's room by the help 
 of Ali, and after dinner I arrayed myself as a Bedouin 
 sheik for the journey. The under-garment is a long, 
 sleeveless cotton shirt, reaching nearly to the heels. Over 
 this is thrown an upper garment of striped material, and 
 somewhat like a cassock, the two front flaps of which are 
 buttoned only at the neck, and are held together in the 
 middle by a sash. Over all this is thrown the haik, a 
 loose mantle, with openings in the sides for the arms. 
 The head covering is a tarbush, consisting of a large 
 square kerchief with fringed edges. It is thrown over 
 the head and fastened by a rope of camel's hair; this 
 hair rope passes twice around the forehead and ends in 
 long tassels behind. 
 
 As I was much sunburnt and had a black stubby 
 beard, I could easily pass for a Bedouin sheik, so far as 
 outward appearance was concerned. But the number of 
 Arab words that I gloried in was closely allied to the 
 minus. Ali did his best to enrich me. " Three words 
 are sufficient," he said: " Salaam, aleikum, mafish." In 
 other words; if I met any of the marauding nomads, and 
 
 47 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 felt like being beforehand in civility, I might say: 
 " salaam "; or, if they first salaamed, I might answer: 
 "aleikum." But if any of that scum of the desert 
 should seek to enter into conversation with such a high- 
 born chief as myself, they should be told to go about 
 their business with a surly: "mafish." I found after- 
 wards, that this three-cornered vocabulary, with its ex- 
 pressive bluff at the end, went far toward establishing 
 tolerable relations between Arabia and America. 
 
 I started out early in the afternoon, intending to reach 
 Ramallah about twelve miles to the north of Jerusalem. 
 My traveling companion wanted to see me off safely for 
 a few miles at least. But as we left Jerusalem from 
 St. Stephen's gate, which is on the east side of the city, 
 we at first pursued the wrong direction. It entailed an 
 unnecessary climb of Mt. Scopus on the northeast of 
 Jerusalem. After an hour and a half of climbing we 
 found the right trail. Near a ruined village, whence the 
 last view of Jerusalem could be had, my companion 
 bade me God-speed, and I was launched alone on my 
 ten day's trip. 
 
 Soon the difficulties of the journey became evident. 
 I had taken along light shoes with thin soles. The 
 northward trail w T as in some places a remnant of a road 
 built by the Romans, which probably had not been re- 
 paired since their time. The large and small boulders 
 had stood the wear and weather o: two thousand years, 
 and are now but loose heaps of stone. At other places 
 the road was a mere trail full of holes and rugged edges. 
 My shoes gave way in several places in a few hy _rs ; the 
 thin soles were no protection against the rolling rocks and 
 sharp projections. 
 
 I had left my partner not far from ancient Gibeon, the 
 ruins of which are still traceable on the crest of a hill. 
 Josua, w T hen he came to exterminate all the inhabitants 
 of Canaan, was neatly circumvented by the Gibeonites. 
 
 48 
 
GlBEON. 
 
 They sent an embassy, decked out in old clothes, on 
 jaded and worn beasts, in order to make him believe they 
 had come from a great distance outside the limits of the 
 doomed country. Yet they were only twenty miles 
 from Jericho, where Josua was encamped. They began 
 to flatter him with the great things they had heard of the 
 Israelites, thereby securing a treaty, which Josua con- 
 firmed with an oath. When the Israelites a short time 
 afterwards found that these people were living right in 
 the midst of the promised land, they did not dare to 
 destroy them on account of the oath. So the race of 
 Gibeonites was allowed to live as slaves ever afterwards, 
 to be employed as menials at the temple. 
 
 Past Gibeon, a sloping plain stretched away to some 
 rugged hills in the distance. The lingering sun's rays 
 still rested on their rocky crests. Behind them I had been 
 told to look for Ramallah. In the valley I met a few 
 shepherds and wandering Arabs, who surveyed me with 
 inquisitive looks. The shades of evening were lengthen- 
 ing over the slopes. On the hillsides roughly-clad shep- 
 herds were gently urging their flocks homeward, and 
 from a great distance the cheery voices of children 
 resounded. I traversed the plain and climbed around 
 rocky bluffs, and yet no Ramallah hove in sight. Dark- 
 ness overtook me still groping over the loose rocks of the 
 indistinct trail, but the faint barking of dogs drew me 
 on to continue my search in the nightly gloom. There 
 are no habitations of any kind in Palestine outside the 
 villages. A farmhouse is altogether unknown. After 
 wearily stumbling onward for a half an hour or more, 
 the barking sounded fainter than before. I began to 
 familiarize myself with the prospect of sleeping on the 
 rugged hillside, just as ages ago the patriarch Jacob had 
 done not far from this very neighborhood. 
 
 The trail having soon become undiscernible, I sought 
 for some sheltering hollow in rocks for protection against 
 
 49 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the chill wind that blew across the hilltops, and, wrapping 
 myself in the wide haik, laid down near the roadside to 
 sleep. But the wind became still more chilly, and forced 
 me to seek the lee side of a stony ledge on the other side 
 of the trail. It was a mighty hard bed, but I was tired 
 and I sank into a fitful doze as the moon began to rise 
 over the hills. Not a soul had I met on the way since 
 sunset, and the region seemed altogether deserted. The 
 voices of the night in other countries, such as the chirping 
 of crickets, the tremulous notes of the frogs, which softly 
 lull to sleep on the prairies or in the woods of America, 
 are not heard in these hills of Judea. The soundless 
 night broods as if in speechless sorrow over the stony 
 regions that repudiated the Savior. 
 
 The moon had climbed high up the starry vault, when 
 suddenly I was awakened by the sound of many voices 
 coming over the hill behind me. Peering over the top of 
 the stone ledge, I saw about twenty of the natives, or 
 Arabs, rapidly coming down the stony trail, which 
 gleamed in the bright moonlight, within a few paces of 
 where I lay. Naturally the appearance of a band of 
 Bedouins so late at night, and in a region which I 
 thought uninhabited, gave rise to some uneasiness. At 
 any rate they would wonder much to find a lonely 
 wanderer out on the hills, and their curiosity would 
 be annoying. I therefore crouched in the shade of the 
 rocks, covering myself with the black haik. They 
 would probably pass by without seeing me, unless 
 they had a dog with them. Laughing and chattering 
 they stumbled past, so close to me that the shadow of 
 some of them, and of an ass which they were driving, fell 
 upon the white rocks near me. None of them noticed 
 me, and they disappeared down in the valley around 
 another hill. When their voices had become inaudible 
 I arose and sought for a more quiet resting-place some 
 rods inward from the road, for they would surely see me 
 
 5o 
 
Bivouacking. 
 
 in my old place, if they should happen to come back 
 the same way. I was not wrong in my conjecture about 
 their return ; in half an hour I heard their voices again 
 approaching. All of them, however, dragged up the 
 rocky trail, unsuspicious of the presence of their white 
 brother bivouacking on the hillside. 
 
 I was not further disturbed that night, though I 
 could get only fitful dozes of sleep, while the half disk of 
 the moonlight slowly ran its course across the heavens. 
 The edges of the rocks on which I lay would not accom- 
 modate themselves to my aching limbs. This bivouck- 
 ing under the sky was very pleasant — that is, to read 
 about, or to muse about afterwards. But sometimes 
 doubts will insinuate themselves while one revels in the 
 reality. However, it might have been worse, and I was 
 somewhat surprised at last when I woke up and saw 
 that dawn had encroached upon the moonlight. Na- 
 tives were now coming down over the hill in groups, 
 driving some asses. After they had passed on to the 
 valley I got up to make my toilet. It consisted merely 
 in leisurely arranging my sash and my haik, and read- 
 justing the tarbush. While I was thus engaged a soli- 
 tary camel-driver was slowly urging his beast over the 
 hilltop ; coming nearer, and raising his eyes toward me, 
 he stood like one petrified. A black figure, half seen 
 over the projecting rocks, and so deliberately fumbling 
 around his waist, must have seemed to him very sus- 
 picious. No doubt he thought I was but a leader of a gang 
 of Bedouins, concealed behind the rocks, ready to rob 
 him of his only possession. When now I with equal 
 deliberation moved up toward the road, I saw him ner- 
 vously clutching his club tighter and in a frightened tone, 
 asking a question. Not knowing how many might be 
 in his wake, I passed him on the trail, with a surly "ma- 
 fish." This was somewhat of a superflous admoni- 
 tion, for he seemed only too glad to " go about his busi- 
 
 5i 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 ness." Curious to find out whence the barking of the 
 dogs last evening had proceeded, I pursued the trail and 
 found a ruinous gathering of old walls on the top of a 
 hill only one and a half mile farther on. But the roads 
 were so rugged that I was not sorry for having biv- 
 ouacked under the sky. Moreover, I found that it was 
 not Ramallah, but the remains of some ancient walls, 
 inhabited by a few furtive Arabs. They now glared 
 at me in no friendly manner, out of their dark holes. 
 
 I hastened on in the probable direction of Beitin, or 
 ancient Bethel. Even so early in the day my feet began 
 to pain and swell from the roughness of the road, and 
 every step soon became a torture. I began to realize 
 what fatigue and labor Jesus Christ must have under- 
 gone in his continual wanderings, very often barefooted, 
 as tradition tells, up and down the land of Israel. I do 
 not suppose that these roads were any better in his time. 
 No wonder he sat weary at Jacob's Well. The trail led 
 gradually down into a valley, where there seemed to be 
 better soil. A spring irrigated it, and two or three plow- 
 men were scratching the ground, urging on their beasts 
 of draft with continual calls. Suddenly I heard the 
 clatter of horses' hoofs on the stony trail behind me. 
 A European came down the hill, preceded by a soldier 
 in dirty uniform and a mule-driver ; the three of them 
 were armed to the teeth, and w T ere dragging along a mule 
 laden with goods. Muffled in my haik I stood at the 
 roadside to watch their passing. They eyed me suspi- 
 ciously from afar, prodded their beast into a furious 
 gallop past my standpoint into the rocky ravine ahead, 
 and disappeared behind the cliffs in the valley below. 
 Why should they be afraid of a single man on their road, 
 and he only a counterfeit sheik? 
 
 My only breakfast was a not very cool drink from 
 the perturbed w T ater of a spring below. By this time I 
 had slowly reached the rocky wilderness of the next hill. 
 
 52 
 
At the Khan. 
 
 I looked anxiously for Beitin. In vain, however. Only 
 after two hours more of weary climbing I reached the 
 scanty fig orchards on its outskirts. 
 
 But when I came to its ruinous walls, scattered with- 
 out any order about the crest of the hill, and saw the dung 
 piles around them, the garbage and offal littering the pas- 
 sages, my hopes of refreshment and rest began to wane. 
 Nobody was to be seen, no sound issued from the crumb- 
 ling holes in the walls that served as doors, only a pene- 
 trating stench of burning dung filled the air. In vain did 
 I look for a bazaar, or for a likely place to get something 
 to eat. At length I met an old man, who was carrying 
 a child on his arm. After repeating to him the word 
 "khan, khan," with many an expressive gesture toward 
 my mouth, he pointed to a ruin near by. I found that 
 it was a cavernous vault, seemingly the foundations of 
 a ruined building. The whole front of the vault was 
 open, and the inside was entirely bare except a few stones 
 in the dim background to serve as a fireplace. Four or 
 five dusky Arabs were lying or sitting on the bare ground. 
 One of them, tall and gaunt, more bandit-like than the 
 rest, came from the rear, and understanding from my 
 signs that I wanted something to eat, he, in equally ex- 
 pressive signs, requested "bakshish." It looked highly 
 problematical whether he had any food to give. There 
 was none in sight, and he seemed to be very hungry him- 
 self. So I was not particularly forward in obliging him 
 with any of my loose change. The other inmates jumped 
 up from their mats and surrounded me. My haik was 
 a new one with thin red stripes along the seams ; it took 
 their fancy by storm. All seized hold of it, and began 
 to examine it with greedy eyes. With the air of a sheik 
 of thousand lances, I wrenched it from their grasp, 
 almost tearing it, and turned away with an angry " ma- 
 fish." That word seemed to have the same effect with 
 those people as the sight of an American man of war 
 
 53 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 in the harbor of some Turkish port. Ali had given me 
 the most useful and the most necessary word in the whole 
 Arabic language. They did not follow me as I turned 
 another passage between the ruins. 
 
 There I met the old man with the child again, and 
 made more signs for something to eat. This time I en- 
 forced them by showing a ruba-medjid, or a quarter of a 
 medjid. It is a silver piece of the size of our quarter. 
 He led me to a hole in the wall. It was the entrance to 
 a small courtyard, surrounded on the other three sides 
 by the ruinous walls of low huts. These had no windows, 
 only three or four dark apertures. The yard was strewn 
 with big boulders, which could be used as stepping-stones 
 over the reeking dung and mud. Some pigs and goats 
 groped around, three or four women and some children, 
 only half dressed, stared at me in the hot sunshine. One 
 of them was seated on one of the stones kneading a mass 
 of dough on a flat piece of board on the ground. The 
 dough looked almost as black as herself, for every now 
 and then as she turned it, an end of it flopped into the 
 dirt of the yard. 
 
 Another woman sat swinging a goatskin full of milk, 
 suspended from a peg in the wall. As she pushed it 
 from her, a drop or two of the milk would gurgle out of 
 legs of the goatskin. In a corner a mother sat, nursing 
 an infant at her bare breast. The fourth one came 
 close up to me to satisfy her curiosity about my new haik 
 and striped undergarment. All the while the old man 
 stood by scowling at the women, who probably were his 
 daughters-in-law. How could they thus allow a stranger 
 to look on their unprotected faces ? These were prob- 
 ably his thoughts. But he need not have worried. Their 
 beauty was more witch-like than bewitching. Desper- 
 ately I held out the silver coin and pointed to my open 
 mouth. 
 
 But to my signs and motions they answered only by 
 
 54 
 
Panic in a Harem. 
 
 loud laughter and chatter among themselves. A boy 
 of fourteen, dressed only in a dirty shirt, entered fully 
 into the fun of the situation, laughing and talking with 
 them and stretching out his hands for my ruba. When 
 I thought they had comprehended my meaning, I gave 
 him the quarter. He and one of the women rushed with 
 it into one of the holes, and I thought the problem of 
 providing for an empty stomach was to be speedily 
 solved. But they soon returned empty-handed, and, it 
 seemed, for new frolic. I grabbed the youngster by the 
 neck and threateningly raised my cane. Tableau: 
 Shrieks from the whole chorus, the boy tearing away, 
 running into the hut, and bringing back the coin. I 
 had accidentally heard the word fig in Arabic and kept 
 repeating it, while again offering the coin. Finally one 
 of the women climbed over the top of a wall and brought a 
 wooden dish full of figs, while the boy had fetched some- 
 thing like pancakes. The dirt on the figs immediately 
 suggested the handling they had undergone in the un- 
 washed fingers of these women, while the pancakes were 
 undoubtedly baked from the same kind of dough that 
 one of these women had kneaded on the filthy courtyard 
 ground. 
 
 As he saw me hesitate, the boy eagerly tried to con- 
 vince me of its being eatable, and began to tug at the 
 rubber-like black mass, gulping it down in great chunks. 
 I left him to enjoy his banquet and began to fill my sash 
 with handfuls of the figs. But though they would 
 probably have gladly sold the whole outfit for a few 
 paras, the boy tried to stop me from taking more than 
 two handfuls for the ruba-medjid. Several times during 
 these transactions the old man had already interfered and 
 waved back the old hags; but now, since the coin was 
 secured, he gave me to understand that I must depart 
 immediately. He probably thought that the harem of 
 his absent son or son-in-law was sufficiently demoralized, 
 
 55 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 and that the line must be drawn somewhere. That old 
 Moslem probably will never know with what a relieved 
 and lightened heart the counterfeit sheik issued from the 
 stench and filth of his son's harem. As I pursued my 
 way through the reeking and filthy ruins of Beitin, it was 
 hard to realize that this was ancient Bethel, the place 
 where the angel had descended on a ladder from heaven 
 to our sleeping forefather Jacob, and where he had set 
 up the anointed stone to commemorate the great prom- 
 ises he there had received from the Lord. 
 
 56 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In the "Valley of the Robbers" — Shadowed — 
 Suspicious Company — My Own Jailer — A Sleep- 
 less Night. 
 
 I slowly pursued my way down the hill, eating of the 
 dried figs. The road did not improve but rather got 
 worse, and the hill was very steep. About a mile down 
 the valley I came to a cistern. While sitting there a 
 group of Arabs gathered around it, eyeing me curiously 
 and seeking to enter into a conversation. Two or three 
 of them were armed with long brass-bound carbines. 
 A few girls also came to draw water in their earthen jugs, 
 which they placed on their heads and carried all the way 
 up the rugged path to Beitin. Two of the men were 
 mule-drivers, and one of them was armed with a gun. 
 As I wanted to drink, I had to ask for their jug, and so 
 revealed my inability to speak Arabic. This seemed to 
 make them more bold, and I thought it best to move on 
 after I had satisfied my thirst at the brackish cistern. 
 But I soon noticed that they were following at a distance, 
 dodging my footsteps up and down the rugged hills, 
 past olive patches on the hillsides and the ruins of a 
 village farther on. There they apparently joined a long 
 pack-train of mules which was wending its crooked way 
 through the ravine. 
 
 The valley does justice to its name, at least in outward 
 appearance, for it is a long defile between two rocky 
 declivities. By this time the soles of my shoes had be- 
 come completely worn through by the rocks, and I could 
 not move a step without the greatest pain. My feet were 
 painfully swollen. Nevertheless I pushed forward, down 
 
 57 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the valley to a place where I found water trickling from 
 the rocks. It goes by the name of Robbers' Fountain. 
 Glad to be free from the suspicious company, I slaked 
 my thirst and stretched out on the soft grass for a rest. 
 But I was soon disturbed. At some distance in the rear 
 I again saw the armed muleteer slowly jogging along 
 the trail, and not far behind him his partner with two 
 jackasses. In the dried-out bed of a torrent below 
 now and then bobbed up the head of another man whom 
 I had not seen before. Any sign of suspicion at such 
 extraordinary movements would have been a great en- 
 couragement to any evil designs they might have. There- 
 fore I pretended to take the utmost ease, and simply 
 watched the man with the gun as he passed reluctantly 
 by. He probably did not know what to make of the 
 unperturbed gaze with which I eyed him as he passed, 
 and if the trio had any plans they must have been discon- 
 certed. A few rods onward he threw himself under a 
 tree, allowing the driver and his ragged partner in the 
 ravine to come up with him. There they lay, seemingly 
 resting by the roadside. I rose after a little while and 
 slowly proceeded on my way, too footsore to go even at 
 an ordinary pace. They allowed me to pass, but soon 
 afterwards came up. 
 
 I saw that I could not avoid some kind of intercourse, 
 and therefore determined to be beforehand. I wanted 
 to reach Naplouse, or Sichem, but had no knowledge of 
 its whereabouts or its distance. My feet would hardly 
 carry me a mile farther What if I could get the use of 
 one of their beasts ? Even if their intentions were evil, 
 I would be better off with one of their asses in my posses- 
 sion. I resolved to get possession of a mule and ward 
 off treachery later. I gave them to understand that I 
 would pay a ruba-medjid, not wishing to let them per- 
 ceive how anxious I was to procure a beast at any price. 
 The shining quarter immediately took their eye; a 
 
 $8 
 
Shadowed, 
 
 second one, drawn from my haik, secured the larger of 
 the two asses. What a luxury! To be carried along on 
 the back of that beast, while my aching feet dangled 
 down at leisure, untouched by the rough ground. I re- 
 solved to make use of that animal and its drivers as long 
 as possible, whether they were bandits or not. Soon 
 the trio held a conference, whereupon one of them began 
 to urge my mule briskly forward, slashing it across the 
 ears, poking it from behind, and accompanying his cuff 
 with such unceasing sounds as hm, brr, rr, ghee, ss. 
 The man with the gun and his ragged partner with the 
 other mule were soon left behind. At frequent intervals 
 my driver made signs and motions for additional bak- 
 shish. This happened especially when we had to over- 
 come bad stretches of the road, so that in the course of 
 an hour I had already raised the quarter medjid to a 
 whole one. I insisted, however, on not paying him until 
 the end of the journey. 
 
 After leaving the Valley of the Robbers, we passed 
 the trail leading to Siloe, where Heli and Samuel guarded 
 the Sanctuary of Israel before the temple was built in 
 Jerusalem. Soon we came to a rugged hill over which 
 the ass could not carry me. To walk even these short 
 distances was a torture, and I realized that these Arabs, 
 whatever was their ultimate intention, were a godsend to 
 me at present. From the top of the hill I surveyed a 
 wide valley, bounded by the mountain of Gilboa. Long 
 before I could drag myself across the declivity my driver 
 had arrived on the other side with the beast, and stood 
 talking to the keeper of Louban khan. The khan was 
 but a thatched roof, resting on two ruined walls. The 
 sinister keeper invited me to stay, but the bare ground 
 and few straw mats were no temptation, and I preferred 
 the ass's back to the suspicious hospitality of the swarthy 
 host. So we pushed on across the plain, seemingly to 
 a large town at the foot of the Gilboa Mountains in the 
 
 59 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 distance. The evening sun lay spread over the land- 
 scape, and intervening clouds now and then sent vast 
 shadow-patches over the green valley and distant moun- 
 tain slopes. 
 
 Not far away in the valley our trail divided into two 
 branches ; one to the left to a large town at the foot of a 
 mountain, the other to the right toward rugged hill coun- 
 try. My driver suddenly stopped and peremptorily de- 
 manded a medjid. I gave him to understand that he 
 would get it as soon as we would come to Naplouse. As 
 he would not acquiesce, and as I would not willingly have 
 relinquished my seat for ten medjid, I gave him a half 
 medjid. Even this was a mistake, for now he began to 
 protest, as I thought, that Naplouse was too far away and 
 he would bring me to a better lodging for the night. I 
 was half amused at his protests ; he was certainly unwill- 
 ing to go as far as Naplouse, therefore he drove the ass 
 into the side trail to the right. It led to the foot of a con- 
 siderable hill, to the top of which he kept pointing. As 
 we reached its base we met several Bedouins with their 
 long shafted and brass-bound carbines sitting or standing 
 in the ravines on both sides of the path. My driver ex- 
 changed a few words with them, but my desire for rest 
 and refreshment now was stronger than all suspicions. 
 Besides it was time enough to look for the defense when 
 there was any sign of attack. 
 
 The sun was sinking, and its last rays were falling on 
 a cluster of ruinous walls crowning the heights before 
 us. To ride up the rugged trail was out of question, and 
 this last half hour of climbing was probably the most 
 painful half mile I ever traveled. My feet were fearfully 
 swollen and bruised by two days' travel on the rugged 
 trails. Up the hills and through the stench of burning 
 excrements, which are used for precarious fuel in these 
 countries, he led me to an enclosure surrounded by ruined 
 walls. A few ugly old women, some dirty children, a 
 
 60 
 
My Own Jailer. 
 
 starving dog, several goats and sheep, and even a cow 
 were stumbling over the boulders that projected like 
 islands out of the mud and manure of the small yard. 
 
 But I cared not for all that. I sat down on one of the 
 stones near the entrance and began to take off what was 
 left of my footwear, demanding fresh water with the air 
 of a pasha. I suspected that pouring water over my 
 burning feet was probably the greatest luxury I would 
 ever obtain in such a place as this. I was not mistaken. 
 While I sat cooling my feet with the water which the 
 women brought to me in a tin can, my mule-driver stood 
 conferring with one of the old women. My pantomimes 
 to procure something to eat seemed to make no impres- 
 sion. But he beckoned me to a low door in the old wall, 
 leading into what appeared to be the vault of an old ruin 
 with an arched roof. A round hole in the rear wall was 
 the only window. On the bare ground in the middle was 
 spread a mat, around it I saw all kinds of rubbish and 
 implements littering the corners. My host pointed to 
 the mat, and I understood that it would be my couch for 
 the night. 
 
 I began to long for the stony resting-place of last night, 
 but I was too tired to think much of looking for one on 
 the outskirts of the mountain just now; besides I was 
 still in a faint hope of getting something to eat. So I at 
 once lay down on the mat with a bag of some kind of 
 grain for a pillow. After a while in came the Arab with 
 a roll of the pancake, such as I had seen at noontime in 
 Beitin, a can of water, a small tin cup with ill-smelling 
 salve, and a hard-boiled egg. Stretching himself out at 
 my side in full length, he gave me the egg and offered 
 me some of the black tough pancake. Seeing that I hesi- 
 tated to eat, he wrenched off big pieces from the rubbery 
 substance, and dipping it into the dirty salve began to 
 chew away at it with immense gusto. In order not to 
 despise his hospitality altogether, I yielded to his urgent 
 
 61 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 invitations. But the dirt and the toughness of the bread, 
 and the smell of the grease prevented me from swallow- 
 ing any of it. I contented myself with the single egg 
 and the stale water. Having finished this repulsive 
 meal, I tried to make my swarthy host understand that I 
 must have a light of some kind. Whereupon he returned 
 with a tiny kerosene torch lamp, which could contain only 
 two or three thimblefuls of oil. My suspicions were 
 aroused again when I saw standing in the doorway be 
 hind him his afternoon companion, fumbling with his 
 brass-bound carbine, and grinning over the shoulders of 
 the ass-driver. When they were about to leave I saw 
 them produce a ponderous key and insert it into the plank 
 door on its outside. Did they intend to lock me in this 
 hole over night ? In spite of my weariness I jumped up 
 before they could draw the rickety door toward them 
 and turn the rusty bolts. With an angry "mafish" I 
 hurled the ass-driver out of the doorway against his mate, 
 and wrenched the key from the lock. In strong English 
 I told them that " if there was any locking to be done, 
 I was the one to do it, and from the inside." They 
 seemed to be paralyzed by the proceeding. But that 
 made no difference to me, angry as I was. I slammed 
 the door before their faces and locked it from the inside, 
 storing away the ponderous key under my pillow. I 
 could at least keep undesirable company out, even if 
 their intention was to detain me as desirable company 
 within. I heard them rummaging around and talking in 
 a low voice for a while on the outside, while I made pre- 
 paration to sleep and leave the rest to Providence. En- 
 trapped or not, I was too tired to think of much more 
 than rest and sleep. 
 
 But in spite of my fatigue I scarcely obtained a half 
 hour of sleep during the night. Outside was the bustle 
 of men and beasts retiring to rest. Inside was the stuffy 
 air, the hard couch, and a bloodthirsty host of mosqui- 
 
 62 
 
A Night of Horror. 
 
 toes beginning their wrathful music around my ears. 
 The haik, thrown over my head, was no protection 
 against them, for they managed to find an opening no 
 matter how I adjusted it. As the noise on the outside 
 gradually subsided, the music of the ravenous insects 
 became so much the louder, and, in unison with it, a mys- 
 terious crackling noise sounded from some dark corner 
 behind me, as if someone were slowly breaking through 
 the walls. From another quarter a stealthy cackling, as 
 if from a disturbed chicken-roost, joined in the hideous 
 concert. 
 
 It had been too dark when I entered this chamber of 
 horrors to see anything except the mat and the imme- 
 diate surroundings. I lighted the small torch and groped 
 around to examine the lair. It was a cavern about nine 
 feet square vaulted over by solid masonry. Brushwood 
 lay heaped up in one corner, an old plow in another, bags 
 filled with grain of some kind stood at the head of my 
 resting-place, broken implements near the door. From 
 the rough vault hung down long strings of dusty cobwebs, 
 and the moonlight gleamed through the chinks of the 
 plank door. I could find nothing to explain the noises, 
 for they had ceased as soon as I lighted the lamp. One 
 of them was satisfactorily explained soon after I extin- 
 guished the light; a rat ran over my legs, and being 
 satisfied of that at least, I began grimly to enjoy fitful 
 dozes of sleep. The mosquitoes had a high time of it 
 that night, as far as I could judge from their satanic 
 music. On account of the unbearable closeness and 
 stench of the air I could not keep the haik over my face 
 for more than a few minutes. I wondered afterwards 
 why the thought of leaving the cavernous quarters never 
 came to me. It must have been on account of the ex- 
 treme fatigue. 
 
 The dawn at length began to glimmer through the 
 joints of the door, and I heard the noise of awakening men 
 
 63 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 and animals. The suspicious behavior of my hosts yes- 
 terday was still fresh in my mind, and I somewhat appre- 
 hended trouble at my departure. However I soon found 
 that if they had meditated any treachery, they must have 
 changed their minds, for when I unbolted the door I 
 found no obstacle, and an old woman standing in the 
 yard readily showed me the way out to the hillside, where 
 my ass-driver and a dozen of other Arabs were sitting 
 on the detached rocks, or standing on the scanty grass. 
 I bargained for an ass to ride to Naplouse and for a pair 
 of their shoes. As for breakfast, they looked hungry 
 enough themselves to cause doubt whether they had any 
 to spare. My ass-driver of yesterday grinningly sold me 
 his shoes. They were merely thick soles of raw cowhide, 
 ending in a peak over the toes. The top was thin red 
 leather latched with heavy leather strips. He took what 
 was left of my old shoes away with him, and came back 
 leading the mule I had bargained for. We were soon on 
 the way, and out of sheer hunger I found myself munch- 
 ing some of the dirty pancake of which he was making 
 his breakfast. No wonder: I had not had anything to 
 eat for almost two days, except a few figs and the hard- 
 boiled egg last night. 
 
 64 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 At Jacob's Well — Fanatical Naplouse — Gal- 
 loping over Morasses — Daoud's Anxiety — 
 Welcome Hospitality — On the Plains of 
 Esdrelon. 
 
 The sun was just rising over the eastern hills, casting 
 long shadows into the wide valley of Sichem, to which we 
 were now descending. We traversed it in about two 
 hours, and came to the foot of Mount Garizim, where the 
 ruins of Jacob's Well still stand within an enclosure. My 
 driver had continually asked for increased and immediate 
 pay during the whole time, but I was firm and told him 
 he would get it in Naplouse. Sulkily he waited on the 
 road while I went to see the old well of Jacob. An old 
 man unlocked the gate of the enclosure, and conducted 
 me to the ruins of a church built over the well by the cru- 
 saders. Under a vault of these ruins is the opening of 
 the well. Its top is lined with stones that looked old and 
 worn enough to have been in use at the time of Jacob. 
 Grooves several inches deep were worn into them by the 
 ropes with which the water was drawn. The old man let 
 down a triple candle light into the circular shaft, which 
 illumined the sides and the bottom of the well a hundred 
 feet below. Its springs were now dried up. Here Jesus 
 sat, tired and hungry, burning with the desire of bringing 
 erring men back to his truth. Here his divine affability 
 converted the Samaritan woman and the inhabitants of 
 the neighboring city. 
 
 We resumed our way along the foot of Mount Garizim 
 and soon entered the narrow vallev between it and Mount 
 Hebal to the left. Naplouse, the ancient Sichem, lies 
 
 65 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 crouched between these two mountains. On Garizim 
 the Samaritans had their temple, and the inhabitants of 
 Naplouse still resort to its summit as a holy place. To 
 the right, at the foot of Hebal, is the tomb of Joseph. 
 Both it and the well are in the hands of the Greeks or 
 Russians. We passed many barracks and many Turk- 
 ish soldiers, for Naplouse is quite a town. The Moslems 
 here are very fanatical, and often molest Christians 
 passing through. None of the guards however troubled 
 me, for I was for the time a free and roving Bedouin. 
 Nor was I molested in any way in the streets of Naplouse. 
 My ass-driver got several additions to his pay by dint of 
 continual demands. After some fruitless inquiry about 
 the Latin church I found a shop-keeper who spoke 
 Italian, and sent a boy to show us the way. There the 
 ass-driver left me to my fate. He probably had more 
 ready cash in his hands than he ever expected to get, 
 and no doubt had a good time on that day. There are 
 only a few Latin Christians in Naplouse. They have a 
 chapel attended by an Italian priest. The servant 
 received me at once without distrust into the house, but 
 I had some difficulties in making the padre believe that I 
 was a Catholic priest. I always found Italians some- 
 what suspicious in that regard. They often asked me 
 why I did not wear a cassock while traveling. A very 
 practical idea, I must say, to go around the world in a 
 cassock! But they stick to forms. Of course we must 
 excuse the good Father in Naplouse ; others besides he 
 would have hesitated to believe that a priest was hidden 
 under my Bedouin outfit. But I soon managed to over- 
 come his distrust, and then he treated me quite 
 hospitably. 
 
 I was completely worn out. Somewhat fearing an 
 attack of fever, I took a dose of quinine and went to bed. 
 In the meanwhile my host promised to procure a horse 
 and a moukar for my journey to Nazareth. When he 
 
 66 
 
With Daoud. 
 
 called me to partake of some dinner there was a country- 
 man of his at the table with him, and we managed with 
 some difficulty to make ourselves understood. Gladly 
 paying for his services, I bade good-by to the Father and 
 mounted the horse which had been brought by Daoud, 
 a Christian moukar. He was a short chunky Arab, and 
 rode a small mule. What a difference there was between 
 the Moslem Arabs of yesterday, and this Christian 
 moukar of to-day ! Though of the same station and con- 
 dition of life, he was a civilized man, had good manners, 
 whereas the former were little less than savages. Not 
 once on the road did he refer to the wages I had promised 
 him, nor to any extra. bakshish. 
 
 The valley between Mount Garizim and Mount Hebal 
 is narrow. Naplouse, being a large town, extends 
 through this valley for about a mile. There are still some 
 descendants of the ancient Sichemites, and in their house 
 of worship they show the most ancient manuscript of 
 the five books of Moses extant. It is in the form of a 
 scroll, which runs on two rollers, like the liturgical books 
 of the Jews in their synagogues of our day. The five 
 books of Moses are the only scriptures these Sichemites 
 recognize as inspired. The name Naplouse stands for 
 Neapolis, the name given to Sichem by the Romans 
 after the time of our Savior. The main street of Na- 
 plouse, following the course of the valley and intersecting 
 the town through its whole length, is one continued 
 bazaar where much native business is transacted. The 
 rest of the town has the usual ruinous and neglected 
 appearance common to all Palestine. To look for grand 
 buildings or decent dwellings would be useless. The 
 crumbling walls of ruins, covered with thatched roofs, 
 furnish habitation to the majority of the population. 
 The filth in the streets is, it seems, more abundant 
 than in Jerusalem. 
 
 After traversing the valley of Sichem, Daoud took 
 
 67 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 a trail to the right up the mountainside. He was no 
 laggard, and continually prodded his mule onward, 
 urging me to make haste. The sun shone warm on 
 the mountains, several of which we had left behind, 
 when Sebastieh, the ancient capital of Samaria, on the 
 top of a high hill, came to view. There are many ruins 
 on its outskirts. The trail had become more passable 
 after we left Naplouse, and the country showed more 
 signs of vegetation. We passed several fine springs, 
 and much of the land was under cultivation, or covered 
 with olive and fruit trees. Proceeding some seven or 
 eight miles of hilly country beyond Sebastieh, we entered 
 a wide plain, across which we saw Bethulia perched on 
 a conical shaped hill to our left. This hill rose from 
 the plain, and was somewhat detached from the other 
 mountains that encircled the plain of Bethulia. Holo- 
 fernes had a fine camping-ground for his army on the 
 grassy plain, until Judith chopped off his head. 
 
 Daoud followed an indistinct trail directly across the 
 plain. But it must have been the wrong one, for we 
 were soon in the midst of a swamp. Daoud got very 
 much excited when his ass struck a soft place and sank 
 deep into the ooze. I somewhat enjoyed his excitement, 
 for which there was no great cause. There were sev- 
 eral hoof-marks of cattle leading through the soft places 
 in different directions. Besides he allowed his ass to go 
 so slowly that it could not but sink into the ooze. On 
 no account would he allow me to proceed until he 
 should have crossed. He called a boy, who was at 
 some distance herding cattle, to show him the way. 
 But he was afraid to follow the direction the boy gave. 
 Seeing that he made no headway, I spurred my horse 
 into a run, and followed the old tracks I had seen leading 
 into the morass. My horse floundered through the 
 insidious ooze, sinking deeper and deeper, while Daoud 
 still stood at the edge shouting his lamentations and 
 
 68 
 
Arab Hospitality. 
 
 warnings after me. With a little scare I got safely to 
 the other side. Daoud would not follow, and made a 
 wide detour, where he at last scrambled through with 
 his mule. 
 
 We again briskly pursued our way across the plain. 
 Several large, beautiful black and white birds permitted 
 us to approach within a few yards before they took 
 flight. A flock of ducks also flew across the plain. 
 
 It seems poor Daoud's nerves were altogether un- 
 strung by his adventure in the swamp, for he was now 
 continually grumbling and prodding his ass. He 
 turned around very often, making impatient signs for 
 me to hasten, though I did not lag behind. The foot- 
 hills were soon reached and we entered through wheat 
 patches into an ascending ravine. The sun had dis- 
 appeared, and the anxiety of Daoud probably arose 
 from the fear of not being able to reach Sedabdieh, 
 whither the priest in Naplouse had directed him for the 
 night. The road was again exceedingly rugged, and 
 dusk had begun to settle before we reached the top of 
 the ravine. Daoud pushed aside some of the shrubbery, 
 and gave a grunt of satisfaction when he saw the village 
 lying in the valley below. He hastened down into the 
 valley with his ass, and led the way between some ruined 
 passages to a church on one side of the village. The 
 penetrating smell of burning dung filled the air. The 
 priest was not at home, but he arrived shortly after in 
 company with an Arab priest, who had come on a visit. 
 When Daoud told him that he had brought another 
 priest as a guest for the night, he turned to me and 
 asked me in Arabic, where the visitor was. I answered 
 in French, that I was fearfully tired and hungry, and 
 longed for some rest. Still more puzzled, he repeated 
 his question, for he took me for an Arabian dragoman. 
 It was only after a good deal of explanation, that he 
 became used to the idea that I was his visitor, and a 
 
 69 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 priest in a sheik's outfit. When once he understood 
 the real situation he was hospitality itself. 
 
 Now that I had a prospect of obtaining some rest, a 
 feeling of complete exhaustion overtook me. I had no 
 desire for anything but sleep and rest. How glad I was 
 when the father showed me a room where I could lie 
 down! I fell at once into a sound sleep, and the kind 
 priest must have had a great time to wake me two hours 
 afterwards for supper. He had put himself, no doubt, 
 to some trouble to procure some extra dishes, but I 
 could hardly keep my eyes open while partaking of 
 them. The priests in these countries must be extremely 
 poor, and they no doubt live on almost nothing. Though 
 the two priests seemed anxious to have a talk with me 
 after dinner, I begged them to allow me to go to sleep. 
 The resident priest seemed to be a Frenchman, while 
 his other guest was a full-blooded Arab, who could 
 speak only Arabic. He was on the way to Nazareth, 
 his native town. The long sleep completely restored 
 me, and I awoke in the morning ready to resume my 
 journey. 
 
 Daoud waited with impatience until I finished mass 
 in the little mission chapel and partook of a breakfast. 
 My host would not accept payment for his hospitality, 
 so nothing was left to do but to leave it in the form of 
 stipends. The sun was already far up in its diurnal 
 span when Daoud, the Arab priest, and myself were 
 crossing the valley to Djenine, on the other side of some 
 distant hills. The priest wore a cassock, and over his 
 head a white tarbush, which fluttered in the wind as he 
 rode along. He was mounted on a fine horse and 
 usually took the lead on the trail. 
 
 At about eleven o'clock we came to Djenine, the 
 scriptural Engannin, where Jesus healed the ten lepers. 
 An abundant fountain gushes out of the hillside, which 
 runs by the few miserable dwellings of Djenine and 
 
 70 
 
Esdrelon Plain. 
 
 crosses the great plain of Esdrelon, which now spread 
 out before us. On the spot where Jesus met the lepers 
 a large Greek or Russian convent is built, but the in- 
 mates are so fanatic that my companions would not 
 consent to visit it. From the gardens of this convent, 
 in which are planted a great many fig and olive trees, 
 an old aqueduct is built, and crosses the trail over an 
 arch. It formerly carried the waters of the Kison over the 
 surrounding higher lands for irrigation. Now, however, 
 the clear waters rush out of the gardens through a break 
 in the aqueduct, forming a limpid stream across the 
 trail and through the sloping plain of Esdrelon. The 
 sight of this brook, gushing from beneath the shade of 
 luxurious trees, is extremely refreshing to the dusty trav- 
 eler in Palestine, as he comes from the barren and rocky 
 mountains of Judea. 
 
 The plain of Esdrelon is one of the most extended 
 and beautiful in Palestine. To the right or east, little 
 Hermon, and farther on, Tabor rise as landmarks; to 
 the left, Carmel shuts out the view to the sea. In the 
 mountains of Gilboe, which flank to the right, Saul met 
 his defeat and death. The Kison flows through the 
 midst of the plain. Some parts of the plain are dotted 
 with wheatfields, whereas the middle portions of it 
 afford fine pasture for the cattle. The roads, or paths 
 rather, are free from rocks and it was a pleasure to 
 traverse them. About half way across the plain gad- 
 flies began to swarm around my horse and he became 
 quite unmanageable. Daoud began to shout at me 
 " de bain, " " de bain," as if in danger of death, and made 
 the horse still more frenzied. As I did not know what 
 he meant, I dismounted and let Daoud take charge of 
 him, while I got on the ass. As long as these asses of 
 Palestine choose to keep agoing they are very pleasant 
 and easy to ride. But woe to the traveler when they get 
 tired out, he will have to expect a thousand vexatious 
 
 71 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 tricks. Daoud, after vainly trying to quiet the horse, 
 soon again preferred the ass. 
 
 Nain was visible to the right. It is the village where 
 Jesus called the son of the widow back to life, as they 
 were carrying him out of the city gates for burial. 
 There are no walls or gates at Nain now, only a col- 
 lection of ruins, which give shelter to the few poverty- 
 stricken inhabitants. Not far from Nain, at the foot of 
 Mount Hermon, are the caves of Endor, where Saul 
 persuaded the witch to conjure up the prophet Samuel. 
 Instead of receiving the assurance of victory over his 
 enemies, he heard the judgment of God pronounced 
 against him. That day he came to an ignominious end. 
 Mount Tabor, which had been hidden from sight by the 
 mountains of Gilboe, became visible as we approached 
 the farther limits of the plain of Esdrelon. Nazareth 
 lay in a hollow on the rocky heights of Galilee ahead of 
 us. As we began to climb the rough trail we passed a 
 group of armed Arabs, who scanned us with sinister 
 looks. Farther up a few more seemed to stand as 
 scouts. As our appearance was not particularly promis- 
 ing, we were not molested. 
 
 72 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Nazareth and its Sanctuaries — Brother Jean 
 — Infested Regions — Encounter on Noted 
 Grounds — Blighted Shores of Galilee — An 
 Arab Wedding at Night — In the Hands of a 
 Boatload of Fanatic Moslems. 
 
 Nazareth is not visible from the plain, for it is hidden 
 on a high plateau. It is a friendly-looking town, like 
 Bethlehem. People seem to be more prosperous and 
 the country around is better cultivated. Trees peer 
 over the houses and there are orchards on its outskirts. 
 Just as we reached the fine wagon road that was built 
 from Haipha to Nazareth in the expectation of the Ger- 
 man emperor's visit, two kawasses came galloping past 
 on white horses in advance of a carriage just coming 
 from Haipha. Xhese kawasses like to show their horse- 
 manship and look quite gallant when they approach 
 a town where they know there is no need of using their 
 arms. But I suspect they are not so frisky when they 
 come into the presence of the roving Bedouins. No 
 doubt they would afford small protection in an attack. 
 
 Daoud brought us directly to the Franciscan hospice 
 in Nazareth. These hospices are useful institutions in 
 Palestine, for there the pilgrim finds welcome shelter at 
 all times. The poor are received with as much hos- 
 pitality as the rich. The fees are very moderate, and 
 if any one should not be able to pay, he will no doubt 
 be allowed to depart in peace. The Franciscans are 
 found established at most of the holy places, and it is 
 only of late that other Catholic orders have opened 
 hospices in Jerusalem also. But it seems that at the 
 
 73 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 Nazareth hospice the line is drawn at an Arab sheik. 
 They would not believe that I was a Christian pilgrim, 
 much less a priest. Fortunately for me, Bishop Kelly 
 from Australia just happened to meet me in the reception 
 room. As I had spoken to him in Casa Nova at Jeru- 
 salem, he recognized me in spite of the Bedouin clothes. 
 Then brother Jean, highly amused at my enterprise, 
 received me quite cordially and assigned a room for my 
 use. During his long experience he had not met a pil- 
 grim who made use of such a scheme to evade the 
 marauding Arabs. Daoud, after receiving the stipulated 
 pay, returned to Naplouse that afternoon. 
 
 After sending a despatch to my companion in Jeru- 
 salem, Brother Jean personally conducted me and Rev. 
 Westermeyer, a priest from Tucson, Arizona, to the 
 noteworthy places in Nazareth. In the upper part of 
 the town is the Mensa Christi. It is a large stone about 
 three feet high and six by nine square, with an almost 
 flat surface on top, where Christ is said to have eaten 
 with his apostles after the resurrection. A fine chapel 
 is built over this stone. Farther down, in one of the 
 crooked streets, are the remains of the synagogue, 
 whence the enraged Jews dragged Jesus in order to 
 precipitate him from the cliff. This latter is about a 
 half mile out of town, in a rugged defile in the mountain. 
 The most remarkable place in Nazareth will always be 
 the place where the Blessed Virgin lived and where the 
 angel appeared unto Mary to announce the miraculous 
 conception of the Son of God. This spot is behind the 
 hospice, inside of a beautiful church. It is built up on the 
 old foundation of St. Helen's church, covering the former 
 site of the holy house of Loretto, and the caves, that 
 formed part of the dwelling of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. 
 
 As you enter the church you see a magnificent high 
 altar rising above the platform in front. This platform 
 is about fifteen feet higher than the main body of the 
 
 74 
 
"Hie Verbum Caro Factum Est. 77 
 
 church and forms the sanctuary. The church is beau- 
 tifully decorated throughout and the stained glass win- 
 dows shed through it a mellow light. Under the plat- 
 form are the crypts or caves, which were a part of the 
 dwelling of the holy family. Fifteen marble steps, 
 about twelve feet wide, lead down to the first cave. On 
 the spot where Mary knelt as She received the message 
 of the angel and where She gave her blessed consent to 
 the Incarnation, stands the altar of the Annunciation. 
 Lights are continually burning in front of it. The walls 
 of the cave are covered with marble slabs, with the ex- 
 ception of the pillar to the left, where the angel hovered, 
 when he brought the message. What Christian's heart 
 is not moved in places like this, where such heavenly 
 mysteries transpired? Here heaven came in contact 
 with the earth ; here the darkness of sin was dispelled by 
 the light of heaven ; here God asked the lowly Virgin to 
 become his Mother. 
 
 Behind the altar is another cave, which is said to have 
 been the kitchen of the holy family. Adjoining this, a 
 third cave formed another apartment. The brother 
 showed us certain remnants which indicated in what 
 position the house of Loretto must have stood and how 
 it was joined to the caves so as to form one dwelling with 
 them. It was, and is even now, very common among 
 the Jews to build their dwelling over the openings of 
 caves in such a way so as to make use of them as part 
 of the abode. The miraculous transportation of the 
 holy house of Loretto is such a well authenticated fact 
 that none but the hypercritical find difficulty in believing 
 it. As I knew that it would not be very long before I 
 would see Loretto, I took particular notice of circum- 
 stances relating to this sacred spot and the sanctuary of 
 Loretto. Any one that weighs well the evidences will 
 come to the conclusion that such a house as that at 
 Loretto has once stood here. 
 
 75 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 The workshop of St. Joseph is not far from the church 
 of the Annunciation ; here the Crusaders had built a large 
 basilica, of which only the foundations remain. They 
 have been excavated by the Franciscans and are plainly 
 visible. A chapel occupies that part of the foundations 
 which enclose the old workshop. They have also suc- 
 ceeded in buying up all the space intervening between 
 the church and the workshop, with the exception of a 
 small lot, so that very soon all the space connected with 
 the workshop of her spouse and the dwelling place of 
 the holy family will be under Franciscan custody. 
 
 The next morning I said holy Mass on the spot where 
 the blessed Virgin received the message from the angel, 
 and where the word was made flesh. In the credo of 
 every Mass said on this altar the priest says, " Hie 
 verbum caro factum est," i. e., "Here the word was 
 made flesh." Brother Jean is quite an original char- 
 acter and well fitted for the office he holds as manager of 
 the hospice. He speaks seven different languages. 
 The French priests fare badly in his estimation. Out 
 of hundreds of them that he had met, only two of them 
 acknowledged that the French people are falling away 
 from the faith. Those two, however, had told him with 
 tears in their eyes, that religion has no hold on the men 
 in France and that the churches are filled mostly by 
 the women. If it is necessary to see an evil before it 
 can be corrected, then this wilful blindness of the French 
 clergy is certainly a bad omen. Three American priests 
 were camping at the foot of the hill on the outskirts of 
 Nazareth. They were in charge of a dragoman and 
 were paying 850 francs apiece for his services as guide. 
 This is an enormous price. My expenses had not yet 
 amounted to 30 francs, and Rev. Westermeyer, who trav- 
 eled alone with a moukar, will make the journey from 
 Jerusalem to Nazareth, Tiberias, Tabor, and Haipha for 
 about 140 francs. Of course he must stop over night 
 
 76 
 
Start for Tiberias. 
 
 wherever he finds accommodation, like myself. One 
 that does not know how to be independent of dragomen 
 is at their mercy. They increase their demands in pro- 
 portion as one is dependent upon them. 
 
 After dinner brother Jean sent me a moukar, who 
 was to bring a horse for my trip to Tiberias and return. 
 The moukar brought a horse furnished with Arab saddle 
 and stirrups. But the wily moukar, instead of accom- 
 panying me to take care of the horse, as was agreed, at 
 the first turning of the road, left me and the horse in 
 charge of a battered and ragged piece of humanity, who 
 was partly lame, almost blind, and not altogether too 
 sharp of hearing. I did not much care or take notice 
 of him at first, but when I perceived that in addition he 
 was not very sure of the way, all his other deficiencies 
 became so much the more annoying. Just as we were 
 leaving Nazareth, an Arab woman ran past us with 
 dishevelled hair and screaming. She was pursued by a 
 furious Arab, who soon seized her by the hair and struck 
 her in the face. The maddened woman seized a large 
 stone to hurl it at the man. I suppose this is one of the 
 amenities of married life in the Arab harems. 
 
 On the outskirts of the town we passed the fountain 
 of Mary, which is the only source of fresh water for 
 Nazareth. Two large jets gush from a ruined alcove 
 into a trough and from there meander down the valley. 
 All day long the women of Nazareth are seen gathered 
 around this fountain, filling their earthen jars, washing 
 their clothes and, womanlike, gossiping with each other. 
 Dexterously they balance the large jars containing 
 three or four gallons of water on top of their heads and 
 walk along the rough streets without spilling a drop. 
 This accounts for the straight and upright carriage of 
 their bodies, which is so noticeable in the women of 
 Oriental countries. In the large families one of the 
 females is deputed to do this water-carrying, and it 
 
 77 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 keeps her busy most of the time. The water-jars in the 
 Orient would do good service in running opposition to 
 the ice companies in our own country. For the water 
 exudes like perspiration through the porous earthen- 
 ware ; if the jar is then exposed to a current of air, the 
 rapid evaporation of the thin moisture on the outside 
 will keep the water cool and fresh. Travelers on 
 horseback or on foot generally carry a small jar, in 
 which the water is always kept in good condition by 
 this process. 
 
 We left behind us several hills and passed a village 
 before we came to Kep Kana, where Jesus changed the 
 water into wine at the marriage feast. The Franciscans 
 have erected a chapel over the foundations of an older 
 church on the spot, where this first public miracle was 
 wrought by the Savior. The guardian of the convent on 
 Mount Tabor happened to be there on a visit. He invited 
 me to the dwelling and regaled me with a glass of wine. 
 A little farther on is another chapel on the site of Nathan- 
 aePs house. About two miles from Kana, in a valley to 
 the left, is seen the field, where the apostles, being hungry, 
 plucked some ears of corn on the Sabbath. The Pharisees 
 accused them of having thereby violated the sabbath, 
 but Jesus defended them against their hateful aspersions. 
 A fine field of grain was waving even then in the same 
 spot. The meadows and fields hereabouts are in a 
 pleasant contrast with the barren mountains of Judea 
 and eastern Samaria, which I had traversed on the first 
 two days. The road gradually ascends to a high ridge, 
 about a mile to the left of the rude village Loubieh. 
 The Kouroun Hattine, or hill of beatitudes, stands out 
 boldly against the blue sky. Here Jesus is said to 
 have taught the eight beatitudes, which have become 
 the foundation of all Christian civilization. Six hun- 
 dred years ago, the crusaders made their last stand 
 against the Moslems under Saladin, but met great 
 
 78 
 
"Harami!" 
 
 slaughter and defeat. It put an end to the kingdom of 
 Jerusalem after a duration of less than one hundred 
 years. 
 
 I desired to visit the summit of this mountain, where 
 the beatitudes were first proclaimed, and I accordingly 
 turned my horse off the road to ascend to its summit. 
 But my moukar raised loud objections, calling out with 
 violent gesticulations: "Harami, harami! " (robbers, 
 robbers), refusing to follow. As the ground became 
 too rough and broken, I dismounted and tied the horse 
 to a projecting rock, motioning him to come and take 
 charge of it, while I proceeded to climb the hill alone. 
 The place looked lonesome and rugged enough, but as I 
 did not see any sign of human life either around its sides 
 or on its summit, I pushed on till I reached the plateau 
 of the mountain. Ruins of an old church are still scat- 
 tered about, while several rocks jut out around the edges, 
 which give this mountain its present name of Kouroun, 
 or Horns of Hattine. A beautiful view is had from this 
 summit. To the northeast, at about seven miles distance, 
 the large town of Saphet lies scattered over the brow of 
 a hill. To the east, in a deep basin, surrounded by 
 mountains, gleam the blue waters of Genesareth. Across 
 the lake over the mountains of Moab, the snow-covered 
 summit of the greater Hermon caught the rays of the 
 evening sun. To the southeast stretches the woody 
 valley of the Jordan, and in the southwest, Tabor's 
 oval heights rise over the plains of Esdrelon. Carmel, 
 behind it, shuts off the view of the Mediterranean Sea. 
 The mountains of Galilee gradually merge into the 
 higher Libanon range of Syria. 
 
 My spurt up the Mount of Beatitudes had consumed 
 more time than I had calculated and the sun was now 
 sinking. As I again resumed the saddle to traverse the 
 broken ground back to our trail, a band of Bedouins 
 were coming from an opposite direction along the road 
 
 79 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 which I sought to regain. Two of them, on horseback 
 and armed with carabines, halted as they saw us at a 
 distance, and then left the road and crossed the fields in 
 a gallop toward us. I did not know what their intention 
 was, but it was evidently necessary to make some kind of 
 a bluff, if I did not want to be molested. So I boldly 
 changed my direction in order to meet them squarely. 
 They halted within a dozen yards, grasping their guns. 
 As a counter move I put my right hand to my belt as if 
 ready to draw a weapon. Evidently they were puzzled 
 and expected a parley at least. But they were bound to 
 be disappointed. I said nothing, not even "Salaam," 
 for my dignity of sheik, wearing a ten times better haik 
 than they, required that they should greet me first. In a 
 puzzled way they muttered that word of greeting as I rode 
 closely past them. I answered with a surly "Aleikun." 
 They must have readily understood, that I was not in- 
 clined to waste too much of my Arabic on them. But 
 they detained my sorry guide and plied him with ques- 
 tions, while I rode on toward the trail. I don't know 
 what fibs the guide told them about me, but they released 
 him after a short parley and he came trudging on behind. 
 The path now descended rapidly down the bluffs to 
 the basin of the lake. The dusk began to settle rapidly, 
 and as it became quite dark, I took a side trail in the hope 
 of reaching the valley sooner. The guide had completely 
 lost his way and stumbled on behind me. I could do 
 nothing but trust entirely to the instinct of my horse to 
 bring me again to the main road. On either side, some 
 distance from our course, Bedouins were heard, and 
 groups of them were coming toward us, holding rude 
 lanterns in our directions. I urged on my stumbling 
 horse, loudly repeating the Arabic words which I had 
 heard Daoud use in urging on his beasts of burden. In 
 the dark of course the Arabs must have taken us for one 
 of their own marauders returning to Tiberias. 
 
 80 
 
Arab Nuptials. 
 
 Happily my horse again found the main road and 
 long before we reached Tiberias, we saw tiny lights far 
 down in the valley gleaming through the darkness. 
 Coming nearer, we were surprised to find that the lights 
 we had seen, were small bonfires and lanterns used by 
 bands of Arabs outside the old city walls. They were 
 celebrating some Mahomedan feast, and the dull rattling 
 of drums and the sound of fifes supplemented the bonfires. 
 The hospice of the Franciscans is built on the site of St. 
 Peter's house. We had to grope our way through the 
 garbage and half-ruined walls of several streets, before 
 we came to its gate. Spanish fathers and two Brazilian 
 brothers received me with laughing surprise at my strange 
 garb. It was hard to do justice to their curious inquiries 
 and to the substantial supper at one and the same time. 
 
 Afterwards one of the brothers conducted me to the 
 flat roof of the three-storied hospice, in order to see some- 
 thing of an Arab wedding going on in one of the neighbor- 
 ing houses. Sounds of festive music and gaiety were 
 heard long before the real ceremony took place. At 
 about nine o'clock a crowd of young people and some 
 men were seen coming slowly from the upper part of the 
 town with lanterns and torches. In their midst the 
 bride, entirely veiled, was led by some of her relatives 
 over the rough street. The motley crowd of Arabs, 
 young and old, kept up a continual singing and shouting, 
 clapping of hands, and beating of cymbals. One shrill 
 cry, like the long-drawn triller of frogs in early spring, 
 sounded above all the rest of the noise. The flickering 
 light of the torches lighted up the earnest faces of the 
 swarthy crowd as they passed in front of the hospice. 
 The bride disappeared behind the doors of the house, 
 while most of the men and children remained outside in 
 the courtyard and the street. Only the shrill frog-cry 
 yet resounded at intervals from the interior of the house. 
 
 Half an hour later the clamor of a still larger pro- 
 
 81 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 cession was heard coming from a different direction of 
 the city. It was the bridegroom seeking his bride. He 
 was conducted down the same street by the light of flar- 
 ing torches. A crowd of men were singing a monotonous 
 song with alternate responses like a litany. They were 
 moving along sideways in two rows, and at each response 
 they bowed toward the bridegroom almost to the ground. 
 Others waved their torches, struck the cymbals, or 
 played the flutes. The bridegroom, blindfolded, and 
 with hands loosely tied in front, was conducted by two 
 guides through the narrow streets. The noise became 
 louder as they passed the hospice, and ended in confused 
 shouts as they arrived at the locked gates of the afore- 
 mentioned courtyard. The whole procession seemed to 
 be in suspense for a while, as the loud knocks at the gate 
 resounded through the night. Now and then also the 
 high, quavering notes of the frog-cry sounded from the 
 interior of the house. At length the gate seemed to have 
 been forced open, and the bridegroom, freed from his 
 bonds, rushed alone into the yard, while the bride was 
 seen rushing down a stairs. The whole scene was lit up 
 fantastically by the flickering torches. They fell into 
 each other's arms and disappeared together in one of the 
 side doors to indulge their nuptial rites in sacred privacy. 
 The whole crew of Arabs outside raised a shout, for, as 
 in the regulation novel, the loving pair had found each 
 other and were now united. There was nothing left for 
 us but to descend from the roof of our hospice; 
 the show was over. 
 
 The next day being the feast of Saint George, which 
 is a duplex here (I mention this for the benefit of my 
 clerical friends who are accustomed to celebrate it as a 
 semi-duplex in the United States), I celebrated his mass 
 in preference to that of St. Peter, which can be said every 
 day of the year on this altar. After mass I hired a boat 
 to row to the ruins of Magdala, Capharnaum, and Beth- 
 
 82 
 
A Boat-Ride. 
 
 saida. A lazier crew than the one I had happened on 
 never pulled oars. Six had entered the boat besides the 
 owner and myself. But only two of them at a time did 
 any rowing. The rest of them lay dozing or chatting on 
 the seats. Once or twice they were stung to exertion by 
 the ridicule which I served out to them. Magdala is now 
 a field of ruins, where bandits watch for unprotected 
 travelers, or the jackal prowls about. The same may be 
 said of Bethsaida and Capharnaum, only the ruins are 
 more extensive. And yet the lands around seem to be 
 more fertile than other parts of the country. The male- 
 diction of Jesus Christ over these once flourishing cities, 
 as over the rest of Palestine, is literally fulfilled. For 
 nearly all the towns and villages, even a great part of 
 Jerusalem, are only heaps of ruins and the inhabitants 
 are but the dregs of the many surrounding and distant 
 nations, that have been left behind by the invading 
 armies. I proposed taking a bath in mid-lake. But 
 my swarthy boatmates would not hear of it, as a traveler 
 had been drowned some time ago while out on the lake, 
 and the crew of his boat had been seized under suspicion 
 of having thrown him overboard. I believe it was just 
 as well that they did refuse, for one or two of them had 
 listened to some of my remarks about Mahomet with 
 quite an angry scowl. 
 
 Lake Genesareth is a beautiful sheet of water some six 
 miles wide by about ten long. The Jordan enters it from 
 the north and issues again from the south, flowing on about 
 seventy miles to be lost in the salty waters of the Dead 
 Sea. The mountains of Moab rise in high barren cliffs 
 on its eastern shore. Only one of the many towns and 
 villages that dotted its shores during the time of Christ still 
 remains, Tiberias, containing about four thousand inhab- 
 itants. It is nothing but a large collection of ruins and 
 mud-huts surrounded by crumbling fortification walls. 
 The best building in Tiberias is the Franciscan hospice. 
 
 83 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Across Hill and Dale to Tabor's Heights — Sur- 
 prising a Caravan — Sacred Shrines of Old — 
 Again at Nazareth — Coaching to Haipha. 
 
 After dinner my worthy guide stumbled on ahead of 
 me through a breach of the city walls, and up the high 
 bluffs over a trail, which he guessed would bring us to 
 Mount Tabor. On the top of the steep declivities, 
 however, the trail branched out into several others going 
 in different directions. As he blundered into a path, 
 which led into the valley of the Jordan south of us, I 
 simply recalled him and led the way across a spacious 
 valley, which lay to the west, and at the head of which 
 the horned crags of the Mount of Beatitudes lay north- 
 ward. As I urged on my horse at a fast gait, he dropped 
 behind, and had lost sight of me by the time my horse 
 began to climb toward a ravine on the opposite ridge of 
 hills. Like many others of the natives of Palestine, he 
 suffered from sore eyes and was almost blind. The 
 disease is brought on by handling dried figs, which con- 
 tain a subtle poison. As they do not wash their hands 
 very frequently, it is readily brought into contact with 
 the eyes. When I was on the point of entering the 
 ravine, I saw my guide far down in the valley, anxiously 
 looking for me, and uttering doleful cries, though I was 
 in plain sight. After waiting in vain for a while, I had 
 to ride within a few yards of him before he saw me and 
 heard my loud calls. 
 
 I pointed in the direction of Tabor and proceeded up 
 the broken ravine. We were expecting to find a cool 
 drink at the fountain head of a rippling stream, which 
 
 85 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 purled down over the rocks, but our hopes vanished, 
 when we saw several men and children bathing in the 
 very trough of the spring. On the summit of the moun- 
 tain is perched a half -ruined village, inhabited by bandit- 
 like Arabs. From there we could distinguish the trail 
 down the gradual descent to the foot of Tabor. About 
 two miles farther on, Koud-el-khan guards the trail on 
 both sides like two forts. It was formerly used as a 
 gathering place for the cattle and camel drivers from 
 across the Jordan and from the south. Here they made 
 their exchange between Egypt and Arabia before the 
 time of railroads and canals. Koud-el-khan is in ruins 
 now and a favorite resort of nomad Bedouins. The 
 neighborhood affords fine pastures and the small stream 
 in the valley is fringed with growths of trees and shrub. 
 Down on the other side of the stream, a tall Arab had 
 dismounted from his white horse and was performing his 
 prayers toward Mecca with many a profound bow and 
 prostration. The mellow light of the evening sun fell 
 across his gaunt, dark features. He took no notice of 
 us as we forded the stream near by. 
 
 The country around Tabor is well wooded; the 
 mountain itself is clothed in green, though the trees are 
 not of large size. Shadows were now darkening the 
 valleys, and the sinking sun slanted across our path, that 
 zigzagged up among the trees and shrubbery of the 
 western side of the mountain. But darkness had settled 
 over the country before we arrived at the old fortification 
 walls on the summit. The Franciscan hospice is on the 
 eastern end of the oval-shaped plateau. The crusaders 
 had built walls around the whole top ; and a church on 
 the ruins of an older one, which marked the spot of the 
 Transfiguration. All these are now in ruins, near the 
 hospice. 
 
 We were not a little surprised to find a cavalcade of 
 horses tied up on the sides of the road. But that was 
 
 S6 
 
On Tabor. 
 
 soon explained when we came to the open door of a hall, 
 from which lights were gleaming. In the hall a long 
 table was set with many plates. About twenty members 
 of the Cologne pilgrimage were standing or sitting, some 
 of them in lively conversations. Father Custos, whom I 
 had seen the day before at Kana, was standing opposite 
 the entrance, talking to two of the caravan. He saw me 
 enter, but thinking it was only one of the moukars of the 
 caravan, took no further notice of me. I had to approach 
 and assure him that I was the person he had seen yester- 
 day. Then one of the caravan, by the name of Ruf, 
 from Bavaria, came up and exclaimed : " O, das ist ja der 
 Amerikaner!" Of course the rest of the party, with 
 most of whom I had made the trip to Emmaus, now 
 crowded up and fully identified me. I was busy answer- 
 ing their questions for the next hour during supper. I 
 thought most of them looked pretty well worn out by 
 their trip. One of them had his arm in a sling, as he had 
 sprained it by a fall from his horse. All went to sleep 
 early, for they wanted to continue on their way to Tibe- 
 rias before sunrise in the morning. 
 
 At four o'clock sleep was cut short by the bustle and 
 noise of preparation for their departure. I myself said 
 mass in the chapel of the Transfiguration later on, and 
 Father Custos showed me around after the caravan had 
 left. The plateau of Tabor was first encircled by a wall 
 under the Romans by Flavius Josephus, the historian. 
 Later on the crusaders extended and strengthened these 
 walls. When the Moslems again took possession of 
 Palestine, they tore down the church and made great 
 additions to the citadel in conformity with Oriental taste. 
 The ruins of this citadel still cover a large area of the east 
 end of the mount. To judge by these ruins there must 
 have been a strong garrison and the commanders must 
 have lived in magnificently furnished quarters. On the 
 north side of the plateau the Russian monks have their 
 
 87 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 own large establishment. Descending Tabor by the same 
 trail on which we had come up, we took a road branching 
 off to the left at the foot of the mount. We soon passed 
 the village of Tabourieh and crossed a torrent. After 
 surmounting three barren mountains on the farther side 
 of the torrent, we pursued our way back to Nazareth. I 
 was so tired out that I fell asleep on my stumbling nag 
 several times. I had made the trip to Tiberias and Tabor 
 in about half the usual time. The remaining part of the 
 day was devoted to rest and sleep. 
 
 The next day there was quite a change in my mode 
 of traveling. Father Hermann Sctnvarzer, of St. Peter's 
 Institute in Jerusalem, was about to depart for Haipha 
 in a carriage. I made arrangements to go with him. 
 A native merchant was also in our company. We en- 
 joyed the ride thoroughly, and I incidentally learned a 
 little Arabic. He invited me to make a trip in a boat 
 on the Jordan from Tiberias to the Dead sea. Of 
 course I regretted very much that I could not spare the 
 time. The scenery along the road is not so bad for a 
 country like Palestine. Coming out of Nazareth over 
 the brow of the hills and skirting along the mountains 
 that border the plains of Esdrelon, we had some fine 
 glimpses of Carmel and the Mediterranean. Reaching 
 the plain we stopped at a picturesque khan, where an 
 old Greek papa was sitting on a stool. He immediately 
 asked me for some stipends. A few miles east of Haipha 
 the road crosses the Kison. Along its valley a railroad 
 is in course of construction for the last seven or eight 
 years. They have already built four or five miles of 
 road, and perhaps in fifty or sixty years they will reach 
 Tiberias, that is, if they keep up the present rapid con- 
 struction. But who can tell? There were at least a 
 half dozen men at work on the road as we passed. 
 
 Haipha is a lively town, full of business, though on a 
 small scale. It is built on the north side of the long- 
 
 88 
 
Haipha. 
 
 stretched Carmel. But it is fully two miles distant from 
 the end of the promontory, which the mountain forms. 
 The shores of the Mediterranean make quite a bend 
 around the mountain, so that Haipha is squeezed in 
 between the north side of Carmel and the seashore. 
 
 Father Schwarzer betook himself to the convent of the 
 Ratisbon German Sisters, while I intended to take lodg- 
 ing in the Franciscan hospice in Haipha. But the burly 
 brother that opened the door eyed me suspiciously, and 
 would have nothing to do with a Bedouin. Evidently 
 he suspected that I came for no good intent, and he shut 
 the door on me without ceremony. The next best thing 
 to do was to try my luck at the door of the great Carmelite 
 monastery, about a mile and a half up Mount Carmel. 
 The sun was about to sink and its last rays fell upon the 
 old buildings, which stood out in bold profile against 
 the sky on the western bluffs of the mountain. The 
 path leads gradually up the woody sides and passes 
 round the front of the promontory. Again the French 
 brother that received me was startled at my appearance, 
 but I would not be put off so easily this time : I simply 
 stayed. Several times during the evening, as he sat 
 opposite me and shaking his head, he said : " Pourquoi 
 avez vous pris ces habiliments?" He could not under- 
 stand why I did not travel in a cassock. To tell the 
 truth, his scruples troubled me very little, as long as I 
 had prospects of a good meal and a good sleep; they 
 did not interfere with these. 
 
 8 9 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 Wooded Carmel — Strolls at Haipha — Forced 
 Marches along Mediterranean Shores — Lodg- 
 ing in a Khan — Lydda to Jerusalem on the 
 "Limited" — Practical Hints. 
 
 On the next morning a German father showed me 
 the extensive buildings of the monastery and hospice. 
 The origin of this monastery dates back to the time of 
 Elias; for, ever since he dwelt in the cave over which 
 the church is built, hermits have sought retirement on 
 this isolated promontory. Many Essenes or Jewish 
 ascetics lived here before the coming of the Messiah. 
 After the ascension of Christ, Christians began to inhabit 
 the wild caves of the mountain. Since the twelfth cen- 
 tury, Carmelite monks have located here. In the grotto 
 of Elias the most prominent object is the beautiful 
 statue of the Blessed Virgin above the high altar. From 
 the roof of the monastery there is an extensive view along 
 the shores of the Mediterranean to Akka and Beirout, 
 paralleled by the Libanus mountain-chain. 
 
 Brother Ambrose would not hear a word of my re- 
 turning alone to Jerusalem along the seacoast. He 
 would not even give me any information regarding the 
 road, in order not to be accessory to any harm that 
 might befall me. He claimed that a lonely traveler 
 would certainly be held up by roving bands. As he was 
 so inflexible in his opinion, I decided to hunt up Father 
 Schwarzer in Haipha. At the convent where he was on 
 a visit, the sister would not unlock the iron picket gate 
 of the enclosure, when such a strange looking individual 
 as myself in Arab clothes desired entrance. But Rev. 
 
 9i 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 Schwarzer soon set them at ease, and told them I was 
 not quite as dangerous as I looked. He and the chaplain 
 of the convent were just as emphatic in trying to dissuade 
 me from going alone to Jerusalem by way of the plains 
 of Samaria. But they finally yielded so far as to promise 
 to procure a moukar with two horses. I was to set out 
 early next morning. 
 
 In the afternoon, Father Schwarzer and I had quite an 
 extended walk through the German Protestant Tem- 
 plars' settlement and up the long ridge of Mount Carmel. 
 Everywhere along the slope of the mountain, the fields 
 and vineyards of those thrifty colonists could be seen. 
 Their houses, in the western part of Haipha, are sur- 
 rounded by gardens, and look very neat. On the eastern 
 end of Carmel they have an immense hospice in the 
 midst of extensive vineyards. From here we could also 
 enjoy a beautiful view of the plains of Esdrelon. The 
 Kison, winding in many a graceful bend through the 
 green valley, reflected the blue of the evening sky. 
 Haipha lay at our feet far below, and the settlement of 
 the Templars, with its rows of trees and the bright 
 colored houses, contrasted pleasantly with the crumbling 
 houses and shops of the Turkish settlement on its east 
 end. 
 
 Next morning at sunrise, the moukar brought a fine 
 horse, while he himself bestrode a mare, somewhat lame, 
 but which kept up a lively pacing nearly the whole day. 
 Like all Arabs, he was very monosyllabic, merely beck- 
 oning me not to lag behind. Our way led around the 
 promontory of Carmel and then through the widening 
 plains, which slope gently down the receding mountains 
 to the sea. For the first ten or twelve miles the plains 
 are pretty well cultivated, and our road was generally a 
 mere path through the wheatfields. Our horses every 
 now and then could not be restrained from cropping 
 some of the ears at the side of the path, nor was my 
 
 92 
 
Seacoast Plains 
 
 moukar so very anxious to restrain them. The way 
 diverged from the seashore, so that at noon time, when 
 we held our frugal meal in an immense vineyard, we 
 were quite a distance eastward from Caesarea, which 
 lies halfway between Haipha and Jaffa, on the shore of 
 the Mediterranean. An hour later we came to a dilap- 
 idated water-mill by the side of a small stream. I won- 
 dered to find even that much enterprise, though the mill 
 looked small and primitive enough. Some miles beyond 
 this we crossed some marshy stretches, which again gave 
 way to groupings of olive and other trees : a region quite 
 different from the stony deserts of Judea and Samaria. 
 My moukar pushed lustily onward, his limping mare 
 always ahead and pacing most of the time. At about 
 four o'clock, we had reached the plains of Samaria, 
 where a gentle breeze from the sand dunes to the west 
 softly swept through the ripening wheatfields around us. 
 The soil must be very productive here and the people 
 more industrious than in other parts of Palestine. 
 
 My moukar got into scarcely distinguishable by- 
 paths and changed directions several times, evidently 
 puzzled as to the right way. Ruinous villages were 
 visible in the plains and on the hillsides, towards one of 
 which we were tending at setting of the sun. I was in 
 hopes it would prove to be the stopping place for the 
 night, for we had been laboriously traveling since early 
 morning. But the moukar hastened past a group of 
 natives gathered at the well outside the walls, and pointed 
 to a lonely building in a wide plain. At this khan we 
 arrived at dusk and were received by a Turk in some 
 kind of old uniform. The building consisted of four 
 walls, enclosing a square courtyard, and so arranged as 
 to form sheds for beasts toward the interior. Above one 
 of these sheds one solitary small room was supposed to 
 furnish shelter for travelers. I was not slow in dis- 
 mounting and crossing the filthy courtyard to the sump- 
 
 93 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 -____—■■_» __— __ — — _ — — • ■___=____. _____ _______ _______ ______ __■ >__^___^____^^_^_i^^_. 
 
 tuous lodging upstairs. As I pushed open the door, 
 three rude couches, a stool, and a rickety table gave but 
 faint prospects of rest to tired limbs. But there was at 
 least one of nature's best refreshments to be had: cool 
 water. Immediately outside the door on the roof of 
 the shed, a huge waterwheel was slowly revolving on its 
 wooden axles driven by a mule downstairs. Creaking 
 and groaning, it laboriously brought up small buckets 
 full of water from the well and automatically emptied 
 them into a trough. A stream of this water entered the 
 room at one corner and flowed in an open gutter on the 
 floor and out through an opening at the opposite end. 
 Here it splattered down into a large stone reservoir out- 
 side the walls of the house to be distributed for irrigation 
 through the adjoining fields. I thought it a fine arrange- 
 ment and I immediately procured the luxury of a cool 
 footbath in the running stream. 
 
 But I waited in vain for something to eat, and not 
 until I had hunted up my moukar, did the keeper bring 
 up a little of the pancake-bread, no better than that 
 which I had refused to eat on the first two days of my 
 trip. In addition, also some eggs, fried in dirty grease, 
 and a tin-cup full of coffee. The moukar and myself 
 partook of this frugal meal; that is, I tried to make my 
 moukar eat it all, if possible, for I had not yet arrived at 
 such a point of starvation as to relish the disgusting 
 victuals. He was not at all slow to seize such an advant- 
 age. A third, most ragged inmate had entered and 
 thrown himself on one of the couches, while the moukar 
 and myself sought the others. However, I soon found 
 out, that if these couches were not padded with blocks 
 of wood, they must have been lined with harder and 
 more uneven boulders. Music also was not wanting in 
 this hostelry ; besides the insidious songs of bloodthirsty 
 gnats, my moukar and the other inmate vied in stentori- 
 ous .snores in all varieties of deepfelt expression, min- 
 
 94 
 
At Lydda, 
 
 uendos, crescendos, and fortissimos, — literally "to beat 
 the band" of mosquitos. Many times during the night 
 I turned on that merciless couch, where even weariness 
 could not woo the blessed sleep. 
 
 Next morning we found ourselves again astride of 
 our horses traversing the gentle undulations of Samaria. 
 Early in the forenoon, a large caravan of camels heralded 
 their approach from afar by their peculiar odor. The 
 Arabs smear some kind of grease or tar over the skin of 
 the camels in order to protect them from flies and from 
 the exposure of travel. This, of course, does not add 
 any particular attractiveness to a herd of these patient 
 animals. Some miles farther, one of the camels had been 
 left to its fate by the Arabs, probably because its days of 
 service were at an end. About noon, Lydda, where I was 
 to take the train for Jerusalem, hove into distant view. 
 Miles and miles of the finest wheatfields lay yet between, 
 and it seems that here the fruitfulness of the Holy Land 
 is fully up to its old record. Around Lydda large olive 
 orchards, fenced by high cactus hedges, lined both sides 
 of the road. Lydda is but a collection of the usual 
 ruinous huts, though in the first century it was the centre 
 of an important diocese and, no doubt, a large town. 
 St. George was born here, and for several centuries his 
 body rested in a large and beautiful church. Now there 
 is only a crumbling Greek chapel on the site of the former 
 cathedral. The habitation of the Russian monks, who 
 have charge of this spot, stands near by in no better 
 condition. 
 
 The railroad station is about one mile from the 
 village. I had just enough gold left to give the moukar 
 two napoleons and pay the fare to Jerusalem. I was 
 yet in time for an extra train, entirely empty, which on 
 its return was to carry some hundreds of Russian pil- 
 grims back to Jaffa. On the train I could stretch 
 myself in full length upon the vacant benches, until we 
 
 95 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 reached Jerusalem. At the hospice, the first one who 
 welcomed me was Ali, and I learnt that my absence had 
 caused some apprehension. My traveling companion 
 had in the meanwhile suffered a severe attack of the 
 fever peculiar to Jerusalem, and had been out of the 
 house only twice during the ten days of my absence. 
 He had many words of praise for the excellent care taken 
 of him during his sickness. It seems he had also worried 
 a great deal about my safety. 
 
 Practical Hints. To a Christian traveler the Holy Land 
 must always be the most interesting land on earth. For here 
 our Salvation was begun, and here is, as it were, the focus of all 
 the world's history and of civilization. But in order to arrive at 
 a true estimate of the things seen in the Holy Land, it is absolutely 
 necessary to be somewhat informed of the history of the Jews and 
 of the Christian faith. Moreover, all must be viewed in the light 
 of faith. Thousands of tourists depart after a few days' stay, 
 entirely disgusted with the ruinous appearance of many remark- 
 able spots, the warring and strife between different religions, the 
 poverty and degradation of the inhabitants. Thus, instead of 
 seeing their ideals of the holy places realized, they find them 
 entirely destroyed. But let the traveler look beneath the surface 
 and try to account for the conditions, and he will depart strength- 
 ened in faith and even much edified. In order to obtain such a 
 result, it is necessary to make a longer stay. No visit to Palestine 
 is complete without including the tour to Jericho, Bethlehem, and 
 Nazareth, at least. Traveling in a caravan is expensive and soon 
 irksome. It is better to incur a little more trouble and hardship, 
 and make the trip with a moukar. Of course carrying tents is 
 then out of the question. The company of one or two friends will 
 make the trip still more pleasant. The expenses of a trip with a 
 moukar are not high. The dangers of being robbed are probably 
 much exaggerated by tourist agencies and dragomen, who would, 
 of course, lose customers by the more venturesome mode of travel. 
 I do not see what three or four healthy Europeans would need to 
 fear from the roving Bedouins, even if there would be a band of 
 them. Besides, if they dress in poor garb, they would be in no 
 danger, even singly. Plunder is what attracts the Bedouin. He 
 will not seek it, where none is evident. 
 
 96 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Ecce Homo Arch — Saint Anne's Tomb — The 
 Cave of the Agony — Russian Foresight — 
 Among Old Tombs and Monuments — St. Peter's 
 Institute — Caverns of Jerusalem. 
 
 After a short rest we were again on our tour of visits 
 to notable places in and around Jerusalem. One of our 
 first was to the church and convent of Ecce Homo. The 
 arch of the Ecce Homo is said to be a remnant of the 
 platform on which the perfidious Pilate exhibited the 
 Savior in a red military cloak after the scourging, and 
 the crowning with thorns. It is about thirty feet high 
 and curves from the right side of the narrow street into 
 the wall of the recently built chapel of the Ratisbon 
 convent, which is only a short distance from our hospice 
 along the street running straight to St. Stephen's gate. 
 What a fearful sight it must have been for the few faith- 
 ful souls, to see our Savior standing on the high porch, 
 streaming with blood, his body only half covered by the 
 loose mantle, and his very skull pierced by the long 
 thorns of the horrid crown; and how the cry: " Crucify 
 Him, crucify Him," from the infatuated populace must 
 have resounded like echoes from deepest hell! How ter- 
 ribly the curse of his blood has descended upon the race 
 and all their children! Throughout the world they are 
 now scattered, without temple, without worship, without 
 hope of return to the land of their forefathers. Against 
 their will they are witnesses of the power of Him whom 
 they then despised. 
 
 Some rods farther along the same street, amid heaps 
 of ruins, are some very old tombs, which the Moslems 
 
 97 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 hold in high veneration. This does not mean, however, 
 that they lavish much care on the outward appearance 
 of the tombs. They are allowed to fall to ruin no less 
 than the crumbling walls around them. Going out of 
 St. Stephen's gate and crossing the Kidron, one comes 
 to a level piece of ground, paved with stone flags. One 
 of the Franciscans told us, that no doubt most interesting 
 remains will be found beneath them if once they can 
 obtain possession and start excavations on the spot. 
 On one side of this level plat rises the front wall of one of 
 the oldest churches in Jerusalem. It is the reputed tomb 
 of the Virgin Mary. The body of the church is buried 
 almost to the eaves beneath the accumulated debris. 
 From the above mentioned court, a pavement leads down 
 to a wide flight of marble stairs, descending about thirty 
 feet to the original floor of the church. The church was 
 formerly in charge of the Franciscans, but is now in the 
 hands of the Russian monks and of the Armenians. 
 
 It is seldom opened for visitors, but profiting of such 
 an occasion a few days later, we joined the crowds of 
 pilgrims, that were attending service in honor of the 
 Blessed Virgin. Half way down the stairs, in niches 
 built off a break in the descent, are the tombs of St. 
 Joachim and Anne to the right, and of St. Joseph to the 
 left. The body of the church is entirely dark, for the 
 debris outside rises higher than the windows. Only the 
 open door above and the flickering light of the candles 
 dispelled some of the darkness within. The church is 
 built in the shape of a cross, formed by caves on three 
 ends, and the stairs on the fourth. The drawling chant 
 of the Armenian priests sounded up to us from the right 
 arm of the church. Pressing through the crowd we saw 
 the red-robed priests officiating before a monument or 
 tomb. The light of candles shone from the openings of 
 this tomb and lit up the faces of the bystanders. The 
 priests had to stoop almost to the ground in order to 
 
 98 
 
Tomb of Mary. 
 
 enter through the small opening to the interior of the 
 tomb. They were chanting alternate responses with 
 the choir outside. While we wormed our way through 
 the worshipers, there was a sudden commotion in front : 
 two priests came out through the narrow opening of the 
 tomb bearing two chalices to an altar in the background. 
 One of them with a golden spoon, dealt out morsels 
 steeped in some liquid to the people. They came up 
 and stood before him with their hands dangling down 
 their sides. I did not think their way of dealing out 
 holy communion particularly reverend. The people be- 
 gan to squeeze into the narrow opening on the side of the 
 tomb and file out at the other end; we among the rest. 
 
 The interior of the tomb presents nothing remarkable, 
 except the brilliant illumination. Beneath a slab or 
 table of marble, fitting into a recess, is said to be the 
 last resting place of Mary. Here lay the sacred body of 
 the Virgin and from this spot, reunited to her immaculate 
 soul, it was assumed into heaven to be seated at the right 
 hand of her son, as Queen of the universe. What a 
 glorious sight it will be for us, if we shall once be 
 privileged to see Her in her glory! That alone would 
 be worth more than the possession and enjoyment of 
 all the rest of the created things. To the left of the 
 stairs is a well, the waters of which are held sacred. 
 This church dates back to the time of Constantine and 
 was always in possession of the Latins; but by the 
 united rapacity of the Russians, Armenians, and Copts, 
 the Franciscans have been deprived of its custody. 
 Confusion and neglect surround the tomb of the Virgin 
 in consequence. The vault of the whole interior is black 
 with soot and dirt and no attempt is made to decorate 
 in a befitting manner so sacred a place. 
 
 On the same morning I said Mass in the grotto of the 
 Agony, which is only fifty steps or so from the tomb of 
 Mary. It is a very large cave of oval shape. In the 
 
 99 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 rear stands the altar, where colored lights are maintained 
 day and night by the Franciscan brother, who is in charge. 
 On the rough rocks above are still seen the remains of 
 ancient paintings. Under this dark roof, prostrate on the 
 hard rocks, Jesus began his passion. Three times He 
 interrupted his prayers in order to console his apostles, 
 who were lying under the olive trees outside. While we 
 were there several Russian pilgrims came in. The princi- 
 pal part of their devotion seems to consist in making the 
 sign of the cross and kissing the ground or any object 
 which happens to strike their fancy. They make the 
 sign of the cross from right to left. Shaggy these men 
 and women look, with their heavy top boots and coarse 
 clothing. They are harmless in their simplicity and 
 full of happiness in being privileged to see the holy places. 
 The paternal Russian government pays most of the 
 expenses of their journey, well knowing that they are 
 but forerunners of the hundred thousands, that -will rise 
 to wrest Palestine from the hands of the Turks. No 
 doubt these Russian peasants return to their native 
 provinces as missionaries for a holy war of conquest 
 against the Turk. 
 
 The garden of Gethsemane is only some hundred 
 yards from this grotto, nearer to the torrent of Kidron. 
 The little postern gate, which we had found locked on 
 Holy Thursday night, was now opened as we knocked. 
 A gravel walk leads around along the quadrangular walls 
 and the centre of the garden is enclosed by a picket fence. 
 Stations of the cross are placed in niches of the outer wall 
 and inside the picket fence some flowerbeds filled out 
 the space between the knarled olive trees. The olive 
 trees look old enough to have been standing at the time 
 of Christ, though this is not ascertainable. A Franciscan 
 brother lives in a cell near the hothouse. He entertained 
 us with a glass of wine and gave us some flowers for 
 preservation. 
 
 ioo 
 
On Mt. Olivet. 
 
 From the garden we wound our way up the rain-worn 
 path to the top of Mount Olivet. It is the highest moun- 
 tain around Jerusalem and the summit is an almost oval 
 plateau a half mile long. The Russians own pretty well 
 the whole summit of Olivet, with the exception of a 
 cluster of ruinous Arab houses on the slope towards 
 Jerusalem. On the western end extensive walls enclose 
 a large garden and convent of Russians, and on the 
 eastern end stands the church of the Ascension, flanked 
 by a bell tower, which is very likely intended to serve as 
 a Russian observation tower in time of war. In the 
 church, Russian popes are chanting some kind of service 
 with their customary frequent use of incense. The 
 church is octagonal in form and most beautifully frescoed. 
 In spite of the high wind that was blowing, I desired to 
 climb the tower, which is about 30 feet square all the 
 way up and nearly 200 feet high. Ostensibly, it seems to 
 have been built for no other purpose than to support a 
 chime of bells. But as it stands on the highest part of 
 the country, it will serve as an observation tower for the 
 whole region. 
 
 From its top one has a vast view of the surrounding 
 country. To the west the Holy City lies spread out, the 
 bare spot of the ancient temple grounds contrasting with 
 the confused jumble of ruinous houses of the city. Beyond 
 the further wall, the Russian settlement stands out prom- 
 inently, with the great hospice and the convents as a 
 centre. On clear days Ramleh and Jaffa, on the edge 
 of the blue Mediterranean, can be seen. To the left and 
 behind the plains of Jericho, the dead sea, and farther 
 north, Moab and Harmon gleamed in the sunlight. To 
 the northeast, Carmel and Libanus girt the plain of 
 Esdrelon. As I descended the wind almost carried me 
 out of the high gothic windows, which are left entirely 
 open. The interior construction of the tower is of iron, 
 and the outside shows uncommon architectural beauty. 
 
 101 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 From the tower we passed through the village to the 
 place whence the Savior ascended into heaven. It 
 lies a little lower down the hill and is covered by an 
 octagonal mosque inside of an enclosure. The Fran- 
 ciscans are allowed to hold services within the enclosure 
 once a year on Ascension day. The mosque is small 
 and neglected, entirely bare. The ragged keeper showed 
 us a stone in the center, imbedded in the ground, or more 
 likely forming part of the natural rock. On this stone 
 were the impressions of two feet, which are said to have 
 been left by Christ as he ascended into heaven. I found, 
 however, very little resemblance of footprints in the 
 indentures; perhaps the marks have become disfigured 
 in the course of centuries or through the vandalism of 
 pilgrims. There is nothing unreasonable or improbable 
 in the assertion, that such marks have been left by the 
 Savior and by holy men on particular occasions, though 
 sometimes superstition and the hope of gain will give 
 rise to spurious fabrication of marks of the kind. 
 
 Descending on the road to the left, we passed the 
 caves where St. Pelagia did penance for many years. 
 Further on is the church of the Pater Noster and 
 Credo, with the convent of the Carmelite nuns, where 
 Jesus wept over the reprobate city. The Temple 
 grounds are in full view and the city lies spread out 
 beyond them. Beneath us, skirting the declivities of 
 the city walls, gaped the valley of Josaphat, and merging 
 into the valley of Hinom to the left. Far below on the 
 banks of the Kidron rose Absalom's tomb. We de- 
 scended to the brook and clambered up through the 
 rugged cavities of the monument. It seems to have 
 been cut out entirely from the native rock. The lower 
 part is in the. shape of a square kiosk, surmounted by a 
 bottle-shaped top. It must be fully sixty feet high. No 
 sort of care is taken of it, and the interior is full of 
 crumbling stones. Aside of it is the tomb of St. James, 
 
 102 
 
R AMBLINGS. 
 
 also hewn out of the rock in the form of a small Greek 
 temple. Ascending the other side of the Kidron, we 
 came to the city walls, where some of the original stones 
 of the temple of Solomon are still visible. Moslem 
 graves cover nearly the whole declivity of the mountain 
 along the city walls. Among these graves we stumbled, 
 following the walls to St. Stephen's gate. x\t the hospice 
 all was bustle and excitement to prepare for the arrival 
 of 522 Austrian pilgrims from the diocese of Linz. The 
 largest portion of these, with Bishop Doppelbauer at 
 their head, were to lodge at our hospice. 
 
 In the afternoon our search for mail brought us again 
 near the Jaffa gate. Mail service in the Turkish domin- 
 ions is something very uncertain and therefore the 
 Austrian, the English, and the German governments 
 maintain separate post offices in Jerusalem, which insure 
 some kind of safety, (though not any great expedition) 
 to the mail from foreign countries. I had to wait three 
 weeks after getting my letter of instruction, before I 
 could obtain the payment of a money order in the Aus- 
 trian post office. 
 
 I wished to visit Father Schwarzer, who by this time 
 must have returned from Haipha. In order to reach 
 St. Peter's institute for boys, of which he was in charge, 
 we crossed the Mohammedan graveyards around the 
 birket Mamilla, or tank of Solomon. This is an immense 
 square reservoir, hewn thirty feet into the solid rock. 
 It is now dried out. In this neighborhood the angel of 
 God struck down 185,000 of Sennacherib's besieging 
 army. Beyond, on a gently sloping hill, lies St. Peter's 
 Institute. The father was glad to see me and returned 
 to me the articles and the money which I had given in 
 his keeping at Haipha. The classes and workshops of 
 the boys were closed, it being a holiday ; but we saw the 
 interior of the extensive buildings and admired the 
 beauty of the chapel. This is one of the several grand 
 
 103 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 institutions, which Ratisbonne founded after his mir- 
 aculous conversion in Rome. 
 
 Diverting on our return toward the Damascus gate, 
 we came upon the grand basilica of the Dominicans. 
 It is reared on the foundations of an ancient church in 
 honor of St. Stephen. Twenty feet of rubbish had to be 
 cleared away in order to bring to the light of day the 
 curious mosaics of the original floor. Parts of these are 
 incorporated with the fine mosaics of the present pave- 
 ment. In the middle of the basilica a crypt is restored, 
 which probably once contained the relics of St. Stephen. 
 A number of the doric pillars rest upon the original 
 pedestals. This church is no doubt the finest and the 
 most costly in Jerusalem. 
 
 Not far from this church are the remarkable exca- 
 vations called the tombs of the kings. They are a reg- 
 ular city of the dead, carved thirty feet deep out of the 
 solid rocks. A wide stairs led down to two different 
 divisions. The first one is filled about half with water, 
 the other compartment is honeycombed on one of its 
 four sides with small cells, which formerly contained 
 the sarcophagi of the kings. In some of them the 
 sarcophagi are still standing, rifled however, of their 
 contents. Thus the ashes of the kings, that tried to 
 hide themselves away after death, have been scattered 
 to the winds, while thousands of their more humble 
 subjects are still resting in their graves undisturbed. 
 Returning through the dusk, we were curious to know 
 more of a fine church and parsonage, which we had 
 noticed on the way out. Many well dressed Europeans 
 had just come out of the building. We found out from 
 the attendant, that it was the Protestant Episcopal church, 
 and presided over by Bishop Cheney. He had just given 
 confirmation to a number of young people. The interior 
 was finely decorated, but there was nothing in it which 
 could be venerated as sacred, as in Catholic churches. 
 
 104 
 
Austrian Pilgrims. 
 
 The vast grotto of Jeremias is some hundreds of yards 
 eastward of the Damascus gate. The Moslem in charge 
 showed us the stone ledge, which Jeremias used at a 
 couch. The large cavern in the side of the hill, at even 
 ground with the entrance, is connected by a passage to 
 the left with another cave underground, in which Jere- 
 mias w r as imprisoned. It is now filled with water: a 
 stone thrown into it resounded with a hollow splash, 
 which gloomily reverberated through the subterranean 
 darkness. 
 
 When we came to the hospice the Austrian pilgrims 
 had arrived. During their stay we were placed at the 
 table opposite to the bishop, who is a very affable man. 
 The Rev. Rector Czarski had assigned us a room next 
 to his own, and w^e w T ere scarcely inconvenienced by the 
 great crowds that now filled every available space of the 
 building. For the following morning we had made 
 arrangements for our trip to Jericho and the Dead Sea. 
 
 105 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Surrounded by Lepers — A Howling Wilderness — 
 To the Dead Sea — A Plunge in the Jordan — 
 In the Clefts of Quarantanla. — Greek Hos- 
 pitality — Robbers' Inn and Bethany — With 
 the Austrian Pilgrims — In the Cenacle — 
 Unsaddled. 
 
 A burly Arab driver by the name of Mahomet had 
 charge of the carriage in which we made our trip to 
 Jericho. Noisily the wheels rattled over the cobbles to 
 St. Stephen's gate. A bevy of lepers were sitting and 
 lying in the bright sunshine along the road as we moved 
 down the hill to the Kidron bridge. We threw some of 
 them a few metaliques. No sooner had those farther 
 behind and ahead seen this, than a howl rose from their 
 midst. Those that were able to move surrounded the 
 carriage, stretching out their leprous hands, and some 
 of them even grasping hold of our garments in order to 
 obtain an equal share of the alms. Mahomet uncere- 
 moniously threatened them with his whip before he 
 could drive through their midst and escape. The 
 macadam road, built in honor of the German Emperor's 
 visit to Jericho, leads around the south side of Mount 
 Olivet to the ruins of Bethany, down the deep ravine 
 to the Apostles' fountain, and some six miles farther to 
 the government khan of the good Samaritan. It will be 
 more convenient to speak of them later on. 
 
 All this country from Bethany to the plains of Jericho 
 is a howling wilderness. No spring or any kind of 
 stream is found from the Apostles' well to the Nahr-el- 
 Kelt, about three miles beyond the khan of the good 
 
 107 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 Samaritan. The Nahr-el-Kelt is a ravine, eaten through 
 the rocks by a small stream which takes its rise near the 
 road. It is the most rugged ravine I had yet seen, sur- 
 passing even the wild gulches of the Wasatch mountains 
 in Utah. Sheerly down through the broken granite 
 rocks the slender stream leaps from ledge to ledge, having 
 formed for itself a mere cleft through the mountains to 
 the plains of Jericho. About a mile from where we 
 stood, a monastery is built on the ledges of the ravine, 
 three or four hundred feet above the bottom. The 
 buildings were mere stone huts, leaning against the cliffs, 
 and they seemed altogether inaccessible. They are 
 tenanted by Russian monks. 
 
 A mile farther on brought us to the edge of the 
 mountains. The road here makes a steep and dan- 
 gerous descent to the plains of Jericho. In the ruined 
 village of Jericho, there are three lodging-houses, all 
 bitter rivals. Mahomet seemed to stand in with the 
 young man who runs the Gilgal hotel, and we did not 
 object to his bringing us there for our dinner and lodging. 
 The slopes running up from the Dead sea and the Jordan 
 are entirely barren, except where the ground is irrigated 
 by the fountain of Elisha. 
 
 In the afternoon Mahomet drove helter skelter over 
 these plains to the Dead sea, raising clouds of dust. 
 The nearer we came to the sea, the more arid and dusty 
 grew the roads and the country around. The Dead sea 
 looks like any other lake from afar. The waters are 
 grayish blue, and perfectly clear. On the farther side 
 the mountains of Moab rise like a wall of bare rocks, 
 while to the south only a blue ridge is dimly visible above 
 the glittering waters. Being alone we took a bath. The 
 water is so heavy that it is impossible to sink. Lying 
 flat, half the body is always out of the water. But if the 
 feet are raised, the head immediately sinks beneath the 
 surface and the brine will enter the nose and mouth. 
 
 108 
 
The Jordan. 
 
 The skin is coated with salt in a short time ; this causes a 
 disagreeable sensation, unless it is washed off with fresh 
 water. Just as we had partly dressed, another carriage 
 came up with a Greek papa and a woman. Without 
 much ado the papa undressed, leaving the woman in the 
 carriage within a few steps of the shore. He made great 
 ado in the shallow water before he plunged in to swim. 
 
 About three miles in a northeasterly direction is the 
 place where the Israelites crossed the Jordan. Only 
 scattered sage brushes are met with along the road before 
 reaching the Jordan. There a species of tamarack and 
 poplar forms thick bushes on the banks of the river. The 
 river banks are very muddy. I sank into the mud to my 
 knees, while bathing. The river is about forty yards 
 wide, very deep, muddy, and swift running. Very often 
 careless bathers meet their death in this place. Again 
 the Greek papa came up with the lady, and stripped to 
 take a plunge. Afterwards we hired a boatman to take 
 us a little distance up the river. I was sorry not to be 
 able to extend this boatride up to Lake Genesareth, and 
 hoped I could do so on a future occasion. The short 
 distance was exceedingly romantic. What a wall of 
 water must have gathered to the north of this place, 
 when the Jordan stood still, until the vast host of the 
 Israelites had crossed, and how^ the waters must have 
 rushed down again into the dry 7 bed, when this was 
 accomplished! 
 
 Driving home as the sun sank over the western hills, 
 we met some shepherds and some reapers. The latter 
 carried huge sheaves of grain home on their backs, re- 
 minding us of the words of the psalmist: "Venientes 
 autem venient cum exultatione, portantes manipulas 
 suos." We forded the Nahr-el-Kelt, which we had ad- 
 mired in the morning among the hills. In this neigh- 
 borhood the Israelites encamped after crossing the 
 Jordan, but nothing remains of Gilgal, and the memorial 
 
 109 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 of twelve stones, which they set up. A large Russian 
 convent, that of St. John, lies to the left at a few miles 
 distance. Robbers infest these plains, for a young Ger- 
 man, who stopped at our hotel, told me that he had two 
 horses stolen from him on the plains of Jericho by 
 marauding Arabs. Arriving at the hotel, we were sur- 
 prised to see the Greek papa with his fair young lady 
 sitting at table with us. Next morning before sunrise 
 we drummed up the unwilling Mahomet to take us to 
 Elisha's or Sultan's fountain, not far from Quarantine 
 Mount. Its water runs close by Jericho and causes a 
 streak of rich vegetation to spring up along its course. 
 Flowering rhododendron lined the road in some places, 
 and reminded us of balmy spring mornings of other 
 countries. The abundant stream of pure water collects 
 in a reservoir, from which it is branched off in different 
 conduits to water the fields on the slopes. Ever since 
 Eliseus changed its unwholesome water three thousand 
 years ago, it has poured out refreshing streams over 
 the arid plains of Jericho. The first rays of the sun 
 rising over Moab, tinged the summit of Quarantania 
 and the Greek convent leaning against the red rocks 
 about midway up the declivities. The summit of this, 
 the highest and most rugged of the Judean mountains, 
 is now crowned by an irregular wall, enclosing the spot 
 of the third temptation of Christ. In spite of the unwil- 
 lingness of Mahomet to wait, we began our ascent. A 
 stream traverses the foothills in the foreground, and in 
 some valleys herds were grazing, and a few field laborers 
 were already at work. Ruins of ancient Jericho are yet 
 traceable on some of the foothills. At the foot of the 
 mountain stands a house surrounded by gardens. It 
 belongs to the monastery on the mount, and furnishes 
 vegetables for the community. From here a very steep, 
 zigzag trail leads up to the monastery, which seems liter- 
 ally suspended from the ledges of the rocks. 
 
 no 
 
QUARANTANIA. 
 
 Panting from the exertion of the steep climb, we 
 arrived at the rude door or gate and were admitted by 
 the porter, who is on the watch for visitors. He treated 
 us with arrack and a delicious cup of mocha. The nar- 
 row cells of the monks are mere cave abutments hewn 
 into rocky walls of the mountain. A guide led us through 
 narrow passages to the cave in which Jesus is said to 
 have fasted for forty days. Beneath this cave is a larger 
 one in which Elias lived for a while. It is almost inac- 
 cessible except by ladders or ropes. The long-haired 
 Greek produced a ponderous key to open a gate, which 
 gives access to the continuation of the path up to the 
 summit. This has been enclosed recently by a stone wall ; 
 but there is nothing to mark the spot of the third temp- 
 tation except a rude shed, and near it a large cross. The 
 plains of Jericho and the valley of the Jordan lay now 
 in full view beneath. Where the Jordan wound its way 
 through the valley there is a streak of beautiful green, 
 contrasting with the arid waste of the plain. The sun 
 had risen high toward the zenith, and shot down burning 
 rays as we climbed down again to reach the carriage. 
 We wanted to return to Jerusalem that day. Ma- 
 homet at first strenuously refused. The horses would 
 not stand the exertion, he said. I suspect he merely 
 wanted to play into the hands of the hotel-keeper by 
 lengthening our stay. We had already resigned our- 
 selves and were about to lie down for a siesta, when our 
 offer of an extra bakshish had done its work. He now 
 urged us to return to Jerusalem. His previous objec- 
 tions, however, were not all unfounded, for the mid-day 
 heat, reflected from the rocks, almost overcame man 
 and beast, as we climbed afoot up the first ascent to the 
 Judean mountains. Mahomet made a stop of over an 
 hour at the khan of the good Samaritan. This is an 
 enclosure of about an acre for beasts of burden, with a 
 rude shack for the accommodation of travelers. It is 
 
 in 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 maintained by the government, but the only refresh- 
 ment to be had in these khans is a cup of coffee. The 
 country ten miles around is a howling wilderness of 
 rocky mountains, an ideal place for such an incident as 
 is related in the parable of the good Samaritan. On 
 the hill behind the khan the ruins of an old fort can be 
 seen. 
 
 We did not stop at the Apostles' inn, which is merely 
 a small house inhabited by some enterprising native 
 near a brackish fountain not far from Bethany. In 
 this neighborhood the apostles are said to have often 
 met after the Ascension of Christ. Bethany is scarcely 
 two miles farther along the road,, pretty well up on the 
 east side of Mount Olivet. A ragged .Arab is always on 
 the lookout for strangers, to show them the tomb of Laz- 
 arus and the ruins of Lazarus' and Simon's house. He 
 gave us some dirt}' candle stumps and preceded us down 
 the series of caves, which form the tomb. Not the least 
 sign of care or veneration is to be seen. Heaps of dirt 
 and rubbish cover the stairs and the bottom of the caves. 
 The tomb itself, from which Lazarus was called forth, 
 is full of filth. We left disgusted, to have a look at the 
 site of the two houses mentioned above. They are now 
 covered with the nuns of chapels, probably built by the 
 crusaders. Having reached St. Stephen's gate, Ma- 
 homet rattled in great style over the broken pavement 
 to the hospice. When we alighted I found that I had 
 lost my notebook on the way. Though I made even- 
 effort to recover it, I never saw it any more. However, 
 as its contents covered only a short period of my journey, 
 I replaced it pretty well with a synopsis from memory. 
 
 We were just in time to accompany the Austrian pil- 
 grims on their visit to Mount Sion. Our first stop was 
 made at the large .Armenian convents and gardens, only 
 a short distance beyond the tower of David. The 
 fumes of incense filled the large church of St. James, 
 
 112 
 
With the Austriaxs. 
 
 which is built on the spot where he was decapitated. It 
 is profusely decorated with tiles of different colors, and 
 the altars and cornices are richly gilded. But there is 
 not much taste either in the coloring nor the decoration 
 of any church in the hands of the Oriental Christians. 
 Real art after all seems to flourish only where the Cath- 
 olic church has laid its foundations, and where European 
 influence has been brought to bear. After crossing 
 several paved courts and lanes, we were shown the house 
 of Annas, or rather the church erected upon its site. 
 Here also the Armenian monks were just finishing their 
 services. To the right of the altar they showed a bare 
 niche in the wall in which they claimed Jesus was im- 
 prisoned during the night of his trial. Leaving these 
 places, one of the Austrian priests reproached some of 
 the laymen for venerating and kissing the places shown 
 them by the .Armenian monks. I loudly protested 
 against his overscrupulousness, maintaining that it is 
 not so much a question of the authenticity of the place, 
 as of the sacred memory connected with it. 
 
 We left the Armenian enclosures, which seem to be 
 the most extensive of all those owned by the different 
 divisions of Christians, and proceeded through the 
 gate of Sion to the Ccenaculum. We were cautioned by 
 the guides not to perform any exterior acts of devotion, 
 as the Moslems would make trouble if we did. The 
 pilgrims were not even to go up into the little room 
 where on a former occasion I had seen the bogus tomb 
 of David. Thus the barbaric Turk lords it over the 
 Christians! 
 
 Early in the morning after Mass we mounted a pair of 
 asses to ride in the fresh morning air to Bethany. I 
 had some hopes of finding my notebook in the cave of 
 Lazarus. Our search there was in vain, but the old 
 Moslem guide told me that about a hundred French pil- 
 grims had visited the cave yesterday after we had been 
 
 "3 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 there. I fondly hoped that I might receive it from one 
 of them later on. But in order not to leave any stone un- 
 turned for its recovery, I decided to go as far as the khan 
 of the good Samaritan. So I pursued my way to that 
 place alone, and might have fared just as bad as the 
 wounded man in the parable on this lonely way, if the 
 robbers had only performed their part of the business. 
 Some way or other, however, we missed connections. 
 No trace of the robbers nor of the notebook. 
 
 It seems my mule wanted to make up for the loss of 
 incident by an extra display of mulishness. On the 
 way back he began to fall into a snail's pace. Neither 
 the urgings of an impatient tongue, nor the spurring of 
 the heel, or the swishing of the whip would he mind. 
 He insisted on taking the outermost edge of the road, 
 threatening to throw me over the precipice, or, when 
 jerked away, he scraped my knee against the sharp pro- 
 jections of the overhanging rocks on the other side of the 
 road. Then again he would suddenly duck his head and 
 rub his nose against the dusty roadway, almost throwing 
 me over his shoulder. Finally he reached the climax by 
 flopping down with rider and all on the dusty road-bed 
 and refusing to get up in spite of whip and spur. For 
 some time I stood at his side in the mid-day heat per- 
 fectly at a loss. The recumbent beast kept wagging 
 his ears in the most nonchalant manner. But there is 
 nothing like a bluff, especially in Turkey, and as an 
 American I thought I would try it on a mule. Going 
 back about twenty paces I spread out my haik and 
 shouting an Indian warwhoop, I rushed upon him with 
 a running jump. Before I landed on his haunches, he 
 had jumped up as if struck by lightning, and, facing 
 around, stared at me with wagging ears. The bluff 
 had worked like a charm. 
 
 Doggedly he moved on until we reached a turn in the 
 road. A small distance ahead I saw a dilapidated 
 
 114 
 
MULISHNESS. 
 
 brother of his lying right in the middle of the road. My 
 mule must have been so busy scheming new rebellion 
 that he did not see his brother ass until he was only a 
 step from him. The other made a feeble effort to rise. 
 Like a blast of gunpowder, mine made a jump into the 
 air, and I, taken unawares, flew into space and landed 
 helter-skelter on the dusty road. He himself stood about 
 five paces away, cocking his ears at his crippled brother. 
 I must have been quite a ludicrous sight in the black haik, 
 streaked with the chalky dust of the road. My long- 
 eared companion seemed to feel himself sufficiently 
 revenged in bringing me to the dust, and without further 
 violence finally brought me home. 
 
 "5 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Pilgrims' Soxg — St. Peter's Memory among 
 Protestants — Ain Karem and Surroundings 
 
 — Golgotha and Environs — Its Complex of 
 Churches — The Rotunda over the Sepulchre 
 
 — Catholic and Greek Church Near It — 
 Subterranean Chapels — Chapel of the Cru- 
 cifixion AND OF THE DEATH OF CHRIST. 
 
 I shall never forget the solemn song of the Austrian 
 pilgrims making the Via Dolorosa that evening. I 
 was sitting at the open window and their song echoed 
 along the street outside, suggesting oceans of sorrow. 
 It brought vividly to my mind the song of the pilgrims 
 in the opera of "Die Meistersaenger." I wondered at 
 the similarity of the impressions caused by the fiction 
 in the past and the reality in the present. 
 
 The only sacred place which the English-speaking 
 Protestants seem to possess in Jerusalem is the prison 
 where St. Peter was detained by Herod. It belongs to 
 the English mission in the Jewish quarter of Jerusalem. 
 Under one of the buildings, which they use as a printing 
 establishment, is a cellar or vault where the staples are 
 still shown to which the chains of St. Peter, now in Rome, 
 were fastened. This, according to Catholic notions, 
 would be a place well worth keeping in sacred memory. 
 I expected to see some signs of veneration in it, but was 
 sadly disappointed. In the time of the crusaders there 
 was a chapel built over it. In the hands of the Pro- 
 testants it is turned into a cellar for vegetables. The 
 irons, which once held St. Peter, are now covered with 
 the remains of decaying vegetables, and the other parts 
 
 117 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 of the prison adjoining are used for a wood-shed. A 
 Moslem is too lazy to keep sacred places free from dirt, 
 and his religion does not allow him any profuse decora- 
 tions, but he will never permit such a place to be put to 
 profane use, and he will make you take off your shoes 
 before entering. No such regard is paid by the English 
 Protestant. St. Peter was no war hero or great states- 
 man of theirs. In Cawnpore, they have built a grand 
 monument over the well in which some of the victims 
 of their war of conquest were thrown. They made us 
 talk in a whisper in the park surrounding it. Thousands 
 of places are adorned with monuments and memorial 
 churches, and consume millions yearly in their preser- 
 vation. Here in Jerusalem the English Protestants 
 happen to be in possession of just one place of sacred 
 memory, and this they leave in a most shameful condi- 
 tion of neglect. I say this in no bitterness, but only in 
 order to give vent to my feeling of regret that Saint 
 Peter's memory should be thus loaded with insult. Do 
 Protestants owe nothing to Saint Peter, the head of the 
 apostles ? 
 
 In the morning of the last Sunday of our stay in 
 Jerusalem, Mahomet, our favorite driver, stood ready 
 with his carriage in order to take us out to Ain Karem, 
 the birthplace of St. John and the scene of the visitation 
 of the Blessed Virgin. Lustily he rattled on to the gate 
 of Damascus, scattering the laggard foot-passengers to 
 right and left. A few miles out the scenery becomes 
 quite pleasing, especially toward the valley that runs in 
 the direction of Bethlehem. The road winds down the 
 hillside, supported by a high embankment, and Ain 
 Karem presented a very cheerful sight, with its neat 
 houses, its eight or ten churches, some of them over- 
 topped by high steeples. On the spot where Mary first 
 met Elizabeth on her visit, the Franciscans are in charge 
 of a fine church and monastery. High mass was going 
 
 118 
 
Ain Karem. 
 
 on when we entered. At the end a procession with 
 the blessed Sacrament was held, in which the natives 
 joined, singing the Te Deum in Arabic. To the left of 
 the high altar is the crypt and sanctuary, the meeting 
 place of the Mother of God with her cousin Elizabeth. 
 Here for the first time resounded the sublimest of all 
 anthems, the Magnificat, and from that blessed tongue, 
 which also first made our Salvation secure by accepting 
 the proposals of the heavenly father. 
 
 Farther down in the valley the road passes a pictur- 
 esque fountain that sends forth an abundant stream. 
 Beyond, on the opposite hill, a new chapel and convent 
 is built upon the excavated walls of older structures, 
 marking the birthplace of St. John. Next to the altar 
 in the chapel is the well of St. Elizabeth, of miraculous 
 origin, and, in an opening in the wall to the right, a small 
 cave is shown as the hiding place of St. John and his 
 mother during the slaughter of the innocents by Herod. 
 The cliffs overhanging the convent are honeycombed by 
 old burying places. Some of them, now sealed up again, 
 contain the remains of recently deceased Franciscans. 
 Ain Karem itself does not make the woebegone im- 
 pression which many of the other places of Palestine 
 invariably make upon the visitor. Most of the inhab- 
 itants are Christians, as in Bethlehem and Nazareth. 
 Our visit to this place w r as one of the most enjoyable in 
 Palestine. 
 
 The most remarkable place in Jerusalem and, for 
 that matter, in the whole world, will always remain the 
 Holy Sepulchre. Of course we visited this place often 
 during our stay of a month, but we spent one day in mak- 
 ing a thorough inspection of the extensive buildings 
 connected with it. The church of the Holy Sepulchre 
 is on the hill to the north of Mount Sion. At the time 
 of Christ this hill was outside the then existing walls of 
 the city. In later times the present walls were built in 
 
 n 9 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 a wide sweep around the hill of Golgotha, thus mak- 
 ing it part of the city. The new addition to the city- 
 was densely populated and the present church, though 
 built on a hill, is almost hidden in a cluster of the 
 other high buildings. It is well known that the church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre is really a group of churches 
 and chapels, which form one whole, covering both the 
 burial place of our Lord and the hill on which he was 
 crucified. That is easily possible, since they are only 
 about a hundred feet apart. Golgotha was only a small 
 hillock, and may be called a part of Mt. Sion. At its foot 
 and into the rocky sides of the hill Joseph of Arimathea 
 had built a sepulchre for himself, into which he helped to 
 place the Savior with his own hand. St. Helena, the 
 mother of the Emperor Constantine, before she built 
 the church over the grave, leveled the rocks around it, 
 cutting away also a large portion of the rock of Golgotha. 
 Thus a level space of about seventy feet in diameter 
 was created, on which the great rotunda of the church 
 now stands. She even went so far as to cut away the 
 vestibule of the original tomb, leaving only a sort of 
 shell, which to this day vaults over the resting place of 
 Jesus. The whole of this is covered by a marble struc- 
 ture about fifteen feet long and ten wide, surmounted 
 by a Byzantine cupola. The whole monument is prob- 
 ably not over twenty feet high. In the front, a small 
 door opens into a sort of vestibule, which is called the 
 Chapel of the Angel; for here the angel sat upon a 
 stone when the pious women paid their visit to the grave. 
 In the rear of this vestibule there is a hole in the monu- 
 ment so narrow that only an ordinary sized person could 
 squeeze through, and so low that only a child of ten 
 years could enter in upright position. This aperture 
 gives admission to the real tomb of our Lord. However, 
 nothing of it can be seen except the bare rocks above, 
 all black from the smoke of the lamps, and a marble slab 
 
 120 
 
The Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 about six feet long and two broad, which forms an altar- 
 table across the niche in the wall. Beneath this slab is 
 the native rock, chiseled out for a resting place of the 
 human body. There lay the sacred body of Christ until 
 the third day. Above the altar-table are some rich 
 ornaments, and several lamps of precious metal. On 
 that marble slab, just above the spot where the divine 
 Savior rested in death, I celebrated holy mass in Easter 
 week, as I have already mentioned. In the narrow 
 vault, perhaps not more than five or six persons would 
 find room to stand. The Greeks have cut holes through 
 the rock on top in order to give egress to the smoke of 
 the perpetual lamps. They have also cut an oval hole 
 into each side of the vestibule or chapel of the angel in 
 order to hand out their sacred fire on Holy Saturday. 
 The Russian people are made to believe that the fire 
 descends direct from heaven on Easter night. 
 
 Above the sepulchral monument the great rotunda 
 of the church rises to a height of over a hundred and 
 fifty feet. The pillars or ribs of the rotunda rise straight 
 to the curve and then all unite in the centre of the 
 cupola. The architecture is Byzantine and the rotunda 
 is common ground for all the different denominations 
 of Christians; but the hours during w T hich services may 
 be held in the Sepulchre are strictly regulated. On 
 the outside, to the rear part of the monument, is 
 attached the altar of the Copts. The spaces between 
 the pillars and the outside wall of the rotunda form a 
 circular row of chapels belonging to different denom- 
 inations. One of them, opposite the Coptic altar, is 
 held as a chapel for the Syrians, and in a recess of that 
 chapel is the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. 
 
 In order that the reader may obtain some idea of 
 the location of the other important points of the great 
 church, let him start with me from the Austrian hospice 
 on a tour of exploration. Coming up from the hospice, 
 
 121 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 and passing the remains of the old city gate built before 
 the time of Christ, we happen upon one of the most 
 lively bazaar streets of Jerusalem. It winds somewhat 
 around the foot of the hill of Golgotha. At the next 
 corner we will turn to the right about one hundred and 
 fifty paces. We have been going up hill a little and 
 skirted Golgotha on its east and south side. Now we 
 stand before a narrow entrance to a court paved with 
 flag-stones, and opposite to us is the portal of a church. 
 Nothing is seen of this church except the facade, like 
 a ruin among ruins. On each side of us old convent 
 buildings hide the rest of the church and form the limits 
 of the courtyard. Entering the portals of the facade 
 we pass a bevy of Turkish soldiers lying on a rug-covered 
 platform to our left. 
 
 Ahead of us we see a jumble of pillars; to the right of 
 them there seems to be a chapel raised about twenty-five 
 feet above our standing ground. This is the summit of 
 Golgotha, which has been cut into a cubic form. We 
 walk straight ahead for ten steps and stand before a large 
 stone slab, surrounded by a railing. The pilgrims 
 kneel down and kiss it, for it is the stone on which the 
 body of Christ was anointed for burial. To our left, 
 ahead of us, between two of the great pillars of the 
 rotunda, our eyes are caught by the gleam of many lights. 
 They are the lights of the Holy Sepulchre. Around the 
 Sepulchre is a free circular space over which rises the 
 rotunda. There are sixteen of the pillars, but they do 
 not complete the circle. The whole width of the rotunda, 
 opposite the entrance of the Sepulchre, forms a high and 
 sweeping arch, opening into a large church now in 
 possession of the Russians or Greeks. If we pass on to 
 the left around the tomb, that is, on the side which is 
 opposite to the Russian church, we pass between the 
 Coptic altar and the Syrian chapel. Following the 
 circle around so as to complete a half circuit, we see 
 
 122 
 
Sacred Shrines. 
 
 behind the pillars an altar to the right. It is the place 
 where our Lord appeared to Magdalen as she stood 
 weeping. 
 
 But we must look farther in that direction, for there 
 is a door a few steps beyond that altar, and it seems to 
 open into a chapel. So it does: as we enter we see the 
 familiar decorations and arrangements of Catholic 
 churches. The richly decorated altar in the middle 
 commemorates the spot where the risen Savior appeared 
 to the women; the one to the right contains, behind a 
 screen, the column of the flagellation, the one to the left 
 contains other relics. Adjoining this chapel is the dwell- 
 ing of the Franciscans, who attend to the service and 
 are imprisoned there during the night. 
 
 Now we must return again to the rotunda and con- 
 tinue our circuit. Immediately in front of the Sepulchre, 
 as already mentioned, is the entrance to the Russian 
 church, which is the largest of the chapels and the most 
 beautifully decorated of the whole complex of buildings. 
 On the mosaic pavement, in the centre, a stone, in the 
 shape of a knob, projects. Russian pilgrims are con- 
 tinually kneeling down beside it to cover it with kisses, 
 for their papas tell them that it is the navel of the whole 
 world. In front rises the magnificent iconostasis, hiding 
 the inner sanctuary. The iconostasis in Greek churches 
 is a partition to conceal the sanctuary and the priest dur- 
 ing some parts of the mass. In the middle of it is an 
 arched door, through which, when open, the altar is 
 seen ; on each side of this door are ornaments ; above it is 
 generally the picture of the Virgin, and on each side of 
 this picture are the paintings of four saints. Running 
 along the walls, on each side of the main body of this 
 church, are stalls or partitioned seats for the monks. 
 The walls and ceilings above them are beautifully fres- 
 coed, though of course in Byzantine style. Behind the 
 iconostasis, precious metal and jeweled mosaics glitter 
 
 123 
 
O'er Oceans axd Coxtixexts. 
 
 in profusion on the altar and on the walls. Behind the 
 altar is the magnificent throne of the Greek patriarch. 
 
 We can pass out of the sanctuary of the Greek or 
 Russian church through a small door on the left. We 
 are then in the open passageway between the church and 
 an old convent, between which two mighty and shapeless 
 pillars support the roof above. In front of us to the 
 right, thirty steps ahead, a dark recess in the corner of 
 the wall, contains an altar. It is the cave into which 
 Jesus was thrown, while the executioners prepared the 
 cross. We come back almost to the door of the Greek 
 sanctuary' and enter a passage leading behind it. In 
 niches to the left is the altar of Longinus and of the 
 division of the garments of Christ. Farther on we enter 
 an underground passage to our left, and in the dim 
 background of the expanding cavern, we see the flicker- 
 ing light of candles. They are burning on the altars about 
 thirty feet away from us in the chapel of St. Helena. On 
 descending about forty- steps hewn down into the rock, 
 we find it to be a very roomy cave, but entirely bare and 
 neglected except for three rude altars. The chapel 
 belongs to the Armenians. The candles have probably 
 been placed there by some devout pilgrims of a different 
 denomination. But some faint glimmer of lighted 
 candles seems to come from the rear right-hand corner. 
 Accordingly we descend through the narrow passage on 
 twenty more rough steps, and arrive in a small cave, 
 where likewise candles are burning on a rude altar. 
 This is the cave where the true cross was found with the 
 crosses of the two thieves. It belongs to the Latins. 
 The rock is left in its natural condition, and is all black- 
 ened with smoke. 
 
 On leaving these caves and returning up the two stairs, 
 we land again in the passage behind the Greek church 
 and continuing around the rear of its sanctuary we pass a 
 niche to our left containing the altar of the Column of 
 
 124 
 
Chapel of Adam. 
 
 Mockery. Only a few steps farther a narrow stone 
 stairs leads down into some chambers, which have been 
 dug out under the very hill of Calvary, and are used by 
 the Greek monks. Only about thirty feet farther in the 
 passage (having walked completely around the rear of 
 the sanctuary of the Greek church) we come to a narrow 
 stairway, which seems to lead up about twenty feet along 
 what seems a wall. This wall is nothing else than the 
 natural rock of Calvary, the slope of which has been thus 
 cut down perpendicularly by St. Helena. Above the 
 edge of it the pillars of a chapel rise, and we can see the 
 decorations on the ceiling about thirty feet from our 
 floor. If we wish, we can climb these stairs (which 
 belong to the Greeks) and see the chapels on Golgotha, 
 but we prefer first to pass around these stairs to the left, 
 and come to a door in the face of the rocky wall. It 
 leads into the chapel of Adam. Tradition says, that in 
 a cave immediately under the cross of our Savior, the 
 bones of Adam w r ere found. The Greeks have made a 
 chapel of it. Around it are also some other chambers, 
 where if you pry about, the Greek papas will soon give 
 you to understand that you are not wanted. Within 
 this chapel you stand almost beneath the exact spot 
 where Jesus expired on the cross. 
 
 But come out, for the papas are scowling at you even 
 more than in other portions of the building. They know 
 that they have nothing to expect of such unorthodox 
 Christians as we are. Outside the door we continue our 
 way, and find a stone stairs winding upward in an angle 
 formed by the wall of Calvary 7 and that of the vestibule. 
 We might as well ascend the stairs ; it is the Latin one, 
 leading up to Golgotha. As we reach the top we see two 
 chapels, divided only by two pillars running lengthwise 
 between them. The one in which the stairs end is the 
 Latin chapel of the crucifixion; the other to our left is 
 the Greek chapel of the death of Christ. In the first one, 
 
 125 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 immediately in front of us, the mosaic pavement shows 
 the figure of a cross ; there Jesus lay stretched out on the 
 real cross, and while He was being nailed to it by three 
 long spikes driven through hands and feet. It was done 
 in such a cruel manner that all the joints of His arms 
 and limbs were dislocated. Imagine how that gang of 
 executioners must have pulled and tugged at those un- 
 resisting limbs in order to wrench them so far apart. 
 Remember also, if you like, that it was done for your 
 benefit and mine. In front is the altar, which commem- 
 orates this dreadful nailing to the cross. Aside of it, 
 to the left, is a smaller altar with the statue of the Mater 
 Dolorosa; there Mary stood, when the quivering limbs 
 of Jesus were being nailed to the cross, and there she 
 stood during the three hours, while He hung upon it in 
 agony. Who is so stony-hearted as not to be moved by 
 the woe of such a Mother! 
 
 But we pass between the pillar and this statue to our 
 left to the chapel of the death of Christ. The Greeks are 
 jealously watching our motions, as we stand before the 
 altar. A lifesize silver crucifix is fixed into the native 
 rock at our feet. Costly lamps and candlesticks and 
 the statue of the holy women on each side adorn the 
 altar. From the ceiling is suspended a magnificent 
 hanging lamp, in which colored lights are burning. A 
 portion of the bare rock immediately around the cross is 
 uncovered, and about three feet from the foot is the open- 
 ing of a large crack in the rock, which originated at the 
 death of Christ. At the moment of his death the earth 
 shook in her foundations, the rock of Calvary split 
 between the cross of Christ and that of the impenitent 
 thief, and the dead arose from their graves. How these 
 happenings must have frightened the inhabitants of 
 Jerusalem! Yet what happened then is only a slight 
 foreshadowing of the terrors that will invade the earth 
 on the last day. At that time God wished only to warn 
 
 126 
 
Calvary. 
 
 those who were well disposed; the terrors of the last 
 day are for those who have despised all his commands 
 and all his kindness. We have now seen the whole of 
 the church of the Holy Sepulchre ; let us say a prayer 
 at the Sepulchre, and leave the church, esteeming our- 
 selves singularly favored in having been permitted to 
 walk through these most sacred places. 
 
 127 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 With the Austrians toMt. Moria — Green-Mantled 
 Hadshi — In Omar Mosque — The Hadshi's 
 Brazen Statements — Oriental Splendor — In 
 El Akseh — A Fat Man's Predicament — Stables 
 of Solomon — In Bethlehem — Basilicas and 
 Caves — Shepherds' Field and the Milk-Cave — 
 D esperate Plans — Happy Expedient — Prac- 
 tical Hints. 
 
 On one of the last days of our stay we accompanied 
 the Austrian pilgrims on their visit to Mount Moria and 
 the temple grounds. These grounds are surrounded on 
 all four sides by walls some thirty feet high. The length 
 of the grounds is about half a mile and their breadth one 
 quarter of a mile. It is a plateau half covered with 
 rank, un trimmed grass. In the middle rises the beauti- 
 ful Omar mosque, and on the south end of the plateau 
 the vast basilica of El Akseh spreads out over the vaults 
 of Solomon. On the east, near the Golden gate, is an 
 octagonal kiosk, and along the west and north walls run 
 porticos, some of them walled up to serve for habitations 
 of those in charge of the grounds. Here also is the 
 dwelling of the pasha, which is surrounded by a high 
 minaret. 
 
 On our entrance we were taken in tow by a gaunt, 
 green-mantled and green-turbaned Arab. This is the 
 dress worn by the hadshis, or those who have made the 
 pilgrimage to Mecca. But when I asked him later on, 
 whether he had made that pilgrimage, he answered with 
 infinite disdain, that this place is Mecca enough. Al- 
 though none among the pilgrims besides ourselves under- 
 
 129 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 stood English, he began to sputter away his Moslemite 
 information in horridly butchered fragments of English, 
 so that the Germans were only at a small disadvantage 
 in comparison with ourselves. The substructure of the 
 Omar mosque is an octagonal of the most graceful pro- 
 portions, and the beautiful cupola rises above it to the 
 height of some two hundred feet. The material seems 
 to be a gray limestone, darkened by age. The sides are 
 broken by sculptured panels, within which are the Moor- 
 ish windows arranged in pairs. There are four portals 
 on each of the four larger sides. 
 
 Having covered our feet with clumsy overshoes, we 
 entered on the west side. In the middle an irregularly 
 shaped rock, some fifty feet in diameter, rose to the height 
 of about eight feet. It is entirely bare and surrounded by 
 a circular railing of equal height. Beautifully propor- 
 tioned pillars circle around this rock and aspire to the 
 cupola. The railing runs from pillar to pillar in grace- 
 ful arabesque and trellis work. This rock is the summit 
 of Mount Moria, where Abraham had intended to sacri- 
 fice his son. The hadshi showed us some circular holes 
 in its edge, saying that they are the fingermarks of the 
 angel Gabriel. Mahomet, he said, came to this rock 
 with El Borak, his heavenly steed, in order to ascend into 
 heaven to the throne of Allah. But even the mountains 
 felt the effects of the trance in which Mahomet fell at the 
 moment of ascending. When the prophet began to 
 ascend, the rock of Moria clung to the feet of El Borak 
 to accompany the prophet. Probably Allah considered 
 this an unnecessary baggage, which would retard the 
 journey. So he sent the angel Gabriel in order to hold 
 the unruly mountain in its place. The fearful grasp of 
 the angel caused his fingers to bury themselves into the 
 rock, thus causing the small holes. The hadshi told us 
 this story with the most solemn face, and moreover tried 
 to make us believe that this rock is in no wise connected 
 
 130 
 
Temple Site. 
 
 with the rest of the mountain, but remains suspended 
 some ten feet in mid-air ; namely, in the very place which 
 it had already reached before the angel came to stop its 
 yearning flight. Of course none of us giaours dared to 
 misbelieve the story. A hadshi can't tell any lies. But 
 I must say, that I might possibly have believed some- 
 what more implicitly, if I had been able to see the empty 
 space under the great rock. It was a pity that the four- 
 foot wall running all around it prevented us from verify- 
 ing the fact. I hope the reader will also be satisfied 
 with the word of the saintly hadshi. 
 
 The great cupola is directly above this rock, resting 
 on the rotunda of beautiful pillars. Its ceiling is richly 
 gilded. At about half the height of the rotunda the sub- 
 structure spreads away all around in eight octagonal 
 sections. The gilding, the mosaic and trellis work on 
 the ceilings and walls of the encircling lower structure, are 
 exquisitely artistic. Our hadshi now brought us to the 
 south side and showed us an ordinary cave underneath 
 the great rock. The sides of this cave were covered with 
 marble slabs, but above us were some projections. He 
 said they marked the places where Abraham, Moses, 
 Elias, and other great saints had forced their way out of 
 this cave, as soon as Mahomet had emigrated to the better 
 world. Every soul, too, that is destined for heaven is 
 kept prisoner in this cave, until it can force an opening 
 through the solid rock above. I wonder what all the 
 millions of Mahometan souls thought of the saintly 
 hadshi for introducing so many giaours into their narrow 
 abode. Perhaps they stepped out through the open 
 door of their prison, just for a change, until the cursed 
 giaours should again vacate their prison; some of them 
 may even never have returned to bore their way to 
 heaven through the rock. 
 
 I wished also the hadshi had pointed out the empty 
 space under the great rock, of which he had so glibly in- 
 
 131 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 formed us when speaking of the archangel's fingerholes. 
 We were under it now, but as far as we could see, without 
 appearing too inquisitive, the rock rested on a mighty 
 solid foundation. But then what right had we un- 
 believing giaours to pry so closely into the mysteries of 
 the Haram es Sherif ? 
 
 The Omar mosque occupies the site of the Temple 
 of Solomon. The rock probably supported the sanc- 
 tuary, or holy of holies, of the God of Israel. On the 
 spacious grounds outside, the pious Moslem pilgrims 
 as they approached, showed their reverence in many 
 ways, now kneeling down, now raising their arms in 
 supplication, now prostrating themselves in the direction 
 of the mosque. About one hundred feet in front of each 
 of the four portals, at the foot of a gently rising terrace, 
 four pillared arches guard the approaches. 
 
 Our hadshi with his flowing mantle preceded us to 
 the mosque El Akseh on the south end of the temple 
 plateau. This building is much larger than the Omar 
 mosque, as it was originally the great five-naved basilica 
 built by the crusaders on the site of Solomon's palaces. 
 Its shape and architecture, being basilican, is in strange 
 contrast to its present use. The Turks keep this and 
 the Omar mosque in fair condition, which is rarely the 
 case with other mosques in the Turkish Empire. As one 
 enters the main portals, two rows of huge Doric pillars 
 stretch away to the front, carrying the high middle nave. 
 Its ceiling rises nearly twice the height of the four other 
 naves. The pavement is not in very good condition; 
 part of it is covered with old carpets. 
 
 A dervish sat in the rear of the left sidenave, sur- 
 rounded by a circle of Moslems. He was explaining 
 the Koran. Our hadshi brought us to the front and sung 
 the praises of the mihrab, or front niche, and of the great 
 pulpit carved from olive wood. Much finer ones had we 
 seen in India. The pillars, which formerly divided the 
 
 132 
 
El Akseh. 
 
 sanctuary from the left wing of the church, are so closely 
 placed together, that a stout man could not pass between 
 them. The belief was current, that whoever could 
 manage to squeeze through between these pillars, would 
 also be certain of passing through the gate of paradise. 
 Some time ago a fat Mahometan dignitary, wishing to 
 gain this certainty, stuck fast between these pillars, so 
 that they had to cut out his body. In order to prevent 
 any more blocking up of heaven's gateways by carrion 
 flesh, the spaces between the pillars are now walled up. 
 The mosque El Akseh seems bare and cheerless, for all 
 the decorations that savor of Christianity are daubed 
 over with dull paint. We descended into the subter- 
 ranean crypt, and wondered at the huge blocks of stone 
 which form the foundation of the basilica. Parts of the 
 foundations date back to Solomon's time. 
 
 In fact the entire southern end of the temple-ground 
 is really a platform, which rests on the massive vaults 
 built up from the gentle slope of the hillside. On the 
 southeast corner of the city walls, which is at the same 
 time the southeast corner of the temple-grounds, a 
 passage leads down underneath this platform. The 
 corridors between the vaulted columns that bear the 
 platform are called the stables of Solomon. In some 
 places the iron rings and the stone cribs for the horses 
 are still traceable. Solomon must have had little ob- 
 jection to the smell of ammonia usually connected with 
 stables of horses, for his palaces were built above these 
 vaults. The masonry of these vaults, which cover seven 
 acres of the hillslope, has withstood the wear of three 
 thousand years, and it is apparently as solid as when 
 first erected. A few openings in the south wall admit 
 some light, but the rear vaults are in darkness. 
 
 Coming again to daylight our hadshi led the way along 
 the east wall to the Golden gate. This is built of marble 
 and the inside forms a vestibule with some exquisitely 
 
 133 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 carved pillars. The gate is said to have been built by 
 Solomon, but it must be of much later date. It has 
 been walled up ever since the Moslems obtained posses- 
 sion of Jerusalem. The Turks firmly believe that this 
 is the only vulnerable place in Jerusalem and that here 
 the enemy will enter, if Jerusalem ever falls into the 
 hands of the Christians. A fair-sized modern cannon 
 ball from the Russian hospice on the west side of the 
 city could pave its way through the whole city of Jeru- 
 salem, to this gate, smash it to atoms and chip off some 
 splinters from the rocks of Mount Olivet across the valley 
 of Josaphat. What infatuation to think that walling up 
 this gate should save this city from invasion! Near this 
 gate is a small octagonal structure of white marble, in 
 w^hich the Moslems claim to have in preservation the 
 throne of Solomon. As we were walking over the uncut 
 grass toward the northwest entrance of the temple square, 
 the muezzins were calling out their " Allah il Allah.' ' 
 The only minaret on these grounds is the graceful stone 
 tower that rises like a slender, graceful column, 150 feet 
 above the dwelling of the pasha. It occupies the north- 
 west corner of the temple plateau. The turbaned 
 muezzins looked like boys moving around the minaret 
 and calling out their summons as if from the blue sky. 
 Their clear voices, mingling with those from other mina- 
 rets in Jerusalem and re-echoing through the evening 
 air, seemed like a reminder to many a Christian of his 
 duty to pray. This at least is an admirable institution 
 of Mahomet, that his followers are reminded so often of 
 Allah and of their duty to seek his blessings. 
 
 Next morning found us in Bethlehem. There being 
 no opportunity of soon saying mass on the altar of the 
 crib, I said it on the altar of St. Joseph, next to the cave of 
 the Nativity. The Russians w r ere having their services 
 at the altar of the Nativity. It consisted of interminable 
 singing in long-drawn notes. The celebrant and his as- 
 
 134 
 
Bethlehem's Cave. 
 
 sistants in colored vestments and moving about in the 
 cave, sang endless responses, frequently using incense. 
 After they had finished, we made the tour of inspection of 
 the caves and of the church. A few stairs in the rock 
 lead down directly into the cave of the Nativity. This is 
 about thirty by ten feet, the floor paved in mosaics, but 
 the bare rocks forming the vault about eight feet high. 
 A Turkish soldier guards the entrance day and night. 
 The altar of the Nativity is only three steps from the en- 
 trance in the front wall. A silver star, in the marble 
 slab under the altar, marks the precise spot of the birth 
 of Christ. This altar belongs to the Greeks. On the 
 other side of the stairs is a smaller cave, forming a sort of 
 alcove. It belongs to the Latins and contains two altars ; 
 one on the place where the three kings adored the Child, 
 the other where the Child rested in the manger. Oppo- 
 site this alcove is the stairs leading up into the Greek or 
 Russian convent. 
 
 Passing through the length of the larger cave, we come 
 to a miraculous well in one corner and to a narrow passage 
 on the other. This passage leads into the cave of 
 St. Joseph. An altar occupies the spot where Joseph 
 received the message of the angel, bidding him arise from 
 sleep and fly into Egypt. Next to this cave is the cave 
 of the holy Innocents. Their altar stands over a deep 
 cavity in the floor, into which many bodies of the slaugh- 
 tered Innocents were thrown. From this cave there 
 are two different passages ; one leads up into the church 
 of St. Catherine in charge of the Franciscans, the other 
 leads into another cave. In this cave there are three 
 altars: the altar of St. Eusebius, of St. Paula and Eus- 
 tochium, and of St. Jerome. All these saints have spent 
 a good part of their lives in these caves. Still another 
 and larger cave is connected with the one last named, and 
 was the habitation of St. Jerome for many years. 
 
 We must now go back to the cave of the Innocents in 
 
 135 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 order to pass up the stone stairs in to the church of St. 
 Catherine. Let the reader understand, that there are 
 three entrances to the caves, and that two churches are 
 built aside of each other above these caves ; two entrances 
 connect with the churches, and one with the street. The 
 older of the two churches is the basilica of the Nativity, 
 which dates back to the time of St. Helena, and is now 
 in the hands of the Russians. The body of this church 
 contains five naves, resting on four rows of doric pillars. 
 So little do the Greeks or Russian, care for the venerable 
 building, which they stole from the Franciscans, that 
 they allow a public market to be held in its main part ; 
 the sanctuary they have partitioned off and use for their 
 parochial church. On each side of the middle of this 
 sanctuary, about thirty-five feet apart, are two stairs, 
 both leading directly to the grotto and altar of the Na- 
 tivity. Behind and aside of the basilica, on the right as 
 we face the altar, are convents of the Greek and Arme- 
 nian monks. On the left of the ancient church of the 
 Nativity adjoins the church of St. Catherine and the 
 Franciscan monasteries and schools. Near the portals 
 of this church is a passage underground leading directly 
 to the caves of the holy Innocents and of St. Joseph, 
 which connect it with the cave of the Nativity. The 
 church of St. Catherine is only three-naved and only 
 half as long as the basilica of the Nativity. Both these 
 churches are so hidden by the adjoining convents, that 
 nothing except the belfry of St. Catherine is prominent 
 to view outside. We had a whole case of devotional 
 articles brought into the cave of the Nativity and laid on 
 the holy places, in order to serve as mementoes to our 
 friends on our return. One of the Franciscan fathers 
 blessed these articles and attached to them the great 
 indulgences. 
 
 Afterwards a guide took us about a mile and a half 
 down into the valley of the shepherds. Here the angelic 
 
 136 
 
Around Bethlehem. 
 
 hosts appeared to the simple shepherds to announce the 
 birth of Christ. The precise spot of their appearance is 
 a grotto under the vaulted ruins of an old church. It is 
 in the possession of the Greeks and they keep it in their 
 own neglectful way. They have, however, put a fence 
 around the place and demand a bakshish from visitors. 
 Nothing is to be seen inside except crumbling stones and 
 dirt. On our return we made a detour to the southwest 
 side of Bethlehem, where, on a high hill, is the Milk- 
 grotto. Here the Blessed Virgin stayed for a short time 
 with the Child. A miraculous spring welled from the 
 solid rock, where, as tradition says, some of the Virgin's 
 milk dropped, while she was nursing the Infant Jesus. 
 The Franciscans have transformed the grotto and its 
 surroundings into a beauty spot. The interior is richly 
 decorated and several lights burn continually on the 
 marble altar. A garden filled with an abundance of 
 flowers befittingly enclosed the grotto. Pilgrims gen- 
 erally take along some of the limestone ground, baked 
 into pellets, which is said to be of wonderful efficacy 
 in curing the ailments of child-bearing women. The 
 streets of Bethlehem, though narrow and irregular, have 
 an air of business about them. The people seem to be 
 more prosperous and of higher type than those generally 
 met with in Jerusalem and Palestine. The principal 
 industry is the manufacture of devotional articles. Hav- 
 ing packed our goods in a box ready for shipment at 
 Dabdoub's store, we brought it to Jerusalem, and shipped 
 it to Xew York through Singer's express agency. 
 
 We had spent about a month in the Holy Land and 
 it was time for us to look for passage on some out-bound 
 vessel in Jaffa. But an unexpected difficulty arose: 
 quarantine had been declared against all vessels from 
 eastern ports. Hence, on all such vessels, we were liable 
 to quarantine on arrival in European or Turkish ports. 
 Besides, no steamer was due at Jaffa within the next few 
 
 137 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 weeks. I had already urgently requested the manager 
 of the Austrian pilgrimage to be permitted to take passage 
 on their chartered steamer. But they had given me 
 small hope, claiming that their steamer was overcrowded, 
 and that they were afraid of difficulties on landing at 
 Triest, if they brought passengers not belonging to the 
 pilgrimage. As the season was far advanced, it would 
 be a great hardship to lose at least ten days in quaran- 
 tine. We thought ourselves somewhat ill used by the 
 refusal of the Austrian pilgrims to take us aboard. 
 Hence we had made up our minds to smuggle ourselves 
 aboard the ship with the crowd of pilgrims and see what 
 would come of the matter later on. They could take 
 their choice, either to accept pay for the voyage, or else 
 throw us overboard, like Jonah of old, who played a 
 similar trick in the very same port. At any rate, we 
 were prepared to take the risk and treatment of stow- 
 aways, rather than be delayed by quarantine. 
 
 In order to put our desperate plan into execution it 
 was necessary to be on hand on the morning when the 
 pilgrims were to embark on the Poseidon. Accordingly 
 we took the morning train for Jaffa on the day before. 
 At the Franciscan hospice in Jaffa, we found four of the 
 Austrian pilgrims, two of them very sick. They readily 
 promised to co-operate in our scheme ; for we did not tell 
 them of the scanty encouragement which the managers 
 of the pilgrimage had given us on applying for passage. 
 As we would probably have to sleep on deck during our 
 passage, we bought two woolen blankets in one of the 
 bazaars. A Christian native of the hospice had accom- 
 panied us on this purchase, and he naturally inquired 
 about the use we intended to make of the blankets. 
 When we had explained to him, that we would probably 
 need them for sleeping on deck of the Poseidon, he asked 
 us why we did not take the Aphrodite to Constantinople, 
 instead of crowding ourselves on board the pilgrim ship. 
 
 138 
 
The Aphrodite. 
 
 The Aphrodite was a small steamer anchored in the har- 
 bor, of which the brother in the hospice had told us that 
 it was bound for Alexandria, just the place which we 
 wanted to avoid on account of the quarantine. How 
 glad we were to find, that she was to depart that day, not 
 for Alexandria, but for Constantinople, and that she 
 would nowhere be subject to quarantine, since she had 
 not touched at any Egyptian port. On my getting aboard 
 the Aphrodite, the captain accompanied me to the shore 
 and procured tickets to Constantinople at a greatly re- 
 duced rate. We paid only eighty francs for two first 
 cabin tickets to Constantinople. Having sold our blank- 
 ets again to the very merchant from whom we had bought 
 them, we now looked to the arrival of the Austrian pil- 
 grims with great equanimity. 
 
 At about nine o'clock they came trooping along from 
 the depot in irregular groups and began entering the 
 small boats in great confusion. The Poseidon was riding 
 at anchor half a mile out beyond the dangerous rocks 
 inshore. The embarking of the pilgrims took nearly 
 two hours and from the high balcony of the hospice it 
 presented a very lively scene. With some of the last 
 stragglers I boarded the pilgrim ship and saw her whole 
 interior honeycombed with rude berths. I then realized 
 how fortunate we had been in procuring passage on the 
 other vessel. My desire had been to see Constantinople ; 
 now, instead of going direct to Triest, we would be able 
 to visit several of the historic islands and sea-coast cities 
 of the Mediterranean, and of Syria and Asiatic Turkey, 
 and, in easy stages, finally reach Constantinople. 
 
 Proudly the great pilgrim ship, with booming cannons, 
 flying pennants, and martial music moved away into the 
 Mediterranean, and from the balcony of the hospice we 
 waved the inmates a friendly adieu. The Poseidon 
 dwindled more and more into the distance and finally 
 disappeared beneath the dark-blue horizon. We our- 
 
 139 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 selves embarked on the trim Aphrodite at four o'clock, 
 and a few hours later the ship weighed anchor, carrying 
 us away from the shores of the Holy Land. Blessed are 
 the days we spent there, full of pleasing and consoling 
 memories. "Si oblitus fuero tui Jerusalem oblivioni 
 detur dextera mea; adhaereat lingua mea faucibus meis, 
 si non meminero tui: si non proposuero Jerusalem in 
 principio laetitiae meae." "If I forget thee, Jerusalem, 
 may my right hand be given to oblivion ; let my tongue 
 cleave to my mouth, if I am not mindful of thee ; if I do 
 not place Jerusalem in the beginning of my joy." 
 
 Practical Hints. In regard to the traditions connected 
 with the holy places in Palestine, it is good to exercise some judg- 
 ment. The most reliable source of information is the Catholic 
 church, and especially the Franciscan order. The Catholic 
 church has always shown pious interest in the places connected 
 with the doings of biblical personages, and therefore she was the 
 faithful custodian of the holy places, just as she has been the only 
 custodian of the Sacred Scriptures. The Mahometans have so 
 mixed their fables with holy persons and places, that practically 
 nothing reliable concerning the original history remains to them. 
 The schismatic Greeks, Armenians, Copts, Syrians, never did 
 enter into the spirit of the traditions which they received from the 
 mother church, and therefore much of their information is dis- 
 torted and full of errors. The importance of the principal facts 
 connected with a place is very often minimized in favor of minor 
 circumstances bearing out their schismatic doctrines. 
 
 . Since the twelfth century the Franciscans were the sole cus- 
 todians of holy places and of their traditions. They have spent 
 large sums of money for excavations, and in many places historic 
 accounts are still extant dating back many centuries. Ever since 
 St. Francis visited the Orient the custody of the Holy Land is inti- 
 mately interwoven with the whole history of their order. Hence 
 there is no doubt that their information is the most reliable. From 
 this it follows, that the most advantageous places to take lodging 
 are their hospices in the different parts of Palestine. Those that 
 make a longer stay in the Holy Land, should guard against a sick- 
 ness which sometimes besets pilgrims. It is a peculiar sort of 
 fever, the nature of which is not known and is called Jerusalem 
 fever. Residents there may have some remedies against it, but 
 after it has once taken a good hold, the only safety is to depart 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 140 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Libanus Mount — High Words at Low Insinua- 
 tions — Near Antioch — In Tarsus of Cili- 
 cia — Rhodes and Chios. 
 
 Jaffa, rising like a hemisphere of white buildings from 
 either side of the shore, was a long time in sight, but grad- 
 ually the widening distance and the gathering dusk hid 
 it and the adjoining hills from view. The morning of 
 Thursday, May ioth, found us on the calm, sunny ocean 
 off the coast of Beirut. Hermon's snowy top, 9,500 feet 
 high, glittered like a giant over the Libanus range along 
 the Syrian shore. 
 
 At table the few passengers entered freely into con- 
 versation. Among them was a lady, Mrs. Hanson, who 
 seemed to be some kind of reporter for a periodical in Eng- 
 land. She was accompanied by an Arab dragoman and 
 his son, a native of Ramallah, the town I failed to find on 
 my trip to Nazareth. The captain spoke some English, 
 he and the other officers, and three or four passengers, 
 were Greeks. As the lady began to talk about seasick- 
 ness, I remarked, that while affected with it, one does not 
 know whether the next lurch of the vessel would throw 
 one into the bottom of hell, or send him up to heaven, 
 altogether unprepared for enjoyment, so undefined was 
 the feeling it is apt to cause. The strong comparison 
 at once brought the dragoman to introduce religion. I 
 have always noticed, that there is no surer way to stir up 
 religious discussion, than to merely hint at hell. In so- 
 called polite society, no mention must be made of hell. 
 It touches everybody to the quick, which no doubt is a 
 proof, that the dim fear of hell is in every human breast, 
 
 141 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 and is in itself a cogent proof of the existence of hell. 
 Else why such sensitiveness ? 
 
 Without any introduction the dragoman asked me 
 pointedly, whether I was not a Catholic priest. Yes, 
 of course. Why do Catholic priests demand money for 
 absolving sins, and why do they claim to be able to lib- 
 erate souls from purgatory for stipulated sums of money ? 
 This was a little too much for my equanimity. I spoiled 
 some of his barefaced assurance, by telling him that 
 any one who claimed to be able to prove that assertion 
 was a liar. I felt a twinge of conscience for having used 
 so strong a term at table and before ladies, but once 
 having made the sally, which the occasion perhaps justi- 
 fied, I bombarded him with what easily came to hand 
 just then. He shielded himself by saying that many 
 people had told him so. His informers were relegated 
 to the aforesaid class of individuals. All the priests in 
 the world could not change the fate of any soul, if 
 money were to be used as motive power. But Catho- 
 lics believe and know the efficacy of prayer and sacrifice 
 offered for such souls as were suffering in purgatory. 
 Hence they ask the intercession of the priest as minister 
 of God, not only for themselves, but for their deceased 
 friends. To accept payment for giving absolution, for 
 indulgences, masses, or prayers is branded by the church 
 as Simony and is punished in the severest manner. 
 Every Catholic understands this and they are the last 
 to offer any payment for spiritual favors. The gifts 
 offered on such occasions are looked upon as contri- 
 butions either toward the building and maintenance 
 of churches and schools, or for the support of the pastors. 
 Why should that, which is freely done in every religious 
 denomination all over the world and in every profession, 
 be a crime only in the Catholic church? Besides, no 
 money is ever offered for confession or absolution. As 
 the dragoman was not a revengeful or malicious man, 
 
 142 
 
Ship Company. 
 
 only a great talker, we were soon on good terms again 
 and remained so during the voyage. 
 
 No very strict separation was kept between first and 
 second class passengers on the Greek vessel. Some 
 Greek papas in second class, were with the first class 
 passengers most of the time. We were glad to have calm 
 weather, for as the Aphrodite was not a large vessel, we 
 would have been thrown about considerably in a rough 
 sea. Moonlight lay over the rippling sea and over 
 the distant Libanus, that hides the historic plains of 
 Damascus. Snow gleamed between some of the bare 
 mountain-crags, while at their base dark streaks marked 
 the woody slopes and green fields along the shore. 
 Early in the morning we entered the bay of Iskende- 
 roum or ancient Antioch. The city itself is in ruins and 
 replaced by a small town called Antaka. At Alexand- 
 retta where Alexander gained his first decisive victory 
 on his march to Persia, the Turkish harbor-officials sur- 
 prised us by their polite and reasonable reception on 
 landing. We walked through the cobble-stone streets 
 of Alexandretta, past many shops, that had a business- 
 like air about them, to the Catholic church in charge of 
 the Carmelites. One of the fathers sat in a forlorn 
 schoolroom, waiting for his laggard scholars to appear. 
 He told us that the trip to the ruins of Antioch would 
 take two days, but one could get a distant view of the 
 surroundings, from a mountain-pass behind Bela, ten 
 miles from here. The excursion to the mountain-pass 
 would in itself be a very pleasant ride. Thereupon we 
 concluded, if possible, to secure conveyance to Bela. 
 
 A boy conducted us to a large khan, and, as we pre- 
 tended not to be so very anxious, we soon got offers of 
 a carriage for a reasonable price. But our driver this 
 time was not Mahomet, of Jerusalem. After making a 
 spurt out of town, he and his horses seemed bent on sleep 
 more than on making any particular headway. They 
 
 143 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 slowly crawled up the gentle slopes, which descended 
 from the rugged mountains to the sea. We were not 
 sorry, for the scenery became more and more charming. 
 As we passed through a rocky gorge, Bela lay before us 
 crouched up in the angle of two adjoining mountains. 
 The roofs of its houses were made of dark-colored tile, 
 and looked like irregular black terraces at the head of 
 the mountain gulch. Mountains clad in verdure 
 hemmed us in on three sides as we climbed farther up, 
 while to the rear of us, northwest of Alexandretta, the 
 great Taurus range stretched away like vast western 
 continents. Southward of the mountains, far out in the 
 blue ocean, the hazy cliffs of the island of Cyprus are 
 visible. A comparatively fine pike road winds through 
 the mountain-pass ; it is maintained by the toll receipts. 
 
 The inhabitants of Bela mustered us closely, though 
 not uncivilly. Their appearance was that of well-to-do 
 and independent people; no beggars were met with. 
 There is a pretty strong sprinkling of Druses among 
 them ; many of these could be seen in the street in their 
 gaudy and snug-fitting garments. They seem a stalwart 
 and hardy race. The shops and houses have an ap- 
 pearance of prosperity and enterprise about them, quite 
 different from those in Palestine. 
 
 After about two miles of further climbing we arrived 
 at the mountain-pass, from w T hence the road again de- 
 scends to distant plains. To the left the plains are much 
 broken up by lakes and marshes, while on the verges 
 of the plain to the right the ruins of Antioch were dimly 
 visible. A spur of hills intercepts the view of the village 
 of Antaka. From the heights on which we stood, the 
 army of Alexander may have viewed Antioch from afar, 
 or the crusaders, in their weary march, may have been 
 gladdened by the sight of the rich plains and the prospect 
 of glorious contest against the Moslem hosts gathered 
 together in Antioch. 
 
 144 
 
Ancient Antioch. 
 
 On our return the driver had accepted as a com- 
 panion, a Druse lad of about sixteen years. Though he 
 was but a poor mountaineer, he had a fine and noble 
 bearing about him. Half way down, our driver, having 
 noticed that we took some interest in the flowers that 
 grew in profusion on the mountain slopes, decorated the 
 horses and the carriage with huge bushes of yellow 
 blossoms. We rode into Alexandretta in gala style; 
 however laggard the pace had been uphill, our driver, 
 on approaching the town, lashed the horses into a furious 
 gallop. Our carriage was in danger of being knocked to 
 splinters on the rough boulders, and we ourselves, of 
 landing in some hole along the wayside. But if reckless, 
 he was an expert driver, and no accident happened. 
 
 Not a single hint was given us on leaving the custom 
 pier, that a bakshish was expected. We mentally scored 
 a point in favor of the harbor officials of Alexandretta. 
 Our good ship resumed her voyage, and now headed 
 southwestward in order to clear the great promontory of 
 Asia Minor. The silvery sheen of the moon glittered in 
 the wake of the vessel, and our quibs and jokes were 
 sometimes interrupted by the merry laughter or animated 
 conversation of other passengers around us. These 
 nights on the ship were among the pleasant ones of our 
 great journey. 
 
 As we arose on the next morning, the slanting rays 
 of the rising sun played on the verdant plains and the 
 receding mountains of the Taurus range. Before us lay 
 the town of Mersina, spreading out on the level shores 
 of Cilicia. We hastened ashore and to the Franciscan 
 church. The fathers here are desperately poor, for the 
 contributions of the natives toward the church are next 
 to nothing, and they have to depend upon the precarious 
 remittances from the Propaganda. Yet they had man- 
 aged to build a church, though they themselves still lived 
 in a ruinous convent. Our intention was to make an 
 
 145 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 excursion to Tarsus, the reputed birthplace of St. Paul. 
 It lies some twenty miles off to the eastward, in the same 
 wide plain as Mersina. The roads had been paved 
 once upon a time; now the rough huge boulders pro- 
 jected out of the ground, deep ruts had been worn out by 
 the wagon wheels, and bottomless mud-holes yawned 
 for horse and carriage. At a distance of four or five 
 miles to our left, the Taurus, still seamed with streaks 
 of winter's snows, rose over the plain. Waving grain- 
 fields and verdant pastures lined both sides of our road. 
 Bands of men and women, in their wide Turkish gar- 
 ments, were busy here and there cutting the yellow grain 
 with hand-sickles and binding the swelling sheaves as in 
 times of old. I doubt, whether in all this country even 
 one harvesting machine could be found. Why should 
 land-owners invest money in machines, when for a few 
 medjids they could hire hundreds of busy hands ? Cara- 
 vans of heavily laden camels passed us on the road, but 
 also a railroad train rumbled by in the valley to our 
 left. A few Tcherkess horsemen stormed past us like 
 the wind, as we came in sight of Tarsus. 
 
 The water of the river Cydnus is skilfully distributed 
 in and around Tarsus by irrigation channels and pro- 
 duces a luxurious vegetation. Trees and shrubs were 
 in full blossom, filling the air with fragrance.- We had 
 traversed the lively bazaar streets up and down before we 
 met any one who could understand what we wanted. 
 A young native at last accosted us in English and offered 
 to bring us to the Presbyterian College, and show us the 
 other sights of Tarsus. The Presbyterian College and 
 Seminary are under management of Dr. Christie. When 
 our young guide, who was a student of the seminary, 
 announced us at the home of Dr. Christie, I suppose the 
 good rector had a fainting spell. A Catholic priest 
 paying a visit to the hot-bed of Presbyterian Calvinism 
 in Asia! His wife returned with the message from the 
 
 146 
 
At Tarsus. 
 
 interior (we were not invited to enter, but stood on the 
 doorsteps), that the doctor was not to be seen. They 
 have quite an establishment here, though the buildings 
 would scarcely do for an institution of the same kind in 
 our country. Our young guide seemed somewhat 
 demoralized at the reception which we got. Poor lad, 
 he seemed to think an American Catholic gentleman, 
 and one who seemed just as good as any Protestant 
 minister, ought to be made welcome. Later on, he gave 
 me to understand that he could not account for our recep- 
 tion. 
 
 He readily accompanied us to the parish priest of 
 United Armenians. His chapel and dwelling were mere 
 hovels, while the schismatic Armenians near by have a 
 fine church, crowned with a well-proportioned dome. 
 On the outskirts of the town is an immense concrete wall 
 which has withstood the wind and weather of thirty-five 
 centuries. It is said to be the remains of the mausoleum 
 of Sardanapalus. Tarsus is held to be the birthplace of 
 St. Paul by the inhabitants, and they are proud of the 
 distinction. It is at least certain, that he spent a number 
 of years in this town and probably received his education 
 here. The falls of the river Cydnus near the city afford 
 a beautiful bit of natural scenery. Returning to the 
 bazaars, we reveled in the enjoyment of all the dainties 
 of a Turkish dinner. This consisted of nothing more 
 or less than goodly portions of rice pillau and well 
 peppered hash. Only it was supplemented by a bottle 
 of raki. We now knew there was some substantial 
 reason for the huge platters and pots of pillau and meat 
 sauce, that one sees exposed in the open shops of the 
 Turkish towns. Several times afterwards we made 
 hearty meals of these Turkish delicacies. 
 
 Our swarthy driver, Gellah, in the meanwhile had 
 fed his horses and now made signs that we must be off on 
 our return, if we would catch the steamer. A few miles 
 
 147 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 out from Tarsus he suddenly jumped off the carriage and 
 ran toward some shepherds in the fields. There he 
 bought a jet black lamb and most unconcernedly placed 
 it between us in the carriage with a bundle of green oats. 
 We were not unwilling to have the gentle beast as our 
 companion and pitied its sad fate, for no doubt it was to 
 serve as food in the near future. One of the industries 
 of this region must be the manufacture of rose-water. A 
 tavern on the roadside was literally hidden from view 
 by the rose-bushes around it and trailing up its sides. 
 The scent of roses filled the air. To the credit of the 
 harbor officials of Mersina be it said, that they, like those 
 of Alexandretta, caused us no delay or trouble in landing 
 or in embarking. The vessel soon had resumed its 
 westerly course along the shores of Cilicia, the moonlit 
 Taurus mountains standing guard to our right. Mrs. 
 Hanson regretted very much that she had not joined us 
 in our excursion to Tarsus, as it had partly been arranged 
 between us the day before. A strong gale blew into the 
 teeth of our vessel, but as she cut straight through the 
 waves, the swaying of the steamer was not considerable 
 and seasickness did not make itself felt. 
 
 In the morning, which was Sunday May thirteenth, 
 the great mountain-chain of the Taurus receded to the 
 right and fell into small spurs ahead. Our boat swept 
 northward in a wide curve past the bay of Adalia toward 
 the island of Rhodes. The sea was rough all day and 
 the rebellious play of the waves brought on a sympathetic 
 rebellion of the stomach. But with grim determination 
 I sat on deck, writing about thirty pages of my journal. 
 Frequently the next day we passed islands on both sides 
 of us. Our steamer seemed to have shifted its load, for 
 it hung considerably to the starboard side. Early in the 
 afternoon, the island of Rhodes rose out of the sea and 
 the steamer anchored a few hundred yards from its 
 bastioned harbor-walls. The bright sunlight fell on the 
 
 148 
 
Rhodes. 
 
 old fortifications, now crumbling to ruins on both sides of 
 the lively tree-shaded quay in the centre. Two circular 
 stone piers ran out from each side of the town of Rhodes, 
 ending in two strong towers at a distance of about a 
 hundred yards from each other. The stalwart boatman, 
 as he rowed past between these two towers said that on 
 them stood astride the colossal statue of Rhodes. It 
 must have been an immense statue, if that is true. I 
 suspect that the original towers were much closer 
 together. 
 
 How easy these Rhodesians take life! Hundreds of 
 chatting, smoking men in their airy Turkish costumes 
 sat under the trees in full view of the harbor, sipping 
 their coffee from tiny cups and inhaling the fumes of 
 their nargilehs. They eyed us strangers with indolent 
 glances as we passed. None of them seemed to think 
 that the world would stop revolving, if they did not 
 bestir themselves as we Americans do. Our boatman 
 claimed to be a descendant of one of the Spanish knights, 
 who defended Rhodes against the whole Turkish empire 
 for several hundred years. He was only too willing to 
 show us up some of the old streets of the town. The 
 houses evidently were of European origin. Many of 
 them had escutcheons of the noble families on their 
 fronts. But all are falling into ruin. Not a soul is 
 seen on the streets; the men are all down on the shady 
 quay amusing themselves, while the women no doubt 
 are secluded in these old houses. 
 
 How easy it was to conjure up the forms of doughty 
 knights of St. John, fighting the Moslem hosts up and 
 down the steep cobbled streets, rivers of blood flowing 
 between the mangled bodies of Christian and Turk to the 
 seashore. Winding through some of the quaint streets, 
 we came up to an old church with armorial bearings of 
 some renowned family over the portals. The church is 
 now used as a mosque. A wide stone stairs and platform 
 
 149 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 leads up to the entrance. Here a band of knights made 
 a desperate stand against the invaders, burying the 
 stairs and platform beneath the bodies of the slain. 
 The boatman pointed to some irregular dark spots on 
 the stones of the stairs, claiming that they are the clots 
 of blood of the slain. But of course that was rather 
 hard to believe. 
 
 Our steamer did not weigh anchor until the moon 
 had risen and assumed her sway as the bright queen of 
 the night. We sat in the stern, as the boat turned the 
 bastions and towers of the old fortifications, watching 
 the lights of Rhodes dwindling away, until at last only 
 a solitary red light on a cliff-tower remained on the 
 widening waters. Then the light of the moon grew 
 brighter and brighter, the starry heaven spread its vast 
 arch over the rippling sea and over the distant islands, 
 while the buoyant vessel glided along in the soft zephyrs 
 of the night. These are hours that wake fond musings 
 and often recur to memory in after life. 
 
 All forenoon next day, islands continued to rise and 
 sink from our view out of the bosom of the blue deep. 
 About mid-day we passed the island of Samos. The 
 large town, overtopped by a mountain, lay in the sunshine 
 nestled at the water's edge. Samos is almost independ- 
 ent of Turkish dominion, on account of the great number 
 of Greeks that inhabit it. The wine of Samos is famous 
 all over the Orient. Our vessel did not touch at this 
 port, but proceeded to Chios, where we arrived at about 
 two o'clock. We landed with about a dozen gentlemen 
 and a few ladies, and, after strolling through some of 
 the bazaar streets, walked along the fine drive that 
 curves along the beach around the outskirts of the town. 
 Some of the residences, though not very large, were 
 extremely tasteful, for the majority of the 70,000 inhabi- 
 tants are Greeks, and it appears, well-to-do Greeks. 
 The people seemed somewhat surprised at the large 
 
 150 
 
Chios. 
 
 party of strangers invading their town. Many a curious 
 lady's face peeped out behind the Venetian blinds, to see 
 what it all meant. The inhabitants are great lovers of 
 flowers. Many had nosegays in their hands or at their 
 breasts; wreaths of flowers decked the doors and win- 
 dows of the houses ; flowers bloomed in the gardens and 
 on the porches of the houses ; and the air was laden with 
 perfume. Chios is a good-sized town at the foot of the 
 mountains, that rise a few miles inward. Ruins of the 
 earthquake, which nearly destroyed the town in 1881, 
 still line some of the streets, though most of the town has 
 been rebuilt in modern style. 
 
 While sitting in a tavern partaking of some refresh- 
 ments, a number of Greeks gathered around. I tried to 
 scrape up from the storage rooms of memory, a little of 
 the college Greek. Though the language has not 
 changed so very much, except in some participial con- 
 structions, yet the pronunciation of the words is so dif- 
 ferent from college Greek, that they cannot be recog- 
 nized. When we returned aboard ship, cattle were being 
 unloaded. Not much ceremony was made with the 
 poor beasts; a chain was placed around their horns in 
 the hold; a signal was given to the man at the steam 
 windlass and up through the hatches they came, held by 
 the horns in mid-air. The derrick was swung over the 
 bulwark and the struggling animal was lowered to a 
 scow below. These cattle being thus disposed of, our 
 steamer cheerily resumed its way to Smyrna. Again we 
 enjoyed the beautiful moonlight, the starry dome of 
 heaven, the calm sea, and the luxury of a reiterated 
 pipe on the stern-deck. 
 
 151 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 In Smyrna — Abusing the Pestering Turk — St. 
 Polycarp's Tomb — The Old Fort on the 
 Mount — In the Streets of Smyrna — Fooling 
 the Dougane — In Marmora Sea — Mytilene 
 and the Dardanelles — Approaching Constan- 
 tinople — A Fairy View. 
 
 We arose early in order to see something of the vast 
 and beautiful bay, at the eastern extremity of which 
 Smyrna is situated. It is the most important city of the 
 Turkish empire next to Constantinople, and contains 
 nearly half a million inhabitants. The sun was just 
 rising and only the smoke of the large city could as yet 
 be seen over the prow of the vessel. High mountains, 
 clothed in the green of olive groves and sloping pastures, 
 lined the shore to our right. Two peaks called the 
 "Two Brothers," or "Les Mamelles" overtopped all the 
 rest. Two towns in the midst of gardens and varying 
 fields were nestled halfway up their sloping bases. 
 Farther on the large buildings of a fashionable bathing 
 resort lay half concealed in a mountain gorge. The 
 shores of the bay to our left were low and seemed to be 
 more adapted to commercial and manufacturing pur- 
 suits. A great deal of salt for the government monopoly 
 is obtained on the sand-beach 
 
 The first object that is apt to catch the eye on ap- 
 proaching Smyrna is the great fort, dating from the 
 time when the Genoese had possession. It occupies the 
 brow of the mountain behind Smyrna. The city is 
 spread out below along the sloping banks. Half way 
 up the hill a vast, dark area of cypress trees divided into 
 
 153 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 two portions indicates the Turkish cemetery. Every 
 Mussulman likes to be buried, if possible, beneath 
 the dark green roof of the stately cypress. 
 
 Our steamer dropped anchor amid the numerous 
 other vessels, close in-shore. A host of boatmen sur- 
 rounded the vessel in order to bring the passengers to 
 the custom house only a hundred feet away. A 
 swarthy Greek captured us two, and agreed to land us 
 and bring us back to the ship for a stipulated price. Our 
 good opinion of Turkish harbor officials that had grad- 
 ually grown upon us, was doomed to rude destruction. 
 Our passes had seemed in perfect order to all those 
 whom we had so far encountered in the smaller harbors ; 
 now they were closely scrutinized and w r e were detained. 
 Mine, the superintendent said, had not been viseed in 
 Jaffa and must now be signed by government officials 
 here. My companion's had not been viseed since leaving 
 America, and was entirely worthless. Both could be set 
 in order only by getting the signature of identification 
 from the American consul. I would have to pay three, 
 my companion eight medjid, before we could be allowed 
 to enter Smyrna. 
 
 I wonder to this day that the superintendent of the 
 custom police did not arrest us on the spot for the lively 
 row that now ensued between us and him. I know that 
 any policeman in the United States would not have taken 
 half the abuse the Turkish government got that day. I 
 was thoroughly incensed at the unreasonableness of the 
 demands. However, the Smyrnians seem to allow 
 Americans a pretty wide berth in the kicking line. It 
 was not so long ago that two American cruisers had 
 entered this port to bombard the city, if a certain indem- 
 nity was not immediately forthcoming. Our guide 
 afterwards told us that the indemnity w r as paid, but that 
 the business people would have liked to see the American 
 tars stay longer. Business had taken a boom during 
 
 154 
 
Smyrna. 
 
 their presence. Our protests were not without result, 
 for the superintendent finally allowed us to land on giv- 
 ing guarantees that we would procure the necessary 
 signatures during the day. 
 
 The streets near the water are lined with great busi- 
 ness houses, that is, great for the country we were in. 
 Nothing of course like those of large American or Euro- 
 pean cities. A mule tramway runs along the main street 
 and terminates near the extensive barracks and military 
 grounds. Bordering the latter is the busiest portion of 
 the city, and the great hall of justice. The open porti- 
 cos on the ground floor of the palace of justice were 
 swarming with people and the fragrance of beautiful 
 flower-gardens which extend on one side of the building, 
 wafted in through the hallways. While our dragoman 
 attended to the necessary formalities connected with the 
 renewal of our passes, we sat in one of the Turkish coffee- 
 houses opposite. There they sat, the ease-loving Turks, 
 in their loose garments, some in lively conversation over 
 their strong coffee, others filling their lungs with the 
 smoke of costly nargilehs. The Turkish expression for 
 smoking is "to drink the smoke " and very much like 
 drinking their mode of inhaling seems to be. They do 
 not take short puffs, but they inhale the smoke into their 
 lungs as we would inhale* the air in a long breath. On 
 little tables tiny cups of coffee, or glasses of the milky 
 raki, or some other more cooling drink is served. In 
 Rome do as the Romans, so I ordered one of the water- 
 pipes and the other good things. The waiter, it seemed, 
 wanted to please me, for he brought the finest nargileh 
 in the establishment. The thick amber mouthpiece 
 was at least six inches long, studded with jewels and 
 inlaid with silver. The same adornments were on the 
 long hose and on the joints at the crystal bowl. He 
 heaped up uncut tobacco leaves on the silver top and 
 applied fire. But I succeeded but indifferently in keep- 
 
 155 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 ing the tobacco lighted. In the short time at my disposal 
 I failed to see the luxury of holding the thick mouth- 
 piece in the mouth and drawing away at it like an 
 asthmatic. Beggars and peddlers of all kinds made 
 their rounds, but every now and then the managers 
 would rudely drive them out. Most of the beggars, 
 our guide told us, were from Crete, where the Greeks 
 are much oppressed by their Turkish masters since the 
 last troubles of the Turkish empire with Greece. 
 
 As our guide had returned with the required passes 
 it was time to be astir. Our first objective point was 
 the old Genoese fort on th hill. Along the winding 
 road up the hill were the extensive barracks and parade 
 grounds, where Turkish soldiers were drilling. We met 
 several guards on the road who scrutinized the passengers 
 for contraband goods, especially tobacco. From the 
 top of the crumbling fortifications on the summit of the 
 hill there is a magnificent view of the widespreading city 
 below, of the blue bay and the shores beyond, and of the 
 verdant valleys and wooded mountains toward the in- 
 terior. The fort itself is but a ruin. The cement of 
 the wall is so durable that it still holds together in huge 
 blocks. In the center are large excavations, which were 
 used as underground store-rooms by the garrison. A 
 tunneled passage is said to run ten miles underground 
 to the site of ancient Ephesus. 
 
 We picked our way down the mountain to a place 
 where a small building like a monument had attracted 
 our attention. A green flag floated from it, as also from 
 several other places. They indicate the burying places 
 of Mohammedan dervishes or persons considered saints 
 by the Mohammedans. This particular monument is 
 venerated by the Mohammedans as the burying-place 
 of St. Polycarp, the disciple of St. John. It was hard 
 to figure out what connection these Turks could have 
 with St. Polycarp. He was martyred here about five 
 
 156 
 
Bazaars. 
 
 hundred years before their preposterous Mahomet was 
 born. Why should they set up a monument on a spot 
 where he probably never was buried, and claim it as 
 a holy place ? But if they really believed it to be his 
 resting-place, why should they parade a whitewashed, 
 crumbling wall as a befitting monument for so great a 
 saint? On certain days the Moslems gather here and 
 offer sacrifice of sheep, which is another curious anomaly, 
 certainly not warranted by the Koran. That the keeper 
 was not deceiving us in this regard, was evidenced by the 
 fact that the trees behind the low structure were bespat- 
 tered with clotted blood. 
 
 After indulging in a regular Turkish dinner, in which 
 pillau of course figured prominently, we strolled through 
 the rich bazaars of the city. The silk and embroidery 
 are especially remarkable in these bazaars. They are 
 covered by glass roofs. Several caravans of camels 
 passed through the narrow passages, while we sauntered 
 through. The best way to avoid a collision with the 
 heavily laden beasts is to duck under their widespreading 
 loads, for you must not expect a camel, no more than a 
 solid wall, to yield an inch. Get out of the way, or it 
 will walk over you. 
 
 We visited the Catholic church of St. Polycarp in 
 the heart of the city. The front half of the church and 
 many of the marble ornaments date back to the fourth 
 century. It has lately been enlarged, so that now it con- 
 tains three naves, most beautifully decorated. The style 
 of the interior is a peculiarly pleasing mixture of the 
 Renaissance and Byzantine. One of the fathers in 
 charge of the parish disbelieved any connection between 
 the Moslem tomb and St. Polycarp, except that a very 
 unreliable tradition indicated that neighborhood as the 
 place of his martyrdom. 
 
 On getting aboard again, I found that I had lost 
 one of the books that I had bought. Not wishing to 
 
 157 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 have any more trouble with the boats, I climbed onto 
 a scow which connected with the shore. This mode of 
 getting ashore was altogether against the regulations of 
 the custom house, but none of the guards noticed me. 
 The trouble came when I returned the same way. Just 
 as I reached the ship's ladder, guards came rushing 
 along the shore shouting after me. As quickly as possi- 
 ble I mounted over the bulwarks out of their sight. I 
 knew that they could not have gotten a full view of me 
 in their excitement. Therefore I deliberately carried a 
 steamer chair to the sterndeck and sat myself down, look- 
 ing at them as if their shouting and running were only a 
 matter of complacent curiosity to me. One of them 
 ventured to point me out to the rest, but as I seemed 
 only highly amused, he began to doubt my identity. 
 For about fifteen minutes the guards searched the vessel, 
 while I sat in full view. They finally gave up the search. 
 This was at least some satisfaction for the trouble they 
 had caused me in the morning. 
 
 A certain doctor in Smyrna had alarmed the city by 
 claiming that he had found a case of bubonic plague. 
 But as the statement proved false, the wrath of the 
 inhabitants was thoroughly roused. They gathered 
 at his residence, and would have mobbed him if the 
 police had not made it possible for him to escape from 
 the city. Only a few days later, however, the plague 
 did really break out, and quarantine was enforced against 
 all vessels that touched there after us. At about seven 
 o'clock the Aphrodite steamed out of the spacious bay 
 and headed northward to the Dardanelles. 
 
 In the morning the loud voice of the captain roused 
 us from sleep in order to undergo examination by the 
 doctor. He had come aboard from Mytilene, where 
 our vessel lay anchored. The city was soon spread 
 out on the sloping shores on both sides of a headland. 
 An old fort occupied the summit of a hill, the dark walls 
 
 158 
 
The Dardanelles. 
 
 of which straggled up and down over the declivities. 
 At one o'clock we passed the island of Tenedos, of 
 Homeric renown, and soon after the plateau-lands of 
 old Ilion, or Troy. Then the narrow passage of the 
 Dardanelles hove in sight. The shores of the ocean 
 approach each side for two or three miles like the 
 banks of a river, though in other places they again recede 
 to form wide basins. 
 
 In the harbor of Renku, just before entering the sea 
 of Marmora or Hellespont, we were detained several 
 hours by custom officers. English steamers and tugs 
 disported themselves in the blue waters and the dazzling 
 rays of the sun were reflected from the intensely white 
 buildings of Renku. The vessel proceeded very slowly, 
 for on the next morning we were still in the sea of Mar- 
 mora. The lead-colored waters of Marmora stretched 
 away to the dim and hazy shores on both sides, until San 
 Stefano and Makriki appeared on the low banks to the 
 left. These towns are only some eighteen miles from 
 Constantinople. The Russian army had advanced to 
 this neighborhood in the last Turkish war of 1878, 
 when England and the other powers interfered to save 
 the Sick Man of the East. To the right of us the islands 
 of Pinte, Antigone, Chalkis, and Principe, famous 
 pleasure resorts for the inhabitants of Constantinople, 
 rose out of the sea. Behind them the Asiatic Olympus 
 gleamed in perpetual snows. 
 
 On entering the Bosphorus we were of course on 
 the lookout for the first view of Constantinople. All 
 travelers agree that the view of the city from the en- 
 trance of the Bosphorus is one of the most beautiful 
 sights to be seen anywhere. Unfortunately the atmos- 
 phere was filled with haziness and the heavens were 
 covered with rain-clouds; on this account we lost 
 much of the beauty of the scene. Yet even so the view 
 was beautiful. As the ship rounded the four islands, 
 
 159 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the city began to rise over the waters like a fairy creation. 
 The countless towers and minarets, St. Sophia and the 
 old palaces of Stambul ; then the branch waters of the 
 Bosphorus, and the Golden Horn passed in view. Soon 
 also appeared the tower of Galata, and back of it the buil- 
 dings of Pera overlooking the Golden Horn and the older 
 Istambul. As the vessel skimmed along the narrowing 
 channel of the Bosphorus, both these divisions of the city 
 unfolded themselves more and more, while to the right 
 the green heights of Bulgourlu and the suburbs on the 
 Asiatic shore glided into view. Farther on some of the 
 great white palaces and old castles line both sides of the 
 magnificent Bosphorus. The distant mountains cut off 
 the view of the Black sea. 
 
 160 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Custom House Amenities — Dancing Dervishes — 
 On the Golden Horn — Perversity in Gray 
 Hairs — Turkish Harems Turned Loose — 
 Rainbound — Galata and Pera — The Ubiqui- 
 tous Dog — Nocturnal Harmony. 
 
 Our ship dropped anchor opposite Galata, the 
 Genoese addition to Stambul. A host of small boats 
 soon encircled the vessel to wait for passengers. Most 
 of them had followed us for an hour or more. Naturally 
 we were anxious to get ashore. But we were in Turkish 
 territory, where time seems to be of no value. We 
 waited several hours for the laggard doctors in order to 
 undergo the insignificant examination for quarantine. 
 It was long past noon when we were finally permitted 
 to consign ourselves to the tender mercies of the ravenous 
 boatmen, runners, and custom officials. The latter 
 marauders, failing to see us offer a sufficient bakshish, 
 retained the fragment of a Greek bible and some 
 Baedeckers from our baggage. They gave us to under- 
 stand that these books must be examined lest they contain 
 anything derogatory 7 to the Turkish government. We 
 took our lodgings at Hotel Kroeker on Pera Hill, whence 
 we had a splendid view of old Stambul from our third- 
 story window. 
 
 At dinner a gray-haired man, who had just arrived 
 from Bohemia, was volubly talking to any and every 
 one, evidently considering himself a man who had seen 
 something of the world and was entitled to be heard. 
 In our presence he unspun all his plans for his three 
 weeks' stay to Philips, our guide. "The first thing we 
 
 161 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 must do to-day," he said, "is to make the trip up the 
 Golden Horn," for on Friday (which it happened to be 
 that day) all the beauties of the harems would be gathered 
 on its banks. Philips had already made engagements to 
 that effect with him. However, as the dancing dervishes 
 were to have their weekly performance in a mosque not 
 far off, we left the eccentric Bohemian to his own volu- 
 bility for the present and betook ourselves to that place. 
 It was an octagonal building, the center of which 
 was portioned off by a circular railing as a dancing 
 floor. Already the other space between the walls and 
 railing was filled with spectators. At the head of 
 the dancing floor there was an opening in the railing, 
 behind which some distinguished Turks in rich uni- 
 forms were sitting. Along the circular railing on 
 the dancing floor, in groups of three and with bowed 
 heads, sat the dervishes. They wore gray caps, some- 
 thing like stovepipes without rims, and were dressed in 
 plaited petticoats. From the gallery were heard the 
 muffled sounds of kettle-drums and squeaking instru- 
 ments. Presently these sounds w r ere augmented by a 
 howling song. Thereupon the dervishes began to raise 
 their heads as if awakened from a trance. They got 
 on their feet and began to walk around, making a low 
 bow whenever they passed a green-mantled Turk, at 
 the opening of the railing. After the second round they 
 began to whirl around like tops, using one foot as a pivot. 
 Faster and faster they whirled, more and more unearthly 
 screeched and rumbled the music above. The der- 
 vishes began to stretch out their arms, holding one palm 
 upward, the other downward, head and eyes turned 
 heavenward. Their loose gowns began to spread out 
 centrifugally, so that they looked like weird witches in 
 immense hoopskirts. The din above was now and 
 then interrupted by a loud w T ail, while the green-man- 
 tled overseer cast an eye of disapproval on the laggards 
 
 162 
 
Dancing Dervishes 
 
 to urge them to greater celerity. So these bony, fantastic 
 forms, some young, some old, kept whirling around 
 on their one foot and moving around the circle for 
 half an hour. 
 
 It seemed most senseless to the beholder. They, 
 however, imagine that they are engaged in the highest 
 kind of prayer, and in a total abandonment in the hands 
 of Allah. But as far as outward appearance is con- 
 cerned, it would be hard to find more repulsive features 
 on the streets of Constantinople. We left before they had 
 ceased their whirling, in order to make our excursion to 
 the sweet waters of Europe, or the Golden Horn 
 
 Worshek, the Bohemian, meanwhile had gotten him- 
 self ready, and we soon arrived at the old bridge and in- 
 stalled ourselves in one of the river-ferries. They ply in 
 all directions and serve as the principal means of com- 
 munication between the different parts of the city. Our 
 gray-haired companion drew upon himself the attention 
 of the motley crowds on the steamer by his loud and con- 
 ceited remarks. He was a regular coxcomb in spite of 
 his gray hair, babbling about the charms of the women 
 around him and wishing they would only raise their 
 veils. When I used the word " harem, " he warned me 
 not to use that word again. If any Turks would hear 
 that word, we would certainly be mobbed. The old 
 man remembered having read this in some antediluvian 
 guidebook. Of course we could but laugh at the vain 
 fears of our lively companion. 
 
 Having swiftly passed up the Golden Horn between 
 old Stambul on the left and Pera on the right, we disem- 
 barked in order to make the rest of the way in one of the 
 graceful boats which can be rented on the banks. They 
 are manned by dexterous oarsmen. The Golden Horn 
 soon narrows to a medium-sized stream, for it is nothing 
 else than a brook, which comes down from the moun- 
 tains on the European side, and which has been widened 
 
 163 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 out to a distance of about three miles from Constanti- 
 nople. Its banks have been turned into gardens and 
 pleasant lawns for public pleasure-grounds. At the foot 
 of the hills there are some villages belonging to the 
 Sultan's family. Thousands of boats, gaily decorated, 
 some large, others small, swarmed in the narrowing 
 channel. 
 
 Along the banks were men and women of all ages and 
 conditions, in all sorts of dress. The Turkish women, 
 either by themselves or accompanied by the men, moved 
 about or sat on the grass or under leafy bowers. Nearly 
 all wore veils, occasionally drawn up and allowing 
 glimpses of their features, they themselves casting sly 
 looks at the passers-by. Our old Bohemian hotspur 
 stared at the women, calling them beauties and making 
 other loud remarks about them. I myself could see 
 nothing particularly charming about their depressed and 
 pale faces. They looked to me more like despairing 
 invalids, out for a breath of fresh air. The women of 
 Europe and America do not know what a sad life four- 
 fifths of their sex live in heathen and Mohammedan 
 countries. They are the mere toys or slaves of the 
 brutalized men. In Christian countries woman is 
 regarded as the equal, and in some respects, as the 
 superior of man, as long as she knows how to keep 
 her place. Through the Mother of Christ she has been 
 raised from her position of slavery, to the level of man. 
 Through Her alone she has regained some of the 
 charms of the original Eve, whereby she reigns over the 
 heart of the sterner sex. The "new woman" is on a 
 fair way to return to the position of her sisters in the 
 Orient. 
 
 When we had rowed up the Golden Horn about half 
 the distance, rain seemed imminent and most of the count- 
 less boats were pushing homeward. Among them were 
 also some large barges, with fifty or sixty persons, who 
 
 164 
 
Ox the Golden Horn. 
 
 had rowed up from the Black Sea. On one of these a 
 negro was dancing and singing for the amusement of the 
 crowd. At the end of the Sweet Waters we alighted and 
 took some lemonade in a summerhouse built of leafy 
 branches of trees. Several carriages passed us with 
 members of the Sultan's household. On our return it 
 began to rain, but there was still a great number of boats 
 with merry passengers. The Turkish soldiers and 
 officers made themselves especially noticeable, as is 
 soldier fashion all over Europe when ladies are present. 
 The shower did not last long and behind us the sun again 
 broke through the rain-clouds. As we approached Stam- 
 bul and Pera the bright yellow light of the evening 
 flashed from the windows of the old palaces and buildings 
 on the terraced hillside, and made the city seem a world 
 of fire. 
 
 Old Worshek had kept up his incessant babbling 
 and now took me to task, because I had said I would 
 not be ready for a start in the morning, until I had trans- 
 acted my business at a certain church. This started 
 him off on religion, and he asked me, whether I was still 
 so benighted as to believe in the existence of a God. 
 Nowadays, he said, not one in a hundred persons could 
 be found in Europe, that still believed in a personal God. 
 Of course we all laughed heartily at the absurdity of his 
 assertion. We had just come from Jerusalem, where 
 five hundred of his countrymen had made the pilgrimage 
 to the grave of the Godman. I asked him how it came, 
 that he himself was continually using the name of God 
 in his conversation. "O, that is only a habit," he said. 
 His brother, he said, was one of those fools, that still 
 practice the religion which his parents had instilled into 
 them in their youth; he himself was more enlightened. 
 Philips, the guide, and even the Turkish boatman when 
 he came to understand what our conversation was 
 about, could not repress their disgust at the vagaries of 
 
 165 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the gray-haired infidel. He was getting quite angry, for 
 he saw that none of his arguments had a ghost of a show 
 in the company, and that he was making a laughing-stock 
 of himself. Rising up in the boat and clenching his 
 fist toward heaven, he defied the Almighty to strike him 
 dead, and he gave me leave to call down upon him the 
 thunderbolts of heaven. I asked him whether his ex- 
 citement was not a new proof, that in his heart he be- 
 lieved in the existence of a God, and whether it was not 
 evidently a vain attempt to suppress the secret dread of 
 an outraged deity in his heart ? Perhaps before he would 
 get back to Bohemia, he would find out how well ground- 
 ed his fears were. It was certainly a disgusting sight to 
 see an old man disporting himself in such a manner. 
 
 From some remark that I made after we had landed, 
 he learnt that I was one of the " brood of Catholic 
 priests," as he called them on the boat. He was quite 
 taken aback, w r hen he saw that he had been talking to a 
 Catholic priest all the while, and it seemed he was some- 
 what ashamed of himself. I told him to be at ease, for 
 I had met people of his stamp before, and I knew how to 
 condole with them. The poor man had very likely 
 associated only with the ignorant riff-raff of humanity, 
 that tries to conceal their inward dread of punishment by 
 their malicious ranting against the existence of God. 
 This time at least he had met some one ready to con- 
 tradict his blasphemies with a violence equal to his own, 
 and found that his arguments brought him nothing but 
 ridicule. At supper the insuppressible old man monop- 
 olized the conversation of the whole dining-room, and, 
 having bluffed the rest of the party into silence, he ad- 
 dressed himself to me across the table. He made some 
 slighting remarks concerning the United States. I asked 
 him on what authority he made the statements, he an- 
 swered that he had " heard it said." I asked him point- 
 edly, whether he knew nothing about that country, except 
 
 166 
 
Gal at a. 
 
 what "was said," which made him subside like the 
 froth on the tip of a wave. He steered shy of me during 
 the rest of our stay at hotel Kroeker. 
 
 The next day was the first really rainy day which we 
 experienced on our trip since we left Manila. The streets 
 were not in a fit condition to do much sight-seeing. We 
 managed, however, to find the nearest Catholic church, 
 that of St. Anthony, in charge of the Italian Franciscans. 
 Rev. Othmar Blanchard, a Swiss father, treated us very 
 kindly. In the afternoon during a pause in the rain we 
 strolled along the main street running up from Galata 
 through Pera. It presents an appearance quite Euro- 
 pean, fine stores and other buildings lining it on both 
 sides. But it is a very narrow part of the way and the 
 sidewalks are mostly stone paths, not by far wide enough 
 for the great number of passengers. It is traversed by 
 narrow and rickety horse-cars, on which the charges are 
 in inverse proportion to the convenience afforded. My 
 criticisms in that regard were listened to with evident 
 satisfaction by the passengers who rode down to Galata 
 with us; yet they seemed cautious in their answers. I 
 afterwards found out, that it is not at all safe for anyone 
 to criticise under the rule of Abdul Hamid, especially 
 not for any of the inhabitants. I often noticed, that they 
 eyed me with suspicion and cast cautious glances around 
 on the by-standers, when I launched out in criticism. 
 No one is sure, whether government spies are not hover- 
 ing around to catch a treasonous word in order to bring 
 it to headquarters. 
 
 Leaving the cars near the Galata strand, we strolled 
 up and down some of the busiest streets. This part of 
 Constantinople dates back to the time of the Genoese in 
 the thirteenth century. When the Moslems took Stam- 
 bul from them, the Genoese were allowed to settle out- 
 side the old walls across the Golden Horn. Quite a 
 number of Christians gathered here in course of time, 
 
 167 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 and they built a tower on the summit of the hill for pur- 
 poses of defense. This tower is now used for a watch- 
 tower of the fire department. Between this tower and 
 the shores of the Bosphorus are many ruinous and nar- 
 row lanes, some of them having no outlet. Here the 
 sailors and beggars and the more villainous portion of 
 the population have their haunts and pursue their secret 
 or boisterous vocations and carousals. It is no doubt 
 an unsavory neighborhood for the stranger, and it is not 
 provided with any superfluous illumination. There 
 were numerous resorts for pleasure or for drink in the 
 by-ways and lanes, all well frequented. Nearer to the 
 water and towards the bridge, the streets are crowded 
 with people of all nations and all conditions, from the 
 ragged Turk or Kurd hamal to the rich merchant with 
 gaudy turban or red fez and wide pantaloons; the 
 swarthy Arab or armed Cherkese mingles with the swell 
 Armenian or sight-hunting European traveler. 
 
 Of course we soon became acquainted with the real 
 street-owners of Constantinople. They enjoy great 
 privileges without paying any taxes. Theirs is the right 
 of way, respected even by the street-car monopoly. Be- 
 sides, they have a first lien on all perquisites for sustain- 
 ing life, that may be found on the streets. I refer to the 
 dogs of Constantinople : a wolfish, longtailed, blear-eyed 
 progeny, covered with dirty gray or brownish bristling 
 hair and occupying, singly or in packs, the walks, the 
 gutters, and cobble-pavements of the streets. No genuine 
 native of the city would think of disturbing the beasts as 
 they lie in his way. Much less would any of these four- 
 legged lords of the streets make an offer to get up for any 
 biped, man or woman, that might have occasion to use 
 the path. Carts or carriages must make a detour for 
 their litters lying in the middle of the street. Each 
 neighborhood is in possession of a certain breed of dogs, 
 who will quickly tear to pieces any dog from another 
 
 168 
 
The Dogs. 
 
 quarter, that may stray among them. Not unfrequently 
 a dozen curs could be seen scouring across a square 
 furiously pursuing a luckless canine, whom hunger or 
 love-making had induced to leave the territory in which 
 he first saw the light of day. Now and then a loud 
 snarling resounded, where a group of dogs of the same 
 territory fell to quarreling over some castaway bone or 
 other garbage. They are the scavengers of Constanti- 
 nople, which in a measure might explain the privileges 
 they enjoy. As it had rained on this day, they had as- 
 sumed special rights over any dry spot on the pavement 
 or narrow walks. The foot-passengers therefore were 
 not unfrequently obliged to step into the mud of the gutter 
 in order to pass around the festive canines. One of 
 them had installed herself with a litter of some nine half- 
 blind pups in a box on the middle of the walk. Another 
 was fondly licking a couple of her progeny on the stone 
 sill of a palatial building. No one thought of driving 
 them out of the way, and some of them snarled viciously 
 at passengers w T ho dared to come too near in passing. 
 
 Our objective point had been the douane or custom- 
 house, where we wanted to make inquiries about the 
 books which had been detained the day before. For 
 some time we were unable to find an outlet in the maze of 
 streets of Galata, but when we finally reached the douane, 
 they told us that our books had not yet been examined 
 and we must wait. It had in the meanwhile begun to 
 grow dusk and to rain, so our walk up the hill was not of 
 the pleasantest. However, we reached hotel Kroeker 
 without sustaining any other harm than the rain could 
 do us. This we soon forgot at the supper-table and in 
 our room upstairs. 
 
 The rain kept up its incessant splash on the sill of the 
 open window during the night. Adjoining the hotel were 
 the remains of a large cypress grove, which formerly 
 served as a Mohammedan cemetery. Streets had been 
 
 169 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 cut through it, many of the trees had disappeared, and 
 business houses had invaded the abode of the dead. On 
 some other night, as we sat at the open window, the 
 wonderful harmony of a song reached our ears. It came 
 from a party of Greeks, w T ho were passing through this 
 cemetery. Faintly at first from the distance the four- 
 voiced song trembled through the night air, then louder 
 and louder as they approached, dying away again, as 
 they passed down toward the water. Very often during 
 the night, peculiarly sharp thuds sounded up from the 
 streets. The night-watchmen thump the pavement 
 with their ironclad staffs as they make their rounds. 
 A fine arrangement for the thieves and crooks: they 
 could calculate to a minute, how long they might con- 
 tinue in any incident night-job, before the watchman 
 would be close enough to interfere. What matters a 
 small intermission? The receding thumps of the staff 
 would soon indicate the peaceful passage of the watch- 
 man, and they could resume their work. I think our 
 policemen could learn a trick or two from these night- 
 watchmen in Constantinople; they could learn to make 
 their rounds in dangerous places without fear of en- 
 countering any member of the fraternity of night- workers. 
 
 170 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Mass in Istambxtl — Over the Swarming Bridge 
 — Agia Sophxa. — Old Remnants — Stambul 
 Scenes — To Skutari — Splendid View — 
 About Armenlan Massacres — On Horseback 
 oyer the Hills — Sunset on the Bosphorus — 
 Black and Roaring Waters — Much Ado about 
 Nothing — Over Ruined Walls. 
 
 I had been invited by Father Blanchard to say mass 
 at eight o'clock on Sunday. It is the glorious privilege 
 of the Catholic traveler to be able to attend the same 
 kind of worship that he has been accustomed to since 
 his childhood, in all parts of the world, though he may 
 be ten thousand miles from home. He begins to under- 
 stand, that he belongs truly to the one universal and 
 unchangeable church, unchangeable by time or place. 
 In the midst of Mohammedanism we could kneel and 
 join in the same glorious homage of the Savior and in the 
 same consoling veneration of the Queen of Heaven. 
 Here and in many French and Italian churches I saw 
 some men of the congregation during service kneeling 
 and receiving Holy Communion in the sanctuary, while 
 the women received it at the communion railing. 
 
 Generally there are very few seats in European 
 churches; the congregation kneel or stand promiscu- 
 ously on the stone pavement. On examining the reg- 
 ister of the Sacristy I found the name of Rev. Heuser, 
 editor of the Ecclesiastical Review, and also the names 
 of the priests of the German caravan to Jerusalem. 
 
 After breakfast we went to get a good view of Con- 
 stantinople from the Galata tower. A circular stairs 
 
 171 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 leads round the massive walls to the height of about 
 fifty meters. Six centuries of wear have hollowed out 
 the two hundred steps that lead to the top. From its 
 tin-covered roof we could survey the whole surrounding : 
 St. Sophia and the other great mosques, the arches of the 
 ancient aqueduct more than a thousand years old, the 
 remains of the city walls, winding around the old city 
 from the Golden Horn to the Sea of Marmora. The obe- 
 lisk, dating back to Roman times, and the Seraskian tower 
 overtop the sea of buildings in the middle of old Stam- 
 bul. To the south, across the Bosphorus, Skutari, Bul- 
 gourlu hill, and several other suburbs lined the shore, 
 while the Asiatic Olympus gleamed over the Princess 
 islands. The morning sun had driven off the rain-clouds 
 of the previous day and brightly shone over all the varied 
 panorama. 
 
 The old bridge, connecting Galata with Stambul, is 
 only a ramshackle wooden affair resting on pontoons, 
 but it is a goldmine for the Sultan. They do not bother 
 the passengers with tickets; six or seven collectors on 
 each end stand in a row across the roadway collecting 
 the metaliques from the crowds as they pass. You pay 
 your cash and pass over or stay on the bridge all day, if 
 you like. It is quite worth while lingering, for there is 
 probably no place in the world, where so many and so 
 varied kinds of people pass within a given time, as on this 
 bridge. What a vast variety of physiognomies even in 
 one hour! It seems as if all the nations of the world had 
 appointed this their meeting-place on the confines of 
 Europe and Asia. 
 
 Omitting a visit to the mausoleum Valide at the other 
 end of the bridge, we entered on the Serai or old palace 
 grounds of Constantinople. The palaces are mostly in 
 ruins, but the grounds are laid out in drives and patches 
 of park. A plantain tree, dating back to remote times, 
 measures thirty-five feet in circumference at a man's 
 
 172 
 
St. Sophia. 
 
 height. Under it, in times gone by, many a squad of 
 Janizaries have lain, opposite the gate of death, where 
 their clamor for the heads of obnoxious pashas rose 
 up to the windows of the Sultan's palace. And here 
 they dispatched many a victim of their resentment as 
 soon as the Sultan had yielded to their clamors and sent 
 them their victims through the old portals of the Serai. 
 Passing under this gate of death, we stood in sight of the 
 great mosque St. Sophia. Exteriorly it looks like a 
 conglomeration of smaller buildings and additions 
 surmounted by a vast cupola. During the Moslem 
 occupation additions have been made to the great 
 church without any regard for taste or architecture, so 
 that any architectural beauty of the outside, if there was 
 any originally, is completely hidden. Justinian, who 
 completed it, would scarcely recognize it, if he were to 
 come upon it of a sudden. 
 
 Passing by the main portal, which is reserved solely 
 for the Sultan, we came through a narrow street to the 
 front, where a vast carved door gave entrance to an 
 arched hall or atrium. From this hall several entrances 
 open into the main body of the mosque. The Turks will 
 not neglect this chance of collecting bakshish from the 
 stranger. Any giaour, that wants to inspect the mosque, 
 must pay a medjid, equal to one dollar. The corridor 
 or vestibule is richly decorated with mosaics and the great 
 doors are of carved bronze. Before entering the mosque 
 proper a Turk will intercept you and require you to put 
 on slippers or take off your shoes. Inside, the vast 
 dome rises magnificently on four marble columns. 
 These columns are spanned by four immense arches 
 which support the lower base of the cupola. So correct 
 is the proportion that at first one does not realize the 
 dimensions of the great dome. The substructure, above 
 which this vast cupola rises, is the form of a cross and 
 about 270 feet wide. A gallery 50 feet wide runs around 
 
 i73 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 three sides behind the marble pillars, which support the 
 dome. The whole vast surface of the dome and of the 
 walls down to a certain height, was formerly of rich 
 mosaics, but now is daubed with tasteless stencil ara- 
 besques in yellow, black, or blue colors. In many of the 
 fields the mosaic images of the saints and of the Savior, 
 that adorned the church in Christian times, still appear 
 in outline behind the Moslem daubing. 
 
 The whole area of the mosque is bare of furniture 
 except the mihrab and two huge wax candlesticks. 
 Around some of the pillars were railings, within which 
 dervishes were reciting the Koran in loud monotonous 
 voices. One little chap was all alone within one of these 
 railings, swinging to and fro on his knees in his efforts to 
 get the Koran by heart. To the left of the mihrab, a black 
 stone slab was immured into the wall : this is a piece 
 of the Kaaba at Mecca and is held most sacred by the 
 Moslems. Many pious Turks make pilgrimages to this 
 stone instead of going to Mecca. Under the galleries are 
 spacious porticos or halls, supported by pillars of rare 
 stone. The larger of these pillars, supporting the prin- 
 cipal arches of the halls, are spoils from renowned build- 
 ings of ancient times. The vaulted ceilings of the por- 
 ticos are beautifully mosaicked. 
 
 Though the Agia Sophia was founded by Constantine, 
 Justinian, two hundred years later, is its rebuilder and 
 completer. It is therefore nearly fourteen hundred years 
 old. In 1452 it passed into the hands of the Moham- 
 medans. On one of the great columns near the western 
 entrance, at a height of about fifteen feet, is seen a daub 
 of red color. The Turks believe that it is the impress 
 of the hand of Mahomet II on the day of his victo- 
 rious entrance. The last refuge of the defenders of the 
 city was St. Sophia. Around this pillar were piled the 
 bodies of the slain ten feet high. When all the Christians 
 had been slain, Mahomet climbed on top of this heap of 
 
 174 
 
Mosques. 
 
 dead and laid his gory hand against this pillar in sign of 
 victory. No amount of paint, according to Moslem 
 belief, will wipe out this stain. St. Sophia did not strike 
 me as the great wonder it is claimed to be. The dome 
 of St. Peter in Rome is 193 feet in diameter and 448 feet 
 high, while that of St. Sophia is only 107 feet across and 
 183 high. Of course the fact, that the Turks have so 
 miserably disfigured the interior by their daubing, and 
 the fact, that the building is misused for a mosque rather 
 than for its original purpose as a Christian church, must 
 be taken into consideration. 
 
 Not far from Agia Sophia is the ancient hippodrome, 
 or rather the remains of it ; namely, the bronze serpentine 
 pillar, broken at half its length, the carved obelisk, and 
 traces of the race course. Many a gay scene, no doubt, 
 was here witnessed in the times of the Roman emperors 
 of the East. Nearby is the Janizar museum, containing 
 life-size wax figures of army and court officials, dressed 
 in the uniforms used during the centuries of Turkish 
 domination. The Ahmet mosque is an imitation of St. 
 Sophia, with a larger dome. Its interior is covered 
 with white and blue tile, making it look still more bare 
 and cold than that of St. Sophia. Of the many mauso- 
 leums of Constantinople, that of Hamid Assis is the 
 most remarkable. The members of the Sultan's family 
 are here buried under sarcophagi, covered with black 
 velvet palls, richly embroidered. Costly memorials from 
 the sovereigns of Europe are placed around in the same 
 apartment, among them two heavy candlesticks from 
 Queen Victoria, and a magnificent golden clock from the 
 emperor of France. On silver stands are copies of 
 the Koran written by the Sultans; that of Haroun al 
 Rashid being especially remarkable. Each Sultan is 
 expected to copy the Koran at least once in his life. In 
 the beautiful cemetery surrounding the mosque are the 
 monuments of the many celebrated Turkish statesmen 
 
 175 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 and generals of former times. The whole cemetery 
 seemed one bouquet of exquisite flowers, especially roses 
 in full bloom. 
 
 A few turns brought us into the midst of the old 
 streets and lanes of Stambul. In one of the small lunch 
 rooms we had a dinner in regular Turkish fashion. 
 These dinners, as I have remarked before, are admirably 
 adapted to drive away hunger and not merely to pass 
 away time. Our good dragoman, Philips, did not for- 
 get himself in giving orders, you may be sure. After- 
 wards he persuaded us to go to the bazaars, where he 
 expected his friends, the stall-keepers, to ease us of some 
 of our superfluous cash. This time it was in the shape of 
 rosewater, which we had hinted as a possible purchase. 
 The native merchant brought out six glass sticks bored 
 like a thermometer, each containing about a drop and a 
 half of the fluid and offered them to us at forty francs. 
 He said that was about their price in any other shop. 
 With great perversity we offered ten or twelve francs 
 and finally concluded the bargain at twenty francs. 
 With much ado, the Turk asked us whether we would 
 take it on our conscience to make him lose so much at 
 one fell swoop. We though we could take that and 
 much more on our conscience. Afterwards we found 
 out that to have offered five francs would have been 
 a very liberal offer for the stuff. 
 
 All kinds of European and Oriental merchandise is 
 exposed under these glass-covered roofs of the vast 
 bazaars. A goodly proportion of the merchandise sold 
 as Oriental is made in wholesale quantities in Europe 
 and America and shipped to the Orient. The shop- 
 keepers are of course always on the alert for the stranger 
 and mostly succeed in palming off their goods at fancy 
 prices. The guide generally extols the wares to the skies 
 and gets a share of the booty. On the whole, the bazaars 
 pleased me less than those I had seen in the far East. 
 
 176 
 
Skutari, 
 
 Under the glass roofs they have lost much of the Oriental 
 variety and picturesqueness, and I fancy, that in a few 
 years they will resemble merely our great department 
 stores. 
 
 Our next move was a passage on one of the steam- 
 boats across the Bosphorus to Skutari. There we soon 
 procured three fine horses for a ride up to the heights of 
 Bulgourlu. Skutari is a large addition to Constantinople 
 on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus. The streets here 
 are wide and the houses seem commodious. The road 
 up to Bulgourlu leads through some of these streets and 
 then past fine gardens, residences, and summer-resorts 
 on the slopes of the hill. Our horses, though hired, had 
 some fire of youth left, and each one of us, as is usual with 
 those seldom on horseback, thought it his duty to show a 
 little of his horsemanship. So, every now and then, one 
 or the other of us would whip up the horse he was rid- 
 ing and make a spurt ; of course the other two would 
 have to follow, if they did not want to load upon them- 
 selves eternal shame as indifferent riders. My traveling 
 companion claimed, that he often hired horses in Du- 
 buque on Sunday afternoons to ride out with his friends. 
 I of course, as a Bedouin sheik, and one that had done a 
 great deal of camping out, had to keep up some sort 
 of appearances. As for our guide Philips, he had to 
 prove himself a good rider on general principles, for these 
 guides claim to be paragons of all kinds of acquisition 
 and skill. To tell the truth, however, the three of us 
 must have been shamming ; in our inmost souls we were 
 conscious of the insecurity of our exalted position, and 
 after a while, no doubt, also of the chafing and thumping 
 of certain portions of our anatomy, used to more sedate 
 and gentle treatment. But what will vanity not accom- 
 plish ? 
 
 We arrived on the top of the mount in less than an 
 hour, and were rewarded by a charming prospect and a 
 
 177 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 pleasant rest on the greensward. Other pleasure seekers 
 were scattered here and there on the hilltop ; some well 
 to do Armenians, some Greeks and Turks. An awning 
 was put up by some enterprising individual, under which 
 he sold lemonade and other refreshments. Pieces of 
 Turkish Delight, a sort of soft candy steeped in powdered 
 sugar, were brought with each order. Constantinople, 
 spread out in the sunshine on the other shore of the 
 Bosphorus, lined with beautiful villas and summer 
 resorts, stretched away to our right where the opening 
 of the Bosphorus permitted a glimpse of the Black sea 
 through dark mountain walls. Glassy Marmora 
 stretched away to our left, varied by the group of islands 
 on the horizon. Behind us the verdant hills and valleys 
 of Asiatic Turkey met the gaze in glorious sunshine. On 
 looking from this mountain over these pleasant scenes, 
 one is loth to remember, that this beautiful country was 
 wrested from Christian civilization by the barbaric 
 Turk, and that his blighting footstep still rests on these 
 fair provinces. Tyranny and bloodshed terrorize the 
 inhabitants. Philips, casting a wary glance at the pleas- 
 ure seekers, that might be within hearing, said that he 
 himself had witnessed the stabbing, shooting, and cud- 
 geling of inhabitants in the streets of Constantinople 
 three years ago. According to his assertions, the Ar- 
 menians were really the first aggressors, throwing stones 
 and shooting from housetops at Turkish soldiers, in the 
 hope of causing an insurrection against the -Sultan's 
 government. Thereupon the Turkish soldiers began to 
 massacre every Armenian found walking the streets of 
 Constantinople, and they were seconded in a lively man- 
 ner by the Turkish populace. 
 
 Again we bestrode our horses and descended in a 
 different direction toward the great Moslem cemetery on 
 the Asiatic side. It is seen as a vast cypress forest on 
 the slope of the hill. The devout Mussulman does not 
 
 178 
 
Eyoub, 
 
 like to rest on European soil, but will seek to be buried 
 on Asiatic soil, where the tomb of Mahomet and the 
 Kaaba stands. This accounts for the vastness of this 
 cemetery. The high cypress trees are so closely planted, 
 that their crowns completely shut out the light of day. 
 Even more thickly beneath them are set the upright 
 slabs of stone, that mark the graves of the Moslems. 
 Some of the stones are left in their natural roughness 
 as they come from the quarry, others have a turbaned 
 head carved on top. Many of them are standing up- 
 right, others are beginning to topple over or are lying pell- 
 mell on the ground in great confusion. As much as the 
 Moslem likes to visit his graveyards and cherish the 
 memory of the dead, he cares little to exert himself in 
 propping up the falling headpieces or repair the ravages 
 of time. If the headstone falls, is it not the will of Allah ? 
 Through the midst of this grove we rode on a water- 
 washed trail, the stones looking like the heads of ghosts 
 on the wayside. In many places the path led over 
 groups of these fallen stones. Robbers are said to in- 
 fest this cemetery, for in the vast recesses of its forest 
 they would find thousands of hiding places to elude any 
 pursuit. So deep is the shade cast by the trees, that a 
 perpetual gloom reigns beneath, and though it was a hot 
 sunny day, the air was quite chilly. 
 
 Issuing again from these dismal scenes into the sun- 
 light, Philips set his horse into a gallop over a wide pas- 
 ture; we followed of course, neck or nothing, over the 
 uneven ground. As mine seemed to be the best of the 
 three nags, it soon overtook Philip's, while the third 
 spurted on behind. We rode past the English church 
 and graveyard where the soldiers who fell in the Crimean 
 war are buried. In the summer-resort nearby a band of 
 Bohemian girls gave a concert, while the garden in front 
 was filled with listening and ogling men. 
 
 Instead of one of the large ferries, which we missed, we 
 
 179 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 took a rowboat to cross the broad Bosphorus. Swiftly 
 the sharp bow cleaved the waves, as the last rays of the 
 sun glittered on the water and fringed the storm-clouds 
 above the city with burnished gold. Before we had half 
 crossed, the dusk began to settle. But by the lusty ex- 
 ertions of the two oarsmen we reached the old bridge and 
 elbowed our way through the throngs to our hotels. We 
 had put in a busy day of sight-seeing, and when we 
 counted up our expenses, we found that they amounted 
 to about 220 piastres for both, which would make nearly 
 nine dollars of American money. But this expense was 
 quite unusual with us ; all our expenses, including rail- 
 road and steamer tickets for the journey, amounted on 
 an average to only seven dollars a day. Conservative 
 travelers estimate the daily expense of a journey at about 
 eight dollars a person, not counting the amount spent 
 for transportation. 
 
 After mass at St. Anthony's next day we took passage 
 in one of the steamers up the Bosphorus nearly to the 
 Black sea. Charming scenery is presented as the boat 
 glides up the now wider, now narrower, channel. On its 
 banks the wealthy of Constantinople reside in beautiful 
 villas during the hot season of the year. One of the 
 first palaces met with is that of Abdul Hamid, the present 
 Sultan, built close to the European shores. A fine 
 variation of hills and valleys with gleaming villas and 
 well-kept parks succeeds each other up to Rumili Hissar, 
 or Roumelian Fort, on the European, and Anatoli Hissar, 
 or Anatolian fort, on the Asiatic shore. These mighty 
 ruins are fortresses built by Mahomet II in 1452 on 
 each side and at the narrowest part of the Bosphorus, in 
 order to force contributions from all passing vessels. 
 The castled walls and the battlements of these ruins are 
 the most picturesque to be seen anywhere. The boat 
 made many stops, and at the last one, we could see the 
 mouth of the Black sea through an opening in the 
 
 180 
 
Pile-Driving. 
 
 mountains, where the Black sea disgorges into the Bos- 
 phorus. The flow of waters at the narrow portions of 
 the channel is very swift. Many a luckless vessel in 
 times gone by, and even steamers in our day, are ir- 
 resistibly swept upon the hidden rocks by the strong 
 current and concomitant winds. No wonder ancient 
 lore has woven around this narrow stretch of water 
 many myths of dangers encountered by the first navi- 
 gators. Through this passage Jason and the Argonauts 
 beat their adventurous way to Colchis in quest of the 
 golden fleece. Here Xerxes and Alexander crossed 
 with their armies, bent on their schemes of conquest. 
 As we returned Bujukdere, Bekoe, Kandili, and Skutari 
 successively glided by at our left. 
 
 Arrived again at the new bridge and having taken a 
 Turkish dinner, we pushed through some of the narrow 
 streets along the Golden Horn on the Stambul side. 
 Here we encountered some of the old-time scenes of 
 Turkish life: crowded streets, tumble-down sheds full 
 of skulking dogs, open sewers in the middle of the lanes, 
 swarthy Druses, Arabs and Turks, lounging around 
 with their nargilehs or lazily at work. On turning 
 round a corner we suddenly heard a great shout and 
 beheld a crowd of ragged men, gathered around a 
 scaffolding near the w r ater and each one holding in his 
 hand the end of a rope dangling from a high pole. The 
 ends of each rope were fastened to a thicker one running 
 over a pulley attached to the pole about thirty feet high. 
 The other end of this thick rope w r as tied to an iron 
 weight lower down. This iron weight was now T resting 
 on a pile which was to be driven into the ground. 
 
 Suddenly there was a universal shout from the motley 
 assembly, and each one began to pull at his rope, thus 
 slowly raising up the iron weight between two guide 
 posts. Louder the shouting, higher the weight rose, 
 until the overseer gave a signal. Then with one final 
 
 181 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 yell each ragged Turk let go his rope. The heavy 
 weight jerked up the tangled maze of rope ends as it 
 descended with a thump on the head of the pile. Tri- 
 umphantly the overseer measured how far the pile had 
 been driven in and found it — a half inch lower. The 
 real situation dawned upon us, it was no May festival, 
 it was a pile-driving bee. Those thirty-five men were 
 having a grand huzza about every fifteen minutes, while 
 they raised the weight for one more half-inch blow. 
 This manner of pile-driving was so ridiculous to us, 
 that I could not keep myself from shouting and huzza- 
 ing with them, when after ten minutes they renewed 
 their glorious achievement. Riddle: How long would 
 it take these men to drive the piles needed for one of the 
 Chicago skyscrapers ? Yet what is time to them ? Were 
 they not earning enough for at least one pillau a day ? 
 
 Finding that the Aiwan Serai, where the old city 
 walls begin, was farther off than we had expected, we 
 hired a boatman to row us up the Golden Horn. What 
 a maze of old ramshackle boats and of ruinous huts 
 along the banks! These riverbanks almost resemble 
 those of Canton, which we had seen three months before. 
 Half way up we passed an iron church. It is very 
 tastefully put together and quite large, though not so 
 large as that of Manila. From Aiwan Serai the old 
 city walls run over hill and valley to the banks of the 
 Marmora sea, seven miles distant. Istambul or ancient 
 Constantinople, which this wall encloses, is built on a 
 tongue of land formed by that sea and the Golden 
 Horn. Two different walls, and for a portion of the 
 distance, three different walls, were built parallel to 
 each other in various periods of the history of Constan- 
 tinople. The oldest and strongest was constructed by 
 Theodosius in the sixth century, while the other two 
 were added as outer defenses by the Moslems. A deep 
 fosse ran along the outside, parts of which are now filled 
 
 182 
 
Yedi Kule. 
 
 up or used as vegetable or wheat patches. Trees grow 
 on the old ramparts, sheep and goats clamber among the 
 debris of the falling walls. In places there are wide 
 breaches in the three walls, which give a view of the 
 city inside. A walk of three hours brought us to the 
 Golden Gate, all of marble, but walled up. 
 
 Through this gate in 1452 the Mussulmen entered 
 Constantinople, putting an end to the Greek empire. 
 There is a superstitious belief that the Christians will 
 again enter through this gate and end the Moslem do- 
 minion. No doubt it is possible that the Christian 
 nations will again open this gate; but how foolish it is 
 to suppose that walling up this gate will keep them out. 
 There are breaches in these walls large enough to let 
 whole armies sweep through, and a moderate-sized can- 
 non could beat down the old walls anywhere. 
 
 Not far from this gate are the Yedi Kule, the seven 
 towers, which adjoin the Marmora sea and form the 
 end of the wall. They are part of a former fortress 
 and palace of the Sultans. Now all is in ruins and only 
 four of the seven towers remain. The Sultans were 
 wont to confine their prisoners in these towers, and when 
 it pleased them, also the ambassadors of Christian 
 nations. The old keeper showed us the dark vault 
 which the gracious Sultans used to reserve for the ac- 
 commodation of the Christian ambassadors. From the 
 top of the largest towers a fine view is had of the city 
 and of the wide expanse of the Marmora sea. Through 
 the kindness of two priests, that just then happened to 
 join us, we were informed of the dummy railroad train 
 just about to start for the city from the nearby station. 
 It afforded us a chance to see Stambul also along the 
 shores of Marmora and the Bosphorus, so that we had 
 made a complete circuit of the city in one afternoon. 
 
 183 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 In the Meshes of a Stamboui Dragoman — Seeing 
 Mosques — The Ratals — From Kuleli to 
 
 Adrianople — A Hearty Welcome with the 
 Resurrectionists — Through the Bazaars — 
 Across European Turkey to Salonica — Pan- 
 demonium of Carriers — Shadowed by the Law 
 — Stroll through New and Old Town — San 
 Dimitri — Cutthroat Custom Rules — Off for 
 Greece — Practical Hints. 
 
 Our first place to visit next day was old St. Piedro 
 on one of the side streets near our hotel. It contains a 
 painting of the Blessed Virgin by St. Luke. All of the 
 picture except the face is covered with embossed silver. 
 Near by is the orphanage of St. George, where we found 
 German sisters in charge. The persistence of guides 
 in pressing their services upon strangers is nowhere 
 greater than in Constantinople. As we crossed the 
 bridge to Stambul a dragoman joined us uninvited, 
 and followed us so persistently, that I purposely pre- 
 tended to understand neither French, English, nor 
 German, in which languages he accosted us. We 
 spoke Bohemian, which I had learned from my com- 
 panion. But he followed us for a long time even to the 
 museum in the Serai, for he saw that we were shamming. 
 His persistence ended only when at last he was engaged 
 as guide by an old gentleman whom we had seen at our 
 hotel. 
 
 The most valuable and noteworthy objects in the 
 museum of Stambul are the grand sarcophagus of 
 Alexander the Great and the fine collection of gems 
 
 185 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 recently found by Schliemann on the site of ancient 
 Troy. The former is indeed a grand witness to the ad- 
 vanced state of the sculptor's art three centuries before 
 Christ. The four sides of the sarcophagus represent, in 
 images that seem to live and move, some of the battle 
 scenes in Alexander's life, while its cover represents 
 some scenes of his private life. Especially vivid is the 
 hunting scene. The whole monument is wrought out 
 of one large piece of red marble. Schliemann's 
 collection gives a vivid insight into the affluence of the 
 ancient Trojans, for it is a remarkable collection of 
 precious stones and exquisite gold and silver chasing. In 
 the upper stories, mummies from the Babylonian and 
 Egyptian tombs are shown. 
 
 The tramways of Constantinople (and in a measure 
 all over the Orient) are cumbersome and slow substitutes 
 for walking, with an annoying system of paying fares. 
 You must keep a slip of paper in your hand for the 
 frequent inspection of a set of conductors, that board 
 the car every few blocks to exchange places with each 
 other. The car brought us to the Seraskian tower, 
 the highest in the city, commanding an extensive 
 view of Constantinople. Standing on its summit we 
 were nearly blown off our feet by the violent north- wind, 
 which was also quite cold. The Bosphorus, the Mar- 
 mora sea, the Golden Horn, the aqueduct of Valens, 
 the towers and buildings on the terraced hills of Galata 
 and Pera, combine to form a magnificent scene. Here 
 also one is impressed with the countless number of 
 mosques in Constantinople. Each mosque of course 
 has also its minaret to make it conspicuous. Immedi- 
 ately around the Seraskian tower is a vast public square, 
 on the western side of which adjoin the administration 
 buildings. The entrance to the buildings is by a high 
 portal, from which the Turkish government derives the 
 the name of Sublime Porte. Descending and strolling 
 
 186 
 
Hamals. 
 
 again through the bazaars, we had the usual experience 
 with the boothkeepers. Desirous of getting rid of the 
 importunity of one of them, who wanted to press upon 
 me a silk scarf, I offered him one-third of the price 
 asked. I was badly fooled; he eagerly accepted the 
 offer and set about trying to sell some more of his goods. 
 One of the loungers who lie in wait to steer strangers to 
 the booths of their friends, followed us around the 
 bazaar and afterwards through miles of streets, though 
 we kept telling him that we would purchase nothing 
 and had no need of his services. 
 
 On the stone approaches of a public building a 
 group of Druse cobblers had established themselves 
 with their few rude tools and pieces of leather. For the 
 novelty of the thing, I allowed one of them to put new 
 soles on my shoes. The work was done in twenty 
 minutes and at small charge. 
 
 On our return from Galata our attention was drawn 
 to a group of nine men, who were manoeuvering around 
 a huge wine butt. With its contents, it must have 
 weighed three tons. Strong poles were slipped through 
 nooses of the rope, which had been passed around the 
 barrel. At a signal each of the hamals stooped to bring 
 his shoulder under the ends of the poles, and at another 
 signal, they rose, lifting up the butt with them. On 
 they staggered up the hill, through the narrow streets, 
 making a stop every forty or fifty steps. Hardly any 
 wagons or carts are used for transportation in Constan- 
 tinople, but nearly all is done by hamals or carriers. 
 When we had paid our bills at the hotel, we had an 
 example of what these hamals can do in the carrying 
 line. One of them slung all our baggage on his shoul- 
 ders, making use of his carrying strap, and on he walked 
 across the Golden Horn to the railroad station in Stam- 
 bul, a distance of over a mile. He stopped to readjust 
 his burden only once on the entire way. 
 
 187 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 We were destined to have some vexatious experience 
 before leaving Constantinople. A bevy of Turkish 
 officials were sitting around a large table, at the rail- 
 road station, and demanded our passports before we 
 should buy our ticket. We had intended to buy a 
 through ticket to Salonica, with a stop-over at Adrian- 
 ople in European Turkey. By detaining us until the 
 last minute, they forced us to buy a ticket to Kuleli, 
 thus mulcting us for almost double the real fare. The 
 train was much crowded, so that we scarcely obtained 
 seats, much less accommodation to sleep. There was a 
 Jewish family who appropriated all the available room 
 in our coupe. I soon left it therefore and improvised 
 a bed in the passageway by means of a few valises and 
 handbags. The country was uninteresting: a rolling 
 prairie, sparsely settled. Farther on, darkness shut it out 
 from view altogether. All the way to Kuleli junction, 
 where we arrived next morning, and afterwards to Adri- 
 anople, the general character of the country remained 
 unchanged. The rivers and creeks were much swollen 
 on account of rain, which still continued. There are no 
 farmhouses, like those in other countries. The tillers 
 of the soil live together in miserable villages, preferring 
 to walk a few miles to their work even' day rather than 
 be exposed alone to the depredations of roving bands. 
 Very few are owners of the land they till : they are mere 
 day-laborers for the rich landowners. Kuleli station is 
 only a large wooden building, like a boarding house for 
 railroaders in frontier countries. Here we took the 
 train to Adrianople. The country hereabout must be 
 fertile, but the soil seems to be put to little use. One 
 is reminded of the western prairies of the United States. 
 Here and there a wheatpatch was seen and a rude 
 gathering of huts, a mere apology for a village. The 
 railroad station is two miles from the city of Adrianople ; 
 why the only railroad should pass two miles from 
 
 1 88 
 
Adrianople. 
 
 that important city of European Turkey only the per- 
 verse mind of the Turks might possibly explain. When 
 we arrived, the rain was pouring down in torrents, and 
 so the only sensible thing was to stop at the tavern 
 near the station. Accordingly we passed a few hours 
 here as best we might in the cold and damp rooms, 
 waiting for the rain to stop. 
 
 The two-wheeled cart, which we took later on to the 
 city, was certainly no improvement as to comfort. It 
 swayed to and fro on the great flat boulders, that formed 
 the pavement, throwing us from side to side without 
 mercy. We landed at the Resurrectionist college, church 
 and seminar} 7 . Both the lay brother, who received us, 
 and the rector, Father Mosser, had lived for a time in 
 Chicago. The rector had been a fellow student of Arch- 
 bishop Feehan and was in correspondence with Bishop 
 Muldoon. He prevailed upon us to take dinner with 
 him, during which we learned some interesting facts about 
 this part of the country 7 . Adrianople was founded by 
 the Emperor Adrian. The Turks made it their capital 
 in European Turkey some time before the taking of Con- 
 stantinople. This region was the scene of some heroic 
 battles, being located at the junction of the Suma, Arda, 
 and Maritza rivers and in the midst of a fertile territory. 
 
 Adrianople will no doubt yet play an important part 
 in the history 7 of Europe, when once Turkey will be par- 
 celed out among the Christian nations. The Russians 
 are very influential in all that concerns politics and are 
 steadily forging ahead. The "Young Turks" are be- 
 coming more and more numerous, especially in the 
 European provinces. They wish to do away with the 
 antiquated forms and customs of Mohammedanism, 
 and foment opposition to the tyranny of Abdul Hamid. 
 The most disagreeable feature of life in Turkey, the 
 father told us, is the mischief which eavesdroppers and 
 spies are able to do. One must be on continual guard 
 
 189 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 not to say anything that can be construed as a censure 
 of the government, though its rulings be ever so unjust 
 and tyrannical. The fathers here, however, are well 
 treated and have quite an influence in Adrianople. A 
 number of Turks are converted to the faith every year, 
 but the conversions from the Orthodox Greek church to 
 the united Catholic Greek are not frequent : the people 
 cannot be easily made to understand the difference be- 
 tween the Catholic and Orthodox churches. The papas 
 are said to drive many of the people from the Greek 
 church by their rapacity; most of these deserters join 
 the Catholic church. The fathers hold the services ac- 
 cording to the Greek rite, as most of the Catholics here 
 are united Greeks. 
 
 The church is moderately large and nicely decorated. 
 Like in all Greek churches, there is the iconostasis in 
 front, which divides the sanctuary from the rest of the 
 church. When the priest says mass, a curtain is drawn 
 across the opening in the middle of the inconostasis and 
 hides him from the beginning of the offertory to the end 
 of communion. As a natural consequence most of the 
 people leave before the end of the mass. Communion 
 is given in two species, and the communicants stand 
 while receiving. There are no confessionals in the 
 church; the Greeks make an open confession of their 
 sins to the priest and to the congregation. It is done 
 within hearing of both. Fasting among the Greeks is 
 much more rigorous and universal than among the 
 Roman Catholics. There is such a mixture of nationali- 
 ties in this congregation, that Father Mosser often has 
 occasion to use eight different languages in one day. 
 
 After dinner Father Mosser went out with us in spite 
 of the rain. From the top of an old fire tower we had a 
 fine new of Andrianople. Most of the narrow and crook- 
 ed streets are concealed by fine shade trees, which is 
 certainly something unusual for a Turkish city. The 
 
 190 
 
Through Macedonia. 
 
 Maritza and its two forks, the Suma and Arda, join to 
 make one large stream on the outskirts of the city. The 
 Selim mosque of Adrianople was extolled as being 
 equal in size and splendor to the Ahmed mosque in Con- 
 stantinople. Inside, on each side of the mihrab, at the 
 head of two high stairs, are two small pulpits, for reading 
 the Koran. In the extensive bazaar and in the main 
 streets, the merchants and the people looked trim and 
 businesslike. But the sloppy weather soon tired us in 
 our stroll and we were glad to get back to the station- 
 tavern for an early sleep, as we were to take the train to 
 Salonica at two o'clock in the morning. 
 
 For once there was no trouble with our teskere on 
 boarding the train and we were again rolling through the 
 dark fog and rain over a hilly country. Some stalwart 
 natives were in the car with us ; though belonging to the 
 common people, they were polite and well behaved. 
 Towards noon we had entered a more mountainous 
 country. Glimpses of the Mediterranean showed 
 through breaks in the hills. The seashore town of Deo- 
 dadegatch glided into view a few miles to our left. As 
 the train wound into the Maleka mountains a vast rock 
 plateau loomed up to the right. The weather had worn 
 the high cliffs into square blocks, that looked like the 
 towers of a city. The sun had in the meanwhile driven 
 off the rain clouds, giving additional charms to the wild 
 scenery. Presently the train flitted through several 
 tunnels and swung around into a wide and verdant valley, 
 which stretched away in front like a vast road cut 
 through a mountainous country. Far in the distance, 
 at the farthest end of the valley, the light of the evening 
 sun gleamed from the lake, around which the train 
 emerged into a more open, though not much more 
 settled country. At nine o'clock we arrived at the torch- 
 lighted station Salonica, the ancient Thessalonica. 
 
 Here we again fell into the robber hands of custom 
 
 191 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 officials. Though we had not left Turkish territory, 
 they scrutinized our teskere. Finding them in order, they 
 began to scatter the contents of our satchels. They gave 
 no heed to my loud and uncomplimentary remarks. 
 They would probably have given some attention to 
 them if they had been in a language known to them. 
 The unlucky Baedeckers of my traveling companions 
 were again yanked out in triumph and retained. They 
 are probably the best-read books in Turkey, that is, if 
 they really examine them as they claim. What a supreme 
 stupidity of these Turks, to withhold such a well-known 
 book under pretense of examining its contents for the ten- 
 thousandth time! No arguments as to their harmless- 
 ness would satisfy these blockheads or rather thieving 
 scoundrels; and we put ourselves in serious danger of 
 being arrested in trying to recover them by little less than 
 force. We had to leave them in their hands with small 
 hopes of getting them back in time for our departure 
 from Salonica. 
 
 And now under the flare of the torches began the 
 pandemonium of hotel runners, hack-drivers and their 
 hangers-on. With one fell swoop they pounced upon 
 the few Europeans, who made their exit from the station, 
 almost tearing them to pieces like a pack of wolves, in 
 order to secure a prize for some hotel, or a customer 
 for their carriage. After obtaining some kind of terms 
 from one of the runners, we were quickly brought to 
 hotel Colombo, where we had no reason for complaint 
 in regard to prices or accommodation. Supper was 
 quickly served and well enjoyed by us, for very little 
 chance of refreshment one has on Turkish railroads. 
 As the town seemed to be yet full of life, we afterwards 
 concluded to take a stroll through the streets. We were 
 much amused by the antics of a night-watchman. Pass- 
 ing the gate of an iron picket fence, we stopped to look 
 at the building behind it. While we stood there a watch- 
 
 192 
 
Salonica. 
 
 man across the street gave a signal by thumping his staff 
 on the stone pavement. This was answered by another 
 of his tribe farther on. Unsuspecting we continued our 
 stroll to the market, w T here many torch-lights cast around 
 a lurid glare. Unknown to us, however, we had been 
 shadowed by the suspicious watchman and we were soon 
 made aware of it, when we stood in a dark corner to 
 watch the lively scene. For there was our watchman 
 and four soldiers surrounding us at a distance of about 
 ten steps and watching our every motion. We kept up 
 the fun purposely for a while, lighting the cigars which we 
 had bought, and pretending to examine the door of an 
 old building where we stood. They were evidently at a 
 complete loss what to think of our motions. Nor did 
 they leave us until we had traversed quite a number of 
 streets. 
 
 The inhabitants seem to be a pleasure loving people, 
 for the cafes and taverns were well filled and music re- 
 sounded even' where. To our own hotel was annexed 
 a beer-garden, (or rather a raki-garden), which was 
 well patronized. In the background a large open stage 
 was occupied by a band of Bohemian girl-musicians, 
 such as are often found in southern Europe. At the end 
 of each selection played, one of them went around with a 
 plate, collecting voluntary contributions. Others would 
 glide off the stage to lavish the charms of their conver- 
 sation on those willing to receive them. Salonica seems 
 quite cosmopolitan as regards nationality or language, 
 for we heard several different languages spoken around 
 us. 
 
 The Catholic church is in the neighborhood of the 
 hotel. It is a spacious structure, newly built. As it is 
 the only church in Salonica for Catholics, the fathers 
 are obliged to preach in half a dozen languages. After 
 mass a German father invited us to breakfast. Later 
 on, our guide of yesterday hunted us up to show us some 
 
 193 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 of the sights of Salonica. The business houses along 
 the quay look somewhat modern, probably because 
 business is mostly in the hands of Greeks. On one 
 end of the quay is an old fortress and beyond some very 
 fine residence quarters. Between them and the Jewish 
 quarters is the old church of St. George, serving as a 
 mosque. The entire interior is covered with mosaics, 
 but the Turks are letting the building go to decay. A 
 still older church is that of San Dimitri. It dates back 
 to the second century, being no doubt the oldest building 
 originally used for a Catholic church in Europe. Of 
 course the Turks have possession of it and are letting it 
 fall to ruins. A hungry-looking hadshi opened the 
 ancient portals in order to show us the building. Two 
 rows of granite pillars, all battered and chipped, rise 
 about halfway to support the blackened timbers of the 
 roof. The upper part of the church has the appearance 
 of being the open trusswork of a foundry roof, so much 
 dirt has blackened the timbers ; yet the building seems 
 to stand firm and solid. In the rear under a dark vault, 
 the Moslem showed us a stone slab, full of dirt and can- 
 dle drippings. He said it was the grave of San Dimitri. 
 Saint Demetrius was a martyr of the second century. 
 It is easily possible that his body once rested under that 
 dirty stone in the ruinous vault. But what connection 
 had Islamism with a man who died for Christ and the 
 Catholic religion? What reason had this ragged and 
 untidy Moslem to show us his grave as something to be 
 venerated? None other than the hope of bakshish. 
 They are willing at any time to take over a consignment 
 of Christian saints and pretend to hold them in equal 
 veneration with their fraudulent prophet, if they promise 
 to bring a harvest of bakshish. We left the gaunt keeper 
 of San Dimitri in a somewhat flurried condition, for he 
 had imprudently aroused our displeasure by his fanatic 
 bigotry. Why should this ragged Moslem forbid us to 
 
 194 
 
Custom Troubles. 
 
 to step on the dirty shreds of carpet ? Or why should he 
 deem our feet more unworthy to tread on the pavement 
 of a stolen Christian church, on which he and his raga- 
 muffin brother Moslems passed over at will ? If he ex- 
 pected a double bakshish, he should have dispensed 
 with some of his nonsensical formalities. 
 
 On calling at the custom house for our books we found 
 it closed. It was Friday, and how could a giaour expect 
 a Moslem to stir on Friday ? The police superintendent 
 merely expressed his sorrow for his inability to procure 
 them for us. We fared no better at the American con- 
 sulate. The consul could not speak intelligible English 
 and I had to do business with him in French. We were 
 mulcted two dollars for a vise of our pass: the Turk 
 fines you for coming into his country and fines you again 
 for leaving it. The American consul in our case was 
 the collector of this outrageous taxation. We had to 
 leave a few more dollars in order to obtain the promise 
 of sending the Baedeckers on to Patras, Greece, as soon 
 as they could be recovered from the custom house. The 
 advantages of being an American citizen were far from 
 being self-evident to us in Salonica. 
 
 Our runner brought us notice that a freighted steamer 
 was to leave for Volo in Greece at five o'clock and that 
 we might obtain passage in her. We packed up in a 
 hurry and rushed to the quay. The steamer was lying 
 out in the harbor among many other vessels. The custom 
 house officials were on hand to examine our teskere: 
 it seems the first thing these beggars would do in rescu- 
 ing a man that fell into the water, would be to examine 
 whether he had a right to fall off a Turkish quay without 
 paying bakshish. The last Turk, who made an assault 
 on our pocketbook was the boatman. Without much 
 regret we shook the dust of the land of bakshish and 
 teskere from our feet, and turned our faces toward the 
 classic shores of Greece. 
 
 195: 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 Practical Hints. Unless the saving of time is of very great 
 importance, travelers from Palestine, who wish to see Constan- 
 tinople and Greece, will do well to take one of the coasting steam- 
 ers at Jaffa. The large passenger steamers generally make no 
 stops except in Athens, Smyrna, and Constantinople. The 
 smaller ones will pick up freight and passengers all along the 
 coast of Asia Minor and at the islands of the Aegean sea. With- 
 out any extra expense, and not a great consumption of time, the 
 traveler will thus see many interesting places. Those that wish 
 to have no annoyances at landing or during railroad travel in 
 Turkey, should have their passes in order. No doubt a bakshish 
 slipped into the hands of the officials would cover up a multitude 
 of neglect in many places, perhaps everywhere. But the risk of 
 being detained of course in one place or the other is ever present. 
 Wherever any custom examinations are expected, a few silver 
 coins will work wonders anywhere in Turkey; they always expect 
 donations. Many travelers prefer to submit to the imposition, 
 rather than be annoyed or detained. The morality of giving 
 such bribes hardly comes into question ; for the laws which cause 
 this kind of annoyance, especially in regard to passes, are most 
 unreasonable and infringe on the natural rights of travelers. 
 Besides, the practice of bribing officials in Turkey is almost legal 
 and serenely tolerated. 
 
 106 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 On the Shores of Thessaly — Volo — Delaying 
 a Steamer — A Lively Lieutenant — Past Clas- 
 sic Scenes — The Piraeus and Athens — Ruins 
 of the stathion and the acropolis — the par- 
 THENON — Lively Gatherings — On the Elysian 
 Fields — Scrambling about among Historic 
 Ruins. 
 
 The Roumania was a Belgian steamer and Captain 
 Coppens had his share of troubles with the Turkish har- 
 bor officials. There was a lively discussion about some 
 formality between a bevy of these ne'er-do-well Turks 
 and the officers of the ship as we boarded her. How- 
 ever the captain had a summary way of dealing with the 
 noisy blusterers: he hustled them off into their boats 
 and started the machines agoing. The Turks had done 
 us a good turn without knowing it; if they had not 
 detained the steamer, we would have come too late. As 
 the heavily laden Roumania swung slowly out of the 
 harbor, the departing sun shone from the white build- 
 ings and the hillsides of old Salonica. Later on, as 
 the vessel held its course southward through the Aegean 
 sea, the starry night held peaceful sway over the quiet 
 waters and phantom shores of Thessaly to our left. Our 
 captain was quite a jovial fellow and made us feel quite 
 at home on the Roumania. As there were no cabins 
 for passengers, he arranged sleeping places for us on the 
 soft cushions of the dining-room seats. While sitting 
 with him and a couple of the officers in the dining-room, 
 he related some of his experiences on the Mediterranean, 
 nor was he backward in offering us other good things 
 
 197 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 to gladden the heart of a guest. He seemed well pleased 
 to have some Americans and a priest aboard. 
 
 Early next morning we found ourselves in the Gulf 
 of Volo, heading for the town of Volo, the ancient Jolcas. 
 Wooded mountains arose on the shores of the gulf and 
 islands around, and peaceful villages nestled at the 
 water's edge. Volo is a lively town, spread along the 
 curving harbor. Since the railroad connects it with 
 the interior of Thessaly, a new addition has grown up, 
 which is larger than the old town. A half a year ago 
 the passport nuisance was abolished in Greece, so that 
 we had no difficulty in landing at any of its ports. On 
 inquiry at the railroad station, we found the schedule 
 of trains rather inconvenient, and so reluctantly gave 
 up an excursion to the mountains of Thessaly. 
 
 On a hill of the old town the open market presented 
 a lively scene in the bright sunshine. On Saturday all 
 kinds of petty merchants gather here, who spread their 
 wares on rude tables under awnings or on the bare 
 ground in the open air. The merchandise exposed for 
 sale was mostlv such as is used in the households of the 
 common people. Good natured crowds moved up and 
 down between the rows of stands. Most of them were 
 dressed in modern fashion, though there was a sprinkling 
 of such as were dressed in a mongrel European and 
 Turkish garb, or in ancient mountaineer style. The 
 mountaineers wear kilts, something like the highlanders 
 in Scotland, only the kilts are made of white muslin and 
 voluminously plaited. These dresses are so short that 
 they reach only up to the knees, and make the sturdy 
 men look like ballet dancers. The legs downward are 
 often bare, or covered with leather lacings, which run 
 up from the sandals. 
 
 Seeing some Greek taverns, we concluded to try a 
 meal in one of them. A crowd of men were standing 
 at the wine counter, much in the fashion of our American 
 
 198 
 
Aegean Isles, 
 
 bars. The rest of the room was taken up by rude tables, 
 on which the customers were served with eatables from 
 the open kitchen in one corner. The place resounded 
 with jokes and laughter and animated conversation. 
 As strangers we attracted curious glances. Those pres- 
 ent readily entered into the fun of the situation, when 
 I tried some of the Greek, which I had studied on board 
 ship. The new Greek, which is in use now, differs con- 
 siderably from the Greek of colleges, especially as re- 
 gards the pronounciation of the letters. There are two 
 or three participial constructions which are foreign to 
 ancient Greek, yet it would not be so hard for any one 
 who has not neglected his Greek at college altogether, 
 to familiarize himself with the new language. At the end 
 of our short stay in Greece, I could make myself tolerably 
 well understood. The Greeks who gathered around us 
 at our table, spoke in high praise of the United States, 
 and in the same breath they gave expression to their 
 hatred of the Turks. The wine and fare pleased us very 
 well, though it was of the simplest and served up in the 
 most unsophisticated manner. 
 
 Proceeding along the beautiful quay to the new 
 town, we heard that the steamer Paeneios was about to 
 leave for the Piraeus of Athens. As we conjectured 
 that we had seen the most interesting part of Volo and 
 opportunities of departure would probably be scarce, 
 we hastened to tranship our baggage to the Paeneios and 
 to become one of her passengers. When we were as yet 
 only a short distance from the shore, one of the steamers 
 began to throw up clouds of black smoke and slowly 
 move away. Our boatman gave us to understand that 
 he feared it was the Paeneios. Frantically we shouted 
 and waved our hats toward the departing steamer in 
 order to induce it to wait for us. But no one seemed 
 to notice any of our signs. It was just as well; on row- 
 ing a little farther out into the harbor, we found that 
 
 199 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 the Paeneios was still listlessly lying at anchor. There 
 was plenty of time for us to embark. 
 
 We had not purchased any tickets ashore and I in- 
 quired from one of the passengers about the price of 
 passage. I was much surprised, when the purser came 
 around to collect about twice as much as some of the 
 other passengers had paid for their passage. I stoutly 
 refused to pay more than the rest. He began to storm 
 and rage and called up a few of the crew. The captain 
 of the vessel also came up to add to the fracas. Partly 
 in French and partly in Greek he gave me to understand, 
 that the steamer was kept waiting on our account. The 
 situation was getting to be humorous. I told them they 
 need not detain the steamer on my account: I would 
 pay what the rest of the passengers had paid and no more. 
 I was getting curious to find out what these storming 
 Greeks would do, and how long they would delay their 
 big steamer in order to get the paltry advantage over us. 
 As if they could not easily force us to pay the bagatelle 
 by retaining some of our baggage at Athens ! Three or 
 four sailors grabbed hold of my arm several times in 
 order to eject us by force. But somehow or other, a 
 threatening look and a peremptory command not to 
 touch me, though given in emphatic U. S. idiom, always 
 made them desist. Finally the purser compromised the 
 matter by saying, that the persons I had pointed out to 
 him had gotten their tickets cheaper by mistake, and that 
 they too would have to pay up the balance. As I did not 
 want to make others suffer by prolonging a joke, I ac- 
 quiesced and promised to pay about two-thirds of what 
 he had asked. We had detained the steamer about 
 twenty minutes, and gradually the passengers, who were 
 all Greeks, had gathered on deck around us to see the 
 issue. 
 
 A bevy of Greek army officers seemed to have enjoyed 
 the fun as much as ourselves, especially a young lieuten- 
 
 200 
 
Shores of Attica. 
 
 ant, by the name of Karras. He hovered around me 
 during the entire voyage, asking a great many questions 
 about the United States, and giving me much information 
 about the interesting scenery through which we passed. 
 The Greek of which I was capable was of course very 
 defective, but we managed to make out each other's 
 meaning. In the course of the afternoon we traversed 
 the gulf of Volo, entered the narrow channel of the 
 Negropont, or ancient sinus Euboeicus, headed round the 
 northern end of the island of Euboea, and passed the 
 Thermopylae. Towards evening we approached ancient 
 Chalcis, at which harbor the vessel stopped during the 
 greater part of the night. We were continually within 
 sight of most picturesque mountains on both sides, and 
 many a town passed in review, both on the mainland to 
 the right as well as on the shores of the island of Euboea, 
 the largest in the Aegean sea. 
 
 Lieutenant Karras woke me early in the morning to 
 call my attention to the city of Chalcis, nestled at the 
 foot of the mountains in a spacious bay. The island of 
 Euboea runs parallel to a great part of the eastern coast 
 of Greece. Between it and the mainland are the Talanta 
 and the Euripo channels. As we issued from the last 
 named channel into the gulf of Petali, the group of the 
 Cyclades islands came to view in the south. We were 
 soon able to distinguish the islands of Nio, Tino, Sertho, 
 Naxia, Andro, Zea, Syra and others of classical renown. 
 On the mountain heights to our right gleamed the white 
 pillars of ancient temples. Then we passed Laurion, 
 on the lower shores of Attica, and soon the headlands of 
 the Peloponnesus rose ahead of us. Our vessel veered 
 to the northward into the gulf of Aegina, passing the 
 island of Aegina and Salamis to the left. 
 
 The shores of Attica to our right formed a gradual 
 slope up to the mountains behind the city of Athens. 
 About six miles inward the white temple of the Parthe- 
 
 201 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents 
 
 non on the Acroplis loomed up. Behind it lies Athens, 
 and above it are seen the surrounding mountains of the 
 Parnassus, the Pentelicus, and the Immittos. About 
 six miles south of Athens is its harbor, the Piraeus, 
 being at the north end of the gulf of Aegina. The 
 Piraeus harbor is completely landlocked, excepting a 
 narrow passage. Quite a number of ships were at 
 anchor. A new town has sprung up around the harbor, 
 and the whole has an air of enterprise and business, to 
 which one is not accustomed after coming from Turkish 
 countries. We had no trouble in establishing ourselves 
 in one of the suburban trains that run to Athens. 
 Among the most noted of the pleasure resorts along the 
 road, is the Phalerae garden. Its drives, walks, and 
 summer houses were swarming with the gay crowds of 
 the pleasure-loving Athenians. In Athens we took 
 lodgings at the hotel Kamphaxes, where we had fine 
 accommodations at moderate prices. A guide, who had 
 joined us at the railroad station, but whom we had re- 
 fused to engage, waylaid us at the entrance of the hotel, 
 waiting until we should come out. 
 
 Though we told him several times, that we were out 
 merely for a walk, he followed us up to the great square 
 de la Constitution in front of the royal palaces and 
 gardens. Athens is to a great extent a modern city ; the 
 architecture of the buildings, even the smaller ones shows 
 a remarkably fine taste and the streets have a neat and 
 tidy appearance. One side of the place de la Consti- 
 tution is faced by the royal palaces. In front of these is 
 a terraced public garden, full of luxurious trees and 
 shrubbery, divided by tastefully arranged walks. The 
 other three sides are lined with large hotels and public 
 buildings, which enclose the spacious square or piazza. 
 Crowds of people taking their Sunday outing filled the 
 square. Rows of tables were placed at some distance 
 from the cafes and restaurants. Our self -constituted 
 
 202 
 
Athens. 
 
 guide urged us to sit down at one of these tables 
 and order some refreshments, with which we not un- 
 willingly complied. 
 
 At a small distance to the rear of the palaces are the 
 Olympic exposition grounds, where the Americans 
 some years ago took away so many prizes in the Olympic 
 games. The grounds border both banks of the classic 
 Illyssus, which is merely a small, now mostly dry, creek, 
 running through Athens, and near it are the remains of 
 the ancient Stathion. It is a vast race-course in the 
 form of a long quadrilateral with rounded corners, sur- 
 rounded on all sides with many tiers of marble steps or 
 seats. The Sakkas brothers have by their magnificence, 
 restored about half the seats of this Stathion. On this 
 arena the ancient Olympic games of Athens took place. 
 At the upper end still stand some columns, which record 
 the deeds of the champions of old. The grounds on this 
 side of the Illyssus are laid out in beautiful parks, where 
 among other monuments, stands also that of the poet 
 Bvron, the great admirer of Greece. Behind and to the 
 left of the Stathion the columns of the famous temple of 
 Jupiter peer over the trees. A modern exposition hall 
 stands on a hill overlooking the park and the Stathion. 
 
 The open space around the exposition building was 
 swarming with gay crowds, either sitting at tables or 
 promenading about. Whole families were enjoying the 
 open air and listening to the artistic performances of a 
 band of musicians, paid by the city. The ladies appeared 
 in very tasteful costumes and the gentlemen rivaled them 
 in elegance of appearance. The features of the better 
 class of Greeks are well proportioned. On the whole I 
 have not seen such well-dressed and fine-looking people 
 anywhere else. The manners of the Greeks also struck 
 me as especially pleasing. On the way back to the 
 hotel our guide induced us to witness a play in a theatre, 
 which I did not find very interesting, probably because I 
 
 203 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 could understand only the drift of the plot. Of course it 
 must have been much more interesting to my companion, 
 for he fell asleep in the first act. The hotel people showed 
 themselves very attentive to our wants, and we were 
 therefore well pleased with our first experience in Athens. 
 
 Xext day, after celebrating mass in the Italian church, 
 our objective point was the Acropolis and its ruins. 
 Passing the place de la Constitution and thence a few 
 more narrow streets, we reached the approaches of the 
 rocky cliff called the Acropolis. An iron picket fence 
 surrounds the approaches and a small fee is collected at 
 the entrance. Passing the ruins at the foot of the hill, 
 we proceeded at once up the rocky sides to the propylae, 
 or colonnades, which line both sides of the passage up to 
 the x\cropolis, and are part of the Sacred road, or Agia 
 Ode. This road led from the temple of Eleusis, near 
 Salamis, about seven miles away, to the doors of the 
 Parthenon on the plateau of the Acropolis, and as the 
 rocks fall off quite precipitously, a passage had to be cut 
 through to the top. On one end of the propylae still 
 stands the small temple of Victor}*, which has been re- 
 stored from the heap of ruins to which it had been 
 reduced by the ravages of centuries. 
 
 Up this stony and steep passage, and between grace- 
 ful colonnades of the propyla^a, the glorious pageant, 
 formed according to the mysterious rites in the temple 
 of Eleusis, annually wended its way from the Elysian 
 plains. Thence the priests and priestesses in their 
 chariots proceeded along the plateau to the great tem- 
 ple of Athens, or the Parthenon, drawing after them 
 the thronging multitudes to witness the conclusion of 
 the sacred rites. Often, no doubt, the overflowing 
 crowds could not be contained in the Parthenon and 
 would fill the rocky plateau, the Erechthion to the left, 
 and the old Pelasgian temple, the oldest of them all, 
 aside of it. 
 
 204 
 
The Parthenon, 
 
 In our times of course no such gathering takes place. 
 Bands of curious tourists climb this hill in order to 
 admire the beauty and grandeur still lingering about 
 the crumbling ruins. But let us try and obtain some 
 kind of a picture of that celebrated hill as it looks to-day. 
 Having reached the upper end of the propylaea, the 
 whole of the rocky plateau lies before you. It seems 
 about eight hundred feet long by five hundred wide, and 
 an irregular quadrangle in shape. Old fortification 
 walls run around the edges of the cliff, enclosing the 
 whole. To the right of you, at about four hundred feet 
 distance, rises the Parthenon, the most renowned temple- 
 ruin of classic times; to the left are the much smaller 
 ruins of the Erechthion and the Pelasgian temple. In 
 some places the rocky plateau is strewn with fragments of 
 carved rocks ; but the most valuable of these are gathered 
 and preserved in the museum, which lies on the farther 
 end and to the right of the plateau. 
 
 After this general view of the Acropolis, let us pro- 
 ceed to a more close inspection of the ruins. Most of 
 the pillars of the propylaea are still standing, but the 
 frieze above them is missing in several places. On one 
 side of the propylaea, on a projecting cliff, stands the 
 restored temple of Victory, while the four walls of an- 
 other structure occupy the corresponding projection of 
 the rock on the other side. Proceeding toward the left 
 near the middle of the plateau we come to the Erechthion, 
 a small temple, almost square and minus its roof. It 
 is especially remarkable for the Caryatides, noble statues 
 of virgins, bearing on their heads the roof of a portico 
 at its rear end. Five of these pillars still carry the frieze, 
 as they have done now for over two thousand years, and 
 these exquisite sculptures have been the admiration of 
 many generations of men. The front of the Erechthion, 
 which is on the side opposite to the propylaea, is adorned 
 by exquisitely graceful Corinthian pillars. Behind them 
 
 205 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 is the main wall of the temple, half fallen to pieces. 
 Adjoining the Erechthion are the remains of the Pelasgian 
 temple, the oldest of them all. It is merely a heap of 
 stones, above which some of the old walls project, so 
 that its size can be well traced. It is worthy of notice 
 because it antedates all the other ruins by seven or eight 
 hundred years, for this temple was erected by the first 
 settlers- of Greece, the Pelasgians. The walls that en- 
 circle the plateau are remains of fortifications built in the 
 Christian era, though in many places they rest on founda- 
 tions laid by the ancient Greeks. 
 
 The crowning glory of the Acropolis and of Athens, 
 however, will always be the temple of the goddess 
 Athenae, called the Parthenon. The ground on which 
 it is built is somewhat higher than the rest of the plateau. 
 The platform of solid marble forms an oblong twice as 
 long as it is w T ide. On the four sides of this platform rise 
 the vast fluted Corinthian pillars and, parallel to them, 
 an inside wall. The wall and the pillars support the low 
 pitched roof. Under the eaves upon the pillars rests 
 the exquisitely carved frieze or cornice, which on the 
 ends of the two side walls of the temple widens out to 
 form the low triangle of the front gable. This front, 
 which faces the propylaea, is the only side which is still 
 entire. The sculptures above the frieze in the front tri- 
 angle are the admiration of all lovers of art. The friezes 
 all around the temple in the time of Alexander were 
 covered with plates of beaten gold, and the dazzling rays 
 of the sun were cast from this golden crown on the sum- 
 mit of the Acropolis far and wide over the surrounding 
 country. The whole structure is of the whitest Pentelican 
 marble. In the middle of the temple stood the statue of 
 Athenae. But only insignificant traces of the treas- 
 ures of art in and outside of this temple remain. The 
 ravages of time and the neglect and vandalism of the 
 Turks have destroyed most of the works of art, which the 
 
 206 
 
On the Acropolis. 
 
 munificence of Cimon and Aristides and the art of 
 Phidias and Ichthinos called into existence on this 
 plateau. 
 
 The Turks, about a century ago, made use of this 
 temple as a storehouse for ammunitions of war. A 
 spark falling into the powder magazine resulted in a 
 fearful explosion which tore off the entire roof, except 
 a little part of it on the south end, destroyed the side 
 walls, and overthrew the pillars in the middle of the two 
 longer sides. But the broken rows of pillars on each 
 side and the still perfect rows in front and in the rear 
 even now give the exquisite outlines of the temple as it 
 stood in the zenith of Greek glory. Each one of these 
 vast fluted Corinthian columns, aspiring gracefully to 
 the entablature, is a thing of beauty forever to the student 
 of art. The secret of the beautiful proportions of this 
 temple lies in its outlines, which are so arranged as to 
 correct the faults of the perspective, inherent to the 
 human vision. From whatever side or position the be- 
 holder views the structure it will always give the impres- 
 sion of perfect proportion. Thus it happens that these 
 pillars, which look so straight and seem to stand 
 perfectly perpendicular, are not really quite straight and 
 are not standing perfectly perpendicular. They were so 
 constructed and placed as to correct the diminution 
 which the upper parts necessarily suffer, in the perspec- 
 tive of the beholder as he stands on the ground. What 
 modern ingenuity has invented in order to correct the 
 aberration of rays in photographic lenses, the Greek 
 architects have done for the beholder of this temple in 
 adapting its outlines to the perspective of the beholder. 
 
 But let us pass again through the propylaea and 
 descend on the pathway to the left. We come to the 
 immense arches of an extensive wall built of dark stone ; 
 it is the theatre of Herod, and is built at the foot of the 
 hill. More ruins of Roman times are spread about in 
 
 207 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 this neighborhood. On the farther end is the theatre 
 of Dionysius or Bacchus, leaning up against the steep 
 rocks of the hill. The proscenium and tiers upon tiers 
 of marble seats rising in a semicircle and exquisitely 
 carved, are still standing after two thousand years of 
 exposure. 
 
 We obtained a plentiful meal in a nearby tavern at 
 ridiculously low prices, and then continued our excursion 
 and sight-seeing. Next to the Parthenon the great 
 temple of Jupiter near the Stathion is the most renowned 
 ruin of Athens. The Roman emperor Adrian has left 
 many proofs of his munificence in all parts of Greece, 
 especially in Athens, and this temple is one of the most 
 noteworthy. At the entrance to the temple-grounds is 
 Adrian's arch. It rivals in size and beauty the arches of 
 Titus and Constantine in Rome. On the open grounds 
 behind it are seen the great pillars of the temple of 
 Jupiter. The roof of this temple was carried by fifty- 
 six Corinthian pillars of vast proportions. Only a few 
 of these pillars are still standing, while some are lying 
 in fragments on the ground in the same position as they 
 fell. The sections are six feet in diameter, about seven 
 feet long, of Pentelican marble, and were so closely 
 joined to each other that no seams are visible in the 
 pillars that have not fallen. The platform, which 
 formed the floor of the temple, is yet entire, and on one 
 end of this platform a group of these pillars rise to a 
 height of sixty-five feet. The temple of Jupiter was 
 begun in the year 467 before Christ and finished by 
 Adrian in the year of our Lord 147, a building period of 
 614 years. 
 
 During the rest of the afternoon we visited the tower 
 of the winds, one of the oldest monuments of Athens, 
 the ruins of the Roman forum, and the cemetery on the 
 Elysian or Holy Road. In this cemetery, gravestones 
 and monumental statues that were put up in the time of 
 
 208 
 
The Museum. 
 
 Pericles and Themistocles, can yet be seen. Later on 
 we paid our visit to the national museum. It contains 
 any amount of statues from ancient times in a state of 
 greater or less preservation. The most notable are the 
 statue of Minerva from the chisel of Phidias, the Lao- 
 coon group, and the god Apollo. Many other relics of 
 ancient times, too numerous to describe, are preserved 
 in the spacious buildings. As the rain interfered with 
 farther movements, we preferred to spend the rest of the 
 day at our hotel. 
 
 209 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Through the Straits of Corinth — Amid the 
 Cloud-swept Ruins of Acro-Corinth — Per- 
 ennial Founts — The Vine-clad Hills and 
 Shores of Achaia — Patras and Olympia of 
 Old — Vast Fields of Olympian Ruins — On 
 the Ionian Sea — Corfu and the Coasts of 
 Epirus — Across the Adriatic — Practical 
 Hints — Important Appendix. 
 
 Next day we had set apart for a visit to the ruins of 
 Eleusis, about seven miles distant, and situated on the 
 bay of Lepsina, opposite the island of Salamis. This 
 excursion includes at the same time a drive over the 
 Agia Ode, (Holy Road) through the greater part of the 
 city, and through the beautiful plains that stretch away 
 to the bay of Salamis and to the mountains. The Holy 
 Road crosses over the plains southwest of the city and 
 enters the defiles of the mountain-spurs near the shores 
 of the bay of Lepsina. Having passed the hills, it winds 
 in a wide sweep around a bend of the shore to the ruins 
 of Eleusis. Extensive excavations have been made on 
 the site of the ancient temples, where the Eleusinian 
 mysteries were performed. The ruins lie to the right 
 of the road at the foot of a hill on which stands a small 
 Greek chapel. About an acre of ground is covered with 
 fragments of statues, pillars, and carved stones, etc., 
 that once were part of the many buildings, now fallen 
 to ruins. The excavators have laid bare the foundations 
 of most of the temples, so that they can be pretty well 
 traced. 
 
 The oldest relic is the Pelasgian temple of Pluto, 
 
 211 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 which was only a small enclosure in the front end of the 
 deep cave of Pluto in the side of the hill. Around this 
 old Pelasgian temple many additions had been made 
 in the course of centuries. The latest of them is the 
 temple of Adrian. Part of the colonnade, which led 
 from the Pelasgian temple to the place where the Eleu- 
 sinian mysteries were celebrated, is still to be seen. 
 Rows of marble seats, running partly up the hill in a 
 semicircle, mark the mysterious quarters of this temple- 
 complex, where none but the initiated were ever allowed 
 to set foot, and where in later times the orgies of Dio- 
 nysius or Bacchus took place. At the farther end of 
 the ruins, old Roman fortifications rise out of the waters. 
 Beyond the summit of the hill is an ancient temple, still 
 under roof, though 2,000 years old. It is used as a mu- 
 seum, where a large collection of broken statues and 
 fragments from the neighboring ruins are collected. 
 The best preserved relics are a Venus, a Bacchus, and 
 a Ceres. From the top of the hill the eye scans the 
 Eleusinian fields. 
 
 The remainder of the afternoon we spent in visiting 
 once more the Acropolis and its immediate surroundings. 
 Adjoining the hill of the Acropolis, opposite to the 
 propylaea, is the hill of the Areopagus. Its rocky sum- 
 mit is excavated in many places, showing the remains 
 of the public buildings. On the declivities of the Areop- 
 agus, farthest from the propylaea, lie many acres of 
 ruins where the streets which portioned off the squares 
 are still traceable. On the other side of a deep ravine 
 is the hill of the Nymphs. The ruins of a large temple 
 and dwellings adjoining it are quite extensive. Here 
 the priestesses of Minerva resided in olden times. The 
 remains of the great monument of Philopapos crown 
 the top of another hill, a quarter of a mile to the left. 
 The temple of Theseus is not far from the Ode Agia, 
 on the southern outskirts of Athens. It is the only one 
 
 212 
 
THE ACROPOLIS 
 
 RUINS OF OLYMPIA 
 
The Areopagus, 
 
 besides the one just mentioned which is yet under roof 
 and entire. It is in the same style as the Parthenon on 
 the Acropolis, though much smaller and without the 
 fine proportions and exquisite ornaments peculiar to 
 the Parthenon. The Corinthian pillars surrounding 
 it are still standing. 
 
 In order to make the entire circuit of the Acropolis, 
 we returned by way of the Areopagus to the west side 
 of the Acropolis hill, opposite to the theatre of Herod 
 mentioned above. This whole western side of the hill 
 is occupied by old fortification walls. ' They overhang 
 the cliffs above and abut on the sides. Soon we were 
 entangled in a maze of narrow passages between old 
 ruins and small huts, where the poorest Athenians have 
 their abode. The passages were mere paths running 
 up and down the cliffs halfway up the Acropolis. The 
 lights of the city began to gleam below us and we were 
 getting somewhat anxious. We would not have found 
 our way out of this labyrinth, if one of the urchins had 
 not come to our aid and led us through steep ravines 
 and through the old walls of ruinous huts to the street 
 below. We were glad to be again in the well lighted 
 portion of the city. For a diversion we went for an 
 hour or two to the hippodrome or circus, for which the 
 Athenians have an extra building. The performances 
 were of an inferior kind, except those of one of the riders, 
 who atoned for the rest of the company and the stale 
 jokes of the clowns. On the whole, however, we 
 regretted the loss of an hour's sleep, which we might 
 have enjoyed instead of sitting on the hard benches of 
 the hippodrome. 
 
 Having missed the morning train for Corinth, we 
 were obliged to wait till noon. While we were waiting 
 for our breakfast at the restaurant, funereal music 
 resounded through the drizzling morning air. A regi- 
 ment of soldiers, who seemed rather of small stature and 
 
 213 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 who kept rank and step but indifferently, presently 
 marched through the sloppy street. Behind them fol- 
 lowed a procession of black-robed papas and other 
 mourners, chanting a mournful song. The hearse was 
 exquisitely decorated with a profusion of flowers. It 
 was the funeral of a Greek papa or priest. Next after 
 the hearse came about two hundred of the cavalry and 
 many civilians in carriages. 
 
 Our bill at the hotel was moderate. We were well 
 pleased with Athens and its inhabitants. The train to 
 Corinth was crowded, but we managed to get a seat near 
 the window, and so were enabled to enjoy the beautiful 
 scenery along the road. After passing Eleusis and the 
 island of Salamis,*the railroad skirts the gulf of Aegina 
 up to the narrow isthmus of Corinth. The sun had in 
 the meanwhile broken through the rain clouds, and shone 
 brightly over the limpid waters to our left and the varied 
 mountain scenery to our right. Like a snake the train 
 wound along the rocky cliffs of the abrupt seashore, 
 high above the blue expanse of the sea and the wave- 
 worn, rocky beach. Our train crossed the deep canal, 
 which now connects the waters of the Corinthian gulf 
 on the west with that of the Gulf of Aegina on the east. 
 Though the canal is only seven miles long, it is a 
 remarkable engineering feat on account of the great 
 depth to which it had to be cut into the solid rock. As 
 we passed over its iron bridge, it seemed only a small 
 creek in a deep abyss. Beyond lies New Corinth, in 
 the province of Morea, the ancient Peloponnesus. 
 
 The present town of Corinth is built about five miles 
 from the old Corinth and nearer to the water. Old Cor- 
 inth was situated at the foot of a vast rocky cliff, some 
 four miles from the shore. Only a small gathering of 
 miserable huts, built upon hills of ruins, mark the site of 
 the ancient city. As it was yet early in the afternoon 
 when we left the train, we at once hired one of the clumsy 
 
 214 
 
ACRO-CORINTH, 
 
 country stages to bring us there. Very little of the ruins 
 are visible, for they lie buried twenty or thirty feet below 
 hills of debris and accumulated soil. Fields of grain and 
 pastures now meet the eye, where the city once stood. 
 Great excavations have been made and were then in 
 progress on the outskirts of the village. Fortunately the 
 foreman, who was directing the excavations, spoke Eng- 
 lish and kindly volunteered some information regarding 
 the ruins recently uncovered. 
 
 They were the remains of ancient temples, that had 
 been built over and around the perennial fountains, so 
 often mentioned in the classics. The greater part of a 
 large hill had been removed. Twenty feet below the sur- 
 face, the foundations of temples, the intricate systems of 
 conduits for distributing the waters of the fountains 
 through the large complex of buildings and, under the 
 walls of an old temple of the time of Pausanias, the Per- 
 ennial fountains had lately been discovered. Four of 
 the seven bronze lionheads, through which the waters 
 gushed forth, still protruded from the old walls. Some 
 distance from these excavations the rock-hewn caves 
 over the fountain of Glaukus had also been brought to 
 the light of day. The only monument of antiquity which 
 had been visible before any excavations were made, were 
 the remains of a Doric temple. It must have been stood 
 on a considerable eminence, which explains the fact that 
 it was not buried beneath the soil like the rest of the city. 
 All that remained of it are three Doric pillars standing on 
 one corner of the temple platform. They are at least 
 three thousand years old. The dark granite, of which 
 they are hewn, is crumbling away from age and the tem- 
 ple floor is covered for the most part by a drift of sand. 
 
 The great mount to the south of Corinth is called the 
 Aero-Corinth. Its rocky cliffs, rising perpendicularly 
 two thousand feet above the plain, are crowned by for- 
 tification walls, perhaps the most picturesque in the 
 
 2I 5 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 world. This stronghold dates from the Venetian occu- 
 pation in the twelfth century. I wished to ascend to the 
 summit, though the foreman of the excavations party 
 thought that I would not be able to find the way alone, 
 and that I would not have time before nightfall to accom- 
 plish the journey. Nevertheless I started out to climb 
 the intervening hills toward a ridge, that seemed to afford 
 a gradual ascent half way up the east side of the moun- 
 tain. Having reached the place where the ridge meets 
 the sides of the Aero-Corinth, progress seemed at an end, 
 for I stood before an almost perpendicular ascent of 
 broken rocks, and the fortification walls were yet at a 
 great distance above us. Only by using hands and feet 
 and reaching out for overhanging roots and projections, I 
 wound gradually higher and higher around the south side 
 of the mountain. Nearly exhausted I reached the pla- 
 teau inside of the walls. The fortification walls enclose 
 about a half square mile of uneven ground. Near the 
 center, on an eminence, were the ruins of old temples, 
 and on the summit was a wooden platform, which 
 must be of recent construction, probably for scientific 
 observations. From this platform there is a magnificent 
 view of the surrounding country. The gulf of Corinth 
 seemed like a slender arm of water, stretching inward 
 from the Adriatic as if to caress the smiling landscape. 
 The sun was casting its mellow evening rays over the hills 
 and mountains on both sides and behind the Acro- 
 Corinth. The fort has long since been deserted and in 
 many places the walls are falling to pieces. On the side 
 facing old Corinth the walls are particularly strong. 
 Tar had been recently smeared on the edges of the tur- 
 rets and walls and then set afire. It must have been a 
 fine spectacle from below to see the edges of this great 
 cliff encircled by a flaming crown in the darkness of the 
 night. 
 
 I was fortunate in finding a path leading through the 
 
 216 
 
Achaian Scenes. 
 
 gate in front and down the declivity outside, for it would 
 have been impossible to climb down the same way which 
 I had used in coming up. I found my traveling com- 
 panion sitting with a few Greek villagers and a German, 
 drinking wine at the tavern and having a good time. 
 Dusk had settled over the land, when we again took our 
 places in the conveyance. I was so fagged out by the 
 steep climbing, that I fell asleep on the way. There was 
 no life in new Corinth. The streets were not even 
 lighted, and there was absolutely no business except in 
 one tavern. What else was there to do, than to betake 
 ourselves to rest at an early hour? 
 
 Early next morning we boarded a train for Patras. 
 The train was crowded. It seems the Greeks like to 
 travel. This also gave me a better chance to make use 
 of the Greek which I had picked up with the help of a 
 grammar in the last two weeks. The common people 
 easily overlooked my mistakes and difficulties in trying 
 to make myself understood. The conductor of the pre- 
 vious day was also on this train ; he was a jovial blade, 
 and often appeared at our window to exchange a few 
 words with us. The train follows the shores of the 
 Corinthian gulf, affording beautiful views of blue water 
 on the right and mountain scenery to the left. The 
 slopes between the gulf and the mountains form almost 
 one continued vineyard from Corinth to Patras. At one 
 place the mountains approach close to the shore, and a 
 great headland impends over the railroad track, as if 
 ready to fall into the sea. Several thriving towns are 
 lined along the road and seashore, half concealed by 
 trees and gardens. We found the Greeks social and 
 friendly throughout, not overbearing, contented and 
 happy, though most of them must be poor. 
 
 Across the bay of Corinth, which is only a few miles 
 wide, picturesque chains of mountains rise and at last 
 taper out into a headland opposite Patras. We arrived at 
 
 217 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 Patras at about three o'clock and took our headquarters 
 at Hotel Anglia. Patras is a large town full of business 
 and pleasure, both of which seem natural in such a fine 
 port and in the midst of so luxurious and fertile a coun- 
 try. The tasteful buildings, the clean streets, the public 
 squares and parks, cannot but make a favorable impres- 
 sion on the visitor. The variation of wooded hills and 
 verdant valleys makes its surroundings a veritable para- 
 dise. Our first care on arriving was to inquire at the 
 custom house for the unlucky Baedeckers, which we had 
 requested the rapacious officials of Salonica to send on 
 to this town. * They were not there. They arrived sev- 
 eral weeks later and the custom officials at Patras were 
 kind enough to send them on to Rome at their own cost. 
 Our cabman took us on to the Greek church of St. An- 
 drew. It is built in the Greek or Byzantine style and 
 very finely decorated inside. An old gray-bearded papa 
 showed us the tomb of St. Andrew in the right aisle of 
 the church. The lower part is of polished marble, inlaid 
 with precious stones. Above it rests a canopy on four 
 pillars. The tomb does not contain the body of St. 
 Andrew, but after we had gained the confidence of the 
 priest, the old man brought a gold and silver reliquary, 
 which he said contains the thumb of the apostle. 
 
 Not far from this church is the public park over- 
 looking the seashore. In the centre of this park, under 
 a glass house, is preserved the mosaic floor of an old 
 temple, which formerly stood there. It is one of the most 
 artistic and largest floor-mosaics of ancient times in ex- 
 istence. Nobody that visits Patras misses an excursion 
 to San Gerokomio, a very old Greek church and convent, 
 a few miles south of the town. From this eminence the 
 white buildings of Patras, encircled by the vine-clad hills 
 and the blue sea beyond, formed a charming prospect 
 in the mellow evening sunshine. As our carriage neared 
 the convent it passed through idyllic gardens. Delight- 
 
 218 
 
Patras. 
 
 ful shady bowers shield from the sun, and the fragrance 
 of flowers and fruit fills the air. Near the entrance to 
 the convent stood a modest wine tavern, where the rustic 
 benches invite to rest and refreshment beneath the shade 
 trees. The church and convent offer nothing particu- 
 larly remarkable, except their age. Services were going 
 on in the chapel, at which a score of finely dressed people 
 assisted, standing in groups on the stone pavement. The 
 services consisted of the usual drawling and interminable 
 chant of Greek worship, while every now and then one 
 of the clerics went around incensing his colleagues. 
 
 We had seen and heard the same thing often enough 
 in Jerusalem, so we preferred to sit under the shade of 
 the trees to listen to a few tunes of a wandering musician, 
 who was playing on his harpsicord in front of the tavern. 
 When we again entered the town after sunset, the streets 
 were literally alive with w r ell dressed, happy people 
 chatting and laughing, while taking their evening prome- 
 nade. The well to do were tastefully dressed, and this 
 is especially true of ladies. There seemed to be quite a 
 spirit of companionship and fraternity between the 
 different classes. In one of the by-streets we came upon 
 the ruins of an old Roman theatre, built of brick. The 
 proscenium and stage and the great semicircle of terraced 
 seats are still in good preservation. On the hill behind 
 the city could also be seen the frowning walls of an old 
 Venetian fort. The ancient monuments here and every- 
 where in Greece are strictly guarded ; as well against the 
 ravages of time, as against the vandalism of visitors. 
 Otherwise there would soon be no relics left. 
 
 The Catholic church in Patras is in charge of an old 
 Italian priest. It is in the business part of the city. He 
 very urgently invited me to return and hold services on 
 Sunday; but after returning from Olympia, I found 
 that our boat would leave on Saturday. In the evening 
 we attended an Italian opera in one of the gardens. It 
 
 219 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 — 
 
 was all about an eccentric rich man, who was beguiled 
 by a lot of monks (Latin monks of course) to buy some 
 statues of women, to help their monastery out of financial 
 difficulties. My traveling companion was soundly 
 asleep before the play was half over, for he was partly 
 deaf, and thus could not hear a word of the play or the 
 fine singing. But when to his continual nodding he 
 added a nasal solo crescendo pocc'a pocco, the surround- 
 ing Greek beauties began to cast around dimpled smiles 
 to find the extra basso of the occasion. He of course 
 remained unconscious both of their bewitching smiles 
 and their youthful giggling. I was loath to wake him, 
 for he was tired, and awakened would not be able to enjoy 
 the fine points of the situation, one way or the other. 
 It was worth something to me to be able to enjoy two 
 comic operas at the same time. I merely nudged him 
 once in a while to prevent fortissimos. Before the play 
 was over I too had hankerings after the arms of Mor- 
 pheus, whose soft embraces we went to enjoy at about 
 eleven o'clock, though the streets were yet full of life. 
 
 Early next morning the train was taking us along the 
 coast toward Olympia in the south of the Peloponnesus. 
 Once more we were in crowded cars, passed the fruitful 
 vineyards, conversed with pleasant people, and met the 
 smiles of the same jovial conductor at the car window. 
 At one of the stations my companion had gotten off to 
 purchase some small article, and as his deafness pre- 
 vented him from hearing the signal, he was left behind. 
 I did not notice his absence, until one of the passengers 
 reminded me of it. Hastily I informed our friend the 
 conductor, though we were already a half mile from the 
 station. He stood by us in our time of need and gave 
 the signal to stop the train. In the meanwhile my friend 
 had started to run after the train, but had given it up, 
 when I jumped out to look for him, After some delay 
 he was landed safely and our train sped onward. I don't 
 
 220 
 
Olympia. 
 
 expect to meet so good natured a conductor in the near 
 future, especially not among the train czars of the United 
 States. I suspect even our Greek conductor could not be 
 so easily induced to delay a train so long, for any other 
 than Americans. We arrived at Olympia about noon- 
 time. It is situated in a verdant valley, watered by 
 the small river Alpheios and surrounded by charming 
 mountain scenery. The station is some distance from 
 the excavations and the town consists only of a few 
 houses, two rival hotels, and a museum near the great 
 excavations. 
 
 After a scant dinner, we sallied forth to the ruins and 
 their surroundings. The sharp cones of a wooded hill 
 rose behind our hotel across the Erymanthos creek, 
 which empties into the Alpheios near the ruins. It is the 
 Kronion, commanding a fine view of the Olympian 
 fields spread below. We tried to gain its summit, which 
 is of considerable height, but after a futile attempt desist- 
 ed on account of the thick growth of underwood. From 
 its southern base extend the great excavations a quarter 
 of a mile square. Nearly fifteen feet of rubbish and soil 
 had covered this space. But the patient labor of the 
 excavators had now disclosed the vast ruins to the light 
 of day. Here lay the remains of temples, playhouses, 
 baths, arenas, treasure vaults, that once had attracted 
 the champions of the world, and the countless thousands 
 of spectators even from distant Rome. The walls are 
 now heaps of stones, the pillars are lying in confusion on 
 the ground or over each other, the ornaments and carv- 
 ings of the buildings are scattered in fragments between 
 the huge blocks of stone foundations. The great temple 
 of Jupiter is near the centre. Its huge platform foun- 
 dation is still intact and some of the Doric pillars are still 
 standing. On one side are the remains of the arenas 
 and the playgrounds, surrounded on all sides by the 
 ruins of the apartments for the participants in the games. 
 
 221 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 On the other sides are the intricate mazes of the Roman 
 thermae or hot baths, the foundations exposed, the pillars 
 broken off or toppled over, the underground conduits 
 laid bare. 
 
 All the glory of the Olympian games has departed. 
 Over these grounds, how many thousands were not 
 wont to throng in ancient times at the call of the envoys. 
 Every four years they were sent out to the four quarters 
 of the compass to invite the Greek and the Barbarian to 
 take part in or to witness the deeds of far-famed men! 
 How many a heart exulted in victory on that stathion, in 
 the throwing of the disk, in wrestling or running, in poetry 
 or song! How many also departed vanquished and sick 
 at heart, broken in despair, themselves and their friends 
 ruined by the lost wagers! There shouts of applause 
 uprose and fired the contending champion to renewed 
 exertion; there also the sharp tongue hissed words of 
 scorn and derision at some defeat. Fiercely the storms 
 of envy and ambition often raged in the hearts of the 
 champions, rousing up kindred storms in the hearts of 
 the spectators, that vented itself into shouts of rage 
 or exultation at defeat or victory. All is silent now, 
 the shouts are hushed as in a grave, the games died out, 
 the crowds are dispersed ages ago. Nothing except the 
 hesitating step of the curious tourist resounds on the 
 place, his vacant stare and wondering remark, mingled 
 with the gasconading swagger of the guide, have taken 
 the place of all the glory of the Olympiads. 
 
 A suspicious watchman follows you around from afar, 
 lest you are ridiculous enough to abscond a piece of 
 crumbling marble as memento. No doubt the watchman 
 was found to be necessary in order to preserve the heaps 
 of ruin, for it is remarkable, what absurd things travelers 
 will often burden themselves with in order to show to 
 their friends that they have visited places of note. We 
 left the grounds on the road which leads up to the 
 
 222 
 
At Corfu, 
 
 museum on the hill. A bridge here leads over the Eryman- 
 thos. While we crossed over the bridge, a boy, aided by 
 a noisy dog, drove a straggling herd of goats along the 
 creek bottom; this is the only crowd of living beings 
 that still hover around Olympia now. The museum is 
 filled with carvings found on the excavated grounds. 
 The most notable piece is the statue of Hermes and child, 
 by Praxiteles, and the great Nike or goddess of victory, 
 which stood on the apex of the- large temple of Olympia. 
 Along the walls were the great groups of marble figures 
 that adorned the triangular friezes of the temple. They 
 represent the battles of the Centaurs with the Lapidae, 
 and were restored from the fragments of the statuary 
 found in the excavations. The figures are of gigantic 
 size, and the two groups are each over one hundred feet 
 long. The parts missing are filled in with plaster of 
 Paris casts, so that the groups are quite complete. 
 Before we went to rest, we sat for a while in the balmy 
 evening air, on the rude benches of a primitive wine- 
 tavern, talking to one of the natives. 
 
 The next morning we took the train back to Patras, 
 and after vainly inquiring for our strayed Baedeckers, we 
 leisurely established ourselves on board a steamer for 
 Corfu and Brindisi. But the steamer tarried until ten 
 o'clock at night. The next day the sun rose in splendor 
 over the rippling waters. The verdant shores of Greece 
 glided by to our right, while the island of Zakynthos, 
 Cephalonia, and St. Maurice stood guard on the left. 
 At about eight o'clock Corfu, or Corcyra, as the Greeks 
 call it, hove in sight, and at ten we anchored in the har- 
 bor immediately in front of the town of Corfu. The city 
 presents a pleasant view, with its palaces on the high 
 promontory, the tall houses along the quay, and the 
 mountains behind. As it was Pentecost day, we felt 
 obliged to hear mass if possible. Services were just 
 going on at the modest cathedral. A scant congregation 
 
 223 
 
O'er Oceans and Continents. 
 
 was present standing in groups on the stone pavement 
 of the church. It seemed to me that some of the ladies 
 were more anxious to show off their fine dresses, and 
 meet acquaintances, than to follow the services. The 
 singing and music were excellent and appropriate to the 
 holy sacrifice. Let no American complain of too fre- 
 quent collections in their churches, for here we had no 
 less than five different collections taken up during mass. 
 Perhaps that was necessary, for the contribution flowed 
 but scantily in every one of them. After mass we were 
 shown a miraculous statue of the Blessed Virgin in one 
 of the side chapels. 
 
 Not much of Sunday quiet reigned on the great square 
 and in the crowded streets. Most of the stores were wide 
 open. The houses and the vessels in the harbor were 
 bedecked with numerous flags in honor of Prince Con- 
 stantine of Greece, whose birthday it was to-day. After 
 partaking of a delicious Greek dinner, we passed the rest 
 of our time in strolling through different parts of the town. 
 It struck me as peculiar that there should be so many 
 stories to the houses. The south part of the town is built 
 on a high promontory. A large portion of this is occu- 
 pied by the old royal palaces and its surrounding parks 
 and gardens. Here the king sometimes spends the 
 summer months. The highest top of the promontory 
 is crowned with fortifications built by the Italians, the 
 former lords of the island. Through ancient barracks, 
 still occupied by soldiers and kept in good repair, we 
 climbed up the steep hill to the weather observatory. 
 An old tower affords a charming view of land and sea. 
 Eastward across the sea, on the mainland of Epirus, the 
 convent of St. Salvator lay perched on top of a high 
 mountain, and northward of it the Albanian mountains 
 lined the shore. Beneath us the island of Corfu curved 
 away from the mainland westward into the sea, full of 
 picturesque scenery. South of us the open Adriatic 
 
 224 
 
At Corfu. 
 
 gleamed through the studding island mountains. The 
 old station keeper was highly gratified by a small fee for 
 the use of his telescope. We returned on the romantic 
 path to the town, and again boarded the Servia in order 
 to continue our voyage to Brindisi and Naples. 
 
 Practical Hints. For those who are acquainted somewhat 
 with the ancient classics, Greece is one of the most interesting 
 countries. They will do well to set apart for it a corresponding 
 portion of the time at disposal for their travels. In a short time 
 the knowledge of ancient Greek will enable them to become some- 
 what familiar with the present language, that is, if they have not 
 shirked the study of Greek at college, and take some pleasure in 
 having a chance to make the only practical use of it during their 
 lives. The relics of ancient times are found all over. Greece will 
 become intensely interesting, if the history connected with it is a 
 little freshened up. 
 
 225 
 
AUTHOR'S ANNOUNCEMENT. 
 
 "O'er Oceans" is to appear in four different series, 
 independent of each other, yet forming a continuous 
 narrative of a journey through both hemispheres, as 
 follows : 
 
 First Series : Chicago — San Francisco — Hawaii- 
 ans — Japan — China — Manila. 
 
 Second Series : Singapore — Burmah — India — 
 The Himalayas — Goa — Bombay — Cairo — Jaffa. 
 
 Third Series : Jerusalem — Palestine in Bedouin 
 Garb — Syria and Islands of the Mediterranean — 
 Smyrna — Constantinople — Athens — Corfu. 
 
 Fourth Series: Naples — Rome — Vienna — Munich 
 
 — Oberammergau — Switzerland — The Rhine ; Paris 
 
 — London — New York — Chicago, — supplemented by 
 incidents of a tour of all the European countries, the 
 north of Africa, and Canada. 
 
 On account of other much more important duties, 
 
 the author can give but a very limited amount of time to 
 
 the writing and publication of " O'er Oceans," and still 
 
 less to other matters connected with their distribution. 
 
 But their reception by the public has been very gratifying. 
 
 Nevertheless, he wishes it to be especially understood, 
 
 that the chief object of these books is to bring to the 
 
 notice of the English-speaking world one of the most 
 
 remarkable books in any language, the Spanish Ciudad 
 
 de Dios, of which he has undertaken the first English 
 
 translation. 
 
 226 
 
Author's Announcement. 
 
 Reader, if you have been generous and intelligent 
 enough to find some good points in this book of travel, 
 in which I have sought to describe in a pleasing way 
 the trivial incidences of a mere jaunt around this insig- 
 nificant earth, what may you not expect in an intellectual 
 journey through Ciudad de Dios, where the hidden 
 beauty of the universe is pictured in a manner superior 
 to what has been spoken or written, short of direct and 
 certified inspiration from on high; where he that will 
 but reflect and is of good will, sees opened up vast vistas 
 of light in confirmation of all that is true, all that is good, 
 all that is noble and inspiring, in the history of the human 
 race? Such a book is Ciudad de Dios, the English 
 translation of which is heralded by ''O'er Oceans." 
 
 227 
 
FEB 15 1909