SJSSi.^ v^''"'^ * %> A Cruise Under the Crescent. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/cruiseundercrescOOstodiala A CRUISE Under the Crescent FROM SUEZ TO SAN MARCO BY Charles Warren Stoddard, Author of "South Sea Idyls." etc. C Chicago and New York: RAND. McNALLY & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. Copyright, 1898, by Charles Warren Stoddard. 513*;'5( TO MY BELOVED SISTER. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. CHAPTER. PAGE. I — From Suez to San Marco, 5 II— At the Gateway of the East, 13 III — Going up to Jerusalem 30 IV — Impressions of Jerusalem, 54 V — In the Footsteps of our Lord, 80 VI— Damascus, " Pearl of the East," .... 189 VII— From Baalbek to Beirut 226 VIII — Glimpses of Asia Minor, 239 IX— Athens, 250 X— A Cruise in the Homeric Sea, 259 XI— Stamboul 279 XII— St. Sophia, 306 XIII— On the Bosporus 317 XIV— Prinkipo 327 XV— The Sultan goes to Mosque, 34i XVI— Out of the East, 35i A Cruise Under the Crescent FROM SUEZ TO SAN MARCO HE "flight into Egj'pt" having come to an end, we folded our wings for a few days only, and then spread them again, with our faces turned due north. Thank heaven, there were other worlds to conquer; there always are ; this is what makes life worth living. We booked for Ismailia via Zagazig, leaving Cairo by the morning express in a high wind that was cool and re- '^"^"^^ freshing. All the journey was a kind of rapid review of the Egyptian experi- ences. Every palm and mimosa, every Arab s A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. village, every Sheik's tomb, with its low white dome, and the strips of water where the sakias were slowly turning, and the shadoofs were swinging up and down, brought to mind remi- niscences of the last four months. It was delightful, in the same way that the remem- brance of something great and good accom- plished is a delight. Even the two hours' wait at the hot and dusty station of Zagazig, where we saw the train come in from Alexandria and set out for Suez, was less of a trial than it might have been had I not ever in my mind the thought that in a few hours more I should see my last of this glorious land of romantic and eventful history. We all refreshed ourselves -=_ at Zagazig, drawing our "'"' feet up under us on the deep divans, and partaking of the luncheon brought from Cairo. Three venerable Mus- sulmans were seated on the .^ divan opposite. A retinue of servants stood by and obeyed the slightest signal of their masters. Many fine-looking men arrived, kissed the hands of these gentlemen, made profound salams, and with a very few words withdrew, backing out of the room. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 7 After a time, one of the distinguished travel- ers sent a servant into the sun to find the way to Mecca, and, upon his return, a carpet was spread upon the floor, and the pompous old gentleman began his noon-day prayer in front of a heap of luggage that happened to be piled against the wall on the Mecca side of the apartment. Young Arabs sold matches on the platform of the station, wanted to "black your boots" in tolerable English, offered bread, fruit and soda-water for sale, and sought to make themselves useful by seizing upon every valise and carpet-sack within reach. Again we entered the train, and set out for Ismailia. We were very soon in the desert, the desert that at first was dotted with oases and then grew bare and yellow, rolling its long billows of sand to the horizon on every side. The heat was intense ; the glare of the sun intolerable. We all grew drowsy, and dropped off to sleep one after another. Once we stopped at a station, a single house in the solitude 8 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. of sand, where some few officers from the barracks over the ridge, mounted on splendid horses, stood by to watch our arrival and de- parture. There was a wine-room at this station, filled with curios such as publicans and sinners delight to gather — a motley collection, as interesting as it was unique. Through a door in the rear there was a garden walled in with a fence as high as the house. It was a surpris- ing contrast to the desolation that lay all about us, even to the high sand-drifts blown up against the fence. But you have only to water this desert and it blossoms like the rose. We reached Ismailia before sunset ; a thriving town on Lake Timsah, about half-way between Suez and Port Said. It is a garden that may yet become famous as the perennial paradise of Egypt. Its climate is much better than that of Cairo. The lake through which the canal flows aifords more agfreeable salt-water baths than can be found anywhere else on the coast. It is bountifully supplied with fresh water by the "sweet water canal," and the roofs of the cottages that rise above the dense and delicious foliage, the broad avenues, the baths, the blue lake and the desert hills, with their marvelous tints of gold and gray, make it a delight to the eye. It has already attracted a goodly number of health-seekers, and there is no reason why it should not ultimately become a fashionable A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 9 resort for those who would escape the bitter winters, and at the same time find diversion in the novelty of Oriental life. A long wharf juts into Lake Timsah at Ismailia. After wait- ing on the pleasure of a ticket-agent for more than an hour he leisurely arrived on a donkey and received us with the calm resignation peculiar to the Moslem. We boarded a steam launch, by no means large enough to accommo- date us, and then, packed in a close, stuffy cabin, or sitting together on the windy deck, we rushed through the canal at a headlong pace from sunset till one o'clock in the morn- ing, the most miserable community imaginable. The lake, through which we entered the canal, was soon crossed, and when we found ourselves skimming over the deep blue waters, with high sand banks on each side of us, we all looked about us with intense curiosity, for it was our first sight of one of the wonders of the modem world. As far as we could see, the canal was as straight as an arrow. The high banks, slop- ing to the water, along the edge of which grow a few hardy shrubs, seemed to draw together at the further end. The width at the water- line in the deep cuts is 190 feet, the depth 26 feet; the total length 100 miles. It grew monotonous in the course of half an hour — the interminable banks like gray walls away above our heads. There was nothing to eat lo A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. or drink, save what chanced to be remaining in our hampers. The cabin was too small to smoke in ; the wind on deck was whistling like a hurricane, and, therefore, we all subsided into a state of abject misery. At that moment, the important facts concerning the construc- tion of the canal — facts which I will not recall to your memory at this late day, were not of slight interest to us. The moon rose over the top of the embankment, and amused us for a little time with a new effect. But the canal is horribly gloomy at night. It is like sailing through a gap between the two hemispheres. By and by we raised a ship, a monster, that towered above our toy steamer and seemed to touch the stars with its tapering masts. That ship appeared to fill the canal, for the long high banks closed in beyond her. We saw the black hull and the gleam- ing lights; we heard the blustering orders that were howled out on board, resounding above the roar of the wind in the rigging. I wondered how we were to pass her, and why she did not caution us to keep out of the way. We did slacken our pace somewhat, and then stole under her huge shadow unnoticed. She thought no more of us than if we had been a water-bug. She was very busy t^lSt? K^ /f^ trying to keep herself in the A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. n middle of the canal as she slowly drifted toward Suez. Seven ships lay in our track that night — one of these a ship of the line — and all seven of them utterly ignored us, though we were the regular express boat from Ismailia to Port Said. We came to a house presently, a long, low, wooden house, painted white ; about half- way up the bank; wooden steps led up the slope to the veranda. There were vines creep- ing over the roof, and flowers growing in the garden and perfuming the night ; but beyond it and above it rose the everlasting bank, and we could see nothing to the right or the left but the dark, narrow, straight gap, with its deep waters ebbing noiselessly from sea to sea. Coffee awaited us at this station — coffee that tasted like lukewarm date-water, and for this we paid dearly. And here we learned that the Khedive had depreciated the currency of the country at the rate of two piastres (five cents) to every four franc piece ; other coins retain their customary value until the Khedive has need of further money, when he will probably levy a new tax, after his own fashion. At midnight, we entered the harbor of Port Said. The moon was brilliant, and the white sandy streets of the little city looked as if they were covered with a light fall of snow. Fortunately, there were beds to be had at the Hotel de France, though the town was flooded with 12 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem, who had congregated here to take the steamers that touch at this port two or three times a week. II. AT THE GATEWAY OF THE EAST, Pilgrim Ship! There she lay, off Port Said, in the mouth of the Suez Canal; a big Russian steamer, that came in from Alexandria at sun- rise, and was to sail for Jaffa at sunset, taking a great multitude of devotees along with her. Port Said lies just above high- water mark ; a flat, sandy settlement, that blisters in the sun, and withers in the sea- winds, and has every drop of its drinking water pumped over from Ismailia, fifty miles away. But, withal, it is a healthful spot, and a capital resort for sports- men, who find pelicans, flamingoes, herons, and multitudinous wild-fowl in the neighboring lake — that jewel strung upon the silver thread k 14 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. of the Canal. About the third hour in the afternoon, half the town seemed to be drifting to the water-side; the other half offered its services as porter — as if it were expected that no man in his right mind would stay on shore a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. When I boarded the steamer, her deck was swarming with Orientals, and the spectacle was positively bewildering; strange races, gathered from strange lands, reclined upon thick rugs among cushions that fitted every angle of their bodies, while they smoked the perpetual nargileh. They talked, smoked, and sang a good part of the night in the full flood of the moon, with the swish of the water under our keel for a running accompaniment. The potent odor of garlic that graced the frequent repast was lost in the more potent effluvia of burning hasheesh ; but there were other smells not to be forgotten, and scarcely to be for- given, such as are the bane of all sea-travel on that much betraveled coast. It was after mid-Lent, when half the world goes to Jerusalem for Holy Week and Easter ; so that we were in very truth pilgrims and strangers. Many a poor fellow who climbed over the ship's side while we lay in the mouth of the Canal found he had arrived too late by an hour or two, and now his bed must needs be made in whatever obscure comer might A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 15 Still be left unoccupied; he was exposed to drafts and the spray that sifted over us from time to time, and all the night his sleep was disturbed by the passage of officers and crew, who stepped or stumbled over him at brief intervals. Some of the wise old pilgrims were on board almost as soon as the ship came to anchor at Port Said; having chosen the best possible quarters for themselves, they spread their car- pets and cushions, and literally went to house- keeping, meanwhile observing the despair of the late comers with the placid philosophy of the Oriental. Their pipes were lighted, their coffee brought them by their faithful slaves; they seemed to lack nothing, yet they were deck passengers, who paid less than a third of the passage money that brought us to the brink of despair in the close and overcrowded cabin. Fortunately, the sun that set on us at Port Said rose on us at Jaffa ; and, though our ship was overladen, and positively top-heavy, so that at times she careened fearfully, the sea was as glass ; the full moon made night glorious, and we held our course right bravely; it seemed almost as if Providence had a special smile for the thousands who were on their way to Jerusalem that memorable night. It was a memorable night. I woke about two in the morning, after one of those incoher- 1 6 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. ent dreams that are apt to precede an event. The hour was wonderful, the air delicious but moist, as the sea-air always is. The full moon flooded the deep; a broad wake of glittering silver rolled in the midst of the violet-tinted waves. Every soul slept, or seemed to be sleep- ing, wrapped in blankets like mummies, and stowed side by side. Even the few watchers on deck stood motionless as statues. Egypt lay all behind me ; the overpowering splendor of the Nile recurred to me as a gorgeous dream from which I had scarcely yet awakened. I began to realize that on the morrow, God will- ing, we should all set foot on sacred soil at Jaffa — the antique Joppa, said by Pliny to have been standing before the flood; — Jaffa, on whose rock-bound shore Andromeda was chained when Perseus flew to rescue her. St. Jerome says: "I saw the re- mains of the chains wherewith Andromeda was bound to the rock until delivered by Perseus from the sea-monster." Through the Roman period, and down to the close of the 1 6th century, these chains were treasured and exhibited in Jaffa. I dozed again ; by and by an unusual commotion in the ship awakened me, and, looking out A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 17 through my small dim sidelight, I saw the saffron-tinted East, with its luminous sea and sky divided by a line of shadowy hills ; shadowy indeed they were and empurpled, touched here and there with the faintest radiance — the promises of dawn; then my heart cried out: "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings!" In the midst of that joyous cry the sun rose and filled the world with light — it was my first glimpse of the Holy Land. Jaffa ! Abb6 Geramb declares that Jaffa — or Joppa, if you prefer it — was so called from Japheth, the son of Noah, who came down from Ararat in the track of the subsiding flood, and founded a city that is to-day one of the most interesting and best-abused in the world. I wonder why so many travelers feel justified in snubbing Jaffa? The traffic of half a hemisphere drifts to this little port, and is borne from ship to shore in the arms of Stalwart Arabs. And what a history it has ! It was to Jaffa that Hiram, King of Tyre, sent the cedars of Lebanon, "in floats, ' ' for the building of Solo- mon's Temple. Here Jonah, when he "rose up to flee from the presence of the Lord, .... i8 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. found a ship going to Tarshish ; so he paid the fare thereof, and went down into it, ' ' while the sea-monster lay in wait for him upon the verge of the horizon. Here St. Peter saw the vision of things common and unclean, and Tabitha was raised from the dead. Jaffa has lived a thousand lives, and died a thousand deaths. It has been taken and retaken again and again ; has been reduced to a mere cluster of reed-huts ; built up anew, and walled about, until, to-day a city of eight thousand souls, it has outgrown its original limits, has a thriving colony of Germans in one suburb, and had a colony of Americans in another once upon a time ; but that enterprise was not successful. Jaffa figures in the campaigns of Sennacherib, the Maccabees, the Roman Cestius, Vespasian, Saladin, Safaddin, Richard Coeur de Lion, the Knights of St, John, and Napoleon I. These reflections, founded upon the diligent conning of numerous text-books of travel, were uppermost in my mind when our anchor plunged into the waves that wash the walls of Jaffa, and the chain whizzed after it with the most welcome music known to the ear of the fagged voyager. Every soul was astir, jostling his neighbor impetuously, rolling his luggage or his cigarette with uncommon enthusiasm, and hailing the bright morning and the A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 19 blossoming shore with exclamations of delight. Jaffa was in all its glory — a pyramid of flat roofs and white walls girdled by a flashing sea. Between us and the shore a broken reef gnashed its teeth and covered itself with foam. Throiigh the jaws of this reef we were all to pass in boats that danced upon the waves like corks, and coquetted with the steamer for an hour or more before they got well to work. Jaffa has no harbor and no dock ; it is not an uncommon fate for the steamers that arrive frequently during the week to be driven off shore by unfavorable weather; in which case all their pilgrim passengers are taken up the coast and down again, with the hope of making land in due course of time. We were con- gratulated upon our good fortune in being able to start for the shore as soon as the exasper- ating boat-boys could be brought to reasonable terms. It was an affair of much bargaining, pleading, threatening; for there are no fixed prices in that delectable land. It was, to my mind, a matter of very great uncertainty also, inasmuch as we heard that a boat had been dashed to pieces on the reef only a week previous, and five unlucky souls sent to their reckoning betimes. A constant stream of barges, great and small, passed to and fro ; we knew by the wild shouts of the oarsmen when they had shot the 30 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. reef in safety ; we knew by the frantic gesticu- lations of the Arabs in the returning boats that they were ready for another bout at a bar- gain; and so two or three hours passed by, while the sun grew hot, the fragrance of orange groves was wafted over the sea to us, and we came to terms at last. We dropped into one of the boats at the lucky moment when she swung up to the ship's ladder on the crest of a wave; gathered our luggage imto us, berated the half -naked boat- men for their gfreed in seek- ing to encumber us with more passengers than seemed to us desirable or safe, and then, head- ing for the water-gate of Jaffa, we bounded over { the waves in splendid 1 1 style, making a bril- liant passage of the reef, with just a dash of spray in our faces, and a crash of billows thun- dering in our ears. Ten minutes lat- er we swung up to the A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 21 slippery rocks at the threshold of the water- gate, where a dragoman welcomed us in good English, and directed us to the great Latin convent close at hand. Perhaps the confusion at the water-gate, coupled with the demand for passports, and the din of voices, drove from my mind for the time being every thought of the land I had at last reached in safety, — at least I must confess that my first thought was of shelter and my second of refreshment; for we had all been fasting during the last fourteen hours and more. A little company sought the door of the con- vent, and beat long and loud for admittance ; it was like trying to take a fortress with one's fists, but we took it at last. A gprave, good- natured soul opened the door, and led the way through deep, dark courts; up dingy stairways; along gloomy corridors; over flying galleries that joined house-top to house-top, and made the huge building accessible in every part, though it were vain to think of finding one's way about alone. This convent is capable of sheltering a thou- sand pilgrims ; it is often filled ; this is pretty sure to be the case about Easter, when the pious pilgrims to the Holy City find Jaffa the most convenient port of entry or of exit. Rooms were discovered away up on one of the high terraces, — large, airy rooms, with groined 2 2 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. ceilings, and deep windows grated like prison- cells. Crucifixes and holy pictures hung upon the walls; the beds were narrow but clean, the floors tiled and well swept. This was indeed solid comfort after our cramped, ill-smelling quarters on ship-board. The sea broke under the walls of the mon- astery far, far below us, and its music filled every part of the great, rambling building. Oh, how we laughed at our recent perplexities, and congratulated ourselves upon being so finely housed ! Four Franciscan monks direct the army quartered under their charitable roof. It is, indeed, charitable ; for those who are able to pay for shelter and refreshment give what- soever seemeth to them fit, while those who are poor come and go without money and with- out price. — Let it be borne in mind that there are many who beg their way to Jerusalem, carrying neither purse, nor scrip, nor shoes, but going forth as lambs among wolves; and, for the most part, it seems that even the most lamb-like is capable of making way with a wolf's share of everything. At breakfast we met two or three acquaint- ances, who came in from some remote comer of the monastery, and seemed glad to find familiar faces in so strange a place. One is always running upon friends in Eastern travel : those whom one has known at hotels, or in A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 23 ships' cabins, or on railway trains — for there are railways even in the East. Bread and wine and eggs, fresh fruits, and a chat with the friar — who was an Italian, and glad to speak of his native land — restored our souls. On all sides there was a perpetual hum of voices; we seemed to have found sanctuary in a beehive, so busy was everybody. Pil- grims of many types, of many tints, and of many creeds, hurried to and fro, making ready for the journey to Jerusa- lem. An Italian, with a barrel organ and two performing dogs, sat in the court await- ing the movements of the caravan which it was his purpose ''% to join. Those dogs '^ seemed weighed down with worldly wisdom; one lay quietly on the tight sk master's drum, looking very bored with life ; the other sat and eyed the turbulent crowd calculating the chances that latitude. MOSQUE AT JAFFA. 24 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. A chapel door stood open in the court. Mass was being said within, but the crowd was so dense that it was quite impossible to enter, or even to approach the threshold. People swathed in the cumbrous costumes of the East bowed before the altar, and swelled the chant in a confusion of tongues. It was hard to realize that the veiled women and the turbaned men were Christians, assisting at the Sacrifice of the Mass, which was there offered precisely as it is daily offered in our far-off homes. To be sure, each man wore his fez in chapel, and it was not even lifted at the Elevation of the Host; but the fez is never lifted from the head under any circumstances : one would as soon think of doffing his wig as taking off his fez at Mass. What a stroll it was through the narrow streets of Jaffa, — the streets that shoot under the houses like tunnels, and run up and down hills like pairs of stairs! How the bazaars glowed with colored stuffs, and made the air sweet with per- fumes that no seal can imprison! How the water splashed and gurgled in the old Saracenic fountain, with its marble troughs, and its golden verses from the Koran! What a chosen spot that was, cooled by the bubbling water, where half a dozen streets ran together, and the fan- THE HARBOR OF JAFFA, FROM SIMON THE TANNER'S HOUSE. tastic bazaars grouped themselves in a circle about it, under the shelter of vines and fig- trees ! There the twang of traffic is softened in the smoke-clouds of the nargilehs, and every bargain soothed with numberless small cups of coffee as black as ink and as thick as mud. All the sunshine of the East pours upon this devoted nook; whoso visits Jaffa has visited it in vain unless he knows what it is to linger for an hour within the charmed circle of 25 26 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. its antique fountain over against the Jerusalem Gate — a gate that has been wrested from the hinges long since — listening to the drone of the buyers and sellers ; sipping coffee and smoking Jehil; while he dreams of the Holy City beyond the plains of Sharon, over and beyond the mountains of Ephraim, — dreams of Jerusalem, and delays his departure because of the inex- pressible pleasure of that dream. I wonder if it is really the house of Simon the tanner that overhangs the sea? Of course, we went to spy it out. A Syrian woman, with her face uncovered (though most of them are veiled), led us through a small court into a small chamber glaring with whitewash; there was nothing visible but four bare walls, a floor, and a ceiling. By a flight of narrow and steep stone steps we ascended to the flat roof sur- rounded by a parapet. A fig-tree threw its gaunt arms above it, decked with a few great leaves, and one of these I captured as a trophy ; below the wall spread the great sea west- ward and northward toward the "Isles of Chittim." Here began the vexatious debate as to the authenticity of the shrines in Palestine. Of the thousands and tens of thousands that are called holy, very few are above suspicion. There are those who question the most authentic, who make the tour of the East snarl- A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 27 ing as they go, and whose demeanor in places the most sacred in the eyes of the faithful is indelicate and inexcusable; there are those who, with wide-staring eyes, believe blindly, and who are in a kind of dumb ecstasy so long as their feet press holy soil. Judge who among these is the worthier pilgrim, and let us dismiss the subject forever. From the roof of Simon's house the charms of Jaffa are displayed to the best advantage. The town is thoroughly Oriental : it could not be transplanted, even in its smallest sections, into any other land without at once being marked as an alien. Old as it is in one sense, it is very fresh and young in another. The Jaffa of to-day is lusty with the stirring life of travel ; through its narrow and crooked streets stream the caravans of the world. The eyes of all the nations of the earth have turned to it with joy ; the feet of myriads of pilgrims have waded, and will forever wade, in its summer dust, its winter mire. The sea, freighted with fleets, sings under its weather-beaten walls on the one hand, while famed gardens, sweet with the odors of unplucked grapes, oranges, pomegranates, peaches and figs, hem it about with bowers of perpetual shade upon the other. Yonder stands Lydda, where St. Paul healed .^neas, where St. George was bom, where the lion-hearted Rich- i ard pitched his camp. Beautiful Ratnleh, with its splendid tower, is farther on, by the green Plains of Sharon. Herod and Samson and David knew all this beauty. Jaffa grows younger and more populous day by day. You see unmistakable evidences of this in the aptitude of its people, the foreign element in its suburbs, its numerous hotels and agencies, and the brisk, busy air that keeps all its streets astir from dawn to dark. But few of the old traditions are left to it. In the month of May there is a festival when the Jaffites go out into their delicious groves singing of Tabitha, Dorcas, the gazelle. I wonder do they think on the time when "widows stood weeping, and showing the coats and garments which Dorcas had made while she was yet with them"? We thought of it, and of many things, as we sat on the house-top, and saw the sun set and the evening creep on 28 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 29 apace. Evening — the soft Syrian evening, filled with brilliant stars ! It reminded us that we were to set forth at sunrise, so, slowly and reluctantly, we returned to our house of refuge — the great, peaceful fortress that seemed to fill half the town, having over its door the inscription familiar to so many eyes, '■'■Hos- pitium Latium,'' and there we found dinner and a welcome. All night the sea sang to us a solemn song ; long we lay awake listening to it, and thinking of the morrow, when we were to begin our pilgrimage in very | truth. Jaffa, called by the Hebrews "the Beautiful," may not seem beautiful to all; but Jaffa under the rosy dawn of the first day in Holy Land, and Jaffa star-lit and lulled to sleep by the lapping waves of the Medi- terranean, on the eve of a pilgrim- age to Jerusalem the Golden, is a city of most precious memory, even though it be in the land of the Philistines ! "•^^^^^s^SSm- III. GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. w^' ''ViJ:^ PLAINS OF SHARON. As for our Caravan, there were three of us in the saddle at sunrise; a fourth, the indispen- sable donkey-boy, footed it in the rear of a diminutive beast, that staggered and halted under a small mountain of luggage. As we rode off in the broad sandy road that leads into the Plains of Sharon, we were joined by multitudes of pilgrims of every creed and color; for the most sacred of cities is holy in the eyes of the whole civilized world. On every side bloomed the rich gardens of 30 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 31 Jaffa ; again and again the splash of the water- wheel fell musically upon our ears, telling the secret of the perennial beauty of the groves through which we were joyously passing. Tall cypresses, feathery mimosas^ and gigantic cacti threw cool shadows across our path ; the royal palm waved its sable plumes above the road- side fountains ; camels knelt to rest with a look of pitiful resignation saddening their liquid eyes; gorgeously clad pilgrims dismounted in the fragrant shade, spread their mats upon the sward, and restored their souls with the be- guiling fumes of the nargileh. We were hastening to the most sacred and most solemn city in the world ; we were seek- ing it at a season when the Passion and Death of Him who died that we might live are cele- brated with the utmost pomp and splendor; yet we laughed and chatted gaily, made friends with our neighbors in the next caravan, dashed ahead in a trial of speed that seemed to interest everybody on the road, and in the course of an hour came to grief. It was discovered that one of our animals was an invalid and that there was small pros- pect of his living to reach Jerusalem. Here was a dilemma ; but E , our fair companion on many a voyage of discovery, bore up against the odds with feminine fortitude. All had been going moderately well, barring a sus- 32 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. picion of impending evil, and we entered into the spirit of enthusiasm that inspired every- body ; but when E 's nag halted suddenly, and began to kick with all-fours simultaneously, and without intermission, threatening every moment to throw himself and his rider into the ditch, we held a consultation, and impatiently awaited the arrival of our donkey-boy, who was by this time far, far behind us down the dusty road. Meanwhile, E 's saddle was looked to; we surrounded the obstreperous nag in a body, loosened the gfirths, and made an exam- ination: the saddle was good enough in its way, but the back of that objectionable beast blossomed like the rose — it was positively raw to the bone. With one accord we threw up our hands in horror; this was the signal for the immediate and successful flight of the miserable creature, who during the last hour must have endured a thou- sand tortures ; and we were not A half sorry when we saw him make a bee-line for Jaffa, his youth renewed, and he speeding upon the very wings of the morning. Then we sat down by a cis- tern, with a saddle on our hands, and a serious A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 33 break in our journey. Pilgrims cantered past us in twos, and threes, and fives, and twenties, raising clouds of fine white dust that powdered us profusely. They were as amiable as we were not, but we consoled ourselves with the thought that perhaps their turn would come later in the day ; for this sort of thing is always hap- pening in the Orient. Our donkey-boy, on his arrival, looked depressed, but accepted his fate with a resigna- tion that was highly edifying, and taught us a lesson by the wayside. We hung our saddle upon a convenient bough, even as of old the willows were hung with harps. Neither could we sing in our day any more than they sang who sat by the waters of Babylon ; but we did the best we could under the circumstances, and that was to mount E upon my horse, while I surmounted the luggage on the pack- animal, and the donkey-boy footed it back to Jaffa for reinforcements. It took our united efforts to start the reorganized caravan; of course my donkey, missing his diligent driver, and with my weight added to his burden, spilt off on both sides of the road, and persisted in backing toward Jerusalem, while he was led at one end and pushed at the other, and I rolled about in my uneasy seat as if I were striding a barrel in a heavy sea. How truly it has been said that misery loves company! We were consoled by numerous mishaps during the journey, and saw with our own eyes gfirths breaking, saddles turning, lug- gage plunging into the dust, while from time to time the shrill cries of women assured us that we were not the only sufferers that day. Our boy returned to us in good season, well mounted, and with a fund of spirits quite astonishing in a Syrian and a Mohammedan. He dashed down upon us at full speed, with a fierce shout of triumph, while many a face was turned toward him half in curiosity and half in fear, albeit this highway is to-day as free as any in the land; for the Bedouins have retreated into the mountain passes, and the desert beyond the mountains, and the Philis- tines are low in their grassy grave. We entered the Plains of Sharon. The land rose and fell in long green waves. We looked 34 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 35 across these hillocks, treeless and almost with- out shrubs, though the gaunt cactus spread its thorny palms against the sun in the midst of the lonely fields. We tracked the road for miles and miles — a straight brown path divid- ing the meadows ; sometimes we rode off into the wild com, where cyclamens, anemones, roses, lilies, and tulips grew in profusion ; anon we would dash on as swiftly as our tired steeds could carry us, until we reached an elevation, from which it was possible to view the wide horizon at a glance. A few flocks were scattered about ; pilgrims were still wending their way toward the goal we were all seeking ; and afar off a nameless hamlet — a mere cluster of low brown huts — slept the sleep that knows no waking at the hands of pilgrim or stranger. An early hour brought us to Ramleh — a small city with mosque domes and minarets, and a grove of drowsy palms ; — a city hedged about with cacti, busy with bees and swal- lows, and musical with the lullaby of summer life. Ramleh is the Rose of Sharon, the joy of the pilgrim, and the beast that bears him ; for Ramleh is a place of refreshment and of rest. Ramleh is thought to be Ramah of the Old Testament and Arimathea of the New: but this is an open question. From the high win- dows of a crumbling tower of the Crusaders — 36 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. perhaps the finest souvenir they have left us in that land — with the blue rim of the Mediter- ranean in the west, the mountains of Judea in the east, and the white walls of Lydda, or Ludd, in the northeast, and all the meadows fresh with fragrant rains, and rich with uncut com waving below, one scarcely pauses to question whether Samuel really judged the people in this very town, or if the Hebrew Elders assembled here to demand a king. Lydda, the distant town, was the birthplace of England's St. George — at least, so it is reported there; though, according to Meta- phrastes, he was born in Cappadocia. Saladin destroyed its church ; Richard the Lion- Hearted restored it ; but all that one enjoys of Lydda to-day is the fine glimmer of its snow-white walls in the delicious green prairies of Sharon. There was rest for us in the old Franciscan convent at Ramleh, after refreshments and a pipe. How still the cloisters were, and how charming J U the semi-transparent shadows in '^ SL ^^ the vine-roofed ~^f?s .\^mSf* courts, andthecof- •""■-- tJi^^'*-'*^^ fee on the house- top just before set- ting forth again ! There are Germans settled TOWER OF RAMLEH. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 37 at Ramleh; they have an inn, and a wagon that runs between Jaffa and Jerusalem, and is a great convenience when one is weary or afraid of the saddle; but, somehow, this wagon always drops its passengers at that German inn, both going and coming, whether * CHURCH OF ST. GEORGE. &fy they will or no; and, though it is a /good enough inn, it is not so good or so proper or so picturesque a hospice as the beautiful old monastery. They miss it who pass through Ramleh without at least a glance into the hospitable abode of the Franciscans, The noonday nap at Ramleh ended, we remounted our animals while they still munched the fresh-cut grass, and were soon jogging up the long, long road leading to the 38 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. Holy City. Most of the caravans of the day had passed us — we were taking it leisurely. A little troop of horsemen in the distance was all that gave life to the quiet afternoon landscape ; a few larks carolled to us in the upper air, and the bright blue sky bent over us; but an almost oppressive silence prevailed, and the land seemed deserted. No wonder! this was the plain of Sharon; those lonely fields were once peopled by twenty millions of people, A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 39 where now there are scarcely a tenth part as many. The earth moumeth and languish- eth, indeed; and Sharon is become a wilder- ness. The road ascended into a hilly district some- what wilder than that through which we had just passed. Shortly we began to note upon the hill-tops great square watch-towers of dark stone, and then we knew that, though we were on a thoroughfare which for four thou- sand years has been the highway between Jerusalem and the sea-coast, these towers were erected as a protection — they date chiefly from the period of the Crusades — and not many years ago it was a perilous venture to seek the Sacred City unless accompanied by a consider- able number of lancers. Up, up, up, and still up, over the hills that began to fatigue our animals, we slowly approached the highlands, among which, twenty-six hundred feet above the sea, stands Jerusalem. The evening shadows gathered about us ; the cool dew fell copiously ; crickets sang in the long grass by the road-side, and the noise of our horses' stumbling hoofs grew louder and louder in the intensified stillness of the gathering dusk. Even the neighboring watch-towers look unfriendly, standing bleakly against the darkening sky. It was thus, weary, hungry, and a little loath to drag ourselves THE SYRIAN KHAN. into the threatening mountains, that we came to Bab-el-Wady, the gate of the valley. We were at the mouth of a deep ravine ; the road speedily buried itself in dense groves, and was utterly lost to view beyond a sudden 40 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 41 bend. The clouds hung low about the steep and rugged mountains, and threatened rain; it was already chilly and damp: why should we venture farther on such a night? A stone khan, the inn of the Orient, stood close upon the road-side to the right; across the way a thatched roof gave shelter to a com- pany of muleteers. The place was swarming with pilgrims; camels, horses, and asses were staked out in the grass about the khan ; fires were blazing, and several camps were busy discussing the evening meal of black-bread and A PAN OF COAI.S AND A SAUCEPAN. 42 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. oil and lentils. It was marvelously picturesque, but it was likewise a trifle cold, and so we gave our animals into the hands of a retainer — our donkey-boy was, of course, not due before midnight — and climbed into the upper story of the khan to look for shelter. There were four huge rooms above with vaulted ceilings, and narrow, deep-set win- dows, that looked as if they had been built with an eye to security in war time. There were stone floors also, and a little rickety furniture of the rudest description; a feeble light dis- closed a cupboard at one end of the main room ; it was scantily furnished with stale bread, and wine and oil and eggs; the eggs fortunately were fresh, and to these we looked for life enough to bear us to Jerusalem on the morrow. We ordered a pot of coals from a Syrian Jew, who served us civilly ; a saucepan came next ; we broke the eggs into the pan, and flooded them with oil ; one of us held the long handle of the saucepan, another stirred the contents with a spoon, I fanned the flames with my broad-brimmed hat, and the result was gratify- ing. With bread sopped in oil, eggs in some nameless shape, and thin sour wine we made an admirable supper; then we threw ourselves on three hard lounges — stretchers they might have been called with more propriety — where soon the long pulls and the strong pulls which A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 43 we took at our nargilehs made bubbling music far into the night. This is the extent of the entertainment afforded by an Oriental inn; one must travel with everything one needs in that country; the markets are scattered and uncertain, and the heaviest purse not so long as the tongue of the extortionate marketman. What an experience that was! I dozed at intervals, but awoke again and again, to find my comrade still drawing scented bubbles through the water-bowl of his Turkish pipe; he may have smoked incessantly till daybreak ; at any rate, he was a complete convert to the forms of his adopted country, Syria, and had at his tongue's end modern Greek, Turkish, Persian, and Arabic, beside the chief languages of Europe ; and he was only two and twenty. Meanwhile, the beasts in the stable under us stamped about to keep warm; jingled their little bells, and awoke their masters, who chided them not unkindly ; sometimes a donkey lifted up his voice in agonizing gasps, and then we all reviled him in chorus. We could frequently hear the vexed cries of the restless and uncomfortable sleepers under us ; to them it must have been a long night of torture. Long before daybreak we were in the saddle, yet we were not the first to mount; as we went forth from our dreary lodging we found coffee boiling over an open 44 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. fire in the muleteers' camp, pipes alight, pil- grims stirring sleepily, and animals of all kinds pawing the ground and whinnying impatiently. Some of our fellow-pilgrims were encum- bered with all their worldly possessions; one donkey staggered under a mountain of feather- beds, atop of which a fat matron rode astride, while on each side of the diminutive beast swung a pannier full of small children. The lord and master of this mountain of domestic prosperity footed it in the rear of his caravan, keeping a sharp eye on his precious freight. A single false step of the little donkey that trudged sturdily along before, might have widowed him and rendered him childless at one fell swoop. He had slept with his little family down among the cattle — perhaps be- cause "there was no room for him in the inn." Such was our first night in a Syrian khan. Over the hills of Palestine we held our course. The way was dark, and the morning bitter cold; thick clouds were continually rushing across the moon. We entered a deep and densely wooded ravine; it was filled with mysterious shadows, and swept by occasional currents of cold, damp air. Higher and higher we climbed, until at last we came to the bald summit of the mountains, where the wind was piercing, and we were soon chilled to the bone. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 45 Day broke at last, and was hailed with acclamations. We pressed on over the wind- ing road, that sometimes buried itself out of sight in the dark valleys, and sometimes climbed zigzag up a steep hill-side among the terraces that are so common in Syria. All these hills are belted with stone terraces, — a dozen, fifteen, thirty of them, one above another, damming up the thin soil which otherwise would be washed into the bed of the valley. Olives — gray old trees, as naked and forlorn as some of the monsters to which Dor6 in his illustration of Dante was fond of giving a half -human form; olives — great, straggling orchards of them — sycamores, and a few palms crown these terraces, and partially hide the ugly ruggedness of the land. The hills of Palestine are covered with stones that lie thickly on the top of the soil ; one might easily imagine that a shower of rock had once deluged the country. These rocks are easily thrown together in rude walls, the soil above them leveled even with their tops ; and thus the hills become giant stairways leading to the low-hanging clouds. Hour after hour we followed the road as it wound among the hills. A sharp shower drove us into a rude shelter by the wayside, where for the time being we were housed with cattle and barnyard fowls; dripping pilgrims has- 46 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. tened to join us, and together we stood waiting fairer weather. The road was slippery after this, and more than once our animals came near to unseating us. Again and again the landscape was A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 47 veiled with mist ; other showers, following the first, overtook us when we were beyond the reach of shelter, and there was nothing for us to do but to continue our course in solemn silence, while the rain streamed from our hat brims into our laps. So we came into the Valley of Aijalon, and remembered how Joshua said: "Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, moon, in the Valley of Aijalon." A little later our eyes fell upon the pretty village of Abu Gash, so called from the robber chief who reigned there for a quarter of a century, in defiance of the Turkish powers. There the Ark of the Covenant rested twenty years; there Jeremiah was born — perhaps; or perhaps the village of Anathoth has prior claim to the honor of the Prophet's birth. A fine old church at the edge of the village still bears the name of the Prophet, though it is now a mere shell; its doorways half filled with fallen stones, and a rank growth of weeds possessing it. After passing Abu Gash, we descended into the green valley of Elah; the hosts of the Amorites fled through this valley after their defeat at Betharam; and there the youthful David slung the pebble that sunk into the forehead of Goliath. All these traditions came to the surface on the very spot, as we rode, hour after hour. 48 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT, through the most interesting country of the globe; yet I fear none of them impressed us much at the time ; at least not so much as they should have done, and certainly not so much as they have done a thousand times since, when in imagination we have revisited the scene. There is a vast difference between one's acceptance of the facts of sacred history and the features of profane geography. The time had come, for me at least, to place one atop of the other, and mark how well they agreed; they do agree, no doubt, as well as any history and any geography of any age or nation. Indeed, I believe it easier for a man to accept the statements of the Bible literally after a pilgrimage to Palestine than before it. My chief trouble lay in the inability to realize that Scripture is a history that fits into every nook and comer of the land through which I was passing ; it had never been brought home to me in this way before, and the palpable evidences of the authenticity of that marvelous book were so numerous and so complete as to be almost overwhelming. As a pilgrim, I accepted everjrthing with a sometimes weak, but always unquestioning, faith; reserving to myself, however, the privilege of turning aside from time to time to let faith rest from its labors, and to give my mind to the forgetting A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 49 of much that is foolish, and not a little that is painful, in the unwise exhibition of shrines, and places or objects more or less holy. As we were riding in the sun, which at last came forth to give us welcome, an official stopped our way; he was resplendent in voluminous blue trousers; a scarlet jacket crusted with gold embroidery; a turban, with a long silken tassel dangling between his shoulders, and a glittering cimeter of the most warlike and theatrical description. He had been dispatched to conduct us into the city ; for my companions were people of dis- tinction, and their approach was looked for by the Austrian Consul, whose private kawwas he was ; the gorgeous personage above men- tioned was at our disposal so long as we remained in the Holy City. One seldom goes abroad in the Orient without an escort of this charac- ter, though he is not always of this quality. As we surmounted hill after hill, hoping ever to satisfy our eyes with a sight of the city we had come so far to see, yet still seeing it not, our hearts failed us; again and again we arrived A GORGEOUS PERSON. 50 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. silently at a summit, nervous with anticipation, breathless with unfeigned emotion, and each of us eager to be the first who should hail the vision of those memorable walls. Again and again we saw beyond us another valley and another hill ; the kawwas, with ill-judged kind- ness, encouraged us in the belief that each hill- top was the last, until, almost in despair, we reined in our horses, and proceeded at a lazy pace, quite indifferent to our surroundings. Our excitement had entirely subsided; we were half famished, and thoroughly fatigued. In this state, almost unconsciously, we ap- proached a group of quite new buildings, — a straggling village in a bare, bleak, forbidding landscape, under a gray, cold sky, I chanced to be riding a little in advance of our party, when a venerable Polish Jew, in long-flow- ing robes, high hat, and with the stiff ring- lets of his race dangling before his ears, gravely saluted me; at this moment our kawwas dashed forward, and in a shrill voice exclaimed, "^Ecce Gerusa- lenima!'' We were indeed within the suburbs of the Holy City, and our first welcome was from a Polish Jew, The city walls were not yet visible, but the domes of the Mosque of Omar and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre THE WELCOME TO JERUSALEM. THE PRINCE OF JERUSALEM. at once met our \ / gaze, and we turn- ed to one another >/ with glances of rec- ognition, but without uttering a word. Let me confess that I had pictured myself, at the moment when I first beheld this sacred spot, falling with my forehead to the earth, and watering the sod with tears; when that hour arrived I was in no humor to do any- thing of the sort. The scene had not burst upon me with overwhelming beauty or majesty or solemnity. The village without the walls was unattractive, and, moreover, we had approached the Jaffa Gate, which of all the gates is perhaps the least impressive ; however, we did not enter there, but, following the wall to the left, passed down under its shadow, and came into the edge of a narrow vale fringed with Mohammedan graves. We were seeking St. Stephen's Gate. Over the wall of the city loomed the superb dome of 5* A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. Omar's Mosque ; to the left lay a small garden on a sloping hill; above the garden, on the summit of the hill, stood a solitary chapel, walled about, having a tower and a prospect over olive groves, and across the narrow vale at our feet, upon the long sweep of wall and all the domes and minarets of the Sacred City. This vision dawned upon us as we turned the comer of the wall, and with it, suddenly, like a blinding flash, came the thought, Jerusa- lem, the Valley of Jehosaphat, the Garden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives ! In a moment we were upon the ground, leading, with trembling hand, our ani- mals toward the gate, the most precious gate, that opens upon Gethsemane. It is written, "The King walks when he comes to Zion. " At the worn thresh- old of the gate the guards presented arms; the muskets clanged upon the pavement as we passed out of the gloomy archway into a narrow street. It was but a step to the Via Dolorosa. None of us had yet spoken ; as we rec- ognized localities familiar to us from early childhood, by reason of the thou- sand prints and pictures we had seen, we sometimes exchanged quick glances, but this was ^5r'^\ all. Each paler than com- MINARET OF OMAR. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 53 mon, a kind of nervous tremor possessed us, and we were dumb with awe. Passing up the Via Dolorosa, under the Ecce Homo Arch, we approached the hospice, whose charity had already set our rooms in order, and laid the cloth for our welcome meal. During the hours that followed but one thought was in my mind; it filled my heart with unspeakable gratitude, for it was a prophecy again fulfilled; it was the refrain sung over and over again to the wild throb- bing of my pulse — "Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem!" IV. IMPRESSIONS OF JERUSALEM. Behold the Field of the Mosque of Omar! Standing upon the Mount of Olives, with the familiar panorama of Jerusalem spread out before you, the first object that attracts the eye, and the one that is sure to hold it longest, is the Haram- esh-Sherif — the Field of the Mosque of Omar. It is bor- dered on two sides by the an- cient and pic- turesque walls of the city. It hangs upon the brink of the val- I ley of the Kedron — Jehoshaphat — a nar- row and not very deep ravine, dotted with Moslem tombs. It absorbs for a time the attention of the pilgrim; for its traditions are as star- tling, as attractive, as fan- 54 SOLOMON S STABLES. 56 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT, tastic as any within the range of human knowl- edge. Mount Zion, though it overtops the world in the imagination of the Christian, is, after all, only a little hill, and by no means impressive ; but the Field of the Mosque of Omar is at once the pedestal and the pylon of the most brilliant epochs in the history of all time. The platform of the Temple — that is, the field itself — is partly artificial, the southeast corner being supported by a hundred massive columns twenty-eight feet in height; these columns are roofed over, and the roof is cov- ered with soil and grass ; it is, in fact, a part of the great field of the Temple, stretching out to the city wall above Kedron valley. The damp and gloomy vaults beneath are called Solo- mon's stables. Tradition, that runs wild in the Orient, and em- barrasses h i s - tory whenever WINDOWS LIKE CAGES. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 57 it is possible, ascribes the origin of these sub- terranean chambers to demons. But is there a corner of the earth more crowded with interest than the enclosed field above these vaults — the field of the Temple, or of the Mosque of Omar? Here is the most beautiful of mosques ; here are prayer-shrines, cypress and olive trees in clusters, and the great gate called the "Golden," long since walled up, and not to be reopened till the Day of Judgment, when the Judge shall enter by it. There are long rows of dwellings, standing with backs to the field, upon the north and west; there are colonades, deep porches, latticed windows clinging to the walls like huge bird-cages, and a lesser mosque, called El Aksa, near the southern wall. Upon this spot Abraham offered sacrifices; David raised an altar; Solomon, as if by enchantment, conjured his marvelous Temple. A second temple sprang from the ruins of the first; a third — King Herod's — followed that, and much of the latter is preserved to this day. For the site of these structures the slope of the hill was walled up, and filled in over the valleys of Jehoshaphat on the east, Hinnom on the south, and Zyropoeon on the west. In the Porch of Solomon, under the last of the temples, looking out upon Olivet, Our Blessed Savior walked. At the Temple sat 58 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. the money-chang- of doves and ewe v "^ those days the gold stones that decorated the must have sacrificial fires the sun set upon But the was over- stood Ha- with its gods ; mosque c r o wn- been re- as the save only iilecca •'^ r w ers, and the sellers lambs; and in and precious sacred edifices glowed like in the glory of that rose and *• Jerusalem. kingly Tabernacle thrown, and in its stead drian's temple to Jupiter, constellation of profane and finally arose the which we now see, jniil»fr>c:^«u!i!i| ing a spot that has ever S^ifC^J^^W garded by the Moslems \\ ^n holiest of all holy places, IN THE FIELD OF THE MOSQUE OF OMAR. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 59 Eight gates in the western wall of the Haram-esh-Sherif admit you to the green enclosure. These gates stand open, and people are continually passing in and out ; but the few foreigners who enter are invariably accompanied by the necessary official, the kawwas, who is in reality a chief of police, though he acts as your guide or dragoman. The irregular quadrangle within the gates is about five hundred and thirty yards in length by three hundred and fifty in breadth. The .field is littered with pavilions, prayer-niches, and Mohammedan shrines, that seem to have been scattered hither and yon with reckless extravagance. Beautiful little domes, like rainbow-tinted bubbles, are poised upon clus- ters of slender columns of porphyry, serpen- tine, or alabaster; these columns are moulded like wax, and set upon marble floors, open to the sun and the wind, and all winged and wandering tribes of the air. They are, for the most part, filthy and neglected, yet one must approach them in his stocking-feet, or with his boots thrust into loose slippers, or bundled up in newspaper, like packages from the butcher; for each and all of these pavil- ions are holy in the eyes of the Mohammedans, and are gfuarded with fanatical zeal. At one end of the field is a small mosque, which was originally a chapel erected by 6o A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. Justinian to the honor of the Blessed Virgin. Alas! how it has been stripped of every sym- bol of Christian love and reverence ! A foot- print of Our Lord is shown there, and a tomb is pointed out as that of the sons of Aaron. A niche in a subterranean chapel is called the Cradle of Christ ; tradition says here dwelt the aged Simeon, and here the Blessed Virgin spent some days after the Presentation the Temple. Putting on our shoes, we followed the wall until we came to the Beau- tiful Gate, now generally called, through an odd but easy error, the Golden Gate. The Arabs have walled it up against invaders, and placed under it a prayer- niche; yet, in spite of these precautions, a superstition prevails that a Christian Conqueror will enter by that gate some Friday in the hereafter, and retake the Holy City. Heaven speed the new Crusade! for in the days of the old ones this gate was thrown open on Palm Sunday to admit the multitudes coming over from the Mount A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 6i of Olives, bearing palm branches, and strew- ing their garments in the way. Not far from the gate is a chamber called the Throne of Solomon, It is said that, for all his glory, he died here, seated upon his throne, and supported by his staff. By this ruse, says the childish fable, the king hoped to conceal the knowledge of his death from the demons; and it was not until the worms had eaten through the staff, and the king had fallen headlong to the floor, that his death was discovered by the evil spirits, whom he held in bondage. The windows of this mosque-like chamber are filled with rags, that have been torn from the garments of the Moslem pilgrims, and left as tributes. One continually meets with these tatters — bits of glass or tin, pieces of string, or in fact anything and everything that can be tied to a mosque window-grating, or to the trees near the tomb of a sheik, whose relics are held sacred. The field of the Mosque of Omar fills one with disappointment and regret, there is such a waste of splendid material, and, in our eyes at least, a desecration unspeakable. There is a total lack of harmony in the grouping of the buildings, some of which are marvels of beauty and architectural grace. The trees seem to have grown by chance in the most inconven- 6 62 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. lent spots ; an air of desolation broods over all ; the place looks as if it had been devastated again and again — and so it has. Indeed, women might weep among these ruins, and men rend their garments, with thinking of the glory- that has departed out of them. A flock of lambs was feed- ing on the young grass as we entered the chief gate of the Field of the Mosque of Omar. At one or two of the small shrines — they were mere niches like tombstones, set up with their backs toward Mecca — M ohammedans were prostrated in prayer. A blue cloud of pigeons whirled over our heads, or buried themselves among the project- ing cases of the deep windows in the walls above us. We looked across the broad enclos- the centre of it a THRONE OF SOLOMON. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 63 temple so exquisitely proportioned and so splen- didly tinted that one might easily imagine it some fairy pleasure-house cut from a single gem. On a pedestal stands the fiat-roofed octagon, pierced with elaborately ornamented windows, set with marble panels and porcelain tiles, and the whole structure looking as fine and delicate as ivory. A single dome seems to be floating in the air above the mysterious chamber, — a dome crusted with tiles that encase it like feathers or fish-scales ; and the tiles are tinted with all the changeful shades of orange, violet, and green; — a dome that in the sunshine is as beautifully outlined and as splendidly dyed as the breast of a peacock. This is the Rubbet- es-Sakhra — the Dome of the Rock, the Mohammedan Holy of Holies. Under the arcade that surrounds the mosque will hang the g^eat scales that are to weigh the good and evil on the judgment day ; within it is the rock itself, — a rock so venerated that no foot is permitted to tread it. We are constrained to approach it with our shoes off, and even so late as the Crimean War, it was worth a Chris- tian's life to seek admission here. It is said that the Jews have never sought it, as they fear they may unwittingly defile their Holy of Holies. The interior of the mosque is airy but 64 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. impressive. Elegant antique columns support the roof, and form a double circular isle. These columns differ in size and shape and color; some of them probably did service in the pagan temple ; some may have stood in the very Temple of Solomon. One, at least, bears the symbol of our Redemption. A perpetual twilight floods the lofty dome; it is scarcely possible to distinguish the rich mosaics, the fantastic arabesques, the garlands of flowers, and the ancient Cufic inscriptions that run round the walls, whereon is written : "Praise be to God, who has had no son or companion in His government, and who re- quires no helper to save Him from dishonor. . . . The Messiah Jesus is only the Son of Mary, the Am- bassador of God, and His Word, which He deposited in Mary. . , . God is not so constituted that He could have a Son; be that far from Him!" The light stealing through the stained- glass windows, that are pro- tected from the " weather by thin A PULPIT. sheets of porcelain, falls softly on the florid orna- ments of bronze and gold, and casts a spell over the curious visitors who have entered to gaze upon the sacred rock. The rock, which lies immediately beneath the dome, is partly covered by a Persian carpet; a high railing surrounds it. A gate in this railing admits you to the cavern in or under the rock, which is entered by a short flight of stairs. Here, on this rock, according to the Talmud and the Targums, Abraham was on the point of slaying Isaac; Melchisedek offered sacri- fices; Jacob anointed it; Jehovah concealed 6s 66 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. within it the Ark of the Covenant, which is supposed to be still buried beneath it. On this rock was written the '''' Shamhamphorash^'" the great and unspeakable Name of God; it was the threshing-floor of Araunah, the Jebu- site, and King Solomon's Holy of Holies. According to the Mohammedan tradition, the rock — which is fifty-seven feet long, fifty-three feet wide, and rises six feet and six inches above the floor of the mosque — ^hovers over an abyss, with a subterranean torrent raging below. Beneath it is a well, where the souls of the deceased assemble in prayer twice weekly. Some assert that the rock came from Paradise; that it rests upon a palm-tree watered by a river of Paradise, and that holy women stand beneath it in ecstasy. Again it is asserted that the last trump will be sounded from its summit, and the throne of God will then be placed there. Mohammed declares that one prayer offered at the Dome of the Rock is better than a thousand uttered elsewhere. Hither he came to pray in a corner under the rock, and was forthwith translated to his heaven, on the back of his winged steed El Burak. His flight was so sudden and unexpected that he went through the roof of the cavern like a shot, leaving a large hole in verification of the fact. The enamored rock was upon the point of flying A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 67 after him, when it was seized by the Angel Gabriel, who left his finger-marks in the side of it. The rock, enraged at this interference on the part of the Angel, ran out its tongue at him, and there it hangs to this hour, in a very- proper state of petri- ,^^ faction. ^ ^^^iv^ The relics that are '^ . ^ gathered in the mosque are 'A, trivial — a few hairs from Mohammed's beard, the banners of Mohammed and Omar, and the shield /y - of Hamzeh; the petri- fied saddle of that flying horse, and a slab of jasper, where- ^ ^, in the Prophet drove nineteen golden nails. One nail had disap peared at the end of each epoch, and this was likely to con- tinue; but one day the devil — probably in the disguise of a curio-hunting tourist — succeeded in mak- ing way with all but three of the nails, when, as usual, the Angel Gabriel came to the rescue, and three golden nails ST. JOHN'S 68 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. are still treasured. Perhaps this is fortunate, for the Moslems believe that upon the disap- pearance of the last nail the world will come to an end. There was a time when the Crusaders built a high altar in the centre of the rock, surround- ing it with statues of the saints, and raising above a golden crucifix. Traces of the choir are still visible; and the bronze screen, with four gates, is still preserved, to mark that eventful period in the history of the rock ; but the place that was once thrice holy has been profaned, and it is only through the courtesy of the Turks, and by the payment of an extor- tionate fee, that a Christian is permitted to visit it in his stocking-feet. Thus passed the blessed days. Yussef Effendi, Mayor of Jerusalem, came again and again to lure us away among the streets of his native city. We smoked with him in caf^s that sometimes hid themselves under the pon- derous arches of a dismantled temple, whose stones were laid by the pious but warlike hands of the Crusaders. We treaded dingy bazaars, roofed with stone, begrimed with smoke, thronged with loungers of every nation- ality, and there priced the barbaric ornaments of beaten silver that delight the Oriental eye. Hoops and bracelets, knotted or braided; girdles strung thick with jingling corns; neck- A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 69 laces, breastplates, earrings, and bands for the forehead and the hair, — all these were put into the scales, and offered at so much per ounce. One day, in that dusky bazaar — they are like veritable tunnels running under masses of con- creted dwellings — an Arab lad strolled into our midst, and jostled us rudely, uttering at the same time some uncivil comments on our method of bargaining. In a moment our kawzvas, who was vigilance itself, turned upon the young fellow, and drove him out of the bazaar with many stripes. No one seemed at all disconcerted — not even the poor lad upon whose back the blows fell thick and fast ; he uttered not a word; the business of the hour was continued without interruption, and the affair dismissed without comment. Meanwhile, the scales in the hands of the weigher balanced between clumsy disks of sil- ver and the little bronze weights carefully selected by the very artisan who had melted and moulded and polished his wares in the small nook where he was offering them for sale. The shadowy populace drifted to and fro in the long, subterranean streets, whose sombre atmosphere was cleft here and there by dusty bars of dense blue light, that slid obliquely through crevices in the vaulted roof above. 7o A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. Leaving the three dark streets of the bazaar — ^streets that are crossed by narrow ways and passages almost as black as a starless night — we came into the glare of open day. Then we went to and fro, between the forbidding walls of houses, that are in every case provided with bolts and bars and g^ratings. Often two or three steps, the breadth of the street, carried us up or down ; there are no wheeled vehicles in the Holy City, and these street-steps are worn deep in the middle by the ceaseless feet of people and the hoofs of beasts, who share the way in common. Side streets turn sharply to right or left, and almost immediately disappear beyond the corners of adjacent houses. We met swarms of Polish Jews, in flowing robes that looked not unlike morning-gowns; Greeks, Latins, Arme- nians, and Copts, are equally distinguished b)'' their several costumes. Nubians, Hindoos, Afghans, Persians, Tartars, Arabs, and Modem Greeks filed before us in a perpetual pageant. Christian Street in Jerusalem is an open bazaar, full of sunshine, mother of pearl, and amber. There are stone steps in this street that have been turned to account by venders of holy objects; these busy bees buzz over their wares on each side of the way, leaving between them a narrow path for the passage of pilgrims, their chief purchasers. Here are A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 71 spread heaps of crosses, cut in olive wood, ivory, amber and pearl; rosaries of every description line the walls a foot deep ; — pious pictures, great pearl shells curiously engraved with scenes from the Passion of Our Lord, and some of them carved delicately in lace-like patterns; roses of Jericho, cut and dried, and looking for all the world like withered cabbage sprouts ; olive-wood cuif -buttons, napkin-rings, paper-folders, and numberless pretty souvenirs. Glass bracelets from the Hebron are there, offered wholesale and retail, at prices ranging from two or three sous upward; necklaces, consisting of a multitude of thin glass disks, moulded in the fashion of flower-petals, and painted to resemble the wings of butterflies, are singularly beautiful, and astonishingly cheap. There are shops where Bibles and Testa- ments may be had, bound in covers of olive wood, with the Cross of Jerusalem carved on one cover, and the name of the Holy City, in Hebrew characters, stamped upon the other. Candlesticks, boxes of all sizes and various patterns, crucifixes great and small, desks, tables, and even larger articles of furniture, are ready for immediate transportation; and all are made of olive wood, and most of the wood is said to have grown upon the Mount of Olives. 72 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. Nowhere else have I seen such splendid amber — great beads of it, almost as large as hens' eggs, strung on thick silken cords; mouth-pieces that you could hardly girdle with your thumb and finger — colossal globes of imprisoned sunshine, oily to the touch, per- fumed, magnetic, and of inestimable value. These precious wares lie in confusion at the doors of shops no bigger than cupboards, and are brooded over by fat, drowsy-eyed Turks, who, for the most part, seem to think it an unkindness in the purchaser to bear away in triumph — though he leave its weight in gold — a tube of amber, out of which one might almost blow bubbles of liquid flame. The number of shrines, convents, mosques, and syn- s-gogues in Jerusalem is al- most beyond computation. One is dragged through scores of them, told fabulous legends, relieved of a back- sheesh — the always demanded fee — and suffered to depart at last in a state of pitiful exhaustion. Even objects of great historical interest, such as the "Hippicus Tower," called the "City of David," are YUSSEF EFFENDI. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 73 scarcely impressive in their present state ; nor is the great, gray ruin of the Muristan at all satisfactory, unless one has the power to re- store, in imagfination, the broken arches, tear lichen from the crumbling walls, and replace the burnished arms that once hung there. Yet in the scholar's chamber of the Muristan, the order of the Hospitallers — the pious Knights of St. John of Jerusalem — nourished the pil- grims, who in those days were sorely in need of nourishment when they went up into the Holy City. On the very spot where now the Hospice and great Church of St. Mary are falling to decay, once stood the monastery founded by Charle- magne. The Church of St. Anne was built by the Crusaders on the site of a church mentioned as early as the 7th century. In the ancient crypt, says one tradition, dwelt St. Anne when she gave birth to the Blessed Virgin. Sultan Abdul-Mejid gave the Church of St. Anne to Napoleon HI. in 1856. The Sultan likewise presented the Muristan to Prussia on the occasion of the visit of the Crown Prince to Constantinople, in 1869. It is not improbable that some favored monarch may find a polite note at the side of his breakfast-plate some fine morning, begging him to accept the Holy Sepulchre "as a slight testimonial," etc. 74 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. It is easy enough to find one's way to a spot where two or three cypresses stand upon the brink of a shallow pool of green-mantled water. It seems the receptacle for the rub- bish of the neighborhood; one would hardly give it a second glance in passing. Yet that is the Bethesda — the pool into which the angel was wont to descend. The Pool of Siloam, under the city wall, is visited by the afflicted, who consider it a never-failing fount of eye- water ; but the cur- rent is polluted, and put to practical uses by tanners and washerwomen. One might almost cry out in despair on the first glance at Je- rusalem, seeing the mercenary spirit of the inhabitants, which penetrates even the most secret and sacred of shrines: 'Ye have made it a den of thieves!" It was a relief to pause, as we often did, to glance through the grating of a Moslem cemetery. I remember one in par- ticular — a tiny garden- THE POOL OF SILOAM. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 75 plot in the Via Dolorosa. It is overgrown with flowers and thistles, and fat, thriving weeds. Its serene and secret loveliness is a delight to the eye and the heart. A lamp swings under a gaunt olive-tree, that shelters half its unkept graves. The slender, turbaned headstones are slowly sinking in the rain-soaked soil. Some of them are prostrate in the long, juicy grasses, that bend over them as if to hide this proof of forgetfulness on the part of those who are, perhaps, still in the full enjoyment of life. That quiet nook is like a little poem on death — but it is lyrical, and not altogether sad; certainly, by no means so sad or so saddening as half, or more than half, that one sees on every hand in the streets of the Holy City. Let us get hence under the deep wall of the Temple, and witness one of the most singular and solemn spectacles of the many that are peculiar to this singularly solemn city. It is Friday at the Jews' wailing-place. Nar- row, crooked, and filthy streets lead down under the hill of the temple. As you approach the open space against the huge blocks of stone that are imbedded in the foundations of the wall — stones that are believed to have rested there since the days of Solomon in all his glory — your ear is startled by a chorus of agonizing cries. Such a wail might have 76 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. ascended from the streets after that night of the death of the first-born. Turning out of the slippery and ill-smelling passage into the place of wailing, I beheld a multitude of men, women, and chil- dren, apparently- stricken with a com- mon sorrow, that could find adequate expression in noth- ing but tears and piercing cries. There may have been two hundred mourners ; a very small company of strangers stood apart, and looked on in amazement. Old men with snowy beards, old women withered and weath- er-beaten, sat against the wall opposite the sacred stones of the Temple, reading their prayer-books^ and nodding their heads quickly and violently backward THE WAILING PLACE OF THE JEWS. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 77 and forward, as if they would thus impress upon the very air the earnestness of their muttered prayers. Young- lads stood against the Temple wall, reading their litanies, and kissing the stones from time to time with affectionate reverence. The women were more demonstrative, and, as they threw their arms above their heads, they wrung their hands, and wept bitterly. Their cries and sobs were echoed by a chorus of mourners, while a hysterical wave of emotion passed through the entire assembly, that swayed to and fro like corn in the wind. Some of the mourners knelt apart, and, with their foreheads pressed against the wall, worn smooth with countless kisses — their eyes all the while pouring rivers of tears — they appealed to those huge dumb blocks as pas- sionately as if they meant that the very stones should hear them and reply. Small wicks floating in oil were lighted from time to time by those who had just joined the wailers. An attendant kept a good supply of these tapers on hand, and whoso gave him a trifling fee was at once served with a feeble light; the light, however, was left burning in charge of the attendant. A few of the mourners stood apart or knelt in silent meditation ; a few gave way to gfrief so violent it seemed verging upon madness e 78 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. and despair. All were evidently thoroughly in earnest, as they repeated over and over again this litany : For the place that lies desolate, For the place that is destroyed, For the walls that are overthrown, For our majesty that is departed, For our great men who lie dead, For the precious stones that are burned. For the priests who have stumbled. For the kings who have despised Him, s »« On every lip I seemed to hear the name of Jerusalem said over and over a thousand times ; it was this antiphon, chanted by each in turn, accompanied by a nervous swaying of the body, and with a total disregard of the sur- roundings : We pray Thee have mercy on Zion ! Gather the children of Jerusalem. Haste, haste, Redeemer of Zion ! Speak to the heart of Jerusalem. May beauty and majesty surround Zion ! Ah ! turn Thyself mercifully to Jerusalem. May the Kingdom soon return to Zion ! Comfort those who mourn over Jerusalem. May peace and joy abide with Zion, And the branch (of Jesse) spring up at Jerusalem ! Until sunset these men and women cry out to the stones, beating their breasts, and weep- ing their tears, and some of them, no doubt, A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 79 believing that the Kingdom of David is at hand. There is not in all Jerusalem a scene more thrilling, though it is repeated weekly, and has been a custom from the far-distant day of the destruction of the glorious Temple, and may go on to the end of time; and nowhere have I been more deeply touched than in that narrow court, under the ancient wall of '*the holy and beautiful house, ' ' with the sun sink- ing upon the despair of an outcast people, and the air burdened with their piteous lamenta- tions. V. IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF OUR LORD. It is but an hour and twenty minutes' ride, due south, to Ephratah, which is Bethlehem; but it is a hard ride, over a stony road, in an uneasy saddle, on horseback. You quit the Jaffa Gate full of enthusiasm ; the morning air is fresh and sweet ; flowers bloom by the way- side; lizards slide over the stone walls that hem in great olive orchards on either hand. Sober Syrians greet you with great dignity as they pass on their way to the Holy City. An Arab with a baboon in his arms halts in the road as you approach him, and pipes lustily upon a reed flute; the baboon tumbles over and over in the dust, uttering sharp, shrill cries, half in fear and half in fun. You toss one of the clumsy copper coins of the country, bearing the monogram of the Sultan, to this vagabond pair, and go your way rejoicing. Monasteries dot the hill-tops, each one hav- ing its shrine, its legend, its special grace in the eyes of Latin, Armenian, or Greek. There is the house of Simeon, the just and devout man, unto whom it was revealed that he should not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ; and when he saw the Child Jesus, he 80 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 8i "took Him into his arms, and blessed God and said: 'Now Thou dost dismiss Thy servant, O Lord! according to Thy word, in peace; because mine eyes have seen Thy salva- tion, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples: a light of revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel. ' ' ' Yonder is the Well of the Magi, over which the Star stood; and here the monastery of Mar (Saint) Elias, the site of which is asso- - ciated with the Prophet /^ Elijah. Close ^ at hand is BETHLEHEM GATE. 82 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. well, where the Holy Family quenched their thirst ; and here a field of peas. One day Our Lord, passing this very field, asked the hus- bandman what he was sowing ; a parable might have followed, but the frivolous fellow replied, "Stones." And lo! when the peas came to be gathered, they were all as hard as bullets, and some of them lie in the field to this day. At a fork in the road, where the path diverges to Hebron and the Pools of Siloam, stands a small domed building, that closely resembles a sheik's tomb. Here Christian, Mohammedan, and Jew meet to pay common _ reverence — if rever- ence it can be called which allows a shrine to be scored -«• with -M'^'::? ■ ' nificant names, and left desolate on the bleak hill-top. Three thousand five hun- dred years ago a car- avan following this highway was stayed in the midst of the journey, because Rachel, THE TOMB OF RACHEL. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 83 the younger and fairer wife of Jacob, was seized with birth-pangs. "So Rachel died, and was buried in the highway that leadeth to Ephratah, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob erected a pillar over her sepulchre : this is the pillar of Rachel's monument to this day." A pillar — a very little pillar — is within the crumbling shrine, and the devout rest there a moment on the way to Ephratah. Let us go hence! Over a hill, stony and uninviting, where, from the brow of it, we see a valley tilled and terraced to the summit of its high, steep walls. There the olive and the vine flourish; corn waves in the wind; peace- ful flocks are feeding upon the sunny slopes, while youthful shepherds pipe like young Pans upon rustic reeds fashioned by their own fingers. Upon the edge of this valley hangs a village, with massive walls, and a few towers lifted up against the soft spring sky. The road we are following leads to a gateway, and is last among the narrow streets of the town. This is Bethlehem the Fruitful, whose people had of yore their cornfields, vineyards, flocks, and a famous cheese of their own making; Bethle- hem, under whose walls Ruth lived and loved ; the home of David and Joab; of Asahel and Abishai ; the town that was fortified by Reho- boam, and restored by Justinian, and has again 84 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. and again fought and bled and died, as most of the towns on this side of the sea have done ; and this it will probably continue to do at intervals so long as it is thought worth visiting by a fickle and fretful world. Down in that happy valley, where now the shepherds soothe their flocks with music, those other shepherds were doing the very same thing, in the self-same costume, but turned wonderingly to listen to the chant of the jubi- lant stars, when the Blessed Babe lay in the manger at the farther end of the town. Every man sees, or seems to see, a peculiar beauty in the women of Bethlehem — every man, save only myself. Barring the bluer eyes and the paler skin, what choice is there between women here and women all over Syria? Of course, your carpenter is a spe- cialty in the village ; he knows it full well, and poses just the least little bit in the world; not that he cares overmuch for St. Joseph, or the Blessed Virgin, or the Holy Babe in the Manger — these are old stories with him, and have long since become more or less common- place — but because we all look at him with such eyes as we ride slowly through the unkept streets on our way to the Cradle in the rock, as much as to say, "Did he look like this when he sat at home in peace, awaiting the coming glory of her Child?" A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 85 In this wise you get into Bethlehem, between shops full of palmers' shells, and all the trinkets of travel ; with shopmen plucking you by the skirts, and offering to undersell their fellows ; and with one man, at least, who pro- poses to tattoo your arm in memory of Bethle- hem or Jerusalem. Many are they who submit to the mild tortures of his ingenious needle, and bear away with them a crucifix, or some emblem of the time and place, pricked into their skin forever. The great Church of St. Mary, within which is enshrined the Holy Manger, is divided into three sections, and distributed among the Latins, Armenians, and Turks. It stands at the farther end of the village ; outwardly it is like a fortress ; a little door admits you quite unwillingly. The place has been besieged too often to think of widening its threshold for the love of God. The Turks once moulded its leaden roof into bullets, with which they drove the Christians out of the town. Within, all is tumult and tinsel — ^Vanity Fair housed within walls that are sacred, and should not be thus profaned. You grope down a flight of stairs into the crypt, and find it close, hot, and gaudily decorated in the worst pos- sible taste; there are golden lamps galore, alabaster panels, silken and velvet hangings, and showers of spangles that twinkle dimly in 11 ^ ;4 y t A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 87 the perpetual twilight of the place. But all these do not make a manger that the heart will break over, or eyes grow dim with looking on. Somewhere amid this splendid confusion the Crib that cradled the Divine Child, or at least a portion of that Crib, is hidden away; and when your eyes beg^n to get accustomed to the dusk of the grotto — for the crypt is a grotto in the rock — you search diligently and as reverently as you may from end to end, but are very likely unable to make anything of it; for all is veiled in a wealth of splendid trappings. But, as you pass from comer to comer of the bewildering little nook, a great silver star is suddenly discovered, — a great silver star, sunk in the marble floor, under a low arch of marble. The soft rays of a score of sumptuous lamps fall upon it, and flood the niche with glorious light. You draw near to it, filled with awe and wonderment ; you stoop to read the legend that is engraved about it; an irresistible impulse compels you to your knees, and you prostrate yourself in the radiance of those golden lamps that swing just above your head. In the intense, the exquisite, the unutterable peace that reigns in that hallowed nook, with startled eyes you trace the letters of the legend over and over again, before you begin to comprehend them; and even then it seems 88 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. more a delusion than reality, for the legend runs thus : "HIC DE VIRGINE MARIA JESUS CHRI3TUS NATUS EST." How your heart leaps now with a strange joy! How your cheeks flush and grow pale by turns, and your throat contracts, as if you were seized in the relentless grasp of the Angel of Doubt, who fears you may forget yourself, and soften your heart at last ! After that you wander back into the town, slowly, silently, solemnly, caring to see noth- ing else, and to hear nothing, but wishing only to be left alone with your thoughts ; for you were never before so near conviction. And, as you return to Jerusalem in the gloaming, with the dark hills gathering in about you, you say to yourself — at least I did — "Lord, I believe : help Thou mine unbelief ! ' ' Going to Jericho ! The animals at the gate of our convent in Jerusalem were not impatient on the morning of our departure for the Valley of the Jordan. These pilgrim-ridden beasts are hlasi: they know all the holy shrines by heart, and seem to have lost faith in the identity of most of them. They have wasted their youth and their enthusiasm in the sub- terranean heat of the valley of Sodom and Gomorrah. They know well enough that the way is long and dry, the sim scorching, the provender A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 89 scarce, and the climb out of the waste plains terrible ; and for all this risk of life and limb they get no backsheesh; in fact, they expect nothing but blows from the hour they quit Jerusalem until they are again stalled within its gates, at the close of the third or fourth day. Three empty saddles were reserved for our party, — three saddles that were threadbare and uncomfortable. Our kawwas^ splendidly capar- THE PLAINS OF JERICHO AND THE DEAD SEA. 9© A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. isoned, stood bravely by, awaiting our pleasure, at a good hour in the morning. A mule laden with a pyramid of luggage and camp furniture — tents, kettles, bedding, provisions, and the like — had already gone on in advance, under the guidance of a stout Arab boy, who was expected to make most of the journey on foot. A Bedouin chief — one of those handsomely upholstered fellows that are commonly known as the "Children of the Desert" — sat in his huge saddle, and looked the living image of a wax-work. This gorgeous creature had been engaged at a pretty good figure, expressly to protect us from the charges of wild tribes — the dwellers in the black tents — and was himself one of them. His liberal bribe was to be shared with his swarthy fellows, a species of blackmail which the Turkish Government allows, and even encourages. Without our sheik to ride before us, waving his long spear in the air, and casting from time to time a searching glance over the desert hills, or into the wild ravines of the wilderness, we must surely have fallen by the wayside, and been stripped not only of our superfluous valu- ables, but of every vestige of clothing. This fate befell a party of three that had gone down into the wilderness scarcely a fortnight before our journey, owing to the treachery of the A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 91 sheik, who piloted them only to betray them into the hands of his lawless tribe. We left the gate of the convent, under a heavy shower of benedictions that fell from the lips of our cloistered friends ; passed down the Via Dolorosa on foot — we could not think of riding over that sacred way; — went out at St. Stephen's where we were luted by the Turk ish sentinels; and descended into the edge of the Moslem cemetery, under the city wall. IN THE DESERT. 92 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. Here we mounted, and dropped slowly down the rather steep road into the Valley of Jehosh- aphat, reaching the bed of it in five minutes. Turning to the right, at the Garden of Gethsemane, we followed the ancient road, over the shoulder of Olivet, above the Pool of Siloam. In twenty minutes we sighted a small, mud-colored village. A few trees grow about it; a few children, in rags and tatters, ran out to meet us; a few dogs, stretched in the sun and the dust, lifted their lazy heads and barked faintly, more in sorrow than in anger, and dropped their heads again, to be covered immediately by swai*ms of fat, blue- black flies. Here we drew rein for a time, inasmuch as one of our beasts had already developed symptoms of premature decay — and this was the village of Bethany. Down the road over which we had come, at a moderate pace, we were shown the spot where Judas hanged himself; likewise the site of the withered fig-tree which was cursed by Our Lord. These were regarded in silence, for we were in no mood to question the authenticity of any shrine whatever. Back went the unworthy beast, in charge of our kazuwas, while we sat down in the edge of Bethany to await the arrival of a substitute. Bethany, "the house of poverty," charms one with its undisguised nakedness. It is A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 93 almost as primitive and bare as an Arab vil- lage. It was the haunt of lepers in the days when those wretched outcasts went to and fro among the valleys round about Jerusalem, cry- ing, "Unclean! Unclean!" The house of Simon the Leper was here; you can see a hovel bearing that name to-day, on payment of half a franc. The home of Martha and Mary, and the tomb of Lazarus, are still pointed out with the one hand, while the other is extended in a gesture of silent supplication that is simply irresistible. It was here also — let us think as lightly as we may of the possibility of identifying the exact spot — it was here that the "alabaster box of ointment," "of spikenard, of great value," was broken, and poured upon the head of our divine Lord; and here He spoke those most precious of all words: "I am the Resurrection and the Life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." So passed the time until the arrival of a fresh horse ; a change of saddles all around — for it was discovered that no one was quite satisfied at the start — and a highly successful trial heat of two or three hundred yards drove all thoughts of Bethany and its associations from our minds. Then we hastened into a valley, where the highway is exposed to the assaults of thieves 7 94 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. and robbers ; it has for ages been the haunt of outlaws, and many a pilgrim has been left by the wayside stripped and bleeding, with never so much as a good Samaritan to lend him a helping hand. Here indeed are traces of an ancient khan, the one secure halting place between Jericho and Jerusalem when this road was the chief thoroughfare of the people. Not far distant is located the scene of Our Lord's parable ; the good Samaritan must have lodged in this very khan. The way is dreary and desolate; dust, sun- burnt soil, a treeless range of hills despoiled of every vestige of life by swarms of insects, continually disenchant the eye. The few trees that are found in the Wady-es-Sidr, known as the Zizyphus spina Christie bear the hideous thorns with which Our Lord was crowned. Farther on, deep in the hot ravines, is the wilderness where Elijah was fed by the ravens; where Our Lord fasted, and was tempted by the devil; and where hosts of hermits after- ward sought shelter and seclusion in the in- numerable caves and grottoes that honeycomb those barren hills. So late as 1874 some travelers, climbing among the caverns in the steep face of Jebel Karantel, found two Abyssinian hermits, who are said to live permanently in their eyries, A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 95 feeding only upon herbs, and poring over their Ethiopian breviaries. There is an ancient chapel up yonder, hewn out of the solid rock ; and some of the hermitages are still adorned with rude, half -obliterated frescoes. All these retreats are most difficult of access, and only the clearest-headed and stoutest climbers are able to reach them, with the aid of ladders, ropes, and guides. From the summit of Pisgah, over against Jericho, one obtains the famous view that struck awe to the breast of Balaam, and joy to the heart of the great leader of the children of Israel; for "the Lord showed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan, and all Naphtali; and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh; and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, unto Zoar. " Imagine the speechless delight of the pilgrim who is to-day privileged to Climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er! Thus we cantered down the Jericho road, hour after hour — each hour hotter and drier and dustier than the last. Our kawwas^ having come out of the Holy City, seemed to forget for the time his impressive dignity, and fell to singing Bedawee love-songs at the top of his voice. They must have been as broad as they 96 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. were long, for the sheik and our youthful polyglot — a graduate of the Oriental Academy of Vienna, who spoke, read and wrote no less than nine languages — having knowledge of their meaning, shrieked with laughter, and refused even a modified version when we begged a reason for their mirthful blushes. A large, straggling caravan of poor Russian pilgrims lined the road ; they were going down to bathe in the Jordan. Some rode diminutive donkeys ; one or two had horses, and a servant to bear the burden of the pilgrimage in the shape of dry provender; but the majority of them, men and women, were on foot. These Russians fell upon us tooth and nail, and would have devoured us in our camp, as we were resting half-way on the journey, had they not been driven out by the sheik and our kawwas, who flourished vigorously their lances and glittering sabres. Nor was this our only diversion: my unlucky beast fell twice or thrice in the dirt; but I grew used to those impromptu collapses; they finally became no more of a surprise to me than an "aside" in a melodrama. My last descent was singularly brilliant. Trotting on in advance of the Russians, whom we were sure to pass on the road, though they overtook us at every halt we made, my horse suddenly dropped under me with his nose in A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 97 the dust ; he struggled to recover himself, and I to retain my seat, as is usual under such circumstances ; but the effort was of uncommon violence, and he burst his girth; my saddle flew into fragments ; I passed on over a couple of sharp ears, covered with dust and confusion, and left the ruins in the road to be restored by our guardian attendants, who were skylarking in the rear of the train. The rest of that journey I made in a shat- tered saddle, bound to the beast by a series of strong cords that were clumsily knotted under my left leg; but these episodes are of too frequent occurrence in Oriental travel to excite comment on the spot. It was late in the afternoon when we descended the last steep decline on the border of the plains of Jericho. The heat was intense ; we had come down out of the chilly nights of Jerusalem into a tropical valley, that once boasted palm gardens and palaces the most beautiful in the land. Now it is bare almost to nakedness. A long, winding grove of willows marks the course of a swift river in the distance, — it is the Jordan that flows yonder under those verdant boughs. To the right, at the lower end of the valley, is a sheet of water so exquisitely blue that it often seems as if the eye were piercing a deep purple gorge, and 98 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. plunging into the fathomless depths of a cloudless summer sky; a mirage is not more lovely or more deceptive, for that mirror of paradise is the Dead Salt Sea. But in the fore- ground, the parched plains to the right of us and the left of us, and in the rear — almost as far as the eye can see, the land is the abomina- tion of desolation. With pardonable impatience we endeavor to hasten over the stony plains, among stunted shrubs, through water-courses that have been dry for ages, under the dismantled arches of an antique aqueduct, and from one low ridge to another, hoping always to reach in the next brief charge of our jaded beasts the enticing groves of Jericho; but those green pastures are still miles away. We are deceived by the dry atmosphere, that seems to bring the distance almost within our reach, and our patience is quite spent long before we throw the bridles upon the drooping necks of our horses, when they at once slide down to the ears that sway contentedly over an actual mouthful of juicy grass. While we have been lingering and ex- ploring by the wayside much of the day, our muleteer has pressed forward, and already the white cones of our camp tents appear among the delicious verdure of the trees. All about us there are luxuriant figs, with large, fan-like A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 99 leaves ; tangles of wild grape-vine ; the fragfrant and blooming Acacia Farnesiana, the "Balm of Gilead," and the gum-arabic plant. It is like a hot-house, that grove of Jericho; and no wonder, for we are .-v.^,_.^ nine hun- dred feet below the (^ \ tumbling HABITATION IN JERICHO, lOO A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. waves of the Mediterranean, and not a breath of air is stirring down in that hollow of the earth. The faithful muleteer, whose journey seemed only to have increased his amiability, kindled a brisk fire under the trees, and swung a kettle of beaf-tea in the fork of a sapling that over- hung the coals; two or three Bedouins stole into camp with eggs, fruit, and milk ; and sup- per was soon under way. As night was drawing near, we went out into the squalid village, piloted by the sheik, who was a chief of that tribe of villagers ; and the kawivas, who was, out of Jerusalem, merely a heavy Syrian swell. Snarling dogs received us with a chorus as we struck through a hedge of thorns and cacti ; then half the town sent up a shout of welcome, mingled with reproofs addressed to the clamorous curs that by this time had surrounded us. The dogs were finally beaten off by our attendants ; a few fine- looking, half-naked fellows advanced to meet us, and we entered modern Jericho in solemn state. There are about sixty families, small in stature, slender, under-fed, miserably clad, with dark, sun-burnt skins, and blue lips cov- ered with tattooed tracery, dwelling in the mud huts of the village. The old men go up into the wilderness round about, and lie in wait A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT, loi for pilgrims; the young men lead the flocks over the smoking plains, setting forth at day- break, and returning to the fold at dusk. The women bring water from Elisha's Spring, near which stood the house of Rahab — she who sheltered the spies of Joshua. They walk to and fro in the village streets, these weird women, clad in tattered and soiled robes, but with the pride of sultanas, every one of them ; the children lie with the lazy dogs, and share the vermin. Even the bewitching twilight cannot embel- lish the wretchedness of Jericho; it is more primitive than the poorest Egyptian village that has yet come under my eye. The wasps build better; ground-squirrels and prairie- dogs are much cozier m their little cellars. The only bit of architecture left to modern Jericho is a solitary square tower, which marks the site of Gilgal — if we may abide by the sup- position of a half-dozen experienced guessers. It stands on a slight elevation, somewhat apart from the village, and looks very lonesome indeed, as the twilight settles deep down into this wonderful valley. Half the town followed us back to camp. We sought shelter within our tents, where there were Persian rugs underfoot, striped draperies overhead, curtains festooned about us, and more furniture than we had any use 102 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. for. This is the way one travels in Syria: with a portable hotel at his heels, and a magical larder mysteriously making its appearance at meal hours. Jericho boasts but one remembrancer of her voluptuous past — her maids, lithe, blue-lipped, shrill-voiced, and tireless, who dance under the starlight before the camp so long as the pil- grim suffers them in patience. A few pieces of silver, a flask of wine, and they renew their snake-like posturing, and pitch their fierce cries a note higher. Two of these Ghawazy beguiled us for an hour. Our nargilehs were kindled, and placed upon mats before us; the pliant stem, a fathom long, was gracefully uncoiled and pressed to our expectant lips; then we drew deep sighs of satisfaction from the bowl, where the rose water bubbled audibly, and took on a tinge of amber as the smoke passed through it, losing both heat and oil in the process. Of course we no longer thought of journeying without our pipes, our pouches, and our pastils for keeping the bowl alight, wherewith to complete the earthly happiness which has been grossly misrepresented by the cynics. The camp was thronged with Bedouins, a thievish lot, whose reputation is evil. We sat against our tents, in the starlight and the firelight, on carpets that were like beds of BEDOUIN ENCAMPMENT. down buried in the rich grass that grew within the grove. On either hand squatted the sheik and the kawivas, ever with an eye single to our comfort. A train of shepherd lads, clad in tunics of coarse camel's hair, skipped and clapped their hands wildly, keeping time to a barbaric and monotonous chant. Two dancers, whose dark-blue robes flowed about them, falling from the shoulders to the feet with classic grace, raised their bare arms above their heads, and swung their bodies to and fro with great spirit and astonishing freedom. They seized the sabres of our guards, and whirled the flashing blades in the firelight, cutting the air savagely and seeming to slaugh- 103 I04 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. ter hosts of imaginary innocents, with a fiendish joy that was positively blood-curdling. At intervals these furies threw back their heads, and uttered a long, piercing cry, that pricked the ear like a poniard. They rushed toward us, and, crouching down at our side, stabbed us through the brain with this two- edged shriek. They caught it in their throats, and strove to hold it back; but it struggled, and shook, and forced its way out, thinner and sharper and more exquisitely painful than before. I heard the scream of the sabre- dancers of Jericho long after I had slept. I think it summoned me suddenly out of my dream, for I saw the firelight smoldering near the flap of my tent, and the guards crouching over the embers, while the dew was falling, and the night grew damp and chill. Above us the brilliant stars gloated over the accursed valley that is laid waste forever. It is written of him that shall seek to rebuild the city : ' ' He shall lay the foundations thereof in his first-born, and in his youngest son shall he set up the gates of it. " In the cool of the dawn I fancied that the odors of the balsamic gardens visited us, and I heard leafy whisperings among the boughs of the citron and the date and the pomegranate trees. I seemed to see the blossoming ave- nues that once skirted the royal city — the city A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 105 which Antony gave to Cleopatra, and which she sold for pin money. Herod bought it, and died in it. And just in the edge of the town one Zaccheus climbed into a tree, that his eyes might be- hold his Lord and Master; and he was called down out of the branches, and chosen to be the host of Him who there- after went up out of the doomed city into Jerusalem, to His glorious and triumphant death. To recall all this as I pen it in my window- seat is as pleasant as it is profit- able to the heart a the soul of me; but I A SWORD- DANCER OF JERICHO. THE JORDAN. remember that on the night in question I was uncommonly restless, and in perpetual fear of an inundation of creeping and crawling things. Therefore, O friend! think thrice before you wish your enemy in Jericho! While it was still dark I arose, and stretched myself under the noiseless boughs, heavy with dripping dew; the flashing stars seemed to discharge arrows of light, that slid through the violet-tinted air, and dissolved away in space. Our camp-fire was out; the guards slept audibly, rolled in their ample cloaks of camel's hair striped with brown and buff. The ani- mals alone seemed impatient; not that they were eager to resume a journey, which was no doubt, in their estimation, an altogether unnecessary and inexcusable weariness of the ie6 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 107 flesh, but because the rheumatic chill which was in the air was slowly penetrating the very marrow of their bones. I felt that dawn was fully due, and, yawning to some purpose, the camp awoke ; the guards stirred the dead embers, and blew up a cheer- ful flame ; our mats were spread beside it ; the nargileh was primed, and crowned with a liv- ing coal ; the coffee-pot swung over the blaze, and the muleteer was dispatched into the still slumbering village, nest-hunting, and with a prayer and a backsheesh for a flagon of goat's milk. Long before the day was fairly ushered in, while the East was still faint and pale, and the stars as brilliant as ever, we struck camp, and set out for the banks of the Jordan. It is a little over an hour's ride from Jericho, but we dreaded the heat of the day, and knew that many a scorching mile lay between us and sunset. All Jericho was up betimes, and the whole town cried out with one voice: ''''Backsheesh! backsheesh! yaJi Hadji!'' As we were called Hawadji, or merchant, in Egypt — for there one travels to purchase goods or dispose of them, and is therefore a merchant — so here we were hailed as Hadji, or pilgrim. In the Holy Land all are pilgrims; the distinction is reasonable, and rather flattering to the ear of the devout lo8 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. traveler, until he becomes accustomed to it, and is finally driven mad with the persistency of the beggar-tribes. The trail from Jericho to the ford of the Jordan winds through groves of tamarisk, laurustinus, mimosa, and willow. There is often a broad belt of jungle, through which it is difficult to pass without being seized by the sharp and enormous thorns of the spina Christi; but we could sometimes dash forward through the interstices; and it was exhilarating in the extreme — the brisk gallop in the cool dawn on our way to the sacred stream. I fear we were, one and all, a little impatient at our lack of adventure; thus far, into the bowels of a land overrun by a wild and treacherous race, we had cantered on hour after hour, with no more serious interruption than the frequent stumbling of our beasts, and the destruction of my saddle. Other travelers have been stripped and beaten ; nearly every writer within my knowledge seems to have drawn a bead on the first bush that shook a berry at him, and to have enjoyed to the full the exquisite agony of suspense. I confess, to my utter humiliation at the thought, that from the hour we left Jerusalem until we returned again within her gates, we plodded through the worst districts of the enemy's country without even a hint of danger. The lions of A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 109 Jeremiah have departed; the crocodile is extinct ; there is nothing more to be dreaded at this late day than the mosquito, and he is a bore. In every fresh grove we entered we hoped to come suddenly upon the Jordan; we listened for the ripple of waters, and heard nothing but the hollow echo of thick-falling hoofs as they struck the claj'^-crust of the plains. At last our kawwas gave us a little thrill of emotion by crying out that we were nearing the river. I wondered what it was like — its breadth, its color. It then seemed to me that I had never read anywhere a passage descriptive of the stream. Of course I had, and had forgotten it, as one forgets ninety- nine hundredths of one's general reading; but I could not at the moment picture the stream that we were so soon to see. The trees grew larger and stood apart, stretching out wide branches, that were full of glittering gold as we rode under them; for the sun was just rising over the mountains of Moab, and the hour was glorious beyond com- pare. The grove was like a bit of park land, trimmed, and swept clean; a spot to camp in and luxuriate in, and to love nature in with a hearty and loyal love. A hedge of willows bordered this grove on the farther side; no A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. through it we caught a glimpse of rushing and sparkling waters ; we heard the joyous waves as they danced onward under the canopy of foliage, and the sound can only be compared to the very sparkle of the stream. Yes ! you can actually hear the waters sparkle ; the glee, the freshness, the freedom, and the jubilant life of that tumbling torrent I have never seen equaled elsewhere. This was the swift Jor- dan, hurrying down to smother itself in the gfummy depths of the Dead Sea. We were upon the sloping shore at the most famous ford of the river; it was about thirty yards to the opposite bank. Willows grow close to the water's edge, and shut out the view at the first turn a few rods below the ford. Some of the pendulous boughs trail in the water, and are caught again and again by the tossing waves, and dragged along in the impetuous current ; but they spring back a moment later, and dash the water from their leaves in showers of spray, as they once more begin coquetting with the tide. The Jordan is about the color of a new slate — a slate with the grayish-green cloud still cov- ering its surface. Its waters are opaque, thick- ened with clay, but delicious in temperature, and very refreshing to a pilgrim's palate. Is it any wonder that the river rushes like a mill-race? From its source to its mouth, one A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. m hundred and thirty miles in a bee-line, it descends three thousand feet. Its very name, Yarden^ in Hebrew signifies descent. It twists and turns until it has trebled the natural dis- tance from fountain to sea. It rises in its might, and covers the broad plains, while the flocks and herds that love to feed beside it flee affrighted unto the hills. You cannot bridge it ; often you can not ford it ; thrice were the waters miraculously parted in the old miraculous days, that the prophet might pass over it dryshod. Not far from the spot we stood upon, St. Christopher stemmed the tide, with the Christ-Child in his arms; and at this very point the Savior of men was baptized by St. John the Baptist, after the fast of forty days up in the wilderness yonder. O River, of all rivers most blessed! out of a cloud came the mystical white Dove, and hov- ered above thy shores. If the waters of the Jordan were magfical they could hardly exercise a more potent spell ; instinctively we dr^w apart among the willows, disrobed with no little solemnity, and, with the fresh air of the morning breathing sweetly upon us, we passed into the cleansing flood. There was life in every drop of that water — new life, full of strength and health and hope; it was a bath of the soul ! While we were wading cautiously near the 112 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. shore, and sometimes sitting down on the clay- bottom, to get as much of the water with as little of the current as possible, we were startled by a crashing of underbrush, and the thunder of many feet. I thought of Warbur- ton, Kinglake, Dixon, and all those lucky fel- lows who were continually having hair-breadth escapes when they were in the Holy Land — and I was glad ! Who would not willingly per- ish in the Jordan, if perish he must? Our frightened animals were upon the point of stampeding, and we arose in the midst of the waves to receive the lost tribe that had thus unexpectedly come in from the wilderness. In a moment our enthusiasm was blighted ; out of the bush emerged the Russian pilgrims in hot haste, and made for the shore where we were bathing. Each strove to be the first to plunge into the stream; many of them were already half- undressed, and they all speedily stripped, put on a long white garment — a kind of shroud, which they are to preserve for their burial robe — and, having immersed themselves with more or less decorum, they took it off, folded it carefully, and put it away in their little bun- dles of luggage. We were actually driven from the place by those enthusiasts. A great trial to our polyglot. Then we wandered up-stream, under airy A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. "3 vine-arbors and tangles of bristling thorn, through deep beds of fern, and fragrant, flowering creepers. There was a rich growth of timber, and, reaching an exceedingly wild and picturesque nook in a bend of the river, we took our morning meal. Great cliffs, steep and rugged, towered above us; the stream came gushing out of a gorge, rejoicing that its course was well-nigh run; at any rate, it was rejoicing with exceeding great joy, and never heart-fed artery of the human frame throbbed with more palpable life. Refreshed, stayed with apples which were not of Sodom, comforted with flagons spicy and cool, we once more mounted our long-suffering steeds, and set out on an hour's gallop to the Dead Sea. We passed the Russians, who gave us no very civil greeting; they had donned their earthly garments, and were returning over the old road to Jerusalem. The Dead Sea was nothing to them; each bore in his meagre bundle his death-shroud, damp with Jordan waters; and this was a consolation for them all. They had finished the round of their experiences, they had fought the good fight according to the best of their ability — it was a hard fight in some cases — and now they were ready to begin their homeward journey by land and sea ; a journey long and perilous, and one THE DEAD SEA that is sel-^ '^ dom taken ^^ without almost over- whelming impediments — fever, famine, griev- ous fatigue ; unsheltered from the tempestuous elements in the extremes of heat and cold; making their bed with poverty and vermin, and with death plucking them from the ranks on the highways, or in the midst of the desert wastes. Surely the fervor and the fortitude of these miserable devotees should secure for them the reward they so much covet — Chris- tian burial, and heavenly rest. We reveled in a rapid jaunt over the parched plains, with the fresh air of the morning saluting our nostrils. Much of the way we followed the Jordan bank, and were somewhat shielded by the foliage that fringes it. All this time, though we could have leaped into the stream with a hop, skip, and jump, we caught only occasional glimpses of the rushing waters as they dashed gaily above the steep "4 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 115 clay banks, or flashed for a moment in the green arches of the willow copse. The current was often broken by tiny islets crowded with bushes, and the frequent rapids and abrupt turns in the stream amazed me. I am still puzzled to know how an American expedition, some years ago, succeeded in bringing two metal boats down the river from Tiberias to the Dead Sea. Of course, the intrepid MacGregor, with his little "Rob Roy" canoe, skated over the ripples like a water bug, and came out in book form, with fl)n[ng colors; but the astonishing vitality of the Jordan waters, the jubilant dance of those sparkling cascades, are enough to startle any one but the most ardent and reckless of aquatic sportsmen. Until we are actually upon the shore of the Dead Sea, ploughing through pebbles and soft sand, we strained our eyes in vain toward the valley of death, eager to catch a glimpse of its bitter flood. Our trail wound through a dense growth of cane, oleander, cactus, and tamarisk ; we trotted over the baked soil, Indian file, thinking of the wild boars, wolves, jackals, and leopards that prowl in the vale of Gilgal — the vale that of old was compared to the "Garden of the Lord." We saw nothing, not even a vulture ; though no panorama of the Dead Sea is complete without the shadow of his wings darkening the Ii6 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. canvas ; and probably an angry cloud, of mid- night blackness, out of which tongues of fire dart upon the "submerged cities of sin," will be found brooding over the sombre tableau. Such I used to imagine it, but in its stead I now recall this picture: Two lofty mountain walls; rugged, outlining grotesque, gigantic forms, and stretching far away into the limit- less distance, where they dissolve in a luminous haze; a sea of living sapphire, more lovely than any sea, save that which bathes the enchanted Vesuvian coast; a shelving beach, sparkling with pebbles, silvered with salt crystals, and cushioned with dazzling sand, that seems to creep and scintillate in the intense heat of the noonday sun. A few gaunt and stunted shrubs stand near the forsaken shore; a few broken boughs, white and shining like gnawed bones, bestrew the beach. Not a living thing visible above or about us; not a living or breathing thing within the pellucid chambers of that fatal sea. Oily ripples slide noiselessly over the sands, and sink back again into the depths, as if dragged thither by the contraction of the elastic and unbroken surface of the sea. Shore, sea, and sky are melted into a chimera of unearthly beauty; the sky is not more profoundly blue than the watery abyss that separates those rosy hills to the east and A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 117 west. There is no palpable surface there, no visible division of the elements ; let it be air or water — it might be either — the single impres- sion it conveys to the mind is one of pure color. Only such radiant hills as those that girdle it are worthy of it ; they also are mar- vels of color: pink and pale in the twilight, scarlet in the rising and setting of the sun; they never become commonplace, but change their tints as a live coal changes when the reviv- ing air blows softly upon it. Out of the splendid distance, over the Salt Sea, the Sea of Asphalt, the Lake of Lot — call it by what name you will, it bears all these — over the Eastern Sea of the old prophets, stole the withering breath of a furnace. Our poor beasts sweltered and swayed dizzily ; there was no possible shelter near the shore, for our camp trappings had already gone up into the wilderness. A dip in the glutinous water was all we asked now, and in ten minutes we stood upon the sand, that burnt like a bed of cinders, and were half blinded by the glare that nearly overcame us before we were well out of it. The sea near the plains of the Jordan is shallow. Looking toward the south, the eye is lost in the profound mist that envelops the farther shore. Here are six and forty miles of sky-blue crystal in one solid mass, thirteen Il8 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. hundred feet in depth, and the burnished sur- face of which is thirteen hundred feet below the level of the Mediterranean. This sea is a mystery and a miracle; but Sodom and Gomorrah are not buried under these waves, as many a good man fondly fancies. One must look elsewhere for the sites of those sinful cities — perhaps among the sulphur fields ; the pillars of salt, that are very numerous in that part of the country ; and the asphaltum beds, that generate a heat almost sufficient to consume a fireproof city. Neither fish, shell, nor coral are found here ; sea-fish perish in these waters, because they have been reared on something less than four per cent of salt to ninety-six of water; and here a fourth part of the whole consists of a solution of various salts — chlorides of magne- sium, calcium, sodium, potassium, bromide of potassium, and sulphate of iron. There are fish-bones on the shore, the jetsam of the Jordan; the bitter oil — it is hardly worthy of the name of water — that strangles every living thing to death, and then spews it out to bleach in the sun — the oily sea invites you to its embrace with a siren charm; but you curse her after the first joy is over, for she daubs you with salt and grease. Six million tons of sweet water fall into the Dead Sea daily; six million rise out of it, A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 119 spiritualized, and float over it in nebulous islands of light. On the bosom of the phantom sea sleep shadow-islands, the reflections of these clouds; again and again you ask your- self, are they real, the clouds and the shadows in the sky and sea, or is it all a beautiful illusion? When we waded into the water, we felt the weight of it before we had got knee-deep ; soon we grew buoyant, and kept our balance with some difficulty; a few steps farther, and over we went, heels up, and, to our surprise, heads up likewise. The bath was certainly most refreshing, and the novelty of it not unlike a good-natured, practical joke. The Dead Sea does well enough for a change of medicine — it is as bitter as gall — but I would as soon think of trying to swim in a strong solution of feather-beds. The sun soon drove us to the shore, where we discovered that we were without a drop of fresh water ; we had forgotten to replenish our store while we might have obtained it in abundance at the passage of the Jordan; and when we had clothed ourselves, and struck out for the wilderness, our skins burned like fire, and we shed flakes oi salt, in such profusion that you might easily have mistaken us for lineal descendants of Lot. We crept out of the Valley of the Jordan, swathed to the eyes in cloaks of coarse camel's I20 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. hair. You would have thought us smothering in the voluminous folds of this Bedouin gar- ment; but the truth is, we were comparatively comfortable ; for the sun cannot penetrate the thick web of homely homespun, and 5'our Bedouin scout will brave the fierce furnace- heat of the desert under the shelter and the shadow of this one clumsy robe. We were not long in the bed of the valley before we started the partridge, the wild pigeon, and the hare from cover; and had a shot or two, that, however, brought us nothing more substantial than a sharp echo, shattered to fragments in the gorges of the mountains close at hand. If a curse hangs over the plains of Jericho, withering the rose thereof, and stuffing the plump apples of Sodom with dry dust, it is nothing in compari- iSon with the eternal blight that sears the Judean wilderness as with fire. Never so much as a blade of A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 121 grass pricks through the parched and gaping crust, that crumbles under the hoof like plaster. Mountains of chalk, sand, gypsum, chert, and tufa, gashed and scarred, and cut down to the quick by fierce winter torrents ; tumbled hither and thither by unrecorded but terrible convul- sions of nature; deserted by every lovely form of life; the haunt of the fox, the vulture, the hyena, the leopard, and the wolf; with the snake coiling in the sun, and hissing in the shadow of the caves that everywhere perforate the abrupt walls of the gorges — this is the wilderness of St. John the Baptist! Here he fed on locusts and wild honey, and dwelt apart among the caves, clad in a shirt of camel's hair — even the garment that is worn to-day by the children of the children of the children of Esau, the Bedouin. All through the desolate land of Judea the wandering tribes of the desert pitch their black tents. They nourish their scanty flocks upon such edible litter as falls in the track of the caravans ; stealing noiselessly in and out among the stifling ravines; creeping slowly and sus- piciously over the ridges ; watching every rock that is big enough to shelter a robber, and keeping a nervous finger on the lock of an antique musket, with a barrel seven feet long. Up, up, and still up, we climb. Flat step- ping-stones afford us insecure footing ; for they 122 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. are as smooth as glass, and our animals are beginning to flag in the relentless heat. It is not only the flame of the sun that pours down upon us from dawn to dark, but the oven-like crust under foot sends up a glow so intense that objects at a little distance seem to dance in it; and the eyes, shut against the garish light, sting with a sharp agony. We followed the painful track of the Kedron. Had the valley, or gap, been burned out by a torrent of fire, instead of gutted by water, it would scarcely have presented a more forbid- ding spectacle. We descended into the fright- ful gorge, and followed the dry bed of the stream for some distance; we turned to the right and to the left, and often lost sight of one another for a few moments, during which time we began to realize the unspeakable loneliness of the wilderness. The fissure of the Kedron, half a thousand feet in depth, and very narrow, has been the haunt of hermits and pious solitaries for many centuries. They have followed closely in the footsteps of St. John, and to-day the monks of Mar Saba are almost as frugal and as fervent as the young man who went down to Jericho to proclaim the Word, more than eighteen hun- dred years ago. As we came upon the heights, we twice or thrice caught glimpses of the Dead Sea far A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 123 below us; glimpses that were like visions of paradise — fatal to the joy of him that is denied admittance. Then came a distant view of a small tomb on the summit of a ridge above the Kedron, — a spot very sacred in the eyes of the Mohammedans; for it is their tomb of Moses, and Moses is much to them. Christians question the authenticity of this site, and endeavor to prove their case by the geography of Holy Writ ; but of the two supposed sites of the Prophet's tomb, this of the Mohammedans is the more popular. The Bedouins! By and by, our track — if so shadowy a course may be called even a track — lay over a ridge, and through a long stretch of desert, that glowed like the disk of a highly- burnished shield. The air was charged with flame; it flashed in our faces like powder; it shone through out shut eyelids — a crimson light, that blinded us, and half consumed our eyes in their sockets. Dark-smoked glasses afforded little relief; and through the clouded glass I saw afar off, in the midst of this blazing desert, a cluster of black tents stretched lightly over slender poles, like so many spider webs, coated thick with dust. These tents afforded meagre shelter, for they were without sides, and of scanty com- pass, being indeed little better than large para- sols, planted in the sand — but how we eyed them ! 124 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. It was the Bedouin at home, the pest of the wilderness ; for he alone is the unconquerable master of all this desolation. He knows the undiscovered chambers beneath the cliffs, out of the glare of day, beside the living spring, where he may gather his tribe together, and baffle the most vigilant pursuers. He can starve you out of his realm; choke or poison the springs; assault you in narrow passes, where escape is utterly impossible. He sits in the fierce heat, and braves the terrible light with the sharp, unwinking eye of the eagle; he basks in the sun — he feeds on it, and on little else, save air and goat's milk. He is a salamander and a fatalist, and bears a charmed life. I do not find his grave by the wayside — this fire-fed Bedouin. I half believe that he is hatched in the hot sand, like an ostrich ; that he lives a thousand years on the chameleon's dish, and is then consumed away — being at white heat — and out of his ashes springs his phoenix son. Such is the dweller in the black tents, — the mute nomadian, whose cat-like tread upon the desert leaves no track behind. Son of the sun, wedded to the daughter of the moon, begetting sons as slim and as swift-footed as lizards, and holding forever this unlovely wilderness of fire and famine. He is the sum and substance of A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 125 the tribe of Esau ; for Esau was a hairy man, and as unpopular as a goat. Instinctively we drew closer to one another. The muleteer had dropped behind; it was as much as he could do to save himself and his beast from running down-hill in a river of sweat; he, however, quickened his pace, and beat the pack-animal roundly, so as to keep within hailing distance so long as the black tents were visible. We saw nothing of the Bedouins. They may have been absent on a foraging expedi- tion; or were possibly sleeping, after having gorged themselves on a leek and a chip of black bread, picked up in the wake of the last caravan; but, more likely, they thought our party too unpromising to make an attack worth their while ; and, then, our sheik was a favorite among them, for he levied large assessments on the pilgrims in the wilderness, and shared it with all these prowlers. We groped our way through the dazzling desert, up a long, dispiriting hill beyond it, and came at last to a well famous for being the only one on the route. We were parched to the core, and hastened to approach this fountain of refreshment. Alas! we found a cistern — it was not a spring — standing level with the road, so that one might easily walk into it on a dark night. It was a dozen feet 126 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. deep, half filled with debris blown in from the highway, and holding about twelve inches of thick, green-mantled water, stirred from time to time by sluggish newts. It was probably in such a pit as this that Joseph was hidden by his brethren; for such water-holds are scat- tered throughout the country, and many of them are dry. This was our oasis! We had been looking forward to it for an almost endless hour. Now, indeed, our muleteer was far down the mountain trail; once out of the range of the black tents, he devoted himself to perspiration and profanity, and his delay was provoking us past belief. He had the wine, the bread and the cheese, and all that maketh glad the heart, and softeneth the weariness of the desert. It was then we panted for the water-brooks ; it was then, also, that we reviled the muleteer and all his ancestors; but we suddenly grew close-mouthed, for fear of forgetting ourselves in the way — the very way over which St. John the Baptist must have passed again and again. Ah! only to have heard "the voice of one cry- ing in the wilderness" at that hour, whatever may have been his cry. We were sick of the heat and the silence; anhungered and athirst; the way was long and wild, and every moment we grew worse and worse, both man and beast. He came at last, the laggard ! bringing sal va- A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 127 tion with him, in the shape of wine heated hot in the bottle, and cakes of cheese reduced to an oily paste. We ate and drank with grati- tude and avidity, and then we lay down in the shadow of a great rock, in a weary land, and slept for full twenty minutes. The rock was red-hot ; the shadow was so narrow and so thin that there was scarcely enough of it to go round; but we shared it equally, and were saved. When we resumed our journey, afternoon shadows — real shadows, hanging like long cloaks from the shoulders of the mountains — thrilled us with a perceptible change in the temperature as we crept under their hems. Once only we met signs of life after we broke camp on the mountain. A dozen storks were sailing among the chasms about us ; and sailing so leisurely that it seemed as if the wind were wafting them whither it listed, and that they were as unmindful of their course as so many balloons might have been. Sometimes a group of them settled awkwardly on the rocks in front of us ; and waited for us to come up to them, when they would suddenly leap into the air, and slide away on heavy and powerful wings. I was so delighted to meet with these fine old birds — birds of good omen and of agreeable disposition — that I halted in the trail, and lost 128 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. sight of the caravan, that had rounded a point some distance in advance. The trail was poor enough, and so indistinct that I found it diffi- cult to pick my way alone among the loose stones, and over the slippery, water-worn ter- races of the mountain. At this moment I came abruptly face to face with three young Bedouins, who were on foot, — each with his long carbine balanced back of his neck, and his two arms, stretched wide as if in crucifixion, spread upon barrel and butt. They sauntered listlessly forward, while a delicious chill ran through me; I knew that these very fellows had again and again turned swiftly upon the unsuspecting traveler, dragged him from the saddle, stripped him naked, and then beaten and left him by the wayside to his fate. The stripping alone, at such a time, and in such a place, would result in tortures indescribable ; for the sun is merci- A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 129 less. Death would very likely follow such an exposure, as it not unfrequently does when animals are urged on in the hottest hours of the day. Those Bedouins looked at me with a stare that was as meaningless as the face of a stone god. They stood stock-still in the path, com- pelling me to pick my way around them; when I had passed they swung on their to watch me ; I turned also, riveting my eyes upon them, because I was com- pelled to — more in a kind of fasci- nation *= than in fear ; but my horse kept his steady pace up the path, and we were still eyeing one another, when I was suddenly startled by the arrival of our sheik, who came dashing down upon me in splendid style, and, placing himself between me and the Bedouins, fol- lowed me imtil we reached BEDOUINS. I30 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. the caravan, which had come to a full stop, and was much concerned at my delay. I wonder if most of the brilliant adventures with which the Syrian traveler enlivens his pages are as tame in reality as my own hair- breadth escape? When we reached the deep gorge of the Kedron it was flooded with shadows, for the hour was late ; out of these shadows we rode to the verge of a cliff, and saw in the delicious twilight the wonderful walls of Mar Saba. Our tents were pitched in a shallow ravine, sj just above the upper wall of It he convent; for, as no ladies are permitted to pass even the outer gate, it became neces- to provide accommoda- tions for our fairer friends within sound of the hyena's laugh — he didn't laugh at them, however — and the piercing cry of the jackal. There is a tower stand- ing lonely, somewhat '^ apart from the convent, where ladies find excel- lent shel- AN ENTRANCE AT MAR SABA. A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 131 ter, if they prefer it to the cleaner and more cosy tents. From the battlements of the tower the inquisitive gfu^st, if there be any such, may look over the high walls into the labyrinths of grottoes, galleries and gardens that are clinging to the face of the cliff below. Of course, we of the sterner sex found no diffi- culty in penetrating even to the very bowels of this remarkable refuge of the world-weary. There is nothing just like it elsewhere; the gorge of the Kedron, a thousand feet or more in depth, looks as if it had been opened through miraculous agency, and might shut again some day. It is a peep between the pages of a mystical volume — a glimpse only, that leaves one more mystified than ever. The gorge is but a few yards broad at the bottom, and one might easily cast a stone to the opposite bluff while perched upon its dizzy brink. Down one side of this gorge, over a surface that is almost perpendicular, are dis- tributed the numerous — I had almost said innumerable — chapels, courts, chambers, gal- leries, and a thousand architectural surprises and eccentricities, such as one would imagine most likely to grow wild, or go wild, in the wilderness. A village turned upon end, and plastered to the face of a high wall, would not astonish us more. They have built, like swallows, in 132 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. a sea-cliff, these monks of the desert; they have fortified themselves, that the world, the flesh, and the devil may not prevail against them; they have set tip a high watch-tower in their very midst, where a keen-eyed Brother is always upon the look-out to g^ve warning of the approach of the enemy. They have cut themselves off from the bed of the gorge by a clean leap of six hundred feet ; the upper walls of their hermitages over- lap the heights above the gorge. There is nothing higher than they: they actually seem to be hangfing in the air over that frightful chasm ; yet there they are so much at their ease that they may come out of their tiny cells in the cliff onto tiny balconies, or porches, and sit and brood like martins. They disappear in one part of the precipice, and presently come to the surface in a new place; they drop from terrace to terrace, and climb from floor to roof, from roof to tower, back and forth continually, like white mice. One is never weary of watching them, for they are never all at rest ; it is as if they had the power of flj^ng with invisible wings ; for how- ever they get from one martin-box to another is past finding out. The truth is, the whole face of the cliff is like an ant-hill ; there are hidden galleries and secret passages that connect every part of the A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 133 vast settlement; yet no one but a monk who has studied the chart can possibly make his way through the labyrinthine mazes, or, once lost in the bewildering intricacies of the mon- astery, hope to find his way out again without a guide. A letter of introduction is necessary to secure admission to Mar Saba, The Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem provides it. Having reached the monastery, we ring at the great gate on the top of the cliff. Some one looks out of the high tower, and takes an observa- tion ; we give a shout of friendly greeting, and wave our letter of introduction in the air. At this stage of the proceedings a huge key is dropped into the inner court, where an attend- ant, who is stationed within, and himself apparently under lock and key, takes it, and opens the outer gate — a few inches only ; here he examines our passport — the letter of the Patriarch — and eyeing us suspiciously, lest peradventure we might be women in disguise, he somewhat ungraciously admits us. Another gate still shuts us out from the con- vent, and our Bedouin is not permitted to come even thus far, for the place has on several occasions been the scene of hideous slaughter. The outer gate having been secured against the ladies, and our unbelieving retinue, we are at last given welcome by a monk, who is to pilot us over the face of the cliff, and show us how, like the birds, they all live at Mar ^^.^ Saba. What a climb ^^'^^^'^i^ it was ! — down ^\\y stairs, fifty of them, into a stone court with a chapel; up stairs into another chapel, sunk into the solid rock, all ablaze with golden lamps, and sweet with incense; for the bones of six hundred martyrs lie under the pavement, _^ and part of them you t^^^ see plainly through J ^= f ^. a heavy grating when the monk thrusts a flam- ing taper in amongst them. These martyrs were all her- mits, and lived alone i n peace with the swal- lows, until the Persian hordes THE PALM OF MAR SABA. 134 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 135 fell upon them, slaughtered them to a man, and cast their bodies to the jackals in the abyss below. Bridges leap from chamber to chamber, spanning fearful depths ; tunnels dart through the cliffs, and in the sides of the tunnels are windows cut through the solid rock, looking out upon the most desolate spot in the world ; and there are little doors — oh! so many of them — opening out of cells just big enough to creep into, and curl up in a cosy heap. Mar Saba, or St. Sabas, Abbott, was born in Cappadocia in the 5th century. He renounced the world in his eighth year, and after ten years of monastic life, which he found too lax for his ascetic soul, he fled to this laura of St. Euthymius, in the Kedron gorge; but the elder Saint thought the youth "too young to continue in his laura with the anchorites, so extreme a solitude being only proper for the most perfect ; for a laura consisted of a cluster of separate cells, or hermitages, in the desert," and this was one of the wildest and most secluded of them all. By and by the lad accomplished his aim, and this amazing hive of monks grew out of the enthusiasm of the young Saint, who long before his death had achieved the fame he despised, and was sur- rounded by hosts of holy hermits, who emu- lated their spiritual head in the severity and simplicity of their lives. 136 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. The Rev. Alban Butler tells this episode in the life of the Saint : He had once gone into a cave to pray. "It happened to be the den of a huge lion. At midnight the beast came in, and finding his guest, dared not to touch him, but, taking him gently by his garments, plucked him as if it had been to draw him out. The Saint was noways affrighted or troubled, but began leisurely, and with much devotion, to recite aloud the midnight Psalms. The lion went out, and, when the holy man had finished Matins, came in again, and pulled him by the skirts of his clothes, as he had done before. The Saint spoke to the beast, and said the place was big enough to hold them both. The lion at these words departed, and returned no more." Fourteen centuries later it was my singular happiness to hear this very legend from the lips of the monk of the laura, as we sat together in the cave of St. Sabas and the lion. There is a solitary palm tree reigning over one of the small garden terraces, and this palm is said to have been planted by St. Sabas him- self. The monk-guide assured me that such was the case ; then he took me up stairs and down stairs, through trap-doors into subter- ranean passages full of surprises and queer smells ; he gave me rakee (the strong drink of the East), and a pipe on one of the airy bal- A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. 137 conies overhanging the abyss ; and brought me rosaries — Greek rosaries — and crucifixes carved by the monks from Oriental wood, and perfumed with fragrant gums. He sold us all as much as he could, and then begged a little more for charity — ^but he had well earned all he got from our caravan; for the Peris, who were disconsolate without the gates of this Greek Eden, with its one lonely and lovely palm tree, discouraged the spirit of generosity which the ex- traordinary place awakened. How marvelous it is ! Even in the blazing sunshine it is a tangle of shadows that hang in long fringes from the cornice of the cliff. By twilight it is swal- lowed up in a purple flood, through which the stars fall like sparkling dew, — those showers of restless stars that are forever darting through the skies of the Orient! When the moon is full. Mar Saba is spiritualized CONVENT OF MAR SABA. 138 A CRUISE UNDER THE CRESCENT. wrapped in a silence as profound as death ; it is like a vision of that heavenly home which the devotee, hopeless of finding among the habita- tions of men, is driven to seek even in the uttermost solitude of the desert. We are but three hours' ride from Jerusalem, and thither bound ; grave disappointments are to follow, %> but at Mar Saba we were filled with delight; and when we took our last ,