Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. .By the Author of THE SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY.,. THE TWO VOCATIONS. A'ale. $1 25 "' The Two Vocations is a new work by the author of' The Schonberg-Cotta Family,' being, unlike most of her earlier works, a story of modern life, and adapted to juvenile readers. It traces the religious history of two bright little girls from childhood to maturity; girls diflering widely in tastes and talents, yet each led by the discipline of events to a beneficent vocation. The book is an earnest one, of deep religious interest, and well fitted for a young girl's library." —Springfieldl Rcpublican.:z. TALES OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 16mo. 1 25 "' The tales are painted in such an inimitable manner that while they interest and attract, they impart much historical information, and they are pervaded by the heroic spirit of Christianity. They should be in all Sabbath-schools.''-Baptist Quarterly. 3. THE MARTYRS OF SPAIN. 1 25 " The author, who has thrown so much fascination over the history of Luther, in the great work of R.eformation, has adopted the same plan in illustrating anew the fierce and relentless persecution in Spain against the Protestants. "-Presbyterian. 4. THE CRIPPLE OF ANTIOCH. 1 25 These sketches present vivid pictures of lile among the early Christians in the generation immediately following the apostolic days. 5. THE VOICE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE IN SONG IN MANY LANDS AND AGES. Red Edges. I 50 6. THE THREE WAKINGS, AND OTHER POEMS. Red Edges. 1 25 7. THE BLACK SHIP, AND OTHER ALLEGORIES. 18mo. 90 8,WANDERINGS OVER BIBLE LANDS. -~~~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~T'~"~_~::~f —;- --- L~A ecenc in the South of Palestine' Bible Lainds FRONTISPIE CrC Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. By the Author of the ",SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY." NEW-YORK: ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 530 Broadway. 1866. CONTE NTS. CHAPTER:AGE III.-ON T 3EDITERRAN —- EAN JOPP —RA3LEH - JERUSALEM,.. 45 IV.-JERUSALEM AND ITS NEiHnoiRnooD,.. 64 V.-THE PLAIN oF TmE DEAD SE,...93 VI. —Ti MOUNT OF OLUVES,.. 118 VII.-Tim Two VALLEYS - HINNO0m AND'jEHOSHAPHAT,.... 137 VIII.-SOLOMON'S GARDENS, HEBRON, AND BETHLEHEM,...... 150 7 ,V... Contents. CHAPTER PAGE IX.-THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE, AND THE LAST VIEW OF JERUSALEM,.... o... 181 X.-BETHEL, SHILOH, AND THE WELL AT SYCHAR, O.... 204 XI. —SYCHAR, SAMARIA, AND THE PLAIN OF JEZREEL,........ 236 XII.-SHUNEM, NAIN, AND NAZARETH,.. 265 XIII.-TABoR, AND THE SEA OF GALILEE,.. 291 XIV.-GALIL0E, e. 0. 830 XV.-TYRE,O. o00 3864 XVI. —THE SHORES OF TYRE AND SIDON, THE LEBANON AND DAMASCUS,... 373 XVIL-DAMASCUS, BJAALBEC, AND THE COAST OF ASIA MINOR,... 894 Wanderings Over Bible Lands and Seas. Malta. l7zursday, off J'Iatc. T seven on Tuesday morning we went on shore and climbed the steep streets of Valetta. Immediately after breakfast in the Ilmperial Hotel we took a carriage with a pair of small laltese horses, and drove to Citta Vecchia in the interior. Mialta is the most dazzling, barren place you can conceive. Imagine Dartmoor without one stream, without gorse or heather, with the short grass to Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. burnt up, and dazzling, light brown earth lshowing through; every hundred yards walls of loose stones of the same dazzling tint crossing each other. Occasionally you pass a field of barley looking a dry, dull green, with square stone buildings in the nmiddle of the fields covering wells. Twice we crossed rocky hollows which looked like watercourses; and in these some dusty, thirstylooking trees and shrubs were growing, but not a drop of water trickled there. Every now and then we came to a high ground, and saw the intense blue sea, stretching firom bay to bay, the low brown points of land running some miles out. In the stone walls there are no gates, only gaps filled up roughly with loose stones. Everywhere, in houses, soil, ledges, roads; through the thin, dry vegetation, glares the same dazzling rock, the color of Maltese vases. The flat roofs of the houses made them at a distance look like ruins, to our unaccustomed English eyes. On Wednesday morning we drove to St. Malta. ll Paul's Bay, having satisfied ourselves fronm M1r. Smith's book that it really was the scene of St. Paul's shipwreck. Therefore we could quietly listen to the stories of our guides about the chapel built on the very spot where the barbarians lighted the fire, and St. Paul shook off the viper. It is at least refreshing to have traditions so near the truth as these, instead of legends of eleven thousand virgins and medieval nuns and monks. It does thrill one's heart to hear even the name of that noble apostle honored. It is intensely interesting thus to come within the range of Bible history and geography with our bodily eyes,-to see the scenes apostles saw, to have all the sights and sounds, the very stars, and seas, and shores, which made their visible heavens and earth audibly and visibly around us. Super. stition fondly treasures the dead relics of the past-some poor crumbling bone of the body. God watches over and will raise incorruptible, some spot of dust on which holy feet have trod. Faith revivifies the past by a s Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. conmmunity of life with those who lived in it " they are not dead, but living, for all live unto Him." To our fait7 I-udson's Bay, of which apostles never heard, is as holy as the Sea of Galilee; and the streets of London, which Christians tread, as sacred as the streets of Jerusalem, " where our Lord was crucified,"-because the tread of those blessed feet has consecrated the whole earth, if any part of it, and the majesty of that living Presence fills the whole universe. The least blade of grass which pierces tlbe clods to-day w-ith its green tapering spear is sacred with the tounch of His hand; the waves of the AIediterranean are consecrated because His present power curves and crisps thlem to-day, not because St. Paul was shipwrecked by them eighteen lundred years ago. But our religion is a religion of facts as well as trithts,-a history of things which have been done, as well as a revelation of unseen realities which are eternal; and it is this which gives the undying interest to Eastern travel. St. Paul, a man who suffered and rejoiced Malta. 13 as well as a proplet of immortal truth,-a man who, centuries since, was shipwrecked among the rocks at the entrance of this bay now called by his name, was drifted onl a broken plank through those waves, then dashing wildly in the storm, to this low, sandy, shlelving beach, at the head of the bay, and so escaped safe to this shore; and it does help our imagination, and may strengthen our faith, to stand here and see and feel how his natural world-his body, Fwith its dangers and wants-was the very same as ours, just as his heart, and the truths whichi warmed and fed it, were the same. The bay seems nearly to close at the entrance, which is sheltered by two rocky headlands which look like islands, but are joined by a low ridge to the shore. The shlores are in some places precipitous, in others sloping, in all bare and rocky, except at the head of the bay, which is a sandy beach or" shore." The rocky, almost isolated headland at the entrance breaks the currents and tides, and must cause eddies where the two 14 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. seas-the divided and recoiling waves-rush round and " meet " again. There, near that headland, they had run the ship aground, and the waves were still dashing aganst the wreck and breaking it in pieces, while the shipwrecked men, tossed one by one on the beach, stood shivering on the wet sands, the rain pouring on them, and no shelter in sight. They must have begun to know St. Paul by this time; he had encouraged them to take their last meal before the Egyptian wheat, which made their cargo, was thrown into the sea. They knew that he had a God in whom he trusted, and who spoke to him, and had told hilm the truth. They had seen him give thanks before any hope of safety appeared. The centurion had learned to value him, and preferred the risk of the escape of all the other prisoners to the risk of not saving Paul. And now, of all the soldiers and sailors, men inured to hardships, it was Paul-" Paul the aged " who gathered the bundle of sticks among those low bushes in Maltae. 1 the valley, and laid them on the fire. Fancy St. Paul stirring busily about in the rain, gathering firewood for that shivering, despondent crew. In its way, I would as soon have seen that as have heard him preach on the Areopagus. The faith which had made hinm sublimely courageous in the great peril made him cheerful and helpful in little difficulties; and that faith makes him grander in a, Christian's eyes than the miracle which so soon afterwards made him seem a goL to those poor, kindly islanders. They had certainly never seen any so like God before, as he went' in and out before themn, healing rich and poor. M any races in their migration westward have paused on M/alta since then, —oman colonists, Arab and Crusading knights; but the name of the shipwrecked Jewish prib soner is still honored there. Can we not feel how they must have clung to the stranger who brougiht such blessings with him, free alike to the Roman colonists and the barbarous people. What the religion of the islanderss was we know not; they certainly 16 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. believed in an avenging power which pursued crime, and surely in his three months' sojourn the apostle taught them of the redeeming love which forgives sin, and of the atoning sacrifice which takes it away. They knew that sin brings misery; surely he did not fail to tell them of I-lim whose precious blood and redeeming death blots out sin. They thought of crime as an indelible stain only to be outstained by a deeper stain of vengeance; surely he told thein of the precious blood which can wash out that indelible stain, and make the crimson white as snow. One would like to know how the apostle, vwho met the Stoics and Epicureans on their own ground, and Pharisees on theirs, spoke to these barbarians. What a model for missionaries to the South Seas and all uncivilized tribes! But the [Bible does not give us model sermons; it gives us living truths, to live first in our hearts, and thence be sown in those of others. No variety of models could suit our infinite variety of circumstances, but life adapts itself to all. And so after those Malta. 17 three months of honors and courteous hospitality, with the whol e crew laden with necessaries, (uo doubt for his sake,) the apostle patienltly left, in another Alexandrian ship, again a prisoner, calmly giving himself up to imprisonment and martyrdom, or rather, as wve know frdm his own words, joyfully going forth to the crown of glory, and to the Lord wVho gives it. After this the knights of ~Malta seem very modern and secular, but their noble struggle with tlhe Turks is the next event of wo;ldwide interest in tlie history of lIalta. In the afternoon, after seeing St. Paul's Bay, we took a boat and rowed across the Grand lIarbor to the old city, which, from the brave and victorious defence the knights made of it, was called afterwards Vittoriosa. You remember Prescott's narrative of the siege ia his Philip the Second. After the Turks were finally driven off, the Grand Master, La Valette, the hero "of the siege, built'Valetta on the opposite side; of the hlarlbor to that on which. thle old city stood, on the tongue of 18 Wanidetings over Bible Lands and Seas. land between the Quarantine -larbor, where our ship lay, and the Grand Harbor. The old Fort of St. Elmo, so gallantly defended by its little isolated garrison of knights, stood on the point of this tongue of auncld, (then unpeopled, now the city of Valetta,) and it was from that point that the nmessenger swain across tile Grand Harbor, by the Turkish fleet, to the great Fort of St. Angelo, close to Vittoriosa. We wvent over the Fort of St. Angelo, saw the old chapel of the knights (now an armory,) and the prison where the Turkish prisoners w ere kept. We looked from the battlements where the knights watched so often vainly for succor. INow we are again at sea,-M- alta vanishing into a faint haze n, the distance. It is strange to look at it and think of the two points in its history which stand out illuminated from the obscurity or common place of the rest. The first gives us a brief glimpse of it in the light which the Bible t'hrow.vs around the infancy of the Church, and shows us it, Malta. 19 inhabitants, simple, courteous, kindly, suffering fi'om various diseases, and in terror of avenging superhuman powers, —the shipwreckhed apostle, out of weakness made strong, bringing healing and blessing with him because he had communion with superhumnan redeeming love. The next salient point in Maltese history, fifteen centuries after, shows us the ascetic misrepresentation of the Christianity St. Paul preached run to seed in the military monastic order of the Iospitallers, and yet, even in such decay, nobler than anything else the world had to offer, and strong enough by endurance and daring valor to keep at bay the whole Miohammedan power. II, Egypt. CAMO, May 22. GYPT is not, as the old woman thought, a place soImewhere between the earth and sky. We arle treading its soil, and breathing its air, with no Lethe between us and you. God's parables are written on actual places, and in real histories. It is IRamadan, the great Mohammedan fast, and nuymbers of HMulssulmen were going through their prostrations in each mosque we visited, whilst many more were stretched out asleep in the shade. They are glad to forget tlhe fast in sleep, antil the sunset gun gives them permission to seek the happier oblivion of the pipe. I-ow deeply this idea of self-denial for the sake of self-denial is ino (Xx) Egypt. 21 grained in most false religions! In Christianity only the true root is reached, and selfsacrifice is honored but as the fruit of love. "'\Who loved nme and gave himself for me,' is the keynote of' Christian self-denlial. The mosque of the Sultaln Iassan is the most interesting we saw; the concave, shelllike iAoorishl carving of the roof and porch, and ornamental Arabic inscriptions, are really beautiful. B3ut all is ruinous; birds building nests in the decayed roof of tlle fountain, the richly carved wooden lattices and fret-work broken, and the delicate yet gorgeous painting and gilding worn off. Mioammnedanism also had its golden age of art, contemporary with that of Gothic architecture, but its inspiration seems to have been rather from the genius of a race than the enthusiasm of a religion. MToslem art is not MlIohammedan, but M/ioorish, and with the Mloors and their caliphates it died away. Mohammedanism proclaimed a truth which gave it a temporary force; it had no life to renew the impulse when its first force grew 22 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. f eble. The mosques at Cairo are strangely typical of the religion. Contrasted with the dark, encumbered Greek and Coptic churches, with their narrow divisions between clergy and laity and their wretched ornaments, there is something very grand and impressive about the great spaces of the mosques. You feel they are built in honor of the Unseen and Eternal, and that the worship offered there at least recognises an invisible power. But it is only power -irresistible, inaccessible power. The name of Allah is scarcely more than a personification of destiny; and there is a melancholy appropriateness in the worship of destiny amidst ruined temples. What, indeed, is ruin but the impress of the iron hand of their deity? It is said that the Moslems think it sacrilege to repair what the hand of fate has stamped with decay. Therefore the beautiful old Moorish mosques, costly in materials, gorgeous in coloring, and delicate in workmanship, are left to decay, whilst, beside them, rises the tasteless modern building with its common materials, tin-s 8el ornament, and coarse workmanship... Egypt. 23 ANCIENT EGYPT. The road to the Pyramids, sandy and dry, led between stubbly fields, and was bordered by ditclhes, overgrown with tall reeds and flags —so tall as to throw quite a shadow across the road, yet so slender that the lightest wind miglt shake them, so as to "bruise" them, and it must indeed be a gentle touch which wvould not break one so " bruised." Every now and then we passed through large groves, or rather forests of palms; their beautiful queenly plmrnes waved high above us in the breeze which did not descend to us, and their symmetrical giant stems were regularly knotted like the sculpture of a Moorish roof. For miles after we first caught sight of the Pyram.ids, we rode directly towards them, keeping them full in view along all that straight road across the level land, watching them gradually enlarge until they filled the field of vision, and so, slowly, we grew to feel their size..... From the top of the Pyramids the whole 24 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Bible land of Egypt lay spread before us,Goshen, On (the buried priestly city where IMoses studied), the fields where the tIebrews toiled despairingly, the river where the babe lay among the bulrushes,-all that strange, familiar land of the Great River, between the glowing sands of the Arabian desert, and the Libyan desert, on the edge of which we stood. We looked over the sand-wastes, over the tombs partly disinterred firom among them, over the Great Sphinx at our feet, across the green valley of the Nile with its palm-forests, and across white Cairo with its pearly minarets, to t-he sandwastes on the other side of Egypt, and the _Mokattamn hills which bound the Eastern horizon-the hills through a pass of which Israel went forth to their miraculous crossing of the Red Sea. All this lay far beneath us, silent as the dead generations who had dwelt there, or as if it had been a vision evoked from tihe past to illustrate the Scripture history. To-day (Friday), after a day's rest, we starlt Egypt.:5, ed at five on our donkeys, and breakfasted on cold tea, bread, and apricots, in a fri'uit garden at the foot of the solitary obelisk wlich is all that remltains of ieliololis, the sacred city, the On, where Josephl's wife, Asellath, lived. A few scattered blocks, one in the Ibrln of a trough, another of an altar of libation, one of which is covered with hieroglyphics, clear as if cut yesterlay —these, with some mounds of sand and rubbish, are all the traces of tlhe magnificent priestly city now left to mark its site. Near this obelisk is a very large ancientwell, from whichl two oxen were drawing up the water by means of wheels and ropes with buckets attached to them. The water which poured firom these buckets formed quite a copious stream, and was beautifully clear and sweet. This is called the Well of Sitti Mfariam (my Lady M:[ary.) The tradition of the native Christians is that the Virgin mother drank of it in the flight into Egypt, and firom a bitter fountain it at once becalme sweet. Close to this well, in a garden of pomegran z6 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. ates, roses, syringa, and fruit trees, is a magnificent old sycamore, under the shade of wvhicll they say the Virgin rested with the infant Saviour. Precise places are of little moment to us, or they would have been precisely revealed, but it did seem to bring Itim very near, the ever-living Lord, who was once indeed a little child, to think that on these very scenes his infant eyes did really rest. For this part of Egypt-the same undoubtedly where Joseph lived, where the Israelites toiled in hard bondage, and where Moses was found by Pharaoh's daughter on the river-contained long after the Christian era, a colony of Jews, and would most probably have been the district Joseph and 3 ary would have chosen for a refflge. This very district is, they say, unquestionably the scene of the various Scripture narratives about Egypt; that is, the region round Cairo, and fronm Cairo to Alexandria and the sea, interlaced with the mouths of the TNile. To Memphis, the Scriptural TNopl, we are going ~tmorrow; in Heliopolis, Joseph's On, we Egypte 27 rested to-day, and on the Pyramids probably Abraham looked. After these, the tombs of the Mameluke kings, with their rich lMosaic marbles, sculptured roofs and porches, Moorish arches, ornamented doimes, and delicately fretted minarets, had a very cold interest for us, in spite of the impress of Mohammed's foot in marble exhibited there. But it was interesting to hear the muezzin call from the minaret to noon-day prayer,'"Allah el Allah-God is God, and MIohammed is the prophet of God." That solitary voice on high, amidst these silent deserts, or piercing the din of the city at mid-day, has a strangely solemn sound. Amongst the people, however, the name of God seems little more than an emphatic particle; in calling one another, scolding, unlading waggons, driving donke)ys, it is perpetually "Allah,"' Meshallah,"' Inshallah," "1 Wallah." We passed the Tulkish cemetery on our way back to Cairo, a dreary, hopeless looking place, white headstones scattered about it, and occasionally a turban sculptured on theme 28 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. In the evening we started at eighllt o'clock for B3onlaC on the Nile, on our way to tlle ancient ]Memphis. It was dark when we reached ]Boulac. The minarets were illiuminated, and the Rainadan fast beincg over for the day, picturesque groups were sittinig in the streets, smoking, drinking slerbet antd coffee, listening to singers or musicians playing monotonous rminor airs, gathering attentively ronnd a story-teller, or playing chess but no family groups, nothing to indicate the existence of /omnes. For picturesqueness of costume thlere is nothing like the East, the flow of the drapery so simple and natural, the coloring so deep and brilliant, the attitudes so calm and dignified-no vulgarity because no pretence. It' these humnan beings were only figures in the landscape, the harinony of man and nature would certainly be more complete here than anywhere; but since the landscape is only an accessory to human life, and tllose picturesque figures are human and immortal, the thougllt of their ,-r--r —---;IllaWIXbBL"hPr, =- —— 51'.F:--L:i^_:L_=_S ---- L ~f —— ==;: —-— —-- —— —— ri t-=S :.""T-,I-,IT; —7.-_~-=== —-===1, —- - L-= —-'T;-4-'1'-_-------- ---— ~;L; -—: — -1-I- — —--— _--1 —i;-:7_:=7,,, I-Tiz s; _,, 1I;.TI r-;: — —--I — r —;;-.;:r;:- —- — -7_hS ~;T _;: —----— —-- ----— i —------. ,;~I116P%88:";-- —: -.RB'=T —-—' —— -= —— =- - "- r--~2 -n ~ -Zc --- ----- --; —----- ~-~ s Pe.ilj,LIYIREB5,,il//*E:4j'V —-- i —_, _ —~-~~~LLI;_-CC:li_____ — —----- ~, —— —i % — ---— - rz; C-2 An Egyptiau ecene. Bible Lands p. ri8. Egypt. 29 life does weigh often very heavily on the heart. Our Nile boat was ready for us when we realched tile river; the Rais welcomed u's courteolsly. There was a long, narrow, haf-ldeck, with chlairs on it, and three roolns opening fr'1om it, the two outer on s withi sofas on each side, the inner one all one cushioned divan, into whtich, (Iavhing heard that thle Mfecca pilgriims often use these boats,) we did nrot venture to enter. We watchled the glorious clear stacrs till late from the deck, and thien retired to sleep onil the solas. Olice iwe looked out tihrough tile Venetian shutters, and saw the moonlight on tlle Ti]e. About two in the mornilng we reachled Bedrasheen, and at daybreak we started on donkeys for tile Sakhl-ra Pyramids. We reachled MIemphlis, after a delicious cool breezy ride amlong tile green maize fields and palin forests. An Arab womian, strang,(e to say, shlowed us over tlhe pits and rloundls whicl Inark the ruins, all the men of thle illage being absent. The fallen 30 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. colossus of Rameses the king is most imr. pressive; it lies on its side among the great wreeds as if reposing, the placid giant face quietly smiling at fate. From the chin to the top of the forehead it measures sevenr feet; complete, it stood fifty feet high. 1Many smaller friagments and remains lie around, one or two perfect sitting figures, a few heads and feet, and some blocks covered -with hieroglyphics. But the ruin is indeed most utter, the desolation complete. The ruins of two wretched Arab mud villages close at hand nmake more show than those of tlhat great city. These Lybian Bedouin abandon their mud huts, and retire with their herds and flocks to the desert on tlle slightest disturbance. Indeed, their 11 its are scarcely more settled habitations thanll tents. From Memphis we rode to the Sakllara Pyramids on the Lybian sand desert, close to the village of Abousir. We were not in the least prepared for what we saw there. The Serapium, the great crypt or vault of Egypt. 3i the bull-god Apis, is most wonderful; an enormonus subterranean viaulted nave with forty side chambers (like the side chapels of a cathedral), each containing a colossal sareophagus of granite or black mnarble for tlle body of the dead Apis. The lids have been pushed back, and every tomb rifled. Each sarcopllhagus, with the lid, is atbout twelve feet high, and of great thicklness. The Bedouin guide and Gabriel, our> dragoman, carried two candles eachl; and the effects of light and shade on the vaulted rock-roof, and the black arched recesses with th leir enormous sarcophaguses, each of wllich was once walled in, were most weird and sirange. Neitler drawing nor (leseription can give an idea of it. The great characteristic is size, and the mysterious depths of the recesses even Renmbrandt could only give in fragments. But the whole of these gigantic traces of the animal worsllip, uncder whose shadow the Israelites had groaned so long, enable one better to understand Aaron's golden calf, 3 a Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, ald the "' these be thy gods, 0 Israel;" and Mloses' dread of sacrificing in their sight the abomination of the Egfyptians. The temple of Plhtha (the Egypt Vulcan) was another subterranean wonder. Irregnlar rock pillars support the cavernous roof; the outer chambers lead you to the inner shrine, whose walls are covered with hieroglyphics. A painted altar stands at the inmost end, and pits, which were tombs, lie rifled aronund. After this we visited the ibis-pi-ts, long winding galleries excavated in the rock, honeycombing the ]hills. Tlhey contain earltaen jars by thousands, each one protecting its ibis m1uminy, although now you must penetrate very far to find one. Our Jfedouin guide dived into the far recesses and extracted one for us. We broke it open and discovered thle mummy in its linen wrappings, which we intend to bring hlome. The whole region is honeycombed with tombs of the sacred beasts. Sakllara was the quarter for the tombs of the gods, as Egypt. 3 3 Ghllizeh was for the tomnbs of the kings. We saw a hlyena prowling about among the sand hills, and, soon after, we set out homewards or0 boatwar'ds under tlle burning sun, dismounlting from our donkeys on the way, to rest and take luncheon under the sllhade of a twin palin-tree. Tihe wind was quite against us on our way back; our boatmen, therefore, had to row, and as one of theml was twice as strong as tile other, and kept pulling him round, thle voyacre was performed in a series of zigzags. When we could keep sufliciently near the shore, one of the men rwaded in the umud and dragged us on by a rope. They encouraged each other with strange, wild, mnonotonous songs; invocations to Allahll, and strings of his titles continually recuriring in the same constantly repeated, mournful nasal minor clhant. When the sunset gun friom the citadel of Cairo announced that the day's fast was over, they laid aside their oars, washed their hands and faces in the river (muttering, w-e thought, some plrayers as 2 34 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seaso thley did so), ate some brend, anld began to smoke. it as indeed Imost inipressive to see t!hce power m-lintained for Ceeitiwuies by tlle wvord and nill of s, dead m.nl. For us tlen, hlltlt llshould Ibe tle ipower of tl)e w-. ord of a livinlg Gcd,-God i.allnif8et in t:lc fLcsbi??}lse jO-lilrney %in rS v I eauris,,l::o intel se as tihe heat wlss 9land it was worthl ils l'ein-. to see thie sunset flomn the f. I Fr"i our low boat from-l the ]low state of thle 1rive lr cw.e conuld see nothing' hut tile ]i'h l mud b1I an l s, m ark]ed by the terraces made by t'ie iNile tas it rises, that is, Nwe could see inothiiig of tlhe nearer shories-the mniddle distance, was entirely lost-but on one side, in thle flrtiher distance, the pyramids of CGhizelih rose like conical hills against the suiset, alnd on the bank itself we saw a ti'oop of camlos, d(onskeys, sheep, and goatts, each figure pencilled as if with tlise most delicate miniaturle brnush against the golden sky. Beyond these at times rose a palm g'ove,C eaei tree in the same delicate and exquisite relief; whilst on the other s-ide th.e be,:utituI Egypt. 35 rose and violet tints colored the hills and quarries of M3,asarn, tl)rowing out in. perfect distinctness the square cuttings ftom which the stones of tlhe buried and desolate Noph and On were taken. Suzdcay.-We had a pleasant Englis'h service at the nissionary churlch. Mr. Lieder gave Us a beautifull meditation oll the sufferings of our Lord in his humanity to enable him to sympathize wit;h us. MrIr. and MArs. Lieder are very kind to us. I believe mauny travelers have much reaso'n to be grateful to them. Ml r. Lieder hlbs every evening a class of young men and boys who conme to read the Arabic Bible. Mrs. Lieder h1as a school for Coptic, Armnenian, Syrian, and Turkish girls. I saw them last week. Their costhunes and countenances owere very varied and interesting; some were just like those on the old Egyptian tombs, the braided sillk lead-pendent twisted with gold ccoins,- the eyelids dyedl black with 1koll, and the nails and palms of tlle hands stained pink withl 36 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. henna. It was stranrge to see the folrms so familiar in stone translated into hlair, and silk, and flesll. AMany of thlese girls lhad intelligent, nice faces; but until the harem systemn is br'oken down, tble missiollaries seem to thinkl little or nothing can be done. Tlle native Christians, Copts, &c., copy thle M}dussulmen in the seclusion of the women. For instance, a brighlt, intelligent, wellinstructed girl froml this schlool married a Copt the other dclay, and she must not leave 11er two upper 1roorms for a year at least! Mg1'eantime, what'becomes of what slie hlas learned? In the evening we had a refieshing, quiet service at the American mission house. This mission is but recently cornmenced, but here also there is a school. I slall always be most thankful for thlis journey. It has given us such a glimpse into Oriental customns and into missionary life, its dangelrs and temptations, as well as its'work. One is so apt to thlink of missionaries as of -men necessarily on a higlier Egypt. 37 level than ordinary Cllristians. The step of voluntary exile for Clllhrist's sake seelms to carry tllem into a highler sphll re. But we should remember tlcat tlle Cllristian race is not accomplislled in great steps. The great eneiny goes Aith thlle missionaries; thle old manI is within tllem; the world meets them everywhlere in new disonises; the terrible deacdeiing shadow of absolute hletrllellnism or antichristiauisin is around them; and wlhat the chill of that is, one must feel to lknow. Their temptations are perlhaups greater than tlhose of ordinary Cliristianris, and their external aids certainly less. It is well to realize thlese truths, that we may turn them into prayelrs. The way in which tlle Bible is recalled to one at every moment is wonderful. It seems as if Oliental life Ibad been petrified into illnutability to prove for ever tle marvellous minute truthrfulness of Scriptural narrative. At Pompeii you have the scenery of ancient life restored; in the East, in mainy respects, you have the life itself, — 38 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. that is, in all- of the East that lies below the thin gildiilg of poor French civilization at the ilpper urllface. Yesterday we rested and enjoyed some bread and water inder thle slhade of a twinl palmh. At first t-he palmn-trees do not give you hope of nmuch shade, but at noon you feel tile beautiful crlown, with its leaves foldincg thickly over each other, sihelter you from thle vertical sun like an impenetrable green numbrella, whilst tthe waving of the deeply cnt leaves in the breeze far above cools you like a fan, and sounds like a cascade of water. It is -wortlh while to have experienced tlbis heat, to learn what the IBible means by shade. The burninog sand of the desert on tile edge of which the Pyramids stand heats the air several feet highl; the glow from the snn and the saind above and beneathl meet, and you can inagoine under these cilcumnstances what a boon the sh!ade of a cloud, or a palm-tree, or a great rock, or even a block of stone must be, We begin to understand the people "rid Egypto. 39 ing on asses;' bukdens being carried here on. asses and camels, and all classes riding on thllem, horses being only used for war or great pomllp. Thenl the flockls of siheep acn goats feeding tog-ether; the' swift dromnedaries " accompanITilng tile pasha's cavalJry; tile deep wells, by tihe side of Avwhich, i' oul 1d C notllin to draw withl you mi-,i,,t die of thlir;s the prostrations in pirayer; tlhe thlrowing off of thle outer gaitment, or giclding it up; the veil Vith whlich thLe vtwomeln cover tlemllseves; —it nmlces so many old worlds becomle t/i.nys!. And all the prophlecies Cabout Egypt, and thle little incidental.. allusions to peculiar Egyptian scenery anid customs, which one had scarcely noticed, one at onCe feels their trutlfulness here9 so that ]Exodus seems fiesh] like a book written yesterday. The way in which " the river' is constantly Imentioned is so cllaracteristically Eg'yptial, — o,; 61~Pharaoh',s dalcgltter cominc to bathe ini tIhe riverl and Pharaoh comingt to 6 thle river." The Nrile is so ompltely othe 40 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. centre of Egyptian life; agriculture, coinmlerce, all depend on it. The river is the bath, drinking-fountain, rain-cloud, soil and mlanure-factory, and high-road of thle whole country; their seasons are divided by it; their chronology dates from its inundations. Egypt altogether is sucll a peculiar land, that one may well be thankful the Bible was not written by men who lived in it, or its imagery would have been in comprehensible to all the world beside. Instead of thlis God committed the writing of' his word to a people dwelling in a land possessing (ats 1r. Stanley says), more variety of clismate and scenery tthan any other in the world; so t}hat mountaineers, mariners, shaeplerds, citizens, husbandmen, all. find their mode of lifQ reflected in its pages. What can one say of the condescending care for our tastes and ways which such a fact implies, but, like the negro, when asked if he did not wonder at the love shown by the Lord Jesus in sufferilng for us, 1" No, massa, me no wonder, it be so like Him.".... Egypt. 41 _~o0) cd/y. —After our return from th;e Slioubra gardens, we rode to MIr. Liedelr's, and on our way had to keep close by thle side of the narrow streets to let a Coptic funeral pass. VWe first Ileardc a series of wil,5 loud, unearthly shrieks, and then six -wollnen mounted on donkeys rode rapidly by us, wailing' as thley iwent, folded fiomn head to foot in black silk. One beat on a tambourine, the others wailed tlat stralnge prolonged cry lilke thle yell of de spalir or inadness, or a long hlopeless sliriek of pain, yet fearfully measured and regular, as the beat of the waves against a wreck. Then there camne the bier, carried rapidly above tlhe bearers' heads, covered with a pitlk pall. "'Without hope in the world " seemed to rinc, terribly through that strange cry, mechlanical as of course it was. ThIere was nothing of appeal or elltreaty about it; it teemed like a frantic strugglle against an irresistible impersonal fate. VWe tlloughllt of the minstyrels and people maklin a noiso, and the tlheatrical wailing whi&e could so 4.2 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas; lightly tuirn into scorlnful laulghter at the Deliverer. With what meaning it brought to our hearts thle apostle's words, " Sorrowr not as others, who have no hope 19 T'uesdcay.-This morning we started on oaur final donkey-ride to see old Cairo. On reaching it, wve threaded our w\ay (after a beauti~ul breezy country ride), through narrow alleys and passages under the stone arch of the old omnian Prn1'toriumr, up stone staircases which Antony and Cleopatra may have ascenided. Antony and Cleop.atra seem almost our cotemporaries in this land, whose bistorW counts by millenniunis. Above these staircases, at t'he end of broad stone corridors, we found two Coptic churches, and one Greek church, perelled like eagles' nests high up in the old palace of the Roman governors of the Egyptian Babylon. The Copltic elhurch contains no imag'es, but pictures like lle Greek. They are divided into fbur parts. The sanctuary, which the priests alone inay enter is separated from' the rest of the Egypt. 43 church by a hi-gh solid screen of wood. On this, the barrier wTlhich excludes the people fri'o the holy place, the art and money of tile builders seems to have been lavished. The material of those awe saw was ebony, overlaid with ivory, and most elaborately carved. These screens aro strangely typical. It is the old systemn; all man's inellnuity spent in reconstructing and decoratilng thlle veil -whichl God's lhand has rent for ever frion top to bottom. In this the corrupt churches of the WXest trace their own lineamnents. The stream was tainted before it divided. But in one point we noticed a difference between the superstitions of the East and tile VWest. Our g'uide explained a sculpture Nlwhich we remarked, to mean a gromup of angels, to whom lhe gave varions cabalistic sounctdin names. HIe was evidently wrong: it wAAas a carvinfg of the twelve apostles, but the direction in which Iris thol-ulhts ran struck us. In the West it would hlave been, not angels, but saints; and the contrast led the minild back to the wild Oriental Gnostic heresies which %d their origin in this very region. 44 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. In quittinlg Cairo for Alexandria, vou leave the strange uneliangino- East> and tlne vast, silent, ancient world, and enter a bustlingl commluercial seaport. Once an exchlang e -f'jr thougllt. it is now merely a malt fr thlino's. Tlbe mysterious, solitary, single- llocled pillar called Poimney's, and the widowVed obelisk called Cleopatra's, stand on heaps of sand and rubbish quite outside the motley odelrn seal)ort, more desolate than it' they stood alone in the sand wastes. Silent deserts of time stretch between them and tie ploor buildings close to them. They staLd monuments, not merely of a city, but of civilizations and races passod away. CGsar's Ca.nmp in the solitudes, somne miles away) seemed fcr less lonely; and it was strange to walk quietly by the sea-shore on which it stanlds, and pick up lthe shells and watch the waves -the same little shells one gathers in Englandc and waves. rithl te same munsic fwe listened to as children on the coast of Cornw1all, stranllge to feel how nrature and hulman life flow ever the same and ever new, benleath and above all the changes of national history. Ili On tle Mediterranean. JOPPA- iTXTLEII-J-I-ERSALEM, 1 UNIDAYS are delightful days in travelingo. The bodily rest; the repose to eye and ear from the duty of seeitg and hearing as minlll as possible; the pauise to meditate on the past; the thoughts of home anud all famniliar things, the thougihts of hleaven and the Father in heaven as near us as those at home; the certainty that on this day at least our hearts are travelling the samn road, hlo wever far apart olur steps may be-all tihese things make Sunday especially precious to the traveller. In this little French steamer, in itself any thing but comtfortable, we have one great 11uxury —there are no ladies on board, so Ave lhave the lacdies' cabin to ourselves. As it (xlv) 46 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, was too hot to attempt tl-e desert journey, we find so-e especial pleasures in this little interval on the sea. It is very strange to lhave the hlistory and geography which. have becolne allegories to us, translated'agail into everyday facts, and to be actually' fi'om Egypt lately come," on our waly between Egypt antid Canaan, pilgrims to the H1oly City. Our little ship is an epitome of the -visible Church, or rathler of the world; and to those on board, the literal Egypt and Canaan 1bring associations as diffoerent as thle spiritual Eg.ypt and Canaan would. There are Egyptians, Jews, TuIrks, Greeks, Armenians, a Sister of Charity, and a pious Protestant Frenchman. The sweep of the two harbors at Alexandria looked very fine as we left. In fancy -we rebuilt the temples, palaces, and forts, on the sandy mounds which stretch on each side of the modern city, with its mlil arete, Pomnpey's Pillar, and the white palace of time Pad'ha gleaming firom far over thle blue sea. At the hotel we met a strange waif of the On the Mediterranean. 47 EuIropean world, a German waiter, who had traveled as one of a wanderng baind of inusicians1 tlrounhl Russia, Austria, Italy, and Syria. Waith some difficulty we procured a German Testamient and gave it him. sIis delighlt and gratittude were very glreat. To-day, as we were reading our Bibles oni deckll a French fellow-voyager observed it, and remarked how hlappy it was to travel with thlose of one mind. 1ie lraObeenl trying to speak of Christ to some Arabs on board. We gave hirn solme of ourL Italian avnd Gree tractss to distribute among the deck passengers. I-te camle back iwith a beaminig face. S Ils taielnt si conteulltr,7 tIley were " tllirsting f nor more" We gladly supplied him. We feel it such a blessedc touch, as it were, of the hand of God, beiing given these little services to do. The Frenclh Sister of Clarity on board has a sensible, benevolent face. She has been telling me of their Orphan Asylum and Ilospital at Alexandria, and of the Sisters of St. Josephll t Jaffa and Jerusalem. I said it 4R Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. wras sweet to thlink that whatever was done flr the poor, thitnkinFg of onr Lordl and for Iiis sake, he looked on as done unto him. She seemed to feel it. I t'ink with Rolnan Catlholics the best way is to point to that central trutlh,if oaur religion, wliech, inl worlds at least, we hold in coummono If once the hleart really reaclles tlhat central point, the person and redeeming death of tlhe Sonl of God, all the fabric-of erlror wvill either crlnmble into dnst, or at least lose its power to hide from the light which is life. JOPPA. At sunseet we calught our first glimpse of the Holy Land, from the pcisserelle of thle Frenclh steLamer. We stood there luhlf an hour gozin7 at it, The undcllatin(g coast grew clearer as we looked; the white hounses of' Joppa rose one above tlle otlier on the steep hill side; two otlher villages stood( out aore clearly in tlhe reflected glow of the sunset; and behind then stretched the On the Mediterranean. 49 range of ]ills which divides the plain of the coast fiom Jerusalem. In the west the sun was setting, tinging with rose and gold thle first rainl clouds3 we had seen since we reached Egypt. The sun of the Holy Land has gone westward, but it will return to the east. It was too late to disembark that evening, )but we landed early on Tuesday morning. Aind now we are actually standing onl the IIoly I Land. It certainly wonderfully brings honme the humanity of our Lord, to see thle very country where he dwelt and went about doing good. RA AMLEII. At Jaffa we found a clean, ecol hotel, kepIt by a German Jew. Inserted into thie liltel of one of the doo'rs was a little glass cvlinlter, enelosing a parchment roll, on Thich was left visible, in Hlebrew, tlme nalme of God revealed to Abralalhn (Shaddai),-the Almighty, the All-sufficient. We rem-arked o0 Wandelrings over 11Bible Lands and Seas. it to the host, and lie said it -was a Jewish custom to remind those who entered the house of the presence of God. They bhad placed it, lbe said, on thle lintel of every door; but Frenchmen whi o did not read tlho Bible, sometimes mocked at it, anzd tLis 1 e to angrly discussion, so tt1at fLroin mLansy of the d- oors it was now rem-oved.:Protesta:, nts in derstood it because they read thle Bibleo The inn was the first speci-men of an Orlental house —not a lpaace or a hotel in thl French style-wvhich Vve had entered. The entrance was by a narrow f.ilht of stone steps into a court-yardl then uz alpotlher ri ilt of exterio, ston'e steps to a p attonr, w ~ ct wTeas tlhe roof of one rooim and thie entrance to two others. lhe viow fiom one of the windofs Of tlhe h:outse-tops of Jacffr was inlterest'n Oin somie of these, beds (that is, 1ruTs) were spread; on others, earthen pitclhers, o)r vegetlables and fruit were l ing. E very house has tllus sever'l house tops. Before breakfast wNe read all we could find in thle _Bible On the Mediterranean. g, abont Joppa and te neighllborincg coast, tlle PBook of Jonah, and the stories of Cornielius and Dorcas. We t:ioughlt of the Church onlce existing there, the six brethren sTwho accompaniecd St. Peter thence along thle rich plain and tlle unidulating' coast to Coesarea, and of the tlance at mid-day on one of tle many house-tops such as those around us. WVe breakfasted in a pleasant, open alcove, looking on the sea. It was interestincg to enlter the little haven of Jaffa, which is gnarded froml the storms of the openll Mediterranean by a singular and natural breakwater, a semli-circular reef of rocks, and think that Jonah must have fled thro(ugh4 the same entrance. The little haven was as smooth as a lake when we were there, in contrast with the waves breaking outside. Only small Craft can enter; an Englishl frigate lay outside, but many fishing-boats and small fruit vessels were moored inside. I found!c tlle childrcen of the house knew the history of Jonlah. " It is in the old Bible," they said in German. I spoke to the Jewish 52 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. host about the land having been once theirl own, and thle prophecy that it should be once nmore their own, w1hen they ackllowledged Jesus as the Christ. IIe said, Yes, lie h]ad heard thlat some Christians believed their land would be restored to thlei wlen they acknowledged ImIin who died 1800 years ago at Jerusalem as their miessiah. aTe walked to " Simon tlle tanner's house." In this house is an aucient well, with a deep groove worn in its stone edge by the rope which. draws up the bucket. The water was quite sweet. From the house-top we looked over a sandy beach to the sea It was on such, a house-top that Peter saw the vision which showed hlim the wall of partition between Jew and Gentile broken down for ever, by the same altoning sacrifice which rent tle veil between man and God; on suchl a house-top, and on this very scen1e hle looked, before the glorious vision veiled earth alnd sea friom his entralnced eyes. This is the true, undying interest of tr'avelling in the Holy Land-it is not whether or On the Mediterranean, 53 not we enter the mlaterial houses, or tread on the identical clods which apostles toulleld or tIOi Oi, bult in this ulnelanl:-incn East —it wavs setch a house as tlis, such a houIe- tol), lland a surrouncding scene of plaiin, and sea t'dnd rocl the very same. On this very identical little:-lassy lhaven St. Peter loolked; along this very coast the messengers from Cornelius came and went; through that one widest break in the rocky breakwater Jonah fled. Our bodies may not, cannot touch the identical particles of earth, but our eyes and minds do indeed g-aze on the identical scenes. We went throughll the bazaar to a Saracenic fountain, just outside the town, and tried to sketch thle picturesque groups collected there-eBedouins in grand historical attitudes withl spears and striped bornouses; childretn in qulaint repetitions of the costumes o:f their elders, wi-th brig(t dark eyes and red fezes; amil wllite-veiled wolen. A white horse stooped to drink at the fountain or troughll files of camnels and donkeys were led there, and slaves came and fllled their graceful 54 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. brown pitchersl The othlcr point of view fi'om) which we atLempted a sketch was on the sea-slhore. Oi1 one side rose the old fortifiec town above the smooth little haven, girded with rocks and breakers, and filled wTith small vessels, their rigging quaiintly curved as in old pictures. On the otli'er side we looked across the gardens and orchards of pears, oranges and peaches, hed)ged with prickly pear, to the hill country of Judea. The town must be much the same as in the oldest timles. The form of the ground fixes the line of the street; and np and down and round and round, at sharp angles and in sudden curves, they Tind and turn, often with vaulted roofs which form' the ground of the street above,-cool, narrow streets, half arched over, presenting windows and wooden lattices richly carved, sometimes a friagmelt of a prostrate marble column forming a door step, and all brilliant as an illuminated {issal with the deep and varied coloring of Oriental costume. We had difficulty:.n procurincg horses, and On tli Mediterranean. 55 then qie a inelodramatic slkirmishl with the owTnes of0 the A wretc-loed animals we had hired) because, they wanted -not o nly thle earnesti money o which we ]bad paid, but the whole slmn before we starte-d. They claUng to thle nanes hald talls of tle horses, aind mnade a great storm in the marlket place; but it seemned mlerely a theatrlical display, subsiding instanitaneonsly when Awe finally brole from Itheml- a-tid tihey saw we we-re determined not to yield. We rode for a mile or two thlroughl bealtiful fruit o-ardens orari c~ cc.l,,c borCnl elr'l;1; ga9Tdle9 Qltan i tIn _ dereci with iLnpenetritable heCddsg of priclly pearl, and then aIcross a wide.ian of recently reaped fields of corn, occasionally varied by an ancient grove of gr y olivesi or a pateli of mlinze or tobacco, ad a, few solitary palms, not likle thIe palm forests of Egypt, bit scattered singly J here anid there. Once or twiCo we piassesd a drove of camels, or a ]Lerd of sheep and goats, and a few cows Jwiatcheled by Arab herdl boys. All the afternoon t-he i'tlls of Judea were full in view, a series of bills 56 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. rising one out of another with little variety of outline, but beautiful to our eyes after the levels of ETypt, and at sunset bathed inl the loveliest rose and violet. And this was the plain of Sharon, and beyond those hills lay Jerusalem! As I rode it was a great joy to look round on this land where our Saviour did indeed walk patiently about doing good, and was so often wea'ied at noon by the burden and heat of the day. Quserens me sedisti lassus Redemisti crucem passus, Tantus labor non sit cassus. Weary sat'st Thou, seeking me, Diedst redeeming on the tree, Not in vain such toil can be! JERUSALEM, We started at six o'clock in the morning from Ramleh, packing hlard eggs, salt, oranges, and bread into our bag as provision for the long day's journey, there being not a On the Mediterranean, 57 ho so where rofefreolmenlt could be procured on all the way to Jerusalem. All of our horses were worn-out and slow, or disabled in some way, so that we could not get beyond a walk or a jog-trot. After leaving Paluleb, with its minarets and rambling houses, we rode through a few fruit gardens like thoso near Jaffl and after these through bare, brown stubble fields where the harvest had just been gathered in. Gradually the country became more stony and undulating till we were quite among the hills. At first we rode throiugh a range of low hills, like a burnt-up Dartmoor, without grass, or hleatlher, or fLrz; theTn, as we penetrated flurthor into the country tlle hills became higher and the valleys deeper, and green shrubs in many places covered the hollows where in winter the torrents flow. The road lay along the beds of dry torrents, over smooth slabs of rocks on the hill-sides, and amoingst thick beds of water-worn stones in the vallleys, up and down flights of rock stairs, over which S8 Wanderlngs over Bible Lands and Seas. the water must rush in cascades in the rainy season. The dip of the strata is strangely perceptible on thlose bare hills. Ranges of natural rock terraces, at a distance, remindingi us of the terraced vine hills of the Codte d'Or, only without tile vines, —the forms round and mono1otonous. IIn some of the valleys we passed groves of old olives, anild wild fig-tirees grevw here and tlhere on the hillocks. II alt'way between Jaffi and Jerusalem w e cai.'me to a ruined building, a clapel. Olives:yeore, sprlinging out of its crevices and growing' around, and some Arabs were restilng in the shade AV'e hoped to hlave found water lere; the horsses had been watered an hour befiore drinking eagerly out of a round cavity in-l a stone filled from a pit close by. But after dismounting and restillg a few ninutes, we discovered there' was no spring or cistern near, and as no time was to be lost, we rode on1 at on1e. LIalf an hour's more climbing brouYght us to an upland val'ey, where there was nal On the Mediterranean. 59 ancient grove of olives; and here we zaltedl for ouir mid-dav rest, and disposed of our orange3 1an-d eogs, arndc most thankfully received some water -which a peasant brourlht in a skin firom a rain-tank a little dist:lmcle' off. It wTV as delicious to rest against tile trunk of an old olive, looking up to the pure sky through the silver leaves, and feeling the breeze. After we left our noonday resting-pl ace, the interest of our journey deepened. We began to look forwi rd to Jerusalem. From the first heigcht beyond our halting-place we looked back over the labJyrinth of hills A we had been threading to the plain of' Raamle; then the AIediterraneau. came in sight. After that ounr thoulghts turnecl steadfastly forward towards Jerusalem, and th6e anxiety to catchi the first glimpse became intense. Every ricldge wTe moulted e hoped to see it, and as one hill, w-ithl its rock terraces folded over an-lother, we -fancied every fold we turned would reveal it; but four hours more renained of weary clambering up and down 6o Wanderings over Bible Lancls and Seas. the rocky mountain paths. We passed a large village, with old ruinous buildings; then we came to a delicious spring of' cool, pure water, and drank roclk-water ior the first time'or weeks, out of the spout. of an eart;loen pitcher, and thought of thle' cup of cold water. B13eyond this another village appeared on the summit of a hill, Awith white waTlls, domes, and minarets. Somne of us thotulght this must be a suburb of Jerusalem, I)nt wTe were soon undeceived. About this time we met some Syrian peasants, bnt could not make them understand us; luntil j lst as we thoulght Jerusalemn quzst be alrnmost in sight, anothller Arab met us, and in answa-er to ou' ecaer inquiries, counted on his fingers'n hour an and a blall.7 Oair spirits sank, thie road became still rougher, in some places dangerously steep cand rm ugged, so that some of our parlty dismounted; it wvas, indeed, like riding over a dlry waterfall, thme stones polislled by water in winter, and pilgril.ms in s.umi er, whilst our' poor horses becaime imore and mIore tired On -.he MIediterranean, 61 and stumbled froli fatignue. At lengt Uh we reachlled a stony ridlge beyond Awhich no height seeme, d to rise. Yet there was no glimpse of Jerusalem to greet our weary -eyes; still on and on over the loose stones and slabs of rock on that level nmountain ridge, unt-il -we almost despaired of reaching the city before sunset closed the gates; and thea, suddenly, it vacs there! Across a slilgh-t depression in the high table-land rose dome, and minaret, and the long western wall! In a few minutes we reached the Jaffa Gate. We were in time; the gates were not yet (closed. The feeling of being, actually tMeJre was overpowering beyond anything I had imagioed of it. Old familiar SBible words and sentences rushed into the mind, ald especially the verse, "Our feet shall sitalnd iAn thy gates, 0 Jerusalemn." I wnas glad thlat a little stmnblin.g and 1i'el ngo amnonlg the hoirses diverted the overchme tlinl r'ushl of emotions, until we reaclled our cool roo0m in Simeon Rosenthal's hotel on 62 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Mount Zion. There I could elnjoy a satlsfactory solitary burst of irrepressible tears, while those words came into m1y heart in the -wN5ay in which Bilble words do come to us at some r]are moments, as if spoken in th1e heart by a voice which is not that of our own thouhtts-not ours, and yet within our inmost so011, " C0oe 2unto mne, all ye /iat are woeeary andcl heavy-cladem, and I will yive yout rest." In that very city, almost wTithin hearing of where I was resting then, those Divine words had indeed sounded in a human voice —how divine, and ]how lumani! It was as if body and s3prit were steelped for a time in a rapture of perlect rest. After a short repose and dinner, I we~nt to be quiet again in our room, but heard voices on the roof, and mounted there. Oulr hotel is on one of the highest points of 1Mount Zion. On the east the Mlount of Olives rose beyond.the platform of the Temple, withl its three brown summnits and its small mosqiiue. The valley of tile Kedron, which divides Olivet from the Temple, was quite hidden On he rr Mediterraneano 63 from nsu, and in the clear atmosphere it was clifficult to realize therle was any valley between. tFrom the G" Castle of David" on the west wavecl t1ue flag- of the Creseent; filom the minaret on the north near the Churchl of the Holy Sepulchre tlhe muinezzin shlouted h]is truith and his lie. Forty or fifty feet below this mniserable Turkisll town, with its domles and minarets, lay the sieo of lhe City, of God, the -Ioly City, whichl nevertheless spiritually is called Sodom annd E gypt, where also our [Lord was crucified. All is deserted, accursed, desolated, worse than a solitude,' trodden under foot of the Gentiles;" yet here His voice was hearld In those temlple —recincts which stretch beneatll ius sounded the 6 woes "~ which hypocrite and oppressor stood entranced in their own despite to hear; and -there Jthe blind and lame came to bhun anid IHe ]healed them. -A human voice Twhiich would nlot have reached as far as where I stood; but words howv divine IV, Jerusalem AND ITS NEIGHBORHOOD. M3OUNT ZION, Thurscday. OIOU would wonder at my finding any tilme to write, if you saw our expeditions. Our walls are all scrambles, and our Tides steeple-chases, so tthat every excursion involves repairs to a great extent. Then there are sketches to be made, and thus every moment is brimfiul of business. Jerusalem strikes us as a more complete desolation thaln l"emphis or HIeliopolise t iroddenl under foot "-the present wretelcd town built far above the ruins of tloe o1(1, onl heaps of rulbbish. They had to dig fl-ty feet tbr the foundations of the Englislh chllurlch on Zion, so that the slightest risings and hlol (lxiv) Jerusalem. 65 lows wThich determined the direction of streets in the ancient city must in a great degree be lost. The deligh:t is to leave the Cibty and wa-nder about these valleys, gaze on the hills, and tread the very slopes, aind even the very roads and paths, which the feet of our Saviour trod. It certainly does wonderfully help one to realize hlis humanity. Especially the paths interest us. In all countries, antiqucaries say, nothing' changes less than footpaths; lthe church paths often remaining nunchanged fromn century to century, leading successive generations of peasants, perhaps, to successive (enerations of chlurches. The ways trlaced out almost unconsciously by the feet of men oultlive the laborious erections of thileir blan;cl; and if this is true in busy, restless, populo-us England, in Palestine it is emphlatically the case. NTo newroads have been made here since the days of the Romans, probably no new si-tes fixed on since the days of the Canraanites. The merlchant carrying Twares, if'om Daimascus to Sidon probably drives his mllules alon- the same paths as HI-Ii 66 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. ram's or Solomon's. Tlie peasant bringing vegfetables ofiom 3etlany t-o Jeri salem trea(ls the same patlis as Lazarus trod, and M[ary and 2artha. The rain torrents are the only road wL makers and any chllanges that have been effected on the roads munst be attribnted to thenm. And when we consie how our Lord patiently sonuglt ont and ATisited every city and village,'tclis fact of the endnrigo natlre of morultain pathls brings his liie home to ns often Awith a vividness which is startling. Almost, one can fancy one catches the wave of a garment -tlhrough theose olives, or the glimpse of a dim, retreatincg formn disappearing over that hill-top, of the little band t1lat wvent abont with him. And then we east aside fancy altogether, as an unworthy delizen of this land of glorious and terrible tmruths, and remember, "Ile wctas cre,' Scene after scene of these wondrons inarratives as minute as anly fiction, and more truthllful than any other listory, rises lnbidden to the memoloy, and tile silent hills are musical witl words wvhicl shall outlive them by an ct1r nityr Jerusalem. 67 Thle sweep of the blill of Zion, f omn its summit above Miorialh to the depths of the craggy Valley of linmlon, is very fine. Every whlere, the rocks are excavated into tomlbs, imo:tly very ancient. Whllerever water isz th]lere is luxuriant green. Only cultivation is wanvted to transfoirm these brown Ilills of rock and dry clods into slopes and terraces rich withl every hind of veogetation. Terrlaces to banhl up the earth are needed, and reservoirs to store the water which now lays waste the land )by its overflow at one season, and leaves it parched by cdrought at anlother. Palestine-at least this part of it-never could have been a country which woul(d be fertile writhout cultivation; but, with it, it produces any tMing in the richest abundance. Tiffs morning we went with Miss Creasy. whlo kindly called for us, to see Miss Cooper's indnustrial scllhool. * We went by the Via * This was in 1856. How solemn the lapse of a few years often makes the most trivial entries in a diary. Since theln [iss Creasy has beeon murdered just outside 68 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Dolorosa, ancd glanced into the church of the -IToly Seputlcllre; surely not the street lie trod, not Calvary. The school interested us deeply. The fJewish women sat on divans around the walls of thle various rooms, busily engag(ed in sewin g, Mlitting, &e. liss GCreasy told uts ATiss Cooper's Jewesses were known througho-ut Jerusalem by their superior neatness. Every cday a chapter in thle Old Testalnent is read to them, about whlich they are questionedcl, and a chapter in the:New Testament, about which they cannot be questioned. The rabbis hlave more than once denounced and scat-tered the sclool, but after a time it has quietly gathered again. The prejudices of the women are apparently not sllalken. They would not drink a draught of water except 6out of cups especially reserved for their use, and kept the walls of Jerusalem, Miss Cooper, after a brief visit to England, returned to die at the post she had so devotedly held -for so lmany years, and IMr. Nicolayson also is gone. The Bishop was absent during our visit. Jerusalem. 69 from the pollution of Gentile lips; and even firom those cups which are kindly set apart for themi- tlely will ofha-, only dr1in1k thiroughL1 thleir veils, as an additional safeguard. Aliss Cooper did not speak of any direct instances of spiritual good, but I was much struck with her reply when I tried to comfort her for this by saying the seed sown in faith could not be without blessed result.'I ana sure of it," she said very quietly, but with a hope that was evidently firm as a possession. She believed hler M',aster had dalled her to this work -she had obeyed his call; and if to her dying day she saw not a restllt, she was content to wait. I-Ie had sent rler, and her labor could not be in vain, whlatever were its res ults. This afternoon we had a long ride round by thlle north side of the city, over the AMount of Olives to Bethany, and home (home to Jerusalein!) by another road over the brook Kedron. Mr. i icolayson kindly undertook to be our guide. The day before I hald been twelve hours in the saddle, and to-day I had 70 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. a bad saddle, which kept turning round. We w-ere a lcarge party, some officers of a fiigate offr.TIlafl hving' joined us. Every one was so lind in lhelping me throughl my difficulties; but miy horse was very slow, and I could not bear to keep others back, alnd when I camne home I could not help feeling exceedingly vexed to think how faticgue and disconif'ort had occupied my mind on my first introduction to scoles of such intense interest. It was very hlumbling, and perhaps tauglht me as much as if all earthly thinlgos had been swallowed utp, (as under other circumstances they mil-ght) in the sacred recollections of the places. IMr. lTicolayson particularly directed our attention to the view from the north side of Olivet; the city lying in the bosom of the hills, the high table land on the edge of which it stands, backed by thle distant' hill country of JScdea." This, he thought, explained the meaning of the verse, " Beautiful for situation, the joy of tIle whole earth, is Miount Sionl on [or from] the sides of the Jerusalem. 71 north, thle city iof the great!inbg." A plantatiol of lnulberries beyond the, Jafffa Gate, beolonlging to the Greekl convent, showed what the country muight be made witlh cultivation. On thll opposite side we saw the blue mirlror of the Dead Sea, with th1ie Jorda: flowin into it, and the Perean hills beyoiind a scene of the wildest desolation. We came home by the wretched little mountain hainlet of Bet hany, with its cabins built of roulgh stones, and its unlhomelike flat roofs. In the hlill side we dislnounted at a cave which is called thle (rave of Lazarus, and such a cavre in this very place it certainly was. [From the village we rode up the highl road from Jericho. There stood on a height the remains'of another flat roofed village over against you, and about this point we caught a glilmpse of the tops of the houses of Jeruisalem, but lost sioght of them afgain in a winding descant of one of the intervening heights; and tlhen, whlen we reached tltis second height, the whllole city burst on our sight, across the Valley of Jehoshaphat, sloping upwards from thle 72 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. edge of the steep of Moriah, —the Temple platform, flat roofed houses, and the Castle of David on the height of Zion, rising before us as distinct as the successive seats in a Roman amphitheatre. It is this first glimpse of the roofs of the city, then lost again, and succeeded by the sudden bursting of the whole on your sight, which is suggested in " Stanley's Palestine," as explaining tile repetition of the words,' and when he was come nigh," in St. Luke's narrative. At the first indication that they were approacling the city (Luke xix. 37,) " the whole imultitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice." Then when the whole guilty city suddenly spread itself before the Saviotr's eyes fiom that second height,-the Temple where he had warned, and pleaded, and healed,-the Golgotha outside the walls, where he was to die,'" he beheld the city and wept over it." We re-entered Jerusalem by the Jaffa Gate. The evening we spent at the English consul's. The pasha was there, and we had some conversation with him through an interpreter. Jerusalem. 73 Fr idc&y. Woe went in te mlornino wilthl a guide froiom our hotel through what are popularly called'The Tombs of thlle Kins." They are catacombs, honeyco-mbing the earth outside the city. We entered two or three creeping through low, narrow rock passages into a large chlamber surrounded with ledges cut in tlhe rccky sides, and fr'equently leadinog by stone doors into other clhambers similarly ledgled. These lecdges were too narlow for stone sarcophagli or even for coffins; tley seemed only lit for bodies "'wrapped in a linen cloth," and embalmned " as the manner of the Jews is to bLry." All the entrances had been closed with stone-soime with cmaved stone doors, turning on stone hingessome apparently vith a large nlihewn stone, which " covered the mouth." Thlese little coincidences with ftle New Testament narratives are very interesting as cilrim stnl tinl evidence, and delirl-ltful in enablino us to bring home the old familiar gospel stories. They make one feel as if it might a11 have 74 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. happened yesterday. Outside one of the more modern tombs was a carved stone sarcophao-us, mld in another one or two sarcophagi, too small for any but a ehicld In the afternoon, at the commenclement of tle Jews' Sabbath, we went to their waililng place,,where some large ancint stones still mark the old walls of the Tem-ple preincts..A narrow lane divides thliis wNll fio m so31c hligh buildings opposite, and against these several mnen sat on the ground intoning H-ebrew psalms. Twvo wlhite-veiled women stood an-d pressed tLheir faces against the stornes, weepinl and wrailing, so that thleir whole ti}ames quivered with sobs. How miuch of this is draimatic or ceremonial, I do not know. Bnt it waTs an affecting scene, not so muich frnim the thought of what they Jtl, as of what they Cre9 in comnparison withll -vTllat thely mirghtl ave been —ontcast, despised aindn dlegraded havingio exceanged tlte joyous mTui sic of t!heir sancetuary for vain wnailinogs by tlhe outer wall which.; at peril of!fe% they dare jot pass@ Jerusalcm. 75 Learing tllat strangely typical companyllT we scrslan-blled through a garclen andc a hedge of pricklly 1lr,'9 into a field close to aniotlher portionl of tile old wall of M~oriah10.ere some of the lower stones are twenty feet in lengtil, andel with a gravinlg at the edge, which is said to be Jewish or Pllcenician. — tile very stories, perlhaps, which were hewn in tile distant Tyrian qnarries, and theai silently fitted into tlleir places in the Temple, types of the living stones quarried and clliselled on. earth, with mnany a blow, for tlleir places in heaven. Above them is the spring of tile first arch of the briclge by which HLerod connected Moriah with his palace on Zion, and above the smaller stones of tile Saracenic wall, looking like children's wolrk in contrast with tle massive masonry of earlier timles. As you look frlom tllis point away from the Temple area, thlle Mount of' Olives rises hefore you, withl one palm-tree in the distalnce, relic of the grove which supplied the palm-branches to strew the way 76 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. for onr Lord's triumphlal entry-tlle one poor visible triunmpll of his life on earth, made sweet by childlren's voices. We finished our expedition by visits to two Jewish ihnilies. Tihe head of the filist was a fine patriarchal looking old man with two wives, the youtnger quite young and pretty, with three beautiful dark eyed cliildlren. The inner rooln was a divan, with a view over thle temple conrt to the MTlount of Olives. The second f:imily were i:iraite Jews firom Itissia, w11ho reject the Ta-lmud, foulndinl their fiaith onl the Old Testainent only. They twere very courteous. Thle courtyards, as we entered, were exceedil,,ly dirty, but thle hionses themselves seemned cool and comparatively clean, mary of the roons having tllose airy domed roofs which give such picturesqueness to the towns of Soulthern Syria. Saturdayo This has been a high day indeed] Th( 523Temple area, the precincts of the "1 Mosque Jerusalem. 77 of the iDorne of tile Ri)k,"* tie ITaranm, ilore sacred to Maoslerns tllan any spot on earth except MIecca, fiercely contended for during meldieval centuries, and joCalonsly guardeld fiom every infidel -foot for celnturies since, is tlhis year opened to European parties by the paslha of Jerusalenm "for a COlnsidelrati-on," anld to-day we went over it NVlien this was first attermpted, tile PashaC ilivited thle fanatical mollalls to breakfallst, alun poitely detained theim until the infidels were safely out of tlhe Ilaram. To enlter a corneir of the precincts even now, except on these occasions, would be to peril life, but we wvere secured by a Tutrkish guatrd. Witli thlle accomr p)aninen ts of Turkish guards and guides, thlouglht and feelinlg were of course benlunbed. All we could do was to turln ourselves as far as possible into. eye and Car1, 1and treasure up stores for nmemrory. The precincts are very large, surrounded * Commonly, bult, we w-ere told, incorrectly, called the Mlosqcue of Oniar. 78 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. with cloisters and higih walls, towards the city; in the steeper part of the Kiedroll and IIinnom valleys, tile walls meet thle rock and form a stlong fortification, especially at the angle of the valleys of Kedron and Ilianora. The larger part of this platform is not covered with masonry, but is a clear space, sprinkled with pomegr:anates and cypresses, with here and there a shrine, and one arched well, from which pure living wax ter is drawn in bulckets. We gathered some leaves and little flowners here. Above this space rises tlie platform of tlle great mosqne, paved with marble, and ascended by a figiht of white marble steps, siurmounted by a beautifully carved screen or open gateway, also of white narble. It is the contrast of this with the fine dacrk cypresses which is so strikin, froll tlhe JlMonnt of Olives, and recalls Josephns's description of I-Ierod's temple, " a mountain of snow tipped with gold.7" The mosqne is veory beautiful, with a kind of barbaric Il'oorish beauty. The octagonal Jerusalem. 79 walls below the dome are covered withl porcelain mosaic, the roof inside is of the richest wnoods, inlaid and carved, the floors of marble mosaic, the windovs like jewellery of smnall pieces of brilliant VTen etian stained l glass. Beautiful columnns and an elabo-rately worked balustr-ice, surrouncl the Holy Stone, whicjh 3Ioslenms believe to be the centre of thle world, suspended from liheaven by an invisible golden ehaino It is a lhuge projection of the native r'OGk of ivIorial, the sloping summit, indeed, or pea!k of the hlill, and must evidently lhave been spared f)or some special purpose to break throughl the usual level to wlich thle Templ. e area was reduced. Some think it was the threshling-floor of Araunah the Jebusite, since large slabs of rock are con.stantly used for that purpose in +the nountain villages of this sunny land. Underneath it is a cavern, wvhich. is a Ioslem sanctuary, containing four exquisitely carved marble shrines (apparently talen fiorn the earlier Christian churches of 80 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. 1lelenla or Justinian), and called respectively the prayingi-places of Abraham, David, Solomon, and St. George. It was strangell to encounter our old friend of the dragonconflict inl such society, but Moslem traditions are ihappily so entirely independent of':acts, as in no way to perplex the ]iistorian. A plastered wall conceals the end of tlhis eavern, so as not to belie the Mroslem theory of the miraculous suspension of the rock between earth and heaven. In the floor of the cave is inserted a circular marble stone, -which gives a hollow sound when you strfike it. It is the I1monuth of a deep pit, by wlhich it is believed the living may have access to thlle souls of thle departed, but the attempt of sotne bereaved oijes to obtain such intercourse led to madnless, and it is not now perm itted. Oh, yearning human heart, beneath all the follies and hypocrisies of dead or fialse creeds, how alike it beats! Aind here, hte'e the Voice once was heard which pierced tllrougl all its dlisguises, fncd Inet all its yearnings, and brougllt the longed-for Jerusalem. 81 tidings from that other world: the Voice we know, for it speaks to us still. What were this cavern and this mysterious pit? Were they connected with the Temple sacrifices? Did the blood of the sacrifices flow here, protesting for centuries that without shedding of' blood is no remission, until the true sacrifice was offered in no satcred place, but on a Golgotha, and the full propitiation was nmade which renders every place on earth as sacred as this was once a Were we, indeed, treading that sacred spot which for centuries no mortal foot trod save that of the high priests once every year? Ronman fires and ploughshares, and heathen rites and Moslem ignore ance have blotted out the answer. Here, as elsewhere in the Holy Land, our interest is in the general scenery, and not in any sacred spot of earth, as best befits a religion foiunded on facts, which, while it rejects the sentimnental;sm of sacred places, welcomes the confirmation of geography and history. We descended the marble steps again, 8z Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas; looked back thr11 rgh the rcheld screen on the beautiful great mosque, and crossed tlhe green space to tile beautiful, Mosqu.3 1El Aska, formerly the cllurch of Justinian. It is a Greek churcel, ITohlalnledanield 5by tblo abstraction of all the pictures and Clristican symbolst by praying'nats directed towards Iectca and by giigantlc Arabic insl'rilpt:ons fiom the Koran on the columns. Near whlat was once the high altar:, was a small marble canopy enshrining (thle Moslems say) "' an impression of the foot of Jesuso" There is a thlird mosque qn the Temple area, slmalle, than the others, and very plain. This is the original Mfosque of O-nar. it hais winvldo ws looking across the Valley of the Kedron, very steep at this point. The whole of the area is excatvat"ed undcerneath into arcl.ed,vaults, suplported by nassive columns. e,, looked down thlrouoh a crevice into this. There are also enormous rater tanks below. Aftter visiting the little simple Miosqlue of Olaar, we descencled by a marble -flight of J erusalem. 83 steps to the vault underneath tile f~osquo El Asla. leading to the Golden Gate in tlle wall above the Kedron valley, which the?Mosleims have walled up and jealously guard to prevent " IHimn wAhom- th/e Jews explect " firom " fulfilling tile old prophecy, and entering Jerusalem.." A lonig, broad flight of worn and broken steps leads to thlis gate, w;hich must have been one of the.ancieint entrances. Near it are colulmns of,gigantic size, I thinlk with lotus capitals, like some of those in Egyptian temples. Among them was one with a Corinthian capital. The walls were built of large bloclIs of stonie. When we left this mysterious vault or crypt, we mounted the wall of the Temple area near it, and sat there quietly some little time. On the outside of the wall close to us was inserted a fi'agment of an ancient column projecting over the Valley of Jehoshapllat, on which, according to lToslem tradition, tMohammed is to sit to juLrdge the world. All around, the rocky sides of the valleys are perforated with tombs, ancient ancl modern, 84. Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. for hlere the Jews also expect to stand before the Judlge. And on that brown bill opposite it is written, " IHis feet shall stand, and it shall cleave in the mniclst thereof toward the east and toward the west, and there shall be a very great valley, and the Lord my God shall come, and all the saints with thee." Turning towards the city, the Temple area lay spread before us. There, on that hill, Abraham's heart rejoiced when the trial of his faith was over, and the rain was substituted for his Isaac; there David gazed and longed to build the Temple, and vwhen forbidden the higher work, with a noble submission and self-sacrifice accepted the lower, and prepared the stones; there, at length, (on whatever exact spot, whether on the site of either of the mosques or between them), th/ere the glorious Temple stood-the hills rung with the joyous music of the great dedication feast; there the divine ceremonial was carried on; and there, at last, Jesus sat and taugllt, and denounced the hypocrites, and healed the lame and thle blind, and stood and Jerusalem. 85 cried, ";If any man thirst, let him come ullto me and drink," greater than Solomon, greater than tile Tenmple —'" my Lord and imy God." All this and much much more seemed to rush through the mind in those few minutes, as we sat on the temple wall-somewhat in the way in which they say the whole of a past life rises before the drowning man —and then we rej,(:ined the party, and left the sacred courts. The pasha entertained us with coffee and chibouques as we went away. The afternoon was to me even more interesting, because we were left to ourselves, and escaped from thle degraded city into the valleys around. Wve had a delightful quiet walk, out at the Zio!n Gate, through fields of rough parched clods. Thorins, long as little daggers, strong and sliarp, grew on many of tlhe burshies, and reminridod us of tlle crown once plaited friom theosn. Pomegranates were scattered here and there, their richl scarlet blossoms shining through the fieslh 86 WVanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. green of their foliage. We passed several rock cave-tombs excavated in the hills, on our way to what is called the Pool of' Siloaim. It is a large tank or reservoir hewn in the rock, and colnpleted with masonry. It contained a little mutddy water when we were there. Above it, at tile upper end, was a rock terrace, from which a rouglh arched door'-way led down a flight of rock steps to a cavern over a stiream of sweet living water. We descended to it and watclled it flowing underneath thle hill, until the ripple was lost in the subterrianean darkness. This stream finds its way underneath the rocCk terrace to the " Pool. of Siloan.9" Its source is a mystery; we found it again higher up. ]Pases of broken colutmns rise on one side of this tank. At the lower end a narrow stolne stair leads to the water which flows out fiom it to some trougls for waterincg the flocks and herds, a little fur'tler down the valley. These at fbrur o'clock in the afternoon we foulnd nearly empty. One of our party had seen tl:he full in the morning. jerusalemo. 87 Tule watef;Cr is turled olff, after the cattle are.:.atereod in the morling, to irrig'ate sonme gardens lowver down tle1 valley. This is tle pleasantest, grcenest place we have seen near Jerusalema. Thlere was the delicious sound of abundant water filling, and pomegranates, nillberries, and figs in their frieshest green. Thlence we e walked by tle gnarled old tree, where tradition says Isaiah was sawn asunder, to anoiier tank witPh a little staglant loreen \water or mud at the bottom of it, and close to it was a rude buildino, covering a fine deep well. WITater was drawn up from it for us by a lonlg rope, and we drank it from a skin. It was swTeet. We re turned tllrogi-1h the villa(ge of Siloam, \'with'1 its flat-rooedl stone cabins and small cisterns or rain-tanks c-it in the rock before every door. Leaving the village, we came to the Foiuntain of thle Virgin, a cavern in the hill-side -underneathl the city. "TWe descended by a broad flight of stone unilt steps, and tlhen by a narrow, rock-hewn stair, and ldrank of thl sweet crystal water. 88 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. It was the same as that we had tasted beolbe in the stream which feeds Siloam. )But it is not the spring. Agcain, as we tried to trace it, its flow was lost in darkness. It is said either to flow from a spring of living water which rises underneath the Temple, or to be supplied from Solomon's aqueducts from the south. We passed by a "1 place of skulls,"' or at least of graves and bones —a spur of Moriah, overlooking quiet retreats of olive gardens in the KIedron Valley, in at St. Stephen's Gate and home to Zion by the Via Dolorosa. Sunday. Service in the church on Mlount Zion. The Creeds and the Te Deum were delightful there. It was indeed heart-stirring to say there, " Ihoib art the ]King of glory, 0 ChArist. " WAen1 thous hadst ovec'oome the shac-rpness of death, Thou didst open the kingydo of heaven to all believers. "We t7ierefore pracy Thee, help Thy ser Jerusalem. 89 vaczfsl whogm tihow hast redeemed withl Tly preciozus blood." In the afternoon we walked alone, together, down ]Iinnom to the Hill of Evil Counsel. We climbed this, and sat wTith our English B3ible near an ancient tomb in the hill-side, and looked on the rocky steeps and walls, and plouglied slopes of Zion. These were the really precious, never-to-be forgotten hours of our journeys in the Holy Land -hours which have made the Bible narratives to us for evermore not pictures merely, but solid realities which we have looked upon on many sides, and " our hands have handled." 3ronday. To-dclay we hlave had a splendid ride of eight or nine hours, round by Mlizpelh (Nebi Samnel), Gibeon, Gibeah of Saul, am:nahl and nathotllh. Our wray led among the scenes of Samuel's life and of the early history of the kings; of Joshua's victory at Ajalon, and of Jonathan's heroic exploits. From 90 Wanderhi-gs over Bible Lands and Seas. Nebi. Samuel, tle ancient Mtizpelh, w\lhere Samuel judg ed the tribes, Ae had a noble view extenlding ifrom the Mlediterranean to the blue Dead Sea. Far across thle vwide plain of Sharon a golden strip of sand mrarks tile coast of the aMediterranean, lying flar nortl]n and interrulpted here and there by intervenilng hills. Opposite rose the old fbortress of Gibeon on tthle level summit of a round terraced btill. All around us sulrged wild stony moors and bills, a few grey olive-groves ilere and there suggesting what had been 1and mnight be. Beautiful scarlet-blossomed pomegrlanates and mulberries grow near the wells. At Gibeon there is a fine spring in a cavern, belo-wvr thle "Pool of Joab." In the enclosure of ain old lllosqlue at Ilamia,19 where Samuel lived, weree an ancient well and tanll-a stone on the moiuth of one, the othler open and. cdry. Broken columns were scattered around. Vie passed tllrough Anathala Jeremiah's Anatihoth. Some litJtleo every-davy incidents are so in Jerusalem. Q 9 kerestin in tlhe life of the people. At one well, at noon, in the broad valley below Rama liah tlhe flocks -were galthered to be watered-ssheep, and goats,,and hdine-adl shepherds waitinog till the stone should be rolled firom the well's mouth, and then eachl taling' his turn. We passed two or three thlreshling-floorshugne slabs of rock on the hill-sides, whlere four oxen were driven round and ro1tlundl trealdilg out the corn, now and then stoppiig, and stoopinig -to eat a little grain, as they were not muzzled. We rested, and fed the horses nuder some olives at Gibeahl. Tlle Bible Tas our comnpaanion evTerywlhere, and cwe thouglht of fonat;han sc:,ing' the heiglt and surprising the garrison of the Philistines, and of the dclay which stranigely lingered once on Gibeon and Ajalon. The country is very thinly peopled. In a iclde of thity miles, so near Jerusalem, we only passtd our1 Arab villages, and those very pool'; but, when every hill was terraced 92 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. with pyramids and olive-gardens, and crowned with its whllite city or village, Low different We returned by the north side to Jerusalemrn, catcing again that beautifil view of the city on the edge of its table-land, overhangrincg t'he ilinnom and Kedrorl valleys. There Jerusalem still has something of an imperial look. Thle bimbashee, a rough soldier apparently, and rather eiimbarrassed, and the Paslla, with Lis gentle polished manners, came successively to pay a visit to one of our party. There were sherbet and pipes, and colmlplimentary speeches through an interpreter. Two or three of these Oriental visits were enough, but the very monotony of the salutations and colmpliments had an interest, as illustrating the Oriental manners of the -Bible. The Plain of the Dead Sea. _TE are just returned from the most fatiguV ing jonmney we shall, in all probability, have to encounter, down to the burninc desert plain of tile Dead Sea,-a descent of nearly four thousand feet from Mount Zion, where I,write; a descent not merely fiom the highlands to the sea-level, but fioln the hill-country of' Judea into the oven-like Gllor or chasm of the Jordan, endin.g in the trough of the Dead Sea, unnaturally depressed thirteen hundred feet below the level of the Blecditerranean. I will give you the substance of my notes as I took them on the journey. The first night (Tuesdagy, Jaune 10) we fotlnd our tents pitched in a wild nook of the (xciii) 94 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. hills outside the Greel convent of Liarsaba Saba. VWe started in the afit1ernoon about thl:ee hours be-fore sunset, a party of six on blorseback, incl(cuding the dragoman and a German servant. The caravan, mules, tents, beds, provisions, muleteers, and cook had preceded us. An Arab escort accompanied us, consistingc of four I3edouin horsemen belonging to tlhe tribes which infest the dis-trict we were to pass through. Our way at first led throlgh the desolate valley of the Kedron, now dry. After passing the Pool of Siloam and the iKinT's Gardens, all, hills and valleys alik, became bare and wild. It must be remembered that the epithets, " wild and nmcnlitiva'ted," convey very different ideas of scenery in our own land of temperate suin and abundant rains, and under thle bunm-io', sun of a rainless Syrian sumnmer. By wili Lill coutntry wze mean uplands glowrino' o oithl t/l gold and purlple gorse an(d [heathlier, or gorren and soft with short, criisp, grass-elastic tllrf over which +thle foot bounds without fatigue The Plain of the Dead Sea. 95 in the fresh mountain air-valleys where the full streams rush, briglht as brown crystals over granite rocks —or, under the shade of tangled woods; we mean, indeed, turf and trees, and ferns and mwater, blue distances and fresh airl-in shlolt, enlbodied coolness of every kindcl every tliing which it is delightful to think of on a sulimer clay. On the other handcl, te wild hill-country we rode through whllen e left Jerusalem on that June afternoon, was a range of bare and lifeless rock, earth broken and balked into hard brown clods —hills glowing in yellow snnshine —valleys where the hill-shadows, when th1ey fell] rested only on the rocky bed of the dry toirent. Cloud shatlows there were none, and distances were distinguished as in a p)hotograph, not by their color, but by their per-. spective. In that clear, disenchanting air the local color is scarcely changed by twenty miles of distance, and the local color every where is brown. Above yon, not sky and clouds, but liglih, unmiti gated light; around you, not turf, and 96 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. wVIood, and stream, and grey moss anld lichen covered rocks, but earth, earth, eo'rth, brown eartlL atnd brown rock,-riich brown close to you, greyisl brown in the shade, golden brownr in tile sunshine, amber brown in thle distance. Tinus in daylight I can never concaive tile ordinary every-day aspects of the south to'be as beautitnul as those of our own tenmperate clilnes. But there are rare moments of startling gorgeous beauty here, before which tlhe ricllest splendor of our sober nortlh must seem pale and con-mon-place,sunsets, Nhen thle clouds, if there are any, seell, not illunminated, but steeped throughl and throug.h!l with living light, when every point of the all pervading ligtlt seens clothled w;Tith color,-when prosaiC, neutral tints. seem banished from the glorified heavens and earth, —wben shiadows are of irnperial lulrple, or of the rich brorwn of Venetitln p)ictures-and every creviee, and c ra g, I-and shapeless clod seem gif'ted with defilite and beautiful forim-and thle d(istancs ar.e like heaven —and sky like thle IIoly City', New The Plain of the Dead Sea. 97 Jerusaleml, whose streets are pure gold, as it were transparent glass, and her walls jasper, atd her gates pearl. Something of this we sw- t liat evenin-' when' thl sun set behind th}e red liills of Mfoab, and even through tlhe afternoon the mere vividness of the light, definilng every object with exquisite clearness, was in itself a constant pleasure. In one valley we passed some black 3ecdi )lin tents,- l tents of Kedar;" the dark carnel's h]air canvas stretclled fromr pole to pole,,acnd a few women and children stirring about thle encampment. The last part of tle journey the scenery was very grand and strane. We rode thlrough a magllnificent wild gorge with parallel sides wrinding round for more thlan a mile. Tile sides were almost perpendicular cliff3, but sloped slightly in a series of rockterraces some hundred feet down to thl broad bed of a dry torrent. It was like a cl.,asm forcedi by s!,me great river, the Mllone, or Rhine; but all was dark, and dry, and silent. Frolm a ledge, on one side of this 4 98 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. go1rge, rise the towers of' tlle Marsaba Cotvent, almost as drealry and cnluiuman-loolk ing as the gorge itself. The ruile of the convent fo rbids that women shlould be received as guests, aind accordiingly, as soon as our party appeared, two 1mo1:nks, wh1o perceived us fiomn a solitary tower whicl for'ms' a 11ind of outpost of the mlonasteryl tbegan slbouting a -wild clilnt, awhich we supposed to be an exorcism of me. This weird client, resounding froI1 the sides, made the place seem more uneartlhly than 9Obre) and formed a fitting prelucde to our.:trance on those mysterious regions of ",ath and doom wvhllich we were to tro taverse on the following day. Tllhis chasmn was once a favorite resort for lherilits, and the rocks are pierced at. all heights by tthe moutlhs of caverns which:>nce were hermitages. HTere nuibers of mnluan beings, about the fourtit and fift!l,:nturlies, perhaps earlier, abandoned all God had given them of life, with the hope of tlius drawilng nearer himself. The Plain of the Dead Sea. 99 So near the home at ]Bethany, and the open sepu!lllhre of the Savioulr, had ChOristility foulnd its way from the light of his Piedeeming love into this chasm of deatl. So soon lhad thle great enemy of man again woven ]Lis Aweb of blinding falsehood over thie character of God, and driven the bewildered soul into the wilderness to be tempted of l1im. We, were just in time to see that wonderful sunset burning over the hills of MIoab on the other side of the Dead Sea, and gleaming with a capricious glow like the blaze of a conflagration, on the points of our tents, the edges of the convent roofs, the manes of our horses, and the spear-points of our four B3edouins, as they sa-t perched in a picturesque group on a point overlooking the gorge. rThen came the first entertaining experiences of the prolonged pic-nic of tent-life, witlh its l-obinlson Crtusoe-like acco,m1modations of thin, gs to all kinds of manomalous pur1'poses, its freedom- fr'omn the bondage of ioo Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. conventionality, and its bondclae to the capriices of dragomans and muleteers. Tle crescent moon iose as bright as a full harvest moon at home, and thle stars were clear as if there had been no nmloot. All that niglht there was little sleep to be had, writl t;lle clanking of the chains aronud the forelegs of our hlorses, occasionally the rubbing of their heads agalins-t the tent canvas close to one's face, and the endless cllattering of tlhe Arab escort who were couched around tie camp-fire. The next day (Wednesday, June 11) we started at half-past four in tlie Inorning, but we did not extricate ourselves from tlhe labyrinth of wild ravines around iMarsaba until the sun was intensely powerftul. Then we had to cross the bturning, slhadeless plain, whlich stretchled before us to the Dead Sea shore. The first half- hour of this dcly was occupied in retracing our steps tllrough tile strange AIMarsaba c!lasmi, wthich looks as if it were a channel The Plain of the Dead Sea. 101 ready cut, and awaitilngr tile advent of some stately river. In dcesceudin o r frionl this to tile plain9, we p)ssed one singoular Iiill, ent rely of l strai}ge ghoostly white. Over thle plain itself Nwe tlhen rode for some miles, the plail of thle cities fiom which all human dwvellings have vanished for t.housands of yealrs, —the plain wlhich was the garden of tEden, now only dotted lhere and there along its drearly expanse wi-th a few pale green slhrubs, that seecn rather' to hlave the stony, uncha1nging half-life, of corallines, than the fiesll, varyingo, expandingi, life of plantsrathler grey than green, with wiry stalks that Ihave ha:~rdly energy to develope theimselves into leaves. AWVhen wre reacthed tle sea itself, my first feeling was a cllildish surprise that it looked so m-iuch like any other seat, blue and refreshing, with its waves sparkling and rippling against the sllinIgly shore, as if it held in its depths all the marine abundance of animal and vegetable life, instead of rolling a lifeless mass of caustic water over the ruins of lost 1t2 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. cities and the bones of lost men. Bible names and scenes are to us so typical, thlat one's first sensation on seeinrg thle actual places, frequently is an unreasonable wondcler at fdicing them so ordinary, and like other everyday places and things. 1 suppose, unconsciously, we had pictured that sea of death as a dark waste of waters breakian an:grily against black cliffs, or heavinog sullenly on a waste of sand, without troubling onrselves to inquire where the darkness and the shadows could come from. And there, on the contLrary, it spread before us one expanse of sunny waters blue and sparkling, with little innocent ripples quietly bathing the sl-lingly beach. Yet nevertheless it was as literally and fully a sea of deatlh as ever we had imagined. Not a shell was ever thrown up on tIat shingle, not a fish lived in these bright waters, to the taste they were bitterd andacrid, a combination of pitch and salt, and those of our party who bathed there found the water so heavy that they floated The Plain of the Dead Sea. 103 almost like corks on it, and so caustic that it burned any scratch or cut very painfully. After dcismounting andLd resting, a little while, we rode on agcain by the Dead Sea shore towards the mouth of the Jordan-a long, aridc weary, burning plain, or hollow, thirteen hundred feet below the Mlediterranean. Every now and then, patches or dried up pools of salt, and tangled bundles of dead drift-woocd show the height to which the sea has risen during the " swellings of Jordan." A few scrubby, isolated shrubs pick up a living here and there, and even distil a fiesh green from the sand and salt, but most even of the few dotted here and there, are of a dull, lifeless grey, wTith wiry, stalky leaves. There is nothing to interrupt onie's mleditations, or rather to weaken one's irnpressions (for conscious thought is too great an effort in the heat) of the terrible desolation of tile scene, or to efface the lesson stamped on thlis lifeless sea and barren shore, that God's love involve.s at length a dreadful vengealce on 104 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. those who pollute the world he loves with wrong and sin. I shall never forget the delight w-ith which, after riding on many weary miles along theat salt and barren shore, wee at len(gth caunght sight of' the strip of real living green, the green of trees, which marks the Jordan, and lheard the sound of its waters, real waters, not tlle mockery of that emblem of all that is living and life-giving, by whose side we had been plodding on so long, with burning faces and parched throats. WVe pressed our tiled horses on. It was indeedl tile Jordan, but not yet the place of our noon-day rest. We had to ride along the arc of another long winding of thle river, and thlen in the slhade of the Nwood or jnngle which -fringes the Jordan we found servants with 1)read, oranges, and all manner of refreshling thin~gs. The contrast was very pleasan t. For a salt and sandy plain, where even the little grey slirubs dotted over it lhad been a relief from the glare,-a wood, a thicket of tangled boughs, and trees The Plain of the Dead Sea. lo5 wavingo highl above. For our failing supplies of tepid water, economnised in nig-. gardl y sips frorn the eartheln pitchler hot -with the snn-a river, an albundant, rapid, generous river, rustling coolly over a rocky bed, witl a sound like a Devonshire river,n1o slughishl canal-like stream creepinc noiselessiy over an oozy bed, but a deep, broad current, flowinl steadcilSy a-d stronr, and fillilng the air with its livinfg voice. The bed of the Jordan is very deep, and thelrefore, it fertilizes nothing beyond tile little strip of wood on its banks. Th'le point we were resting at was the tr;aditional scene of the baptism of our Lord, to which tIle pilgriims thll-ronig in such ntumbelrs every year. The limnestone hills close the liver there into a ravine, and rise above the julngle ablrupt as sea-clifsi, bare of any vegetation, burned to a rich warm tint by tllat almost tropical sun, and tleir stratidleation clearly visible. In some plrces tall reeds and canes grow on the edge of' the water; in others, the trees overhang it; and at one point they enclose io6 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, a sheltered noolk where you can bathe, and hlave at once the inexpressible luxury of baliing your weary frame in the cool, soft, rapid strearm, and yolur memory in all the associations of the place, till you could almost fancy tllat it was the virtue of the river itself which maclie Iaman's dips inl it so miraculously healing, inste-d of the lifegiving word which we knlow cain mlake any instrument a means of life. I rested in the thickl of the wood, out of silght of the river, while the rest of the party batlled, and listened to the cool plaslhings of thIe Nater, tle waters which llad parted at the touch of the priests' feet for the sacred ark and of the hosts of Israel; also, centul-ies afterwacds, wherle Jesus was btlptized, and prayilg, thle Holy Spirit descended on hiii like a dove. After a short rest and refiresllment we started again on our way to our enlcamlpnent, which was to be at Elislha's Fountail, just beyond Jericlo, at the foot of the hills which divide the Jordan valley firom Jerusa The Plain of the Dead Sea. 107 lem. We believed the distance to be short, and started in excellent spirits, although thle sun was in his full strength; but the way seemed to lengthen out before us, as slowly we plodded on and across that burning-glass of a plain in the mid-day sun, without a feature to distingiuish one weary mile from ano^ther —grey scrubby shlrubs dotted unconnectedly over the great space of burning sandno point of hope before us except the rampart of the Judean hills gradually growing less faint. At last we descried a white square tower in the distance with trees around it, and hoped it was in some iway connected with Elislla's Fountain. The plain began to be a little less lifeless. The path descended into a wady. ]No stream was trickilingr, at the bottom. iNot even a stagrnant pool remainedl, but tile dried up rain torrent had left its traces in gremn trees and flowerinc. shrubs, which seem ed to us like thme most beautiful garden. One of these shrubs had a pretty spikey blue flower, smelling sweetly. After this, two green hol loS Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. lows were passed onl the right and left, then a little dell wTith al abualndant stream flowlvin(g thlwon0hl it, wlich wle loped flowed fron Elisha's Fountain. But the squlare toAwer proved not to be oun resting place; we hadcl been travellilnr since leaving the Jordan three or f)our honurs but we had fuirther still to go. The white tower was in the poor Arab village which marks the site of Jericho. A few mean ruins are there and some trees, but not one palmn where the city of palm trees stoocd. At length we came to another green strip of life close nnder the hills, ancd there amlong hle thorny thlhickets, our white tents welcomed us, and tle dciragoman cane out like a patriarch to greet us \withl refreshment. It was worth all the faint;ness and fati.gue to enjoy tllat rest. The silple flurniture of our tents was all arranged, and they looked quite home like already, whilst sherbet and tea consoled uts tor' our long' thirst. Yfhilst rest-ing quietly in our tent we heard a characteristic Oriental conversation inl the The Plain of the Dead Sea. lo9 next tent boetween an Arab sheikh and one of our party to whom he had come to pay his respects. The dragoman interpreted. T he sheikh placed himself and all he possessed at our fellow-traveler's disposal, much in the same terms as Epllron the Hittite used towards Abraham; which proved in the end to mean that he would sell the services dclesired'or twice their value, and on this being conceded he demanded a beaksheesh. The. bargain was then completed, and on the nextday one member of our party was to venture alone with the sheikh into the country beyond Jordan, while the rest of us returned to Jerusalem. After a slort repose we walked to the Fountain:of Elisa, or Ail es Sultan. It is a beautiftll, abnd:clant sprin, wellingc up throughll the sand, pre anTd sweet, anti clelar — differ'iri friom the Jordan water, wRhich, altlhoug sAweet, is not elear, but thickcened with thle soft rocks it wears a-way. It is not n little ubblinog spring, like the sources of many of oar own rivers, but it rises to light i so Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, from its deep reservoir nder tlle hills —a large, linmpid, laloc-lilke pool, as broad as a full growvn river, and flowing forth in two rapid musical streams in different directions. A building of large hewn stones had once enclosed it. Part of tlhis bad fallen in: in seone places maoking tl'e pool shallow and in others narrowling it, Tare stones were ses e cattered arontd. T h e fibountain was a -elreules in its cradle, but stran.gled almost in its eradle by the serpents of lawlessness and indolelnce. A very shlort distance from its source this beantiful stream is evaporated by the sun, or swallow\ed up by the sand, and the life its bec neficent waters cannot bnt create immediately around it is sadly illustrative of the thorns and thistles whlich the earth yields whvlere inan does not till it in the swTeat of his brow. A clay's labor of half a dozen E nglishmen might clear the fountain, but there are none he-re but wnandering DBedonins, and a few poor timidc villagers on the heigh1lt abovTe,,and nothing is ever repaired in this country. Thickets of thorny, fiunitless bushes, or trees bear The Plain of the Dead Sea. 11 ing only wild bitter fruit, fringe its banks, nmanifesting the vigor of their life chiefly in thbe malignant vigor of their long ruthless prickles. One largce tree, however, shades it,,and a few poor gardens of herbs are near, and altogether it will always remain in -my mermory as a picture of re-freshlnellt, coolness, shadle lifer and everythling that makes a contrast to tile s.hadeless, treeless lifelelss, blurningr sand-wastes of the plain of the doomed cities and the Deac Sead T7hzrsCday, June 19. The mountain range between Jericho and. Jerusalem beg'ins abruptly above Elisha's Fountai-r. One of our party has gone alone across the Jordan to the mountains of MAoab with the Arabs, and two others are taking a morning ride to Jericho. I have been ram, - bling quietly about and reading the Bible, and am now sitting nclder the shade of tle prickly trees and shrubs, wood pigeons eooing among tile bushes, picturesque Arab3s lchatterino' by the tents, tle delicious mnusic ti Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. of Elisha's Fountain within hearing, and a breeze! These are delightful moments to remember. As I sat quietly there, a woman broumght some stlranre kind of grass which they use hlere instead of soap, and kneeling down on a stone in the brook wrapped up this grass in somne soiled linen, and began pouncding, it clean with another stone. It reminded ine of the ]aundresses beating the linen in their sheds by the Rhine at Cologne. The dragonian told me she was a Syrian Christian from Bethlehem. JERnSALEM, Fd,;Fay, JTne 20. At eleven o'clock I started with the dragroman on the long ascent from Jericlo to Jernsalelm, leaving the gentlemen to bathe in Elislha's Fountain. It is a long, toilsome ascent up rocky stairs alonig the sides of dreary brown ravines, rifted and scarred by the violent wAinter torrents, wTith a few dry stunted slhiuls dotted about the burnt up earth. It is most 11nus-11m The Plain of the Dead Sea. 113 ally void of feature and picturesque interest for a mount'ain path, but we had at different points two fine views of the Dead Sea, glittering beneath us far across the desert plain at the base of the hills of M,Ioab. The sun beat on us as in a furnace reflected by the heated rocks, the ascents were precipitous, the horses could or would only creep slowly along, and the journey altogether took us seven hours. Midwac-vy we reached the great ruined khan, where tradition says the Good Sarmaritan bhoused the mlan who fell anmong thlieves on tllis road. Thlis localizing of the parable is less absurd than at first it miglht seem. That parable is more an illustrative anecdote tlhan strictly a parable. Our Lord himself gives tlle narrative a definite location, and the scenery remains in every respect unchlanged fiomn that clay to this. Thle inn is there, tlle only hlouse betiwreen Jericho and Betllany; the lonely road is there, and tllo thieves are certainly thllee. Three or four very questionable-looking Bedouins rode up 114 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. to us, two of them at a time, and when thev saw our Arab escort, turned aside and amused themselves with ]augtling and lev. elling tlleir spears at us to signify what they could do. The khan is a great ruined buiilding, probably never more than a moere sholteO, anid ow Inot eenl thlat A large platform is scooped out near it fi'om the roclky side of the hill, bounded by a low wall, aiid on this we sat hlf an 1hour and rested. \W'e saw the black mouth of a cave in tile opposite hill. Perhaps this was once a resort for h errmits or reelluses. Wllen we remounted our horses the ascent beclame rather less steep, and just aftcr we left tlle klian, a deliious reviving breeze from the XWest met us, one of the mountain breezes whlich daily reflresh the moulntain city of JeVrusalelm. In a valley sonime way ~furtlher on, we came to a Nell whic} our Arab guide called the Well of MHoses. It w.as dry, except a tiny thread of bad water trickling over a slimy spout, with a green pool beside it, fi'romt wtlich even ouCr tired The Plain of the Dead Sea. 115 and tlhilsty hlorses tulrned away in disgnst. Tlhence we still climbed on and on, over hill after hill, on that long ascent; but now thle air was tllat of the Lanid of Promise, not that of thle doomed plain, breezy' and pure, whilst tlhe scenery, thoughl not less wild, was more picturesque, crags I'ising from the hills, and boulders strewn arounld, and scanty rock vegetation occasionally tinging tlhe earth a welcome green. Thus at last we canme to the rocky thlreshing-floors, and low, rovgh cabins of Betliany, and passed on amongst its stone hults, and tlhen looked back on its lovely olive clad valley, with tile blue hills of Moabl beyond. Above, again, the road xvinds up to cross a shloulder of the Mount of Olives, and we wvere on the point where some think our Lord stood when he last led the disciples' as far as to Betliany, and ascended blessing' them," through tlhis pure air till tthe cloud received him out of their sigllt. A little beyond this the white minarets land domnes of Jerusalem gleam on the sight, above a depression of Olivet as you 116 Wanderings over Bille Lands and Seas. " draw nigh the city." Again we lost tlhem in thle next slig}ht descent, until at the next ascent that sudden view of the whlole city burst upon us which has been describedthe steep sides of Moriali ontce crowned with the temple, and backed by the palaces on the further and Iiighler crest of Zion. ", And whlen he beheld the city" henrce, "lihe wept over it." We entered Jerusalem by St Stephen's Gate, and were thllankful when, after stumbling and scrambling over the lumps of rlarble polished by the tread of centlries, which pave the narrow dirty street, N-e alighted fromn our tired horses on 1Mount Zionl. But all the dreary way our thoughts kept recurring to our Saviour's last journey from beyond the Jordan to Betlhany, when after those " two days" which explain so many a delayed answer to prayer, he came at the call of the sister, and bronught with hlim, in himself, life and resurrection. And HIe, as we often tlloughllt when fatigTue with our long day's journeys, camne all the The Plain of the Dead Sea. 117 dreary road on foot. One would not wish to travel in the IHoly Land withont expeliencing somethinfg of weariness and thirst, and the burden and heat of the day. Ce2G2 ) VI. The Mount of Olives. ThE MiOUNT OF OLIVES.'N Friday the 13th June we rested in JeJ rusalem. The expedition to the Red Sea had tired us mnIch, and in such a country days of absolute rest are as precious as they are necessary. It is delightful to be relieved for a while from thle 1hurry of doing as nmuch1 as possible, and the responsibiiity of seeing as much as possible, and just to be quiet, and realize that we are here, in the -Ioly Land, in Jerusalem, while the fillgers are busy drlawing and sketching; to go in and out among the sacred names, and acquire a kind of everyday familiarity with the sacred places by the associations of everyday life; to cease to be a sight seer, and become, if only for a -(cxviii) The Mount of Olives. 119 few hlours, a dweller among the old, familiar hallowede scLenes. For in the ordinary occupations of daily life there is nothing inconglrous Ywitlh the associations of our faith. The ties t;lat bind -us to our sacred histories are 1no flimnsy gossamer of devotional sentiment, which a breath of morning air may blow away, but hleart ties, rwhich familiarity only strengthleins; and wllat we want to feel is, hlow everyiday the world, and the li!e, and the nmen of B1ible times were —low lie our own — how like ourselves.'"Co unt it not strainge as th oln' a sotieh stralnme thin,happenecld unto you;"'" 3Ren of like passions with ourselves," is written on every page of that most divine and most humnan Book, except of One, and of him it is written, " I-Ie came eating and drinkino, lhungering and thirsting, journeyinrg and sleeping, and was in all points temlpted as we are, " yet withou[t shin." It is the very familiarity of the scenes a.nd circumstances which detaches into glorious distinctness that spotless character, and. yet brings His words and presence home to us 120zo Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. with such sustailining power in our oAwTn daily life. Friday being the Miollamnlieeda Sabbath, the gates of Jerusalem were closed at micdday, whlilst the muezzin's call to players resounded from the minaret, recalling tile long ages of romantic conflict in crusadiong times, and ringing like a death knell over the deseclated city, repeating from day to day the doonl, " Trodden under foot of the Genltiles." Yet the city is scarcely as mlch desecrated now as iii the days when scribes and Pharisees, Sadducees and HI-erodians were its religious men, and Pontius Pilate and Annas the high priest its rulers. We thought of this as we left the city on Saturday eyening, [June 14th] to remain a day or two on the Miount of Olives. The Monunt of Olives and the Sea of Galilee had been always the two places in the I-oly Land I had most longed to see. And now we were going out of Jerusalemn to pass a night on Olivet. We went out at the Zion gate, and walked round the outside of the Haram, or sacred The Mount of Olives. 121 enclosnre, which we had gone over within some days previously. We passed close undel' tlle fral,Ilent of the walls at tlle east end of tile temple area, which were tile ancient fortifications of the city; the stones are very large, like those frorn whiich the arch of the bridjge between MAorialh and Ziion sprang. Of the Temple itself, we know, not one stone was left on another. The way led by the Golden Gate, a gate no longer, but a walled Up gateway, wherce the old arches rise above tile rough nmasonry which fills tllem up, a monum ent of Mloslemt superstition, and of the fears of a religion whose faith is not in itself; but in the swords that defend it. Not far beyond this, the path from the Zion gate joins that from the St. Stephen's Gate, and leads down the steep sides of Ioriah to the bridge of the iledron. Almost every point of the topography of Jerusalem has been, or is, a point of warm debate, especially (as every one knows,) the situation of Calvary. Some believe that the spar of Moriah, where the paths from the i2z Vanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, Zion and St. Stephen's Gate, after unitini, descend to the bed of the Kiedron, is Callvary. To us it was al\vways an endeavor wvhile on the spot to avoid perplexing ourselves with dliscussions about uncertain sites. Tihe certain features of the scenes Nwere so many and so absorbing and the interest of the geiieral landscape so far greater tlihal precise accuracy as to a few ylaids of gloulld, that we took care not to confluse our recollections of the wlhole scene by entering into discussioins as to the exact site of particular events. Iunt this spur of Mforiah was so often in our siglht, -we passed over it so frequently in leaving and re-entering the city, and became so tamniliar with it during our little sojourn opposite it on Olivet, that it may be well briefly to state a fewv of' the reasons which have led some Bible topoglr'phelrs to fix on it as the scene of the crucifixion rather thlan the site of the Cllhurch of the H1oly Sepulchllre. In the first place, Thills point must always have been outside the line of the city walls, The Mount of Olives. 123 whllich many doubt if the traditional site of the holy sepulchre could ever lhave been. Secoldly, It is at the same time so close to thle city, that priests and Levites standing on the walls of the Temlple area, without cerenmonially defiling themlselves by mingling with a crowd attending an execution, might have seen and heard all that happened. T'hicrdly, It is, and always must have been, close, to a freqluented highway-the road to IBethalny, Jericho, and through the Valley of lthe Kedron in either direction to the south or norlth. It is dfiicunlt to realize that any thing, went on as usual on that awfu-1-l day; yet we klhlow that manry, perlhaps most, mern Inmust have been going about their usual pursuits; and that besides " the people that came together to that siglot," there were many who' passed by and railed on him, wagging their heads,' as they looked up to tlhe Temple whose destruction he had prophesied standing close at hand in all its strength and glory, and then to him agonizing onl the sliamiefal cross, and theln proceeded on their 124 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. daily errands to lBethany or Siloam, just as mnen of another race do at this clay. Fourthly, All lis aclltlaintarice, and the wolmnen who followmed hlil from G-alilee, could have stood " afar off" across; the Ilecdroln valley on the Miount of Olives, quite out of reach of the jeers of that rmocking crowd, and yet hlave "' belleld all these things " in every detail. Fifthly, The place was a Golgotha, the place of a skull, and if the common acceptation given to that term is right, it is equally applicable to this spur of M[orialh now. ]Bones and refuse are scattered ablout it.. Sixtlhly, " In the place where he was crucified there was a garden,"' and on this spot there is a garden at this day —a garden and tomnbs. This point munst, no doubt, remain uncer tain; but in reacling a(gain and again the story of the cross, that story) of Mforiah, with its toml1)s and garildens underneat'l the T'emplel walls, looking across Gethsemane to the Mlounl t of Olives, with tle r' oadc to Petlfhani-y p1asgsi,' The Mount of Olives. 125 by it, rises natlualiy. b'fo re nly rindl as the scenle where the Cioss was raised. Its boeilo' a part of Mortiahl, mo-reover, gives probability to this view oil typical grounllds, since thus the ioloricl wllere God providl.ed the lamlb insteal of Isaac would indeed be the very spot where the Lamb of God, without blemish and without spot, gave hlimself for us. It is rermnalable that the expression 6 mont," so perpetually applied to Calvary, and perpletuatedl by James I1ontgolmnery in his touch1ing 1hym on thle three sacred inountains, occn is nowhllere in the N ewTestament. Aucih of this forlned tle subject of our conversat'lln as we walked dcowni the steep patl] to tie b:idcg.e over the IEedion. Tile bed of the torrient was dry, but tHe bridge relm:,inecl to indicate its force and breadth in tile rainy seasoin. It was evening. "A nd in the day time he was teacliing in tlhe tlmple, and at ligllt hle wet oullt and abode in the motll tllat is called tlhe 2fount of Olive:;." HIlow ofce!, just as ttHe shadows were falling as Ilow over us, and all the hill 12i6 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Uand valley lying dimn except the highest point of Olivet, which glowed in the golden light of the sun setting behind the city, had our Saviour's feet troddenl that very pathway. " And every man went unto his own house. Jesus went unto the MIount of Olives," not as we were going, to the slhelter of a friendly roof, but to pass wh-ole nilghts in pr)1ayer among tle solitudes of that oliveclothed valley, " whither he oftentimes resorted." We were entering the very sanctuary of his earthly life, the place where he pray-ed to his Father in secret-such prayer as the 17th of John gives us a glimpse into. About hlalf way up the 3ount of Olives we branched off from the road to Bethany to the tower whllose owner had so hlospitably offered to receive us. It was a rougl, narrow towelr, something in the style of one of the small Border fortresses, or like a tower in a vineyard, a lodge(] in a " garden of cucuml'ers."9 [Cunc rumbes, or vegetable marrows, eaten raw) form, we were told, a large por The Mount of Olives. 127 tion of tthe food of thle peasants durling the intelralls of the harvests.] The lower story was a kitchen and a stable with a mere loophole to adllit light. Outside the door of this a stoine staircase led to the fi'rst floor, whllre were the bedroom in whlich we slept and the sitting room looking toward the city. Above were two small bedroonls, cand then the flat roof, comrmanding a very fine view. There we were domliciled for two most happy days, richer in recollectionsf to me than any we spent in the Ioly Lan6d, except two or three by the Sea of Galilee. It is difficult to convey their impressions to others. It Woas just l6eiylg tAere, and that is much to remenmber, although little to say. iTWe tookl the Sunday literally and conscientiously as a Sabbath-a day of rest-in considevlation of fatigues past and future. In tlhe early mornling we saw the first sunbeamns firom the eastern skly bellind us ligllt up the walls and white domes and hlousetops of Jerusalem, and creep slowly down the 128 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. sides of Moriah to the valley of Jehoshapbldat. Tlhen, alone, we wandered quietly up to the top of thle ]1ill, to look across the wild Iiills we lhad travelled over between Jerusaleml and Jericho, to the Dead Sea, glittering at the foot of the monntains of'[oab. Afterwards we descended Olivet by the footpath to Bethany, by the bright green wild tig trees, and the grey olives which slliade it llere adlc there, to the v-ll-ey of the KIedron. We saw the Greek Church which is said to contain tthe tomb of the Virgin, andcl the wrllite walls of the Latill Garden of Gethsellane, near whllich thle Greeks are establisling ainotller Gethlsemane in order that their pilgrims may have equal advanltages with those of thle Latin Clnurcl. tow quickly we passed by these things, which, if possible, would redulce these sacred scenes to the level of Loretto or0 tle I-oly Coat of Treves, you can imnagine. Tlley were sooll lost sighlit of, and thean -we Nvere alone again. in the quiet valley, in soine retleat of which Gethsemane most certainly The Mount of Olives. 129 was, perhaps in the solitary nook where we sate out of sight, though within sound of the city. There we rested under the shade of the old olives, with their gnarled black trunks and light leaves. Pomegranates, with their scarlet blossoms, and fig-trees, were scattered here and there; and perhaps the garden whose name is so sacred to us was little more than that. As it was chosen for a retreat-a place of rest and solitude —it seems more probable that it would be in some winding of the valley such as that we were in, out of sight of ordinary passers-by, than at the junction of the roads where the white walls of the Latin traditional Gethsemane rise. But suchi discussions did not disturb our minds, as we rested there alone on that bright Sunday morning. We Were too surely near the place where, 6 being in agony, lhe prayed the more ear-.nestly," and said " Not mnv will, but thine be dolle," to thlink of anythincg but that. 5 13o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seal "Though Fcast as evening sunbeams by the sea, Thy footsteps all in Sion's deep decay WVere blotted from the holy ground; yet dear Is every stone ot hers, for Thou wert surely here. There is a spot within this sacred dale That felt Thee kneelino, touched thy prostrate brow~ One angel knows it. Oh, Iliglit prayer avail To win that knloledge[ SIi ure each holy vow Less quickly from the unstable soul would fade, Offered where Christ in agony was laid. Might tear of ours once mingle with theL blood That from His aching brow by moonlight fell, Over the mournful joy our thoughts would brood, Till they had firamed within a guardian spell To chase repining fancies, as they rise, Like birds of eyril wing, to mar our sacrifica So dreams the heart, self-flattering, fondly dreams; Else wherefore, when the bitter waves o'erflow, Miiss we the light, G-ethsemane, that streamns From thy dear name, where in His page of woe It shines, a pale, kind star in winter's sky? Who vainly reads it there, in vain had seen HIim Cie,'" We reascencled the hill, across its terraced The Mount of Olives. 131 sicles, to onr tower, to rest from the lheat of the noon-day sun under the shade of its thick stone walls. There we. dined alone on cold meat, bread, and dried fruits we had brouglht from the city, and had a delicious quiet time, reading in tile Psalms and Proplets and the Gospels all we could find about thle scenes we were in the midst of, and thinking of all at homne. lWe wrote letters, also, to some schools at home, in which we thouglht the clhildren would attach a special ~value to a few words actually written on the MLount of Olives; and as we talked and wrote, or sat in haplpy silence, Jerusalem rose before us across the -valley of the Kedron, whilst beneath us fell the sunny slopes of Olivet, dotted here and there with grey olives, fresll green fig-trees, and bright, blossoming pomegranates, each casting its distinct and individual shadIow on the warm br own earth, and silently phlotographing gospel narratives and parables on our mincd Fromn the window we watched, also, for some time, a shepherd slowly pacing down 132 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. across the hill before his flock, with a staff in his hand. It was a mixed flock of sheep and goats, and as they strayed hitller and thither, though never far from his footsteps, or lingered to crop the scanty herbage or thle lower leaves of the shrlubs, 1irom time to time lie would call them on, and the " sheep knlew his voice and followed him." It was as if the words of the parables had suddenly become thinlgs, and passed in a series of living pictures before us. In the evening we walked to the heights above Bethany with the rest of our party, who had returned froln Jerusalem to see the sunset reflected on the hills of Moab. The point which we reached was a breezy, rocky height, which in England would be a grassy heathl, just beyond the summit of the fLount of Olives, out of sigllt of Jerusalem, and overlooking ]Bethany, so that many think it peculiarly corresponds to the two facts mentioned to determine the scene of the Ascension:' " He led them out as far as to Bethany',," and "; then returned they to Jerusalem The Mount of Olives. 133 from the mount called Olivet." If so, it was hcre on these quiet, breezy heights that the great miracle was wronght which, as has been said, in its majestic silmplicity makes even the pomp of Elijah's fiery chariot poor in comparison:-One in human form, by his inherent power overcoming all the laws of the planetary systems, and rising untouched and unattended into the heaven I-e left to save mall. Bethany was little to the disciples then. Their eyes were far above its olives and whlite-roofed houses, strained upward to pierce the cloud which hid their Master from their siglht. Tlhe gospel history was finished. TNo longer was Nazareth, or Bethany, or Jerusalem, or Olivet the abode of Jesus, but heaven. The gospel histories were finished, and the history of the Church was beginning. " Why stand ye gazing up into heaven ". sent the apostles back to Jerusalem to live tlhat foundation and type of all Church history recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. On our way back to tihe tower we met a 134 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. shepherd carrying a sick lamb on his shoulder; and with this second parable, our Sunm day in the MI'dount of Olives closed. Early on Ifonday morning (June 16), we went once more alone to that sacred heifght above Bethany, to see the sun rise once more behind the hills of Mloab, and to sketch. I feel as if I knew Betliany and the heights around it quite well. Beautiful, breezy hills they are, with slabs of rocl tufted with herbage, reminding us of English downs. The valley on the slopes of which Pethany stands is really lovely —full of grey olives, among xvhich tile few pomegranates and figs which grow here and there, look like the fresh green forest trees in spring amongst dull firs and evergreens. Beyond surge the desolate hills between Jerusalem and Jericho; and beyond again, like a sapplhire wall at that early hour, rose the hills of Moab, with the bright line of the Dead Sea just visible at their feet. The village is very wretched. The dark, rough, flat-roofed hovels looked little like -~~~~~~~~~~~~~A~~~~~~~~~~.- Well nea BethBibte Lands. p 134.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~cdr The Mount of Olives. 135 homes. Dogs barked fluriously at us from th;leir roofs wllelln we passed thronglI. They aIre, however~, not more minserable than Connlemlara cabins, and, at all events, tllere are no p:gs, and therel is no mud frlomn rain. But certainly theime is not a house one could imag'ine to have been like mAartha and M ary's, ol one in which you could faney they could have made our Lord a supper. Yet here that supper was made, one of the few feasts our earth had for her Lord, where M[artha served, and Lazarus,'"which had been dead," sat at meat, and Mary broke the alabaster vase of precious ointment, which perfumes her name and the natme of B3etlany, to all generations, with the fragrance of gratitude a-nd love, so rarely lavished on HIim. Still the hills, and the quiet valley, and the distant inountain range, and tle breezy paths over the rocky slopes of Olivet are the very same. An old ruined castle stands at one entrance of the village, built partly of very large, ancient stones. Perhaps these belonged to some of the houses of the 136 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. old Jewish village; perhaps even to the house whose sorrows and joys are so familiar to us. In all the Holy Land there cannot be a place of deeper and happier interest; and we may well be content that the stones of the earthly dwelling should be scattered, we who hope one day to see its blessed inmates, and to dwell with Marltha and Mlary and Lazarus in the city which hath foundations,-in the homre of " Him who is the life indeed.'" VII. The Two Valleys — HINNOM AND JEHOSHAPHAT. IT was pleasant to return to our cool rooms in Simleon Rosenthal's hotel on Miount Zion arter leaving Bethany and the Mount of Olives. The entrance to our inn was througlh a courtyard, wllere we always dismounted at the foot of a rude fliglt of stone steps, which led over the flat roofs of the lower rooms to the vaulted hall where we took our meals. This room had a window looking over the city. Pigeons ventured near somletimes, and perched on the window sill, and three times a day a cool reviving breeze came in from the sea or the mountains. A little beyond the door of the sift (cxxxvii) 138 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. ting-room two or three steps descendec throuigh a door in a low wall into a garden on a lower roof, fri'om which an arclled doorway opened into our bedroom, anolier large, airy rooim, with thick walls, and one of those cool, vaulted roofs which form the domes so characteristic of the cities in the south of Patlestine. These roonms were furnished much in the same way as in a moderate GerLan hotel. Above them rose one higher roof, fromI which we had our first view, over the roofs of Jernsalem, of the Temple precincts, thence of the large open reservoirs beside them, and the three brown summits of the J[ount of Olives beyond. And now the names so familiar to our lhearts had become pictures familiar to our eyes. It is difficult to give any idea of the cllarmn of feeling these sacred names becoming everyday realities-solid, actual, familicar things blended with daily life —and thus giving in our minids a deeper reality, tend i.he-refore a tenderer sacredness, to the great Plinnom and Jehoshaphat. 139 events and tlhe holy presence which have Consecrated tlhem. In the after1noon we called on liss Cooper at her Industrial School for Jewesses, anid then went out by St. Stephen's Ga;te, and, descending into tlhe Ked!on Valley, took the path towards the village of Siloam. We passed the curious pyr amidal mansoleuin, hlalf hewn out of the rock and hlalf built on it, called the tomb of Absalom, on which it is a traditional custom for the wayfarer to cast a stone as he passes, in token of his detestation of Absalom's undutiful rebellion. The strength and enduranece of the tradition says much for the impression made by the family order and reverence so deeply stamped on the Bible. The fact of that sa.d history of filial ingratitude and punishment has been so strongly felt tlat tradition has had to find it a locality, and has given it possession of one of the many nnknown and empty tombs which surround the fallen city. Other massive rock-hewn mamausoleums a re 14o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. beside Absalom's Tomb, and the sides of the valley everywhere, especially at this its narrowest part., were pierced with the cavetombs of many races. If everywhere it is true that the dead laid beneatli the soil far outnumber the living wiho tread it, a hundredfold is this the case with Jerusa-lem. Now a poor, tblinly-peopledl Turkish town, once the royal, the sacred city of a prosperous nation, the bones of iilngs and warriors, of the slain of five besieging armies and their victims, mingle of the dust of lier Iiills and valleys. And, besides this, the tradition of the Mosletn religion so long domrinant in the East, coincides witlh the faithl of the Jew in fixing the Valley of Jehosllaphat as the scene of the final judgment, and thus makes it a favorite burial-ground for both. The ig'norant Jew, it is said, believes that, as all are to rise in this place, the bodies of the dead will have to work their way underground like moles from their various bturialplaces to the sides of the Mount of' Olives, and therefore many an aged Jew will tottex Hinnom and Jehoshaphat. 141 to Jerusalem to die, preferring to perfbrm tlhis inevitable journey at any cost in thlis life, rather tlhan after death. lIoslemn's eyes are fixed on the broken column projecting from the walls of the Temple enclosure over the KIedron Valley, as Mliohammed's throne of judgment. But, wllether led by wild anld grovelling traditions, by a false sacred book, or by the inspired pages of Divine prophlecy, on this valley, on these slopes, the gaze of thle followers of thle three religions is fixed, expecting tlhat sacred feet are to stand again on thle M]ount of Olives, that all nations shall be gathered here to judglnent, and thlis lonely, desolate valley of tlhe dead be tlhronged with earer, tremblling life. ":ultitudes, Inultitudes in the valley of decisioln" -in this valley of the judgment of G(0d, Jehoshlaphat! Whatever dcliTerences mnay exist amoug- Christians as to proplietical interprctationl notlling can lessen the solennity which invests the only place in tlhei world to which tle minds of Jews,,IlohoInmetludans, and Christians turn with 14Z Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, equal interest and the same overwhelming anticipation. From the Yalley of the Kedron we ascended the desolate slopes of Mount Zion, a strange scramble over plouglhed fields and among old, dry wells, tombs and pits, which made it necessary to walk very vwavily. Friomn this waste, uninhabited side of the old royal hill we looked across the ravine of UIinnoml to the Iill of Evil Counsel, with its crao2gy sides and cave tombs. Tradition marks tlhis as the death-place of the traitor J.udas. On the other side ttbe green gardens of the king lay beneath us, below thle Pool of Siloam,"9 and above, beyond the many fol(lings of the blrown intervening hills, rose the blue mountains of Mloab. We began to know our way quite well about the neighlborhood of Jerusalem. It was remarkable how our interest deepened in proportion to our familiarity with the scenes, as in some meastre we passed olut of the condition of sight-seers, with every Hinnorn and Jehoshaphat. 243 sense alert for novelties, into the quieter frame of ordinary inhabitants. This Yalley of Hinnom we had more than once traversecd, pahilfully toiling throUnli the track paved with a deep mass of loose stones, which formns its only road, from its headcl, near the Jaffa Gate, to its junction with the Yalley of Jeloshaphat at the steepest angle of M[oriah. The upper part is called the Yalley of Gihon, and commences in a slight depression of the table land at the west of the city, gradually deepening into a narrow, shady ravine beneathl Zion and Moriahl At the head are a series of three large tankcs or reservoirs, in successive stages, excavated in the rock. It is supposed these were the Pools of Gihon; they were now quite dry. The lower part of the valley is precipitous; its craggy sides are caverned with tombs, and opposite Zion it is hennmmed in by the Hill of Evil Counsel, haunted with the terrible memory of Acelda ma. It is a remarkable thing, even in this won.i -44 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. derfill allegorical land, that the Holy City should be fenced on two sides by valleys, one of iwhich is looked on by the adherents of three religions as the scene of the final j,(ndgrment, whilst the name of the other is used by our Lord himself to indicate the place of final doorm* —Jehoshaph-at and Geheunna. Strangely different are the associations of these twuo valleys. The vo-lley of Ked ron, linkecl with tenderest and most solemn meomories in the elarthly life of our Lord, watered 5-y thle brook over which lie so often passed Ocn his waNy to Bethiany: once crossed by the joyous throng iailing his trirlmphal entry into Jerlsaleln, mrlade glad witll clhildlren's hosannals, and strewn with festive palms and garments; and, more than all, hiding soimewhere in its tranquil bosom the garden of bis froeqent-pravers and his midnight agony. Thle Valley of Itinnom, on the other lhand, black with the darkest associations of the vlathlcew v. 22 (Greek). Hinnom and Jehoshaphat. 145 cruel heathenism adopted by the Jews froom the earliest races of Canaan, echoing to all time with the piteous wails of the little children burned alive in its gloomy depths, the cries of the victims having been drowned at intervals by the tabrets of the priests and worshippers collected in its groves. In the days succeeding the captivity, when Phlgan idolatry ceased to be the sin of the Jewish nation, hlorror at its past scenes of torture and critne mnade it a place it seemed reverence to desecrate. The bodies of malefactors and the carcases of animals were thrown into it; and, to prevent its polluted air infecting the city, funeral fires burned there night and day. Thus Gehenna, the ravine of Hinnomn, with its terrific images of continual corruption and unquenched files, is used by our Lord himself as the type of that place where their worm dieth not and their fire is not quenched. Imagine a Christian of Apostolic times standing at the angle on Mount Zion on which we stood, and in one glance sweeping iq.6 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. those two valleys: tile ravine of iHinnom on one side, laring with its fearfil fires, macle typical by the voice of IHim wlho, kilowing t the terrible abysses WIhichl skirt our mortal life deemed it the highest conilpassiol to nveil thllem; with the dreadful story of Judas haunting its precipitous sides-Gehenna, the dark valley of the shadow of the second death oin the other side the Valley of the KIedron, sacred with the memlories of redemption, the nights of the Savioutr's prayer, the garden of his redeeming agony, where lhe tasted how bitter the cu1 of oul curse was, and held it fast, and drank it to the dregs-the scene, perllaps, of his futulre mzanifestation in glory, when his feet should stand on the MIount of Olives. Then think with wlat feelings such a Christian would:return to the city, to plead with the niultitWdes there for whom tle PRe(eemer9s tears had fallen and his blood had been shled, to turn friom the doom so certain and so fearfTully pictured, to the salvation also so cer Hinnom and Jehoshaphat. 147 tain, so dearly bounght, so free to all wiho would listen and believe. And do not we Clhristians of tblese da-ys all stand, as it were, at suchll an angle of thle City of God, with judgment and redemption as plainly in our siglit a And shall we be less earneS t? One strong contrast between Oriental and 7European cities must strike all Eastern travellers, and this is especially the case with Jerusalem. Thlere are no sulburbs. There is no easy intermingling with town and country life,-the city overflowing into the country in villas and suburban villages, the country blending with thle city in marketgardens, parks, ard groves. Immediately outside the gates of Jerusalem you are in a solitude, almost in a desert. Pits, and ruins, and!heaps of rubbish lie on all sides, wild Bedouins meet you, and neglected wastes surround you. In some measure this must, of course, be the result of bad government, the insecurity of life, which compels men to seek the defence of numbers, and the inse 148 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. cnrity of p'roperty which paralyzes indcustry. Yet tlhere are traces in thle Bible of a sirmilar state of things, partly, no doubt, fiom similar causes, but partly, also, to be attributed to the hilly nature of the country. Close to the Jaffa Gate were deep, unguarded pits, and one very deep one especially, which often reminded us of the danger which our Lord appealed to as so familiar to the Plharisee who sought to entangle him. "' If any of you have on ox or an ass, and it fal1 into a pit," was a catastrophe evidently as common in those days as it must be now. The cement which lines an undergr'ound water tank cracks, and becomes a broken cistern, and is abandoned, leaving its open mouth a snare to all unwary animals; wells are dried unp with the same result. Evidently, also, a few minutes sufficed to bring oir Saviour to those "desert places" which he so hlabitually sought for prayer, thus practically proving to us that no abstraction of mind will compensate for being Hinnom and Jehoshaphat. 149 absolutely and consciously alone with God in secret prayer, when that is possible. This was our last walk in the neighborhood of Jerusalemn our last survey of the two valleys of doom and redemption, of Gehenna and Gethsemane, which so mysticallly skirt the earthly Jerusalem, " the city of the great JKing." VIII. Solomon's Gardens, HEBRON, AND BETHLEHEM. ~N Tuesday, June 17th, we set offi ior thle hill-country of Judea, IHebron and Bethll lehem. It was to be a three days' excursion, and much for us depended on the way il which it was carried out, as the success of this expedition was to decide whethler we should afterwards attempt the longer tour through Northern Palestine. WYe started in excellent spirits, although not with the best horses in the world. The master of our hotel was our dragoman. The air was light and fresh with the pure morning breeze, and all promised well. We walked to the Jaffa Gate by liss Cooper's industrial school, where we saw her (cl) Solomon's Gardens. 151 Jewesses seated on low divans round the rooms, happily occupied in sewing, weaving, and m1ak1ino twinee,e At the Jaffa Gaate we met our horses, muleteers, and bagwgage, with thle English Consul and ),[rs. Finn, -N-who lhad very kindclly underltaken. to introduce us to Solomnon's Gardens at Urtass-a place in which they took especial interest, on account of the model farm lately commenced there with the object of affording employment to Jewish con v erts. We were elntering David's country. The incidents of his life, with its strong contrasts of lowliness and grandeur, joyT and sorrow, were entwined iwith the namie of almost every town and village, lill and valley, cave and desert we saw. Wde were leaving Jerusalem, where the words and deeds of three * Information on missionary subjects has, for the most part, been omitted from these notes, because the intervening yeals have, of course, made any such infornmation out of date. 152 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. years, and more especially the words and deeds of three days, of incarnate Godhead made all other associations sink into insigmlificance, except as connected -with ther, for a portion of the Itoly Land rich in Old Testament memories, but linked to tlhe }New Testament only by the sacred name, of Bethlelernm and the journey of thei virgin mother to that hill-country of Judea which we were now traversin(g. Was IHebron, the Levitical city, the City of Refnge, the home of Zacharias and Elisabeth? Then the footsteps of Mlary must lhave passed across these very hills. Alone, in the guardianship of God and his angels, with the hope of the world in her heart, and in hers alone of all human beings, sihe crossed these hills, lonely, no doubt, then in many places, though not with the dead solitude of to-day, to meet the one other woman whom God gave Ler to share the wondrous secret of her joy. Una and her lion, Milton's picture of the majesty of purity in Comus, and all other Solomon's Gardens. 1 3 imaoes of purity, tenderness and courage; seem rouglh and poor beside that maiden of Galilee fearlessly pursuing her quiet, unnoticecd way, — " Tracing huge forests and unharbored heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy, perilous wild3,"to the mnother of the Baptist. Let us not desecrate it by any mediteval allegorizing. No lilies sprang in her path, no imillennial lambs did hter homage, no glory shone around her. But God was with her, — "A thousand liveried angels lacqueyed her, Driving far off each tthing of sin and guilt;" and all along the solitary way her lowly and,happy soul nmagnified thle Lord, and her spirit rejoiced in God her Saviour. Well, indeed, may wTe in tlhese latter generations call her " bles8ed," foi) from the heavens where she rests the word comes back to us firom the lips of her Saviour a2nd ours —comes backl individutally to each one of us who love him, scalecd with a richer beatitude than even bers W54 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. as his mortal mother —sealed with a " yea," and multiplied with a " rather": " Yea, rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God, and keep it." And looking round about on the disciples, with that comprelhelsive, yet most individualizing glance which St. Mark records, he said, " Behold my motlher and my brethren." That mornliniog ridce across the breezy hills was very inspiritinog. We crossed more than once one of Solomon's aqueducts, a covered channel which conveyed the waters from the neighboring hills into Jerusalem. In many places the stones which roof tlle channel are broken in, and the shepherds water their flocks at the stream which still florws there. We passed one of the many places in this country sacred alike to Jew and Aloham-medan, and firaurght with a tender interest to the Christiatn, — achel's tomb. It is now a muassive, solitary mosque, jealously guardled fr'om intrusion; but below it is a cave-probably the original cave-tomb of Itachel —into Solomon's Gardens. 155 dime interior of which you may peep throulgh a small openling, although you may by no means enter. Except for its desolation and melancholy solitude, thlere is little in it to harmonize Awith one of the tenderest histories of human love and sorrow in the Old Testament. HIoNw close homle to the heart that narrative comnes amidst all the old-world histories of violence, and feuds, and petty war faires between tribes which were the germs of nations A.Amidst so much that is foreign to our life cand tlounghts this history is fresh and heart-touching as if it had happened in the inimmediate circle of our friends. It is as if amlidst one of the old, deserted, giant cities, with tlheir massive walls and Cy. clopean temples, and traces of war and savage worship, we suddenly came on a home strewn witlh he traces of recent everyday occupations, household vessels, children's toys, pillows irtafLini o the impress of the head that ] ay t' ee y eterday, an1d wet -with the tears of mourniers It is the one sanctuary of uncalculating a"nd self-sacrificing a-ffection, un 156 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. sullied by the low and covetous aims which debased so much of Jacob's life. For her salke tihe seven years of service seemed nothing to him for the love he had to her. It was an intense personal affection, indepelldent of all cost and all consequences. iDe;rer to him alone than all on earth beside, her children seem to have been dear to himn more for her sake than even for their own. " Ie alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him, 9 was tile plea for 13enjamin with Joseph. Then what could exceed the pathos of Pachel's own history, the southern fervor of her character, the death caused by the very fidlfilment of hler passionate desire? And afterwards the dying mother's name of sorrow changed by thle father into the zname of tendcerness, the son of her ainguish into the son of his rigllt hand; the tender minuteness with which, long years afterwards, Jacob digresses from. the blessing of Joseph's childlren to the mother's death: " And as for me, whllen I came firol Paclan, Rachel died by lme in land of Canaan, in the way, when yet Solomon's Gardens. 157 tlo ere Twas but a little way to come unto Ephrtilth;"i the kindl of fond, mnotlerly pride, which mIlado the fath11ler clotle the motherless boy in the coat of many colors-all these tende -touches wAhich linger around every cumemory of the beloved wife, do they not show that God melted Jacob's heart through human love as well as by divine revelation a The angel who was more than angelic surely wrestled with Jacob at other places besides Peniel, giving divine strzngth to so many since Jacob, by that very touch which seemed to take all strength away. Surely that death and that tomb by the vwayside brought the bereaved into the presencle of God as well as Bethel and Peniel; and I-le whose love includes in its depths all that is highest and tendlerest in the love of father-, mother, or hlw)aand, tauloht Jacob much through that love and sorrow. It seermed a cocl and lifeless mnonuinent to such a history, that sllapeless, solitary building(. A mound of earth, or a tree, which springl would have renewed every year, and iS8 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. r-made the cradle of flowers or the home of birdls, would have seemned more in harmiony with that simple narrative of love, and life, and death. W,7e reached Urtass before micldday-the valley of So!omon's Gardens. As to the economical value of this farm as a missionary experiment I can off'er no opinion, but its value to us was very great as a restormClon, of the Bible pictures of the Holy Land in its days of glory and beauty. Such as this valley is, the whole land in its peopled and cultivated portions must have been-a land not only flowing with milk and honey from the upland pastures, and the breezy, thyme scented hills, but 1" a land of wheat, and barley, and vines, and fig trees, and pomegranates-a land of oil and olive"-a " l]and of fountains and depths which sprincg out of valleys and hills"-a " land of hills and valleys hicoh drinkleth water of the rain of heaven." The farm louse (id,Fesllillam's) was situated in a quiet nook, low in the valley.'We had our cold luncheon on stone seats in the shads Solomon's Gardens. 159 of a tree ontside thle house, which was not unlike an Italianr farnm house. Our friends guided us up the hlillsides, which were very steepl but irregularly terraced. Every level bit was covered withl vines. The bright, fresh green of the luxuriant vine leaves was very refi'eshlig to the eye after tile.brown, burntup hills around Jerusalem. Tlese vines need no artificial watering. Tihe reains of the rainy season, ald afterwards tlle hleavy night dews of the dry season, keep thlem juicy and vigorous, As we climbed the hills we continually came on the roots and stumps of old oaks, terebinthls, &e. sprouting healthily with freshl leaves. These% witlh fig treoes and vines, (Tgrow to the summit of thle hills. The improvident peasantry think nothing, we were told, of destroying trees to maIke charcoal, and thus thlle corntry is steadily laid waste. B3ut thle old, glnarledl roots were thlere to tell tlheir tale of noble trunks and canopies of leafy branches, once fillng the valley -wilth thle music of leaves and bir(ds, blending with tlhe voice of a streamR which still flowed below; the stately 16o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. forest trees, and fruit trees large as forest trees, no doubt festooned with clusters of golden and purple grapes. The productions of the level base of the little valley were more prosaic, except for their suiggestions of home comfort, which give their own peculiar charms to kitcllen gardens, and for the beautiful little stream which eddied and prattled along its stony channel. At the head of the valley is an ancient rock-llewn tank, filled with fiesh water from a stream which flows into it through the arched entrance of a cool, subterranean chamber. The fountain head is at some little distance, and the water is conveyed into the valley throughl an ancient excavated aqueduct. From this tank the stream falls in a cascade to the lower level of the valley, by the side of which it flows with the ininitable music of abundant water. The channel is rocky, and overshadowed in many places with steep, wrild crags. At the head of the dell, near the tank, some fine old fig trees cast their broad, thick folds of green shade, Solomon's Gardens. 161 which is met at its edge by the delicate shadows of pomegranates, then glowing with scarlet blossom. This was quite a bower of shade. Below is a garden of herbs, fruit and vegetables, planted in little spaces, each isolated by its tiny water course. These channels are filled every eight days by the gardener's remmoving with his foot the little earthen dyke which closes them. It is replaced and thle channel cleared in the same way. By this care, two or three crops are obtained in the year. Probably withont this Egyptian method (ifde Deut. xi. 10,) abundant ordinary crops might be procured. These vegetables, herbs, and fruits help to supply the Jerusalem market, as probably, in old times, they supplied Solomon's royal table. After luncheon and our midday rest we rode to Solomon's magnificent tanks or pools. There are three of these excavated in the solid rock, and in sonle places supported or appronachled by walls or steps of massive ancient mllasonry. They were full on that June afternoon of living water flowing through them. 6 67z Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. A ruined castle stood near. But the tanks, which mLust have been excavated two thousand years at least before a stone of the castle was raised, were not ruined. Throughllout the Iloly Land no relies of glorious old times are so perfect and so satisfactory as these tanks. Temples, and fortresses, and palaces, are scattered r defaced, but these retain the fresh lmalk of the Norknmani's tools, anld renmain a witness —not to the pomp of superstition, or royalty, or war-but to the useful labors of an industrious and prosperous peopie, and a blessing to tle peasants of to-day as to those of three thousand years ago. Thence we proceeded to Hebroni, the city of David's early reign, a rough and ]hilly ride. It was growing dark before we reached it, and ou-r tired horses stnmlbled frequently over the rocks and roots on the hillsides. Before night, however, our tents were pitched, and our camp fire was lighted uncder the shade of "6Abrcaham's oak." The horses, mules and dconkeys, with a foal which belonged to one of our mares, and greatly per H-ebron. 1 63 plexed the riders by its erratic ways, were fastened to stakes near at hand. W~~e commelnced mending, sketching, and cllatting, over adventuires, and were at home and at rest as muchl as pilgrims could wish to be. Vines trailed their lunxuriant branches along the grouncd-stales to support theln being expensive luxuries in this treeless land. The horses were led to water at a neighboring spring; muleteers and servants were grouped in various picturesque attitudes; our dinner was slowly but surely in counrse of preparation by the Mlaltese cook; thle moonlight fell, chequlerinog the ground through the black massive branches and the delicate leaves of the oak, which was large enough to have sheltered a legion of soldiers. And it was Abraham's oak. Here, on this plain of Maamre, under just such a venerable oak, at the door of a tent (probably more like the camelhair Bedouin tents than ours) Abraham had welcollecd the three mysterious visitors, two of whllom were aungels. HIeavenly feet had trodden this ground. Had heaven grown 164 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. distant since then, or only invisible, and were such heavenly beings indeed encamping round us for His sake, who in his hmliliation needed their ministry once, and coinmands it always? That God cares for, and protects the feeblest of those who seek hlis care, we cannot doubt, and lHe works out llis mercifuil purposes rather with living agellts than wit nunconscious instruments, rather w-ith hands than with machines. Such monghts often cheered us in our night encamlpments in the Holy Landcl, and in regions far more dangerous than tIebron. Although our party happened to be entirely unarmedl, I cannot remember experiencing a sensation of fear. Before breakfast the next morning, Juneo the 18th, we took a beautiful ride along the side of a very fine ravine to Adoraim, the modern Dura. From the top of a mosque near the poor cabins which form the village, we had one of those views so frequent fiom high land in the centre of Palestine, enlbracing a large range of hilly country east and -,,~,~-~~~-; — T~-_______~_ j/__= \\\\\\____ —-' — _____~~ _______-~._-~-=~ __________~_____ ~~~~~~~~~~~___ /-~~~~~- ~~'-~~~~~- ~ ~ ~ /jj =,;~-T~~Ij=_:~ _ __~=~______; ~ _______=I_~ —__________ Bible Lands A Mosque. Bible Lands. A Mo1que. Hlebron. 165 west, from thle Mlediterranean to tle hills be. yond Jordan, fioi'o the sea to the desert. My horse fell with me at full gallop on some simooth slippery turf, happily just after we had passed the ravine along the precipitous side of which the road wound quite unguarded. I walked back to the tent, and in that way had more leisure to notice the high vineyard walls, built of rough stones, and leavini narrow lanes between them, with occasionally a rude tower at an angle of the walls. These are characteristic of' Southern Palestine, and are the lineal descendants of the ancient solitary " cottagfe il the vineyard." The proprietors often come froom their houses in Il-ebron and live in themn during the griape season, at once to enjoy and to protect their property. In the afternoon Awe rode to I-ebron. It was more like a European town, (not one in Eng land, certainly, but in some remote part of Italy,) than any other place we had seen in Palestine. Thllere were some faint indications of prosll erity and life about it; numer 166 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. ons anld abundant wells, water trouohis, gardens, vineyards, walls not in ruins, reservoirs well kept, even a road in the valley. W5e had some slight hope of being pernmitfed to see the inside of the HIaraln or Sacred Place of Itebron, honored by Mioslems, Jews, and Chrlistians as Abrahamr's Tomb. Mohanmmedan bigotry had yielded to bribes at Jerusalem, enforced by the echo of our artillery at Sebastopol. And why not here? But all our solicitations were in vain. The authorities of Hebron were either too strictly bound by MAohammedan law, or too ignorant of European politics to pay any attention to our demands. A crowd of angry looking idlers, and boys evidently not averse to the use of physical force, began to collect, and we were obliged to content ourselves with inspecting the outside walls. These were in many parts built of very large stones with that groove round them which we had been told at Jerusalem was characteristic of early iebrew or Phmnician workmanship, like the stones left in the Temple enclosure. Thus Hebron, 67 the bnlidling carried us back to the dcays when David dwelt hlere a king, whilst the, cave beneatli it is indleed tuhe resting place of Sarah anild Leahl, Jaecob, Isaac, and Abraham, the fi'iend of God. Froim Ifebron we clirrbed a steep terraced hill, sometimes scramblin( on foot, leading our horses. At the top was a grove of fine old fihg trees, rneminding one of the groves wlhich crowned tle " highi places" in ancient days. The,- view fioom thlis was rich and beantifil, and might be taken as some faint likeness of what it Imust have been in DRlvid's time, wbhenl the industrious Jews had entered on the olive gardens and vineyards of that earlier r-cte, which, with all its crimies and savage idolatr;ies, must have possessed elelients of material civilization lost to the lawless Arab peasants who people the land now. The rioyal city lay bloy w us, not far off, in the luxuriant plain, from a centre in the valley radiating up three separate hills. Its white roofs, domles, and airy minarets, and especially tle great mosque over BIachpelahFi 168 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. blended beautifully with the olives, vines and figs which surrounded them. Around was the lovely, rich Plain of ialnmre, and beyond, cornfields were still golden on the lower uplands. Again a night under the shelter of Abraham s oak, and in the morning (Tllursday, June 19tll) once more across the hill-conntry of Judea on our way back by 3ethllehem to Jerusalem. The especial interest of this day's journey was that it lay through the heart of tile scenery of David's Psalms. The rocls and hill-fortresses, the'" thousand hills,'9 and the quiet vdlleys, the green pastures l)y the still waters, thle wild caves and ravines of the shadow of death, amidst which we journeyed this day, were precisely those which have fromn our earliest childhood been made allegorical to us by the inspired poetry of the shepherd king. Our first thoughts, however, in mounting the heights east of the city, were of Abraham's pleading for Sodom on these very hills, Bethlehem. 1 69 and afterwards beholding fiom the samre spot, not thle sea of verdure he had seen there before or the glealn of sunny waters which we see now, but the heavy sea of smoke going up between him and the mountains oi MIoab,-no wreathed folds of morning mist, but the smoke of a burning' land. The first place we reaclhed was Tekoabi, after a wild, rough ride up and down pathless hills. One valley we had mnuclh difficulty in crossing. The side was very steep, and clothed or rather — thickly sprinkled with trees, the roots of which perplexed our }lhorses, whilst their branches perplexed us, and more than once forcibly recalled thle fate of Absalom, At the bottoln of this valley, which was a broad level, were corn-fieids and meadows, beside an abundant, but still and noiseless streamn-" grleen pastures by still waters," sufficiently rare in this country to impress themselves strongly on the meirn or y. Some peasants were at work in the fields, who warned us off their territories with angry gestures. n'lr"""" 170 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Tekoall only differs fioom the ruined towns or villag'es which crest almost every hill-top, ii its ruins being6 althougll untenanted, more extensive and perfect than usual. This does not imply much; but since "1 ruins "9 in the HIoly Land frequently imean little more than shapeless hleaps oi stones, thlere was a certain interest in exploring tlle foudations of houses, and the remnains of tanks and wells in thle city of the " \wise woman 9 of old. The walls of a Greek churchll were still stanlding, with large stones of earlier buildingis used in its founldaltions, and a stoine font. The chief interest of tle place, however, consists in its being one of the " fortresses," the fortified places on the rocky heights of Judcea which suggested to David the image so frequent in his Psalms Thou," and not t;hese strongfholds of my country's hills, "CLart my refu'ge and my fortress." Our next expedition was to the Cave of Adullam, as our guides called it, I suppose incorrectly, since the refuge of David and hlis outlawed ban.d is considered to have been Bethlehem. 171 more probably situated in one of the valleys opening on tile rich maritilme plains of thle Plhilistines, on' whomn tlhey made their'orays. This mattered little to us-it was doubtless suclA a cave. Dauring tle exiled anld outlawed period of hlis life, whlen David, like so mlany of whom tile world wafs nlot wortllhy, "' wandered in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earlth," lie lhad recourse to more than one such hiding-place, and why not to this 2 In itself this cave was remarkable, not indeed wrouglht by stalactite and stalargmite into fairy likenesses of cathedral, palace, or grove, like some of the caves in our ownl liinestone formations, but interesting, nevertlieless, from its situation and its size. Its only opening is into a narrow, deep, dry ravine. Its only approach is down a steep mountain-path to a ledge of rock, over wllhich you lhave to creep on hands and knees, one at a time, round a projecting crag into the cavern. This j utting rock, which effectually screens the entrance, once passed, the open 17Z Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. iiig is large enough to adimit abundanice of liglht and air, and introduces you at once into a wide and loftvr hall, with a vaulted or clome-sllhaped roof, tile top of which was only lighllted up at angles here and tliere by the daylighlt, or further in by our torches. This led into other chambers, and into one passage which we did not penetrate. A mllore secure hiding-glace could scarcely be imagined. The entrance even could not be reached to smoke its tenants out, anJd except that, no mode of attack, but blockl-ade, could ffect them. Tlhe opening, was about halfway up tihe perpendicul:vr sides of tle ravine. Wild birds flew uneasily about the crags, disturbed by our presence. The deep, narrow glen lay in shade even in that burning mid-day, and suggested forcibly by its lifeless stillness and darkness, in contrast with the valley of still waters and greea pastures we hacd just plassed, thle otller valley mentioned in the same Psalm — the sunless, waterless ravine of the shadow of death. There was something most interestilng in Bethlehem. 173 thlirs, as it were, applroachliug the Psalrns fi'om tile oWlier sicde.. Usually the thoutlollts are present witli us, and we illustrate theon with David's images. Sliritual life and refreshmlent —the sure guardianship of our God -11is presence lightitng us at that hour whce all otler ligPlts go out, -these are facts fainiliar to us, and we clothe theln in the ilnagery of strcam, and meadow, and dark raville. Blt with ])avid, probably this was reversed; lie satw thle still waters, the " cavern hiding-place," the commnanding "fortress," tlhe gloomy alley, and he linked these to th3e realities of t]he unseen world. Lookillg at llis flocks peacefully feeding' under Iiis shepllerdl care, he thoughlt with hlappy confidence, "The Lord is my s]hepherd. I would traverse hill amnd valley beforle these trusting flocks should lick pasture, and will Ile suffor' Ine to wai:nt Or, watchfully leadinl tltin throughl such a desert ravine as tliis —ole of tllose " desler,-creeks," tlrou 11 wvhich Bedouill maranldcersl rngligt invade tlle peacefulf land —itlhout a tuft of herbage or a r\CVP 0y*a I VLy r ~~ v r~NZT 174 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, drop.of water to sustain the wearied sheep, gathering the lambs in his arms, carryincg the sickly on Iiis shoulders, guarding them and guiding them with his rod and staff, lihe im-ig!t feel' 6" And I also, though I have to passl through a ravine darker aind more desolate than this, will fear no evil, Tlhes,: slheep fearlessly follow me here, and I will fearlesly follow tliee, my Shepherd; for even there thou sllalt be with me. M{y rod and staff lead and protect tliem-Tn y rod and thy staff, they comfbrt mLe." Or, in after years, lookling firom thlis mountain stronghqold, or hiding in suchl a cave as this, lie thought, C" Not tlhese stone walls and this rocky hleigllt, or this inaccessible cavern, are my true security. The Lord is my rock and my fortress, my high tower, my refuge, and my hidingplace.9' It is difficult to describe thle frieshness and beauty which those precious, fainiliar psalms acquire by bein g tllns visibly approached from the-side of the scenery which asugogfested their imagery. Z:)old Bethlehem ~ 1 75 After leaving 6 Adullam," or whal;ever this interesting cave should be called, tlhe next feiatulre of importal ee in this day's jonrney was tile aseent of the " FPrank Mon tain." This is a conical hill, with a sqn1are, level summit, llgiloer thlan tile hills'around, of a peculiar shape among their usual unvaried r'ounded fornms and commanding a fine viewr Thlere are nills on it, and the mere fact of' its having' an outline of some c1earacfer amidst these mionotonous heights, is said to have gained it the honor assigned it of being thle last flortress held by the crusading Fr t;nls in tlle Holy Llnd. Our last point was Bethlehem, to which) on account of the day's journey and the ap. proaching darkness, our visit was unfortnnately very hurried. We lingered a little by the Well of Bethlelern, waiting for some of our party. But, precious as the hours were to us, we coulcd hardly call this time lost, \we were so much inte-rested in watching several of the Bethlehlein mnaidens who were draxwing water. 176 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas; Their manners and appearance were so different fi'on most of thle peasantry of thle country; their bearing was so modest, and yet so frank and trustful; and'their miovements and figures were so graceful, as they sat on the edge of tble well, or lhelped eacl otlher to draw up the hleavy pitcllers, in their wlhite classiscal robes, Withl their llead-dresses of gol(l coins; and their nveiled taces hlad suchll a noble beauty, a Greek regularity of feature, combined with such dig'nity of expression. It seemed as if a glory liad fallen on them fiomn the virgin mother of Nazareth, who broughit fortll here her first-born Son, and wrapped tiim in swaddliong clotlies, and laid llimn in a mllanger here. I cannot sav the refieshincont it was to see women once more wlhose icdeas of modestP' and good manners consisted'in something else than in hiding their faces, aind cowering like frightened animals wh en spoken to. These Bethlellem Christian worlen are, we were afterwards told, renlowned for their beauty and for their good character, They are said Bethlehem. 177 to be descendants of thle Crusaders. The Europeans of Jerusalen engage themin, wlenever they can, as upper servants. There was something indescribalbly touching to me in finding this little knot of free, noble-looking women at the birth-place of HIim to whom the women of Christendoml owe, in every sense, everything which ennobles and blesses theml for eternity and for time. The water they so courteously drew for us was the water of "' the well hard by the gate," which David longed for, but would not drink, as the purchase of the blood of his faithful soldiers-the well to which he had doubtless often repaired when feeding those "'few sheep " in the upland pastures near. As we left Bethlehem one of the women we had met at the well, and given some piastres to in acknowledgfment of a draucght of water, rushed out of a house as we rode by, and took my hand and kissed it fervently. I wonder if that little gift had come at some moment of need, and so awakened that burst of grati 178 Wanderings over Biblle Lands and Seas. tude. It seemled to give one a link with a home at Bethlehem. Our best views of the town were as we left it, and looked back on it from tie hill, the long1 crest of which its white walls and houses crown,-a brown, bare hill, like the thousand others near, but terraced into vineyards by the Christian populationl:, ald looking down on a valley 6' standing t'ick with corn,"9 whilst beyond are the pastures of the wilderness where David kept his sheep, and guarded thein fronm the lions anld bears which roamed up from. the Jordan Yalley, awnd be. yond and above again, as always here, the mnountain wall of loab. cernfields wher'e _Ruth gleaned, hills where the boy David 1kept his sheep; but to us how infinitely Inmre than this —hills where shepherds once kept watlch over their flocks by night-whllere;1the glory of the Lord shone round themn through the midnight-where the voices of a great mulltitude of the heavenly host salrog, 6' Glory to God in the highest'"-whe7re the Lord o-I angels, hligher tlhean heaven, oncte lay, a babe Bethlehem. 179 wrapped in swaddling-clothes, cradled in a manger. "For unto us was born that day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." I lhave often since thought it was unwvise, but then and thlere our hearts revolted from the beads, and relics, and even the Church of the Nativity, witl its candles, and silver shrines, and marble floors. Cannot any one see it any day at a dioroma in London? At all events, we did not visit it. I know that the subsequent historical interest of that church is great-that it was one of the earliest sanctuaries of Christendom-that Jerome, the fervent, stern, rugged father, lived there in a cave for years. But I cannot, on the rwhole, regret that our unmixed associations wnith Bethlehemn were of frank and noblelooking Christian women drawing water for us from David's well; of a white town cresting a hill where shepherds feed tllheir flocks, and at whose foot rest golden corn-fields, and where all subsequent historical events are merged in the one event which began all 18o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Christian history-that ILe to whom every knee in heaven and earth shall bow once lay there, a babe, on a poor Galilean womnan's breast, Hle who on the tlhrone of heaven wears that nature still. We returned to Jerusalem by the till of lEvil Counsel, with its one solitary tree, passing in an hour or two from the mountain village where we know the Saviour was born to the desolate fields where it is said the traitor died. Once more, and for the last time, we returned to Jerusalem as our home, and felt how even the nlost interesting and sacred minor associations of this wonderful land are din and distant compared with tile thouglhts which gTather round every linutest toquch and incident of that one life and death which are to us, in the midst of all the darkness of earth and time, ligl t and life, wisdom and redemption, the opening of heaven, and the manifestation of God. IX. Church of the Holy Sepulchre, AND THE LAST VIEW OF JERUSALEM. YTE had left our visit to the Church of the, Holy Sepulchre until our last day in Jerusalem, not purposely, but because localities more satisfactorily ascertained, and less desecrated by superstition, had engrossed our attention. There are three distinct sets of historic association which give interest to this land of ruins; the events of the old Jewish history, of the sixty years during which the New Testament was lived and written, and the Crusades, that great revulsion of European life to the East. With the first of these periods the Church (clxxxi) 182 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. of the IIoly Sepulchre has, of course, nothing to do. With the second, it has (at least in the opinion of many) but a very doubtful connection. One verse in one Gospel might ]lave set at rest for ever, in a few words, the question of the situation of Calvary, and therefore of the Sopulchre, No such verse exists, and in the absence of direct proof, one can oldy hope that the place which is an: nually desecrated by an imposture and a fight amnongst those who bear the name of Clhrist, is not Calvary. But with the third period, the era of the Crusades, or rather the whole of the middle ages, the Church of the tHoly Sepulchre is the great central point, the inmost sanctuary and shrine of medieval faith, the sacred relic around which the battle of Mloslem and Christian raged for centuries. In visiting this Church, we felt as if we were leaving the home of Jewish hings and prophets, and the earthly footprints of the Son of God, to enter on a region full, indeed, of deep humarn andl historical interest, but al Church of tde Holy Sepulchre. 183 together on a lower level, more of an interest akin to that wlich wve feel in RIome or Canterbury, althongli in an intenser degreeo Our thought, as we descended the steps into the onurt outside the Church, was not so mulch of Gol]gotha, or the tomb hewn in thle oeck, as of tihe countless pilgrim feet which had trodden those steps for centuries, of the innumlerable hearts which had thirobbed witlh eager joy, or almost stood still with awe in approac'hing thos;,e sacred walls. The front and the arched doors are very massive and elaborately ornamentede Yoll colnpare them mentally, not with anything in tlhe Bible, but with Venice, or 3Milaln, or Cologne. oun are transported into the middle agges, the middle ages orientalized. You pass fi'omn the burnling sacrifice into the clark churchl. You are no longer in the city wllere David dwelt —where N;ficodemus cam.e to Jesus by nlight —by w:lhich the brook Kedron flowed —to whlich her King camnle lowly and ridings on an ass —and which the little children entered, singing -osanni-ahs in the light 18i+ Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. of the spring morning —where the blind and lame were touclled by those healing hands, and walked and saw. You are in another world, lighted, not by the blaze of the Syrian sun, or by the starlight of the Syrian night, bnut by faint rays stealing through meodideval windows. The air around you is no breeze from the Great Sea, or the nlountains beyond Jordan, but the air of a vault perfumed with incense. The group of Moslem soldiers sitting on a raised matted stone platform at the left of tlhe entrance, reminds you for an instant of the scenes enacted here at Easter, when Turkish sabres have to restrain Christian worshippers firom tearing each other in pieces in their eagerness to light their torches at the "sacred fire," a singular collision of three religions, Mohammedan, Clhristilan, and Pagan. But passing on, you forget this strange discord, and are back again in the days of Richard Cceur de Lion, or of Godfliey of lBonillon, and then medieval religion seenms to rise before you allegorized in stone. Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 185 Thla Cui rclh of the middle ages is indeed the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Althoughl there can be no doubt that throughout the middle ages there was always a Churclh of the living Saviour, it is a most significant fact that the centre of Christendom in those days was a tomb. A sacrLed tomb indeed, but yet with reverened be it spoken, a tomb not sacred even as that of Stephen or Paul would have been, for it was an empty tomb. The grave of the humblest Christian contains relies which one day are to be quickened into glorious, incorruptible beauty. The sepulchre of Christ, could it have been found, would have contained nothing but the stone ledge, "the place where the Lord lay." The dust of the grave clothes might be there; the anlgels had gone back to heaven or were ministering to some lowly HIagar or little chilcl on earth; the embalming spices had never been needed there. Maya we not feel that tihe lowliest sod beneathl wllich thle dust of a Chrlistian lies, and over whllich the eyes of Clhrist watch to awake it into immortality. is G86 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. moroe truly sacred tlan that empty selpulchre? M3ay we not be sure that the body in which the HIoly Spirit dwelt, and which shall awake in the likeness of the Lord, is mnore truly a relic of our Redeemer, than the abandoned grave clothes and the elmpty tomb? Yet it was by this empty sepnlcllre that medieTal Christendom stood without, like the Mfagdalene, weeping. The best and most characteristic of its hymns are tinged with deep melancholy. Their fragrance is that of the embalnming spices, rather than of the resurrection morning. Their gaze is into the darkness of the sepulchre, instead of towards the light into the face of the risen Saviour. Surely those pilgrimages to the HIoly Sepulcllre -are as contrary to the whole spirit of Christianity, as tIle Aworship of the glorified Virginll AIother-' Mary the IimmacuLlate." whllicil has succeeeded them. To turnr filn the, living Lord to the abandoned tollnb is as strange a perversion as to turn frorn the dy Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 187 lg Redeemner on the cross to the mournful mother beside it,"'Tis life whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not deatll, for which we pantIolre life and fuller that we want." And ours is a religion of life; our Lord thle Prince of life, the Bread of Life, the Life itself, who burst the bands of death, because it was not possible that hie should be hlolden of them. All this presses sensibly on the heart in the Cllhrch of the Holy Sepulchre. It is the religion of thle Crusades petrified, and the spirit of the middle ages comes over you. as you stantd within these massive wvalls. Thlle wretched rivalries of the various Churches, and the 6" narrowing lust of gold" which fosters these rivalries, are on a lower level again. But these did not build the granid arches, or heap every sacred spot with precious stones and metals. It was a true devotion which is represented here, however below the truth may be its objects. Th'llat fliglht of steps leading to a stone platform, which to you may seemn little more 188 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. than the rood-loft, or the Calvary of any medieval chllrchl is wlhat Crusaders died to wIin. Countless forms have been prostrated there in passionate adorations. We saw a man reverently embracing and kissing columnn after column. As you stand there the tllugllt comes overpoweringly to you, " Can, this indeed be Calvary? the place where the CrIoss stood, the three crosses? Did our SaViour's dying eyes indeed look dowl firomn this lheighlt on tile sea of curious and imocking faces of those who had conme to see tlhat sight, and on the three women and one apostle who venttured to stand close beside Him, before that anigry crowd, and confess thlat they loved Him? If so, you feel that in order to feel any realization of tlle scene, you must shut youlr eyes and exclude all the incongruous treasures with which thle indutstrions devotion of centuries has encnumbered tlhe place. If this once irregu:lar hillock were indeed Golgotha, and the new sepulchre wherein never yet man lay, beside which the voice of the risen Saviour was first heard, Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 189 -ws iddcd wlere that slhrine now stands, tlhen whlat a desecration th]is buildiqug is! \T loat one would give to be able to sweep awaly this heavy roof, and this wretchlled gold, and tlhese marbles, and look up from this very spot to the sky which was veiled at midday, and over the guilty city which had poured out her nmultitudes to witness, without a remonst rance the perpetration of that unequalled crime'We (guard with jealouLs care every trace of our national hleroes or our beloved deacl,-the pen laid down as it was leit, thle poor cliairs and table where Luther and this Cathlerine sat, tle. unfinislhed work, tlhe garden walk'" where prayer was wonlt to be nade."' Why, thien, can Chlristendom h]ave comlbined to destroy every thing which w1as clhlaracteristic in this place-of most sacred mnelmories to us all? - The only thou-glht which enables one at all to colprellhend it, is that in the Empress Helen:a's ti Ime wNhen the " IIiven tion of the Holy Cross" took pl)ace, tle memory of the cross as an infatmous punilnhment'had not passed 1go Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. , eigllteen lu1.dred ye'ars ago, tlle first rcco{ritioil of tlle Son of CGocld as not only tf!e Jewis!l Messillh, thle Christ, but thle Desiire of all lation,: t1he Saviol of tlhe world. One could Ifancy Sychar. 243 tllt the zpowers of life in nature blad -been unlfLettered here ever silice, in viltue of tl:at aclknlowMledgment; and that the valley of Sychar Was ever after to be a friagment and firetaste of p)ai adise,-a place of streams and rest, full of all nManner of trees pleasant to the eyes, and good for food, a little spot of ealrth visibly sub)ject to tle life, vrinog sceptre of thle "1 second Mlan," the Lordt fiom heaven. No place to be compared with this in fertility and beauty exists, they say, in Palestine. WAe had, certainly, seen nonie. It was pleasanit, too, to thlink that this town and valley may also lave been the one allnded to in the eigllth of Acts,-the words translated in John iv., 6 a city of Samaria," and in Acts viii., " the city of Samaria," being the same. If so, this place was tlhe first scene of a Samaritan Chlurch, admitted by Peter and John, on the same level as the Clhurchl at Jerusalem. In this city there was tlel 6 gleat joy." And ]here a(gain, no doubt (Acts xv.), as in the otlher Churches of Sa'm aria, the tidings of the conversion of the 244 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas; Gelltiles in Asia 3M{inor " caused great joy to the brethren," rejoicing that thlle Saviour of the wolld hlad at length been welcomed by the hleathen wVorld as once and for the first time in their own Samaritan city. Thus th-e valley was full of happ)y and livingi associations, varied and refr'eshing as the sound of its own many iwaters. n011 Aonday morning some of our party walked acain tllrough the town, and saw a potter sitting at his wheel Imoulding the red clay into tlhe simnple, but pictuhrsque bowls and pitchllers used by thle peasantry. I longed to be able to speak to a few poor peasant women and cllildrlen who canme and sat by me under the sllade of the nmulberrytree after our tents were struck. Fellowtownswomen of the woman in Samaria, surely the void and thiri'st in her heart existed also in theirs. If they could only have learned about the living water. At three o'clock in the afternoon (MIonday, June 30) we set off again, ncder tle gua'rd of two Bashi Bazouks serlt by the Keilnakan. Samaria. 245 Reluctantly we ascended the hill out of that lovely valley, with its cool dewy atmospllere, its abundant strcams, its fig-trees and mulberries, covered with vines, and its holy and 1h.appy Inemories. After a pleasant ride of three llours over breezy hills wve reaclied the place where our tents were pitched by a spring in a green valley just under the Lill of Sanaria. Our route had no-w broken off, for an interval, friom all definite incidents in tlle narratives of the Gospels, and in the hIistory of the apostles. From Sychar to Nain, on the northlern side of the Plain of Esdraelon, we are met by no namle which recals any especial deed or word of our Lorid. Yet the impress of his footsteps was with us everywhere. Again and again lhe lbad mounted these hills, and descended into these valleys, and crossed these hot and weary plains. There was one association which could never leave us, and on which it was almost a relief at times to fall back, after having our attention fixed keenly on some especial z4_6 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Ecene. Thlei mere distances we traversed eiabled iis to realize in a way I had never do:le befbre, what tile activity and fattiogue of. those three years if His ministry must have b~eeu1. He had traversed these paths on foot. It is evident that hiis journeys were not made in silence. The apostles were wit him, and as they walked lhe tauglht them. Parable and proverb, and immortal sayings, and words of tender warning and sympathy, w~ ere always fallinlg from his lips, as tlhey went through vineyard, corn-field, or solitary path among the flickering shadows of the copse wood, or under the olive groves. And thlerefore, perhlaps, it was only Jesus wllho was weary when they reached thle well at Sychar. It would be interesting to trace how many of onur Lord's parables or instructions were given as they went in the way. "As 8tley wzaet in Ik/e wagy a certain man said unto him, Lord, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest. And Jesus said unto him Foxes Samaria. 247 have holes," tle jackals which hunt about these lhills by niight lhave holes to hide themselves in by day, "6 and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay hris head.'9 Again, "Jesus going up to Jerusalem, took the disciples apcat i~n the wzay, and said unto tlhem, Behold, we go up to Jerusalem, and thle Son of man shall be betrayed unto tfie chief priests and scribes; and they sliall condemn him to death.s' Again,' As he went through the cornfields on the Sabbath-day,"' the Pharisees found fault Awith the disciples fbr plucking the ears of corn; and he said unto them, "Tile Sablath was madle for man, and not man for the Sabbath." Inst'ances mnight be multiplied of this wayside teaching. Indeed, the number of the lessons of eternal truth called out by casual words or acts, or by the scenes he was plssing thlrouglh at the time, would plrobably far exceed our Saviour's more deliberate and formal instructions. It is this which gives 248 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. the variety and vividness to his teachings. They were conversations, not' discourses." They were not put together as human words and works are; they grew as divine works do, and they live. Of two incidents in the gospel we do, however, know that they happened among these Samaritan hills. To one village in the country through which we were journeying, the Saviour of the world sent forward messengers to secure him a night's lodging. The name of the village is not given, any more than the name of the woman "who was a sinner." Sectarian bigotry prevailed over the common hospitality of the East. " They would not receive " One who was going up to the rival altar at Jerusalem. They did not know what that passover was to prove, nor who was to be its pasehal lamb. The fervent natures of the sons of thunder flashed into revengeful indignation. There must have been more fire in the eye of the beloved disciple, even in his chastened old Samaria. 249 rafe) tlhan the medieval painters have given hinm in youth. But the Lord turned and rebuked, not the inhllospitable villagers, but the disciple whom he loved. He said to the brothers,' Ye knowi not what manner of spirit ye are of. For the Sonm of man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." And quietly, unueomnpiainingly, without another word of comment, I-le for whom and by whom. all things were created " passed on to another village." This is the only incident recorded in the New Testament to tlme dishonor of thle despised Samaritans. Perhaps the simple and tonching story which we usually call the parable of theo good Samaritan was actually a true narrative of a deed of kindness, marked by I-Him who observed the widow put her mite into the treasury, and saw Nathlanael under the fig-tree. But Lowever that may be, its scene was not in this immediate nmeighborhlood. Tile second incident of gospel narrative wlich mnay probably have occurred in Sama-~ 2zo WIVandcrings over Bible Lands and Seas. ria,' as our Lord passed tlroughl Samaria andll Clilee, on his way to Jerusalem," is tlle healing of the ten lepers. If this was so, somewhere on the rocky paths a1mong those Samaritan hills our Lord's heart was gladdelned by the sighlt of one grateful human being; and he, like the grateful woman of Sychalr, wvas a Samaritan. One would like to idelmtif y as much as any spot in Palestinle tfle place iwihere the healed Samaritan leper, nlo nmore constrained, as an unclean person, to keep " afar-off," fell down at the feet of Jesus, giving himz thanks. The more definite associations of the district around Samlaria, interesting as they are, are scareely sacred at all; and yet the situation of the city of Samaria is beautiful, and its ruins are more extensive than those of any other place in Palestine. Whenl we reached the stream at the foot of tlhe hill of Samnalia, beside Which our tents were pitched, it was nearly sunset. Flocks of sheep and goats were collected around the abua'.dant, clear spring, to be Samaria. 25 1 watered from its'lrge, rockly basin; and the wolnen ofl the village of Samaria (Sebastiyeh) were tilling their laroge earthen pitchlers, to carry thlem up the Ywinding road to their lhomes. As we rode up the hills, to see tle ruins before the light was gone, we passed other wonlen toiling under the weight of their heavy water-jars. Sanmaria, like o Nablous, and unlike most of the rellmaining cities in Palestine, retains the Greek namne ilerod gave it (Sebaste; Sebastiyeh), instead of its earlier Hebrew appellation. Its situation is indeed royal and beaut'iful, oni the levelled summit of a roundedl, isolated hlill, separated by broad., fertile valleys fr'om the lhigher hlills around, through the openings of TTwhichj it comlmands a very extensive range of distance. Its aspect must have been most queenly when the temples and pal,;ees of the kings of Israel, and afterwi'ards of HIerod, crownced the platform at its sulmmit, rekarig ltheir wl ite columns and gilded roofs on the height to which the whole terraced hill must have seemed a magnifi 252 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. cent fligllt of steps, tier above tier of terraces,re een with in es, sil ver with olives, or g.ol:!en Arith corni, leadinlg thle eye to the royal city at the summit. Sixty or sevlently columns are standiing on -thle top of the hill, vindclin( rounld in a double colonnade fiom nHear the remains of a massive, ancient gate, flanked witlh ruinedc to wers. These columns were, we thought, monoliths, and some of them granite. Oni the site of the city is an Arab village and many cultivated fields. The peaslants were not very civil; but perhaps they were afraid we might lprove tax-gatlherers, deservecldly their greatest terror next to the 2Bedoninso A mosque, formerly a church, rises among' these cablins. It is called the church of John the TBaptist; and this tradition (naturally conniecting the memory of the murdered proplhet and thle murderous kinug) points out as thle scene of Johln thle Baptist's death. lnto the wall of this chllrch is )bulilt a Corinthian column, probably from ln erod's temple. Samaria. 2 3 In the crypt underneath the church, shown to us as the prison and the tomb of John the son1 of Zacellarliall, is an ancient stone (loor, like somle of those in the tombs of the kings at Jerusalem. Be-fore descending the hill we lingered to look at the magnlificent panoramic view of mountains, rilch plains, and wooded valleys, embracing a range east and wvest fromn the Mediterranean to the hills beyond Jordan which were bnurning that evening with all the glory of sunset.'l his was the view which was seen fromY- the flat roofs of the palaces of Ahab and tIeroci. Some of our party saw jackals and a wolf within a hundred yards of theml, on the site of Ilerod's city. Such was the beauty of the place, and such its desolation. 13ut what were its nelmories They are not only disconnected with whlat is Inoblest ir prolafase history, bnt almost entirely of the thinigs that perislh. Samaria was the metropolis, not of a nation dinlly feeling its way to tile light, but of (one deliberatelya t lon 1ing its back on a lighlt not dimly revealed, 25-4 \Wanderlngs over Bibl Lands and Seas. and therefore the best lunman as well as all divilne elements ar1 absenlt fri'om its records. [Not only Las it no David or Daniel or lHannah, but no Leonidas or Socrates. -No deedc of true heroism or generous humanity consecrates its site any more than any life of true godliness. Its two conspicuous names are Ahab and Hlerod, the murderer of the blameless Naboth and the mnurderer of John the Baptist, the slaves of Jezebel and of IHerodias. Its twvo most remnarkable buildings were Ahab's temple of Baal, Awhich Jehn destroyed, and I-erod's temple to Angnstnus, whose columns are prob ably those among whichl e rode. The connectioll of Elijah and Elisha with Samaria is scarcely an exception. They came to it, not as residents, but as prophetic visitants from the wilderness or the scho-ols of the prophets, and usually Aithl messages of doom. One single deliveranice, indeed, cha(racterizes Samaria-the panic whicll seized the besieging army of Benhadacl, and laid open the richly furnished and provision Samaria, z25 ed ten-ts of thle Syrians to tl]e four famishing lepers. A massive ancient gatesvway was, as hlas been said, the only ruin of importalce which wre remarked besides the colonnade, and we naturally fixed on it as the scene of that adventlure, one of the most romantic (if the expression lmay be used) in the sacred narrative. XWe could imagine the Ihungry and so lately hopeless citizens passing through that rocky portal, at first in small groups, with slow and watchful movements, looking around on every side in fear of an ambush, and then, as party after party reached the camp, and not an enemy appeaired, tile sudden rise of confidence and the rush of the fiamiislled nmultitude through the narrow gateway, tlramplingo down in their eager haste the sceptical ofi'cial who tried to keep order among them. A feast ready spread for the famlished, free range over their deserted hills for those who had been so long cooped np in hopeless inaction; yesterlay a mother who'lad murdered her own child for hunger, and camle to complain about it to the king, 2z6 Wanderings ovcr Bible Lands and Seas. not as of a crime, but as of a ba'rg,'ain 1nnflilfilled, all wo-lnanly feling and all moiral sense absorbed ia' the mad craving of lihuiger-an d to-day, rescue, freecom, andcl plenty of every kind!I History presents us withl fev more sudcden and joyous contrlasts, and yet we heal of no thcanlk-offerillg, no song of praiise. The godless spirit whlich displayed itself in scepticismn in the nobleman, wlhen Elislha prophlescied delivelrance, was mailifested after the deliverance i-n thle selfis1, reckless lhaste of the lpeole wlho trod him to death. Hopelessness in dang'er, selfish thankflnt'l ess in deiiverance, the whole incident is a striking illustiration how the alienation of mlen from God involves their alienation from one another. The memories of Samnaria are memories of crlime, and idcolatry, and of a splendor, all of 4' the earth, eartlhy,'" illumined by no true liL:lt of Divine truth or of lumalan love. We descendled the beautifull terraced hill without regret, and were velry glad to ficnd slhelter in our little encampment in the valley, where a Samaria. 257 clear, abundant stream gurgled through the brushwood close to our tent-doors, tinkling over its pebbles, and eddying round its little siiugly beaches, and giving us an unlimited supply of good water for -all domestic purposes. Throtugh the night at times we heard the jackals wailing and screaming fiom the neigllboring hills, and early in the morning the goats from a village near came to drink at the rocky basin which had just formed the bath foro some of our party. On the next morning (Tuesday, June 24th) we started at four o'clock. It was a beautiful ride. In many places the hills were cultivated; in almost all they might be clothed with luxuriant vegetation. We skirted the valley of Sebastiyehl and as we climbed the opposite hills, and were winding through a pass leading into the Plain of Jezreel, we caught a last and most impressive view of the royal hill of Samaria. How often the city must have burst firom this point on the 9 258 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. sight of the Kings of Israel as thley were returnin, fi'om Jezreol I For beauty few sites can equal it, aPnd we could not thelp lingering to gaze and innmgiue LIow the royal city must ha\ve lookl-ed throutgh this lravine, on its syilmmetrical isolated hill, with its crown of temples and palaces, and it;s queenly robe of terraced vineya-,rds, cornfields, and olive gardens, sweeping majestically into the valley. But its tei)mples were to Baal or to Cresar, and its palaces were scenes of riot and crime. There was nothing to regret. Soon afterwards we descended on thie Plain of Jezreel, the great battle-field of Palestine, the inheritance of Asher. It was beautiftul thell, although the corn had been reaped. Rut in spring1, after thle rainy season, it mIust be delighltful when tlle fields of young corn, theiI delicate green shot here and there with thle tints of countless wild flowers, especially of the scarlet anemones, undlulates like a sea as far as the eye can reach odn each sidle, rutnning up among the hills and headlands, ia Jezreel. 259 long creeks and spreading bays of living verd 1 re. Unfortunately for the inhlabitants, this rich plain has many an outlet thronugh tlle Jordan valley into the Desert, and the Bedouins, with tlleir camels anAd black tents, make inroads on it now as easily as their ancestors, the Aidianites of old. Tlhere are few places on this side of the Jordan so perilous to travellers as Esdraelon. About mid-day we reached Jenin (Elgannim, the well of garl dens), a place of springs tand gardens still. Our thirsty horses soon scented the water, and quickened their steps to reach the extenlsive trouglhs: whlere largle flocks of pretty, long-eared goats and sheep, with herds of cattle such as we hbad not seen for a long time, were being watered. Fromn these abundant and well-kept wells, we were clirected to a garden, where they spread mats for uts, under the shade of a magnificent muiberrly-tree, the fruit of nTwhich dropped around ius. We were regaled on mulberries, figs, cacuLmbers, and tomators. Soon after this an 26o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. American and a Dutchlman camne, with mules and horses, and pitched their tent under the same mnulberry. Then we discovered that Jezreel, where we had intended spending the night, was not a safe place of encampmnent, on account of the Bedouins, and as no other halting-place was within rea(ch, provided with springs, and uninfested with these desert marauders, we had to find anotler garden, and encamp for the day and night at eI in. Although we regretted at the time the " annexation" of our mulberry by the stran( ers, we afterwards much preferlred our second resting-place, because it was tnder the shade of a garden at the edge of the plain, ald gave us a fine uninterrupted view over the whole broad level, with its occasional islands of hill, and its reaches of fertile land stretching' past hIeadland after headland of its mountain coasts. Hitlter, from the heigllt of Tabor, unseon on the north, Deborah and B3arakls patriotic bandl had swept down on the hosts of Sisera, Jezreel. 26i encamped with chariots and horsemen on the western reaclles of Esdlraelon, and routed thelr in the battle of AMeg'iddo. I-ither, fiom their deserts in the East, thle Mfidianites and tile Arnalekites, and the children of the East, had come up and pitched in this valley or plain of Jezreel, with their cattle and their tents. This broad level, where now we only saw thle waving of tlin Negetation sprinhging up after the harvest, was alive with their camels and their cattle, and the movements of their horsemen scouring the plains for plunder, "'like the sand by the sea-side for multitude." The whole land was astir with them, as tile fields at evening with the hum of countless cicadas or "grasshoppers." And through those passes on the east their chieftains and all the scattered host fled after Gideon's victory. On the " high places" of Gilboa, on the north-east, Saul and Jonathan fell by the hands of the Philistines, and were lamented z6z Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. by David in thle pathetic dirge we know so well. FrIom the range of Carmel on thle west, Alhab drove into Jezrteel, the gircdel prophet Elijahll running with supernatural swiftness before himi. AnIld be`ore they reached the city, the little cloud rising from the iecliterranlnean not larger thian a man's hand, had covered thle whole sky with blackness, and was pouring down its torrents of blessing on tlhese Inountains and this plain. What a mnir aculouls change the few days after that rain mnnst have imlade in the scenery around us Long-buried and forgotten seeds of life, flowers, and corn, and grasses, springing up on hill-side, valley, and level, till all the land was one tide of exuberant life. We were in the reg'ion of chariots. Here the Syrian hosts of Benlldaad, with chariots and cavalry, lhad filled the country, and across this level'sweep they had fled befobre the Israelites, whlo had been pitched before them, "like two little flocks of kids," because the blaspheming of the Syrians might not Jezreel. 263 pass unansvered, that the God of Israel was a local deity, such as they believecd their own to be, 6 a god of hills, but not of the plains." Across this plain, not long afterwards, Jehu was seen driving his chariot furiously fr'om thle border land' of Gilead, to execute vengearice on tlhe doometd house of Ahab. Ald from that time to this, the corn fields of Esdraelon have been trampled down by Bedouin tribes and invnadilg armies, "6 children of the Eatst," and children of the West. The villages and towns which lie (like the villages on the coasts of Genoa) on the sides of the headlands wlich bound the plain, or crown the little hills which rise here and. there like islands from it, have looked down from alge to age on scene after scene of war and slalugllter. The records of its battl s range fiom the book of Judges to the Revelation; fromn the rout of the armies of Sisera at Megilddo, the western branch of this plain, to the battle of tile great daty of God Almigllty, when the king's of thle earth and the whole world are gathered together into 264 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. a place "' called in thie Hebrew tongue ArmLngeddon." Whatever may be the imeaning of that last announcement in the Apocalyptic vision, this final allusion cannot but give a deep and mysterious interest to the great battle-field, beneath whose sod such countless numbers of warriors already lie, and which furnishes the title for the last great conflict, which, we are promised, shall be a victory for the Prince of peace. oI[Io Shunem, Nain and Nazaretho iARLY in tlhe morning of Wednesday, the 24th June, our little encampment in the garden of the Fountain Gardens (Erngannim) was broken up agtain, the tents were struck, our hasty breakfast of eTggs and coffee was finished, and we set off once more across the plain of Jezreel without prospect of a shelter fronm the scorching sun, except such as we might find under tree or rock, until evening, when we hoped to rest in the Latin Convent of Nazareth. Our first point was Zerin, tile ancient Jezreel, now a collection of poor Arab huts. It is situated, like other villages on the pla.in of Esdraelon, on a slight elevation which cominands a fine view across the level, from the z66 WVanderlngs over 13ible Lands and Seas. fertfile and wooded range of Carmel on the west, to the valley of tile Jordan on the east, thlle isolated ]leiilts of' Tabor rising in them distanee on the inorth. The dogts howl and prowl around it as they do around all Arab villages, and as they did in the days of Jezebel and Ahab, and of thle murdered 7Naboth. it is remmalkable how even the intermittent and feeble adherence of Judah to God gave a stability to its mnetropolis and its govern-ment wiinh the transient and arbitrary dynasties of the ten separated tribes never 1ne1Vw. Jerusalem was supreme and unrivalled among all tlle cities of Judah, as the house of David among all the families of Judahll but in the history of Israel how often the mnetropolis is changed; oftener l evene than Ihe dynasty. Bethel minght attract the tribes sometimes when tley desired to wrench some selfish advantage bly mercenary sacri-ices firom illdifferent or reluctant Powers, but it was no centre of national unityo Shechem and Tir Shunenm. 267 tah and SainlaLia ad ezlreel were royal resideleces, lathler thal national cities. No heroic or pllatriotic songs are inspired lby these names, still less any sacred psalms. They are mere Versailles, wilti pleasuregroiunds and " Nabotli's vineyards," but with no Acropolis and no Temple —idling places of a court, not rallying points of a race. What Jewish heart in exile ever wailed, " If I forget tbe3, 0 Samaria'" With the Temple and the city of God the history of the ten tribes seems to lose all its patriotic interest, and to becomne little more than the record of a Persian satrapy, or a series of Egyptian dynasties; little more, and theLrefore far less, inasmuch as all gifts of God rejected, degrade by the measure to which they might have raised. The events of national interest connected with this portion of Palestine seem confined to the period before the parting of the stream into the two ehannels; the descent of Barak's patriotic band from Tabor, the victory of Gideon, the flight and capture of the Mid z68 VWanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. iaMlitish cllieftains, the defeat ancd deaft:l of Saul and J)nathanll on tile h:ighl places of Gii boa bewailed in David's gcncrous dirge. From thle period of the disunion the illterest of the nlational history, religious festivals, reformations, patriotic conflicts, clesperate clinlrino to the ancestral city even in its dclesecration, all are concentrated in Judah. Whllatever of interest lingers about the ten tribes gathers around individual narrative, biographies of persecuted prophets, stories of hlninble homne life. The sacred names of Israelitish hlistory are not Salmaria and Jezreel, but Carmel, Sarepta and Shnnem. The rents in the national Jewish life, however, let the light streama through on the great Gentile world beyond, and it is significant that the only narratives quoted by our Lord in connection wnith the history of Israel are those of the widow of Sarepta and the Syrian leper. But perhaps the most touching and familiar story connected with the later history of Israel is that of the "great woman" of Shunem. 269 Shunem, which place was our next halting point after Jezreel. The characters are so attractive, the incidents so touching, the details so minute, and the end of the story so happy, that it rises like a strain of joyous silln'ing, or like an illuminated frag ment of gospel inarrative froln the dreary chronicles of the houses of Jeroboan, Alhab, and Jchun. The village of Solem (Shunemr) is situated on the side of a hill, forming part of the range of Little IHernmon and Gilboa. BIeloinging to it Nere sonme luxuriant gardens of lemons and oranges, such as we had not seen since leaving Jaffa and the maritime plain. They were enclosed with fences of prickly pear. After passing these orange gardens, vwe camle to an abundant spring, welling up cold and pure fiom a cavern in the hill-side. A number of the villagers gatlhered around uls with a friendly curiosity, and one kindly lookinng woman offered me a dratiughl7t of water fiolm her pitcher, and made no request for backshecsh in re'turn. We thougllt the 27o0 Vanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. spirit of the hospitable Shunammite rmust liner around the place. Soimewshere near this fountain and these orange gardens, the " little chamber " had Cactually arisen on the wall of the house of that open hearted Jewish gentlewonman, so wonman]y i-n the thoughtful care which set the bed, and the trable, aand thle candlestick; so lprincely, in the refusal of all return. Slhe needed no favor frorn court or camp. She could receive no reward for care so freely bestowved. She dwelt among her own peopie. Then the child's voice comirnlg to gladden the householdl; thle new mxotlher's love with all its possibilities of sorlrow; the boy returning from Ilis manly occupations iin the sultry ]larvest field, and drooping, in the surnler noon, and dying on:is mothelr's knee; the little chamber entered with the mournful burden of that precious co-rpse laid on.tlle bed, prepailed with such kindly care of old for the man of God; the chlamber door slint on the silence of death; the grief which Shunenm. z77 found no untre-anceO except in action until the prophet was reachlled; the rapid ride and rest. One was a leigoht just ab)ove tlle "1brow of the hill on wlhich the city vwas built," looking down an abrnpt descent on the wlhite roofs of the Latin Convent, some honses of colnsiderable size, across the narrow valley to the opposite hills broken here and there into terraces, earth, and rocks, brown and wiarlm in tint, with clusters of grey olives amnoi, them, and the isolated top of Tabor towering alone behind and above the rang(,e of hills which immediately bonnd the valley. As we walked froth this spot we saw a group of children clustered under an olive. It was a school, and we admired the taste of thle ina-ter in the selection of their stud., and wv-)cndere.d whetlher lie knew lhow to give thlell lesso:is friom the " lilies of the field" and " tile fowls of thle air." A little flrtller up, tle broad westerri landscape opened to us) hill beyond hill, village and corn-field, :86 WVanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. and olive grloves, to Carlmel, andt tHe goldern linle of tie T yrialn sanlds meeting tlie blue waves of thle " great sea."9 On) second resting-place was at thle Jlead of thle hollow or basin of azarethll, which, as be-fore mentioned, has no outlet except at the lower end towards Esdraelon. Here we were near the ruined vineyards we had idlden over in the mornling, and commnanded the wllole length of the valley. Just below ns, was the flat roof of tle Greek convent on the traditional site of' the House of the Virrgin;" beyond it, on the left, a group of people thronging around a well. At our elevation vwe could hear no sound, but on visiting this well afterwards, we found its scanty and badly-managed water a scene of the most violent quarrlelling anlong the women of the village ior the right of tile first tern. At that heicglht, however, all this was inaiidible, or only reached us in a brloken. humn. On the blill-side on the riglit, the flatroofed hlouses rose lialf' hidden amongst trees, and con.spicuous among them the lwhits mnin Nazareth. 287 aret of a mosque glealuted like ivory amidst its I)ltck cypresses. 7Beyond the village stroetceld, in the perspective of the valley to its tormillntion, a long ran(-ge of golden cornfields, brloken at intervals by the olive groves which swept down across them from the hills. Thle valley ended in the cleft of the ]lills throngh whlich we had ascended flomn the l)lain, and beyond this stretched the broad sweep of Esdraelon, level as the sea. bounded in the far distance by the nndnlating line of the hills beyond Jordan, the land of Gilead. At that hbour every thing was batecld in its loveliest light. Hill, and valeIy, and corn-field, and thle distance glowed in the warmn evening tints, and thle long, broken shadows of the hills, were thrown at intervals across thle valley of Nazareth. We knew we nmust not trust tTle brief twilight, and lhastened to return over the broken terraces of the ruined vineyards. That aftera noon Nwalk was one of tlie brighlltest ineinories of tlhe I-HolyLand; and yet how is it possible to transfer the impression of a delight which cone a22 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. sisteGd chiefly in bcinzy there, in gatlhering thle cointrion wild flowers on those hills, in feeling tleir firagranrle, in watching the commoi chanuges of sun and shade, and day and evening on those scenes, in walking oni the roulgh rocks and broken clods of earth, and breathing the breezy air, and feeling with every sense that Nazareth, the home of the Son of God for thirty years, is no dream-land, but actnally ta place on this commnon everyday earth. Onl our way back to the Latin Convent we catne on another olive or wine-press, hewn out of the solid rock, with a pit ten feet deep to receive the oil or wine, and crossed several tanks and terraced vineyards, all now disused, and waste, and ruined. We have no " Gospel of the Infancy " like that early apocryphal book which is said by the contrast of its absurd stories to form such a commientary on the divine origin of' the genuine narrative. Our only " Gospel of the Infancy 9' and childhood of our Lord is contained in two short sentences, " -le grew in favor with God and and man," and "He Nazareth. 289 was subject unto themr1." Brief but vivid traces of those many years of love and service. Two brief sentences; —and Nazareth. Thlis is alliware know. But in tlle silence of the Book, the Land speaks to us with peculiar power, througl the scenery of the daily life of that sacred home whlose history is concealedc with so thick a veil. In the absence of thle record of words and acts, it is somethiLng to fill those years with the pictures of the breezy hills, the deep secluded valley, the wide prospects across the land from Gilead to the sea, —the glimpses of Tabor and distant snowy Herlmon, the imountain landscapes and the lonely nooks on the hill-sides, fragrant wTithll thyme and bright witfh flowers, amonrg whlich those years were spent. What thoughlits those wide views of hill, valley, Galilean villages, thle distant Tyirian slhore, the great battle-field of Esdraelon, and Hiern-on Awith garments " white as no fuller on earthl can whlite themn " awkened in the ]Redeemner's leart, and.what prayers those silent hills have witnessed, the rest of the 10 29o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. gospel narrative may tell us. Tiberias, the M3ount of Transfiguration, Olivet, Gethsemane, Calvary, give us abundant comments on the silent pictures of Nazareth. r -',T _0 } XIII. Tabor and the Sea of Galilee.' AkRLY in the morning, on Friday, the twenty-seventh of June, we left the Latin Convent at Nazareth to resume our tent life. We had quitted no place in the Holy Land with more longing to linger there. But if we had staid a year instead of a day, we must still have left with regret; and unless a visit can be prolonged into a residence, a few extra days, perhaps, scarcely add much to the force of recollection. The vividness of the first impression wears off, and there is not time to replace it by the familiarity of daily associations, so that what is lost in freshness, is scarcely compensated by what is gained in acquaintance with detail. At all events, we tried to console ourselves with (ccxci) 292 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. considerations of this kind, as wve wtound our way over the hills which separate firom the wsTorld the mlounttain cradle of the life which has transformed the face of the world, and renewed the depths of every Christian's life. It was very early in the morning when we started. The sun had scarcely risen. The long shadows of the hills lay across the valleys; the air was breezy and cool; our horses, especially the little nimble white horse I rode, were flesh and eager after their day of comparative rest, and paced quickly over the dlowns, and valleys, and wooded hills. For the hills on that morning ride from Nazareth to Tabor might really be called wooded, especially as we approached Tabor. Not that the hills were clothed with those rich masses of wood which, in the moist atmospllere of England, often make the distant hills look purple, and soft as the plumage of a dove; but our path lay under the frequent shadow of oaks of various kinds, and terebinth, and luxuriant thorn-trees. Many green and glossy shrubs grew as brushwood Tabor. 293 in the intervals, and the ground beneath them iwas often strewn with wild flowers which scented the morning air; thymle, pink convolvulus, a large bltle thistle-like flower, and a deep blue pricldly star. It was not a forest certainly, but it often recalled tie scenery at the outskirts of an English 3arlk; trees and evergreen shrubs with shining leaves, standing apart, with full liberty for the development of each, and branches feathering to the ground; with flowers and green, flowering shrubs between and amon(g them. The oaks increased in size as we approached Tabor, and grew closer to each other, yet still you could not so nmuch say the hill was clothed with wood as thickly sprinkled with trees, clustered in park-like groups, or scattered here and there, as on the edge of a felled coppice. The path up the hlill was very steep and rocky, in many parts rather perilous, winding among' the rocks and the roots of the trees. In some places Awe bll-d to climb roughl staircases of rTockl, as on the hlill road fi'omi Jafia to JferuLsalelme; while in z9+ Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. (thlelrs w-e rode alon green glades and terraces, shaded with oak and terebinth, and sprinkled with syringa and other flowering shrubs. As we approached the summit, the bridle path widened into a carriage road, which had been hewn in the solid rock. The'I e were grooves of clhariot wheels deeply worn in this road, certainly not traversed by chariots for many centuries-lprol)ably not, at the latest, since RIoman times. It led to a massive gateway; and on the summit of Tabor, to my great surprise, we found ourselves among the extensive ruins of ancient fortifications. No place in the Iloly Land more contradicted my previous image of it thlan did Tabor. From clildhood, I sappose, most of us have pictured it a solitary mountain, on whlose green pastures the flocks peacefully glraze, whose brow rises quiet and lonely to the sky. fountains in our northern clinmates give the idea of calm solitude, above the din and turntoil of the lower world. Even if nlot peaked witi wild rocks or crowned with Tabor. 29S snow, the last idea one connects with a mountain-top is that of a city. Yet the summit of Tabor must evidently have been, not a mere fortress or military station, but a city. We had been accustomed to look on the low rounded hills of southern Palestine as pedestals for townls or villages, and we had admired the regal site of Samaria on its isolated hill; but Tabor is not a bill, but a mountain, eighteen hundred feet above the sea, and rising more than thirteen bundred feet above the land immediately surrounding it. The walls have been very massive, and the fortifications very strong, as an engineel officer in our party assured us. A deep fosse surrounds the wall oil the least precipitous side of the mountain. Alongr the walls, at inltervals, were the ruins of towers. One of these had pointed arches in the doors and windows, and had, probably, been built or repaired in crusading times. Others seemed far more ancient; and some of the gigantic stones in the walls appeared to be of Jewish or Phclnician work mainship. Underneath the walls and z96 Wanderings -over Bible Lands and Seas. towers we explored a very large reservoir or water tank, lined with cenment; several cisterns, smaller, but still of considerable size, shalped like bottles, with the long narrow neck upwards; and some magazines apparently intended for corn or various military stores. Broken pottery lay around in these subterranean reservoirs, and great evergre.,n oaks grew from' the interstices of the massive stonles, which their gigantic roots Lhad here and there displaced, and threw their broad broken shladoiws over the deserted cliambers. Altogether, with the trees, and verdure, and large-leaved plants which sprang ont of tile crevices of the broke. nmasonry, it remindled us of a ruined castle on the Rhine, such as tlhenmfels. But the ruins on Tabor are not those of' a castle but of a city, and the date of the latest is probably about thlat of the earliest of those fastnesses of robber or crusader on the Rhine. In one part wve camne on the remains of a cllurch, lately partially repaired by the Greeks as a place of pilgrim Tabor. 297 age, and, perhaps, previollusly repaired by thle Crusaders friom the earlier Greeks. The peculiar fcature of the ruins, however, is that they enclose a large space of green level ground, on which there is no trace of )buildings of any kind. It must have been a strongly fortified town encircling a spacious park. This green and wooded platform is considerably lower than the edges of the hill, whose hleight is increased by the ruins of the fortifications. The summit of tlie mountain seemed to us to forn something like a volcanic crater, whose edges were walled; although Tabor is not volcanic, but a limestone spur of thie hills of Galilee. We supposed it must have been a place of refugte,e to which in times of war or dclanger, the inhlabitants of the surrounding villages fled for protection, encamping in the parklklike space within the city wAith their cattle. An illle:gnable place of refuge it mnust have been in the days of arrows and slin1g, cornfiandedi or even approached by no neighboring lteig lt, and containing such ample 298 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. space for stores, and evoen-if needed —for tile till-ige of crops. QOtr saddle bags were opened under the shade of the oakls, and we sat as long as we could venture to linger amoncg the trees and ruins; the thick foliage, the long grass and wild flowers stirring and rustling in tle breeze around us, and the whole of nlolthern a"MLd soutlern Palestine at our feet in successive landscapes, as we moved from point to point along the edge of the hill, and rested on the massive stones of thle more ancient fortifications. In winding round the mountain on our way up, we had caught various glirmpses of the plains below, of the villages of Endclor and Nalin, and over Esdraelon to Jordan and thle Mediterranean. Oin tho sullmmit we kept chiefly to the side which comlmanded the north, and saw from the hills of Galilee across the hialb table-land above Tiberias, to thle sea of Galilee, tlhe glearn of.wllose waters just caugllt tlie eye in tlhe distance, sunllk in their deep basin below tlle plain. Beyond rose the long back of RIer The Sea of Galilee. 299 mon, from that point not risin?) in one grand distinctive summlit, but stretchlilng in a loeng undulatingc line, pale with distance, but quite clear, and strealked-not crested-with silvery lines of snow. Ilermnon from Tabor wras not a siglit we could easily leave; yet the unexplored country beyond us, the hilIs and l:tke of Galilee wert, if possible, more interesting thlan these. We traced one or two strea'tns across that hot brown plain by their border of verdure, and occasional clusters of olives, and we could see too plainly how considerable was the distance yet to be traversed that day, to admlit of our lingerinc more than a few hours. We descended the hill by a rocky road, over i)art of which we thougcht it safer to walk, leaving our gentle, s-ure-footed little horses to follow. Barak and his brave ten thousand were on foot when tlhey assembled on tllis mountain, and poure:lft dowri its rock-y side upon Jezreel! sVweeping the cavalry and chariots of the Canaanites across the plain to Kishon 300 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. and thle sea. Cavalry woulld certainly have availed little on those broken wooded steeps. It was inspiriting to think how thle war cries of the little Israelitish army umust have resounded from these rockls as they rushed on, irresistible with the prophecies of Debolrai and the arm of the Lord. But there was one event commonly associated with Tabor, which would indeed pale the interest of all others if it occurred here. Can it be that on some secluded terrace of this wooded hill, the glory of the Son of God for the time broke through the veil, and the garments "6 white as no filler on earth can. wlite themn," and the face " shining as the sun," once beamned forth here througll the niglht on the three wonder-stricken apostles? At first the existence of this ancient fortress or fortified townl on the suImmit of Tabor seems so to contradict the natu ral impression of the narrative, as to preclude the possibility of this mountain having been- as tradition nakes it-the scene of the Transfiguratioll. There are ancd were so many solitary and The Sea of Galilee. 301 even desert hills in and near Galilee, that one cannot easily conceive the close nleighborhood of such a strongllold as this to have boeen the spot chosen for a manifestation, so zealously veiled fiom the eyes, and at first guarded from the kno-wledge of all but the three. Yet Tabor is a mIountainl not a mere ordinary hill - and on its rocky sides, doubtless, many a place absolutely secluded might always have been found, especially at nigllt, when it is lmost probable the event ha;ppened. St. Peter's expression, " the holy Mount," implies nothing. The Presence consecrated the place. 5Many think Hermnon the most probable scene, chiefly influenced, it would seetn, by tile far greater majesty of the scernely of ITermon, its sublime mountain solitudes, and the constant presence, on its lofty clefts, of the snow, to which tlle glistening transfiguredl garments are compared.. But when. narratives so circumstantial and simple as thlose of the three Gospels avoid every detail which could lead to a positive identification of the place, is it not probable 302 Wanderings over Bible Lands and. Seas. that this indIlefiniteness is deliberate cand dclesi;ged? All topographical details which could give vividness and reality to the incidents, are in the [New Testament so carefully specified, and at the same time all curious indications which might lead to a superstitious identification of certain precise spots, are so systematically omitted, that there is no point more frequently pressed on one's attention in tile tHoly Land than this: that Christianity, whilst as a history of facts capable of standing the strictest tests of geography, as a revelation of truths and of a divine life, vouchsafes no assistance to the spirit of superstitious pilgrimage. At Jerusalem, you can feel with certainty that your feet are treading the foot-path to 3Iethany, that yor are wandering along, the olive shaded valley where the garden of Gethsemane was, that you are standin( on the very same sacred temple precincts wrLere tlle blind and lame canMe to Jesus and were blealed. But on what spot of that valley the forehead of our Lord was bowed The Sea of Galilee. 303 in agony, or on what part of the hilly ground close to the walls of the city fell the precious drops of I-Is redeeming blood no Lunman being knows. Again, at Nazareth you can roam about the breezy, thyme-scented hills, and be absolutely sure you are gazing on the scenery of the early life of our Lord; but where the angel met lMary, or where the lowly house of the carpenter stood, no researches can discover. And with regard to the Transfiguration, might we not still more expect this to be the case? Among all the incidents of Gospel historyl none have less of a local character than this. It is a fragment of the eternal light breaking in on the darkness of time and whether the apostles had been rapt, like Paul, into the third heaven to behold it, or had seen it on this earth, would seem of comparatively little moment. It is the unseen world becoming for a brief interval seen, and proving that the unseen is not necessarily invisible. The persons in the 304. Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. scene are gathered from the depths of the inlvisible world, "wlhether in thle body or out of the body we cannot tell." Tlle scenery was not Tabor or Itermon, or ally sweep of earthly landscape, or snowy hleights of' mountain solitude; but night and an overshadowing cloud. That cloud wrapped those withill. it as eftectually froml earth as if it had been millions of miles of planetary distance in the furthest heavens. LBeyond it was tlhe sleeping world, invisible, and night. Within it were three messengers from the dead, and the Son of God, and day;-the day of heaven bealing from the face of Jesus as the Sun, and glistening on his raiment whiter than snow; and fiom ithe cloud a voice, "This is my beloved Son, hear him." The light, and the voice, and the persons were of heaven, not of eartlh. It is only on thle next day, when they went down the hill, that earth meets us again, with its perplexities and necessities, in tlle questioning Scribes, tlme wonderin g crowd which ran to meet the Saviour, time pose The Sea of Galilee. 305 sessed dumb child lie healed, and the poor, bewildered, agonized father, whose tearful, fearfid prayer he heard. Locality is, indeed) of less importance to a vivid conception of tlle narrative of the TransfiguLration than to that of any otlher in the New Testament. Whether the cloud of glory rested on Ielnmon or on Tabor, or on the holy city whose foundations are precious stones and her gates pearl, would mnake no alteration in the scene. Those whlo were eye-witnesses of that najesty and listeners to that voice were blind and deaf for the time to all earthly sights and sounds; as we shall be when once more that glory is unveiled, and the momentary radiance of the Transfiguration shall fade into the permanent light of the glorious Epiphany of the Son of God. Throullgh the afternoon, after descending Tabor, we rode across the sultry table-land, longing' for water, for oni Tabor we ha.d not come on any spring. The country becomes volcanic in character from the base of Tabor eastward to Tiberias. In many parts the 3c6 War.derings over Bible Lands and Seas. 1lai n was thickly strewn with large, black, rounded stones. At an honrl or two from the base of Tabor we reached a village, with a larige rocky threshing floor, where men were working. We ]loped to have found water here, but the villagers directed us further on to their well, which, they said, was at some distance. Whether we missed this well of theirs or not, I cannot tell; but the first water we reached was a spring at the bottom of a black, voleanic, ravine cliff, in the plain, which had so bitter, bitnminous a taste, that neither we nor our horses could drink of it. WTe scrambled out of the ravine, therefore, as soon as possible, and made all haste across the rest of the table-land which lay between us and the basin of Tiberias. AWhen we arrived at the edge of this reach of the deep volcanic ghor or Jordan valley, the lake lay rippling and sparkling, a broad expanse of refreshing waNters, some hundred feet below us. We had difficulty in restraining the eagernejss of onr thirsty horses, as they hurried. down the stony hill to this paradise of wa The Sea of Galilee. 307 ters. I forgot at the moment that thlis lak(e was indeed fresh, and not salt and bitter lilke the Dead Sea, and was mournfully anticil)ating the disappointment which awaited tl;e poor, eager horses, wheni to my delight. on reaching the brink of the lake, they rushed into the water, and plunged their heads into it, and drank with most unquestionable enjoyment. The luxury of this sea-these exhaustless miles of fresh and wholesome water, good for drinking or bathingr-after husbanding a cup full of the same precious liquid in our hot pitchers all the day, is not easily described. No wonder so many cities flourished on its shores. We descended to the lake close to the walls of Tiberias, which leant with the concussion of the earthquake which laid it waste in 1837. Outr thirsty horses had left us little leisure to lincer over our first view of the lakle, as it burst on us from the edge of the hill, —onee a busy scene of life and labor and traffic bright with cities and boats, now a 308 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. lllnely mountain lalke-reflected in its unibroken wsaters the white walls of only one poor totterinl town, and bearing on its bosonm onlly one poor crazy boat. The road to the Batls, where our tents were pitched, lay (:lose to thle lake, over shingly beaches; witl black volcanic stones and ruins of the old Roman Tiberias, strewn here and there on our right, over the little level space between the water and the hills, or rather the steep sides of the plain. Our encampment was close to the I-Hot Spring, on the shingle between the Bath House and the lake; and here we were to be at home for two whole days and three nights, from this Friday evening till Monciay morning. The thought was rest and delight indeed. The heat on those June days was intense, of that sultry, steady, tropical kind which wve had experienced at the Dead Sea; and, with the exception of one morning's ridle, the hardiest amongst us could do little else than rest, and look, and stroll after sunset along The Sea of Galilee. 309 the'beach. Nor did we desire much else. The sites of thle cities around the Lake of Tiberias are so much disluted that its interest lies in the general character of the scenery far more than in especial spots; and since we could not visit every nook and corner as we llad wished, the next best thing was to have leisure to drink in the scenery and associations of the lake in one characteristic part of it, which we did. By clay we rested in the room belonging to tle Baths, built by Ibrahim Pasha, the large windows of which, when we could venture to open the Venetians, give us a full view of tlhe lake. Our tents would have been quite unendurable during the heat of the clay. Indeed, the lake itself was the only pleasant place during the hottest hours, and in it the gentlemen of our party spent much of their time. Beyond the Batlls the hot sulphurous springs, which, since the cldays of Ilerod, l have made this place famous, trickle'd over tle pebbles into the lake, throwing out a strong snlpllrous smell. 310 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. On Saturday morning' (June 28th,) we breakfasted outside our tents before the sun rose, and watched the grey and thenl the glow of dawn spread over the hills " on the other side;" the hills anlong which the demonaic once roamed, and where the cave tombs, where he abode, still honeycomb the ravines. We were told we must on no account venture to cross to those hills, on account of the savage predatory habits of the Bedouins who infest them. The solitary boat which floats on the lake did not appear during our stay; but, if it had been within reach, we were warned by no means to attempt a voyage in it, because in the sudden storms of wind which burst on this inland sea, as of old, she becomes un-nanageable by the unskilful boat1men, and has been detained for days on the opposite shores, involving serious peril from the robber hordes. Our horses were ready very early, and we started for an exploration of the shores. Crossing the shingly beach again, and passing the ruins of the old city, we rode under the The Sea of Galilee. 311 walls of Tiberias, and then skirted the hills which, beyond it, descend precipitously into the larke, on a road hewn in their rocky sides — a PRoman road probably, we thought, for since 1Romlnu days, since New Testament days, since thle fall of HIerod's dynasty, whlat roadmakers have been here? What cities are there now, since Chorazin and Bethsaida fell into nameless heaps, between which any suchi comlmunication is needed? The poor Jews of Tiberias have no imerchandise to convey along these shores, and except a peasant's mlule, laden with corn from the plain of Gennesaret, or a stray Bed ouin horsemaln, who scorns or dreads all hilhways, what feet now tread these paths, so carefully and laboriously cut out of the black volcanic cliffs into a road, in some places wide enongh for two chariots to pass? Tllerefore, we concluded we were, in this rock-hewn road, onl tlhe sure track of Him who went about this lake doing good, from Capernaum to Be-lthsaidca and Chorazin; and the thought made us ride in silence. 312 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. BIeyond those clifis the lills retreat, and the slhores of the lalke widen into an extensive fertile plaini, watered by nmany streams. This, we were told, was Gennesaret; andl before we reached it the road diverged a little, leaving room for a height of volcanic rock between us and the lake, crowned with the black ruins of a building, with a few lints near it, called, in accents scarcely cllantged since Mary 3Magdalene dwelt there, Mejdel. On these rocky shores she wandered distracted lby the terrible reality of the dernoniac voices, wilder than the wildest dreams of madness, and yet, alas! no drleams. On these shores, probably, she first heard the voice which hushed the tempest in her soul, witll its unfailing'"Peace, be still!" And llitllerl we may suppose, she returned after the resurrection, the first witness of the risen Lord, with his "Miary" awaiting the responlse of' Rlaboni" in her heart for ever. The locality of the plain of Gennesaret is disputed; some authorities placing it on The Sea of Galilee. 313 this plain near Tiberias, and others on the low fertile lands near the flowing of the Jordan into thle lake on the north. The scenery of either would correspond with that of the Galilean parable of the sower and the seed, which naturally, not having seen the other, we now associate with the rich plain we crossed on that mlorning's ride. H-ere were the hills sweeping down the "stony ground" into the fertile soil of the plain. Here was the way-side, now indeed little trodden; and here were the fowls of the air. Birds abound round the shores of the lake, not merely the doves and woodpigeons which coo and munrmur in the groves throughllout Palestine, bat birds of various kilnds, and among others, birds of prey; we had seen eagles hovering and wheeling over the bare cliffs. Thorns and prickly buslhes abound everywhere in Pale;tine. Anld here certainly was abundance of thle good ground which could bring fortlh sonice forty, some sixty, some an hundred fold. 31a4 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Along this firuitful plain we rode for a long time between the lake and the cultivated land, pacing leisurely over the sandy beaches which border this part of the like, the little w-aves rippling up and bathing our horses' feet, and shrubberies of oleancders iil full flower leanling towards us on the otller side. Every now and tllen the beaches widened into little sandy coves, tllrough which little pebbly brooks trickled into tile lake; and once or twice we had to wade through the mouths of deeper streams. There was somnethling indescribably l appy in thus leisurely riding along the shores of that sacred lake, as we thought what voice the music of its soft ripples had once accompained, and whose ieet its waves had bathed. At the end of this reach of the lake, this bay of' ricl, low, level land, we came to a ruinous kllan, called Khan MIinyeh. The best kept of khans ha-ve a dreary deserted look to European eyes, unconsciously comparing them with inns and their welcomles. A quadrangle of bare roughly built The Sea of Galilee. shlleds around a desolate court-yard, constitute their highest attractions; but Kahn M3ingyeh was a ruined kahn, and around.1 it, as so often in this land of the " cdesolation of many generations," were scattered ruins of an earlier cdate. We left our horses near it and climbed a hill just above, which commanded a fine view of the lake. We were told that the ruins on its brow were those of Capernaum; but be this as it may, they were almost certainly the ruins of a city in wllose streets the SayVil0ou' tallght, under whose roofs he rested, and at whose gates he healed the At the time we were there we thought ourselves actually on the site of the city which was so habitually the resting-place of our Lord when near the Sea of Galilee, that it is called his own city. The lake lay before us in nearly its whole extent fi'om south to north, point stretching I)beyond poinit into pale distance. The shores were for thle most part steep, but not mountainous, and the outline of the hills not much 316 WVanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, varied. There was scarcely anything with suffilcienit form left in it to be called ruins. Indeed, we might have farncied the black unshapen stones strewni around us to have been rather the clbfr'is of some volcanic convulsion than the remains of human dwellings. In. one place, however, there was a deep pit or broken cistern, and near it lay a large stone with a circle engraven on it, like a millstone or press of some kind. The thin grass was dried to an amber brown by the intense summer heat, and the dry stalks and withered ears waved languidly in the breeze. Yet here, we thought, had been thle home of Jairus, where the only child hlad died, and lhad been recalled again to life by the voice whllich called the dead fionm Ilaces with such tencler quiet words, as those with which the mIother would havre waked her fr om sleep, "'Talitlla (little mldaiden, a term of endearinent), I say unto thlee, Arise." And in the strects once standiing here the treirmbling woman had touchedl the hlem of his garment and had boeen healed. The Sea of Galilee. 317 Here the centurion, whose servant was dear unto him, had lived, and the nobleman, courtier perhaps of IHerod, who found his fever-stricken son healed by the distant word he had not heard; and here, in consequence of that miracle, sprang up at least one believing household. And here the city was once at sunset emptied of its inhabitants, empty as it is now, for every house sent forth all its inmates, "sick and whole," thronging to the gate where Jesus stood and healed all who had need of healincg. Fancy the tears and smiles and broken words of gratitude and joy as the multitude returned to homes from which, for the time at least, all suffering' and pain were banished. Pain-but not sin! The words which once sounded over those waves as a fearful warning, " Thou, Capernaum, which art exalted to heaven, shall be cast down to hell, for if the mighty works done in thee had been done in Sodom it would have remained," were unheeded, and they have become a wail of doom which 3 i Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. eclloes fiom every point and hillside of these deserted and lonely shores. l hey were no solitude then. The white columns of temples and palaces and synagogues, and the sails of countless boats, gleamed over land and sea, and were reflected in these still waters. Busy, trading cities, baths which were the luxurious resorts of Herodc's court, stimulatecd the energies of husbandman, fisherman, and merchant. And those plains below us, if they were indeed the corn-fields through which the disciples walked and plucked the ears of corn, were no unfrequented paths. Our Lord came that the world through him might be saved, and wherever men thronged most thickly lay his path. The busy, peopled, cultivated shores of the Lake of Geneva miglht perhaps give us some idea of what the lake of Tiberias was. Yet always as now the desert plains must on these shores have-trenched close on the peopledl cities. The barren black volcanic hills which in many places rise precipitously The Sea of Galilee. 319 if'on tle lake, munst always have been solitary anid uncultivated. One of our party rode further and saw the ruins of the white columns of a temple, contrasting strangely with the black stones of most of the ruinous heaps in this district. In solne of the hills were quarries of white m-marble, which, no doubt, rang in New Testament days with the blows of the workmen. But; we were warned not to venture further in the heat of the day, and therefore slowly re traced our steps by sandy coves and shingly beaches, gathering the beautiful rose-colored flowers of the oleanders amnong their fresh green leaves-firesh as if no sun could scorch them: —traversing again the rock-hevwn road on the cliff, and passing Tiberias to our tents by the baths. All that day we could do little but rest and bathe. The bathroom behind the hall, which contained the divan which we appropriated, was built by Ibrahim Pasllha. It had a stone roof supported on handsome mnarble columns, taken from the ru1ins of the old IRo 320 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Rman1 Tiberias, close at ]hand. Htere all thle menl bathed toesetlier. Opening into this was a little room with a batl intended, we were, told, to wash the feet in, when the bathers camne fiom the soil-covered floor of the great bath. It was a vivid illustration of tlhe words, " I-e that is washed needeth not save to wash his feet." In the evening when the sun was set, we ventured out for a little stroll towards the Rooman ruins on one side, and across the hot springs on the othel, round a little quiet creek throufgh which they flow. But the heat even then and throughout the night was very great. It was long before the black volcanic rocks would cool in that hollow furnace of the Jordan valley, which at Tiberias is three hundred feet below the level of the gM[editerranean. The next day (Sunday) was one of especial enjoyment. The heat of the day combined to make rest desirable, and no further explorations of the regions round about could have been more interesting than simply sitting ~:~ ~ 9~~~~~:~~-~-i~-~~;: —.~~ML_-`I~~~I — ~~ ~~~~-~~~~:-~~~~~=~~~ ~I~~~~~~-~~~=-~~~L~ Bible Lands. Tiberias and the Sea of Galilee.T_~_~ ~~" f l ~~~i~"~~~~~-~~~-~~-~~""~~~~ —-=-=-~~~~~~~21 The Sea of Galilee. 321 still and watching the changes of light and shade over lake and hill, with tlhe Bible in our hands. We sat on the divan in the bath house, which had windows on three sides with Venetiain blinds, these we kept open on the shady side, thus changing the view as the sun went round. On tihe north we looked towards Tiberias, vlwhose white walls and towers leant frommthel point they fortify towards the lake, and werie reflected in it. On the irigllt of these stretched the broad sweep of sparklincg sea, with longr smooth lines crossino' it, lere anid there markin, the currents, and bounded by the hilly shores, distance beyond distance, in solne places separated from the water by a narrow strip of sand, whilst beyond (ancl above all towered tlle distant range of Lebanon and IH-ermon streaked with snow. Between us and Tiberias the narrow beach was strewmn with large black stones; the relics of thle o.omnan town, innlgled. with tllhe rocks 1 1 322 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. swept down from the steep cliffs which hemrmed it in. On the south the shores curved more rapidly, enclosing the waters in a smaller circle. The little shingly creek througllh wliclh tle hot springs trickled from their source in the abrupt cli-ff a few yards behind tile baths was bounded by a cluster of ruinous Turkdisllooking buildings, Ahose domes were relieved tagainst the paler hills on the " other side." Immediately opposite us the hills seemled to rise abruptly firom the lake with no intervening strip of saind; and although they were said to be five -miles distant, it wvTas difficult to believe it, so distinctly wmere every bright projecting point and bralke relieved against each other on the sky, and so plainly were each dark ravine and cleft defined. All day they glowed in the intense heat as in the blaze of an open furnace, andl the hot goldell tints Nwere reflected far into the stilt l]ake, — each fiery peak and purple clel st clear there as above; the reflection only div-ied The Sea of Galilee. 323 fronm thle reality 1)y a long broad line of in. tensely blue water in the distance, at the base of the cliffs. All th.rovugh the sultry noonl, lake and billy sllores lay before us in one dazzlin, ]lhaze of fiery light. Then a lighlt breeze sprang up, and came towards us flom the east, marking its path across the lake by a line of ripple, and at last breakicng the little waves on the pebbles at our feet with a cool music. When the sunl had set, we crept out of our shelter, and strolled afgain over the shingly beach, picking up a few rounded pebbles, or tiny fi'esh-water shells, and watching, the countless fish dart about under the clear water, or spring from it. Then we sat down on some of the black stones strewn over the beach, enjoying the breeze, with all the gospel narrativses we had been reading about the Sea of Galilee and its coast in our helarts. And hencefbrth the old familiar names rise before us new and vivid pictures. On this slingle or near it the apostles' nets had been stretched to dry. 324 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. At the point whlere Ne were ecampnlttl the bea.cl slolpel so abrnpt ly into tlie lal;e that a few steps illto the water wolnli t lake any one out of his depth. It miust I1avoe beell in just suIIC a place t1hat Peter's boat Awas tlhrust out a little from the land. A few feet would lhave been. enough to place tlhe beat beyond the reaclh of the eagfer crowd, so tHlat every syllable of those "words of everlastingf life" in' ight have been distinctly audible to every one of the multitude coImpreosed on tlhis narrow beach between the cliffs and the lake. It would be impossible to gather a great multitude on these shores now. Cities, shlips-all are gone! No tolls to be gathllered now on these deserted sllore,;-no fislhing boats ply among the countless fish in tlhe lake. Now and then a- couple of wild DBe douin horsemen would pass by us, straying fromn tlleir haunts on the other'side, which are so perilously near as to make a guard necessary for us at night. Now and then, a pair of white veiled women came with pitch The Sea of Galilee. 325 ers to the hot sprlings, or a fanily of depressed looking Jews Would rest in the shade of the baths, on their way to Tiberias, which is one of their sacred cities. But the silence and desolation of these slhores are oppressive. It is remarkable that Tiberias, a city not once mentioned in the gospels as the scene of our Lord's teachting or miracles, is the only one left on the lake. But the time of deepest enjoyment to us was the late evening, when no stray trayeller could venture out, and nothing was heard but the triclkling of- the thot springs over the shingle, and the cool splashing of tle little waves upon the beach. Then we could imagine the sudden rush of the storm down thle ravines of those steep shores on the lake, the Ilelpless tossing of the fisling-boa' t on thle convulsed and foaming waters, the majestic tread of a hurman form on the billows, the calml words of command friom a human voice instantly hushing the winds and smoothing the waves into such a calm as that around us now. 326 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. That human form we felt is in heaven now, that divine precence is around us sti'l, that ]luman voice we shAill indeed hear. And as we sat on the brink of thle llake, which hlad so long been to us like an allegory of life, and bathed our hands in the cool waves, all the quiet nlight seemed full of the words which once floated across these waters, "' Be of good cheerl it is I, be not afraid;" and all cur hearts seemed full of the response which broke once from the apostles' lips, "Truly t}his is the Son of God." Yet one scene was perhaps more present with us than any other throughout that Sunn day,-and especially at each of the three sunrises we saw over the lake,-the scene which almost more vividly and familiarly than any other brings before us our risenr Saviour, the first fruits in whose likenesses all that sleep in H-iln shall be raised. It was the time when Jesus showed hirmself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias, —that last supplementary chapter of St. John's Gospel, which seems to lead us The Sea of Galilee. 3z7 beyond the grave to the shores of life on' the other side," and yet whose chief delilght it is that its scene was here on this actual, familiar, untransformled earth, on one of these very sandy or shingly beaches. W e could not but recall continually the solitary figure seem dinmly froimn the boat after the night of toil and disappointment in the grey of the morning; the voice recog'nised at last by its power in the repetition of the old miracle; old, yet new in the significant variety of the safe landing of the unbroken net Twith all its contents at the feet of Jesus; the simple mleal which the Master provided from his stores, not fronm theirs; and afterwards, more than all, the fanmiliar converse as the little band, "w Ahen they had dined,"; walked along this shore. Yes aloncg this shore; with the quiet music of these waters rippling against the beach, and the golden outlines of the oppo-' site hills reflected on the lake in the early morning, that little band walked on, conversing as they went; and before them the risen 328 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Lord, the One who had died, was alive again, and would die no more, speaking, as he waalkeld, to Peter in few and quiet words which went to the depths of the heart. The past threefold denial, recalled by the threefold question, but only recalled to stamp a deeper consecration on the service of the future. This was the scene which, more than allny other, seemed before us. The fire of charcoal smouldering on this beach to welcome the weary fishermen; the fishes laid thereon, and the flat unleavened cakes (such as were often prepared for us) baked on the ashes; the Lord himself taking the bread and fish and giving them to the disciples; and after the simple meal the quiet conversation as they walked along the shore, — and then the gleams of allegoric meaning which flash through all these homely details, lifting the heart to the heavenly shore; and the net which, "' when it is full," the angels shall come forth and lay at the feet of Jesus, no more treading the stormy sea, or tossed il the frail boat, but standing in majesty on The Sea of Galilee, 3z9 the eternal shore. And afterwards the feast,'" - not a morning meal then, but a' supper," an evening feast when the long day of toil is over, and when thle' Lovest thou me?" shall be exchanged for tile " In that thou didst it unto me;' and the "Feed my sheep" for'" Well done, good and faithful servant, thou hast been faithful in a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."' Thus if throngh the night the Sea of Galilee seems to echo with the heart-calming assurance,'S It is I, be not afraid," its shores at morning seem no less to resound with the heart-stirring questions, Lovest thou me?' And for all the nights and mornings oJf life, what sweeter and stronger words can cheer and brace the heart than these, spoken by the same voice, to heart after heart, age after age XIVa Galilee. fN Monday, June the 30th, our sojourn at Tiberias was to close. Once more before mounting our horses, we wvalked over the places in the immediate neig'hborhood of the baths, which had grown so familiar to us. The hot sprlings, steaming with their sulphurons odor as they poured into the lake over the shingly beach; the black stones and rocks scattered round; the little waves curving round our creek the steepl) cliffs behind, 1heir slopes tufted here and there with dry, thin vegetation. We gathered a few pebbles and shells, sat a few moments on the rocks, and listened to the ripple of the quiet waves -drew the sweet, fresh water from the lalce in the hollow of our hands, and drank, and bathed our faces ia it; and brought every (CCCxxx) Galilee. 33 1 sense into contact with the sacred scene, as if instinctively to stamp its reality on our hearts, and to associate a recollection witlL every sense, wlen memory and pictures would be all we had left of it. We had seen the lake in so many aspects. At midnight we had looked out fiom our tent door, quite close to the water's eldge, over tie clear skly, fill of brilliant stars and countless nebulo, with one planet slhining over the dim hills on the other side, and casting a long silvery reflection like moonlight on the ripplinglake, At early morn we bad watched the glorious golden dawn spread over the sky above the eastern hills, till the sun rose behind them; in the haze of noonday beat we had seen it with the reflection of the opposite mountains warln and riclh, and every crevice and cove distinct in the reality and the reflection; with the breeze rippling thle waters, and crisp)ing the little waves into foam, and so still that the fish could be seen swimming through it in multitudes, their leaping tup the only sound which 332 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, broke the silence. WAe had been by its deserted cities, its gardens or wildernesses of oleanders in full rosy bloom; its quiet sands and pebbly beaches; its black, volcanic, craggy hills, and " desert places near the cities;" and now we were to travel for a few days through Galilee of the Gentiles. We soon climbed the shoulder of the height, above Tiberias, and reached the hill with two summits or horns on the edge of the table-land, from which we hlad our last near, yet comprehensive view of the lake. This hill is called IKurun IHattin, and is entitled by tradition the Mount of Beatitudes-those who have studied the subject seem to think with every probability of truth. It is a mountain-a distinct and elevated summit-and yet not wild and craggy, but containing platforms and slopes on which multitudes might have gathered and listened. Its situation is ce-ntral; great multitudes from the towns and villages among the wooded hills of Galilee on the north, from Decapolis,-even from Jerusalem, and from beyond Jordan, might easily Galilee. 333 congregLate here-whilst Capernaum, into which our Lord entered so shortly after the serlnon on the mount, and healed the centurion's servant, is [if the site be near Khllan Minyellh] quite close at hand on the shore below. There is something in the comnmandingr situation of Kurun Hattin peculiarly suitable for a discourse spoken " with authority." The sermon on the mount is so different in clharacter from most of our Lord's teaclling. It is not so much the Oriental teacher, the Rabbi, impressing truths on disciples with endless variety of parable and illustration. Still less is it the friend conversing with friend, as on the quiet beacles of Gennesaret. It is the Lawgiver, the royalLawgiver, proclaiming from the throne the laws of the kingdom of God-the laws by which lie will judge when lie sits on the judgment seat. And this hill, commanding the wide plain of I-attin, and, far below, the blue -waters of tile Sea of Galilee in their leep, oval hollow, (then reflecting in its bosom the white walls 334 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. of busy cities, and the marble facades of Roman villas, and the sunlit or tawny sails of countless boats,) seems a fit throne for such a proclamation. It began not judicially, but divinely; not with denunciations, but with benedictions; and then through all its searching and humbling, yet homely precepts, sealed by thle majestic " I say unto you," it proceeds to the announcenment of that day when the mvst appalling words that can be heard will be those from his lips, " I never knew you; depart from me, ye that work iniquity." The benedictions were unheeded, the promises were disregarded, the warnings were despised; and now on that house of prosperity and splendor, "built on the sand," tile " rain" has indeed "; descended,'9 andcl the winds, hlave blown, and it has fallen, and "great has been the fall of it." The gracions title, Mount of Beatitudes, echoes with a reproachllfl tenderness, sadder than any curse from that height on the do Galilee. 3 3 serted shores of the forsaken, lonely Sea of Galilee. Witll the recommencirng of our journey, recollmeneced one of the most continually interesting features of our sojourn in the Holy Land —the realizing in some measure, by our own toil and fatigue, what the toil and weariness of our Lord must have been durinc the ceaseless journeys on foot of the years of his ministry, so muchl of which was spent in Galilee. Galilee is not an easy country to' travel over in this hot climate. It is very hilly; and it is impossible to pass from one villa(e to another on these hillsides, or amonlg these narrow valleys, without clinbing many a steep and rugged path. After leaving Kurun Hattin we crossed a ridcge of hills, partly wooded with evergreen trees and shrubs, with prickly or glossy leaves, into another plain, or low broad valley, parched, and waterless. Here, we had been told, was one of the supposed sites of Cana of Galilee; but our guide, through some misunderstanding, had been left be 336 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. hind, and therefore we had to trust to our own researches. The soil of the valley seemed fertile, and in some places cultivated; but the crops had all been gathlered in, and we had to plough our way through the dry clods of brown, sunbaked earth, among which from time to time were scattered round stones like potatoes, which, when broken, we found contained crystals of spar in the centre. I-ills more or less wooded swept down into the valley, and on the sides of these we often saw ruins, whllich we thought might be those of Cana, and were sure must be those of towns and villages where our Lord taught and healed the sick on his many journeys to teach and preach in their cities. We rode up the hill-sides to two of these heaps of ruins. Their extent, and the size of the carefully hewn stones, gave them more claim to the title of cities than to that of mere vililages. In both there were a nlumber of n'uined walls, not merely scattered stornes, as in the poor ruins of Southern Palestine, but Galilee. 337 fragments of well-built, massive walls, with extensive water-tanks and deep wells, now, indeed, all dry. At the second there was a very fine deep well, with a large carved trough beside it, all now dry and empty, and full of snakes crawling up its sides. We should have examined this more closely, but for a skirmish among our horses, one of which was vicious, and in his efforts to bite another, nearly wounded one of us, but happily only tore the clothes instead. Nevertireless, we had time to speculate whether this well, now so significantly haunted by serpents and noisome reptiles, was not once the pure and abundant fountain from which were filled the six water-pots of stone at the marriage-feast. No vineyards now on these slopes, no water in these fountains to be turned into wine by miracle, or by the wondrous chemistiry of nature, meekly ministering alw vays at the command of the same voice; no festive homes now in the village, where Jesus, and his mother, and his disciples once were guests! 338 Wanderings over B3ible Lands and casea On descendcinog' the hill iwe lbad to ride still a long way -through the ]lot valley, witllhout sl ade, or water, or refiesllment of' any kinld (our muleteer wIth the, provision siddle-b)ags having failed us), until we came to a village. It was a dreary, oppressive ride along that burning plain or valley, where he the hills kept off all the air, but gave no shade. From sunrise when we started, till past noon, through out that valley, we saw not one human being, and tasted not one drop of water but the cupful we had brought in our little flasks, This is perhlaps partly the reason why the village we reached on that noon, (the name of which we do not know) stands out as such a cool, refreshing pieture, a green type of shade, and refreshment, and rest. It was situated on a slope at the further end of lthe plain. The oxen were treading out tfle corn on the threshing-floor levelled in the rocky side of -the hill, and near it was a spring of good, cool, sweet water, an abundance of which was poured into the troughs fbr our thirsty horses. It was alwaays one of Galilee. 339 the especial pleasures of our journey to see and hear the eager delight with which those tired, patient creatures sucked the water whlen we came to a well. The people of this village were very friendly and open-hearted. Whllen we dismounted they brought Ils bread and water, and what was a rare luxury, an abundant supply of good sweet milk. Our horses were fastened to the outer branches of a gigantic oak, whilst we rested under the shade of the same tree; and the villagers assembled in various groups around us, the men gravely sitting on the ground in little parties, discussing the strangers, and the women timidly approaching in the background, wondering especially at the Frank " sit" (lady). In many of the villages through which we passed it would neither have been pleasant nor safe thus to dismount and repose without guard or arms of any kind in the midst or the people. More than onceangry and contemptuous glances and gestures had been die 340 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. rected against us, which made us glad to escape; but in this Galilean village all seemed simnple, and friendly, and hospitable, remindcling one of the tales of Arab simplicity and hospitality scattered through French "'Recueils choisis," and juvenile literature of that kind. Thus we had a delicious hour of repose and refreshment under the shade of that magnificent oak, with the hum of the villagers' conversation lulling us to sleep, like the noon-day murmur of bees. But there was one little incident in connection with that friendly village which more than all its shade, and hospitality, has stamped it with a kind of tender, sacred interest in our memories. Among many of these simple peasants there is a prevalent belief that every Frank is a Haakim, a wise mian, a doctor, a physician. Before we left, therefore, two or three of the women who had been timidly hovering near, ventured close, and taking me as the mediator, anxiously pointing to the sick children Galilee. 341 in their arms. The little creatures were evidently Idrooping and suffering. One poor mlotller I especially relmemliber who brought us two sick little ones, and seemled to forget all her timidity in lier loinging to have them cured, and her confidence that we could do them good. W\e can never forget her imploring looks and gestures, and the beseeching tones of her voice, as she looked at us and then pointed to tlhe little sufferers. And we could only stroke the little drooping head that leaned languidly on her bosom, and take the little feverish hands in ours, and give her kindl looks, and hoping she would understand the pity in our tones, as well as we could not fail to comprehend the distress in hers. She little knew the mingled emotions her entreaties called up in our hearts, or the scenes they recalled of the days of the Son of m1an on earth, when in this Galilee, perhaps in this very village, they " brouhllt nto Hlim all that werl' diseased, and he healed them." " For in Iin- was lib," and in us 342 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. was nothing to help these poor, distressed, confiding people! It touched us very deeply to be appealed to in this way as superior beings, and feel so powerless to do or even to say anything to help them. How we longed to tell those poor mothers of Him.! But kind looks and a little money were all we had to give these friendly villagers, and with many a lingering look we mounted our horses and took leave of our hosts. From this village the scenery became less monotonous and dreary. We left the burning narrow plain along which we had been riding so many hours, and crossed some beautifull breezy hills, wooded with green shrubs, dwarf trees, like a coppice lately felled, with some of the taller trees left standing. On the other side of the hills we came to a large village called Shef Arma, where the women crowded round me with eager childish cu'iosity, wanting to examine the contents of my carriage bag, and the meaning of my note book, which I took out and wrote in to amuse them. We had to wait here some Galilee. 343 little timue to gain informnation as to our tents, which we founlIc had been pitched atthe fuarther end of the tovwn. WAe were not sorry to escape from the cuirious crowds who were r1apidly gatlhering around us. Tley were by no means so respectful and courteous in their demeanor as the friendly peasants in the village of our miclclday halt, and we were glad to sind our encampment removed some little way fi'om the houses in an olive garden at the outskirts of the town. Near our tents was a large drlaw-well, at which the women of the village seemed incessantly to be filling their pitchers. The veiled figures were constantly passing wvith pitchers on their headsc or shoulders, and the noise of eager talkinlg, broken every now and then by angry disputing, did not cease fill sunset, and recommenced before sunriise the next morning. On Tuesday, July the 1st, we set off soon after sunrise for Caipha on the sea coast, and Canlmel. Our route, after descending from the hills, lay over sand lheaps covered with dry, long-stalked plants, varied with flower 3-4 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. infg shrubs*, one wi-th a crimson bell-shaped flower, and another with blue spike of blossom1 like the Veronica in our gardens. It reminded me of the sands swept in for miles by the Atlantic on some parts of the western coast of Cornwall, tossed by waves, and drifted by winds into countless hillocks, bound together by coarse grass and various seaside plants. On our left rose the range of Carmel, which we were approaching, and which forms the point at the southern extremity of the bay. Some of our party diverged from the plain, and rode a little way along its wooded sides. Carmel is not an isolated height like Tabor, or even a distinct mountain like Hermoen, but a long range of fertile hills broken by wooded dells, yet sufficiently united to constitute one ridge, terminating in the steep cliffs of the promontory, from which the white walls of the great motherconvent of the Carmelites loolk far over the Mediterranean. Among that long wooded range was the rocky height in the forest, Galilee. 345 commanding sea and plain, with its spring near it, which is supposed to be the scene of Elijah's sacrifice. But of this we did not hear until too late to visit it. Before reaching Caipha, at thle foot of the promnontory, we forded a wide but shallow stream, close to the sea. We were told to follow carefuilly and closely in the steps of our guide, because, above and below, the current was stronger and deeper, and might cause us some difficulty. Where we crossed it did not wet our feet, and just served to cool the legs of our horses. Yet this was "that ancient river —the river Kishon," which forces its mray thlrouglh a pass of Carmel some few miles above. Its whole course in summer is not more than a few miles, and its depth, I believe, in no part sufficient to navigate tlle smallest boats. But it is perennial, a quality which gives any streaim, of a few miles' course, a claim to be called "ancient," in the land of the shortlived sunrner torrents; and after the rains, no doubt it would sweep a fugitive army, at 346 Wanderings over Bibl Lands and Seas. tempting to cross it witllhout lknowing tile fords, with irresistible force into the sea. BIore than this the song of Deborah does not imply, although to the northern imaginations the words certainly suggest a very different river, from the small stream quietly pursuing its way over the sands which -vwe forded on tlhat summer noon. In Caipha we watered our horses. It was more like a town than any place we had entered since leaving Jerusalem, but not one Bible association detained us among its narrow streets, and after a short delay, we commenced the ascent to the promontory of Carmel. The road was good and wound up the face of the hill, overlooking the sea, and in some places shaded by fine trees. In the convent we were most kindly and hospitably entertained by Fre're Charles, who had just returned from a tour on the business of lis order in France. I-Te showed uls hlis album, to which all visitors, if they wish it, are desired to contribnte eitller witl pen or pencil. The air of the whole place Galilee. 347 was rather French than Oriental, from our polite and lively entertainer himself, to the suite of rooms with French furuiture provided for those who wish to stay any time at the convent. There was certainly little in what we saw thlere to recall either Elijah, according to Carinelite tradition, the founder of tvle order, or St. Lonlis, tle founder of this convent; but into tile interior of thle mo;lastery, of course, feminine feet dare not illtrude. Froln tile windows, and fromn thle galden below, we looked down oTn tile Meditterralnean, breaking onl thle sands at the foot of Carmel far below. The steep) sides of the cliff wTere dotted Nwith olives, ad withll tll breezes on this leighcilt, this broad sweep of selt in fiont, and the fruitfidl wooded range of Mount Carmlnel, with its gl.ades:Iand shady dells stretclling inland behind, one can well fanlcy a lieart weary with the hollow conventionalities of the Europcean world tiltrniiig to tle mnonastic seclusion of this Iountain, swept clear of convlentionalitieo. (it might be fancied) by the grand recollections of ita 348 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. solitary prospect, as its atmnosphere is swept'pure of talalria by the seoa-breezes. Tl)ere are, moreover, means of exercising benevolenIce in the Pharmnacie, now presided over by an Itali'n monk. -We understood Fre're Cllarles to say that many of the neighboring' peasants apjply for medical advice and remedies lhere, but that little gratitude is nmanifested by them, and no missionary work niaking progress among themn. HIave any of tile monls who residce lere, and say mass over " Elijall's cave," indeed comne here Awith such thoullhts, and if so, what have thley found.? Rest for those hleavy-laden with earlth's cares-reality and truth for those weary with the world's fallsellood —are to be'ounlll in. no place or t/ti,?/, but in One Person, as near us in Paris as on Carmel. It would be interesting to know sometlhing of these Syrian convents, whose outer courts mnake sach hospitable resting-places for travellers, —unless, indeed, thle monastery is only tie reproduction of thle hollow outside world in miniature, the larger ambitions of tlhe Galilee. 349 court and camp exclianged for the petty ambitions of the monk. With a gratefitl fe3ling towaIrd Fr'ore Charles for his clheerful courtesy, we left tile convent in the afternoon, and wound our way again down. the facte of tll cliff to Caiplla. Frorn Caiplla, after recrossing the Kisllon, we had a beautifull cool ride of fifteen miles, over thie sands allong the curve of the bay of Alka (Acre). Htere our encamplmrent was in a garden, or orcharld of palms, figs, and olives. Our nMaltese cook ha(d establistled his crocksl and p~ans under thle romantic shade of those trees. A little streltm or river crept quietly along beside our gardenl, and found its way into tlhe sea over the sands, not five minutes' walk off. Tlhe murnur of the TIMediterraneau made music for us all day and lnighlt. I- silght rose thle walls and towers of Acre, witlh all its crusiading memories. Altog)etller it was a kind of " pleasant arbor'" in the " Hill Difficulty " of our nmaterial pilgrinmage, and the spirit of dreaminess and 350 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. s;lltuber came over us, so tlhat between that t1and a discussion as to our future route, we did not leave our gardetn until rather late in the next day, V'ednesday, July the 22d. In the afternoon we rode through the poor streets and bazaars of Acre, and then leavirg, it, along the nldulating sanld-hlleaps drifted in by thle sea to El-Bussah. Thle views on this reach of thle Mediterranean were -very fine. A noble amphitheatre enclosed the plain of Acre, fiom Carmel to the range south of Tyre, an are of which the blue sea was a chord. At El-Bussah we found an abundant pure spring, rising pure and fresh, as many springrs do along tle coast from this to Tyre, within a few yards of the sea. Cattle were being watered there; not sheep and goats, "' lesser cattle " Inerely. We did not el canmp near the spring, on account of the mosquitoes, but a little further inland, and hligher up, beneath the hills which form the great barrier b)etween the HIoly Land and the shores of Tvre amid Sidon, dividing thle maritime plain of the south from that of the north. Galilee. 351 No sandy beach lies between the sea and this promnontory, as at Carlmnel. To cross from the land of Israel to that of the Plhnlceicians, you must scale the cliff by the rugged path called the Tyrian ladder. We uscd the little lilght left in wandering about the rocky shlore, so different froln the smooth sands which all along thle ancient PIhilistine coast border the almost tideless Mlcditerranean. Here on each side of the strip of sand through which the fresh water3 of our spring found their way into the sea, stretched a rugged platforim of rocks, broken by little salt-water pools, retminding us of those on tlie coast of Cornwall. Some of our party found shells on the rocks. This is the cominencement of the bold high promontory whichi forms tChe boundary of Palestine. The next day (ThIursday, July the 23d), was a clay of adventures, of some danger and grteat fittiguo; but we cannot regret it, as it gave 1us a far more extensive acquaintance with the hills and valleys of Galilee, than we should have gained by the ordinary routeo 352 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Biy a misunderstanding, our par ty was broken into three divisions, one of ns wandering off alone, the muleteers, guides, and dragoman taking the ordinary route, whilst four of us, includin( a German servant, whose stock of Arabic was only a few words richer thlan our own, set off together expecting to be soon rejoined by the dragornan wvllo had gone in search of oul lost companion. The original goal of the day's marclt had been Banias, but tile unnleteers positively pr'onolunced this unattainalble; and tle point /iaiily fixed on to be reaclled was Bint-y-Jebail (tthe daughter of the mountains), a vilvage deep among the wild hills of Galilee. Tile name of this village, and its direction by the compass, was all we had to direct ns, except that we wished to see, on our way, the ruined castle of Tirschilha, which we had been particularly desired at Jerusalemn not to We first ascended a blill on tile right of thl plain by El-Bussabh, firom vwhich we hadcl a beautifnl view of the plain of Acre, bounded Galilee. 353 on the south by Carmnel stretching its hilly range far into the sea. On this hill we found a village. It was very silent; it seemed as if the inhabitants had deserted it to work in the fields. But two mnen appealed in answer to our call, and of them we asked the way to Tirsclhliha. They pointed across tile plain to the opposite hills, but as they spoke they drew so suspiciously near, laying hold of our bridles and looking so dangerons that we were glad to break firom themi and descend the hill as rapidly as we could. We had been told that the villagers among these Galilean hills are often very unfriendly and thievish, indeed, little better than bandits, to defenceless travellers, and we had no arms amongst us. On reaching the plain we rode fast over it, and made a most (lifficult cross-country ascent of the hills on the other side, over rocks and thrionulh thickets of prickly bushes, only guided by cattle tracks, and often losing even these. Once in a glade of the forest we caught sight of a herdsman 12 394 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. with a drove of cattle, and called to him to show us the Nway. But tlAe more Awe ca led him he wlulidn't coime. ioe pirobalbly mistook us fir Bedouins or Baslhi 3Bazoulnks, and prudently macde all haste out of our reach, hiding himself among the brushwood. With this exception we saw or heard no hluman being for hours, and after wandering from sunrise till noon over this ridge of wvooded hill, we found ourselves oin the edge of a darlr, nlarrow ravine. Friom thle bottom of this ravine, fr, far below, came. to us the sound of a stream eddyi-ng and falling,among stones, like a Devonshire river. It was like tlhe voice of a friend; and after dcebating some minutes wwhetrher we selould attempt to skirt the valley or cross it, we could not resist the voice of the river, but dismounted firom oulr lorses, and thlrowinrg the bridles over their necks, began. the perilously steep and rugged descent gouided partly by a tlcrack made prlobably by wild cattle, to the stream. We reached the bor Galileeo 3's55 delr of tle river in safety, and resolved to make our midday halt there. For llalf an hour after we gave ourselves up to rest. 3More we dared inot allow ourselves, not knowing how many hours of difilcult riding mighlt be bel'ore us in this wild country. We took the cold chicken and Arab broead out of Willhelm's saddlebags, and drank of the pure, cold stream. For our poor horses there was nothing but sucl herbage or leaves as they could crop frola the rocks and bushes; but the powers of endurance of these little Syrian horses are wonderfll l. The scene around us was quite different fionm any of our previous experiences of thle T1oly Land. We could have imagined our-, selves in any wooded mountain district in Edirope. The ravine was very deep and narrow, and its sides were clothed with tangled wood. At our feet tile cold, pure' stream or river tumbled over roc~ks, or eCd died in pools withll sandy bottoms. Close beside it opposite us rose the ruins of a 356 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas, Gotlhic clurch, with arched doors anid windows, a relic, no doubt, of crusading timles. Crowning the opposite heig'ht far above us rose the ruins of a massive ancient castle. But what this church and castle are ccalled, to this day we know not. It was enough to give interest to that day's wanderings that we were among the hills of Galilee. After our brief rest our next anxiety was to find a path out of the ravine on the opposite side. When our German servanit believed lie had discovered one, we followed lhim across the river, dismounting on the other side to lead our horses through the prickly thickets, under the branches of the trees, which grew too low to admit of our riding under theim. But thle path became more and more impracticable, and at last disappeared altogether, blocked up by masses of rock. Two of us went forward, leavilg the four hiorses in charge of the rest, and scramllbled with muclh difficulty up the precip)itous rocks, to see if we could any-here descry a practicable path. 3y climb Galilee. 357 ing over rocks, rubbislh, and ruins, we reached tlhe foot of the castle, and there found again traces of the path the fallen rocks had blocked up. The frirghtened horses had to be dragged round by the same way, as no other appeared. One of them all but lost his balance on the precipitous rocks, and the others reared and struggled, but at length they were all brouglit safely through into the clearer space, and we remounted. Tile castle was very extensive and massive, with ruined walls fallen into the moats. It appeared to ns, from the brief investigation we hlad time to bestow, a for. tress of the Crusaders, reared on the gigantic fotundations of ancient'Phcenician or Hebrew builders. Anything more impressive to the imagination could hardly be seen than these solitary (and to us nameless) ruins of a castle and churell rising by this unknown river in the wild woods of Galilee, and yet leading the mind back so plainly to era beyond era of past human listory. It was strange to think of the strains of the To 358 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Deum and the old Church hymns rising firom that lowly church in the Galilean valley, and of the old Phenician fortress e~hoing back the praises of the Nazarene-tlle Galilean. We were thankful to get over this difficulty, which our entire ignorance of the country made really a danger, but this dfficulty surmounted left us still in great perplexity. Of the distance to Bint-y-Jebail we Lad no idea, and tlle compass, which with the map gave us our only knowledge of the direction in which it lay, was a very imperfect guide in a country seamed with precipitous ravines covered with tangled wood. Soon after leaving the castle our path was crossed by another. I believe prayer for protection and guidance was indeed answered that day, for the danger in that thinly peopled country, where the few villages were inhabited by people we could not safely trust, was not small. Our great anxiety was lest darkness should overtake us in this wvilderness, although it would have been safei Galilee, 359 to bivouac in thie ftorest than to seek the shelter of an unknowla villa(g(e. Me, lti re,3 tlhe scenery Twas the finest we h;ad seen in P'alestine; ranges of lofty wooded hills, folding over eacll other, distance beyond distance, as far as the eye could reach frolm the ]eights; not sprlinkled witlh trees in parklike groiups like Tabor, but thicklly clotlled with forest, tangled ill -many places with an unldergro wvth of luxuriant brushwood; deep wild ravines, and beautiful woodland paths t.l'ro0eih orests of evergreen oak and other trees, sweet clemnatis and wild convolvulus garlanding the trees, and countless other wild flowers springing in every brake and glade. And this was Galilee. For miles after leavino the castle we did not meet or see one human being, nor evea any cattle, or trace of man. When we lost silght of' that watered valley, we scrambled over several highi ridges, and crossed another magnificent wooded ravine, with a dry watercolurse, and spanned by a bridge, near which was anu abandoned well. There was 36o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. something very weird and solemn in these traces of long-past human labor and life amongst these solitudes. At lengthl, however, we came in sight of something like cultivation, and then of an Arab village. Wilhelm asked the way. They said B3int-yJebail was five hours off. We inquired again of some people we met in the path, and received contrary information and directions. At the next village a very unfiriendly looking peasant, working in the fields, of whom. we asked directions, laid hold of one of our bridles, and wanted us to wait until some neighbors, to whonm lhe called, came lp, but we thought it imprpudent to encounter an assembly of the villagers, and galloped off from him as rapidly as we could across ploughed fields and throngh low stone walls like Dartmoor hedges, until we came to what seemed moree like a beaten track, where a peaceable looking man on a donkey met us and told us the way. Across more hills to another village. Here the men were away in the Galilee. 361 fields, but two or three women at a well were friendly, gave us water firom thleir pitchers, and said (as we understood) tllat Bint-y-Jebail was onllly an hour ofi: This revived our failing hopes, and we rode ofT again as rapidly as we could, up and dowll wooded hills and alongr valleys for nearly two hours, our agile but tired hlolses clambeoring over slabs of rock on tile steep hlill sides with wonderful perseverance. At, levgtlhFi we reached another village in a valley, whiclh, we trulsted, must be our destination, but to our dismay here we were told Bint-y-Jebail was three hours flnrthler on. The suln, by this time, was not an hour above thle horizon; in the valleys twiliglht -began already to creep over the forest, and a wolf had daringly crossed the road in front of us, at a distance of a few yards. One ot our party advocated waiting, and trying the hospitality of the villagers; but this was concluded too great a risk. Accordingly, by means of entreaties and a dollar, we pelsuaded a peasant to guide us across the hills 36z Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. to Bint-y-Jebail. It was a wild ride, and our horses stumbled in the darkness before we reachled the village; and when we reached it we looked in vain for our tents; but to our great joy a man met us at the large reservoir-into which our tiled horses pressed-at the entrance of the villageg and mentioned the name of our dragoman. Soon afterl the lost memiber nf our party Came to us, and welcomed us cordially. I-e had been robbed bv two men on his solitary ride, and Ihad just induced the Bey of the village to send sonle soldiers in search of us. Our mules had rolled in a river, soakinrg our bedlding so tlhatt it could not be used that night, and losing our wine. But suech minor difficulties were only matters of amusement after our day of toils and perils. Thle Bey very Courteously sent us a dinner firom his own table, bo':ne on trays on the theads of Ihis servanGts, wT11 waited on us in oulr tents, standing behind us, and manTing extenlmpor spoons of the flat Arab bread, for us to dip in the dish, instead of ci vilized forks, Galilee. 363 We had been in the saddle for thirteen nours. Tlhe alternate baying of shepherds' dors and lhowlilng of wolves near our tents, could not prevent us sleeping soundly that night on our bare camp beds, wrap)ped np in shawls. The excitement of the day, however, did not wear off imnmediately, alnd it was some time before thle pictures of Galilean scenery, rocky hills, wild wooded ravines, and shady forest paths festooned with fraglrant flowers whllich that day's fatigues had so imiprinted on our minds, faded into drearns. We could not regret the mistake which had led us fiom the beaten track so far into the heart of Galilee. xv. Tyre. VR10II DBint-Jebail we turn ed again toward the sea coast. We were gradually leaving the'Ioly Land, yet the sacred chain of DBible memories seemed still to sweep forth into the secular history of Plhllcnicia, as the spurs of the Lebanon branch out into tihe strip of'fertile lowland edged with golden sands which formrs the Tyrian territory. On Friday, July the 4th, after our day of thirteen hours of bewilderment and fatigue, we rested until nearly noon. Our road for many miles lay over a richl and picturesqlue lnountuin. district, among evergreen trees an1d coppice, througli green forest glades fickerhing with the July sunlight, which fell in burning flakes through the full dark foli(ccclxiv) Tyre. 365 age wavino in the mountain breeze. The wild flowers were lovely, hiding like their shy English sisters amongst thick leaves ill thle shade, or glowi-ng in ma.sses of bright color, or festoonin tile trees; fira ralnt clema-l tis, brilliant poppies, sweet familiar brier roses, delicate aristocratic cyclalmens, and counUtless others that we could not stop to examine, and probably could not have namIled if we had~ It was a delightful, shady, varied, woodland ride, and in an houl or two we aliglltedl for ouir midday meal in a pleasalt dell shaded Awith thielc trees and green with grass and ]erbagCe. Near us was a well, which snpplied us and our horses with good cool wTater -and altogetller, after the perplexities and toils of yesterday, we felt in luxurious ease. AWe lhad ample experience of the different effects of tile same scenery, the same beanuty, tile samle fatigues, whlen we know the port to w-lich vwe are boundl and whllen we do not. In our heavenly pilgrimage we are not surely intended to experiene any such weaken 366 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. ing and perplexinc doubts. Our warfare is not " uncertainly," not as one that "; beateth the air." We know the enemy, thle promised aid, the glorious end. Our pilgrimage. slould be made' not uncertainly."' We know tile Guide, and he knows thle way and tlie better country to which le is leading ns. After our rest we rode for some time alongc a road (or a dry water course,) low in the vallley, and piled withi many layers of stories. iOn the brow of a hill above the coasts of Ty1re, Ae passed wvhat is called "; the Tomib of Iira7," a massive, simple, square structure, consisting of a large plain stone sarcopllagus, supported on a few gigantic hlewn stones. This one name which links the history of Tyre in friiendly and not corrul)ting association with that of Israel, made an interesting lilnk between the land of promise wve were leaving and the land of commercial greatness we were entering. We encamped on the sandy hill outside the walls of modlrn Tyre. MWolfish-looklin dogs, which belonged to no one, prowled Tyre. 367 about us, as usual,'" outside "7 the "6 city." We kept one in pay by giving him the bones fronm our dinner table, and he was at once, [by the process adopted I believe in Greece,] transformed from a baindit to a police agent, conscientiously keeping off all hlis brethren from any share in his spoils. Is it the influence of Christianity extending its law of kindness to the lower animals, or something in the nature of nortlern dogs and northern men, which nakes dogs among us Angolo-Saxons, and all the associa tions connected with them, so entirely different from what they are in the East Imagine the effigy of an Oriental saint reposing wTithl its feet on a dog, lilke that of William the Silent, the heroic Prince of Orange, on the faithful spaniel which rescued his life in the nigllt attack of the Spanish troops, and like so many a sculptured knight of mnedimval times! The very presence of suchl an image would, in Oriental eyes, be the greatest desecration an enemy could inflict on a sacred edifice. And in the 1Bible how exceedingly 368 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. contemptuous, and how inapplicable to civilizecd English dogs are the terms employed in describing canine habits: "Thley grin like a dog, and go about tile city, and grudge if thley be not satisfied "-" Outside are dogs." Wla1at possible resenmblance is thlere between such a description and the grave dignity of a Newfbundland-the sagacious, acute expression of a terrier-the wistful, almost human eyes of our house spaniels? In t here at Tyre, as in most Eastern towns, the familiar words camne to us with all their true and forcible meaning. The wolfish, hiungry, masterless dogs which " go about the cities," [of Alexandria, for instance] gathering in packs like jackals, prowling about for offal, and grIudging if they be not satisfied, or the famislhed outcasts, like our dogs at Tyre, prowling outside the city-to these we may indeed apply the highly unfavorable definitions of Scripture; which every Englishman and Englishwoman must indignantly disclaim on behalf of the loyal, faithful, patient creatures who watch beside our homres like sentinels, Tyre. 369 and guard our flocks like shepherds, and welcome us with ecstatic joy when we come blome again, and sometimes will even die ratlher than desert a master's grave. The next day, Saturday, July the 5th, we went with an intelligent guide around Tyre. Our encamnpmlent on the sand hill was, we were told, nearly on the site of the earlier city, the Tyre which was " ancient Tyre" to the early Greeks. TAat Tyre has literally disappeared, and the dogs prowl, as I have said, on the " outside " sandy wastes, where once the queenly city stood It was new (or island) Tyre, which Alexander converted into a peninsula by a causeway connecting it, which we explored that morning. This is a poor Turkish town, enlivened by a little faint commerce carried on in an easy Oriental way, in tobacco fi'om the neighboring hills and in hard lava millstones transported from the volcanic districts of the IJ:auran to Tyre, as the sea-port for LEgypt WAe saw the ruinous cathedral, an edifice of the middle ages, with a spiral staircase 370 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. anld near it, inc:lined or prostrate, some fine columns of an earlier cdate witlh broken slhafts and carved capitals. We afterwavrds took a boat, and sklirted the bay friom one tower of the foItifications to another on the opposite point of the island or peninsula. The most interesting ruins lay either close beside or beneath the waves. We passed a pier built of alncient columns, inserted at all anglesupright, reversed, leaning in various directions, hlalf covered by the sea, or entirely exposed. We also noticed two ruined towers, with hno'e Phcenician-loohing founidationstontes, which remindied s of those in the wall of the Temple enclosure at Jerusalem. But beneatl the sea were the most imlpressive ruilns of all. We looled far dlown throughl the clear, still iwater, and saw large gr anite columns ].illng there. Sea iweeds and zooplbytes Iad been clothing theni for centuIries, for mlille -nniurms, nHot knowing them fi-om rocL;s. An-d to tus their age seems more to be measured by geologic than by human dates. Tyre. 371 After our ramble and boating expedition around the city, we rested and drank lemlonaclde, iced with snow friom I-Hermon! The associations of the place were bewildering, in the extent of time they covered, and the variety of race, religion, and civilization to which they point. The pro)hlletic doom of the great commercial power, and also of the queenly maritime city, has indeed been fulfilled, whether we r-egard it as referring to the ancient continentat city, where now not a column stands nor a human being dwells, or to - the clever, active, mercantile race, the founders of Carthage, which has passed away for ever fiom these shores. The doom was not on the buildings, but on the builders, or only on the buildings for the builders' sake. And yet if we regard only the external, visible stone city, rather than the luxurious, sin-laden, extinct human city, what more striking fiufilnleilt of prophecy could we look for than that which meets our eyes here? The ancient Tyre is gone, literally razed from the face of 372 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. the earth it polluted by its cruel idolatries and degraded social life. The poor Turkish town which now stands in the place of island Tyre, is as little a continuation of the splendid city clothed with purple and scarlet, as the languid inhablitants-Syrian, Christian, or Metawali-are of that prosperous, energetic comrnmunity, whose merchants were princes, and whllose traffickers were the honorable of the earth. The existence of this poor town near the site of Phcenician Tyre seemed to us to int erfere as little with the fulilfilment of the Scriptural denunciations, as if a similar doom had been pronounced on London, and, centuries after every Englishman had been swept firom England, and. every vestige of church, exchange, or dwelling had disappeared from the banks of the Thames, a colony of apatheltic Hottentots were to build for themselves a village of half excavated, half-thatched kall:~-Ls on the wilds of Hampstead Heath. XVI. The Shores of Tyre and Sidon, THE LEBANON AND DAMASCUS. N Saturday, July 5th, we rode slowly along the Tyrian shore on our way across the Lebanon to Damascus. We were no longer, strictly speaking, in the loly Land; yet a little fragment of the Lifb whose history malkes Palestine the Holy Land to the Christian, had been passed in this neighborhood. The feet whose tread had consecrated Judea and Galilee, once trod these shores of Tyre and Sidon.'We were outside the borders of the land of Israel. The rocky barrier of the promontory which breaks the long line of sandy shore between Gaza and the " Tyrian ladder"' separated us from the land promised to 374 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Abraallla, annd nmeted out by Joshua to thlo children of Abraham. Twice, however, 1teo stream of Scripture history overflows tl:at barrier; in two of the most affecting narratives of the Old Testament and of the New. These Tyrian shores, with all their magnificent memories of commercial greatness, are endeared to us by the names of two afflictel women, succored by the same merciful hand, -the widow of Sarepta and the woman of Can.aan. The story of the widow of Sarepta has an especial interest for us as one of tile few facts selected by our Lord, from the earlier sacred histor'y, to illustrate bis own teaching. We have not only a divine history of the widow of Sarepta, but a divine commentary on it. " But I tell you of a truth, many widows were in Israel in the days of Elias, when the heaven was shult up three years and six months, when great famine was throughout all the land; but unto none of them was Elias sent, save unto Sarepta, a city of Sidon, unto a woman that was a widow." Tyre and Sidon. 375 ITow remllarkably the two narratives (of the Syrophceuician and the widow of Sarepta), display thle samne character in IIim wvhoss ~compassion they illustrate; in one throughI the instrumlentality of the prophet, in the other manifest in the person of tile Son. They are precious toi us as illustratingo the -unity of tihn moral theology of thie Old Testaml.ent and thile Nlew. Amidst all the terrors of the old dispensation of lawr ad judglcument, we treasure iup every indication which revenals th1e truth that in thle, thunders of Stinali, a, in tile dyi-:(, cries of Calvary tlle voice is the same, and the fuia on-tol of that voice is love;-love fencing off sill with barriers -of uncquenchable fire, —!ove dravwling hIome the sinller with accents of unquenclliable tenderness. The hleart that,was moved with compassion for the widow of I ain and would not have the little elilcldre! driven aways is tile same whllich provided, with such ninute care, that thle gleaners, " the stralngel, tHie ftllherless, and tile widow'" should havy the corners of thle field 376 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. and the forgotten sheaf left for theri. Iec who sent the prophet with the unfailing cruse to the widow of Sarepta, chastened hler into repelltance by the death of her son, and then melted her into adoring gratitude by raising him from the dead; —is lie not the same who, centuries afterwards, on the same shores, listened to the Canaanite in spite of the reinonstrances of his disciples, proved her faith by delay, and then crowned it with that royal promise, " Be it unto thee even uts thou wilt." On the shore, not far firom T yre, we passed a very fine ancient reservoir, and crossed several streams of fresh, sweet water, wlhose springs are not more than a mile fiom tile sea. They must have tended to make this coast populous. It was strange to think of the busy commercial life which once stirre: along these desolate shores, of the countless sails which must have speckled this blue sea, sails of ships laden with the raw muaterial of uncivilized Europe or Africa, or tlie wrought wares of the Plcenrician colonies,'with gold Tyre and Sidon. 377 and spices from the south and east, or the useful metals from our own English mines.'"Tarsllish was thy merchant by reason of the multitude of all kind of riches; with silver, iron), tin, and lead, they traded in thy firs."' Seamen and miners (or native proprietors, perhaps), camne hither fi'om aratezion and other places in Cornwall, with the produce of the tin stream works, the pits of whichl now remain on the moors of Cornwall and Devonshire! Probably, indeed, the trade was carried on chiefly by the Plihmnician colonists themselves, as ours is with New Zealand now, by our own ships and seamen; yet no doubt now and then an enterprising. native of some West of England fishing-village came with the Phlcenician crew, to help work the ship, and to gaze on the riches and splendor of that marvellous eastern world. For " thle sltips of Tarshish did sing of thee in thy markets." Often, perhaps along those shores, and from the walls of that grand old city resounrded the wild melody of some Celtic ballad, sung by Cornish seamen as they heaved the anchor or toiled at the oar. 378 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Along the very way we were going, mules had plodded from Damascus laden with wine-skins from the vineyards on the sunny slopes not then bared by Moslem law, atnd with white wool from the flocks of the Bedouins on the far reaches of the eastern desert. Whilst from the south, from the terraced hills and cultivated valleys of the desolate land amidst which we had beenwandering, had journeyed long rows of mzules and camels, carrying malrket-wheat, oliveoil, honey and balrn, the produce of Jewish olive giroves, and corn-fields, and breezy thyme covered hills. But as they pointed out to us some ruins on tlle slope of a hill on our riglht, and called them Surafend (that is, Sarepta), onur thoughts quitted all these busy highways of trade to follow thle solitary path of the pr'oplet fri'ot tlhe dried-up brook among the arid hills near Jericho, all through the parched and faminesmitten lancd, to this Sidonian city. How familiar ttle scene that, rose before our minds! Those Celtic miners and Placenichiun Tyre and Sidon. 379 colonists seem distant and half mnythical, like King Arthlmr alnd thle I-ounlld Table; but the widow of Sarepta, who lived!h-ere in tile same far-off,aes, is as a fr:iend of our eatrliest days. The vasted, stooping form, worn by grief and falnine, gatllering tlle few drly sticks on the parched ground by the city gate; the home from which she came, with its " loft' or upper chamber,5 its meal-barrele so nearly exhausted, and its oil-cruse so nearly etnpty-ancl tile one child, tile widow's only son;-how well we knewr the,. all! Among those ruins on that hill-top, looking over the Mediterranean, that stoly was lived which hlas become so typical of man's need and God's providence to all time. Thile barrel of imeal and thie cruse of oil never containing more than the day's provision, )yet always containing enoughll-llwhat ricller type does the Bible afford of God's supply of daily bread to his children?-" a daily rate for every day all the days of our life." And lhere, amnong those rained walls, thie actual, literal 380 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. cruse and barrel stood, and were daily rcplenished by Divine care. The precise scene of that other narrative wlhose locality is on these shores, is not told. There was a home-a heathen home-on this coast once, wllere lived a mlother and her young daughter. But between the mothler and the child, and between tlhat young maiden and peace and lheaven, had intruded anothler inmnate, desecrating all.' An unclean spirit " possessed the c}hild; and of the anguish, the degladation, the separation implied in those words how little can. we conceive! Thle most loathsome disease can but touch the body, but this impure anrid malignant spirit to-uched and soiled the maiden's soul. Then came the rumorl of the arrival of a mysterious Galilean in the land, whose power evil spirits aclinowledged —" for I-Te could Iot be hid." M~ighlty to heal and gracious to hielp in this world of lhopeless and lhelpless need, how, indeed, could lie be hidcl The Tyre and Sidon. 381 mother found him. And thle rapid dialogue seems to echo alolng these shores, a lesson to all ages of wlhat God means by delayino answero to prayer, and how infinitely more tender the Saviolu's heart is to the suppliant than that of any disciple. The cry of angnisll-h IHave mercy onI me, O Lord, thou son of David; my daugllter is grievously vexed with a devil!" But he answered Iher not a word. Strange silence on tie lips usually only silent on lhis own~ sorrows, and so ready to speak words of piardon and peace! -loow she mlnst have watched bis countenance! But whatever sh7e read there, the disciples read its expression wrono. " Send her awiay," they said; "she crieth after us." Us! How soon Pharisaism creeps into tile heart but just healed fr'om its ownl self-condlemnin~g sorrow. These disciples, so lately called from the publican's seat, or the broken fish-nets —-so lately crying,'~ Depart from nme, a sinfuil man, 0 LIord 1" — so soon to need faithful rebuke and tender 332 Wanderings over'Bible Lands and Scas. intelcessioII, anlld to prove ll tl depth Of Jvor:iveeless in tlle hleart they undeln.tood so little now. ilTapl-ily for herl; it was not " after t/zelz" she cried..Bat he answered ancd said (not to them, but to lher), " I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the hlouse of Israel."' The worids had little encouragement. The look and tone must have explained them, for she was not repelled b)y tlhlel. 6" She came and " (attempting no argument) simply "' worshipped him, saying, Lord, lhelp Ine "-the best argument a needy htuman creature can use. She cast herself; helpless and needy, on his grace.;"But he answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread, and cast it to dog's."' Dogs! What words from his lips She wNas of tle hutiman nature he had taken on himn never nore to lay it down-of that race lie had come to redeem; yet she made no rellonsltlnelce. She was not, in the Jelwisl souse, " a cllild;" she admitted it. She had no claim to the privileges of the household — Tyre and Sidon. 383 no claim but her nlisery and Htis mercy. Crumbs Inust fall fioro that plentiful table, and le would not refuse thllom even to tile l dogs.' Then was a cllange! Tlhe searclhing' test was over. No more hullmblinlg' epithets; but commendation to crown her through all time: " Owomauz, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt.9" There had been no limit to her humiliation and trust; there was no limit to his gifot. She w7ent back to her house and found hler child no longer roamning about litlher and thithller with the carelessness of insanity, or Ithe restlessness, of a lost spirit, but " laid onl the bed,"' peacefully resting, and able to meet her motllher's eyes with the conscious simile of recognitionl and love. What intercourse must have followved betwoeen thlem! Once moro, ]however, the veil is drawn; and those two lives, one fragment of which stands out in such vivid light for us, are again withdrawn into the darkiness. 384 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. Not thirty years afterwards, the apostle Paul "lancled at Tzyre," and, " finding discip:les, tarried there seven days." " And wlien thlose days were accomplishled, we depa,'ted and went our way; and they all brought us on our way, with wives and cllildren, till we were out of the city; and we kneeled down on the shore and prayed. And wllen we had taken our leave, one of anllothler, we took ship, anld they returned hlomlie again." They knelt together on these Tyrian sands, Jew and Gentile,-no more' dogs" and "cllildren," but one family, God's one householld. The disciples had learned much since that " Send her away." Were the Syropllcenician, an aged gray-!haired woman, and that restored daugllter am-nong that kneeling, weeping company? iWe cannot tell. It is enoulgh service for one wonman to render, to Iiand down with ler nmemnory from generation to generation, thlat one lesson of humility and trust, and of the unfailing answer to every faithful Tyre and Sidon. 385 prayer, " Be it unto thee even as thou wilt." This narrative of the Syrophmcnician was the last association of gospel story which was to illuminate our Syrian journey, although the Tyrian shores were not the last spot we saw consecrated by a visible manifestation of the Saviour. From the shore we wound up among the hills, crossing a river, which they told us was the Leontes, although there seemed some preplexity as to its connection with the Leontes, or Litany, which we meet again deeper in the heart of the mountains. We rode along a high rocky ledge of the hills, and then wound through a valley and by a high ridge to the village of Nebudiyeh, where we found our tents pitched in a harvest field. It must have been on that day or the next that we noticed two customs which brought the words of the Bible to our recollection. One was an old man gathering dry grass for the oven. Ile unconsciously tea5 uns this parable, "' Wherefore, if God so clothe the 386 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. grass of the field, which to-day is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall HEe not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" The other incident recalled the story of Siser8l. Weary and thirsty we reached a lonely farm among the mountains, and asled for a drink of water. The woman of the house (like so many mountaineers) was hospitable and friendly, and brought us some buttermilk instead of water. It was quite sour, but one of our party foundcl it as refreslling as Sisera did, although not brouglht to us lilke that butter, or buttermilkl of old, in a "lordly dish," but in a humble earthen bowl. We were told that in the hot weather the milk of the mornli-DOg cannot be kept for the day. In the evening, at Nebudiyeh, the brother of the governor caime in state to welcome our party. The next day, Sunday, was very grateful to us after our week's hard work. That Sunday among the mountains has left a recollection of deep peace and rest. The gen Tyre and Sidon. 387 tlemen of our party had necessarily to return tile visit of the governor's brother, but I was too glad of repose, andcl too little inclined for any more visits to hareerns, to accotnpany them. Tliere was time, therefore, for a long quiet rest with the Bible for a companion, whilst a cool breeze occasionelly stirred the folds of the tent. From time to time some of the peasant women peeped in to see their Frank sister, but usually they contented themselves with loo11ing orl fr'om a distance, seated in picteresque groups about the field. Now and thenl the pleasant sound of bells fell on the ear from strinlgs of camnels passing, laden with corn, to the villabge, or returning unladen. In thle afternoon we lhad a delightful walk up the hill behind our corn-field and sat reading the Bible in view of Mount iermnon. Our dinner after suniset was attended by a large concourse of nnbidden guests, besides the governor and his brother who sat at our table invited. The whlole male population of the village apparently collected to see us 388 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. dine, and seated themselves in a semi-circle onlside our tent, observiilg us in a grave Orient.al way; some of the older Inen smoking, and the women peeping round behind, wrapped in their white veils. It might hlave been embarrassing had the circle been less grave and reserved. The gentlemen had previously partaken of an Oriental repast at the governor's thouse, whlere they observed one custom which illustrates many of the Bible narratives of feasts. The repast was held in a room which any one seemed free to enter. A number of unbidden guests came in whlilst they were eating, composedly seated themselves quite close to their divans, and occasionally joined in the conversation. It brought to our minds ninny a feast in the house of Pharisee and publican, at which evidently many were present unbidden, yet unforbidden, and not regarded as intruders. On MIonday we.had a fatiguing mountain ride of ten hours, over indescribably hard Tyre and Sidon. 389 roads, to a village which our guide called IIa-aroni. We were rewarded by two inagnificent extensive mountain views; one firoml the sumnmit of the first ridge we crossed, over a deep valley and many hills, to IHernon; tlhe otlher from the summit of tie second ricdge, far into the depths of the Lebanon. In the early part of day we forded a stream bordered with a deep shub. bery of nluxuriant oleanders in full flower; and as we climbed the mountains we crossed many beautiful clear streams, gushing fiom the rocky sides of tile hills, and traced them, as they flowed down tile steep hill-sides, and through the valleys below, by the gardens of myrtle and oleander with which they bordered themselves. In some places our path lay throug11 h th1ick-ets of aromatic flowering m yrtle. We took our mid-day rest under the shade of a grove of fine old trees, by an abundant stream high on the mountains guilslilg from the rocks,-a river at its source, and cold as iced water. Afterwards we de. 390 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. scenlded into a most beaatiful garden of a vall-ey; the sides clothed with fine sweeping fir trees, aromatic in tlce sunshine; and the bottom watered by a large rocky streamn clear as crystal, flowing through a wilderness of oleanders and glossy-leaved rrmyrtles, all in full flo-wer. One largle cluster of oleanders stood grouped in a meadow, as if by the hallnd of' solne skilful landscape gardener. It wvas literally "a fountain of gardens,-a well of living waters,-and streams fronl Lebanon." Our journey then became less interesting, the vegetation more ordinary. It seemed a descent from a region of romance into the everyday world, to find the streams once more bordered with homely rushes instead of glowing oleanders, and to pass througll thickets of brambles cand briar-roses in place of the thickets of fragrant mnyrtle, intsead of the fir-tree to find the thorn, and instead of the mylrtle-tree the briar. From this little Eden like dell we clilnbed another mountain, and then rode along a broAd, common-place valley between low hills, with Lebanon. 391 a level outline, to a river we told was called tlhe Kasitnaya, close to which our tents were pitched for the night. We sat in a corn-field near onu encamnpment while our dinner was being prepared, watching the peasanlts making up the sheaves, until the golden evening sun-beams fade!l firom the corn-sheaves, ceased to light up the the shlepherds with their flocks crossing the ancient bridge or drinking of the river, and only lingered in a crimson glow on the snows of Hlerinon. At last even that died awayJ and the long back of the great, s:tcredl old mountain couched hleavy and dark acgainst the sky, whilst beneath us flowed the river, eddying round a little rusliy, reedy island below the bridge. The incidenits and scenery of the next day have not left quite so deep an impression on our memories as those of our first day on Lebanon. It was a fLtiguingli ride of more than eleven ho1rs, for the most part thlrough dreary arid hills. At mid-day we rested by an abundant sprinLr, whlere flocks wvere being 392 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. watered; and towards the evening, as we approached towards Khan Dimas, wve rode tllroiuglh two very fine deep, craggy ravines or cllasmls, which reminded me of the Saxon Switzerland. Otherwise the day was chiefly one of endurance, of toiling steadily on with much fatigue and heat, through a lifeless, arid country. On Wednesday the scenery was still more dreary, and the heat greater,-a long toil of many burning honrs up and down parched, verdnlreless, sandy, desert hills. And then suddenly, firom the brow of the last hill, burst on us, in indescribable contrast, the marvellous view of Dainascus. We had been enduring three days of most fatiguing travelling, and for six hours had been toiling over burnt-up, sandy bills, our eyes blinded by the glare, and almost fainting with the heat; not a blade of grass, or even a stunted green bush in sight; only thinly dotted here and there some leafless, stalky, dusty, sandy things, not to be called plants. And all at once, on reaching the Damascus. 393 brow of the hill, acres, miles, a sea of deep, dark green woods burst on our sighr,-the rilcest, coolest green irnaginable, conti-asted with countless airy minarets, wllite and delicate as carved ivory. it -was not the briglht green of grass, but the deep, rich, soft green of woods, into which the wearied sight cou'ld plunge and lose itself, as in a deep sea of living coolness, And amongst all this were three rivers, —rivers which would be called rivers in the North,-flowing, splashing, abounding rivers. The voice of one of them camne to our ears from the valley immedib ately below us. It is a forest of gardens -walntsg mnulberries, apples, oranges, lemons-every kind of tree that is pleasant to the eye and good for food. In comparison with tlings unseen I can think of nothing like it, except when some tremrnling, toil-worn, doubting, desponding Clhllistian, snch as C(Jowper, wakes up on tLhe brow of the last arid hill his tfaining feet will ever lhave to climb, and sees before hitm paradise, and hears, " To-day thou shalt be witl. MO.e) XV. Ba Damascus, Baalbec, AND THE COAST OF ASIA MINOR. DAMASCUS, Ir2ida#y, July 11. gOOMING from tile Holy Land to Damascus is like stepping straight out of the Bible into the Arabian Nichts. The heat is intense to-day, the thermometer 87 degrees ill the shade, and 130 degrees in the sun, but in our roonms we are quite cool. Our hotel is a palace built by a great man among the;ll Turlks one hundred and twenty years ago. The saloon in which I am writing is forty or fifty feet liigll, with an arched roof. Through the open door I look on a court containing a large tank filled wMith running water, and shaded by a fine orange tree. In another (cccxeiv) Damascus. 395 corner of the court is a tall oleander in full bloom. The court is paved with inlaid marbles, and so is the saloon. In the room where I am sitting is a fountain or batlh octagonal in form, and made of rich marbles inlaid with mlother-of-pearl, into which water is constantly flowing from two spouts —water not cool merely, but cold. On each of the three sides of this marble hall a high step leads into an arched alcove, the walls and arches of which are exquisitely painted in frescoes of Mloorish design. One of these alcoves, the one opposite the door, has a divan, and niches with carved marble sl-abs, and cupboards with doors of richly carved and gilded wood. In this I amr sitting. The other two alcoves are equally decorated, and curtailned off with muslin drapery-they contain French beds. The charm of Damascus is the abundant fresh, cold water in contrast with the intense heat. flow such streams can spring out of the dry burnt up hills wllere they rise seemis a mystery. Three fresh, cold, abuncdant riv 396 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. ers flow through the city. Water meets you everywhere in everyr formn; in streams by thel roadside; in. conduits a-d drinking basins in the streets; in tanks, and baths, and flowing fonntains in the houses. No wonder Naamian thought his rivers of Damlascus better than all the waters of Israel! On Friday we visited the bazaars anld several palaces on the same model as our hotel, some of thlem very magnificent, with mosaics and fiescoes of colors most exquisitely blended. The mosques we were not allowed to ellter. It struck us that we had nowvlere encountered such fierce and fanatical scowls from the Mi[oslems as here. On Saturday we rode to thle junction of the Baraclas and Banias-two of thle rivers of'Damlascus-and visited some Ronman rnffils. The magnificence of the houses is all internal. Within, many of the palaces are the perfection of oriental be:-tulty and luxuryo Outside, they present nothincg but dul'l windowless walls, often eased with mud, with only one narrow dark entrance. Damascus. 397 On Sunday we had the REnclish service in the saloon. On Mondlay, July 14th, at half-past six, we left Damascus on our way across the Cmblo Syrian plain and Lebanon to Beyrout. Tle scenlery through which we rode on thatw and the following day was very varied and fine. At first we wound in and out among the hills by the side of the Baradas, one of the rivers of Damaseus, an abounding vigorous mountain river, like our Devonshire rivers, but as abundant in this burning Syrian July as these are after the continuance of rail. It was a most delicious siglht and sound. The road, as it wound up the hillside, was continually returning to the banks of the river as it foamed and dcashled along in a series of cascades and rapids, now and then plunging over a precipice into a deep, dark pi(ol below. By its side was a strip of the deepest green vegeetation —poplars rlising amonmg rich groves of various trees, or fromn meadows green as alpine monntain pastures Iust ia-un veiled from their winter snows. Above, in 398 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas stern contrast, rose the unwatereci hills, brown, bare, and lifeless. Our midday rest was under a tree by another stream, where we bought goat's milk from a friendly herd boy who was watering his flocks. In the evening, after turning aside to see a fine water fall, we encamped at Zebdani in a beautiful rich, broad valley, dotted with many flourishing villages. On the height above us was perched the village of Bleudan. Our tents were pitheled on a green meadow, watered by two or three springs of cold pure water. On Tuesday our path lay again by streams and fountains, until, crossing the watershed of the Anti-Libanus, we came to another river flowing in an opposite direction, towards the Miediterranean, a pleasant sight for us westward-bound travellers. When we left this river, we and our guide lost our way among the hills, until, after walndering many weary hours, (we scarcely knew in what direction,) quite by surprise, across a reach of the Coele Syrian plain, burst on our sight six Baalbec. 399 enormous columns on a lofty pedestal of ruined mtasonry, the six characteristic col umns of Baalbec. WXe entered the village, and were allowed to encamp within the ruins. Palestine is nota land of ruins, but of ruIinoUs heaps; and the extent of tllese magnificent remains, with their perfect preservation in parts, amazed us. Ill the Holy Land the most interesting and sacred places are scarcely marked by a few poor scattered stones; and here were ruined temlples and dwellings Wvorthy of the metropolis of an empire or the sanctuary of a religion. B3ut the, story was lacking! With'all this grandeur no hmnan associations are linked-no great name of man or nation is bound up vwith the e wvonderfil walls. What the eye saw was grand beyond anything we had seen,-but what the eye saw was all. It is iuseless to describe what drawing and description have mnade so familiar to us, and yet what neither drawing nor description can give any adequate idea of. It seemed to us more like a 4oo Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. city of temples than one temple; and very solemn it was to sit still and see the gigantic shadows of the one almost perfect temple, and of the six grand columns remaining of another thrown across the great moonlit spaces of the courts, broken only here and there by enormous sculptured blocks, the renains of capital and fallen shaft. On the next morning (Wednesday) we walked round tile rnins, inside and outside, wonldering at tle size of the stones, and admiring tile beauty of thle proportions, and especially thle broken doorway of the most perfect temple. The enormous mass of masolllry oil which these temples stand rises more like a hill tlhan a building from the great Ccole-Syrian plain; and the vaults whicl lead tlhrough it look more like tunnels excavated througlh a mountain than blocks laboriously piled, as they must have been, one oCn another by hIuman hands. We imeasureed some stoiles fifty feet long. We lingered sonne time longer in the courts of tile temple and lp)articullarly by that broken poreb, with Baalbec. 401 its deeply sculptured roof, and the staircase beside it winding up through tile wall. Tlhere was so muclh delicate work, sucll an extent and number of buildings to examine, that we found it difficult to leave; and yet before nicghtfall we must reach tlhose thills whose outline lay so blue and faint against tihe sky, across the great plain. We started a little after mid-day, and reached the mountains by sunset, after a ride of five hours, much of it at a gallop across tlhe level. On our way we passed tle quarry out of which Baalbec was hewn, and observed one gigantic block like that we lbad measured in the temple. AVliy was it, we, asked ourselves, that this friagment of unfiniished work impressed us more, and seemed to bring the past nearer than all the marvellous finished structures we had been surveying in the morning? Was it not because in such interrupted work you seem to read the past, not in the per~fect but the present tense; in the active, not in the passive voice; not in its stately monnmental repose, but il 40o Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. its actual everyday toil? Iow was tlat, block brought so far? Vhly was it brouglht no furthler? What silenced that noisv workplace and scattered the worklmen? That one stone in thle quarry of Paalbee seemed to bring s Imore into the presence of the living mnen of its past generations, and stir OiE:' minds wit;h more speculation as to their history than all its magnificent temples. After this I remember no incident for tihe day, but only a swift galloping or a steady toiling across the burning plain, and noticingfrom time to time the lizards creep in ainrtd out under the shadow of thle stonles, broTI 1wn:ts their hidin(g-places, taking literally (as we all do more or less, figuratively), the color of their homnes. We encamped for the night by a streaml near the Christian (AMarlonlte) village of Zabbi. It was strangely fam:iliar to hear, once morl tle sound of a church belly f1romll tlhe village chuirch. Our ride on Thursday, July the 2'lth, was tlhrough very fine mnountain scenery, and Asia Minor. 403 along most perilous road:, or! ratlher no roads. The patlis seemed to us steeper, mllre slippery, and rougher than any we lhad yet tlaversed. Besides tle fact of no road ever being mnscde or repaired, coimmon to all Syria, tie mountaineers of Lebanon Ilave a perplexing custom of thirowing all the large stonles which they clear out of their vineyards on the pathway outside. We hlad becoime habituated to reglarding the dry beds of torrents in the light of high roads; but on this part of the Lebanon, in several pl~aces, our p)aths lay along actual flowing, torrents, and up and down cascades. I-Iow tile horses ascended and descended safely over those slabs of rock, polished and actually covered by flowing water, is beyond explanation. But, if you trust them, tlhese little Syrian horses will scramble successfully over anythling; the only danger is, lest in a nervous apprelhension you attemrpt to guide them, and so chleck the freedom of their movenmenits, on wrhich -our safety depends. It is a greater wonder, still, how the heavily laden 404 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. pack mules accomplish the journey; for this is the trading hidghway between Damnascus and Beyrout, and yet, we were told, accidents are very rare. Our rest in the hotel at ICeyrout was very welcome to us, but we could not part without regret from the little patient horses which had carried us so bravely through many a toilsome mile. One consideration, however, helped to reconcile us. We were glad to have the prospect of travelling by means of machines, steamboats and trains, which the reckless carelessness and lazy indiffelence of Syrian inuleteers could not hurt or distress. All our horses had sores, from tihe rubbing of saddles or packs when we started, which a little care soon healed; but one mare-a willing, faitlhful creaturedied at Damascus, in consequence of bad shoeing and the over-driving of the obstinlate fink;ris. I shall never forglet the mute appealinig look of that poor brown mare, as tllev drove her with lier wounrded feet over the stones towards me; nor how forcibly it Asia Minor. 405 brought to my heart the words, " Tile whole creation groaneth. and travaileth in pain togetlier until now, w.aiting tbr tile adoptionl, to wit the rcledenption of the body." We had rooms in the " Hotel de Belle. vue,'" outside Beyrout, the provisional miaster of which, at the tille, (under its widowed mistress) was D mitri K alas, forlnerly dclagoiman to the author of' Eothan."' Friday and Saturday were spent in rest, kef, bathing, and sketclhing. From tle broad roofed corridor of the hotel, at eacll end, we had most exquisite views; at one end, of the sea and hills; at thle otlher of the beautiful blue expanse of the Ilarbor of Beyrout, with the flat-roofed white hlouses 1clieved against'the great mass of the Lebanon, which rose behind them in a grand sweep, finom the sea to the clonds and tlhe eternal snow. Below us were two cottages, lalf Ihidden among orchards and gardens, with open wooden )alconies. They were inhabited, the Amierican consul told us, by two widows, a 406 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. mother-in-law, and a daughter-in-law, botlh bereaved not long before by the cholera, and inl great poverty, which it was a pleasure to all in the hotel to contribute a little to roelieve. The consul told us hlow terrible it was, during the time of the cholera, to hear from that corridor the dreadful hopeless death- wails bursting from house after house. W( haad to wait some days in the hotel for the French steamler. The views firom ourl corridor during that time, of the sunsets over thle lMediterranean, have left a deep impression on our minds. The after-glow, wllen the sun had set, was so beautiful; and then we seemed to see Niglhit like a visible Presence slowly advancing and spreading her Nwings over the water. On Tuesday, July 22d, we embarked in tlhe Frencll steamer, for our coasting voyage by Asia AMinor to Constantinople. We were not allowed to land anywhere until we came to Rhodes, on account of tlhe fever tlien prevailing on the coast. But we Asia Minor. 407 had ampile opportunities for observing the coast during the many hours tile vessel lay off the various ports. Those little wllite towns onr tle narrow levels near the sea, at the base of thle great mountain ranges, are thle natural homles of fever, in such a climate. On'Wednlesday, we lay some houlrs off Latakia, of tobacco celebrity, and Tripoli, the last pllace the Crulsaders held on tlhe Asiatic shiores, which looked very picturesque with its white houses, and ruined towers, relievred against a backglrounid of wooded mountains. On Friday, we spent sonie hours in sightl of Alersina. olnce tlhe port of Talsus. Beyond that raange of volcanic conical hills, with truncated summl.its, cleft by ruigged elasins, and broken into fantastic crags, lay the homne of our own apostle, the Apostle of the Gentiles. Throug'hl that ravine iwhich cleft the mnountainis, jnst bellind the town of M'ersina, heo had doubtless journeyed again and again. And by these shores h1ad coasted, with lhis 408 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. heart full of the infant Churclhes hle hlad founded in the sea port towns, or among, tle mountains. ML~uch of the coast, especially near Cape KIhelidoni, struck us as extremely fine in outline; the forms of the hills so bold and varied. At Rhodes, we landed and spent some hours in exploring the fortifications and thle city. It was interesting, after seeing thle final seat of the iKilights of St. John at Ml-alta, and the ruinous building opposite the Clhurcllh of the HIoly Sepulcllhre at Jerusalem which gave them their title of the KCnigllts -Iospitallers, to visit the fertile island whlere they reigned so proudly as the Knigllts of Rhodes. On the whole, the Turks are satisftctory keepers of ruins, when only the picturesque is regarded; because, if they have not energy to repair, neither hlave they enterprise to alter. Thus, in the streets of Rhodes you canl recall thle old inllhabitants with little effort of imagination. Their dwellings and Asia Minor. 409 fortifications are too stroungly built for tiine, in this pure, dry air, to have had much power over them. The city is full of relics of' the lkigi ts. The street architecture stroIigly resembles that of Malta. Projectilg balconies, roofed in with lattices, as at Valetta; beaLntiful carved monldings and coat:, of arms, cut in imperisliable stone, eacli line as sharp, and each edge as white and fl esh, as when the sculptor's clhisel left it foul' celturies ago. We went up tlie silent street of the knigllts, and into the houses of tile different "languages," still marked by tlleir characteristic armorial bearlings —-the fleur de lys, the lion, or the papal keys; and nfbrorbidden we rambled around the ancient fortifications, saw the cannons of the kniglits, left after the siege; the three moats, tlle three walls, tle drawbrlidges, — nedi-valI Clhristian word, all now in Mhoslem hIands. Tle arclhes and walls were very solid, and the mouldiings beautifully delicate. The favorite device seemed to be a tw-isted rope. We were permitted, without diffilculty, to 410 Wanderings over EiblN Lands and Seas. enter the old catheedral, 1owV tansfolrmed into a mosque by tlhe simple process of adding to the altar-steps,' so as to make thlemn front towards M'ecca, in a line diagonal to the walls, and covering' them witlh prayermats and Persian rugs. The fine granite columns are plastered over, and the Mohalnmnedan's abhorrence against idolatry has been appeased by mutilating or removing tile faces of the kniglitly effigies, which still lie headless on the wa!ls. Tle Mohammedanism which is so fanatical and fierce in Damalnscus and otlher cities of the East, seems merely to lie like a dull, dead weight on Rhodes, shrouding it with that peculiar silence characteristic of Moslem cities; the silence of cities in which there are no homes and no churcll es,,and in which the wolmen creep alout in black or whlite veils, like shrouded ghlosts, afraid of daylight. The two iharbors are fine, but too sllallow for modern ships of war. Long after we had re-embarked, and had passed Rlhodes, the white towers of the old Christian fortifica Asia Minor. 41 1 tions gleamed across the deep blue of the sea. Early at break of day on the morning after leaving Rlodes. we were called on deck to see thle shores of Pattnos. The sun was Iising beliind the island, and strongly relieving against the golden sky, the long, bare, hard outline of its crags, crowned by the line of the monastery, in a cave beneath which (tradition says) St. John lived dnring his banishmenIt. It was most interesting to stand silently on the deck, and watch the sun rise behind the rocks on which the last vision of heavenly glory was vouchsafed to mortal eyes; wlhere the Ap)ocalypse was belleld, and the whole Book of Revelation solemnly closed. Several small islands, or isolated rocks, stand near Patmos, which looked very beanutiful in the morning light. These Greek islands were a fairy-land of beanty at sunrise and sullset, reminding me of that story of our chlildhood, of the child's journey into the fairy country, where one 4.1z Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. palace was of topaz, another of porphyry, anotller of ruby, another of gold or pearl. As we passed in and out among themn, one island rose behind another from the deep bl ne sea with the most exquisite variety of tints and forms; the warm glow of sunset onl soime of the peaks, and on othlers tlhe loveliest delicate greys, fading into pearl in the distance. All lines were there,-glowing, blilshinrg, golden violet, opal, grey; and all varieties of beautiful ontlines,-soft, curved, bold, angular,-blended as in tile curves and angles of Greek carvingo; wlhilst between theml glided in and out the wlhite sails of the Greek fishing-boats, with tlleir picturesque curves, like tile spread wings of birds. We felt we were entering tile holme of thle race to whom it was given to interpret the beauty of God's world to other rmen. The sllores of these islands, when you come close to them, are for thle most part mere barren crags; but the forlms- and colors, especially at evenilng and morning, are most enchanting. It is as if the sea had inundated Asia Minor. 413 a malgnlific'ent monntain chain, thle peaks of which are convernted into is'ands, and its rich plains and valleys into a plain of blue leaving v aters. In the interior, they say, some of tlhese islands are fertile; but the war of the Greek revolution lhas depopulated them sadly; and nothing can ever revive under Turkl;ish rule. Scio has many green sI)ots on it, and houses are visible here and there from the sea; but, we were told, the Turkish massacres lbad reduced tile population from oiie lhundred and ten thousand to eiglht tlhousand. Oni July the 19thll or way lay still on and on among the Grleek islands, and by tlhe mountainous sliores of Asiat Mlinor, until we rounded a headland and found ourselves in tie Bay of Smyrna. As we approached tile bay the coasts of Asia became more green. Little villages aippeared nestling in the clefts of the rocks, tlheir white roofs contrastingr witlh the cypress groves in which they were embosomed, while beneath stretched green terraces and slopes. 414 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. The bay of Smyrna is very fine inl its deep. broad expanse, withi the varied outline of its mountsatin sherors lhere and there clotlie(l withl wood (which loolked luxuriant after the ecraggy Greek islands), and dotted with villages either level with the shlores among tile cypresses, or guarding the terraced vineyards on the hills. The town of Sinyrna at the head of thlle bay is very picturesque from the sea, with its large groves of fine cypresses breaking the white clusters of houses which climb the hill, crowned by the old Genoese castle. We were glad to land; and on Wednesday we rode on donkeys to the summit of the hIill where the Genoese castle commands the town and bay. Below us lay a fertile valley, watered by a river whose windings we could trace for many miles. It was twice crossed by tlhe archles of a ruined Roman a1 queduct. I-low characteristic the3 ruins left by the Greeks and Romans are! Tlhe exquisitely proportioned temple or the amnphitheatre of the Greek cities; the Asia Minor. 415 lIaUssiv(e aqleduet and bridgicle, or tile ihperisliable road of tlhe to1na1Is, hlow expressive they are of thle races wlhose several dominant ideas seem to have been beauty and powvoer. A memory fcr more distant in time, here came near to our hearts-To the Church, the living, believing Church of this city of Smyrna, the Divine Epistle was addressed, not from apostle or evangelist, but direct from Him who liveth, was dead, and behold he is alive for evermore. 6 And unto the ang'el of the Church of Smyrna write; These things saith the First and the Last, which was dead, and is alive; I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty (but thou art rich), and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan. Fear none of those things wlhich thou. shalt suffer: beIhold tLhe devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye sllall hlave tribulation ten days: be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." 416 Wanderings over Bible Lands and Seas. And here, in the next centlury, Polycarp was fait.lfiul unto deatll, and -l.as. receiveld, (altho1ugh, inldeed, nol here) the crown of' life. Smuyrna was the last place we visited, which is distinctly and definitely mentioned in the Bible. On account of the unsettled state of Greece at that time we did not lan1d at Athens or Corinth. But even in Slnyrna, Athens, and Corlinth the associations are interesting to us, not on account of their dissimilarity fromli our oicdinary life, but of thleir resemblance to it. We are enterin(g the region, not of visible divine manlifestations, but of Chulrch history, although of Churchl history written by divinlely inspired men. Here, therefore, the narrative of our AVWanderings over Bible Lands and Seas nay naturally end. hC E N D