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PALESTINE 
 
 Scale of Miles 
 
 Til*' n 
 
 The liiu 
 
 U;l lino from Jeru^aliW .Worth murU^ flu- route foUoyvrd in the pre^en journey 
 'LrnZi/Zazullio.:^ the up,no:uh from the South in eonun-j: up from the Ue^-rt. 
 
AMONG THE HOLY HILLS 
 
 BY HENKY M. FIELD, D.D. 
 
 AUTHOK OF " FKOM THE LAKES OF KILLAENEY TO THE GOLDEN HOEN, 
 "FEOM EGYPT TO JAPAN," AND " ON THE DESEET," 
 
 NEW YOEK 
 CHABLES SCKIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1884 
 
lOAN STACIC 
 
 COPTEIGHT, 1883, BY 
 CHARLES SOEIBNER'S SONS. 
 

 So i^arfe ^optinSt IBM,, %3LM,, 
 
 PHTLOSOPHEE AND TEACHEE, GUZDE AND FRIEND, 
 
 THESE PAGES AEE INSCRIBED 
 
 IN LOVING AND GEATEFUIi REMEMBRANCE OP 
 
 THE LESSONS OF WISDOM FROM HIS LIPS 
 
 LONG TEARS AGO. 
 
 SCO 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 / That so many have been over the ground before, is 
 no reason why the latest comer should not bring home 
 a handful of wild flowers from Palestine. There is enough 
 for all : let each one gather what he will. He who is 
 tempted and led on by these lighter attractions, may find 
 something more and better, as nature leads uj^ to life, and 
 a small mountain country appears as the scene of a great 
 history, and the cradle of a religion. The beauty of nature 
 comes and goes ; it changes with the seasons, with the early 
 and the latter rains ; but the charm of sacred association 
 does not fade with the falling leaf or the departing year. 
 The interest of this above aU other lands, is that here was 
 spent the most wonderful life that ever was lived on the 
 earth. To know that Ufe, we would trace it from its 
 beginning, among its native hiUs. Such a pui'pose has 
 given direction to the present journey, which follows closely 
 in the footsteps of our Lord, not merely in the streets of 
 Jerusalem, but through Samaria and Galilee, along the lake 
 shore and on the mountain side. Studying the history 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 amid the scenes in wliich it transpired, it is a constant sur- 
 prise and deKght to see how the narrative fits into the very- 
 landscape, and is reflected in it, as trees on the bank of a 
 river are reflected in its bosom. To give fi'eshness to the 
 scene, is to give reahty to the event ; faith comes by sight, 
 and as sight grows clearer, faith grows stronger. And so 
 at every step the sacred story becomes more real and more 
 true. 
 
 If the descriptions in these pages often digress into 
 reflections, the writer cannot help it : he must speak of 
 that which is uppermost in his thoughts. One presence 
 is everywhere, and we walk in its Hght. At the same time 
 he has tried not to moralize too much ; but to enliven his 
 soberness with narrative and incident, so that the journey 
 may not seem long, and that whoever keeps him company 
 may not grow weary by the way. Thus riding side by 
 side among the holy hills, we may pass the time not un- 
 pleasantly, and gain what is, after all, the best fruit of 
 travel — some real knowledge, a clearer understanding, and 
 a stronger faith.\ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. EouND THE Walls : The Towees and Bulwaeks 9 
 
 II. Jeeusalem in Holt Week. The Aementan Patel&.ech. 
 
 Celebeation of the Passovee. The Mosque of Omae. 23 
 
 III. The Chuech of the Holy Sepulchee. Feet Washing 
 
 BY THE GeEEK PaTEIAECH 35 
 
 IV. The Geeek Fiee, supposed to be lighted by the 
 
 Descent of the Holy Ghost 44 
 
 V. A Solitaey Walk feom Gethsemane to Calvaey 53 
 
 VI. At the Ceoss and the Sepulchee 62 
 
 VII. Feom Jeeusalem to Bethel, Shiloh, and Jacob's Well. 72 
 VIII. Nablous. a Day that was not all Sunshine. A Tale 
 
 of Robbeey and of Tuekish Justice 88 
 
 IX. To Samaeia and Jenin. Falling again among Thieves. 102 
 
 X. A Eide Ovee the Plain of Esdeaelon Ill 
 
 XI. Nazaeeth. Kenan's Life of Jesus. Can that Life be 
 
 Explained as in the Oedee of Natuee ? 121 
 
 XII. To Mount Caemel. Incuesions of the Bedaween. 
 
 Peojected Railway oe Canal in Palestine 134 
 
 XIII. To TiBEEiAS. The Seemon on the Mount : Is it 
 
 Philosophy, oe Genius, oe Divinity ? 151 
 
 XIV. Bound the Sea of Galilee 166 
 
 XV. To C^saeea-Philippi, and Bound Mount Heemon 178 
 
 XVI. The City of Damascus 190 
 
 XVII. Ovee Anti-Lebanon. The Mountain Valleys 204 
 
 XVIII. Sabbath Musings in the Euins of Baalbec 214 
 
 XIX. Valley of Coele-Syeia. Ceossing Mount Lebanon.. .. 224 
 
 XX. Beieut. Ameeica in the East 231 / 
 
AMONG THE HOLY HILLS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ROUND THE WALLS THE TOWERS AND BULWARKS. 
 
 /We had come up to Jerusalem at the time of the Pass- 
 over. The city was filled with pilgrims ; there was the stir 
 and sound of moving to and fro, the buzz and hum of a 
 multitude, such as might have been heard two thousand 
 years ago, when the tribes came up to the solemn feasts. 
 And yet — it was not the Jerusalem of my dreams I I had 
 looked for a city that even in hoary age had some remains 
 of its former magnificence. I had looked also for some- 
 thing that should remind me of the ancient people and the 
 ancient worship— venerable rabbis, with long gray beards 
 and flowing robes, chanting the Psalms of David. But I 
 found Httle to admire either in the city or its inhabitants. 
 The city is indeed picturesque in situation, standing on its 
 mountain height ; and when seen from a distance, with its 
 walls and towers, its appearance is very striking. This 
 rouses the traveller, as he approaches it, to an attitude of 
 expectation, from which he is rudely awakened as he enters 
 within the walls, where the first impression is disappoint- 
 ing, and even painful. It has neither the beauty of a mod- 
 ern city, nor the sombre stateHness of an ancient one. In 
 its interior it has all the unsightly features of an Oriental 
 
10 ROUND THE WALLS. 
 
 town— narrow streets, in which there is no distinction of 
 the roadway for beasts of burden and the path for human 
 feet, but men and women are jostled and crowded to the 
 wall by horses and asses and camels. As the traveller picks 
 his way over the rough stones, through the deep mire, while 
 every open door that permits a glance within uncovers a 
 picture of squalid wretchedness, he feels indeed that this 
 is not " Jerusalem the Golden." 
 
 So wide is the gulf between the Jerusalem that now is 
 and that which we have had in our imaginings, that many 
 prefer not to visit it lest the painful sight should disturb 
 their devout meditations. Mr. Spurgeon, whom I met at 
 Mentone on my way to the East, expressed a positive re- 
 luctance to making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He 
 seemed to fear that the sight of so much that was far from 
 sacred, would jar painfully on his cherished impressions of 
 the land where our Saviour lived and died. Such appre- 
 hensions would dissuade a traveller from going to Jerusa- 
 lem, and even if he had been there, would almost discourage 
 him from attempting to describe it. Possibly we may find 
 something of a different character. Let us see. \ 
 
 Jerusalem is a city set on a hill, or rather an elevated 
 plateau, half a mile above the level of the Mediterranean, 
 and so cut off by deep ravines from the surrounding coun- 
 try, that it is like a bold headland jutting into the sea, and 
 joined to the mainland only on its northwestern side. This 
 neck of land is not very large to be the site of a capital- 
 only about a thousand acres in aU, and to this must be 
 confined the city that is built upon it. "Jerusalem is 
 builded as a city that is compact together." It is " com- 
 pact " because it has no room to expand. In the days of 
 its prosperity the whole plateau was densely populated. 
 In the time of Christ the walls were a little more than four 
 miles in extent ; they are now but two and a half. But if 
 
THE TOWERS AND BULWARKS. 11 
 
 the city be of so limited extent, so much the easier to en- 
 compass it on every side, and take in its proportions, and 
 define its character. 
 
 To get a general impression of Jerusalem, there is but 
 one way: "Walk about Zion, and go round about her." 
 This direction we have obeyed literally, making the circuit 
 of the city without and within, and going round on the top 
 of the waUs. Dr. Post of Beirut, who was my companion 
 on the Desert, and up to the gates of Jerusalem, kindly 
 offered to be my guide through the streets of the holy 
 city. / 
 
 Our first excursion was outside the walls, and the first 
 natm-al feature of the environs we explored, was the Valley 
 of Hinnom ! This was beginning low enough by a descent 
 into Gehenna ! Going out by the Jaffa Gate, we turned 
 to the left and descended the slope, verging away to the 
 opposite side of the valley, so that we might stand " over 
 against the city," at a sufficient distance to obtain a gen- 
 eral view. Here we stood facing Mount Zion, its bold 
 height rising directly before us. It is a very ancient part 
 of Jerusalem, for though it bears the name of the City 
 of David, it was a city, a fortified town or castle, long 
 before David was bom. Four hundred years after Joshua 
 crossed the Jordan, and the tribes were settled in different 
 parts of Canaan, Jerusalem was still held by the Jebusites, 
 who driven from the valleys, retreated to this mountain 
 fastness, from which they defied the Hebrew invaders. 
 The capture of this stronghold was the great military 
 achievement of Joab, after which David transferred his 
 seat of government from Hebron to Jerusalem. A Httle 
 below the brow of yonder hill is still pointed out a wall 
 that is supposed to have been built by the Jebusites, and 
 close within the wall are old cisterns for securing rain 
 water, which supplied the garrison. / 
 
12 KOUND THE WALLS. 
 
 Descending into the valley, we are carried back to a 
 point in history still more remote, when this deep yet wide 
 space — hke the Campus Martins at Eome — was the scene 
 of feasts and games and of an idolatrous festival which 
 was a carnival of superstition and ferocity, for here the 
 Canaanites celebrated the worship of Moloch by human 
 sacrifices — causing their sons and daughters to pass 
 through the fire. With such associations it is not strange 
 that the Valley of Hinnom had an evil name, as of a place 
 accursed. When the Israelites became masters of Jerusa- 
 lem, it was made a receptacle for the ofi:al of the city which 
 was cast foiih to be burned, so that, as its smoke was con- 
 tinually ascending, it was not an unfit type of the place of 
 torment. Looking down upon it is the Hill of Evil Coun- 
 sel, on which stood, according to tradition, the house of 
 Caiaphas, to which Judas came to offer the betrayal of 
 Christ. Thus the very air seemed to whisper of treachery 
 and blood. At the present day the valley speaks not of 
 crime so much as of misery, for it is one of the places near 
 Jerusalem where lepers sit by the wayside begging, the 
 most wretched objects ever seen in human form, with 
 bodies dying inch by inch and dropping away, while they 
 stretch out their mutilated hands for alms. ( 
 
 Leaving the sulphurous atmosphere which may easily 
 be imagined to float over the Valley of Hinnom, as if its 
 fires were stiU burning, we pass farther round the base of 
 Zion, and come suddenly upon a fountain of bright and 
 sparkling water. This is Siloam, gushing out of the rock 
 at the foot of the Hill of Ophel, which was once included 
 within the walls. The sjDring flows in such volume as to 
 fill a large " Pool," which supplies the village of Siloam, 
 and to which the women come with their pitchers, and 
 even wash their clothes by the side of the spacious reser- 
 voir. Beyond this Pool of Siloam is another spring called 
 
THE TOWERS AND BULWARKS. 13 
 
 St. Mary's Well, wliicli is fed from tlie same soui-ce, 
 exploration having shown them to be connected, although 
 the distance under the rock is a third of a mile. Indeed, 
 adventurous travellers, who do not mind stooping or even 
 prostration, can make the passage. We prefen-ed to leave 
 it to the more supple and more nimble Arabs, who crouch 
 like cats, and creep and crawl anywhere, under ground or 
 above ground, in the heaii; of the earth, or up the side of 
 a mountain, and for whom it is a common feat to go in at 
 one entrance and come out at the other. Even while we 
 were at the Pool, a swarthy fellow shot into the darkness, 
 and a few minutes later, as we stood at St. Mary's Well, he 
 reappeared from the bowels of the earth, wet and dripping. 
 This perpetual spring, rising in the very heart of Jerusa- 
 lem, in the furthest recesses of its rocky bed, and having 
 this double outflow, must have been, when included within 
 the walls, of priceless value to the ancient inhabitants, 
 who in case of siege might otherwise have perished by 
 a water famine. To this the Psalmist refers with pious 
 gratitude when he says, "There is a river the streams 
 whereof make glad the city of God, the holy place of the 
 tabernacles of the Most High." 
 
 In making the circuit of the city, another feature comes 
 into view, which it is necessary to understand in order to 
 have a clear idea of the topography of Jerusalem. At the 
 point where the Spring of Siloam issues fi'om the rock, is a 
 ravine descending into the valley, which cuts through the 
 rocky plateau on which the city stands. This is the Tyro- 
 poean valley, which, running north and south, cleaves the 
 city in twain, dividing Mount Zion fi'om Mount Moriah, 
 a gorge or chasm once spanned, though at some distance 
 farther up the TjTopoean, by a massive bridge, of which 
 the huge base-stones stiU remain, over which King Solomon 
 could pass from his palace to the Temple. 
 
14 ROUND THE WALLS. 
 
 And now we sweep round the base of the hill, and 
 leave the Valley of Hinnom to enter the VaUey of Jehosha- 
 phat, or of the Kedron — the Black VaUey, as the latter 
 name imports, from the rugged and rocky sides which 
 frown over the depth below. The point where the two 
 valleys meet is the lowest depression in the circuit of 
 Jerusalem, being six hundred and seventy feet lower than 
 the highest point on Mount Zion. 
 
 As we pass up the VaUey of the Kedron, we draw 
 under the shadow (for it is afternoon, and the sun is in the 
 west) of Mount Moriah, and of the walls which enclose the 
 Temple area. Here they rise to their greatest height : for 
 as Moriah descends by a sudden and almost precipitous 
 slope, foundations had to be laid far below in the solid 
 rock, and the superstructure carried far above, to bring 
 this angle of the area on a level with the rest of the 
 plateau on which the Temple stood. Looking upward, a 
 traveller who has come from Britain may be pardoned if 
 he feels a tinge of regret at the absence of a feature which 
 would give at least greater picturesqueness to the fortress- 
 like enclosure — a wish that it were mantled with the ivy 
 which gives such beauty to the castle walls and cathedral 
 towers of England. But it stands bare and naked under 
 the burning Eastern sun. Its very height is masked, 
 and rendered less imposing, by the ruin that has accumu- 
 lated round its base, which now lies buried under the 
 debris of ages, the wreck of the many sieges in which the 
 ancient walls were thrown do^vn. Explorers have exca- 
 vated to a depth sufficient to determine that the wall at 
 the southeastern corner was over a hundred and fifty feet 
 high I This was the pinnacle of the Temple, from which 
 our Lord was tempted to cast himself down. Throned on 
 such a height rose the Temple of Solomon, with its 
 colamns of precious stones and its roof of gold. From 
 
THE TOWERS AXD BULWARKS. 15 
 
 its position, it could be seen at a great distance. The men 
 of Gad and of Keuben, who dwelt on the other side of the 
 Jordan and of the Dead Sea, as they went up to the top of 
 the mountains of Moab, saw the rising sun reflected back 
 from it ; and when the sun went down, the reflection from 
 the other side of the city shone far away over the hiUs 
 towards the Western Sea. ' 
 
 But it was not the Temple alone to which the Jew 
 turned with wonder and with pride. In the time of 
 Solomon, when the Hebrew monarchy attained its greatest 
 splendor, Jerusalem was a city of palaces. As Mount 
 Moriah was covered with the Temple, so Mount Zion was 
 covered with palaces, which from its greater height — 
 over a hundred feet above Monah — ^were seen at a still 
 greater distance, and must have shown, in the light of the 
 rising or the setting sun, with dazzling splendor. 
 
 And now we discover where John found the imagery for 
 the glowing pictures in the Apocalypse of the Mount Zion 
 that is above, the New Jerusalem, that to his em-aptured 
 vision seemed to come down from God out of heaven. 
 Those shining walls, that caught the first glimpses of the 
 dawn, and on which lingered the last rays of evening 
 twihght, may well have seemed no unworthy type of the 
 heavenly battlements ; the Gate Beautiful of the gates of 
 pearl ; and the whole majestic Temple to be outshone 
 only by that Celestial City where there is "no temple," and 
 which " has no need of the sun or of the moon to shine in 
 it : for the gloiy of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is 
 the light thereof." 
 
 As we sauntered along the slopes of the vaUey, we found 
 that we were walking among the graves of the dead, many 
 of whom, Israelites in race, had Hved and perhaps died far 
 from the land of their fathers, but had desired to be bui'ied 
 under the waUs of Jerusalem, 
 
16 ROUND THE WALLS. 
 
 From St. Stephen's gate we descended to the brook 
 Kedron, and crossing it, climbed the Mount of OHycs, 
 which commands the best view of Jerusalem ; and return- 
 ing along the northern wall, past the Damascus gate, after 
 an excursion of four hours, reentered the city by the Jaffa 
 Gate. 
 
 Another day we made the circuit of the city on the top 
 of the walls. Dr. Post leading the way with the same 
 elastic step with which he had climbed Mount Serbal. 
 From this point of vantage we looked down into the inte- 
 rior of the city, and saw how it was divided by the Tyro- 
 poean VaUey, not only into halves but into quarters, by side 
 ravines j)rojecting east and west, so that Jerusalem may 
 be said to stand on four — as Eome stands on seven — hills. 
 
 Resting on the tower over the Damascus gate, we 
 looked northward over the more elevated ground on that 
 side of the city which has furnished the only approach for 
 all the besiegers and conquerors of Jerusalem. There 
 spread far and wide the hosts of Nebuchadnezzar, who 
 captured the city and carried away the inhabitants to 
 Babylon. The seventy years of the captivity is one of the 
 sad and melancholy periods of Jewish history, so pathet- 
 ically and mournfully depicted in the Lamentations of 
 Jeremiah. From this long exile the descendants of those 
 who had been carried away captive, returned to rebuild the 
 walls of Jerusalem. Centuries afterwards the city opened 
 its gates to Alexander the Great. On the same high 
 ground Titus marshalled the Roman legions, and advanced 
 his battering-rams to crush the walls. Later stiU it became 
 the battle-ground of the Saracens and the Crusaders — of 
 Saladin and Coeur de Lion. So does history pass before 
 us as we stand on the towers of Jerusalem. 
 
 Recalling this long succession of calamities, I wondered 
 not that the Israehtes had such downcast and haggard 
 
THE TOWERS AND BULWARKS. 17 
 
 faces. They seemed to caiTy on tlieir very foreheads all 
 the oxDpressions and cruelties which have smitten their 
 race. And when I went to the Place of Wailing, and saw 
 men and women, the old and the young, putting their heads 
 against the great foundation-stones of the Temple area, and 
 bemoaning in bitter accents the fate of their city— "O God, 
 the heathen are come into thine inheritance ! " — in their 
 cries and tears I seemed to see the woes of all the ages 
 coming upon this generation. 
 
 Contempt ceases where pity begins, and pity soon 
 changes to respect. No one can see the bowed heads and 
 weeping eyes, and hear the sobbings which many try in 
 vain to repress, without a great tenderness of feeling for 
 the unhappy Israelites, who after wandering up and down 
 in the earth, have come back to Jerusalem to die. 
 
 Naj^ the very city itself takes on a new aspect, as it 
 tells in its ruins the history of ages of destruction. I have 
 spoken of the mire of the streets, which is at times almost 
 unfathomable. But there is a history in the very soil 
 beneath our feet, when we recall how it has been fought 
 for by the Maccabees and other brave defenders ; 
 " Heroes have perished here ; 
 'Tis on their dust ye tread." ■' 
 
 Indeed the history of Jerusalem is written in its streets, 
 from the days of Uzziah the King, when it was shaken 
 with an earthquake, which cleft its rocky foundations, and 
 shattered its massive walls. And what battles have raged 
 round these walls ! Twenty-seven times has the city been be- 
 sieged ! Babylonian and Ass}T:ian and Egyptian in turn have 
 come up against it, to be followed by Koman and Saracen, 
 Crusader and Tui'k. who, one and all, have laid waste the 
 holy city, till more than once it has seemed as if there was 
 not left one stone upon another that was not thro^Ti down. 
 Thus Jerusalem has been literally " laid on heaps," till the 
 
18 ROUND THE WALLS. 
 
 ancient city has been buried as completely as Pompeii. As 
 in Rome there is a city under the present city, so there are 
 eight Jerusalems, lying one upon another, like the strata of 
 the rock-ribbed hills. They are reckoned thus : 1, the city 
 of the Jebusites ; 2, of Solomon ; 3, of Nehemiah ; 4, of 
 Herod, which was destroyed in the siege by Titus in the 
 year 70 ; 5, in the year 130 the Emperor Hadrian began to 
 rebuild it, and it continued under the Roman dominion to 
 the time of the Mohammedan conquest ; 6, the early Mos- 
 lem ; 7, the city of the Crusaders ; 8, the later Moslem, 
 which still stands ingloriously on the wreck and ruin of all 
 that have preceded it. In the year 1244 the city was be- 
 sieged for the last time. Jn walking about, we often passed 
 under arches hardly above our heads, which was explained 
 by the fact that the foundations were far down in the earth : 
 arches and walls are buried undergi'ound. Forty feet be- 
 neath the Via Dolorosa are Roman pavements, over which 
 passed the victorious legions nearly two thousand years ago. 
 Thus from the very beginning changes have been going on ; 
 from century to century the city has been reconstructed by 
 new creations, and buried again by new destructions, till 
 the dust of Jerusalem is thick with the ashes of a hundred 
 generations. Reflections like these cause us to lose the 
 feeling of disgust in a melancholy musing and mourning 
 over its decay. Its very wretchedness becomes — I will not 
 say picturesque : that is too light a word — but mournfully 
 suggestive, as we think of the tale it tells. " How doth the 
 city sit solitary that was full of people ! how is she become 
 as a widow ! she that was great among the nations ! " With 
 the crown taken from her head, and no son to restore her 
 fallen greatness, it may be said of her even more than of 
 Rome : 
 
 ' ' The Niobe of nations, there she stands, 
 Crownless and childless in her voiceless woe ! "/ 
 
THE TOWERS AND BULWARKS. 19 
 
 As we came back from our excursions day after day, I 
 would trace them out on a map, and try to put in order 
 what we had seen, so as to reconstruct the holy city. Our 
 liotel — the Mediterranean — furnished a good point of 
 observation. As it stood on Mount Zion — think of a hotel 
 on Mount Zion ! — it looked down upon Mount Moriah, and 
 into the Temple area, and indeed commanded a view of a 
 large part of the city and of the surrounding country. 
 From the upper story, which was open at one end like a 
 veranda, I could toss a biscuit into the Pool of Hezekiah, 
 which that wise Hebrew king constructed in the heart of 
 the city to supply it with water, as Solomon had constructed 
 the larger Pools which bear his name beyond Bethlehem. 
 A little farther away is a vast enclosure which belongs to 
 the Knights of St. John, and tells of the short century- 
 only eighty-eight years — when the Crusaders were masters 
 of Jerusalem. Turning to the east, one ^jould take in at 
 the same moment the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where 
 Christian pilgrims were kneehng at their sacred shrines, 
 and the Mosque of Omar, where devout Moslems were 
 bowing, with their faces towards Mecca. Indeed this 
 outlook commands a wider sweep, not only to the Mount 
 of Olives, but far away to the mountains of Moab on the 
 other side of the Dead Sea. 
 
 But we have a nearer object to attract the eye, and 
 touch the imagination. In front of the hotel is an open 
 place, on one side of which stands the Tower of David- 
 one of the oldest and best-preserved monuments in Jerusa-. 
 lem. It is a massive structure, with waUs of great strength 
 and height, as if designed to be at once a watch-tower to 
 overlook the city, and a castle for refuge and defence. It 
 is still called the Citadel, and is garrisoned by soldiers. 
 Though built by Herod, it bears the name of the Hebrew 
 King, from an old tradition that David's Palace stood on 
 
20 ROUND THE WALLS. 
 
 tliis very spot. Here was an association to kindle our 
 musings, as we sat on the balcony of our room in tlie 
 evening, and looked up to the gray old walls. The Pass- 
 over is always at the time of the fuU moon, which was now 
 flooding the holy city, and giving a strange, almost ghostly, 
 appearance to its melancholy ruins. As I sat there in the 
 moonlight, there was something in the scene " so sad and 
 fair "—in the clouds that flew across the sk^^ and the night 
 wind that moaned around the ancient Tower, and died 
 away along the city walls— that set my fancies in motion. 
 Like Bunyan, " I dreamed a dream." Scenes of the past 
 rose before me Hke visions of the night, and floated away 
 over the Jud'ean hiUs. Kings and prophets seemed to 
 rise out of their sepulchres ; and of all the Hebrew kings, 
 he who reigned in yonder palace drew most near. Here 
 he gave laws to his people, and .perhaps as a warrior gave 
 commands to hi^ armies. From this royal house, it may 
 be, he fled at the conspiracy of Absalom, and here retui'ned, 
 victoiious but desolate. Here— perhaps on such a night as 
 this— he looked out of the windows of his palace and sang 
 "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firma- 
 ment showeth his handiwork." " "When I consider thy 
 heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars 
 which thou hast ordained, what is man that thou art 
 mindful of him, and the son of man that thou visitest 
 him?" Here perhaps he breathed his last, and when 
 dying gave to Solomon a charge which might serve ^or aU 
 kings that should ever reign on the eaxth : " My son, know 
 thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect 
 heart and with a willing mind. ... If thou seek him, he 
 will be found of thee ; but if thou forsake him, he will cast 
 thee off forever." 
 
 Such associations might be multiplied to any extent. 
 If any should question the site of the Palace of David, none 
 
THE TOWERS AND BULWARKS. 21 
 
 will dispute that the Tower was built by Herod, and that if 
 its upper part has been destroyed and rebuilt, at least the 
 massive foundation-stones, to a height of some forty feet, 
 were laid by the King who rebuilt the Temple, and whose 
 pride was in rearing towers and palaces. It was standing 
 when Christ walked these streets : he saw it a thousand 
 times. It is quite probable that he passed it the last night 
 that he spent on earth, on his way to the Coenaculum, 
 which is farther west on Mount Zion, where he kept the 
 Passover with his disciples. The Paschal moon was shin- 
 ing then, as it is shining now, and perhaps he paused 
 before this Tower to look up to it for the last time. The 
 very next day a Koman soldier standing on its top, and 
 looking down on a scene that was going on just without 
 the city walls, might have been a spectator of the Crucifix- 
 ion. He woiild have felt creeping over him a shuddering 
 horror at the mysterious darkening of the earth and sky, 
 and felt the massive foundations under him reeling with 
 the shock of the earthquake, when the rocks were rent and 
 the graves were opened. In the destruction of Jerusalem 
 this Tower was spared by Titus, and stood almost alone 
 amid the mighty ruin ; and so it has remained, sometimes 
 dismantled and broken, yet reconstructed ; and still it 
 stands, and may stand until it sees our Lord coming again 
 in the clouds of Heaven. 
 
 With such memories revived by walks about Jerusalem, 
 and meditations in it, how can any one feel that a visit to 
 it in any wise robs it of its charm ? Nay, rather that 
 which was a dream is made a reality ; by famiUarizing 
 one's eyes with sacred localities, sacred events are recalled ; 
 the life of our Divine Master becomes more real as we visit 
 the city where he lived and died ; as we pass over the very 
 paths once trodden by his blessed feet ; as we go to the 
 Mount of Olives, where he so often knelt and prayed ; as 
 
22 ROUND THE AVALLS. 
 
 coming from Bethany, we pause at the spot where, " when 
 he was come near, he beheld the city and wept over it." 
 These are helps, not hindrances, to our faith ; they make 
 the New Testament, in many portions of it, a new book to 
 us. This it is to tread the streets of Jerusalem, until one 
 comes to find pleasure in her stones, because out of these 
 stones he can reconstruct the ancient city, from which came 
 Religion, flowing, like Siloam, out of the heart of the rock, 
 and, like that, making glad the city of God, the holy place 
 of the tabernacles of the Most High. Here we trace to its 
 source much that enters into modern history and modem 
 civilization. A city that has such mighty memories is not 
 dead, but Hving ; her very woes touch the hearts and the 
 imaginations of men ; and thus she has a power over the 
 world even in her ruins. 
 
CHAPTER n. 
 
 JERUSALEM IN HOLY WEEK THE ARMENIAN PATRI- 
 
 AECH — JEWS AND MOSLEMS. 
 
 / For the greater part of tlie year Jerusalem is pro- 
 nounced by most trayellers " insufferably dull." Coming 
 from the life and gayety of European capitals, they are 
 oppressed by the utter stagnation of a city where there is 
 no business or commercial life ; where there is not a single 
 place of amusement, not a theatre, nor even a club ; where 
 the mail comes but once a week, and there is not even a 
 newspaper, except a little sheet in Hebrew — a language 
 with which they are not supposed to be familiar. 
 
 But once in the year the sleepy old town awakes from 
 its long hibernation, as strangers from afar, from beyond 
 the seas, come riding over the hills, and throng in at the 
 Jaffa Gate. The Holy Week brings some ten thousand 
 pilgrims, the greater part of whom find lodging in the 
 numerous convents, while Enghshmen and Americans seek 
 more comfortable quarters in the hotels. When we were 
 at the Jordan, at the place of the Baptism, we met an Eng- 
 lish party, and to our inquiry if there were any strangers 
 in Jerusalem, a bold Briton answered in language more 
 emphatic than elegant, that " it was ram-jammed fuU I " 
 
24 JERUSALEM IN HOLY WEEK. 
 
 However, tliroiigli the kind offices of the American Consul, 
 we found rooms at the Mediterranean Hotel, where we 
 were made very comfortable for the eleven days of our 
 stay. 
 
 In the divisions of the " Ecclesiastical Year," of course 
 the first place is given to Holy Week, which is set apart to 
 commemorate the events of our Saviour's last week on 
 earth : — ^beginning with Palm Sunday, which recalls his 
 entrance into Jerusalem, when the people spread palm 
 branches in the way — including his last supper, betrayal, 
 and crucifixion, his " death and burial " — and ending with 
 Easter, which witnessed his resurrection. This last event 
 is the consummation of our Lord's earthly existence, and 
 of course it is celebrated, with aU the events leading up to 
 it, in churches in which there is a great deal of ceremony, 
 with every art to make it impressive. It was to witness 
 this display, in the very cradle of our religion, that we had 
 timed our visit to Jeinisalem.^ 
 
 But if one would see the fuU pomp of religious cere- 
 monial, he must go to Rome ; or rather, he should have 
 gone in the old days, when the Pope was not " a prisoner," 
 and could appear in the great pageants at the head of his 
 court. It was thirty-four years ago — in 1848, the year of 
 the Revolutions — that I made my first visit to Home, and 
 spent the Holy Week, and never shall I forget with what 
 pomp it was ushered in. On Palm Sunday the Pope was 
 to bless palms that were to be distributed to the faithful, 
 for which he appeared in state. I was standing in the 
 Piazza of St. Peter's, in a great crowd, when the Supreme 
 Pontiff rode *up in a coach with six horses, followed by 
 a body of cavalry. [What a contrast to his Divine 
 Master when he came from Bethany, descending the slope 
 of the Mount of Olives, with no brilliant cortege, but simply 
 riding on an ass — the meek and humble Prince of Peace !] 
 
JERUSALEM IN ?IOLY ^VEEK. 25 
 
 He was carried into St. Peter's on men's shoulclers, and 
 after a while carried out, and then bronght in again, 
 and then canied out again ! The Cardi^ials advanced 
 to the foot of the throne, aiTayed in costly silks and 
 furs, and knelt to kiss his robe and receive the palms 
 which he blessed ; while the organ pealed, and the Pope's 
 choir, the finest in Europe, was heard through every arch 
 and aisle. At one point, when the voices sank low, and 
 seemed as if wailing over the Saviour's dying agony, the 
 Swiss Guards fell on their knees, bringing down their 
 arms on the pavement so that the vast Cathedral rang 
 again. The effect may be imagined of a scene so grand 
 and mournful, with " the vast and wondrous dome " above, 
 and the kneeling crowds below, hushed in breathless still- 
 ness, while over them swept the wailing voices. Such a 
 scene could not be witnessed anywhere on earth except in 
 Eome — in St. Peter's, the grandest temple ever reared by 
 human hands. 
 
 To such pomp as this poor Jerusalem can make no 
 pretension. And yet in one point it has the advantage of 
 Eome, in that " it has not the very images of the things, 
 but the things themselves." One is near, if not upon, the 
 very spot where the events transpired ; and in so far the 
 power of association comes in strongly to aid and stimulate 
 religious devotion./ 
 
 Desiring to witness at least the beginning of the im- 
 posing seiwices of Holy Week, I was in the Church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre at six o'clock on the morning of Palm 
 Sunday. The Yice-Consul, with his cavass, led the way to 
 the first gallery, from which I could look down on the 
 whole scene. All the Christian communions in Jerusalem 
 were present in gallant array — Latins and Greeks and Ar- 
 menians, Syi'ians and Copts — bishops and priests bearing 
 palm branches, such as were spread under the Master's 
 
26 PALM SUNDAY. 
 
 feet as he rode down yonder liill from Bethany on his 
 entry into Jerusalem. To make a more perfect repre- 
 sentation of the original scene, the children sang hosan- 
 nas. After the palm branches had been duly blessed, they 
 were passed about in the church and up into the gallery, 
 not only to the comfort of true believers, but for all who 
 chose to purchase. An hour or two of this marching 
 and chanting and incensing, sufficed for me, though the 
 processions and benedictions were not ended till noon. 
 But so soon as my curiosity was satisfied, I left the church 
 for another sei-vice, which seemed to me more in harmony 
 with the spirit of devotion. The Protestant community 
 in Jerusalem is a very small one, yet to-day there were 
 strangers from all parts of the eartli, among whom were 
 many of our own faith and language, with whom it was 
 delightful to walk to the house of God in company. The 
 English church on Mount Zion was filled, as it is only in 
 the Holy Week, by a congregation that included repre- 
 sentatives even from the antipodes. A bishop from New 
 Zealand preached from the text "And when he was come 
 near, he beheld the city, and wept over it." In the front 
 pew, under the i^ulpit, sat the young English princes, who, 
 having made the circuit of the globe, had returned by way 
 of the Bed Sea, and after a short stay in Egypt, had come 
 to Jerusalem. The elder, the heii- to the throne, who 
 in his name, Albert Victor, unites the names of both 
 grandfather and grandmother, is tall and slender, with 
 very much the figure that his father had when he visited 
 America in 1860. It was pleasant to see him joining in 
 the singing, and responding reverently in the service, 
 and thus conforming, at least in outward respect, to the 
 worship of the Chui'ch of England, of which he is to be 
 the royal head. The younger. Prince George of Wales, 
 was looking about, as if he were more interested in the 
 
THE ARMENIAN PATRIARCH. 27 
 
 congregation than in the service. He is a mere boy, but 
 is a great favorite with his shipmates for his brightness and 
 ga^^ety. When the sei-vice was ended, the piinces went out 
 first. They were very simply dressed, with small, slouched 
 hats, and pantaloons turned up to keep them out of the 
 mud. So far as one could judge from merely seeing them 
 in pubhc, they seemed to be good specimens of Young 
 England, and certainly produced a favorable impression 
 on others than their own countrymen by their absence of 
 pretension and unaffected simplicity. / 
 
 With Monday we were rested, and in a mood for seeing 
 the sights of Jerusalem, or attending the services of Holy 
 Week. Our first visit was to the Armenian Convent. The 
 principal buildings of the modern Jerusalem are those 
 erected by different Christian communions for their breth- 
 ren in the holy city. If there are no princes in Jerusalem, 
 the patriarchs may be considered as princes, and the con- 
 vents are their palaces. The Ai-menian Convent covers 
 many acres of ground, like one of the great ecclesiastical 
 houses of Europe ; and includes within its ample waUs not 
 only the Convent proper, or Monasteiy, but the residence 
 of the patriarch, and of the attending priests, who form 
 around him a kind of ecclesiastical court, and also places 
 for the reception and entertainment of the annual pil- 
 grims. Dr. Post wished to take me to the Convent to 
 introduce me to the Patriarch, of whom he spoke as not 
 only an acquaintance, but a personal fi'iend, which I could 
 well beheve when I saw the way in which they fell into 
 each other's arms and embraced in true Oriental style. 
 The Patriarch Hves in a good deal of state, as becomes one 
 whose authority extends over one of the largest Christian 
 bodies in the East. As he did not speak English nor 
 French, nor even Arabic, but only Turkish and Ai'menian, 
 we had to converse with him thi'ough an interpreter. But 
 
28 THE ARMENIAN PATRIARCH. 
 
 no barrier of language could intercept the warmth of his 
 welcome. He was extremely courteous, and offered us the 
 hospitality of his Convent, wishing us to be his guests for 
 weeks. It was almost embarrassing to receive this press.- 
 ing invitation fi'om one whose graciousness of manner was 
 heightened by a charming presence, which made it hardly 
 possible to refuse him. I felt that he was made to be an 
 ecclesiastical dignitary. His form was portly ; his face be- 
 nignant ; nor could there be a finer figure-head to appear 
 in great ecclesiastical ceremonies, or to lead the processions 
 in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I cannot say that 
 " On his brow deliberation sat, 
 And public care " : / 
 
 for indeed he seemed to have an easy time of it, while 
 he was receiving the homage of the faithful, and bestow- 
 ing his benediction. As we rose to take leave, he ac- 
 companied us into the church, and had its treasures, in- 
 cluding his own jewels and costly vestments, brought out 
 for our inspection ; and when we took our departure, he 
 sprinkled us, acco2;ding to an Oriental custom, with rose ■ 
 water. Hardly had we retui'ned to our hotel before a 
 monk followed us, bearing a tray loaded with sweetmeats ! 
 "What a dainty thing it is to be a Patriarch, scattering 
 smiles, distributing bon-bons, and sprinkling rose-water! 
 But I would not give the impression that he has no higher 
 ideas of his holy office. His courtesy does not prevent 
 his being a zealous bisho^D of his large flock. It is said 
 that he preaches to the pilgrims of his creed, who come to 
 Jerusalem (sometimes two or three thousand take up their 
 quarters in the Convent) with great plainness and fidelity. 
 Thus his character commands respect, while his welcome 
 was of the sort that leaves a grateful feeling behind it. 
 He seemed to wish to keep me in memory, by requesting 
 my photograph, which of course I blushingly declined. 
 
THE JEWS IN JERUSALEir. 29 
 
 Dr. Post, however, appropriated it, and sent it to him ; 
 and he retui'ned the comphment by sending me his own 
 handsome face, with his autograph, and a rosary which he 
 had blessed, and which I keep, not for any mysterious 
 virtue that it possesses, but as a memento of an accom- 
 pHshed dignitary of his Church. 
 
 Jemsalem is a city of many races and many rehgions. 
 If the degree of devotion is to be judged by the multi- 
 phcity of faiths and forms of worship, it must take high 
 rank among cities, because of the rehgions v/liich ic em- 
 braces in such number and variety. Here one may find 
 the Jew in his synagogue, and the Moslem in his mosquo ; 
 w^hile the Christian community is divided between Latins 
 and Greeks, Armenians, Syrians, and Copts, the increase 
 to the population from travellers only adding to the con- 
 fusion, as it is made up of representatives of all the sects 
 of Europe and America. / 
 
 Yet though the forms of rehgion be so many, Judaism 
 is the mother of them all, and it is largely represented in its 
 ancient capital. One quarter of the city is set apart for the 
 Jews, who come here from all parts of the world, and form 
 a community by themselves. Generally they are poor, and 
 are supported by the liberality of their richer brethren in 
 Europe. They crowd together in the nan-ovr streets on 
 Mount Zion, and may easily be distinguished, not only by 
 theu' pecuHar physiogTiomies, but by theu^ long gabardines 
 and fur caps, from under which corkscrew curls, falling 
 down their cheeks, give their faces a feminine and affected 
 appearance. But one cannot look without respect on the 
 representatives of an ancient race and ancient worship. 
 I was in a reverential mood when I was presented to the 
 Chief Rabbi, a venerable old gentleman, though not wear- 
 ing the majestic aii% any more than the sweeping robes, of 
 the JIi>-h Priest of the ancient Temple. We visited a 
 
30 CELEBRATION OF THE PASSOVER. 
 
 mimber of the synagogues, some of whicli are very ancient. 
 One or two of them may have been standing — or their 
 predecessors on the same sites — in the time of our Savioui'. 
 It was not the hour of service, and but a few Israehtes 
 were present, who were sitting about tables reading out of 
 the books of the law, or of Ezra or Nehemiah, or other 
 prophets. Such is theii' reverence for the law that they 
 have the Ten Commandments engraved on silver, and bind 
 it as a frontlet on their foreheads, or on a silver scroll and 
 embedded in the door-posts, which they Idss as they pass, 
 as a devout Catholic dips his fingers in holy water. But I 
 did not observe in the synagogues the silent prayer and 
 appearance of deep devotion which one so often sees in 
 Catholic churches and cathedrals. 
 
 Still more interesting was it to witness the celebration 
 of the Passover, for which we were taken to one of the 
 chief hospitals in Jerusalem. Of course the Hebrews 
 whom we saw here were not of the highest social position ; 
 they were all poor, or aged, or infirm, of a condition which 
 made them fit inmates of an hospital. But their poverty 
 did not abate their national pride or religious zeal, or the 
 fervor with which they entered into the ceremony. One 
 who has anything of the historical spiiit cannot fail to 
 be interested in a festival which dates back, not like our 
 Thanksgiving, to the landing of the Pilgrims less than 
 three centuries ago, but to an event more than thirty 
 centuries old — to that fatal night when the angel of the 
 Lord passed through the land of Egypt and smote the 
 first-bom, and the Israelites, who sprinkled blood on the 
 door-posts of their houses, were passed by. 
 
 The attendants were grouped about a long table, at 
 which they read the account. of the original Passover, and 
 passages from the Psalms and the Prophets. I observed 
 that they did not read in Hebrew, but in Spanish, and 
 
CELEBRATION OF THE PASSOVER. 31 
 
 learned that a large part of tlie Jews in Jerusalem are 
 from Spain, wlio with the Jews from Germany and 
 Poland, make up the gi'eat body of their race who are 
 here. The Spanish Jews are of a superior class to the 
 wretched wanderers from the 'North of Europe, who have 
 foimd their way back to Jerusalem to die. Their reading 
 was relieved at intervals by partaking of a repast set 
 before them, which, though it was of a rude simplicity, 
 (unleavened bread and a platter of bitter herbs,) as if 
 prepared in haste for an army in flight, was ample in 
 quantity, and of which they partook with hearty appetites, 
 especially as this frugal fare was made palatable by abun- 
 dant potations, with which it is a custom, 
 
 " More honored in the breach than the observance," 
 
 to refresh themselves very freely. A Catholic priest once 
 quoted to me with relish the sajdng of a devout Irishman, 
 who wished to express his gi*atitude for the mode of 
 observance of one of the appointed fasts of the Church : 
 " Blessin's on the Council o* Trint, that it put the fastin' 
 on the mate, an' not on the dhrink ! " These pious Hebrews 
 seemed to be of the same mind, so that I was not much 
 surprised to be told that the feast not seldom ended — as 
 what are profanely called Christian feasts and festivals some- 
 times end — by leaving the celebrants helpless on the floor ! 
 But one does not feel like bringing an accusation 
 against a people that are so poor and vsretched. In visit- 
 ing their hospitals and their schools, I was glad to see that 
 they were not forgotten by the rich Hebrew bankers and 
 other wealthy Jews in the capitals of Europe. The Koths- 
 childs and Sir Moses Montefiore especially, have distin- 
 guished themselves by their generous liberality towards 
 their brethren. One must rejoice in anything thus done 
 for a people and a city which are dear alike to every Jewish 
 and every Christian heart throughout the world. 
 
32 THE MOSQUE OF OMAR. 
 
 The Moslem worship is more imposing than the Jewish. 
 I can never hear unmoved the cry of the muezzin from the 
 minaret which calls the faithful to prayer, or see the robed 
 figures turned towards Mecca, and bowed to the earth. 
 The Moslems are masters of Jerusalem, and of all the 
 sacred sites of the Holy City. Even the place where stood 
 the Temple of Solomon, is now occupied by the Mosque of 
 Omar. It is but a few years since aU access was sternly 
 forbidden ; no Christian could enter except at the risk of 
 his life. When Dean Stanley first visited Jerusalem, he 
 could see into the Temple area only from the Mount of 
 Olives, or from some other high point which looked down 
 upon it. But even though he had to sketch from a distance, 
 yet never was the picture more perfectly drawn than by 
 the hand of this consummate artist. Speaking of the 
 Mosque of Omar, and the effect of grandeur it gives to 
 Jerusalem, he says : / ' 
 
 " From whatever point that graceful dome, with its beautiful 
 precinct, emerges to view, it at once dignifies the whole city. And 
 when from Olivet, or from the Governor's house, or from the north- 
 east wall, you see the platform on which it stands, it is a scene 
 hardly to be surpassed. A dome graceful as that of St. Peter's, 
 though of course on a far smaller scale, rising from an elabo- 
 rately-finished circular edifice; this edifice raised on a square 
 marble platform, rising on the highest ridge of a green slope, 
 which descends from it north, south, and east, to the walls sur- 
 rounding the whole enclosure ; platform and enclosure diversified 
 by lesser domes and fountains, by cypresses and olives and planes 
 and palms; the whole as secluded and quiet as the interior of 
 some college or cathedral garden, only enlivened by the white 
 figures of veiled women stealing like ghosts up and down the 
 green slope, or by the turbaned heads bowed low in the various 
 niches for prayer. This is the Mosque of Omar ; the Haram es- 
 Sherif, ' the noble sanctuary ' ; the second most sacred spot in the 
 Mahometan world— that is, the next after Mecca ; the second most 
 beautiful mosque — that is, the next after Cordova."/ 
 
 This picture so beautiful lie could only see at a distance ; 
 
THE MOSQUE OF OMAR. 33 
 
 this enclosui-e he was not permitted to enter. But he partly 
 consoles himself for it by saying : 
 
 " I for one felt almost disposed to console myself for the exclu- 
 sion by the additional interest which the sight derives from the 
 knowledge that no European foot, except by stealth or favor, had 
 ever trodden within these precincts since the Crusaders were driven 
 out, and that their deep seclusion was as real as it appeared. It 
 needed no sight of the daggers of the black ders'ishes, who stand 
 at the gate, to tell you that the Mosque was undisturbed and invi- 
 olably sacred." / 
 
 But now the daggers of the black dervishes are 
 sheathed, and though there may be scowling faces and 
 muttered curses, still the gates which for six centuries 
 were shut in the face of the whole Christian world, are 
 thrown open, and we may enter the precincts which till 
 recently were " inviolably sacred." We did not have to 
 disguise oui'selves in Oriental costume, but wore our 
 customary Frank dress, and walked in openly, " no man 
 forbidding us " ; and when we came to the Mosque itself, 
 not only were the doors open, but the old custodian, with 
 backsheesh in his eye, received us with a suppleness 
 and graciousness that were truly Oriental. Here is that 
 famous rock, covered by the dome of the Mosque of 
 Omar, which has so puzzled antiquarians — whether it be 
 the rock on which Abraham bound Isaac for the sacrifice, 
 or the threshing-floor of Oman the Jebusite, where the 
 plague was stayed. Fortunately the identity of the 
 Temple area has never been doubted. True, there is a 
 question as to the exact spot in it on which stood the 
 Temple of Solomon, some placing it on the very site of the 
 Mosque of Omar, others on that of the Mosque of Aksa in 
 one corner of the large enclosure. There is also a ques- 
 tion whether any part of the substructure remains fi'om 
 the time of Solomon. Sir Charles Wilson, who made the 
 Ordnance Survey, the results of which have been pub- 
 
34 STONES OF THE TEMPLE. 
 
 lished by the English Government in several large 
 volumes, is now in Jerusalem, and tells me that he can 
 find nothing earlier than the time of Herod. Captain 
 Warren, however, gives an earlier date to the lower 
 courses of Cyclopean masonry in the eastern wall, and to 
 the huge foundation-stones at Robinson's Arch and the 
 Place of Wailing, which he assigns to the time of Solomon. 
 But even if they were of the architecture of Herod, they 
 were standing in the time of Christ, so that the Temple 
 area was substantially then as now. All this ground was 
 familiar to the eyes and to the feet of our Lord. Here he 
 stood and cried (perhaps seeing the libations of water 
 brought in a golden vessel from Siloam), "If any man 
 thirst, let him come unto me and drink." Here was one 
 of the strong positions in the defence of Jerusalem, into 
 which burst the army of Titus on the fearful night that the 
 city was taken, when a soldier, in violation of the express 
 order of his commander, threw a torch into the Temple ; 
 and suddenly the captured city and the encircling hills, 
 and the sky itself, were iUumined by the mighty conflagra- 
 tion. In that flame and smoke went down the hope of 
 Israel for centuries, and perhaps for millenniums. 
 
 But the great interest of Jerusalem during the Holy 
 Week, is neither Jewish nor Moslem, but Christian. While 
 we have been making the circuit of the walls, or visiting 
 mosques or synagogues, the crowd of pilgrims within the 
 gates has been, day after day, surging towards one sacred 
 spot — ^the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, within which are 
 witnessed the grand ceremonies at this season of the Chris- 
 tian year. But this is a subject by itself. 
 
CHAPTEK m. 
 
 THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE — FEET- 
 WASHING BY THE GREEK PATRIARCH. 
 
 /' Standing on the top of the Tower of David, and look- 
 ing down upon Jerusalem, one sees lying almost in the 
 heart of the city an ancient architectural pile, whose dome 
 covers the holiest shrine in the Christian world. This is 
 the Chui'ch of the Holy Sepulchre, which includes within 
 its walls both the rock of Calvary, on which our Lord was 
 crucified, and the tomb in which his body was laid, and 
 from which he rose on the third day. I am well aware of 
 the disputes as to the identity of these sites. Certainly 
 this could not have been the place of the Crucifixion, if it 
 was always, as now, in the heart of the city : for Jesus went 
 forth bearing his cross, and suffered without the gate. 
 And yet, in spite of all objections. Col. Wilson, the American 
 Consul, who has been here for several years, and made a 
 study of the question, is very positive in his conviction that 
 the sites are genuine, and that Calvary and the Se23ulchre 
 are both properly included in the same enclosure. Many 
 others, whose opinions are at least worthy of respect, agree 
 with him. Further than stating what they think, I have no 
 disposition to go : for however the balance of probabilities 
 
36 CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 
 
 may seem to incline one way or the other, it must be very 
 unsatisfactory to discuss a question which cannot be 
 definitely settled till farther explorations have determined 
 the exact position of the second wall of Jerusalem. 
 
 Perhaps the increduHty would not be so great if the 
 difficulties were not multipHed by the multiplication of 
 sites : for not only is the place of Calvary fixed here, and 
 of the Sepulchre, but all of the minor sites that can be in 
 any way connected with these, each of which is identified 
 with the utmost precision : such as the very spot where our 
 Lord was mocked ; where he was scourged, Tvith a frag- 
 ment of the column to which he was bound ; where he was 
 nailed to the cross ; where the soldiers cast lots for his rai- 
 ment, and the women anointed his body ; the stone which 
 was rolled from the door of the Sepulchre, and on which 
 the angel sat ; and the spot where Christ appeared to Mai-y 
 Magdalene. Thus at every step one finds some new site, 
 till the Church becomes a kind of sacred museum, in which 
 objects the most diverse are gathered together. It seems 
 highly improbable that even its broad roof could cover so 
 many spots of sacred interest. The number is too great 
 to be included even within its ample walls. It could hardly 
 be explained except on the theory of miraculous interposi- 
 tion, that all these sites should be grouped in one circum- 
 ference ; and the attempt to bring them together throws 
 an au^ of suspicion over the whole, as if it were all a monk- 
 ish fable and superstition. / 
 
 Some ai'e so shocked and disgusted at the fables that 
 are told of these " holy places," that they cannot visit with 
 pleasure any spot which tradition has invested with sacred- 
 ness, because of the superstitious fancies and follies with 
 which it is sure to be connected. Even my dear Dr. Post 
 feels this so strongly that he turns away from holy shrines 
 with an instinct of aversion, as from impostures which 
 
CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 37 
 
 in many cases are so gross that no pains ai-e taken at 
 concealment. 
 
 But for my part, I am not careful to answer in these 
 things, for if that which is assumed be not established — 
 even if the identity be more than doubtful — still there is 
 an association w^hich of itself gives interest to the spot, 
 and a great power over the imagination. A church which 
 the tradition of the whole Christian world for sixteen 
 hundred years has accepted as the place of burial of our 
 Lord — for the possession of which great wars have been 
 waged — is at least a historical monument of the deepest 
 interest. The Crusades were undertaken to recover the 
 Holy Sepulchre, which was believed to be within the walls 
 of this church. A sanctuary to recover which Europe and 
 the East were at war for a century, must be regarded as 
 one of the historical buildings of the world, and cannot be 
 approached without a feeUng of veneration. 
 
 But more than that, it has not only historical interest, 
 but religious interest. "Whether it be the spot of our 
 Lord's entombment, or no, yet the very belief invests it 
 with a tender interest. The association makes it sacred ; 
 it has been consecrated by the faith and hope, by 
 the tears and prayers, of generations. As such I enter 
 it with a feeling of reverence, if not of devotion, and 
 stand with uncovered head amid the throng of kneeling 
 worshippers. ' 
 
 Although the Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday, 
 the more impressive services do not commence till Thurs- 
 day, the anniversary of that last Passover which oui' Lord 
 kept with his disciples the evening before his death. His 
 betrayal by Judas on that night was the beginning of his 
 "Passion," which gives Holy Week the name of Passion 
 Week. From this moment the interest deepens as the 
 scene darkens. The darkness deepens till the Lord of 
 
38 THE WASHING OF FEET 
 
 glory expires, when it is the midnight of the world ; and 
 this darkness hangs like a pall over the earth till the 
 morning of the third day, when as the sun rises in the 
 East, the Son of Man rises from the tomb. Thus within 
 three dayG the mind passes — as did the minds of the 
 disciples when waiting in fearful suspense — from the 
 depths of despair to the height of joy. 
 
 Thursday morning I had gone to the American Consul's 
 to listen to the chain of proofs which he had kindly offered 
 to give me, for the faith that is in him in regard to the 
 identity of the principal sites in the Church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre. He is a full believer, and supports his position 
 with an array of learning which I was quite unable, even 
 if I had been disposed, to answer. [He afterwards went 
 with me to the Church itself, and to the Porta Judiciaria, 
 on the Via Dolorosa, to point out local indications which 
 satisfied him of the truth of his position.]/ 
 
 While Hstening to this most interesting explanation, 
 Dr. Post came in haste to bid me come instantly to see the 
 crowd gathering to witness the Washing of Feet by the 
 Greek Patriarch. This is one of the sights of Holy Week 
 in Jerusalem that must not be omitted. We hastened 
 across the street, and down the steps into the court, where 
 we found a great concourse in a state of excitement, in 
 which there was apparently more of curiosity than of devo- 
 tion. Not only was the open space packed with a dense 
 mass of human beings, but the roofs of the adjoining build- 
 ings were covered ; every window was full of eager faces ; 
 indeed swarthy fellows, with strong hands and nimble feet, 
 were cHmbing to every capstone or projecting bit of wall 
 on which a monkey could sit, to look down on the strange 
 scene. In the centre of the open square was a raised plat- 
 form occupied by a dozen j^riests or pilgrims, who were 
 waiting, not apparently in a mood of devotion, but in that 
 
BY THE GREEK PATRIARCH. 39 
 
 flutter of excitement wliicli may be seen round the galleries 
 at Yale or Harvard on Commencement Daj. It was a 
 grand spectacle, in which they were actors, and they 
 enjoyed for their little hour being made conspicuous. 
 After long waiting a stir in the crowd announced the ap- 
 proach of the Greek Patriarch, who, with aU the pomp and 
 dignity of Eastern ceremonial, in vestments covered with 
 gold and fairly weighted with jewels, was ushered to his 
 seat, where he appeared as our Lord, while " the twelve " 
 who sat round him personated the Apostles. In this sacred 
 drama each one had his separate part. It was easy to 
 distinguish John, the beloved disciple, as he leaned on the 
 bosom of his Lord. All these tender scenes, best imagined 
 in the shades of evening, in the still upper room, were 
 di-agged into the garish Ught of day, to be made a spectacle 
 to the gaping multitude. When it came to the feet-wash- 
 ing, the Patriarch, lading aside his costly vestments, girded 
 himself with a towel, in imitation of his Divine Master, and 
 began to wash the feet of those who represented the Apos- 
 tles—and not only washed them, but kissed them ! When 
 he came to Peter, that ardent and impulsive, but somewhat 
 refi-actory. Apostle went into frantic demonstrations, as if 
 he would forbid such an act of humiliation on the part of 
 his Lord— a resistance which was at last overcome, and he 
 yielded with well-feigned reluctance. / 
 
 When all was over, the Patriarch retired to his Convent 
 to rest after his fatigues. An hour or two later we called 
 by appointment for an interview, and were told that " His 
 Beatitude " was taking his repose. However, he soon 
 awoke fi'om his slumbers, and appeared in his grand salon, 
 smiHng and gracious. Of course all well-bred traveUers 
 treat him with the respect due to his high office ; but I 
 could not quite repress a secret thought that it was a little 
 out of character for one who had taken the chief part in 
 
40 THE GREEK PATRIARCH. 
 
 sucli sacred scenes, to be making pleasant speeches to the 
 ladies, and clinking glasses with the gentlemen ! 
 
 After the interview, we walked in the garden, among 
 the orange trees, and thought what " a sweet thing " it was 
 to be a Patriarch, with no children to look after, unless he 
 regards as such the members of his spiritual household. 
 And if any of them appear unruly, they are easily disposed 
 of : for not far away is the Convent of Mar Saba, to which 
 a turbulent ecclesiatic can be "advised" to retire for 
 meditation and prayer ; and if a longer withdrawal from 
 the world be thought for his spiritual benefit, he may be 
 counselled to follow the example of Paul, and spend three 
 years in Arabia, among the chffs of Sinai. I could not for- 
 get our old friend, the Archimandrite of Jerusalem, at the 
 Convent of St. Catherine, who, I doubt not, is there yet, 
 and will remain so long as " His Beatitude " may think 
 best to keep him there. The sleek Patriarch is a perfect 
 autocrat in his spiritual dominion, and can banish at his 
 will any wretched priest or monk who may incur his dis- 
 pleasure. It seemed uncharitable to think that this smil- 
 ing old man might conceal under his soft raiment a heart 
 as hard and cruel as ev^ sent a heretic to the prison of 
 the Inquisition. I say not that it is so ; he may be a very 
 kind-hearted man. But there is nothing in his position to 
 prevent his playing the tyrant as fully as any Tui'kish 
 pasha. Here is the danger of ecclesiastical power : it is 
 the paw of the lion, soft to the touch, but with a terrible 
 gripe to crush and to destroy. 
 
 What a contrast to this scene was the communion at 
 the English church, which is always celebrated on Thurs- 
 day evening of Holy Week — " the same night in which he 
 was betrayed." It was a help to our thoughts that we had 
 just paid a visit to the Coenaculum, which is on Mount 
 Zion, and not far away, the chamber in which, according 
 
THE XIGHT IN WHICH HE WAS BETRAYED. 41 
 
 to tradition, our Lord kept his last Passover witli his 
 disciples. It may indeed be on the site, but certainly this 
 pillared hall is not the " upper room " : for it is in a style 
 of architectiu'e unknown in the time of our Saviour. The 
 arches which support the ceiling are not Eoman, but 
 Gothic, giving the room the appearance of a monks' 
 refectory in an old English abbey. This indicates that it 
 is of a date not earlier than the time of the Crusaders. 
 Still a visit which recalled the event could not but deepen 
 the impression of the service that was to follow. Listening 
 to the reading of the account of the original institution, 
 we seemed to hear the Master's voice saying *•' Do this in 
 remembrance of me." After an earnest discourse by 
 another Australian bishop, the communion was cele- 
 brated ; and it was a touching thought that we were 
 partaking of the Last Supper in Jerusalem on the very 
 night on which our Lord was betrayed, and not far fi'om 
 the spot where he sat down with the twelve. 
 
 After the seiwice in the chui'ch, Dean Howson of 
 Chester (so well known in America by the admii'able 
 work, Conybeare and Howson's Life and Travels of St. 
 Paul) and a few others went out to the Mount of Ohves, 
 and there — a little above the enclosed Garden of Geth- 
 semane, and nearer, as they thought, to the exact spot, 
 under some ancient olives — read the story of Chiist's 
 agony in the Garden, and knelt and prayed where he had 
 prayed before them. It was a moment long to be remem- 
 bered. Who that has once heai'd can ever forget how 
 Antoinette Sterling used to sing 
 
 " 'Tis midnight, and on Olive's brow 
 
 The star is dimmed that lately shone ; 
 'Tis midnight, and on Olive's brow 
 The suffering Saviour prays alone " ? 
 
 Such memories now returned with the place and the 
 
42 CELEBRATION OF GOOD FRIDAY. 
 
 hour. It was a strange, weird scene, tlie lights shining 
 through the trees, recalling that night when Judas and the 
 band of soldiers came "with lanterns" along this same 
 sloj)e. Just as they closed their service, the full moon — 
 the Paschal moon — rose above the crest of Olivet, and 
 shone down into the Valley of the Kedron, and on the gray 
 old walls of the city beyond. 
 
 Good Friday is celebrated in a manner peculiarly 
 Oriental. It is natural that the hearts of devout pilgrims 
 should be stirred at finding themselves on the very day of 
 the Crucifixion on the si)ot where it took place, and that 
 they should desire to recall in some impressive form a 
 scene so gi-and and awful. But the method taken is more 
 fitted to disj)el than to deejDen the impression of solemnity. 
 It is a kind of "Passion Play," which is so forced and 
 unnatural that it has not at all the pathos of that at Ober- 
 Ammergau, where the mournful scenes are depicted by 
 simple and devout peasants amid the sombre surroundings 
 of the Bavarian Alps. There it is a man who personates the 
 Christ, and who is hfted on the cross in an attitude which 
 shows extreme bodily tension and suffering, from which 
 he is often taken doAvn in a swoon. But here there is no 
 quivering flesh and blood, but only a wooden figure, which 
 is mocked and scourged, and into which are driven the 
 nails, and which is then lifted upon the cross, and after- 
 wards taken down and borne to the " Stone of Unction " 
 to be anointed for biurial, and placed in the sepulchre. 
 The effect may be imagined in a church filled with a dense 
 crowd, whose upturned faces are eager and excited. At 
 each pause in the tragic scene a brief sermon is delivered, 
 so that in the whole there are half a dozen in as many 
 different languages. Such a mingling of the theatrical 
 with the religious is well fitted to rouse the superstition 
 and fanaticism of the spectators, but not to leave a lasting 
 
CELEBRATIOX OF GOOD FRIDAY. 43 
 
 impression of the awful event whicli it is intended to com- 
 memorate. 
 
 While these demonstrations were more painfid than 
 solemn, there was one silent recognition of the day that 
 was very impressive — the flags w^ere hung at haK mast! 
 This I had never seen before in any of the cities of Chris- 
 tendom, and that drooping symbol told the story of death 
 as no words could tell it. It was as if the Lord had just 
 expii-ed on the cross ; as if his body had just been laid in 
 the sepulchre, and the disciples were looking into one 
 another's faces in speechless sorrow — a spectacle which 
 might well touch the heaiis of aU beholders, not only with 
 sympathy but with awe ; as in the oiiginal scene, " the 
 people that came together to that sight, beholding the 
 things that were done, smote their breasts and returned." 
 The commemoration of such events awakens a feeling 
 which seeks relief in worship and in prayer. Again the 
 English Church presented a welcome jDlace of retreat, 
 where Dean Howson preached an excellent sermon fi^om 
 the text " The inscription was written in Hebrew, in Greek, 
 and in Latin," from which he drew a lesson most fitting to 
 the day, that the very words above our Saviour's drooping 
 head, though undesigned by the Eoman soldiers who placed 
 them there, being in different languages, indicated that the 
 offering which he then made was not for one nation onbf, 
 but for men of all tongues and climes, for all the tribes 
 and kindreds of mankind. / 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GEEEK FIRE, SUPPOSED TO BE LIGHTED BY 
 THE DESCENT OF THE HOLY GHOST. 
 
 /The great day of tlie Holy Week in Jerusalem is nctj 
 as in Rome, Good Friday, the Day of the Crucifixion ; nor 
 Easter, the Day of the Resun^eclion ; but the day between, 
 Saturday. Then the scene of suffering is over : the long 
 agony has ended in death. No more can the disciples 
 gather round their beloved Master ; no more can they hear 
 his voice, saying " Let not your hearts be troubled ; ye be- 
 lieve in God, believe also in me." He is gone to the grave. 
 It is the hour and the power of darkness. At this moment, 
 when darkness covers the earth, fire from heaven descends 
 to reillumine the light that has been extinguished. As of 
 old the Holy Ghost descended in tongues of fire on the 
 heads of the Apostles, so now does a heavenly flame flash 
 from above to kindle the torches of the faithful who are 
 waiting to receive it, and to cast light again u23on a dark- 
 ened world. I 
 
 Such is the theory, and such the ceremony witnessed 
 every year in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. So gross 
 is the imposture that long since the Latins refused to have 
 anything to do with it ; and the Greeks, while they 
 
THE GREEK FIRE. 45 
 
 continue the observance, are forced to disclaim its mirac- 
 ulous pretensions. Wlien the Patriarch received us with 
 such benignity, an inquisitive American might have felt 
 tempted to seek enhghtenment on this point, but we could 
 not so far disturb his calmness as to ask such troublesome 
 questions. But the priest who officiated as his interpreter, 
 said to us privately that His Beatitude did not claim for it 
 a miraculous, but only a symbohc character. Yet he knew 
 very well that whatever explanations he might give to 
 travellers, the people did beheve in the holy fire in its most 
 literal interpretation ; that it came fi'om heaven ; and that 
 this, and this alone, led them to regard it with such awe. 
 The Patriarch may wash his hands, like Pilate, and protest 
 that he is innocent, but he lends his name and presence to 
 one of the most shameless superstitions of modern times. ./ 
 How great is the credulity of the people is shown by 
 the fact that they regard it as an object of em^ and 
 ambition to be the first to catch the sacred flame, and are 
 wiUing to pay for the privilege. It is put up at auction, 
 being cried aloud in the church by a priest, who asks 
 " Who wiU part with earthly goods to obtain a heavenly ■ 
 inheritance ? " On this occasion a wealthy Armenian was 
 the highest bidder, paying sixty pounds for the first place ! 
 Is it to be supposed that one of this thiifty race, which has 
 the reputation of always looking out for the main chance, 
 would throw away such a sum for a torch lit by a lucifer 
 match ? No ; he believed that it was lighted by the same 
 Holy Ghost who descended in tongues of fire on the 
 Apostles. The fame of this keen rivahy for the heavenly 
 prize went abroad in Jerusalem, and added to the eager- 
 ness to be present. Dr. Post had left that day for Jaffa, 
 to take the steamer for Beirut, being obhged to return 
 to his family and his College ; so that I was alone, and 
 should not have dared to venture into such a crowd, but by/ 
 
46 THE GREEK FIRE 
 
 the kindness of tlie Consul, I was accompanied on this, as 
 on other occasions, by a potent protector, in the person of 
 the cavass. AVhoever has been in the East has had 
 frequent occasion to exclaim, Great is the cavass ! This is 
 the attendant of an official — a sort of body-guard, who 
 goes before him and clears the way, and who in outward 
 appearance is a much more imposing figure than his 
 master. He was got up in grand costume, with baggy 
 trousers and braided coat, and carried in his hand a huge 
 truncheon loaded at the bottom, which rang as he struck it 
 on the pavement, a sign that somebody was coming ; and 
 a warning to " everybody," that was not " somebody," to 
 get out of the way. This cavass was a striking character in 
 more ways than one, for he did not hesitate to give, if not a 
 blow, at least a vigorous push, to any one who did not 
 move fast enough. The crowd, packed as it was, opened 
 right and left, thinking no doubt that it was some grand 
 personage, a Governor or a Pasha, who was walking with 
 majestic presence behind. If they had only known that it 
 was only a private American citizen ! Not for the world 
 would I let them into the secret, but walked with head 
 erect and unmoved countenance, as if I were a sovereign, 
 (as I am : are not all Americans sovereigns ?) and their 
 marks of reverence were but the just and proper recog- 
 nition of my personal consequence ! / 
 
 And so, following this majestic creature, he led me 
 through the court and into the chui'ch, where the soldiers 
 kept a passage clear. We stepped quickly tlirough till we 
 reached the foot of a stair which led up into a gallery. 
 There are several galleries, one above the other, which, as 
 they afford commanding positions, are kept for invited 
 guests, or for travellers who pay for reserved seats. Above 
 us stood a gi-oup of dignitaries of the Church of England, 
 among whom shone the face of good Dean Howson. I wds 
 
LIGHTED BY THE HOLY GHOST. 47 
 
 in what would be called in a theatre " the first tier," just 
 opposite the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre, where I had 
 23aid half a napoleon (two dollars) for a front seat, from 
 which I looked down on the whole scene. 
 
 And what a scene it was ! To say that the chui'ch was 
 full, conveys no idea of the compact mass that was wedged 
 into it. I find it difficult to estimate the capacity of a 
 building which is neither square nor round, nor confined 
 within four waUs, but runs off into side chapels and pas- 
 sages. It is said that altogether it will hold over six 
 thousand. As this was the great spectacle of the week, 
 of course the pilgrims — at least the Greek pilgrims — were 
 anxious to see it. Hundreds had slept in the church all 
 night to keep their places for the next day. In the rear 
 of the galleries were heaps of blankets, on which they 
 had snatched a brief repose. And when to this was added 
 the entrance from without, the crush was tremendous. 
 The Turkish soldiers tried to keep back the incoming 
 multitude, but in vain. Such was the fever of excitement 
 that it could not be restrained. In it roUed like a tide, 
 surging in every direction, with a noise like the roaring of 
 the sea. / 
 
 The tumult and the uproar could only be compared to 
 that at some mass meeting or political convention. Instead 
 of the great assembly being hushed in awe, the body of 
 those on the pavement of the church were singing as in 
 chorus. " What mean these wild voices ? " I asked of one 
 of the attaches of the Consulate who stood beside me. " It 
 is the Greeks," he answered. "And what are they say- 
 ing ? " (for I heard the same words oft repeated.) " They 
 are singing * This is the tomb of our Lord who redeemed 
 us by his blood ! ' " So far well, and if the voices were 
 loud and piercing, stiU they might be taken as the irre- 
 pressible outcry of faith, as when the multitude shouted 
 
48 THE GREEK FIRE 
 
 Hosannas. But liark what follows : " We are happy, hut 
 the Jews are miserable ! " The jubilant strains of the Greeks 
 were mingled with that hatred of another race and another 
 rehgion which is a part of their " orthodox faith " ; at the 
 very moment of their exultation at being redeemed by the 
 Saviour's blood, their mouths v/ere filled with cursing and 
 bitterness. It seemed that they could not express their 
 own rehgious joy without intermingling with it their ha- 
 tred of others. It was said that if a Jew had dared to 
 show his head within the church at that moment, he would 
 have been torn in pieces, unless he had been rescued by 
 the Turkish soldiers. 
 
 Looking down upon this mass swaying to and fro, I 
 was in terror lest some of the weaker ones in the crowd, 
 unable to keep their standing, should be thrown down and 
 trampled under foot. It is not an infrequent occuiTence 
 that persons suffer great bodily injuries, and that some are 
 even crushed to death. The chief struggle was around the 
 Chapel of the Sepulchi-e, which was to be the scene of the 
 supernatural display. The Chapel has on its side a large 
 round opening, like a port-hole, through which would be 
 thrust the flaming torch that was lighted from heaven ; 
 and the great object was to be near this holy apeiiure, so 
 as to be the first to snatch the sacred fire. Foremost of 
 those who pushed towards this spot were a number of 
 yotmg men, with bared arms and legs, stripped as for a 
 race. As they came forward, the soldiers tried to push 
 them back, and I was fearful that to the scene of crushing 
 would now be added the more horrible spectacle of fight- 
 ing in this holy place. It is not uncommon for the soldiers 
 and the pilgrims to come to blows. Indeed on one mem- 
 orable occasion, in 1834, there was a conflict, in which 
 three hundred were killed, and the pavement ran with 
 blood. But the men stood their ground, and for a few / 
 
LIGHTED BY THE HOLY GHOST. 49 
 
 moments kept up an altercation with the officers, in which 
 I surmised that they were explaining that they were either 
 representatives of the rich Armenian who had bought the 
 first place, or men who had themselves paid for the next 
 places, and so had a right to be there — points which the 
 Turks at last got into their dull heads, and jdelded a Httle, 
 and allowed the persistent devotees to come up closer till 
 they could hug the very walls ; and here they stood, cling- 
 ing to the marble till the fire from heaven should descend. / 
 
 At length order was in some degree restored, and the 
 crowd pushed back by the soldiers, so as to open a circular 
 space round the Chapel of the Sepulchre, and then entered 
 a series of processions. First came the Greek Patriarch, 
 followed by his clergy in their most gorgeous robes, car- 
 rying banners and chanting the htanies. Thus moving 
 with slow step to the sound of their solemn music, they 
 circled three times round the Holy Sepulchre. Next came 
 the Armenians, whose Patriarch outshone his Greek bro- 
 ther in the splendor of his episcopal costume ; and then 
 the other Oriental sects — the Copts, the Syrians, and the 
 Abyssinians. / 
 
 The processions ended, there came the supreme mo- 
 ment, when the Greek Patriarch entered the Holy Sepul- 
 chre. All lights were extinguished, and the church was in 
 darkness. Then for the first time there was silence. The 
 whole vast assembly stood breathless, while the Patriarch, 
 having like the High Priest entered into the Holy of 
 Holies, was bowed in prayer. It was a moment of eager 
 expectation. In this deep stillness, out of the darkness 
 suddenly the hght appeared. From where I stood, I saw 
 the first faint gUmmer within the recess. Long arms had 
 been stretched within the aperture to grasp it, and in an 
 instant it fiashed in the eyes of the great assembly, those 
 who seized it first holding it aloft in triumph. Then fol- 
 
50 THE GREEK FIRE 
 
 lowed a scene which defies description. A hundred arms 
 were outstretched to catch the fii'e, and in an instant it flew 
 from hand to hand, till in a space of time so brief that it 
 seemed almost instantaneous, the whole building was 
 aflama. From below the torches were passed up into the 
 galleries, and were flashed in our faces. The ladies shrunk 
 back lest their dresses should be caught. We all seemed 
 to be in danger. Perhaps we were to be offered up as 
 sacrifices on an altar. As Nero bound the Christians to 
 columns, and smeared them with pitch, and set them on 
 fire to Hght the Imperial gardens, so we might in the same 
 way obtain the honors of martyrdom ; or we might perish, 
 not alone, but with the venerable church itself as a funeral 
 pile : for indeed for a few moments I felt a degree of alarm 
 lest the ancient shrine should take fire, as gallery above 
 gallery was in a blaze, while the dome was filled with 
 smoke as with a cloud of incense. 
 
 Nor was the illumination confined within the walls. 
 Torches were passed without to the vast crowd waiting in 
 the court. The men whom we had seen round the Holy 
 Sepulchre stripped for the race, were torch-bearers, and 
 now bounded away through the city streets, and out of the 
 gates, speeding over hill and valley to carry the sacred 
 flame to distant hamlets and homes scattered among the 
 hills and valleys of Judea. These torches are precious 
 heiiiooms to the pilgrims. After being hghted for a time, 
 they are extinguished, but kept with rehgious care, to be 
 reUghted again only at a bridal or a burial. When the 
 time comes that a service for the dead is to be prepared, 
 they are placed like candles upon the altar, so that those 
 who, having once made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, now 
 make a longer pilgrimage, may be said to be Ughted to the 
 grave by torches first kindled by fire from heaven. 
 
 The spectacle was over. We had been in the church 
 
LIGHTED BY THE HOLY GHOST. 51 
 
 nearly four hours, but it was a long time before the crowd 
 dispersed, so excited were they by this miraculous descent 
 of the Holy Ghost. As I walked slowly away, I was in a 
 sad mood at such a representation of Christianity in the 
 cradle of our rehgion. Was there ever a more melancholy 
 exhibition of human folly, and folly associated with some 
 of the worst passions of our nature ? Fanaticism and 
 superstition go together. One form of madness leads to 
 another, and rehgious enthusiasm, uncontrolled, lends itself 
 to hatred, malice, and aU uncharitableness. It i3 the same 
 thing the world over, in all ages and all countries. The 
 crowd that filled the theatre at Ephesus, and shouted 
 " Great is Diana of the Ephesians ! " was not a whit more 
 frenzied with the fanaticism of superstition, than the Greeks 
 whom I saw in the evening (when I came again before the 
 church was filled, and when there was space to move 
 about), actually running round the Holy Sepulchi'e like 
 demons, shouting " O Jews ! Jews ! your feast is a feast of 
 devils or of mui'derers, but our feast is the feast of Christ ! 'V 
 
 As it happened, that same afternoon I went to the 
 Temple area, and the change was very great from the scene 
 I had witnessed to the quiet of this peaceful spot. As we 
 entered the gate, the muezzin was calling the faithful to 
 prayer. All was still, as became a place of worship. In the 
 seclusion of the sheltered enclosure, and the reverent man- 
 ner of those whose heads were bowed in prayer, there was 
 something far more in harmony with the spmt of devotion 
 than what we had just seen, and I could not but think that 
 for religious worship the Mosque of Omar presented a 
 favorable contrast with the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 The next morning was Easter, and the day was ushered 
 in by the ringing of bells. This indeed was appropriate, 
 that joyful sounds should herald a joj-ful event. Such pubhc 
 recognition sometimes is very .effective, as it was in another 
 
52 EASTER. 
 
 way two days before, when the flags were hung at half 
 mast on Good Friday. From that hour a pall of darkness 
 hung over the world. But now it seemed as if the world 
 began to breathe again, as this morning peal awoke the 
 echoes of the neighboring hiUs. Listening, I thought how 
 joy answered to joy from one hill-top to another, from city 
 to city, and from land to land ; how the peal in Jerusalem 
 was answered by that in Kome ; and in every capital and 
 every cathedral, in a thousand temples, were repeated the 
 tidings of joy. In Kussia, in Moscow and St. Petersburg, 
 friends meeting in the streets rush into each other's arms, 
 embracing and exclaiming "The Lord is risen! '' So does 
 this one event send joy to the ends of the world. 
 
 With Easter the religious celebrations came to a close, 
 and immediately the pilgrims began to depart. Passing the 
 Greek Convent, I saw a procession preparing for its home- 
 ward march. The next morning the different companies, 
 representing different countries and Chui'ches, were stream- 
 ing over the hills ; while Cook's tourists, piled into waggons, 
 went rattling down the road to Jaffa. The Holy Week 
 was ended. / 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SOLITARY WALK FROM GETHSEMANE TO 
 CALVARY. 
 
 / If the services of Holy Week were all that Jerusalem 
 had to offer, it would be hardly worth the while to cross 
 the seas on a pilgrimage to the Holy City. As in Rome, 
 so in Jerusalem, the form has killed the spiiit, and services 
 designed to recall the most tender scenes in the life of our 
 Divine Master, are made the occasion of theatrical display. 
 Such exhibitions may be entertaining, but they are not 
 edifying ; we may have our curiosity excited and gratified, 
 and yet at the same moment we are inexpressibly sadden- 
 ed, at such caricatures of what we hold most sacred. The 
 impression is that of any other dramatic spectacle : there 
 is nothing that sinks into the mind and heart, to remain an 
 assurance forever of the gi'eat reaUties here commemorated 
 — nothing to make one a more believing disciple of Him 
 who lived and died and rose again. Indeed if I were to 
 end here, I should almost be of 'Mr. Spurgeon's opinion, 
 that it were better to be content with the Life of Christ as 
 we have it in the Gospels, than to try to reproduce it among 
 the hills and valleys of Judea. / 
 
 And yet it is not to be infeiTed that there is nothing to 
 
54 MOODS AND MEMORIES. 
 
 be found in Jerusalem that can minister to faith or to 
 devotion. For this one needs to detach himself from the 
 round of celebrations, from legends and traditions, and 
 wander alone, with his New Testament in his hand, in the 
 paths which his Master trod. Jerusalem in its surround- 
 ings is the same as it was two thousand years ago. The 
 hills are all here. The mountains are round about Jerusa- 
 lem as they were when David from his palace on Mount 
 Zion cast his eye round the horizon, and found in their 
 everlasting presence the emblem of God's faithfulness. 
 And having gone thus far with the crowd of pilgrims to 
 the great Festivals, perhaps my readers will be willing to 
 accompany me when I take my walks about Jerusalem 
 alone. / 
 
 The impressions of a traveller depend on a variety of 
 causes, chief of which is his own temperament, or it may be 
 some passing mood, whether he is gay or sad, buoyant with 
 hope, or depressed by disappointment. The causes are 
 wholly personal, and of interest to no one but himself. 
 Yet these peculiar moods prepare him to receive pecuhar 
 impressions. Jerusalem is a very different place to him 
 who comes burdened with a great sorrow, from what it is 
 to him who comes in the lightness of heart of the ordinary 
 traveller. "Wherever one may go, he drags the past behind 
 him : and all he sees is colored by his own secret thoughts 
 and memories. Some years since I made a journey round 
 the world, seeking rehef from the oppression of a great 
 sorrow. But I found that though a traveller may fly to the 
 ends of the earth, he cannot escape from himself. Wherever 
 I went, a shadow darkened every landscape, and an under- 
 tone of sadness mingled even with the voices of nature, 
 with the singing of birds as well as the sighing of the wind 
 or the moaning of the sea. When I reached the other 
 hemisphere, it seemed as if the past must drop away 
 
PASSING A MILESTONE ON LIFE'S JOURNEY. 55 
 
 (how could America toucli me in the heart of Asia ?) ; yet 
 at Calcutta came the anniversary of the saddest event of 
 my Hfe, and in an instant all its* bitter memories came 
 back again. Though a guest with friends, I could not bear 
 even the Hghted room or the cheerful company, but went 
 out upon a balcony and sat for houi'S alone in the moon- 
 light. All round the great city lay silent as if buried in 
 slumber ; even the trees stood motionless in the breathless 
 stillness of the tropical night : only the leaves of the palms 
 were gently stirred by the evening wind. The Winter was 
 but just over and gone, but ah'eady the fervid sun had 
 brought the fulness of the Springtime, the season when De 
 Quincey says that more than at any other we think of 
 Death from its contrast with the fulness of life in nature : 
 
 and 
 
 "As earth came forth with promise of the Spring, 
 I turned from all she brought to those she could not bring." 
 
 So finely is our whole being wrought and knit together, 
 
 that it is impossible to separate the present from the past — 
 
 the sight of what is from the memory of what has been : — 
 
 ' 'And ever and anon there comes a wound 
 
 Striking the electric chord wherewith we are darkly bound."/ 
 
 In Jemsalem I felt no " wound," but only the touch of a 
 hand : it was the most commonplace of all anniversaries — 
 a bu^hday — which I mention only to show how sUght a 
 thing can give a turn to one's thoughts — how an event in 
 one's own life, recurring in the midst of holy places, and 
 causing personal memories to mingle with religious ser- 
 vices, may strike the kejmote of a whole week of musing 
 and meditation. In truth it was a day to make one 
 thoughtful, since it completed threescore years! It 
 seemed as if with the touch of a hand there were the 
 pointing of a finger to the long distance that had been 
 passed on life's journey, and the shorter that yet remained. 
 
56 THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE. 
 
 It seemed to say, The day is far spent ; the sun is in the 
 last quarter of the heavens, and hastens to his going down. 
 Such thoughts do not make me sad, but they make me 
 sober. Musing on all these vanished years, and the lives 
 that had vanished vrith them, I was in no mood for crowds 
 and shows, but rather for soHtude and meditation. I did 
 not feel that day like joining the throng of pilgrims, but 
 rather like stealing away to some quiet spot where I could 
 be alone. And what place so fit as that where the Master 
 himself sought retirement? And so I went unto the 
 Mount of Olives. Of the position of this sacred Mount 
 there has never been a question : now, as in the time of 
 our Saviour, it stands over against the city. Below was 
 the bed of the Kedron, now dry as Summer dust, but 
 which, at certain seasons of the year, after the early or the 
 latter rain, is filled with a foaming torrent, that rises 
 suddenly and as quickly disappears. What an image of 
 human life! So swiftly does it pass away, and we are 
 gone, f 
 
 The exact position of the Garden of Gethsemane is 
 more of a question, although tradition, as usual, has fixed 
 it with the utmost precision, marking its boundaries and 
 enclosing it with a wall. The space within is laid out like 
 a garden in the French style, with straight walks and trim 
 hedges. The monk who showed us round plucked some 
 leaves and flowers which we might carry away as memen- 
 toes of the sacred place. Fragrant as the spices which 
 anointed Christ for burial were the flowers which bore a 
 name so precious as that of the Garden of Gethsemane. 
 "Whether this be the very spot or no, it could not have 
 been far away : for it was on the slope of Olivet ; some- 
 where on this hillside was the scene of that great agony. 
 Even with the belittling attempt at landscape gardening, 
 which gives to Gethsemane such a modern look, there is 
 
57 
 
 one feature which is ancient and venerable, in the olive- 
 trees, gnarled and knotted like EngHsh oaks, which have 
 stood here for centuries — some have said from the time of 
 Chi'ist. But this cannot be, for in the siege of Jerusa- 
 lem by Titus, the trees were aU cut down by the Tenth 
 Legion. The present trees may date from the fourth 
 century. Sitting down under them, we take out our New 
 Testament and read the story of that night ; how his 
 sweat was, as it were, gi'eat drops of blood faUing down to 
 the ground as he prayed, " If it be possible, let this cup 
 pass from me." When our Lord offered this prayer, he was 
 within twenty-four hours of the end. He was about to 
 descend into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, by the 
 steps of unutterable humiliation : to be betrayed by one 
 of his own disciples ; to be seized by armed men ; to be 
 dragged to a Judgment Hall ; to be mocked and scourged ; 
 and to be dehvered up to the fury of his enemies. Who 
 can think of such cruel sufferings of his Lord, without try- 
 ing in some degree to drink in his spirit and imitate his 
 example ; to learn the hardest of aU lessons — to bow his 
 head, even in the midst of sorrow and pain, and say " Not 
 my will, but thine be done " ? / 
 
 Following the course of events of that mournful night, 
 we returned to the city by St. Stephen's Gate, following 
 the path along which our Lord was led by the Koman 
 guard to Pilate's Hall. Of the points in Jerusalem that are 
 determined, few are better known than the site of the 
 Castle Antonia, Pilate's house and the Judgment HaU. 
 Here was a scene which the masters have tried to depict. A 
 great painting by a Hungarian artist recently attracted the 
 attention of London and Paris, in which were very vividly 
 portrayed the faces of that Jewish multitude, Avith their 
 priestly leaders. In the judgment-seat sits the Koman 
 Governor, whose command the attendant soldiers only 
 
58 THROUGH THE VIA DOLOROSA. 
 
 wait to hear, but who is sorely puzzled what to decide. 
 His head is bent in anxious thought ; he is trying to be 
 rid of a case which troubles him — wishing to gratify the 
 infuriated crowd which demands a sacrifice, and at the 
 same time to clear himself of the guilt of shedding inno- 
 cent blood. The face of Pilate is a masterpiece : but 
 where the artist has failed — because he attempted the 
 impossible — is in portraying the face of Christ ; yet even 
 unsatisfactory as it is, there is a majesty in that counte- 
 nance, unmoved except to sadness in the midst of the 
 wild, tumultuous scene. Gustave Dore has attempted on 
 a large canvas, to seize the moment of Christ's leaving the 
 Pretorium, with the same result of a painting wonderful in 
 its pictures of the different characters which compose the 
 angry multitude, yet failing to give the Divine Form that 
 moves serenely through them all to the great sacrifice. / 
 
 But httle thought the disciples who watched that scene 
 of its pictorial aspects. All idea of it as a spectacle was 
 lost in the one overpowering thought of their Master's 
 death. "When the crowd issued from the Hall, fierce and 
 exultant over its great victim, it took its course along a 
 street which stiU bears the name of the Via Dolorosa. The 
 ancient way is covered to a great depth by the debris of 
 centuries ; but opposite the site of the Pretorium, under 
 the Convent of the Sisters of Zion, have been found traces 
 of the old Roman pavement, along which once rolled the 
 chariots of Pilate and Herod ; and here it is not improb- 
 able that we tread the very stones that were pressed by 
 the Saviour's feet, as he went forth bearing his cross. 
 Tradition has attempted to designate every point in the 
 Via Dolorosa, such as that where Jesus turned to the 
 women who followed him, and "bewailed and lamented 
 him," and said " Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, 
 but weep for yourselves and for your children"; and the 
 
THE PLACE OF CRUCIFIXION. 59 
 
 spot where tie fainted under his cross. We do not need to 
 be thus precise. It is enough that we walk the Via 
 Dolorosa in company with our Divine Master. What 
 disciple can follow, even at this distance of time, a way- 
 filled with such memories, without saying to himself : 
 
 " Must Jesus bear the cross alone, 
 And all the world go free ? 
 No ; there's a cross for every one, 
 And there's a cross for me." / 
 
 And so following in all the way the Master trod in 
 weariness and pain, we come at last to the site which tradi- 
 tion has fixed upon as Golgotha — the Place of a Skull. 
 The place of cinicifixion, like the place of burial, is included 
 within the Chui'ch of the Holy Sepulchre, though it is at 
 the other end of the chui'ch, in a recess, or chapel, by itseK. 
 As Golgotha is supposed to have been a rocky mound, 
 which looked down on the garden at its foot, in which was 
 the new sepulchre, the Chaj^el of the Ciaicifixion is at an 
 elevation above the pavement, in a gallery, which is reached 
 by a stair. I ascended the steps of stone, and at once 
 saw by the altar at the end of the gallery, covered with 
 votive offerings of gold and silver, which glistened in the 
 light of the lamps suspended over it, that I was at the 
 foot of Calvary. It is a sombre place, with a kind of sepul- 
 chral gloom, which the lights hung from the ceiling cannot 
 dispel, as if the darkness of Death stiU lingered where the 
 Lord expired. But Calvary is the centre which attracts 
 aU worshippers. As it was an interval in the sei-vices, the 
 crowd had ebbed away ; only a few remained, who were 
 held not so much by cui'iosity as by devotion. These were 
 chiefly pilgrims of the humblest class. A woman whose 
 countenance bore traces of a Hfe of suffering, crept to the 
 altar, and bowing, almost prostrating herself, kissed the 
 spot where the cross stood. I have always observed that 
 
60 AT THE FOOT OF CALVARY. 
 
 those wlio come oftenest and linger longest, in such a place 
 of silence and meditation, are the poor in this world who 
 are rich in faith, to whom life is a burden heavy to be 
 borne, and to whom Rehgion is the only consolation. 
 Those to whom mere subsistence is a constant anxiety, find 
 comfort in looking up to him who had not where to lay 
 his head. The aged and infirm come to one who, however 
 strong, does not repel their weakness. Those who can 
 scarcely creep to the altar find support in looking to him 
 who bore our griefs and carried our sicknesses. He who 
 comes for the last time, whom death has marked for its 
 own, finds strength in the sight of his dying Lord. Even 
 the consciousness of sin does not keep away those who 
 come in penitence and confession to cast the load that 
 weighs heavy on the conscience, on him who bore our sins 
 in his own body on the tree. Thus do all the types of 
 human infirmity — Poverty, and Sickness, and hoary Age ; 
 those who are broken with years and with sorrows ; kneel 
 together at the feet, of him who is at once the Great 
 Sufferer and the Great Coijsoler. / 
 
 A spectacle so touching draws the coldest heart into 
 sympathy, and I could not look on unmoved. Whatever 
 question I might have had as to the identity of the spot, I 
 was in no mood to raise that question now. Here were 
 men and women on bended knees, in the full exercise of 
 faith and devotion ; and though I might not accept all that 
 theybeheved, yet recognizing the same great event, I bowed 
 my head, and in silent prayer joined with the worshippers. 
 And thus came into my heart a great peace. Looking back, 
 I saw sixty years rolling away behind me, and felt no 
 regret at their departure. They were gone ; let them go ! 
 At the foot of the cross one learns to judge more justly of 
 life. Things that once seemed great look very small. 
 How petty are our ambitions, our triumphs and our sue-/ 
 
AT THE FOOT OF CALVARY. 61 
 
 cesses ! Even our trials, whicti we love to magnify to exalt 
 our courage and endurance, sink into nothing in the pres- 
 ence of our Saviour's agony. And so, at the foot of the 
 cross, we gain strength to do and to suffer, to live and to 
 die. Looking up into the face of Jesus Christ, we are 
 answered by a look of infinite tenderness and compassion, 
 which gives us a sense of protection and of safety. "We are 
 sure that "He who loved his own will love them unto the 
 end." In all the rough way of life may He be with us ! 
 On this day of sober memories and anticipations, this is 
 my prayer : 
 
 Abide with me ! Fast falls the eventide ; 
 The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ! 
 When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
 Help of the helpless, oh abide with me ! 
 
 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
 Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; 
 Change and decay in all around I see : 
 O thou who changest not, abide with me ! 
 
 Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
 Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ; 
 Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee ; 
 In life, in death, Lord, abide with me 1 / 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AT THE CROSS AND THE SEPULCHRE. 
 
 / To come fully under tlie sliadow of the cross, one visit 
 to Calvary is not enough. I came and came again, and 
 with each return to the sacred spot, the scene grew more 
 real, and the moral effect grew deeper. Never can I forget 
 my last visit the evening before I left Jerusalem. The 
 Holy Week was ended, and the pilgrims had turned their 
 faces towards home. Of course some still lingered, reluc- 
 tant to depart ; but so few in comparison that one could 
 walk the streets without being jostled by men wearing 
 strange garbs and speaking strange tongues, and could 
 visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and walk about 
 undisturbed. It Avas nearly twilight when I descended 
 into the court and passed under the old archway for the 
 last time. "What a contrast to the trampling crowds of the 
 last week! The great church was empty. The stillness 
 was almost painful ; and when, after awhile, there rose 
 from a side chapel a vesper hymn — so soft and gentle was 
 it, that like a distant echo, it seemed to add to the sense of 
 silence that was othei-wise unbroken. Thus all combined 
 to produce the feeling of loneliness with which I ascended 
 the stair, and came once more to the foot of Calvary.\ 
 
IS THIS THE VERY SPOT ? 63 
 
 And is tliis the spot where my Saviour died ? How can 
 I tell what others, far wiser and more learned, have tried 
 in vain to determine ? Tradition affinns it, and even points 
 to the holes in the rock in which the three crosses stood. 
 If there were nothing but tradition to rest upon, that alone 
 would invest it with a sacred interest. Here, where gen- 
 erations have knelt in adoration of their expiring Lord, 
 his death is more real and more present than on any other 
 spot of earth. But there is at least a reasonable presump- 
 tion that the tradition is founded on reality. Underneath 
 the pavement is a rock which answers to the Mount of 
 Cmcifixion. Indeed one may reach down through an 
 opening in the marble floor, and thrust his hand into a 
 fissure which is said to have been caused by the earth- 
 quake, when "the rocks were rent and the graves were 
 opened." None can deny that this may be the spot. It is 
 at least possible that the disciples in the first centuries 
 kept the secret of the place, conceaHng it until it was safe 
 to mark it by an altar of worship. If this be so, then am I 
 at this moment at the foot of the time Calvaiy, standing 
 where Mary stood—" Now there stood by the cross Maiy 
 the mother of Jesus." Of the Roman soldiers, it is said, 
 "And sitting down, they watched him there." We too may 
 watch, silent and observant of that closing scene. / 
 
 To those who stood by the cross, the first impression 
 must have been that of intense physical suffering. Cruci- 
 fixion is one of the most painful fonns of death which the 
 cruelty of man has been able to devise. It is not instan- 
 taneous, but long and lingering, the sufferer sometimes 
 . hanging for hours, with cords and nerves torn by the 
 nails, before death comes to his reUef. Nor had our 
 Master any of the alleviations which in some cases make 
 the suffering less intense. In an old man, whose frame 
 has long been breaking, age that weakens the power of 
 
64 THE SUFFERINGS OF OUR LORD 
 
 action, also diminislies the capacity of suffering. Death 
 comes easily to one who has anticipated it by a slow and 
 gi-adual decay. But our Lord was in his early manhood — 
 only thirty-three years old — with a body tenacious of life, 
 and which took long to die. And so the hours which he 
 hung upon the cross, must have been of an agony which 
 can hardly be conceived. / 
 
 But to this were added other elements of suffering. 
 The physical pain was nothing to the mental anguish. He 
 suffered ahne : for the malefactors who died with him but 
 gave additional ignominy and bitterness to his death. 
 Their presence was no solace to the dying Lord, nor had 
 he any other. Martyrs have been followed to the scaffold 
 or the stake by those who have kept up their courage by 
 sympathy and admiration. But of such support Jesus had 
 none. In all the city of Jerusalem, crowded as it was at 
 the Feast of the Passover, few thought of him. His disci- 
 ples "forsook him and fled." Even when they saw him 
 led forth to execution, they followed only "afar off." A 
 few faithful women, whom love inspired with courage, 
 crept nearer to the foot of the cross. But how Httle could 
 their love and devotion do for the Great Sufferer ! For to 
 this depth of anguish there was a still lower deep : not 
 only was he deserted by men, but, as it seemed, forsaken 
 by God. Was there ever a cry so bitter as that when 
 there was darkness over all the land from the sixth to the 
 ninth hour : " My God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken 
 me ? " The heavens above were black ; there was not a 
 gleam of light in all the horizon. In this darkened uni- 
 verse his spirit seemed to be passing into eternal night. 
 Here was a source of anguish into which the beholders 
 could not enter. Had the disciples clung to him ever so 
 closely, they might indeed have proved their fideHty, but 
 they could not have taken from the weight of that immense 
 
TEACH US TO BEAR OUR OWN. 65 
 
 suffering. They could not touch the mighty wound. Not 
 only could they not relieve it, they could not even compre- 
 hend it. Jesus Christ, when giving his life for the sins of 
 the world, was beyond the reach of human sympathy. He 
 trod the vrine-press alone. / 
 
 So far as the sufferings of Christ were of the natui'e of 
 a propitiation ; of an atonement for sin ; they were too 
 great and awful to furnish an example for us. But as 
 there was in him a mingling of the human and the divine, 
 so in his sufferings there was much which answers to our 
 own, and which we may learn to bear more patiently by 
 looking to him. 
 
 The great want of the human heart is sympathy and 
 affection, and in this Christ was a man, not only with all 
 human sensibihties, but with cravings far more intense 
 than ours. And yet in this world he was alone — alone 
 while he lived and alone when he died. Some who have 
 made a study of the physical cause of Christ's death, have 
 said that he died of a broken heart. If so, it was mental 
 suffering joined to the tension and laceration of the cross, 
 which burst a heart that embraced a world in its bound- 
 less love. / 
 
 In this element of solitariness, our trials, small as they 
 are, yet faintly resemble those of our Master. Do we 
 tread the wilderness of this world alone ? So did he. 
 Does the world care little for us? It cared Httle for him. 
 Are we of small account in its esteem ? So was he. What 
 can we suffer from want of companionship or sympathy 
 compared with him, who was in the world, and the world was 
 made by him, and the World knew him not ? Jesus drank the 
 cup of humiliation to the very dregs, that he might be able 
 to sympathize with the humblest of mankind. The mass of 
 men are poor, but who so poor as he ? Do we ever think 
 what honor our Lord put upon poverty by coming into 
 
66 THE BLESSING OF THE POOR. 
 
 the world in a condition so lowly? "We miglit almost say 
 tliat he could not have been the Eedeemer of the world if 
 he had not himself been j)oor : for he would have been far 
 above the plane of ordinary human condition, and outside 
 the pale of human sympathy. A profound distinction has 
 been made between the Old Dispensation and the New : 
 that while the former glorified prosperity, making it a 
 proof of the favor of God that a man was rich in worldly 
 possessions, in flocks and herds, the New glorifies adver- 
 sity, making it rather a sign of the Divine favor that a 
 man is chastened and brought low. It blesses the poor. 
 This suits better the condition of the mass of mankind. 
 To the greater j)art of the human race Hfe is a disappoint- 
 ment. The more we aspire to that which is high, the more 
 we suffer from being brought down to that which is low. 
 Deep hidden within the breast are the pangs of wounded 
 pride and disappointed ambition ; but they are there. The 
 keenest sting to our pride in our contests with the world, 
 is to. have the wicked triumph over us ; to be overcome by 
 the mean and the malignant ; to hear their laugh of scorn, 
 their cruel mockery, in the hour of defeat. Yet Christ 
 was humbled in the presence of his enemies ; he was 
 pursued with relentless hatred ; he was brought to the 
 scaffold. It was at that moment, when dying from the 
 malice of his persecutors, that he prayed " Father, forgive 
 them, for they know not what they do " — an abnegation of 
 self so complete that it drew from the great French writer 
 of the last century, Rousseau, this confession : " Socrates 
 died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God!" 
 If God could forgive such crimes, cannot we forgive our 
 petty injuries ? Should not such forgiveness di'aw out of 
 our hearts every feeling of hatred and bitterness? Is there 
 any abasement of our pride that is not easy to bear when 
 we contemplate the voluntary humiliation of the Greatest 
 
THE COMFORT OF THE LOXELY. 67 
 
 among men ? Sliall the disciple be greater than his Master, 
 or the servant gi'eater than his Lord ? '^ 
 
 But there are some that have no ambition and no pride, 
 and yet are fearfu% alone. To such the Master comes in 
 the deepest solitude, and by his coming takes away the 
 feeling of desolateness. His sympathy is so delicate and 
 tender, so mindful of human infirmity, so gentle and 
 forgiving, that it glides into the heart and steals away its 
 soiTow. A\Tio can be lonely with such a Friend and 
 Companion? Though one climb the highest mountain, 
 Christ is there. Though he sail the farthest ocean, even 
 there, in the darkness of midnight, he can see a Form 
 walking on the waves, and hear a voice saying " It is I ; 
 be not afraid." So Christ comes to us in our darkest 
 night, in our extremest need ; in what seems to us utter 
 lonehness. He who was himself deserted of men ; whose 
 life was so solitary ; can comfoii; all the lonely. There is 
 not a heart so desolate, nor a life so dreary, into which his 
 presence cannot bring an ineffable peace. And not only 
 wiU he be with us in the lonehness of hfe, but in the lone- 
 liness of death : for then it is that we are most sohtarj-, 
 when we venture forward into the dark and the unknown. 
 In the Church of Eome, when one is near his end, the 
 priest comes to the bedside, and holds up the crucifix 
 before the eyes, and presses it to the Hps, of the dying, 
 that the sight of his Lord may give him strength to pass 
 through the gates of death. We use no such symbols, but 
 coming to the foot of the cross, even the sternest Prot- 
 estant must bow his head and say, Jesus, look on me! 
 For such prayer this is the place. Its associations make a 
 Eeal Presence of the body and blood of Chi-ist. We seem 
 to look up into the Master's face, and to hear his voice 
 saying " Son, Daughter, go in peace ; thy sins are forgiven 
 thee ! " He who looked down from the height of his cross, 
 
68 THE CROSS m HISTORY. 
 
 and spoke words of comfort to tlie weeping group at his 
 feet, comforts us also. He wlio forgave His enemies, for- 
 gives our ingratitude, and gives us peace. 
 
 If it were not too much dividing our thoughts, one 
 would be tempted here to trace the Cross in History, and 
 mark the revolutions of time ; to note how the instrument 
 of torture and of ignominy has become a sign of glory — a 
 badge worn in the crowns of emperors and kings, and a 
 sign lifted up on the spires of great capitals ; to observe 
 how an influence starting from this spot, like a fountain 
 bursting from the rock, has flowed through history — the 
 puiifying element of all modern civihzation. Looking at 
 it in these general bearings, so vast and remote, one may 
 well use the language of exultation : 
 
 " In the Cross of Christ I glory, 
 
 Towering o'er the wrecks of Time ; 
 All the lights of ancient story- 
 Gather round that head sublime."/ 
 
 But one who comes to the foot of Calvary is not in a 
 mood to philosophize upon history. This little chapel is 
 but a small oratory compared with the gi'eat cathedrals of 
 Christendom ; but it is the spot where, according to tradi- 
 tion, the Crucifixion took j)lace, and that gives it an 
 interest which does not belong to aU the cathedrals in the 
 world. As a Christian stands here at the foot of the cross, 
 he is thinking, not of the relation of his Master's death to 
 the world, but to his own soul — to him as one who has to 
 live and to die, and to go to the bar of judgment ; and the 
 utterance of his heart is " God be merciful to me, a 
 sinner ! " — " Lord, remember me when thou comest into 
 thy kingdom ! " / 
 
 From the Chapel of the Crucifixion, I descended to the 
 floor of the church, pausing at the stone which marks the 
 spot where the body was anointed for burial, and came to 
 
AT THE SEPULCHRE. 69 
 
 the place of the Sepulchre. When I had been here he- 
 fore, the Latin fathers were standing in front of it, some 
 of whom were stalwart men, with rich deep voices, and 
 sang in triumphant strains the glorious H}Tnns of the Kes- 
 urrection. Now all was still as I went down the steps 
 alone, and entered the place of entombment. This, though 
 called a chapel, is no bigger than a monk's cell, and one 
 has to do almost as did the disciples, Peter and John — to 
 " stoop down " in order to enter it. It is indeed a "narrow 
 house," but it is enough ; it is sufficient for a tomb. Here 
 was the new sepulchre, wherein was never man laid till it 
 received the body of our Lord. The old rock-sepulchre is 
 not here. There may have been a cavity hollowed out 
 below, in which the body was laid ; but if so, it is covered 
 from sight by slabs of marble, in form like a sarcophagus, 
 whereon, as an altar, the mass is celebrated daily, accord- 
 ing to the rites of both the Greek and the Latin Church — 
 " an unbloody offering," as it is called, for the quick and 
 dead. / 
 
 What interest gathers and is focused in this hallowed 
 spot, the very centre of Christendom — of its faith and 
 devotion ! Within these naiTow walls what prayers have 
 been offered, and what tears have been shed! ^Tiat a 
 place for memories, for sorrows, and for hopes 1 A world 
 of memories came sweeping through the mind, as a Hght- 
 ning flash reveals a whole landscape that is bmied in 
 darkness — ^thoughts of the dead lying in graves far off be- 
 yond the sea. As I knelt and bowed my head on the cold 
 stone, it seemed as if I laid both head and heart upon a 
 coffin lid which had suddenly closed on a beloved form 
 and face. Within were the eyes that shone, and the lips 
 that spoke to ours, but that would not look or speak again. 
 We listen, if we may not hear the deep-drawn breath or 
 the beating of the heart ; but no sound escapes : the lips 
 
70 ^ THE ONLY HOPE OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 are sealed, the heart is stiU, the hands are folded on the 
 breast. So have come generations of the broken-hearted, 
 and poured out their tears on the tomb of the Crucified. 
 Here kings and emperors, with millions of every rank and 
 of forty or fifty generations, have knelt and prayed, and 
 sobbed and wept, for those who were gone not to return. 
 WeU might they weep when standing within the portals of 
 the tomb, in the presence of a reality which cannot be dis- 
 guised. Cover the coffin with flowers, bury it with wreaths 
 and garlands — that does not change the awful fact of Death. 
 The life that was is ended ; is there another life to begin ? 
 For that, the resurrection of Christ is our only hope. Ab- 
 stract arguments for the immortahty of the soul, amount 
 to Httle. At best they enable us only to say with the an- 
 cient philosophers, " We hope rather than believe." But 
 if out of this sepulchre there has been a return of One 
 from the unnumbered dead, that is a pledge of the resur- 
 rection of all. This is the turning-point of our Faith and 
 our Rehgion. What mighty hopes hang upon the single 
 fact of the Eesurrection ! " If Christ be not risen, then 
 they that are fallen asleep in Christ are perished. But 
 now is Christ risen from the dead ! " The answer to aU 
 skepticism is this : " If we beHeve that Christ died and 
 rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will 
 God biing with him."/ 
 
 As I came out of the Chapel of the Sepulchre, it seemed 
 as if I were coming out of a tomb. When I left the church, 
 the shades of evening had fallen, and the gathering dark- 
 ness reminded me of another night that was fast coming 
 on, in which no man can work. I had just passed a mile- 
 stone on my life's journey, and was a year's march nearer 
 to the grave. But I had found strength for the inevitable 
 hour. I had been to the place where the Lord lay, and 
 had seen the stone rolled away from the door of the sep- 
 
'* I BELIEVE IN THE LIFE EVERLASTING." 71 
 
 ulclire, and seen a vision of angels wlio said that He was 
 alive. I hastened through the streets as in a dream — as if 
 I had been one of the army of the dead laid to sleep in 
 Jerusalem centirries ago, that had crept out of the tomb, 
 and was now fleeing like an affrighted ghost. And that 
 night, as I sat once more on the balcony, which was my 
 place of meditation, and looked up at the ancient Tower 
 of David, around which Jew and Roman, Turk and Cini- 
 sader, had fought, and under whose shadow all lie buried 
 together, how Httle a thing seemed human life beside the 
 monuments which man himseK had builded ! Men come 
 and go, but these stand fast like the everlasting hills. 
 This was my last night in Jerusalem ; to-morrow I should 
 depart to retui'n no more. But my pilgrimage had not 
 been in vain, since in revisiting the scenes of our Lord's 
 life and death and resurrection, I had found my faith 
 strengthened in the Divine reality. Never had I so felt 
 how comprehensive was that Creed — so brief, so simple, 
 and yet so sublime — which has been repeated for genera- 
 tions : 
 
 I BELIEVE IN God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven 
 Am> earth ; 
 
 And EN Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was 
 conceived by the Holy Ghost, Born of the Virgin jVLvjiy, 
 Suffered under Pontius Pilate, "Was crucified, dead, and 
 Buried. The third day He rose from the dead. He ascended 
 into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God, the 
 Father Almighty. . . . 
 
 I believe ... in the life everlasting. 
 
 It is enough : in the strength of that great hope vaU. I 
 take up my pilgrim's staff for the rest of my joui-ney. The 
 future is dark before me, but not with unknown terrors. 
 Welcome the twilight 1 welcome the shadows ! since 
 beyond the darkness shines the light of Eternal Day. / 
 
CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 LEAVINQ JERUSALEM TO BETHEL, SHILOH, AND 
 
 JACOBUS WELL. 
 
 / At length the time had come when we must leave 
 Jerusalem. For eleven days we had been going round 
 about her walls, marking her towers and bulwarks, and 
 musing in her desolate places. The impression had been 
 sad and mournful. "We had seen the Jews wailing at the 
 foundation stones of the ancient temple, and again cele- 
 brating the Passover, as if in all their sorrow and hinnil- 
 iation, they would keep the memory of their ancient 
 deUverance, and hope for a brighter future for their 
 country and their race. And with the mosque of the 
 Moslem and the synagogue of the Jew, we had seen with 
 far deeper interest the places associated with the life and 
 death of our Blessed Lord. 
 
 Eich with such memories, we were now to leave the 
 holy city and turn our steps northward, through Samaria 
 and Galilee, to Shechem and Nazareth, to the Mount of 
 the Beatitudes and the shores of the Lake of Galilee, to 
 Damascus, and to the glory of Hermon and of Lebanon. / 
 
 But a new journey required a fresh preparation. On 
 arriving at Jerusalem, we had given up our attendants, not 
 
PREPARIXG FOR THE JOURNEY. 73 
 
 tliinking that dignity required that we should keep our 
 tents standing without the gates, with all the retainers of a 
 camp, while we were lodged at a hotel. Accordingly we 
 had parted with Yohanna, the dragoman who had con- 
 ducted us from the Ked Sea across the desert to Mount 
 Sinai, and from Sinai to Jerusalem. After a few days Dr. 
 Post had been obliged to return to Beirut, and I was left 
 alone. In making new arrangements, I was happy to fall 
 once more among mine own countrymen. There were a 
 number of Americans in Jerusalem, among them the Bev. 
 Dr. Adams of Fall Kiver, Mass., who with his wife had 
 been for some months travelhng in Europe and the East. 
 We had met in Florence and Kome and Naples, from 
 which we sailed together for Alexandria. We parted at 
 Cairo (they going up the Nile, while I crossed the desert), 
 and met again at Jerusalem, with mutual congratulations 
 that w^ might now make a journey through the Holy 
 Land together. Dr. Adams had known Dr. Post in the 
 Union Theological Seminary, New York. I counted it 
 extremely fortunate that since I had lost the one as a 
 travelling companion, I could have the other ; while the 
 presence of an American lady gave to our tent-life not a 
 little of the sweet sense of home. / 
 
 With them was a young theological student, a Mr. 
 Weeden, who was to share my tent ; and an English gen- 
 tleman and his wife. The party had been made up by Dr. 
 Adams, who had engaged as dragoman 'Mr. RoUa Floyd of 
 Jaffa, who is well known in Palestine, where he was for 
 many years in charge of Cook's excursion parties. A few 
 months before they had " fallen out " on some matter of 
 business, which I never understood, and of which it is not 
 worth while to repeat the gossip of Jerusalem. Their 
 difference did not concern us ; our wish was to obtain 
 the best possible guide to Palestine, and that we believed 
 
74 OUR NEW DRAGOMAN. 
 
 we had found in Mr. Floyd. He is an American, who 
 went to Jaffa years ago with a colony from Maine, of which 
 he is the only remaining representative. After the colony 
 was broken up, instead of returning to America, he stayed 
 in Jaffa, and became a guide and di^agoman to travellers. 
 He is a man of great intelligence, especially in all matters 
 which concern the geography and the historical and Bibli- 
 cal associations of the Holy Land. He has the Bible at 
 his tongue's end, and can quote chaj)ter and verse for any 
 place to which he comes, from one end of the country to 
 the other. At the same time he is a man of splendid 
 physique, of great physical strength and courage — quali- 
 ties not to be left out of account in one who has to conduct 
 a party, to keep the upper hand of quarrelsome muleteers, 
 as well as a sharp lookout against the thieves who infest 
 almost every village, certainly every favorite camping 
 ground of travellers. He took entire charge-of the expedi- 
 tion, engaging horses and mules and muleteers, and pro- 
 viding the tents which were to be for several weeks our 
 " house and home." * / 
 
 * My attention was first called to Mr. Floyd by the Hon. S. S. 
 Cox, the well known Member of Congress, whom I met in Paris, 
 as he was returning from a brief tour in the Holy Land. For the 
 benefit of travellers who may yet have the same tour to make, 
 I quote the following from Eev. Joseph Cook : 
 
 After eight years' acquaintance with my American country- 
 man, Eolla Floyd, I regard him as incomparably the most accom- 
 plished, efficient, and in every way trustworthy conductor of travel 
 in Palestine and Syria. I travelled in the Holy Land under his 
 advice in 1873, and under his personal guidance with my wife in 
 1881. All my prolonged and varied experience with Mr. Floyd 
 has convinced me of the entire justice of the really immeasured 
 commendation which it is well known has been heaped upon him 
 by hundreds of travellers whom he has conducted through the 
 Holy Land, and especially by the London firm of Cook's Tourist 
 Agency, of which he was the foremost representative in Palestine 
 
TOMBS OF THE KINGS. 75 
 
 With sucli preparations, we mustered on the morning 
 of the 11th of April at an inn without the gate on the Jaffa 
 road. Half an hour was spent in trying the horses that 
 were to carry us. Each one of the party mounted several 
 and tried their paces, and when each had made his selec- 
 tion, saddles had to be adjusted, till at last all were satisfied, 
 and we began slowly and dehberately our long journey. / 
 
 Hardly were we in the saddle before we dismounted at 
 the Tombs of the Kings, which are but a short distance 
 without the city walls. The ancient Jews, like the Egyp- 
 tians (from whom perhaps they derived the custom), paid 
 great honor to their dead, as we see in the Tombs of the 
 Judges and the Tombs of the Prophets. Indeed their 
 honor to the dead was sometimes greater than their respect 
 for the authority of the living. Christ rebukes them for 
 their hypocrisy in "building the tombs of the prophets, 
 and garnishing the sepulchres of the righteous," when 
 their conduct showed that they were "the childi'en of 
 them which killed the prophets." Whether these Tombs 
 of the Kings be really the place where the monarchs of 
 
 and Syria for seven years. This firm has often eulogized in the 
 strongest language in its official pamphlets and periodicals his 
 honesty, courage, intelligence, skill and success as a conductor of 
 travel. It has pointed with pride to his knowledge of the Holy 
 Land, his extraordinary familiarity with Scriptural allusions to 
 the sacred places, his perfect command of the Arabic language, 
 and the universal esteem in which he is held by the Arabs, and 
 even by the Bedaween tribes. Acting now as an independent con- 
 ductor of travel, ]\Ir. Floyd is sometimes treated by powerful tour- 
 ist agencies as a dangerous rival. It remains true, however, that 
 the commendations just cited are thoroughly deserved, and that 
 his eleven years of experience as a guide has made him unsur- 
 passable in his department. I take pleasure in commending hira 
 to the visitors of the Holy Land, and I write this testimonial with- 
 out his solicitation. Joseph Cook (Boston). 
 Jaffa, Palestine, Dec. 15, 1881. / 
 
76 LAST SIGHT OF JERUSALEM. 
 
 Judah and of Israel were laid, is -uncertain ; but at least 
 here was a grand mausoleum. Descending a broad flight 
 of steps, we find ourselves in a large court, which opens 
 into numerous side chambers, where successive kings were 
 laid in their royal house of death. Alas, that such a vast 
 subterranean temple, chiselled out of the sohd rock, could 
 not keep their dust. The tombs are tenantless, the sepul- 
 chres are empty — even the very names of those who once 
 slept here are unknown. Such is the fate of the greatest 
 as well as the least of those who are born to die. It is not 
 only " dust to dust," but dust to obhvion. 
 
 A little farther on our way, we reached the top of 
 Scopus, that broad plateau on which Titus camped with 
 his army for the fatal siege. Here we reined in our horses, 
 and tui^ned to take a last look at Jerusalem. We could 
 not see it very clearly, as a wind from the sea had blown 
 up a mist which hung over the city ; yet we could trace 
 the line of the walls by the towers which rose above them, 
 and which were surmounted in turn by the Mosque of 
 Omar, as we had often seen the mightier dome of St. Paul's 
 towering through the cloud that hangs over London. And 
 thus, while we gazed with lingering eyes, the vision seemed 
 to fade away hke a phantom city, and with it our last 
 sight of the earthly Jerusalem. / 
 
 Turning to pursue our journey, we have an opportunity 
 to survey our party as it stretches along the line of march. 
 All are mounted on horses, except the Enghsh lad}^ who 
 not being strong enough to undertake a three weeks' ride, 
 is carried in a palanquin, a huge affair, borne by two 
 mules. If we had had a broad and level road before us, it 
 might have been swung between them, as a sort of ham- 
 mock is sometimes swung between two camels on the 
 desert. But the bridle-paths of Palestine are quite too 
 narrow for two mules, or two horses, or even two small 
 
OUR PAKTY THE MODERN CRUSADERS. 77 
 
 donkeys, to go abreast. So one of tlie mules is harnessed 
 in front, while the other comes behind. They are huge 
 creatures, lai'ge and strong, as they need to be to support 
 such a load, going up and down the roct^^ hills of Palestine. 
 The palanquin is veiy cumbrous and awkward ; but the 
 lady who sits in it says that it is not uncomfortable ; while 
 its very hugeness gives an air of grandeur and dignity to our 
 whole party. Gathered round such a " chariot," we who are 
 outriders, feel as if we were a royal escort, attending the 
 Queen of Sheba on her way to pay a visit to King Solomon. 
 There is nothing like imagination to give a touch of 
 majesty to one's goings, and convert an ordinary ride into 
 a royal progress. Sitting erect on my SjTian steed, I fancy 
 myseK a Crusader taking the field for the recovery of the 
 Holy Sepulchre, and whisper sotto voce the opening line of 
 Spenser's Faiiy Queen : 
 
 "A gentle knight came pricking o'er the plain " 
 
 — a description which applies perfectly to the present 
 rider, except that he is not " a gentle knight " ; that " the 
 plain " is a succession of rough hills ; and that instead of 
 " pricking over " them, we rarely go out of a walk. With 
 these exceptions, the resemblance is complete ; though it 
 is reduced pretty much to this, that, like the " gentle 
 knight," I am mounted on horseback, and riding in the 
 land of the Crusaders./ 
 
 If our march be slow, so much the better opportunity 
 does it give to observe the country and study the physical 
 geography of Palestine. The best substitute for personal 
 observation is a good " raised map," which gives the moun- 
 tains in rehef, with the great depression of the Jordan and 
 the Dead Sea. A glance will show how Palestine is divided 
 by a mountain ridge, which forms the backbone of the 
 country. This ridge is seamed and scarred throughout its 
 
78 GEOGRAPHY OF PALESTINE. 
 
 whole length, and its sides cut into ravines, through which 
 a hundi'ed streams, fi'om the poui'ing of the annual rains, 
 run off to the Jordan and the Dead Sea on one side, or the 
 Mediterranean on the other. As the hills are all of strati- 
 fied hmestone, the rains which have denuded them of vege- 
 tation have laid bare the rocks, and given them a very 
 desolate appearance. At this season of the year — the 
 month of April — this desolation is reheved by the innu- 
 merable wild flowers which deck the hillsides, and the 
 harvests which are ripening in the valleys between : for it 
 is now " the time of barley-harvest."/ 
 
 But if the country were ever so cheerless, its associa- 
 tions clothe it with a majesty that is more attractive than 
 grand scenery or brilliant vegetation. As we turned away 
 from Jerusalem, and began to look round the horizon, the 
 most commanding object to the West was the ancient hill 
 of ]VIizpeh (a noble height, three thousand feet above the 
 sea), which fi'om the earUest times was a watch-tower from 
 which the Hebrew sentinels surveyed not only the Plain of 
 Sharon at its foot, but the whole country from Hebron to 
 Mount Carmel, and from the Mediterranean to the moun- 
 tains of Moab — a summit which takes its present name, 
 Neby Samwill, from the tradition that makes it at once the 
 birth-place and the burial-place of the prophet Samuel. 
 Here Saul came to him, and was chosen by him, and 
 anointed to be King of Israel ; and here he mustered " all 
 the children of Israel " " from Dan to Beersheba, with the 
 land of Gilead " (which is beyond the Jordan), presenting 
 an array of "four hundred thousand men that drew 
 sword." Such are the stirring memories that gather 
 round these hoary summits, which, as they come upon us 
 to-day, seem to cast mighty shadows on the mountains, 
 like the flying clouds which are at this moment rolling 
 upward from the Mediterranean. / 
 
SACRED ASSOCIATIONS OF PLACES. 79 
 
 As we continued our journey we passed parties of 
 pilgrims who liad come up to Jerusalem to witness the 
 services of Holy Week, and now were returning to their 
 homes, just as the ancient Jews returned from keeping the 
 Passover. In such a company often was found the Saviour 
 himself, passing over this very road, which is the road to 
 Nazareth. Indeed, one of the places through which we 
 passed, Beeroth, a town in Benjamin, where we stopped to 
 take our midday rest, is designated by tradition (which 
 must find a site for every incident in sacred story) as that 
 where Joseph and Mary first missed from the caravan the 
 wonderful child, and returned to Jerusalem to find him in 
 the Temple disputing with the doctors. 
 
 Other names of hamlets remind us that we are passing 
 over places famihar in the Old Testament, such as Nob and 
 Gibbeah, and Ataroth and Rock Rimmon. Just now we 
 are riding through Ramah, and instantly recurs that most 
 pathetic passage : "In Rama was there a voice heard, 
 lamentation and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel 
 weeping for her childi-en, and would not be comforted, 
 because they are not." As we think of the bereaved 
 mother, the whisperings of sorrow seem still to rise from 
 the ground that has been wet with her tears, and to fill the 
 air that has trembled with the voice of her lamentation. 
 
 This region is full of patriarchal memories. Do you 
 see that hill yonder, rising on the opposite side of a soft 
 green valley ? That is Bethel — the very spot where Abra- 
 ham, when a wanderer "journeying towards the South," 
 " pitched his tent," and " builded an altar unto the Lord " 
 (Grenesis xii. 8), and to which Jacob returned as a place of 
 holy visitations, and casting himseK on the ground, with a 
 stone for a pillow, saw a ladder whose top reached to 
 heaven, and the angels of God ascending and descending 
 upon it. It were easy to make light of these sacred associ- 
 
80 BETHEL. 
 
 ations, especially when we see such hallowed places dese- 
 crated by a wretched village and a miserable population. 
 But to a devout mind, whose thoughts are far away on 
 times long gone, there is an inspiration in the thought that 
 this very ground has been touched by angels' feet ; that 
 here on this rocky height, the patriarch, choosing one of 
 its stones on which to rest his weary head, fell asleej), and 
 to his closed eyes there came the heavenly vision. May 
 we not find in the wanderings of that ancient pilgrim, a 
 type of our own wanderings through this world, and pray 
 that in our loneliness, in the darkness of the night, we may 
 catch some ghmpse of an opened heaven, and so be 
 brought nearer to God : 
 
 •* Though like the wanderer, 
 
 The sun gone down, 
 Darkness be over me, 
 
 My rest a stone. 
 Yet in my dreams I'd be 
 Nearer, my God, to thee. 
 
 Nearer to thee. 
 
 Continuing our jom^ney, we passed over a rugged coun- 
 try, sometimes riding on the very crest of the hills, and 
 then descending into valleys green with the freshness of 
 the early Spring, which were all the more beautiful from 
 contrast with the rocky hillsides. The constant ascents 
 and descents, and windings here and there, gave a pleas- 
 ant variety to our ride, which made us forget the rough- 
 ness of the path beneath our feet. Some of the valleys 
 were mere dells, whose narrowness, so closely were they 
 shut in by the hiUs, was unpleasantly suggestive of such 
 interruptions to the pleasure of travel as befeU the man 
 who went down to Jericho, for indeed nothing is easier 
 than to " fall among thieves." Just here, where a rising 
 cliff offers a grateful shade from the afternoon sun, and the 
 
SINJIL WATCHING AGAINST THIEVES. 81 
 
 water" trickling down the face of the rock is as cooling as 
 if dripping fi'om " the moss-covered bucket that hangs in 
 the well," it adds to the charm of the secluded spot to be 
 reminded that this is the famous Robbers' Fountain, near 
 which several caves offer convenient hiding places from 
 which they might spring out on the unsuspecting traveller. 
 However, we rode on with no interruption, receiving only- 
 pleasant salutations from the people in the villages or at 
 work in the fields, or the pilgrims who were keeping their 
 homeward march. 
 
 As it drew towards evening, we turned from our for- 
 ward course and rode up a hillside to the little hamlet of 
 Sinjil, where we halted at a well known camping ground 
 for travellers. We were not surprised that parties Uked to 
 camp there, for the situation is beautiful — on a hill-top 
 which commands a wide outlook over the country. Here 
 we pitched our tents near the village, whose neighborhood 
 might give us a sense of protection — the first thing to be 
 thought of in travelling through Palestine. Hardly were 
 the horses unsaddled and picketed before the dragoman 
 sent to the head-man of the village for a guard to make us 
 safe against marauders, to which he received the pleasing 
 answer that the appointed " guardians of the peace " were 
 " unavoidably detained," for the reason that he had sent 
 guards for two parties before us, both of which had found 
 the temptation so great, that instead of keeping off thieves, 
 they had turned robbers themselves, for which they had 
 been arrested and thrown into prison ! Indeed, to confess 
 the whole truth, he had been so unfortunate that a dozen 
 of his faithful servants were now in jail at Nablous for 
 making too free with the property of travellers. Being 
 thus deprived of our " natural protectors," the dragoman 
 was obUged to faU back on his otvti trusty revolvers. He 
 took out his brace of six-baiTelled pistols, to see that they 
 
82 IN THE TERRITORY OF EPHRAIM. 
 
 were loaded, and sticking them in his belt, sent word to 
 the sheikh that he intended to stand guard himself, and 
 advised him to look out that none of his thievish rascals 
 came within range. The hint was not lost : not a mouse 
 stirred. True, the muleteers passed an anxious night, as 
 they had to alternate in watches ; while poor Floyd slept 
 with one eye open, or rather did not sleep at aU. But 
 thanks to such protection, we slept as tranquilly as if we 
 had been in a quiet New England village. 
 
 But whatever the watchings or the dangers of the night, 
 the rising sun drove away all such thoughts, as it dispelled 
 the mists that rose up from the vaUey below, and we were 
 soon in the saddle, " pricking " over the hills and winding 
 through the vaUeys vdth exquisite delight. 
 
 Already in a single day's journey we had been in the 
 territory of three of the Jewish tribes. Starting from that 
 of Judah, we had passed through "the lot of Benjamin," and 
 entered into the larger and broader territory of Ephraim, 
 the central region of Palestine, and one of remarkable 
 fertihty. In the allotments to the different tribes, a special 
 inheritance fell to the house of Joseph. When Jacob 
 called his sons around his deathbed, to tell them what 
 should befall them in the last days, he said : " Joseph is a 
 fruitful bough by a weU, whose branches run over the 
 wall. The archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at 
 him, and hated him. But his bow abode in strength, and 
 the arms of his hands were made strong by the hands of 
 the mighty God of Jacob " ; and then foretold for him 
 and his descendants great temporal prosperity as the 
 reward of fihal love — a benediction which is repeated in 
 the words of the dying Moses : 
 
 And of Joseph he said, Blessed of the Lord be his land, for 
 the precious things of heaven, for the dew, and for the deep that 
 coucheth beneath, 
 
SHILOH. 83 
 
 And for the precious fruits brought forth by the sun, and for 
 [the precious things put forth by the moon, 
 
 And for the chief things of the ancient mountains, and for the 
 precious things of the lasting hills, 
 
 And for the precious things of the earth and fulness thereof, 
 and for the good will of him that dwelt in the bush : let the bless- 
 ing come upon the head of Joseph, and upon the top of the head 
 of him that was separated from his brethren. 
 
 His glory is like the firstling of his bullock, and his horns are 
 like the horns of unicorns : with them he shall push the people 
 together to the ends of the earth : and they are the ten thousands 
 of Ephraim, and they are the thousands of Manasseh. 
 
 Of course the glory of that ancient time has passed 
 away, but something of the beauty of Ephraim lingers still 
 in these hills and valleys. Many of the hillsides, through 
 which the strata of rock crop out here and there, are culti- 
 vated ; the remains of old terraces still bear orchards of 
 olives and fig trees ; while the valleys remind us of that 
 South Country which so enchanted us as we came up out 
 of the desert. Nor is Ephraim wanting in ancient and 
 sacred associations. On the contrary it is much older than 
 Judah. Our ride this morning led across a fertile plain, 
 on which rose a gentle eminence marked by some old 
 ruins. This was Shtloh, the very centre of the first He- 
 brew State, where the Tabernacle was set up and the Ark 
 of the Lord was kept hundreds of years before the build- 
 ing of the Temple. Here the tribes gathered as in later 
 times at Jerusalem. Here lived the prophet Eli till he 
 was nearly a hundred years old, when he fell at the tidings 
 that the Ark of God was taken. What interest gathers 
 round these ancient altars ! How they tell the story of an 
 age when the religion was the government, and the prophet 
 a judge. "He had judged Israel forty years." This spot 
 links together two periods of Jewish history— Eli, the last 
 of the Judges, with Samuel, who grew up at his feet, and 
 who anointed Saul, the first of the line of Kings. 
 
84 Jacob's well. 
 
 Other sacred scenes rose in sight before the day was 
 over. About noon we came out upon a liill-top which 
 commanded a view for many miles up the great plain of 
 Mukhna, where Jacob fed his flocks, with Mount Gerizim 
 in the distance. Pursuing our way in the afternoon, we 
 came to Sychar, "where was a weU" which was dug by 
 father Jacob himself, and where more than seventeen hun- 
 di-ed years later Jesus sat and talked to the woman of 
 Samaria. 
 
 Here we dismounted, and sat down by the well, which 
 had such sacred memories. There was at first a feeling of 
 disapj)ointment to find it a neglected spot. Its desolate 
 appearance makes some almost regret to have seen it, 
 while others keep away lest the sight should be even pain- 
 ful, as it dispelled their hallowed associations. In the 
 conversation with Mr. Spurgeon, to which I have referred, 
 he said with a good deal of vehemence that "nothing 
 could induce him to visit the Holy Land," in support of 
 which he related the experience of a fiiend (I think an 
 American clergyman) on this very spot, to which he had 
 come as a holy place, thinking how he would " sit on the 
 weU," as his Master did, and taking out his Bible, read 
 again the beautiful story of Christ's conversation with the 
 woman of Samaria, musing on the wonderful scene with 
 tender emotion. But, said Mr. Spurgeon, when he came 
 to the spot, he found it neglected and desolate, and his 
 devout meditations interrupted by a crowd of importunate 
 beggars, clamoring for backsheesh ! This was a dismal 
 prospect to set before a traveller just starting for the East, 
 "going bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem." But our 
 experience was more fortunate. We had no annoyance. 
 To be sui'e, the place is neglected. But that mattered 
 little ; it would not have helped the impression if we had 
 come upon a spring abundant as that of Elisha at Jericho, 
 
Joseph's tomb. 85 
 
 bubbling up in a marble fountain. Here was nothing but 
 an old well — old indeed, for it was dug by our father Jacob 
 more than three thousand years ago. This is one of the few 
 spots in Palestine whose identity is almost certain, and which 
 is therefore truly venerable. It is not the well of Herod, 
 or of any of the Roman conquerors, but of one whose very 
 name gave it a sacredness even before the time of Christ, 
 and to which he came as a hallowed spot. Here the patri- 
 arch lived with all his sons around him, save one whom he 
 supposed to be dead, but who had been sold into captivity 
 and carried down to Egypt, and there risen to power, to 
 be in time the savior of his father's house. To that long- 
 lost son, in memory of his filial devotion, Jacob gave this 
 very plot of ground on which we are now standing, and in 
 which, two hundred years after his death, his body was 
 laid. There are few more touching illustrations of a love 
 strong in death — the love of one's early home, such as to 
 make him desire to be buried near the spot where he was 
 born — than the last command of Joseph. He was about 
 to die — to die in Egypt, amid all the splendor of the court 
 of Pharaoh. But at that moment his thoughts were not 
 on the banks of the Nile ; they wandered back to the 
 scenes of his childhood, to the time when he had been a 
 shepherd's boy and kept his father's flock ; and calling his 
 brethren around him, he said " I die ; but God will surely 
 visit you, and bring you out of this land unto the land 
 which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, And 
 Joseph took an oath of the children of Israel, saying God 
 will sui-ely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from 
 hence. So Joseph died, being an hundred and ten years 
 old ; and they embalmed him, and he was put in a coffin 
 in Egypt." But there he was not to remain. When came 
 the time of the Exodus of the Israehtes, his bones were 
 taken with pious care, and carried with them in all their 
 
86 JACOBUS AVELL. 
 
 marches, till finally laid, to rest in this very piece of 
 ground, which his father Jacob bought for a portion for 
 him. 
 
 Joseph's Tomb is but a short distance from Jacob's 
 WeU, into which we are now looking down. The top 
 has been partly arched over, covering a little s]3ace around 
 what we should call the " curb " of the well. The drago- 
 man gave me his strong arm, and lifting me over this upper 
 and outer rim, let me down a few feet to a point from 
 which I got a nearer view of the depth below. Explorers 
 who have measured it have found it over a hundred feet 
 deep, but a part of this has been filled up by the stones 
 cast into it. 
 
 But how came Jacob to dig such a weU ? is a question 
 often asked. He was close to the Yale of Shechem, which 
 is full of streams. What need of boring a hundred feet 
 through the sohd rock to find what a mile or two distant 
 was running away in exhaustless abundance ? The answer 
 is that neighbors are not always friends ; that the inhab- 
 itants of the towns and the shepherds of the plains had 
 little to do with each other, and even might be in open 
 feud. In the time of Christ "the Jews had no dealings 
 with the Samaritans," and seventeen hundred years before 
 the progenitor of the Hebrew race may have been to them 
 a stranger and an alien. The people of Shechem might be 
 friendly to-day, and enemies to-morrow ; and though they 
 might have water flowing through their city, they might at 
 any moment shut it off from him. With all his flocks and 
 herds, he could not be dependent on such an uncertain 
 supply. And so he dug this weU, " and drank thereof 
 himself, and his children, and his cattle." The woman of 
 Samaria, who came here to draw water, had probably been 
 out on the plain tending the flocks, and at the sixth hour 
 — noon — had no other spring to go to but Jacob's Well. 
 
BETWEEN EBAL AND GERIZIM. 87 
 
 But the chief interest of this spot is that One greater 
 than Jacob or Joseph has been here. On this very ground, 
 sitting where we now sit, our Saviour sat, and talked with 
 the woman of Samaria, reveaUng to her astonished eyes 
 that in the worship of God the place matters Httle ; that 
 " neither in this mountain," looking up to.Gerizim which 
 rose above them, "nor yet at Jerusalem," shall men "wor- 
 ship the Father ": for that " God is a spmt, and they that 
 worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." 
 
 With such thoughts of the Great Master, whose pres- 
 ence has touched all these heights and vaUeys with a glory 
 like that of the setting sun, which now gilds the tops of 
 Ebal and Gerizim, we mounted our horses and rode 
 through the narrow vaUey which separates them, and 
 passing round the town, camped under some old olive 
 trees at its western end, at the foot of Mount Gerizim. 
 "We were now in Nablous, the ancient Shechem. As our 
 visit here was somewhat full of incident, it is worthy of a 
 fuller description. 
 
CHAPTEE Vm. 
 
 NABLOUS A DAY THAT WAS NOT ALL SU^^SHINE 
 
 A TALE OF ROBBERY AND OF TURKISH JUSTICE. 
 
 In " wandering througli the wilderness of this world," 
 I have had varied experiences — days that were bright and 
 days that were dark, and days that were both bright and 
 dark, cloud and sunshine following each other in quick 
 succession. But not many days have I had an;)^where the 
 experience of which was so far from previous expectation, 
 as that we spent in the ancient city of Nablous. As we 
 entered the valley, there was something in the very atmos- 
 phere which revived us. We were greeted with the sound 
 of running streams (there are said to be seventy springs 
 issuing from the hills), which rush joyously through the 
 valley. We were entering a city of Samaria whose history 
 goes back to the time of the Captivity, when the Ten 
 Tribes were carried away to Assyria, and earlier still, to 
 the days when Jacob fed his flocks on the adjacent plain. 
 We had come up from Jacob's Well, the place where our 
 Lord had been, and passed between Mount Ebal and 
 Mount Gerizim, from which it seemed as if alternate bless- 
 ing and cui'sing roUed over oui' heads. And now we were 
 camped at the foot of Gerizim, the mount of blessing, the 
 very clouds of which ought to rain perpetual benediction. 
 
NABLOUS. 89 
 
 As we approaclied our camping ground, Floyd recog- 
 nized an old acquaintance in the person of an English 
 missionary, Mr. El Karey, long resident in Nablous, who 
 followed us to our tents, and after a kindly welcome, offered 
 to conduct us through the town, that is worth seeing, as 
 it is next to Jerusalem in population, which it far surpasses 
 in commercial activity. Nablous is one of the few places 
 in the East that have been touched with the business life 
 of the modern world. It seemed as if the rushing streams 
 had communicated to the people a little of their own rapid 
 movement. At least they have set the wheels of industry 
 in motion. Besides the oil presses which receive the 
 abundant yield of the olive orchards that we have seen all 
 along our course, and turn it into oil, there are some 
 twenty factories engaged in turning the oil into soap, 
 which has become a large article of export to Jaffa and 
 Beirut, and thence to all the ports of the Mediterranean. 
 It was really refi'eshing, after passing through so many 
 places that were more dead than alive, to come to one town 
 that showed a sign of life in this sleepy old country. 
 
 But the chief interest of Nablous to a traveller is that it 
 introduces him to the Samaritans. It is the only place in 
 Palestine where there is a remnant of this ancient sect. 
 In the town of Samaria itself there are no Samaritans ; all 
 are at Nablous, and here they are very few, and fast fading 
 away. A hundred and fifty souls is the whole remnant of 
 the Samaritan people, counting men, women, and children ! 
 Their fewness and feebleness are indicated by the pettiness 
 of their synagogue — a small room, with bare whitewashed 
 walls ; and yet it contains a manuscript of the Pentateuch 
 (theii- Bible is limited to the Five Books of Moses) which 
 they affii-m is the oldest in the world, and regard as a 
 priceless treasure. They claim that it was 'v\Titten by a 
 great-grandson of Aaron ; certainly it is yellow enough to 
 
90 THE SAMARITANS. 
 
 have come out of the Ark They are such a " feeble folk," 
 so few and so poor, that the high priest (a descendant of 
 the tribe of Levi) ekes out a living by showing travellers 
 the S}Tiagogue and the sacred scroll, and even offered to 
 sell us his photograph ! And yet such is the pride of an 
 ancient race, that this handful of Samaritans still cling to 
 the beHef that they, and they only, are the true people of 
 God. Three times a year they go up on Mount Gerizim, 
 and keep the festivals prescribed by the law of Moses, 
 while they celebrate the Passover by sacrifices — the only 
 people professing to worship Jehovah, who continue that 
 ancient rite. Mount Gerizim is the only place in the 
 world where still ascends the smoke of sacrifice. The 
 Passover is kept with the strictest observance of every 
 detail enjoined by Moses, with the hurried repast of bitter 
 herbs and unleavened bread, while they eat the Paschal 
 lamb with girdles about theii* loins, and staff in hand, as if 
 preparing for instant flight. What is left is burned with 
 fire, in imitation of the ancient Israehtes, who left only 
 ashes behind them, as they turned their backs on Egypt, 
 and took up their march through the desert. The con- 
 tinued existence of such a fragment of people is an extra- 
 ordinary spectacle, and is a subject for study. I hardly 
 know anywhere of an instance of such tenacity of beUef. 
 Here is a sect which was in existence in the time of Christ, 
 and probably hundreds of years before : for it is supposed 
 to date from the time of Nehemiah, when, not being per- 
 mitted to share in the rebuilding of the Temple, they sepa- 
 rated themselves from the Jews ; which has Hved through 
 all the storms and persecutions of more than two thousand 
 years ; and which, it may be, will not die till it dies with 
 the race. If there comes a time when there is a "last 
 man," it would be in keeping with the spirit of his race if 
 he were to go up on Mount Gerizim, and there build an 
 
THE BEDAWEEN^. 91 
 
 altar unto tlie Lord, and kindling a sacrifice, lie down to 
 die, that the flame of sacrifice and the flame of life might 
 expii'e together. 
 
 After our excursion, IVIr. El Karey returned with us to 
 camp, and we kept him to dinner. With true American 
 inquisitiveness, I plied him with all sorts of questions 
 about the country and the people. He liked the town 
 veiy much. Indeed I believe he was born here : his name 
 is Eastern, though he was educated in England. He liked 
 the i^eople, although they are very bigoted and fanatical 
 Moslems ; and when he first came in contact with them as 
 a missionary, the relation was not at all pleasant. But 
 acquaintance and intercourse had gradually softened their 
 animosit3\ In one respect he paid a high tribute to their 
 vii-tue. He said that anything like iDubhc prostitution, 
 the open and unblushing licentiousness which is the dis- 
 grace of European cities, was here absolutely unknown. 
 It will be said that the Moslem religion legalizes impurity 
 in another form, by its domestic customs. But whatever 
 the explanation, this seemed to me a very extraordinary 
 testimony to be borne to a Moslem people by a Christian 
 missionaiy. 
 
 He told us many things about the Bedaween. He had 
 made frequent excursions to the other side of the Jordan, 
 where there are some powerful tribes, which boast of theii* 
 tens of thousands of spears, and have more than once 
 defied the armies of the Sultan. Some years since the 
 Tui'kish government sent a large force against them, which 
 they defeated. The Bedaween are sjDlendid horsemen, and 
 mustering in battle array, they rode down the Tui'kish 
 infantry with a rush that swept everything before them. 
 "Here is the place," said an old sheikh, riding over the 
 field with the missionary, and his eyes flashed as he said 
 " How we did give it to them ! " The second time the 
 
92 STOEIES OF THE BEDAWEEN. 
 
 result was different. But, said the sheikh, unwilling to 
 admit that they could be defeated in honorable battle, 
 " it was not the Turks that beat us — it was the cMldren of 
 the mules ! " It appeared that in the second battle, warned 
 bj their defeat, the Tui'ks brought up a large force of 
 artillery, using the same weapon with which Napoleon had 
 destroyed the Mamelukes of Egypt. The cannon were 
 drawn on the ground by mules, which being driven in 
 front, looked at a distance like a procession of beasts of 
 burden hauling a baggage train, until they joarted to the 
 right and left, and the batteries opened with shot and 
 shell. This seemed to the Bedaween, accustomed to fight 
 on horseback, an infernal device. In the confusion and 
 uproar, no wonder that they imagined that the balls which 
 cut through their ranks had somehow come from the 
 mules, who seemed suddenly to have tongues of fire, and 
 to hurl destmction out of their huge mouths. These 
 "fiery darts " were " the children of the mules." It was. 
 the first time that I knew that mules had childi'en, but if 
 they had, it seemed quite in character that such unnatural 
 progeny should appear in flame and smoke. 
 
 These wild children of the desert could hardly be sup- 
 posed to be very hopeful subjects of missionary labor, nor 
 could he report much success. But at least they had 
 received him kindly. He knew all their tribes, and went 
 among them without fear ; and though they were a race 
 of robbers, they did him no wrong. True, he took good 
 care to carry nothing with him to tempt their cupidity. 
 He went without scrip or purse, and always rode straight 
 to the tent of the sheikh, and claimed his hospitality, and 
 placed himself under his protection. Nor did they ever 
 belie his confidence, or betray their guest. On the con- 
 trary, they had received him as if he had been one of their 
 own tribe, and gave him the best they had, and he had 
 
THEIR HOSPITALITY. 93 
 
 lain down in their tents, and slept in safety. They showed 
 him hospitality sometimes at great trouble to themselves. 
 One night he came to a tent, and was almost dying with 
 hunger, but saw no sign of preparation to satisfy his crav- 
 ing. He did not then know the reason, which was that 
 they had nothing to set before him. At last weary and 
 faint, he wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down, 
 hoping to forget the pangs of hunger in sleep. But pres- 
 ently he heard whisperings, and women left the tent, and 
 went out into the darkness. At last he dropped asleep, 
 and when he awoke it was broad day. He then learned 
 that the women had made a three hours journey on foot to 
 bring water from a spring to cook a breakfast for him, and 
 towards morning a sheep had been killed, and now was 
 set before him a feast which it had cost them all night to 
 prepare. No wonder he was touched by such kindness. 
 He said the Bedaween often paid him a visit when they 
 came to Nablous, and he always set food and drink before 
 them, and thus tried in some way to return the hospitality 
 shown him by the children of the desert. 
 
 These were pleasant things to talk about as we sat in 
 the gloaming under the ancient olive trees. At length he 
 rose to depart. " By the way," said the dragoman, " would 
 you be so kind as to stop at the headquarters of the officer 
 in command of the troops, and ask him to send us a guard 
 for the night ? " " Of course." But reaUy it seemed quite 
 unnecessary in a city so populous, and apparently so 
 thoroughly governed : for Nablous is one of the centres of 
 Tui'kish power in Palestine ; it has not only a governor, 
 but a garrison in command of an officer of high rank, who 
 had under him, it was said, a thousand men. We saw 
 their barracks as we rode up the valley. It was not an 
 unpleasant sight in this lawless country. I confess it gave 
 us a sense of secuiity to feel that we had come at last 
 
94 A ROBBERY IN THE CAMP. 
 
 within the range of guns. It seemed as if such a military 
 force were enough to hold in check any propensities of an 
 iU-disposed population, if such there were, and that we 
 needed no special guard. However, just for the dignity 
 of the thing, we submitted to this miUtary protection, and 
 perhaps were a Httle lifted up in mind when four soldiers 
 filed into camp, and took their places, one before each tent. 
 What a sense of greatness it gives to the most insignificant 
 traveller to see a soldier standing guard before his door ! 
 With such a protector, I lay down to sleep, feehng as did 
 another in fancied security, when 
 
 "At midnight, in his guarded tent, 
 The Turk was dreaming of the hour." 
 
 Such were my dreams, when bang ! went a gun, and there 
 was a sound of feet scurrying to and fro. But even that 
 excited no alarm, for though it betokened danger, it showed 
 that the guardians of our safety were awake and vigilant ; 
 so lilje the dreaming Turk, I turned and went to sleep 
 again. But as the dawn of day crept slowly on, for it was 
 raining, and the morning was dark and lowery, the di-ago- 
 man appeared at the door of the tent, with a troubled face, 
 to ask " if we had been robbed." " Bobbed ? No. Why 
 do you ask ? " " Because your neighbors in the next tent 
 have been" So much for our military protectors! The 
 next tent was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Winter, the Eng- 
 lish gentleman and his wife, who had taken extraordinary 
 precautions to insure the safety of their valuables, which 
 were locked in a traveUing-bag that was always kept with 
 them, and when they retired to their tent, was fastened to 
 the tent-pole ! But in the night some one had cut through 
 the canvas of the tent, and creeping softly between the two 
 iron bedsteads, whose occupants were sleeping, cut the 
 fastening and dragged off the precious bag, which was 
 found not a hundred yards from the tent, rifled of its con- 
 
WERE THE GUARDS THE ROBBERS? 95 
 
 tents, including a sandal-wood box, wliicli contained a 
 number of souvenirs picked up on tbe Continent, among 
 them a pair of bracelets that had cost a hundred and fifty 
 pounds! Here was a sensation which brought us all to 
 om- feet and out of our tents. Our first thought was, 
 What inexcusable negligence on the part of our guai^ds ! 
 until a little fuiiher reflection led us to think that per- 
 haps the guards were themselves the robbers ! This idea 
 took such strono- hold of us that as we turned to look at 
 them, their blank faces seemed a silent confession of 
 guilt, and we had them at once seized by our muleteers, 
 and marched off to the office of the military command- 
 ant, to receive instant punishment for their crime. Mr. 
 "Winter and the dragoman went along to witness their 
 condemnation. Wlioever has been in an Eastern court, 
 knows that it is a place where justice is rendered, if ren- 
 dered at all, " without mercy." The Colonel was at his 
 headquarters, and as soon as he heard the story, ordered 
 the soldiers into his presence, and accused them directly 
 of the crime, bursting out upon them in a rage and fury 
 that were really appalling. They were thieves, robbers, 
 wretches of the blackest dye. " He knew their guilt ; they 
 could not deceive him." If they did not at once return 
 the stolen goods, he would have them beaten within an 
 inch of their lives. This violence of language was accom- 
 panied with such violence of manner, that those who heard 
 him almost looked to see the wretched creatui'es thrown 
 on the ground and bastinadoed on the spot. Nor would 
 bastinadoing be sufficient ; he would " tear out their eyes 
 from their sockets," and "cut theu' tongues from their 
 throats " ! Even then his wrath would not be appeased : 
 he would have their wives and children made beggars, or 
 sold as slaves ! Those who Hstoned, thought that the 
 majesty of justice had never appeared in a form so awful ; 
 
96 TURKISH JUSTICE. 
 
 that " TurMsli justice " at least was more than a name ; 
 that it was a fearful reahty, since it was now to be vindi- 
 cated before their eyes by a retribution so swift and 
 terrible. 
 
 An hour passed, and a change came over the spirit of 
 our dream. Scarcely had Floyd returned to the camp 
 before we saw through the trees some important personage 
 approaching, and soon appeared the officer in command 
 himself, with half a dozen attendants, and with our guards, 
 who were marched on the ground to be confronted with 
 their accusers. They protested their innocence, though 
 they contradicted themselves in a way to leave little doubt 
 of their guilt. The of&cer dismounted with a somewhat 
 haughty air, and was conducted to a tent, where, being 
 first supplied with coffee and cigarettes, he took his seat of 
 state, and summoning his secretary to take our " deposi- 
 tions," desired to make further injury into the " alleged " 
 robbery suffered by members of our party. It had sud- 
 denly dawned upon him that he had been too hasty in 
 admitting that we had been robbed by his own men. Was 
 it to be supposed that " soldiers " would be thieves ; that 
 the guardians of the law would be the breakers of the law ? 
 To confess this would be an imputation on their military 
 honor, which he could not admit without the strongest 
 proof. How did we know that our own muleteers were 
 not the thieves ? He seemed now fully convinced that our 
 Enghsh friends had been robbed by the retainers of our 
 own party, if indeed they had been robbed at all, for the more 
 he thought about it, the more it seemed to his judicial 
 mind as if the whole story were, to use a slang phrase, " a 
 put up job." This was made probable to him by the large 
 amount cf the loss. " How much did you say," he asked 
 of Mr. Winter, " you had lost ? " "A hundred and fifty 
 pounds." " That is a great deal," he answered, " as much 
 
A MISERABLE DAY. 97 
 
 as a mercliaiit would carry wlio was travelling with goods 
 to sell. A liundi'ed and fifty pounds ! " he repeated, 
 adding with a sneer, " Why do you not make it a thou- 
 sand?" evidently thinking one stoiy as probable as the 
 other. So saving, he mounted his horse, followed by his 
 secretary and other attendants, and rode away. 
 
 "We were now placed in an awkward position. Not 
 only had members of oui' party been robbed, but they were 
 under suspicion of being privy to a pretended crime of 
 which they had accused others, to extort money from the 
 Tui'kish government. 
 
 To add to the cheerfulness of the situation, it had been 
 raining all night, and promised to rain all day. We could 
 not put a foot out of the tents without stepping in mud. 
 Indeed the rain invaded our tents, and we were almost 
 afloat. We wrapped ourselves in waterproofs, and put 
 rubbers on our feet, and thus muffled up, gathered under 
 the oHve trees where but a few hours ago we had sat in 
 the twihght, and talked of the hospitality and other virtues 
 of the descendants of Ishmael. It was a dismal company. 
 The dragoman looked at me, and I looked at my fellow- 
 travellers, and they looked at the horses, whose manes and 
 tails were limp and dripping, and the horses looked at 
 the mules ; and all, man and beast, seemed bound together 
 in one companionship of misery. We were disgusted, not 
 only at the robbery, but at our impotence to punish it. I 
 will not say that we " cursed our fate," for that would have 
 been wicked; but I am afraid some of my countrymen, 
 who are not very choice in their language, would have 
 described the exhibition of that morning as a specimen of 
 "pure cussedness." If we could have followed our im- 
 pulse, I believe we should at that moment have struck our 
 tents, and mounted our horses, and turned our backs on 
 Nablous, preferring to face the storm rather than to be 
 
98 BEARDING THE LION IN HIS DEN. 
 
 thus enraged and defied. But even if we did not care for 
 the fury of the elements, we were reluctant to execute a 
 manoeuvre which would look like a retreat in face of the 
 enemy. So we determined heroically to stay and see it out. 
 After another hour of reflection, we plucked up cour- 
 age and resolved to make one more attempt. This time 
 we would beard the lion in his den — we would go to the 
 Governor himself. And that we might impress him with 
 a sense of our importance, we would go in a body. So 
 gathering up our garments, as if we would shake off the 
 dust, or rather the mud, from our feet, we marched 
 through the streets to the Serai, the official residence, and 
 demanded an audience. We were admitted into the court, 
 and shown up a stone staircase into an ante-room (which 
 had a look of extreme dilapidation) to wait the pleasure of 
 his highness. Impatient as we were, it was reviving to 
 have the attendant who went to seek his master return 
 after a few minutes' absence, and inform us that he was 
 asleep, and could not be disturbed, but that he would 
 awake some time in the forenoon, and after his breakfast, 
 would perhaps see us, unless he had more important mat- 
 ters or personages to claim his attention! Again we 
 looked in each other's faces, and behold, they were very 
 blank. If there be any thing in the world that will take 
 one's sense of dignity, or of his o^vn consequence, out of 
 him, it is to be dancing attendance in the ante-room of an 
 Eastern official, with whom time is of no consequence. It 
 was rather tedious. If we had had any " news " to feed 
 upon, even the smallest bit of gossip to nibble at, it 
 would have stayed our utter vacuity of mind. But no, we 
 had nothing to talk about or think about except our own 
 wretched selves, and we were in that disgusted state in 
 which a man holds himself in contemj)t, thinking "You 
 are a -pveity fool to get into such a scrape." To relieve the 
 
THE TURKISH GOVERNOR. 99 
 
 monotony we would now and then walk to the window and 
 look out, but could see nothing but rain, rain, rain. This 
 might not have been quite so tiresome if we could have 
 seen any Hying thing. Washington Irving has written a 
 very pleasant sketch of " a rainy day " which he passed in 
 a country inn. But he could look into a barnyard, with 
 its busy, bustling brood. If we could have seen a rooster, 
 and heard him crow, or a hen and chickens, that would 
 have been quite sufficient to set us off into a talk about 
 domestic fowls. But there was no sign of bii'd or beast : 
 the rain fell into a stone-paved court, hard and cruel as our 
 fate. So after staring at the stones, we came back fi'om 
 the window and sat down again, all in a row, like convicts 
 in the box, waiting for sentence. In this interesting occu- 
 pation we passed two mortal hours, when there was a stir 
 without, and the Governor in a fez cap mounted the staii's 
 and entered the room, and making us a gracious salaam, 
 took his seat on the divan. He was not quite the ideal of 
 a Turkish pacha, who ought always to be fat : for he was 
 a little man, with hardly flesh enough on his bones to 
 support so much dignity. The only touch of Oriental 
 magnificence about him was the heavy rings worn on his 
 dainty fingers. As he sat on the edge of the divan, his 
 feet dangled to the floor, which they hardly touched, and 
 he apj)eared to be sitting uncomfoi-tably, until suddenly 
 he drew up his legs, which, when coiled under him like a 
 cushion, furnished a sufficient base for the slender super- 
 structui'e. Thus supported, his vertebral column stood up 
 more erect, and swayed hither and thither Hke a serpent, 
 as he bowed to our petition and complaint. I have no 
 doubt he wished us all in Jericho. However, he was civil, 
 and asked many questions, and made us soft speeches, the 
 full value of which we soon understood. After a some- 
 what long interview, in which he professed great sympathy 
 
100 UNDER A MISSIONARY'S ROOF. 
 
 for our loss, and made many promises, he bowed ns out 
 just as wise as we were before, and fully convinced that 
 our j)lain, straightforward v/ays, unless backed by force, 
 were no match for Oriental cunning and duplicity. 
 
 "When we came out into the street, it was still pouring, 
 and as it was dismal to go back to our tents to pass the 
 rest of the day, and another night, perhaps to be robbed 
 again, we accepted the invitation of the missionary to 
 transfer our quarters to his house, where, though we were 
 packed pretty closely, and though, when night came, some 
 of us had to sleep on the floor, we had at least a roof over 
 our heads, and a barred door between us and any robbers 
 who might be prowling about. "We were wet and shiver- 
 ing, but we sat round the charcoal-burner till we got 
 thoroughly warmed — a sensation which restored a little 
 the equanimity of our minds. 
 
 We did not go out again that day. We had had 
 enough of Nablous, and were in no mood to make any 
 further explorations of this sacred city. Though we had 
 camped at the foot of Mount Gerizim, we did not climb to 
 the top where sacrifices had been offered for more than 
 two thousand years. Indeed of the two I think we should 
 have felt more inclined to go up on Mount Ebal, and read 
 all the curses of the law over a place which had proved to 
 us — not a holy mount, but a den of thieves. 
 
 But we would not pronounce a malediction on a place 
 where we had found at last a shelter. Here we were 
 warmed and fed, and in the returning sense of comfort, we 
 could listen with complacence to the rain which still 
 poured heavily in the streets. There is a sweet sense of 
 security in the sound of pattering rain, not when it falls on 
 soaking tents, but on a firm and tight roof. Thus we 
 passed the rest of the day in the quiet and comfort of the 
 missionary's home. 
 
LYING TURKISH PROMISES. 101 
 
 To make an end of tliis story of robbery, I will antici- 
 pate a little. The next morning, before leaving Nablous, 
 Mi\ Winter, with the dragoman, paid a second visit to the 
 Governor, and found him in a gracious mood. He did 
 not, like the Colonel, question the truth of their tale, but 
 promised the fuUest reparation. The stolen property 
 should be restored to the very last mite. Not only the 
 costly jewelry, but every trifle to the last brass pin. It 
 might take several days, but when we reached Nazareth, 
 or at farthest Damascus or Beirut, the whole missing 
 property should be i)laced in the hands of the owner, 
 untouched. These assurances were given, if not with the 
 formality of an oath, yet with all the sacred sanction of 
 honor and truth. He foUowed our fiiends to the door, 
 repeating these assurances, so that the very last words 
 they heard were what so many other travellers in the East 
 have to hear— lying Turkish promises! But these false 
 words accomphshed their purpose, of raising a flutter of 
 hope in the breasts of our robbed companions. For a 
 time they felt even a little return of confidence, and were 
 buoyed up as we resumed our march by seeing their 
 treasures in the distance, which they continued to see very 
 much in the distance all the way through Palestine. At 
 each stage of our journey the pledge was freshly recalled 
 to be fL-eshly disappointed. At last, when we sailed from 
 Beinit for Constantinople, we left our English friends at 
 the hotel stiU waiting for Tiu'kish justice 1 If they were 
 determined not to depart till they had recovered what 
 they had lost, I fear they are waiting there still. Such 
 was our day in Nablous— a day that was certainly not all 
 sunshine. May we never see its like again ! 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 TO SAMARIA AND JENIN FALLING AGAIN AMONG 
 
 THIEVES. 
 
 Half tlie pleasiu'e of life is in contrast, in change from 
 one scene to another. "The clear shining after rain" is 
 beautiful because of the rain, which has cleansed and puri- 
 fied the atmosphere, and made the au' so sweet and the 
 sky so blue. But for " the rain " which has gone before, 
 we might not appreciate "the clear shining " which foUows 
 after. So in our human experience there is a peculiar zest 
 given to that which is pleasant, by the fact that it comes 
 after that which is dismal and forlorn. Such a change we 
 experienced the next morning. When the day broke, "the 
 rain was over and gone," and the sun rose without a cloud. 
 A little after seven we mounted our horses before the 
 missionary's door, and began to file through the streets of 
 Nablous, followed by the train of mules carrying our tents. 
 Everything wore a new aspect. The city had been washed 
 clean by the rains of the j)receding day, and the olive 
 orchards on the hillsides were fresh and gTcen. As the 
 sun touched the tops of the twin mountains between which 
 the valley lies, we could not find it in our hearts to pro- 
 nounce a malediction even upon Ebal, when it answered 
 
A DELIGHTFUL CONTKAST. 103 
 
 so beamingly to the first flush of day. As we rode down 
 the valley, the streams by the roadside, swollen by the 
 rains, seemed to.be running a race, bubbling and boiling 
 over in their fulness of joy. These streams unite below 
 the town, and flow thi'ough the Plain of Sharon to the 
 Mediterranean. We knew that the sea was not many 
 miles away, for a dehcious sea-breeze came up from the 
 west, and blew in our faces, filling oui' lungs with such 
 bracing air that we felt a constant impulse to shout and 
 sing. Every living thing seemed to have caught the 
 insi^iration : the time of the singing of birds had come, 
 and the flowers apx^eared on the earth. The innumerable 
 multitudes of wild flowers is one of the beauties of Pal- 
 estine, and never were they more abundant or of more 
 exquisite variety, than that morning as we rode through 
 the hills and valleys of ancient Samaria. This is the heart 
 of Palestine, its central region, and is at once the most 
 beautiful in natural scenery, and the most richly culti- 
 vated. It is indeed a land of corn and wine, of vineyards 
 and oliveyards, of the fig-tree and the pomegranate, and of 
 brooks that run among the hills. Through landscapes so 
 rich and varied we rode for a couple of hours, when we 
 saw in the distance a hill standing alone — an island in a 
 sea of verdure — its sides terraced and . blooming with the 
 olive and the vine, like those sunny slopes along the 
 Corniche road, in France and Italy, which open their 
 breasts to be warmed by the Southern sun. Below it and 
 around it stretched a wide plain, beyond which rose the 
 encircling hills ; so that the central height, standing soli- 
 tary, was like a throne set in the midst of a vast amphi- 
 theatre. 
 
 On this noble eminence stood the ancient city of 
 Samaria — a city whose origin dates from nine hundi-ed 
 years before Christ, when Omri, King of Israel, bought the 
 
104 THE CITY OF SAMARIA. 
 
 hill for two talents of silver, and built a city upon it, wliicli 
 he called after the name of Shemer, the owner of the hiU, 
 Samaria. Here a hundred years later we find a splendid 
 capital, in which Aliab, ruled by a pagan wife, built the 
 temj)le of Baal and his palace of ivory, and where Jezebel 
 (the Lady Macbeth of a king perhaps more, weak than 
 wicked) led him to play the tyrant over his unhappy peo- 
 ple. That the city must have had great resources, appears 
 from the fact that it withstood a three years' siege from 
 the army of the Syrians, which came down from the north, 
 and beleaguered the place till the inhabitants were ready 
 to die with famine, and even began to devour each other, 
 when it was delivered by a Divine interposition, in accord- 
 ance with the prediction of Elisha. We are now in the 
 country of Ehjah and Elisha, whose prophet forms are con- 
 tinually appearing and disappearing and reappearing in 
 the history of the Kings of Israel. 
 
 The beauty of the position of Samaria attracted the 
 eyes of the Roman conquerors, who made it the capi- 
 tal of Central Palestine. Here Herod the Great, who 
 had a passion for splendid architecture, and was always 
 building palaces, erected that long colonnade the remains 
 of which stiU attest its ancient magnificence. We rode up 
 the hill, and leaving our horses in charge of the mule- 
 teers, set out on a walk around the brow of the plateau, 
 tracing this colonnade. It is over half a mile long, and 
 must have numbered hundreds of columns. Sixty are stiU 
 standing, after nineteen centuries. When first erected, 
 this long line of marble columns, standing on the crest of a 
 hill, from which it could be seen to a great distance over 
 the country, must have seemed like a royal crown for the 
 monarch's brow. It was standing in the time of Christ, 
 and as He often passed through Samaria on his way from 
 Nazareth to Jerusalem, he must have seen it in all its 
 
BEAUTY OF THE COUNTRY. 105 
 
 splendor. But not once does he make allusion to it ; so 
 much less in his eye were i^rinces and palaces than humbler 
 beings in thek obscure abodes ; so much less was the 
 whiteness of marble columns than the purity of a human 
 soul. 
 
 Of course Samaria, like other towns in Palestine, is but 
 the shadow of its former self — a wretched village taking 
 the place of the fonner capital. The city is gone, but the 
 beauty of the country remains. It came upon us anew as 
 we passed round the hill, and came out on the northern 
 slope, and looked down on the terraced hillsides, and the 
 wide expanse below, over which the light and shadow 
 were playing. Descending into the plain, we rode through 
 its rich fields, and then over the hills and through the 
 fertile vales. A little to one side was Dothan, where 
 Joseph's brethren cast him into a pit, and afterwai'ds drew 
 him out to sell him to the IMidianites, who carried him 
 down to Egypt, and where Elisha saw the mountains 
 round about filled with horses and chariots of fii'e ! These 
 were great memories, which might well arrest the travel- 
 ler ; but we could not turn aside even for these, for it had 
 again set in to rain. This matter of rain is an element 
 that must never be left out of calculation. The month of 
 April is considered the best for Palestine, because it is free 
 from rain ; at least it is supposed to be. The early rains 
 come, not in the Spring, but in the Autumn, when the 
 husbandmen plow and sow. The latter rains come in 
 the Spring, and ripen the harvest. These are supposed 
 to end in March, so that properly there ought not to be 
 any rain in April. But this year the seasons are out of 
 joint. Thus far our two drawbacks to the pleasure of 
 travel in Palestine have been rains and thieves. There 
 has been a flood of rains and an epidemic of thieves. 
 To-day the rain began soon after noon, and kept on pour- 
 
106 CAMP AT JENIN. 
 
 ing harder and harder. As we climbed over the hills, with 
 the wind driving in our faces, we found it difficult to make 
 head against the combined wind and rain. The bravery of 
 my miUtary carriage disappeared. With all my desire to 
 keep a heroic attitude, I had to confess that a traveller, 
 with garments bedraggled and bespattered, trying (with 
 poor success) to keep an umbrella over his head, is not 
 quite Uke a mailed and hehneted Crusader. Of course our 
 first impulse would have been to stoj) and go into camp ; 
 but the baggage mules had gone forward with the tents, 
 and we must keep on, for we had no shelter. So we made 
 the best of it, and struggled on through the storm, thank- 
 ful at last, though drenched and weary, to reach a place of 
 rest. "We had been in the saddle ten hours. 
 
 We found our tents pitched at Jenin, on the edge of the 
 great Plain of Esdraelon. It is a town of several thousand 
 inhabitants, with a mosque, and has rather a pretty look, 
 embowered in trees, in which, among the ohve orchards, 
 rise a few stately palms that speak of a sunnier clime. We 
 camped outside of the town, but near enough to hear the 
 muezzin, as from the top of the minaret he called the faith- 
 ful to prayer. This call to prayer is always pleasant to hear 
 at the close of day, as it seems to say that we have reached a 
 place sacred to devotion, and therefore the abode of quiet- 
 ness and peace. Our dragoman, no doubt, was sensible to 
 all these soothing associations ; but warned by our experi- 
 ence at Nablous, and not placing unbounded confidence in 
 Moslem prayers or Moslem guards, he determined not to 
 trust to any outside defenders, but to keep watch himself. 
 The task was made more difficult by the dark nights. Oui* 
 moonlight nights had left us in Jerusalem, so that now we 
 had only starlight, and in these frequent rains not even 
 that ; so that the nights were " pitch dark," and dark 
 nights seem made for dark deeds. However, the drago- 
 
A MIDNIGHT ALARM. 107 
 
 man did the best he could. He had Chinese lanterns hung 
 in front and rear of every tent, and two fires burning on 
 the opposite sides of the camp, with a man at each fire, 
 and another all the time moving about. He himself was 
 to snatch a Httle sleep in the early watches, but to be caUed 
 at midnight. 
 
 With such protection we "turned in" for the night, 
 and fell asleep. It was a little past midnight when sud- 
 denly my tent door opened, and a tall form appeared. I 
 awoke and sat up, and supposing it to be the di'agoman, 
 who was to go on watch at midnight, I called him by 
 name, but received no answer. Then it flashed upon me 
 that I was honored with the visit of a "stranger," and 
 springing from the bed I seized Weeden and shook him to 
 awaken him. In a moment Floyd came rushing to the 
 tent. " Strike a hght ! " was- his fii'st word. In an 
 instant we had a candle and made a search, but found 
 nothing, and I began to think it was a false alarm, a 
 di-eam, or some wild fancy of the night. But there was 
 the tent door open, which Floyd had fastened securely 
 two or three hours before. It was aU a mystery, but I 
 might stm have thought it an iUusion but for what^ fol- 
 lowed. We had shut the door again and put out the light, 
 and were resting quietly, though but half asleep, when a 
 Httle after two we heard a pistol shot, foUowed by a rush, 
 and then crack, crack, crack, haH a dozen shots in succes- 
 sion, as fast as one could puU a trigger. Presently the 
 dragoman appeared, and the story was soon told. The 
 Chinese lanterns had been blo^vn out by the wind, and the 
 rain had extinguished the fires, so that the camp was left 
 in darkness. Floyd was groping about when he saw very 
 faintly the figure of a man near the tent of the Winters. 
 Thinking it was one of the muleteers who were at that 
 hour on watch, he caUed "Joseph," and "Moses," but 
 
108 THIEVES AROUND OUR TENTS. 
 
 receiving no reply, lie called to the shadow "Who are 
 you?" when the figure dropped instantly in the grass. 
 Then he cried to the men, " Here's a thief, come and catch 
 him," at which the man sprang up and ran, with a bullet 
 after him to quicken his steps, and the same moment two 
 others sprang up and joined in his flight. Floyd snapped 
 his pistol again, but it would not go off. It took him a 
 moment to fumble in his pocket for another and larger 
 revolver, which did not miss fire. His blood was up, and 
 he let fly shot after shot. However, the thieves made good 
 time, and were soon lost in the darkness. The whole affair 
 occupied but a few moments, but it left us in a state of 
 great excitement. All the men were up, and for them 
 there was no more sleep till morning. Chinese lanterns 
 were Hghted again at every tent, both in front and rear. 
 As the whole camp was now on guard, we, who were 
 "only passengers," felt that we were safer than ever 
 before, and lying down for the third time, slept as we 
 could till morning. 
 
 I am sorr}^ to have so much to say about thieves, but 
 the fault is not in me, but in the thieves. If they had not 
 been there, I should not have had to speak about them. 
 They have taken me a httle off my guard. I thought when 
 we left the desert, that we had entered the bounds of 
 civilization. After our experience with the Bedaween, I 
 hoped we were done with perils of robbers. But the 
 worst was to come after we left Jerusalem. I do not wish 
 to make too much of these incidents, nor to exaggerate 
 them into real "perils." There has been no tragedy. 
 Only I have had a httle taste of what other travellers have 
 had in fuller measure. It is the usage of the country, to 
 which we must all submit. "A certain man went down to 
 Jericho, and fell among thieves." He has had many suc- 
 cessors, and they do not all find a good Samaritan. For 
 
A COMMON EXPERIENCE. 109 
 
 this travellers should be prepared. So much is it a matter 
 of course, that a tour in the Holy Land is hardly com- 
 plete without a robbery. 
 
 Comparing our experience with others, we do not find 
 that we have fared worse than they. This year has been a 
 harvest time for thieves, and few have escaped. An Amer- 
 ican gentleman whom we met in Jerusalem — Mr. Chapin 
 of Providence — left the day before us. We met him again 
 in Nazareth, when he told us his experience. On the 
 second night he camped at Howara, an hour and a half 
 before reaching Nablous, and applied to the sheikh of the 
 village for a guard, who sent three men. In the night 
 a man entered his tent, and carried off his wife's car- 
 pet-bag; but finding little in it, came again, and carried 
 off his portmanteau. By this time his suspicions were 
 excited, and he gave the alarm, which brought the drago- 
 man to his tent, who, understanding the ways of the 
 country, put his pistol to the head of the chief man of the 
 guard, and told him to bring back the portmanteau. In a 
 few minutes he brought it. It was found outside the tent, 
 where it had been opened. The guards of course pro- 
 tested their innocence, but the dragoman was not deceived 
 by them ; but sure that they were the thieves, called his 
 muleteers, and ordered them to seize the sheikh and bind 
 him. No quicker said than done. Instantly they threw 
 him on the ground, and lashed his hands behind his back. 
 In this condition the dragoman tied him with a strong 
 rope to his horse's head, and literally drove him before 
 him. The others were taken in hand by the muleteers, 
 and thus all were marched to Nablous, where they were 
 recognized as old offenders, and lodged in prison. 
 
 This constant exposure to the danger of being robbed, 
 is the gi-eat drawback to the pleasure of travel in Palestine. 
 Kobbery is the curse of the country, as brigandage has 
 
110 NEED or A STRONG GOVERNMENT. 
 
 been for generations the curse of Sicily. How it is to be 
 extirpated is a difficult problem. The fault is not merely 
 in the people ; it is in this wretched Turkish government, 
 which is as weak as it is corrupt, and which, by its total 
 failure to encourage honest industry, almost compels the 
 miserable people to steal in order to live. It discourages 
 honesty, and offers a premium to crime. Such a deep- 
 seated disease can only be cui'ed by heroic surgery. I 
 hear a great deal said about this country's being " evan- 
 gelized " ; but it needs first to be governed— to be ruled 
 justly and firmly. Moral influences, when they can have a 
 chance to operate, will bring other blessings in their train. 
 But for the present we must rely upon the strong arm. 
 The country must be governed with an iron hand. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 A RIDE OVER THE PLAIN OF ESDRAELON. 
 
 / Promptly at the hour of suni^ise the muezzin climbed 
 the minaret of the mosque of Jenin, and called the faithful 
 to praj'er ; but his wailing, melancholy cry did not awaken 
 the same pensive musing as when we heard it at the hour 
 of sunset. After a night of alaiTas, of men running and 
 shots firing, with a robber at the door of my tent, I was 
 not in a mood to indulge in the luxury of sentimental 
 devotion. We felt no desire to " dwell in the tents " of 
 Jenin any longer, but were quite ready to depart. 
 
 The morning, however, was not one for rapid move- 
 ment. The dark and dismal night still lowered over the 
 opening day. The clouds hung low upon the hills, and 
 fast fell the drops which the wind blew angrily in our 
 faces. Prudent travellers would perhaps have lingered 
 awhile before leaving camp. But it was the last day of the 
 week, and we were bent on spending Sunday in Nazareth ; 
 and after our experience of the night, if it had " rained 
 pitch-forks " we should have wished to move on. So gird- 
 ing up our loins, and muffling up our breasts, we mounted 
 our horses, and set our faces to the storm. / 
 
 The result proved the wisdom of our course. When a 
 
112 THE PLAIX OF ESDRAELON. 
 
 man or a party is " in the dumps," a solemn, silent mood 
 that may sour into sullenness, there is nothing like the 
 "movement cure." In travelling, as in other things that 
 demand instant action, the American rule is a good one 
 that " the only way to do a thing is to do it," and not 
 stand thinking about it till the time for action is past. 
 However formidable the attempt may appear, it is prob- 
 able that the reality will not prove so serious as the 
 anticipation. Once in the saddle, the exercise gave us a 
 sensation of life ; the blood began to tingle in our veins, 
 and to set our dull thoughts in motion. Instead of draw- 
 ing thick wraps over our stooping shoulders, we straight- 
 ened up and began to look about and to study the 
 geography of the country. We found that we had come 
 into a new part of Palestine ; that we had left the hills 
 and come down into the plains, a change which was 
 grateful to the eye, as we had been riding for days over 
 a very rugged country. We were now in the great Plain 
 of Esdraelon, so famous in Jewish history — a plain which 
 is not monotonous like our Western prairies, because it is 
 set in an amphitheatre of hills. Central in position, it 
 makes a break between the Hill Country of the South and 
 the Mountain Country of the North, and thus at once 
 separates and unites the two great divisions of Palestine. 
 The beauty of this Plain is not only in its fei-tility, which 
 in this month of April makes it one broad expanse of green, 
 but in its bordering of hills — a feature which reminded me 
 of the Parks of Colorado, although the resemblance extends 
 only to this, that in each case there is a broad plain l}ing 
 in the lap of hills which enfold it, and seem to stand guard 
 around it. As to magnitude, there is no comparison : for 
 the whole of Palestine is but a representation in miniature 
 of the central State of our continent, traversed by the great 
 chain of the Kocky Mountains. Here both mountain and 
 
FKOM SAMARIA TO GALILEE. 113 
 
 plain are on a very reduced scale. Compared witli the 
 IVIiddle Park or the South Pai^k of Colorado, the Plain of 
 Esdi-aelon is of very moderate dimensions, while the moun- 
 tains around it are but foot-hills beside the American Alps. 
 
 But whatever this Plain may want in natural grandeur, 
 it more than makes up by historical associations. Its 
 horizon is like that of the Eoman Campagna, where 
 every summit of the Sabine and the Alban Hills has 
 its legend and story. Those hills on the South, which 
 we are leaving behind, were once held by the powerful 
 tribe of Manasseh, which played such a heroic part in 
 the Jewish wars ; that long ridge on the West, stretch- 
 ing to the Mediterranean Sea, is Mount Carmel, the 
 retreat of the Prophets Elijah and Elisha ; on the East, 
 standing apart, are the heights of Mount Gilboa and 
 Mount Tabor ; while in front of us to the North, rise the 
 Hills of Gahlee. 
 
 The natural divisions of the country determined its 
 pohtical divisions. In ancient times, when communication 
 was slow and difficult, some natural feature of a country — 
 a mountain or plain or river — was the bamer interposed 
 by nature, which separated one kingdom, or province, 
 from another. Thus the Province of Samaria ended with 
 the hiQs, and in descending to the plain, we enter another 
 province which figures far more conspicuously in the New 
 Testament history — that of Galilee. / 
 
 Kiding over the plain, a couple of hours brought us to 
 a hill, on which is perched a wretched village, but which 
 was once a habitation of princes ; for this is Jezeeel, where 
 Ahab, when he had his capital in Samaria, had his country 
 palace, his Versailles, which was the scene of many a revel 
 and many a tragedy. Here was Naboth's vineyard, of 
 which Jezebel, more resolute than her cowardly husband 
 Ahab, who did not dare to strike, stirred him up to get 
 
114 JEZREEL AKD GILBOA. 
 
 possession by plotting tlie murder of its owner — a crime to 
 be avenged on herself, for here infuriated men threw the 
 wicked queen out of the palace window, and in Naboth's 
 vineyard the dogs licked up her blood ! Of such tragic 
 tales, how much of ancient history is made up, and of 
 modern history also ; for human nature does not change 
 with the progress of civilization, and human selfishness, 
 however veiled by forms, is still the same. Boast as we 
 may of "new men, new times," we find in every age the 
 same old world, " the same old crimes.'/ 
 
 But we are in the neighborhood of a tragedy greater 
 and more mournful than the death of Ahab and Jezebel, 
 for the hill of Jezreel is at the western extremity of Mount 
 Gilboa, on which the Israelites were defeated by the Phil- 
 istines — a national calamity, which threatened the ruin of 
 the Hebrew State, but the interest of which to after gen- 
 erations has been more of a personal character, since on 
 that field perished Saul and Jonathan, whose unhappy fate 
 was mourned by David in one of the most beautiful strains 
 of elegiac poetry that ever touched the heart of the world. 
 Looking up to that elevated plateau, where the battle 
 raged and " the mighty " feU, the traveller cannot help 
 recalling the lamentation, which was the more surj)rising 
 because the life of him who made it had been sought by 
 him over whom he lamented. Yet as a loyal Hebrew, 
 David could not but mourn the defeat of his people and 
 the death of their king. Hence this outburst of patriotic 
 grief : " The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places ; 
 how are the mighty fallen ! Ye mountains of Gilboa, let 
 there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you [a 
 malediction which seems to be fulfilled in its rocky desola- 
 tion], for there the shield of the mighty was vilely cast 
 away." But the keenest sorrow of the minstrel is for the 
 death of his friend ; " I am distressed for thee, my brother 
 
SHUNEM AND NAIN. 115 
 
 Jonathan : very pleasant hast thou been unto me : thy 
 love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women." 
 Yet with what grace does he include both in this : " Saul 
 and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and 
 in their death the}^ were not divided." 
 
 These sad dirges are relieved by d more jubilant strain 
 as we ride over the hill of Jezreel, and on the fuiiher slope 
 come upon the fountain of Gideon, the heroic leader, who 
 with his little band of three hundred — ^just as many as the 
 Greeks had at Thermopylae — stole in the darkness of night 
 upon the enemy scattered far and wide upon the plains, 
 and by the suddenness and vigor of the attack, created a 
 panic in the camp of the Amalekites, which sent them 
 down the valley of Jezreel in so hurried flight, that they 
 stayed not till they had passed over the fords of the divid- 
 ing river and sought safety in their own country on the 
 other side of the Jordan. / 
 
 Leaving Jezreel with its heroic and its bloody memo- 
 ries, another hour's ride brings us to a spot with more 
 tender associations, where in place of the haughty Jezebel, 
 our interest gathers round a poor woman and her dead 
 child, for this is Shunem, the scene of the raising of the 
 Shunemite's son. On this hill once stood a village in 
 which Elisha, coming from Carmel, often found a home 
 in the house of a good woman, who had prepared him 
 a prophet's chamber and showed him hospitality, a kind- 
 ness which was to return to her when in the hour of 
 her despair she sought him among the rocks of his 
 mountain retreat. Hither he came at her call to give 
 comfort to the mourner by giving life to the dead. What 
 a pathos there is in these old Bible stories ! The place is 
 not far removed fi'om that of a second resmTection, for it 
 is but an houi-'s ride from Shunem to Nain, where our 
 Lord met the funeral procession passing from the gates. 
 
116 THE MODERN SHUNEMITES. 
 
 There is nothing in all the Gospels — not even the raising 
 of Lazarus, which is more tender than that which is told in 
 these few words : "Behold a dead man carried out — the 
 only son of his mother and she was a widow ! And when 
 the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said unto 
 her. Weep not. And he came and touched the bier : and 
 they that bare him stood still. And he said. Young man, 
 I say unto thee. Arise. And he that was dead sat up and 
 began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother." / 
 
 In the present village of Shunem there is nothing 
 sacred but a memory. Lilie the greater number of vil- 
 lages in Palestine, it is only a collection of mud hovels. 
 "We rode through it stared at by all the men, women and 
 children, gathered at the doors, and barked at by all the 
 dogs, which took good care to keep at a safe distance, as 
 they were mounted on the roofs, from which they yelped 
 defiance at the stranger. The people flocked after us to 
 the further side of the village, where v/e halted, and turn- 
 ing aside from the bridle path through a cactus hedge, to 
 a quiet spot, we hitched our horses to the trees, and 
 spreading ourselves on a slope under the shade of a clump 
 of fig trees, proceeded to discuss our luncheon, at which a 
 large proportion of the population " assisted." It was a 
 hungry looking crowd. Indeed it may be said that these 
 people are always hungry : they always have a famished 
 look. I have a guilty feeling as w^e enjoy our plentiful 
 repasts at seeing poor children sit round with hungry eyes, 
 as if they did not know what it was to have a full meal, 
 and who snap at anything that we cast away, licking clean 
 every tin box that has been packed with sardines, and 
 gnawing on every chicken bone. I hardly wonder that 
 they grow up a generation of thieves, when they see trav- 
 ellers pass by, well clothed and weU fed, while they are 
 both hungry and naked. The head man of the village has 
 
A RIDE TO EXDOR. 117 
 
 not a good reputation. Floyd drew his picture for us (it 
 was well the sheikh did not understand English) while we 
 now and then gave a side glance at him, noticing his ill- 
 favored countenance. We imagined him to be debating in 
 his mind whether he should rob us, or be content with 
 levying toll, or begging a large backsheesh. Happily he 
 chose the latter, perhaps thinking discretion the better 
 part of valor, but he and his people hterally " ate us up" 
 with their eyes, and as we mounted for our journey, stood 
 watching us till the last horse had disappeared in the 
 distance. / 
 
 As we descended once more upon the broad spaces of 
 Esdraelon, with a fair field before us, it seemed as if now 
 were a good time for that " gentle knight," whom we have 
 been so long expecting, to " come pricking o'er the plain"; 
 but any equestrian performances on our part were checked 
 by the state of the soil under our horses' feet : for the 
 "latter rains " had done their work so efiectually that the 
 Plain of Esdraelon was what Kobert Hall declared Gill's 
 Body of Divinity to be—" a continent of mud." With such 
 impediments to our rapid movement, we, who were of a 
 sober turn of mind, moved slowly. But Floyd and my 
 tent-mate, Weeden, who were both well mounted and fond 
 of a chase, seized the sHghtest occasion to trj^ the mettle 
 of their horses. Just now the di-agoman points to a hamlet 
 on a hillside, an hour's ride away, as Endor, where Saul 
 went to consult the Witch of Endor on the night before his 
 last battle ; and instantly they bound away, as if the Witch 
 of Endor had dashed at their horses' heels, which fly at her 
 touch like Tam O'Shanter's mare. / 
 
 But we who jog along more quietly, have plenty of 
 occupation for oui' thoughts in the historical recollections 
 which rise from the ground on every part of this cele- 
 brated plain. It has been the battle-field not only of 
 
118 THE BATTLE-FIELD OF NATIONS. 
 
 Palestine, but of all the East. The physical character of 
 the country has determined its military history — its wars, 
 battles, and sieges. When the Israelites crossed the Jor- 
 dan, they advanced against the hiUs, and their earlier 
 battles were fought with the mountain tribes which held 
 the passes of Benjamin. But the Plain of Esdraelon — like 
 that of Phihstia — was formed for great armies, and has 
 been marched over by kings and conquerors, coming from 
 Assyria and Babylon on the East, and Egypt on the South, 
 who have met in this gTeat plain as their field of battle. 
 Such an open space admitted of a style of warfare not pos- 
 sible among the mountains. When the Israelites, who had 
 been victorious over the hill-tribes, came to the "low 
 country," they shrank with terror from a new enemy with 
 new weapons of war, and murmured bitterly that the 
 Canaanites, who "dwelt in the land of the valley," had 
 chariots of iron. But even these were not invincible by 
 coui-age, for here Barak, inspired by the song of Deborah, 
 rushed from the hills and swept away the nine hundred 
 iron chariots of Sisera. As we ride along this plain, now 
 so still and quiet, we recall the terrible scenes it has wit- 
 nessed, and seem to hear the tread of the mighty hosts 
 that have swept over it. This way passed the army of 
 Sennacherib : 
 
 The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 
 His cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold, 
 And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. 
 When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. / 
 
 The Assyrian has been followed by the Eoman, the 
 Crusader, and the Turk. Even the sacred height of Mount 
 Tabor has given name to a battle which was fought, not 
 upon it, but in sight of it, and on this i)lain, by Napoleon, 
 when, marching from Egypt by way of Jaffa, (where he 
 left a name stiU held in horror by his inhuman massacre of 
 
MOUNT TABOR. 119 
 
 prisoners,) lie was attempting the conquest of S^-ria, from 
 which he could march on Constantinople, and thus " enter 
 Europe by the back door." His daring dream of conquest 
 was stopped but a few miles from this by the stubborn resist- 
 ance of a few English troops that held the fortress of Acre. 
 
 Here soldiers of all nations have plunged their swords 
 in each others' breasts, and falling face to face, have cui'sed 
 each other in all the languages of men. The soil is rich 
 and heavy with the blood of countless armies. With these 
 clouds of war hanging over it, it is not strange that in the 
 Apocalypse, the last gTeat conflict of the world, which is to 
 precede the reign of universal peace, is pictured as the 
 battle of Armageddon — that is, of Megiddo, the ancient 
 name of the Plain of Esdraelon. / 
 
 From these scenes of battle and blood, we turn to a 
 spot associated with memories of the Prince of Peace. On 
 the northeastern edge of the plain stands Mount Tabor, 
 long supposed to be the mount of the Transfiguration. 
 The tradition is now generally discredited, and the scene 
 of that wonderful apparition is placed on Mount Hermon 
 overlooking Banias, the ancient Ctesarea-Philippi. One 
 cannot but regret the effect of modern research, when it 
 disturbs a belief so long accepted, and so in accord with 
 the fitness of the place itself. Tabor differs wholly from 
 the other mountain of the plain, Gilboa, whose summit is 
 bare and bleak, while Tabor is w^ooded and green, as if 
 made to be pressed by angels' feet. Of majestic height, its 
 lofty dome rising to an altitude that lifts it quite above the 
 damps and mists of the plain into a purer atmosi)here, it 
 stands midway between earth and heaven, as if to invite 
 visitants from the other world to an interview, fi'om which, 
 unseen by mortal eyes, they might retui'n to their heavenly 
 home. / 
 
 But even Tabor fades in interest as it fades in sight, as 
 
120 SATURDAY EVENING IN NAZARETH. 
 
 the westering sun strikes on tlie Hills of Galilee, now ris- 
 ing before us. They do not rise abruptly, but by a gradual 
 ascenfc, so that we wind hither and thither as we climb 
 slowly upward, till at length we see in the distance a vil- 
 lage nestled among the hills, in a valley so narrow as to be 
 almost a glen. That httle mountain town is Nazareth! The 
 first glimpse hushed us, as did the first sight of Jerusalem, 
 for we were coming upon holy ground. Before us was one 
 of the places of pilgrimage that we most desired to see in 
 all Palestine ; as one of the few in a land under Moslem 
 rule which is sacred only to the memory of our Lord. 
 Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and died in Jerusalem, but 
 the greater part of his life was spent in Nazareth. As we 
 climbed up the steep approach, but one thought was present 
 to us — how often the Holy Child had rambled over these 
 hills. Full of such musings, we rode through the town to 
 the northwestern side, where we pitched our tents on a 
 rising ground, fi'om which we looked down into the valley. 
 It was Saturday evening ! If Burns wrote so touchingly 
 of the Cotter's Saturday night in Scotland, what might a 
 traveller, if he were only inspired with a little of the genius 
 of Burns, write of the evening shades, the gathering 
 twilight, which fell upon him on a Saturday evening in 
 Nazareth ? \ 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 NAZARETH RENAN's LIFE OF JESUS CAN THAT LIFE 
 
 BE EXPLAINED AS IN THE ORDER OF NATURE? 
 
 / This is the place ! Here tlie real life began ! Christ 
 indeed was born in Bethlehem, but Nazareth was the home 
 of his mother, and hither, after the flight into Egypt, he 
 was brought, still a child ; here he grew, not only to boy- 
 hood but to manhood ; and except his visits to Jerusalem 
 at the annual feasts, it may almost be said that he knew no 
 other world than that within the circuit of these hills. 
 
 That the greater part of the life of our Lord was passed 
 at Nazareth (he was called a Nazarene), gives it an interest 
 to the Christian traveller above all other places in Pales- 
 tine, save perhaps Bethlehem where he was born, and 
 Jemsalem where he was crucified. Of course, it is full of 
 locaHties made sacred, in tradition if not in reality, by 
 incidents of his life. Close to the spot where we camped 
 is an old Greek church, called the Church of the Annun- 
 ciation, on the site of which it is claimed that the angel 
 appeared to Mary and announced to her that she should 
 bear a son and call his name Jesus. The tradition is 
 rejected by the Latins, who are not disposed to leave to 
 the Greeks the honor, and the profit, of being the sole 
 possessors of a site so sacred ; and who have a church of 
 
122 NAZARETH. 
 
 their own, bearing the same name, and claiming to mark 
 the same hallowed sjoot. / 
 
 Of course every trayeller makes the round of these holy 
 places — visiting the house of Mary and the carpenter's 
 shop of Joseph, the site of the synagogue in which Jesus 
 preached, and the brow of the hill from which they would 
 cast him down. One who inquires into the genuineness 
 of these sites, finds that there is little to support them. 
 Thus this scene is transferred from its natural site, a cliff 
 within the town, " whereon the city was built," to a lofty 
 peak two miles away, which is called the Mount of Pre- 
 cipitation. But it is best not to inquire into these things 
 too narrowly, or to waste time in sifting out a few grains 
 of wheat from the chaff of tradition. Better to rest con- 
 tent with things about which there can be no dispute. At 
 least the natural features of Nazareth remain unchanged. 
 The hills which surround it are the same to which our 
 Lord looked up from his mother's door. The centre of 
 the ancient town was probably the Fountain which bears 
 the Virgin's name, for in these Eastern villages the place 
 to which all repair to draw water, is what the market 
 place is in the little towns of Italy or of Germany. To 
 this fountain still come the daughters of Nazareth, fiUing 
 their large pitchers, or ui*ns, fi'om the full-flowing stream, 
 and balancing them gracefully on their shoulders. No 
 one can doubt that it is the same which flowed here two 
 thousand years ago, and to which she whose name it now 
 bears came a thousand times, often leading by the hand 
 the wonderful child. / 
 
 With such associations and traditions, Nazareth has 
 naturally attracted pilgrims, till it has become, Hke Bethle- 
 hem, a Chiistian town. There is not a Jew in Nazareth ; 
 there are Moslems, but the Christians are in large majorit}^ 
 and the superior character of the population is seen in the 
 
THE MODERN VILLAGE. 123 
 
 better houses, which instead of being of mud, as in most 
 of the villages of Palestine, are of stone, and have at least 
 an appearance of solidity. The Christian community, as 
 usual in the East, is divided between the Greeks and the 
 Latins, though not in equal proportions, the Greeks being 
 much the more numerous, although the Latins to keep up 
 theu' rivalship, outdo the Greeks in architecture, theii' great 
 Franciscan Convent quite overshadowing the little town. 
 
 Apai-t fi'om its sacred memories, Nazareth has nothing 
 to attract the eye of the traveller. The hills of Galilee are 
 indeed less baiTen than those of Judea. But the town 
 itself, or rather the village, has no beauty. Indeed, no 
 Eastern village has any beauty as compared with a village 
 of Old England, or of New England. How can a village 
 be pretty in which all the houses are of one uniform shape 
 and color ? In an Eughsh village there is a variety of 
 construction, which saves it fi'om the appearance of mo- 
 notony. The country house stands on a green lawn, with 
 its central mass relieved from heaviness by its projecting 
 porch and shaded veranda and sloping roof, with here 
 and there angles and projections, casting shadows on its 
 sides. Here the houses have as much variety as so many 
 blocks of stone hewn out of a quariy. Each is a perfect 
 cube, " the length and the breadth and the height of it are 
 equal." The top of the house is square, Hke the founda- 
 tion ; the roof is as flat as the floor. True, these flat roofs 
 serve a purpose in the East, where the oppressive heat 
 restrains the outdoor life of the people, who keep indoors 
 as much as they can in the heat of the day, but at night 
 go up on the housetops to enjoy the cooler air, and look 
 up into the unclouded heaven. Often they sleep on the 
 roofs, which are thus useful if not picturesque. / 
 
 The color, too, is not at all grateful to the eye. Built 
 of the limestone of the country, the houses are of such a 
 
124 THE CHILDHOOD OF CHRIST. 
 
 glaring white that it is painful to look upon them in the 
 full blaze of the midday sun. This bareness is relieved 
 only at one season of the year, in the Springtime, when 
 the houses are partly hidden by the abundant vegetation ; 
 by the gardens of olive and fig trees, and the vines that 
 creep over the walls. 
 
 But the interest of Nazareth is not in its scenery so 
 much as in its history : not its houses or its hills, but the 
 fact that it was the cradle of our Keligion, as it was the 
 home of its Founder. As a town, it was in Galilee what 
 Bethlehem was in Judah, "the least of its thousands." 
 But it witnessed the beginning of a great history. In the 
 Himalayas there is a stream which flows forth from under 
 a glacier. It may be no more than others which issue 
 from that region of eternal snow : but it is the source of 
 the Ganges, a river which to hundreds of millions is like 
 the River flowing out of the throne of God. So from this 
 little mountain town of Galilee has gone forth a stream 
 which has flowed into all the world, and had the greatest 
 influence on the destinies of mankind. 
 
 Here our Saviour passed his childhood. And what was 
 it? Was he like other children, fond of sports? This 
 is quite possible. Perhaps he was not an only child ; 
 although many Biblical scholars are of opinion that those 
 who are spoken of as his brothers and sisters were his 
 cousins, but even in that case there is no reason to doubt 
 that he lived with them in the free and um^estrained inter- 
 course of childhood. There is something very sweet in 
 the thought that his early days were happy ; that he who 
 was to suffer so much in life and in death, had at least a 
 few years of brightness ; that this quiet valley was the 
 place 
 
 '• Where once his careless childhood strayed, 
 A stranger yet to pain." 
 
THE CHILDHOOD OF CHRIST. 125 
 
 But it is difficult to tliink of his cMdliood as "careless," 
 not only in ttie sense of thoughtless, but even in the lighter 
 sense of being free from care. His question in the tem- 
 ple, "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's 
 business?" indicated that he was already beginning to 
 feel the burden of resiDonsibility. He was now twelve 
 years of age. With such thoughts in his young heart, he 
 was yet to wait eighteen years before the time of activity 
 should come. In regard to this long period — more than 
 half of his whole life — the Gospels are silent. He 
 "increased in wisdom." But in what way? — by what 
 influences ? — under what teachers ? Of all this the Scrip- 
 tures say nothing. For him no doubt it was a period of 
 preparation. But what a proportion between the period 
 of preparation and that of action! The former was. six 
 times the latter. There is a lesson in this long seclusion, 
 this apparent inactivity, which is a rebuke to our impa- 
 tience to appear too early on the scene. We may well 
 restrain our eagerness when we remember the patient 
 waiting of oui' Master : 
 
 God doth not need 
 Either man's work, or his own gifts ; 
 
 They also serve who only stand and wait. 
 
 In the early centuries, and during the Middle Ages, the 
 monks, who wer6 never wanting in devices to feed popular 
 superstition, filled up this large gap in the history of our 
 Lord with childish legends. But so far as any authentic 
 history goes, this portion of the life of Christ is veiled in 
 absolute obscurity. / 
 
 But some modern writers who despise legends and tra- 
 ditions, take equal liberties in another way. Since they 
 know nothing of the early life of our Lord, they gather 
 from the histories of the time such general knowledge as 
 
126 RENAN^S LIFE OF JESUS. 
 
 they can of the state of Galilee, from which they form an 
 oi^inion of the influences around him, and so construct a 
 theory of his " education," of the way in which he spent 
 the thirty years before he entered on his ministry. The 
 sacred narrative tells us only that "he grew in stature " — 
 to physical manhood ; " and in wisdom," which may mean 
 in learning, in knowledge, or in moral elevation ; " and in 
 favor with God and man." But they talk learnedly about 
 his studies and his masters and teachers. 
 
 Eenan, the celebrated French author, has written a Life 
 of Jesus, which in some respects is a fascinating piece of 
 biography. It is full of poetry and eloquence, and is writ- 
 ten in a reverent spirit, although it rejects entirely what is 
 supernatural in the birth and in the life of our Lord. He 
 believes him to have been born, not in Betlilehem, but in 
 Nazareth, and to have been the son of Joseph as well as of 
 Mary. He does not admit that he was of the house of 
 David, and even questions his Hebrew descent, since at the 
 time that he was born, Galilee " had a very mixed popula- 
 tion — not only Jews, but Phoenicians, S}^ians, Arabs, and 
 even Greeks." "It is impossible," says Eenan, as if this 
 were to the honor of Jesus, " to raise any question of race, 
 and to search what blood flowed in the veins of him who 
 was to efface all distinctions of blood in a common human- 
 ity." And yet this Being, sprung from he knows not what 
 race, he concedes to have been the greatest Personage of 
 whom history makes mention, and the estabhshment of 
 his religion the grandest event in the history of the world./ 
 
 On this basis of pure naturalism he attempts to con- 
 struct a Life of Jesus, but the attempt tries all his resources 
 of historical knowledge and subtle ingenuity. How came 
 this wonderful character to appear in such a corner of the 
 world? The ancient astrologers had a theory that great 
 human intellects were the product of celestial influences ; 
 
WAS niS LIFE IN THE OliDER OF NATURE ? 127 
 
 that there was some conjunction of the stars that shone on 
 their birth. But what was the conjunction of stars that 
 wrought in producing this " grand soul " ? Astronomers 
 could easily tell us, reckoning backward to the year of our 
 Saviour's birth. Was it " the sweet influences of Pleiades " 
 that fell on the Galilean HiUs ? Was there one hour — one 
 moment — in all the tide of time when the celestial influ- 
 ences combined to produce an intellect and a character of 
 which there had been no example in history before ? / 
 
 In place of the old astrologers has come in these days a 
 generation of wise men, who account for ever3i:hing by 
 " nature." The heavens do not interfere with the course 
 of human affairs ; the earth alone is sufficient for her chil- 
 dren. Everything extraordinary in the realm of intelli- 
 gence is explained by "genius," a word which appears 
 constantly in the pages of Renan, and which, if vague, is 
 convenient, as it may be used to account for whatever one 
 cannot understand. Such vo-iters make Hght of " inspira- 
 tion," but talk of " genius " as if it were something super- 
 human, if not divine — an effluence of intellectual force 
 from the heart of nature, which, by influences celestial or 
 terrestrial, is nourished to the height of intellectual great- 
 ness. Tlie genius of Shakespeare was an extraordinary 
 gift of nature, if not a dii'ect inspiration of the Almighty. 
 Those who trace its beginning and its growth, recognize 
 the subtle, the invisible influences of nature, as in the well 
 known sonnet to the Avon : 
 
 " In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid." 
 
 But in what "green lap " of nature was cradled the spirit 
 of the young Hebrew ? He was not the darling of natui'e 
 or of fortune. He was not bom on the banks of the Avon, 
 but among the nigged Gahlean hills. 
 
 No doubt, there is a wide difference in the constitutions 
 
128 THE "EDUCATION"^' OF JESUS. 
 
 of men. There are natures so delicately sensitive to spirit- 
 ual influences, that they catch inspiration from the common 
 air Avhich others breathe, but which in them works to no 
 such fine issues. " What time the South wind blows, the 
 violets oj)en their petals to the sun," and so there are cer- 
 tain influences which come from the very elements, which 
 touch the human soul and quicken it to life. Such influ- 
 ences, the modern school of naturalists will have it, touched 
 and kindled the imagination of the child Jesus, dimly con- 
 scious of his transcendent powers, yet having nothing to 
 converse with but nature. ("He always kept close to 
 nature," says Kenan.) It is easy to picture the "mar- 
 vellous boy" climbing the heights around Nazareth, and 
 looking with his great eyes upon what seemed to him the 
 boundless plain below, beyond which lay Jerusalem, the 
 capital of his country and his faith ; and off to the Sea 
 which rolled upon the horizon, the emblem of immensity, 
 . of infinity, and eternity. And so in silence and commun- 
 ion with nature, his soul grew to its immeasurable great- 
 ness. 
 
 These are pleasing fancies with which historians and 
 philosophers entertain themselves. What a pity that they 
 are mere creations of the brain, without a particle of 
 evidence to sei've as a foundation for the aiiy superstruc- 
 ture. 
 
 But had not Christ masters and teachers? Eenan 
 devotes a whole chapter to the " education of Jesus," in 
 which out of the slenderest materials he weaves a theory 
 of the influences that may have reached him. He makes 
 much of the intellectual activity of the time. Jesus was 
 born in the Augustan age. May not some influence from 
 Eome, or the philosophy of Greece, a country which was 
 much nearer, have reached the Eastern shore of the Medi- 
 terranean ? Possibly, but it would have affected only the 
 
DID CHRIST SIT AT THE FEET OF RABBIS ? 129 
 
 learned and the great. It is hardly possible that it could 
 have reached a Httle mountain town of Galilee. In aU the 
 teachings of Chiist there apjoears not once the slightest 
 evidence that he had so much as heard of Rome, except as 
 the seat of the Empire of Csesar. And indeed if any influ- 
 ence could have come from the "West, so full of skepticism 
 and materiahsm was the philosophy of that age, that it 
 would have been positively unfavorable to moral, if not to 
 intellectual, growth. 
 
 But what he did not learn from the wise men of Greece, 
 may he not have learned from teachers of his own race, 
 "devout men who were waiting for the consolation of 
 Israel " ? No doubt the child of Mary was taught in the 
 faith of her fathers. In that humble home there was a 
 strong Hebrew spirit, which was nourished by the words 
 of seers and prophets. May he not have sat at the feet of 
 learned rabbis, as Paul sat at the feet of Gamaliel ? We 
 are told of certain Jewish sects which existed in the timer 
 of Christ, particularly the Essenes, who taught many things 
 which are in striking accordance with the precepts of our 
 Lord. "It may be supposed," says Renan, "that the 
 principles of Hillel were not unknown to him. Hillel, 
 fifty years before, had pronounced aphorisms which had 
 much analogy with his. By his poverty meekly borne, by 
 the mildness of his character, by the opposition he made 
 to the hypocrites and the priests, HiUel was the true 
 master of Christ, if it be permitted to speak of a master 
 of one who had so high an originaUty." By this kind 
 of loose reasoning, " supposing " that of which he has no 
 evidence, Renan arrives virtually at the conclusion that 
 there was a Christianity before Christ ; that he merely put 
 it into a more complete form, crystallizing elements which 
 had long been in solution in the Hebrew mind. 
 
 This is a very ingenious theory; nothing is wanting 
 
130 WAS THERE A CHRISTIANITY BEFORE CHRIST? 
 
 but that it shotild be true. But unfortunately there is not 
 the slightest evidence that Christ belonged to the sect of 
 the Essenes, or was taught in the school of Hillel. Had it 
 been so, would not a nature so simple, so transparent and 
 sincere, as Christ's is confessed to have been, have made 
 some acknowledgment to his masters and teachers ? instead 
 of which he always spoke in his own name, even setting 
 aside the authority of Moses and the prophets. The 
 theory of " education " faUs as utterly as that of " genius." 
 The greatest teachers could not give what they did not 
 possess. The distance is so immense between anj^thing 
 discovered in the teachings of ancient rabbis and the 
 teaching of Christ, that it is impossible to suppose one 
 derived from the other. And so the elaborate theory of 
 Benan, on which he has constructed the life of Christ, 
 breaks down at every point. Indeed if the appeal be to 
 history, it may be shown that the age of Christ was 
 ♦unfriendly to the new faith. The Jews looked for a tem- 
 poral deliverer, but a spiritual teacher they were never 
 less fitted to receive. As a people, they were narrow and 
 bigoted to an extreme — counting that they only were the 
 people of God, and that all others were accursed. Those 
 who claimed to be the most righteous, were the most 
 oppressive and cruel, putting heavy burdens on others' 
 shoulders, but not touching them with one of their fingers. 
 From such a soil sprang the consummate flower of virtue. 
 Out of ignorance came forth wisdom ; out of pride came 
 forth meekness ; out of selfishness and cruelty came forth 
 a love which embraced aU mankind. Was this a " natural " 
 result of a "natural" cause ? BeHeve it who wiU. All the 
 subtle explanations in the world cannot account for the 
 Christ on the principles of naturalism. The appearance of 
 such a Being was not in the course of nature ; it was super- 
 natural. The more I travel in these Eastern countri( 
 
A GREATER MIRACLE THAN HIS DIVINITY. 131 
 
 the more I see of the Jews — the more do I feel that to sup- 
 pose Jesus Christ to be a natural product of such a race 
 and such an age, is to suppose a greater miracle than to 
 accept his divinity. 
 
 Such doubts do not trouble me here. In the region 
 where our Lord passed the greater part of his life, the 
 whole story of the Gospels is so real, it fits so into the very 
 landscape, it has so perfectly the couleur locale of the hills 
 and valleys, that one passing through them cannot but 
 recognize the literal truth of all in the New Testament 
 which pertains to things external. Accepting this, one 
 soon accepts the supernatural also ; and instead of puz- 
 zling his brain with explanations which do not explain, 
 and theories which are mere guesses at truth, he accepts 
 the simple affirmation of the Apostles' Creed, that Jesus 
 Christ " was conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the 
 Virgin Mary."/ 
 
 Such reflections occur naturally to one spending a Sab- 
 bath in Nazareth. But the day is passing, and before it 
 closes let us go out to take one more view of a region so 
 familiar to the eye and the footsteps of our Lord. In the 
 rear of our camp, forming a background for the little town, 
 is a hill which rises five hundred feet above the valley 
 below. Towards the close of the day we climbed to the 
 top, as on a memorable Sabbath in the desert, in the Oasis 
 of Feiran, we had climbed the hill where Moses knelt 
 w^hile Hur and Aaron held up his hands tiH the ^oing 
 down of the sun. On the highest point is an ancient Wely 
 or Moslem tomb, and clambering over the stones, w^e 
 perched ourselves on its arched roof, where we sat down 
 to take a survey of the country. There ai'e few points in 
 Palestine which command a more extensive view. Below 
 us lay the village of Nazareth, shut in by its guardian hills. 
 Beyond and around it stretched the great plain of Esdi'iie- 
 
132 ENGLISH SCHOOL FOR ORPHAN GIRLS. 
 
 Ion. On tlie West the sun was sinking beliind the ridge 
 of Carmel into the Western Sea, while northward Hermon 
 reared his lofty head against the sky, his crown of snow 
 flushed with warmer tints as it caught the rays of the 
 setting sun. It was a scene of enchantment. Could we 
 doubt that the Master had a thousand times climbed to 
 this very spot, to look round the same horizon ? . 
 
 On the side of this hill, half way down the descent, 
 ^stands one of the noblest institutions in Palestine, for the 
 instruction of orphan girls. Estabhshed by the English 
 Female Education Society, it is one of those monuments 
 which one finds everywhere in the East, and for that 
 matter everywhere in the world, of the Christian liberality 
 of England. It is under the charge of an Enghsh lady, 
 Miss Dickson, who received us kindly, and took us through 
 the large building, in which we could not but admire the 
 completeness of the recitation rooms and dormitories, and 
 all the appointments, which were such as might be looked 
 for in a Model School of England or America. At last she 
 led us to an upper hall, where, seated on benches rising 
 one behind the other, were perhaps a hundred children, 
 whom she asked to sing us a hymn. They had learned a 
 little English, and at once began the familiar lines : 
 
 ' ' What means this eager, anxious throng, 
 "Which moves with busy haste along — 
 These wondrous gatherings day by day ? 
 What means this strange commotion, pray ? 
 In accents hushed the throng reply, 
 Jesus of Nazareth yasseth hy^ 
 
 These words would have been pleasant to hear anywhere ; 
 but they were pecuHarly touching in Nazareth, and from 
 the lips of children. The soft melody seemed to be stiU 
 in the air as we descended the long flight of steps, and 
 made our way down the hillside to our camp. It was in 
 
JESUS OF NAZARETH PASSETH BY. 133 
 
 sweet and tender harmony with the place and the hour. 
 Though the day was nearly gone, the golden light still 
 lingered on the heights above us, where in the last glow of 
 sunset seemed to float the form of Him who once walked 
 among these hills. Was not the Master "passing by"? 
 Does he not love to revisit the scenes dear to him on earth ? 
 May he not often return to the spot where he spent the 
 gTeater part of his mortal life? Perhaps he still loves 
 these hours when the last light of day is fading round his 
 early home. So at least it seemed to us, whether it was 
 faith or imagination : to the quickened sense he was very 
 near ; it was as if we could see him dimly in the twilight, 
 nay, as if he who came to his disciples when the door was 
 shut, and said " Peace be unto you," stood within the door 
 of our tent, and gave his peace to those who, though 
 strangers and pilgrims, were yet his disciples. Jesus of 
 Nazareth was passing by. 
 
CHAPTEE Xn. 
 
 TO MOUNT CAKMEL- INCURSIONS OF THE BEDAWEEN- 
 PROJECTED RAILWAY OR CANAL IN PALESTINE. 
 
 / In tlie preface to Kenilwortli, Walter Scott tells how lie 
 came to wiite it. The idea was suggested by an old Eng- 
 lish baUad, which he heard when a young man. " The 
 first stanza especially," he says, " had a peculiar species of 
 enchantment for the youthful ear of the author, the force 
 of which is not even now entirely spent.*' This we can 
 weU believe as we read these musical lines : 
 
 " The dews of Summer night did fall ; 
 The moon, sweet regent of the sky, 
 Silvered the walls of Cmnnor Hall, 
 And many an oak that grew thereby." 
 
 Repeating these lines a thousand times, he finally 
 wrote this romance of the time of Elizabeth, as if to 
 reproduce the effect of the moonlight falling on castle 
 walls, and silvering the ancient oaks. If a few hues may 
 thus set in motion the pen of a great writer, much more 
 are travellers, who are like ships in that they are always 
 afloat, turned about with " the very small helm " of a slight 
 association. A bit of eloquent description, whether in 
 poetry or prose, haunts the mind and makes one travel far 
 to place himself in the situation, and realize the effect, so 
 powerfully described. It was something like this which 
 
135 
 
 made at least one member of our party -wisli to turn aside 
 from tlie dii'ect journey through Palestine, to visit Mount 
 Carmel. When Dean Stanley was in America, he preached 
 a sermon in Stockbridge, Mass., on a text -which certainly 
 promised little. It was " There is nothing! " — the exclama- 
 tion of the servant whom Elijah sent up to the top of Mount 
 Carmel to look towards the Mediterranean, to see if there 
 were any sign of rain, and who returned again and again 
 with the same answer : " There is nothing ! " At first one 
 would think there could be nothing to a sermon from such 
 a text. But it soon appeared that out of " nothing " the 
 genius of such a preacher could draw most important les- 
 sons. I can see now the slight figure, with that intellectual 
 countenance, and hear his voice as he began : / 
 
 In the story of Elijah on Mount Carmel, there is a striking 
 passage — made to some of us yet more striking by the music 
 of Mendelssohn, in which it has been enshrined — where the 
 young lad attendant on the Prophet ascends the highest point 
 of the long ridge of the mountain, and whilst his master remains 
 on the lower level, looks out over the wide expanse of the Medi- 
 terranean Sea. It is a scene of which every step can still be 
 identified. The boy gazes in the hope that the Prophet's earnest 
 prayer may bring down the long-desired rain. The sun had sunk 
 into the western sea. But after the sunset there followed the 
 long white glow so common in the evenings of Eastern coimtries. 
 Seven times the youthful watcher went up and looked, and seven 
 times he reported "There is nothing." The sky was still clear; 
 the sea was still calm. At last out of the far horizon there arose 
 a little cloud, the first that for days and months had passed across 
 the heavens. It was no larger than an outstretched hand, but it 
 grew in the deepening shades of evening, and quickly the whole 
 sky was overcast, and the forests of Carmel shook in the welcome 
 sound of those mighty winds which in Eastern regions precede a 
 coming tempest. The cry of the boy from his mountain watch 
 had hardly been uttered when the storm broke upon the plain, the 
 rain descended, the Kishon swelled and burst over its banks, and 
 the nation was delivered from its sufferings. 
 
136 THE PLAIN THINLY INHABITED, 
 
 This eloquent passage remained in my memory till I 
 found myself in Palestine, and raised a strong desire, as 
 we approached Carmel, to visit the mountain and recall 
 " the scene of which every step can stiU be identified," and 
 look out, like the servant of Elijah, " over the wide expanse 
 of the Mediterranean Sea," 
 
 The day smiled on our purpose, for we had not had in 
 all our joiu-neys a more exquisite morning. With a long 
 ride before us, we were in the saddle at six o'clock. To 
 climb up out of the basin of Nazareth, we wound round 
 the steep hill in the rear of our camp which we had 
 ascended the evening before. The sun had just risen over 
 the mountains of Gilead, on the other side of the Jordan, 
 and touched the forehead of Tabor, and as we rose higher, 
 it shone down into the valley below. Descending the other 
 slojDC of the hill to the plain of Esdraelon, we soon had a 
 view of Haifa and Acre in the distance, on the shore of the 
 Mediterranean. It is perhaps not more than a dozen miles 
 directly across to the foot of Carmel, though by the cir- 
 cuitous route we had to take, it must have been much 
 farther. The road was wet with the recent rains, but the 
 horses, fresh from a day of rest, pricked up their steps, and 
 we measured off the distance rapidly. The plain is not 
 altogether level, but rising and falling, with here and there 
 a larger swell of ground, on which is the usual Eastern 
 village — a cluster of mud-huts, no better than Indian wig- 
 wams, with the smoke pouring out of the door ; yet 
 through the smoke, as if they were imps of darkness, peer 
 innumerable heads : for these miserable cabins swarm with 
 men and women, children and dogs. Once only in the 
 whole distance did we see a building of any size, and that 
 was erected as a khan for the Circassians, who made it little 
 better than a robbers' castle. Just now it is empty, and 
 looks like an old bai-rack which has been deserted and \ 
 
INCURSIONS OF THE BEDAWEEN. 137 
 
 gone to ruin. The traveller is surprised at the desolate 
 appearance of the country, so far as regards human habita- 
 tion. The soil is rich, and if the plain were thoroughly 
 cultivated, as it would be in England, or as are the Low- 
 lands of Scotland, or the reclaimed marshes of Holland, it 
 would support the whole population of Palestine. But it 
 sadly lacks the presence of man and the benefit of human 
 industry. The villages are the poorest and the peoj^le the 
 most wretched in the country. The reason is not far to 
 seek : it is the insecurity of life and property. If one 
 looks on the map, he will see that the Plain of Esdraelon 
 does not He four-square in the heart of the country, but 
 runs across it from northwest to southeast, touching the 
 Mediterranean on one side and the valley of the Jordan on 
 the other. The smooth descent to the latter opens a wide 
 gate for the entrance of the Bedaween, who in former 
 years came in by thousands with their flocks and herds. 
 They considered the jAain. of Esdraelon as their pastui'e 
 ground, and that no others had any rights which they were 
 bound to respect. Where they came, it was hardly possible 
 for others to live. They tuimed the cultivated field into a 
 desert, since their hand was against every man, and every 
 man's hand was against them. Until within a few years it 
 was said that only a sixth part of the soil was cultivated at 
 all. Since 1870 it is claimed that the protection has been 
 somewhat better. Yet I do not see the signs of improve- 
 ment. The plain indeed overflows with rank vegetation, 
 but there is httle culture. If the inrush of Bedaween has 
 been less than in former years, at least the apprehension 
 remains, and the terror has the effect to keep the land des- 
 olate. Out of the villages the plain is uninhabited. Here 
 and there men or boys may be seen watching a few sheep 
 or cattle, but otherwise it is as silent and solitary as the 
 desert. It is not safe for any one to travel alone, even 
 
138 THE BROOK KISHON. 
 
 armed : indeed arms sometimes but increase the danger. 
 As we came near a Tillage, Floyd pointed out a spot where 
 only four years since a young Englishman, the son of a 
 nobleman, who had lived in the country long enough to 
 feel a certain degree of security, was attacked, and endeav- 
 oring to defend himself with his revolver, was overpowered 
 and killed, and his body cut into three pieces ! Of course 
 the heart of England was stirred at such a crime, and a 
 man-of-war, with the English Consul from Jerusalem on 
 board, was ordered to Acre to demand satisfaction. Sixty 
 men of the village were arrested, and an inquest begun 
 which lasted twenty-six days, as the result of which three 
 who were found to have been leaders in the crime, were 
 sentenced to be hanged. Sentenced, but not executed! 
 They were confined in the fortress of Acre, where they still 
 are, unless they have been allowed to escape ! So much 
 for Turkish justice. /' 
 
 Three hours of riding brought us to the Kishon, which, 
 like many things in the East, is an uncertain quantity, 
 being now a brook and now a river. Sometimes it is 
 almost dry ; but fearing lest it might be swollen by the 
 recent rains, Eloyd made anxious inquiry, as we ap- 
 proached it, if it was fordable. On the banks we found 
 boys watching cattle, which were wading and wallowing 
 under the willows ; and a man was sent in to see if the 
 water was too deep. Following him, we rode in and 
 waded across. It is a narrow stream, and we can hardly 
 understand how it could have swept away the host of 
 Sisera. But in these Eastern countries the elements, like 
 the people, are treacherous ; and when the rains descend, 
 the brook becomes a flood, rushing through the plain like 
 a mountain torrent, and might easily sweep away an army. / 
 
 And now we begin to ascend, and from gentle slopes 
 soon come to the wooded sides of Carmel, which is cele- 
 
ELIJAH^S PLACE OF SACRIFICE. 139 
 
 bratecl for its flora.* Tlie springs whicli iiin among the 
 hills keep it always fi'esh and green. The contrast with 
 the barren hills over which we had passed in other paiis 
 of Palestine and on the desert, gave it a pecuhar beauty. 
 After being so long among the bald peaks of the Peninsula 
 of Sinai, it was a reUef to the eye to come into something 
 like an American forest. The sides of the mountain are 
 covered with trees. Isaiah, who was prophet and poet in 
 one, couples " the excellency of Carmel and Sharon " with 
 " the glory of Lebanon." Its forest growths attracted the 
 priests of Baal, who celebrated their idolatrous worship in 
 its sacred groves. An hour's ride up the ascent brought 
 us to a place where is a fountain welling up among the 
 rocks, at the foot of a ledge perhaps twenty feet high. 
 Mounting this ledge, we come upon a broad natural 
 teiTace, which is supposed to be the scene of the memora- . 
 ble contest of Elijah with the prophets of Baal, as the space 
 is ami^le for thousands to gather round the altars, while 
 the water to pour into the trenches could be brought fi'om 
 the fountain below. With these accessories before the eye, 
 it is easy to pictui'e the scene. The Scriptures hardly con- 
 tain anything more dramatic than the description of a 
 contest which ended in a fearful tragedy. The people 
 were probably gathered by tens of thousands, for EHjah 
 had bidden Ahab " send and gather all Israel unto Mount 
 Carmel." The multitude may have covered the whole 
 
 * My friend and companion in travel, Dr. Adams, who is always 
 observant of trees and flowers, notes in his journal a few of those 
 which here caught his eye : "Going up Carmel saw wild hollyhocks 
 large and fine ; three varieties of clover (large red, large white, 
 small red blossoms) ; white and red rock-roses : oaks and haw- 
 thorns ; and mock-orange trees (or syringas) from ten to twenty 
 feet high, in full blossom perfuming the air." On the very top of 
 the mountain I observed the same profusion of wild flowers and 
 blossoming trees, whose fragrance was like a breath of home./ 
 
140 CONTEST WITH THE PRIESTS OF BAAL. 
 
 mountain side, and stretclied far out into the plain below. 
 But the scene of the conflict was near the crest of the 
 mountain, on the terrace, where were assembled the leaders 
 of the people, while in the foreground apj)eared hundreds 
 of the imests of Baal. Their altars are built and their 
 prayers begin, but as no effect is produced, they soon work 
 themselves into a state of excitement — an excitement which 
 passes into fury and frenzy. They shout like howling 
 dervishes, making the forest echo with their cries, " O 
 Baal, hear us ! " This they repeat from morning to noon, 
 and after noon, growing more wild and frantic, leaping 
 upon the altar and cutting themselves with knives till the 
 blood gushes out upon them, but at last sink down from 
 utter exhaustion, obHged to confess their failure, and only 
 hoping that the prophet of the Lord may fail also. 
 
 Then Elijah stood forth, one man, alone, against the 
 hundreds of the prophets of Baal, and said unto aU the 
 people, Come near unto me ! With a solemn deliberation 
 he repairs the altar of the Lord that was broken down, 
 and digs a trench and bids them pour barrels of water on 
 the sacrifice, and again bids them do it the second time, 
 and do it the third time. 
 
 " Then at the time of the evening sacrifice Elijah came 
 near and said, Lord God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of 
 Israel, Let it be known this day that thou art God in 
 Israel, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done all 
 these things according to thy word." "Then the fii'e of 
 the Lord fell and consumed the burnt sacrifice and the 
 wood and the stones and the dust, and licked up the water 
 that was in the trench."/ 
 
 The victory was complete, and the retribution came. 
 In one of those revulsions of feeling that foUow a discov- 
 ered deception, the people responded quickly to the com- 
 mand to "seize the prophets of Baal, not to let one of 
 
ON THE TOP OF CARMEL. 141 
 
 tiiem escape," and they were taken down the mountain, 
 and slain on the banks of the Kishon, which rolled red 
 with their blood to the sea. 
 
 But we are not yet quite at the summit of Carmel ; 
 there is still a cliff some three hundred feet higher. As 
 we chmb to the top there bursts upon us a view of moun- 
 tain and sea close to each other, not unlike that from the 
 Corniche road in the South of France, or from Amalfi in 
 Italy. The ridge of Carmel is about eighteen miles long, 
 on either side of which the deep green of the forest slopes 
 down to the plain — on one side to the Plain of Esdraelon, 
 and on the other to the Plain of Sharon, which coming up 
 fi'om the South along the coast, here grows narrow^er and 
 narrower till it is lost between the mountain and the sea. 
 Carmel ends abruptly with a shai^^ descent. This head- 
 land jutting out into the deep is the most striking object 
 seen by the voyager along the Syrian coast. On the 
 extreme point, nearly five hundred feet above the sea, 
 stands the famous monastery which has given name to the 
 order of Barefooted Carmelites so well known through- 
 out Europe — an order to which Father Hyacinthe once 
 belonged. From this commanding elevation one may look 
 North, South, and West, and see in each direction the 
 illimitable sea. Lying almost at our feet, like the Bay of 
 Salerno as seen from the heights of the Appenines, is the 
 Bay of Acre, over which still keeps guard that ancient 
 fortress, before which Napoleon met with a defeat which 
 stopped his conquest of Syria and his march upon Con- 
 stantino j)le.*/ 
 
 *WhilG I was looking seaward, Dr. Adams had been look- 
 ing back over the plain, and thus pictures the wonderful scene 
 in that direction: "We go to the edge of a forty-foot cliff of 
 pumice rock. Dr. Field reads the Scripture [1 Kings xviii.]. 
 Looking off over the plain, we see all the sites of the story, 
 
142 LOOKING FOR THE CLOUD FROM THE SEA. 
 
 As the i^oint we had now reached is the highest of the 
 mountain, tradition has naturally fixed upon it as the scene 
 of Elijah's victory, and there is a small low building of 
 stone covering a bare rock, which is claimed to have been 
 the very rock of sacrifice. But a careful comparison of 
 sites inclines to the broader space below. It is, however, 
 not improbable that this higher peak was the watch-tower 
 from which Elijah's serv^ant looked for the cloud from the 
 sea. After the prophets of Baal had been slain at the 
 brook Kishon, it is said that "Ehjah went up to the top of 
 Carmel " ; but it may be only in a general sense, for he 
 sent his servant up to a point still higher, so that it seems 
 probable that he renewed his prayer on the very spot 
 where he had ah-eady been answered by fire from heaven. 
 His prayer was perhaps a silent one, for we are told only 
 that "he cast himself u]oon the earth and put his face 
 between his knees." But voiceless though it was, he did 
 not doubt that the answer would come, for he bade his 
 servant look for its coming : " Go up now, look toward the 
 sea ! " Nor did his faith fail, though again and again the 
 servant reported "There is nothing," for at the seventh 
 time, he answered "Behold, there ariseth a little cloud 
 out of the sea, like a man's hand." And soon " the heaven 
 was black with clouds and wind, and there was a gxeat 
 rain." / 
 
 Such is the story of the prophet that hangs about the 
 ridge of Carmel, and gives it an interest after the lapse of 
 neai'ly thirty centuries. "What strange and terrible power 
 had these men, who dwelt in mountains and caves, and 
 came out of their solitude to stand before kings and send 
 
 with Jezreel in the distance; grass greens in various shades, 
 earth browns and blacks, the winding thread of the Kishon ; on 
 the Galilean hills tree greens and limestone grays ; far away pur- 
 ples and blues, and the snows of Hermon." / 
 
MEETING THE BEDAWEEN. 143 
 
 terror into palaces! The prophets are dead, but their 
 memory Hngers in the haunted an' ; something of their 
 fierce spirit seems to have entered into the very eagles that 
 still soar and scream above the heights of Carmel, sending 
 out then' wild message to mountain and sea. , 
 
 As we rode down Mount Carmel, the afternoon sun 
 behind us shone across Esdraelon, bringing out every 
 mound and knoll of that most beautiful plain. Some of 
 the broader elevations are studded with noble trees, mak- 
 ing a landscape not unlike the parks of England ; and one 
 looks to see castle walls behind the ancient oaks, or some- 
 thing having the charm of an English village under their 
 shade. Such there might be, if there were only the order 
 and security of England. The plain itseK is nature's para- 
 dise. It is a sea of verdure ; for, cultivated or not, whether 
 in gardens or overgTown with weeds, still the rank luxuriant 
 gTowth gives it the appearance of one of our Western 
 prairies, and suggests what it might become with proper 
 cultivation. But there cannot be good cultivation without 
 good government. Just now I was riding by the side of 
 Floyd, when we met a couple of " gentlemen," splendidly 
 mounted and armed. We gave them our salaam, which 
 they returned. But Floyd smiled as he said "If you were 
 alone, instead of being with a party, these knights of the 
 road would pay you closer attention. They would give 
 you the honor of a personal interview." This is the curse 
 of the country ; no man is safe either on the road or in his 
 dwelling : his home is not his castle. The poor peasant 
 has no motive to cultivate a garden or plant a tree, for the 
 moment that he makes his little place attractive, it is sure 
 to become the prey of the spoiler. / 
 
 As if it were not enough that this beautiful Plain should 
 be overrun by hordes of Bedaween, the Sultan has emptied 
 upon it a body of Cii'cassians. At the close of the late wai* 
 
144 THE CIRCASSIANS AND BEDAWEEN. 
 
 there were hordes of iiTegular troops — Koords, Baslii- 
 bazouks and Circassians — a horrible set of cnt-throats, use- 
 less in war, as they were subject to no discipline, and only 
 intent on piUage — whom it was necessary to get rid of, and 
 whom the government wished to send as far away as possi- 
 ble. Some of them were transported into the interior of 
 Asia Minor. "Wherever they came they were a pest to 
 every village, as they were a set of thieves and robbers. A 
 large detachment of these precious scoundrels were landed 
 on the Coast of Syria and encamped on the Plain of Esdrae- 
 lon, to be the terror of their neighbors. 
 
 Thus the land is doomed to desolation, for nothirfg can 
 stand against such a state of insecurity. How long would 
 the farmers of Illinois plant their magnificent prairies if 
 there were roving bands of Indians, or of " bushwhackers," 
 too powerful to be resisted, that would come in as soon as 
 the harvest was ripe to take whatever was best — to turn 
 their herds of horses and cattle into the rich pastures, stay- 
 ing for weeks or months and leaving only when the land 
 was swept as a prairie is swept by fire ? 
 
 "Whenever we meet, as we often do, these roving Be4a- 
 ween, it renews our conversation in regard to the state of a 
 country which is thus given over to brigandage. 
 
 Floyd has lived many years in Palestine, and travelling 
 in every part of it, he has become weU acquainted with the 
 different tribes that inhabit the country across the Jordan, 
 and with their sheikhs, who converse with him with the 
 greatest freedom. Sitting before their camp-fires, they are 
 in a confidential mood, and as they like to unbosom them- 
 selves to an admiring listener, they do not hesitate to boast 
 of their exploits. It is a feather in the cap of a sheikh to 
 be a bold marauder. He who can plan a raid upon his 
 neighbors, and carry it out with secrecy and despatch, is a 
 great man in his tribe. And if in executing some feat of 
 
KILLING A MAN FOR A HORSE. 145 
 
 strategy, he and his " merry men " come to battle and to 
 blood, this gives increased zest to their wild and lawless 
 life. The sheith of a powerful tribe beyond the Jordan 
 has a daughter who is famed for her beauty ; but the 
 sheikh gives it to be understood that no young Arabian 
 " blood " must look for her hand who has not killed a hun- 
 dred men ! What a noble object to fire a young Arab's 
 ambition ! This, of course, must be in pitched battle : for 
 the Ai'abs do not like assassination. Killing, to be a matter 
 of pride, must be done on a large scale. , 
 
 In pui'suing theii' knightly calling, they are sometimes 
 obliged to kill those whom they rob. They would rather 
 not do this : for they do not like to shed blood, having a 
 wholesome fear of the blood feud. But they have no moral 
 scruple about it. Sometimes when stern necessity compels 
 a murder, one may feel a slight twinge of remorse. " One 
 day," said a sheikh to Floyd, "as I was riding across a 
 plain, I saw coming towards me a man mounted on the 
 most beautiful mare I had ever seen [the Arabian mares 
 are especially prized] ; her form was perfect ; there was 
 such grace and spirit in every step, that I turned to look 
 at her with admiration, when an impulse seized me which I 
 could not resist. It was the work of an instant. I dashed 
 at the rider, and ran him through with my spear. He 
 rolled off, but gave me one look that I could never forget. 
 I should have thought nothing of the act but for that last 
 look : but that has haunted me ever since. It follows me 
 to my tent, and when I awake in the night, I see those eyes 
 staring at me with a look of reproach. But," he always 
 adds, " who could help it for such a mare ! " / 
 
 This wild element is the most difficult one to manage 
 in the whole Empire. Some indeed think it impossible to 
 control it. The Bedaween have roamed the desert for 
 thousands of years unsubdued, and may still roam for 
 
146 HOW IBRAHIM PASHA RULED THE COUNTRY. 
 
 thousands of years to come. They snap theu' fingers at a 
 power as far off as Constantinoj^le, and speak with the 
 utmost contempt of the Turks. Floyd told me how a 
 sheikh shook his fist and fairly gnashed his teeth at the 
 mention of the Sultan. "He wished he had the Sultan 
 here" intimating by gesture as well as by words that he 
 would run his spear through the sacred body of the 
 Padisha. Such refractory sheikhs are not easily made 
 into faithful and obedient subjects ; and it can hardly be 
 wondered at if the Grand Vizier, sitting on his legs, and 
 smoking his chibouque, and not wishing to be disturbed, 
 gives it uj) as a bad job. 
 
 But because the Turks cannot subdue these wild tribes 
 of the desert, it does not follow that they cannot be subdu- 
 ed by any power. The best proof that they can be, is that 
 they ham been. It is not so long ago that the present gen- 
 eration should forget that there was a time when Ibrahim 
 Pasha invaded Palestine and Syria. For ten years he was 
 master of the country, and he governed it. The Arabs soon 
 found that they had a master. A few prompt executions, 
 a few sheikhs swung in air, and a few villages destroyed, 
 and the idea was faii'ly driven into their rebellious heads, 
 that they were deahng with a ruler who could not be 
 trifled with. "In those days," said Dr. Van Dyck of Beii'ut, 
 " you did not need a guard if you stepped out of doors, or 
 passed from village to village ; you could travel in safety 
 from one end of the land to the other." 
 
 This was the first time in centuries that Syria had been 
 governed. But such a state of things was too blissful to 
 last. England and France, true to their j^olicy of uphold- 
 ing Turkey, and fearful lest the Egyptian army should 
 march on Constantinople, must interfere, and in another 
 siege of Acre stopped Ibrahim Pasha as Sir Sidney Smith 
 had stopped Napoleon. Ibrahim was compelled to give up 
 
PROJECTED RAILWAY IN PALESTINE. 147 
 
 his hold on Syria and retreat to Egypt, and at once the 
 old anarchy came back again, and still continues, with no 
 hope of being destroyed till some other power than Turkey 
 shall become master of the country, whether it obtain it by 
 war or peace, by conquest or by civiHzation. 
 
 " Civihzation ? " What civilization can there be amid 
 so much barbarism ? At present the only sign of civiliza- 
 tion is the httle wire which runs along the Hue of telegraph 
 poles. But that slender wire is the nerve that links three 
 continents together. Starting from Caii'o, and crossing the 
 desert to Jaffa and Jerusalem, it unites Asia to Africa ; and 
 then circling round the head of the Mediterranean, reaches 
 Constantinople, and there touches the gi'eat system of 
 communication which spreads over Europe. This wire 
 therefore is not so slight a thing as it seems : it is the fore- 
 runner of civilization — a sign of greater things which are 
 to foUow. / 
 
 Of one of these there is a suggestion already in the pro- 
 posed constraction of "the first railway in Palestine"! 
 For a year past there have been rumors of a negotiation 
 on the part of bankers in Beirut, probably with the aid of 
 bankers in Constantinople, as the result of which it is 
 finally announced that the Sultan — m consideration of a 
 handsome royalty, equivalent to a large land tax — has 
 leased to them the Plain of Esdraelon, with the condition 
 that he shall protect it from the incursions of the Beda- 
 ween ; and that, as a part of the agreement, they receive a 
 concession for a railway. Accordingly they propose to 
 turn their large acquisition to account by the construction 
 of a railway from Acre to Damascus, which would strike 
 dii-ectly across the Plain of Esdraelon. It is suggested 
 that there might be a station for Nazareth (!), though it 
 would pass twelve miles south of the town, which might be 
 approached still nearer by a branch road to the foot of the 
 
148 PROJECTED RAILWAY IN PALESTINE. 
 
 Galilean Hills ; while the main line, descending the vaUey 
 of Jezreel, would " pass over Jordan," near an old Roman 
 bridge, part of which is stiU standing and in use. IVIr. 
 Laurence Oliphant, an authority in aU matters relating to 
 the East, writing from Haifa, says : "Near this ancient 
 Roman bridge of three arches, which is used to this day 
 by the caravans of camels which bring the produce of the 
 Hauran to the coast, the new railway bridge will cross the 
 Jordan, probably the only one in the world which will have 
 for its neighbor an actual bridge in use which was built by 
 the Romans — ^thus, in this new, semi-barbarous country, 
 bringing into close contact an ancient and a modern civil- 
 ization." From the point of crossing the Jordan, the rail- 
 way would keep along its bank till it diverged farther to 
 the East to skirt the hills that rise on the shore of the Sea 
 of Galilee. In its route to Damascus, it would traverse 
 the Hauran, one of the richest agricultural regions in the 
 East, the produce of which, no longer borne on the backs 
 of camels, could now be carried, not only more swiftly, but 
 in immensely greater bulk [one freight train would trans- 
 port more than a dozen caravans] to the Mediterranean. / 
 
 This would be indeed a commercial revolution in the 
 Holy Land. But that is not the end. Still grander pro- 
 jects have been suggested, such as that of a canal which 
 should rival the Suez Canal, or of a longer raih-oad, which 
 should furnish another route to India besides that through 
 Egypt. The late war awakened England to the absolute 
 necessity, in order to preserve her Indian Empire, of a 
 means of communication with it which cannot be inter- 
 rupted or destroyed. "While it is proposed to construct a 
 second Suez Canal, the question is asked if there may not 
 be another water-way from the Mediterranean to the Red 
 Sea ; and engineers searching along the coast of Syria 
 have suggested that it would be possible to make another 
 
A CANAL DOWN THE JORDAN VALLEY. 149 
 
 Port Said at Haifa, just above the head of Mount Carmel, 
 from wtdch a canal might be carried across the Plain of 
 Esdraelon to the Jordan, and down its valley to the Dead 
 Sea, from which a canal could be cut across the desert to 
 Aliaba, where it would strike the other arm of the Bed Sea 
 fi'om that reached by the Suez Canal. / 
 
 Such a line it is easy to di-aw on the map, but to the 
 execution of the project there is one great natural diffi- 
 culty, in the depression of the Dead Sea, which is thirteen 
 hundred feet below the level of the Mediterranean. The 
 same difficulty would not be experienced in constructing 
 a railroad, which, if not as effective for commerce, would 
 answer equally well for subduing and civilizing the coun- 
 try. Before the Bedaween can be civilized they must be 
 governed ; and to be governed they must be subdued ; 
 and to be subdued they must be reached. The first thing 
 is to jT^at at them. An army cannot be transported across 
 the deseii on camels. The Arabs would fly faster than the 
 army could follow, only to return as soon as it was gone. 
 But with a railroad reaching to the Gulf of Akaba, troops 
 could easily be transported to within striking distance of 
 the most powerful tribes. As the Pacific railroads are 
 settUng the Indian question, so railroads across the desert 
 may yet settle the Arab question. / 
 
 But the project of a canal is the more captivating to 
 the imagiaation, and it is hard to say to modem engineers 
 that anything is impossible. This is an age of the world 
 when the wildest anticipations of the past are exceeded by 
 the reahties of the present, and when it is but in the nat- 
 ural course of things, that young men should dream 
 dreams and old men should see visions. It would seem 
 indeed like a dream of prophecy fulfilled, if we could see 
 the ships of modern commerce gathering on that coast 
 from which the ancient Phenicians carried commerce and 
 
150 CANAL TO THE GULF OF AKABA. 
 
 civilization to Greece and Italy and Spain ; and passing 
 under the shadow of Carmel, enter the calm waters of an 
 artificial river, and unfold their sails, the white wings of 
 peace, over a plain which has been for ages the battle- 
 field of nations ; then dropj^ing slowly down into the 
 Valley of the Jordan, and crossing the Plain of Jericho, 
 (from which, but for the depression, the voyager might see 
 the domes and towers of Jerusalem,) pass through the 
 Dead Sea, under the shadow of the mountains of Moab, 
 and over the buried cities of the Plain, without disturbing 
 the dead of Sodom and Gomorrah ; and moving silently as 
 " painted ships upon a painted ocean," across the solemn 
 stniness of the desert, come at last to Akaba, and make a 
 port of the ancient Ezion-geber, from which sailed the 
 fleets of Solomon ! "What a dream ! Yet this may be, for 
 things more wonderful have been. By some such means 
 perhaps the Eastern question is to be solved. May we not 
 at least hope for it, and look for it ? Is it presumption to 
 pray that this generation may not pass away until this 
 dream shall be fulfilled ? / 
 
CHAPTEE Xm. 
 
 TO TIBERIAS THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT : IS IT 
 
 PHILOSOPHY/OR GENIUS, OR DIVINITY? 
 
 / It was Tuesday morning when we struck our tents at 
 Nazareth, where we had been camped since Saturday. In 
 that time a place becomes familiar, and we have a home 
 feeling about it that makes us leave it with regret. It was 
 with a tender feeling that we turned to look for the last 
 time at the peaceful valley where our Lord was a child ; 
 where he hved with his virgin mother. But the scene, like 
 childhood itself, must be left behind, that we may pass on 
 to other scenes connected not with the childhood, but with 
 the manhood, of him who is the Master of us aU. 
 
 The hill up which we were now riding was the same 
 which we climbed yesterday ; but as we passed over its 
 shoulder, instead of turning westward towards Mount Car- 
 mel, we kept northeast in the direction of the Lake of 
 Galilee, and soon came to places associated with the Old 
 Testament and the New. Here on our left, perched on a 
 high, steep hill, was the ancient Gath Hepher, the birth- 
 place of the prophet Jonah ; and next we rode into a Httle 
 village, which Floyd announced with a loud voice to be 
 Cana of GaUlee. As usual with these villages, it is clus- 
 tered about a fountain. "And this is the very fountain 
 
152 CANA OF GALILEE. 
 
 from which the water was taken that was tui-ned into 
 wine ! " This was so positive that it seemed as if it must 
 be authentic, and I sprang from my horse, and stooping 
 down, pkmged my face into the brimming pool, and took 
 a long draught. Some maidens, who had come to fill their 
 pitchers mth water, were " sitting on the well," and smiled, 
 as I thought, at my enthusiasm ; but Floyd said they were 
 laughing at the cut of my whiskers, for which I do not 
 blame them : for there must be something very unimpos- 
 ing, not to say ridiculous, in our close-cropped hair to 
 those accustomed to see the human countenance invested 
 with dignity, and even made venerable, by the flowing 
 Oriental beard. | 
 
 After the warmth with which I hailed this sacred spot, 
 it was a little chilling to be told that it was not without a 
 rival ; that there was another village of the same name not 
 far away, which Eobinson and other learned investigators 
 believed to be the trae Cana of Galilee. But I was not 
 willing to- give it up, for had I not been to the very house 
 where the marriage feast was celebrated, and seen the very 
 " water-pots " (huge earthen jars) in which the water stood 
 which was converted into wine ? It is not to be supposed 
 that this little village would willingly surrender its only 
 title to fame. The tradition is its capital. Accordingly, 
 there is a Greek priest on hand, gracious and smiling, 
 (whether at the creduHty of pilgrims or at the money he 
 receives,) who unlocks the door, and shows the interior, 
 with as little question of its genuineness as does the 
 custodian of Independence HaU, who shows the original 
 Declaration, with its immortal signatures. / 
 
 But whether the site of Cana can be identified or not, 
 this at least is certain, that we are in Galilee, the scene of 
 oui- Lord's ministry, at the beginning of which, "when 
 John was cast into prison, he departed into Galilee, and 
 
MOUNT OF THE BEATITUDES. 153 
 
 leaving Nazareth came and dwelt in Capernaum, which is 
 by the sea, in the borders of Zebulon and Naj^htali." In 
 going fi'om Nazareth to Capernaum, he must have crossed 
 these very hills and passed through these very valleys, all 
 of which are hallowed by association with him. These 
 associations gave a charm to that morning's ride, and when 
 it came to the hour of noon, and we halted in the shade 
 for our midday rest, I sat down at the foot of a tree and 
 took out my Bible, and read chapter after chapter of the 
 Gospel narrative. How real it all seems when one has the 
 very landscape in his eye, as a background of the sacred 
 story ! / 
 
 But now we are coming to a spot which makes us pause 
 and linger. It was the middle of the afternoon that we 
 were riding across an upland at the slow and even pace 
 into which travellers are apt to di'op, when Floyd bounded 
 ahead, and dashed up the side of a hiU, which rises out of 
 the plain. We followed, and when we had reined up 
 beside him, he said " This is the Mount of the Beatitudes ! 
 Here Chiist deHvered the Sermon on the Mount ! " Its 
 identity rests upon tradition, but in this case tradition is 
 so supported by natural probability, that cautious investi- 
 gators accept it as genuine. I dismounted with the feeling 
 that I ought to take my shoes off my feet : for this was 
 holy ground. The mount itself is not indeed imposing. 
 At first I was disappointed, as it seemed wanting in 
 majesty. A few weeks before I had stood upon Mount 
 Sinai, from which the Law was given amid thunderings and 
 lightnings ; but here the mount almost ^inks down into 
 the x^lain. Was this intended to symbolize the difference 
 between the Law and the Gospel : that we were not come 
 to the moimt that burned with fire — to blackness and dai'k- 
 ness and tempest — but to a mount that might he touched, 
 with no barrier between us and our Master, to forbid our 
 
154 MOUNT OF THE BEATITUDES. 
 
 coming to his very feet? The formation of the ground 
 is peculiar. It is not a rounded summit, but if we may 
 use a familiar expression, "saddle -backed," with rising 
 points at either end, which have given it the name of 
 the Horns of Hattin. Between these " horns " is a small 
 plateau, to which Christ is supposed to have descended 
 when he " came down into the plain." This plateau is 
 the bed of an old crater. To think that Christ should 
 have preached the Sermon on the Mount on the crater of 
 an extinct volcano ! But the gulf through which once 
 flamed the internal fires, is filled up now, and grass waves 
 over the buried ashes. 
 
 Walking over the ground to this j^oint and that, looking 
 off in every direction, I perceived that, though as seen 
 from the high plain to the west by which we approached, 
 " the mount " is only a gentle elevation, yet that it has a 
 commanding position relative to the surrounding country, 
 as it stands alone, on an upland, from which it has an 
 unbroken horizon, not being " dominated " by any higher 
 eminence in its immediate vicinity. In full view, nearly 
 two thousand feet below, lies the Sea of Galilee, with 
 mountains aU round it, far and near, whose sides are 
 turned towards this central position. But in the fore- 
 ground is nothing but this little plateau, which descends 
 so gently that thousands might be stretched on the grassy 
 slopes. Here then we may " rest awhile," as if taking a 
 seat with the multitude that once spread over this very 
 ground, to listen to words such as never fell from human 
 lips before. / 
 
 The Sermon on the Mount is the most remarkable dis- 
 course of our Lord that has been preserved to us. As we 
 are travelling, not merely for sight-seeing but for instruc- 
 tion, we cannot pass by this sacred spot, any more than by 
 the Mount of OUves or the Garden of Gethsemane, with- 
 
THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. 155 
 
 out pausing to reflect on the lessons given to the world. 
 Here, as at Nazareth, we have an oppoi-tunity to study 
 Christianity on the spot where it began, and may be able 
 to judge if it can be " explained," according to Eenan, on 
 natui-al principles, or on some theory of moral " evolu- 
 tion"; or we are compelled to admit that there is in it 
 something which is supernatural and divine. 
 
 "And he went up into a mountain, and when he was 
 set his disciples came unto him." So simply does the 
 record begin. The sermon was addressed, first of all, to 
 his disciples, but in another sense, to the whole world. 
 The mount, though so modest in itself, was in the very 
 focus of a wide region of country. Standing in the centre 
 of a vast circumference, it seemed to be in the sight of all 
 Galilee, and GaHlee was then one of the most populous 
 provinces of the Koman Empire. It is ahnost incredible, 
 the number of cities and villages which, according to 
 Josephus, it contained. They hung on the sides of the 
 mountains, stretching downward to the shore of the Lake 
 below, so that Chiist, sitting on this mount, seemed to 
 have the world at his feet ; and to be speaking, not to his 
 disciples only, but to all mankind. ' 
 
 "And he opened his mouth and taught them." The 
 first thing which strikes us is the absence of pretension. 
 There is no air of assumption, either in attitude or look or 
 voice. He does not stand erect, like an orator, but takes 
 his seat on the ground, after the Oriental custom, ^e 
 does not even raise his hand to hush the impatient crowd : 
 it does not need to be stilled ; for as it creeps closer to his 
 feet, it hushes itself, that it may catch every word. He 
 gathers his little famHy around him, for his words are to 
 them, though heard by the multitude that presses forward 
 to be within sound of his voice. They Usten for the first 
 sentence. And what is it? Some gi'eat sweUing word of 
 
156 WHO ARE THE TRULY BLESSED. 
 
 philosopliy ? Some abstract definition or subtle analysis? 
 Nothing of all this, but simply "Blessed are the poor in 
 spiiit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." The first word 
 of the Sermon on the Mount is a word of consolation. The 
 world is full of suffering, which Christ comes to relieve. 
 In the multitude that gathered round him, as in the 
 pojoulation of Galilee, the mass were poor, and it may be 
 that he had first in mind the literal poor, towards whom 
 his heart was fall of tenderness, and in reversing the 
 maxims of the world, he shows how the poor may be rich, 
 and those who have little to look for in this world may be 
 heirs of the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 But the poor are not the only ones who need to be told 
 where true peace is to be found. The world is all astray, 
 seeking happiness where it can find only disappointment. 
 There is a j)hilosophy of the world, embodied in its maxims 
 — a philosoi)hy in proverbs — which sums up its average 
 wisdom. It is a philosophy which glorifies success ; which 
 counts him the happy man who has had his fill of gratified 
 avarice and ambition. We are all more or less under this 
 illusion. If we were asked to point out the most happy 
 men within the circle of our observation, we might i^oint to 
 the most successful, to the rich, the great, and the proud. 
 
 Not so speaks our Master. His philosophy is directly 
 opposed to that of the world. It is not in gratifying the 
 passions, but in subduing them, that rest is to be found. 
 Blessed — not are the rich, but the poor ; not the proud, 
 but the meek ; not they that rejoice, but they that mourn. 
 
 Does it seem as if these things were spoken by way of 
 paradox, merely to startle and surprise ? But that was not 
 the way of our Master, who never said anything for effect, 
 but spoke always in the severe simplicity of truth. We 
 have to learn by bitter experience that it is the only truth. 
 Let the philosopher take these maxims of Christ, and sub- 
 
PEACE FOUND ONLY IN HUMILITY. 157 
 
 ject them to tlie most rigorous analysis, and he will find 
 them to contain not the truth in a metaphor, but the truth 
 in its most literal sense. Can any statement be more pre- 
 cisely true than that there is more of peace in a lowly 
 spirit than in a proud spirit? Pride is an uneasy and 
 uncomfortable temper, always restless and dissatisfied. 
 Humility alone can give peace, because it alone is consist- 
 ent with our real condition. If a man thinks highly of 
 himself, he thinks falsely. Whatever may be our position 
 as related to others, yet in the eye of God, who alone sees 
 things as they are, we are but creatures of a moment, 
 " whose foundation is in the dust, which are crushed before 
 the moth" : 
 
 " O why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? " 
 
 "When a man is content to take the place in his own esteem 
 that he has in the eye of God, then he will find that perfect 
 repose and tranquillity of mind which is the first condition 
 of true peace and happiness. 
 
 " Ye are the light of the world ! " This was spoken to 
 his disciples, not to inflame their pride, but to give them a 
 new sense of obligation. Looking up from the sj)ot where 
 our Saviour sat, we can see even now a town on the crest 
 of a mountain (Safed), the very -same which, it is believed, 
 caught his eye at the moment, and gave emphasis to his 
 illustration : "A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid." 
 So luminous should be the power of example. It was not 
 enough to have a secret desire for goodness : " Let your 
 light so shine before men that they may see your good 
 works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." 
 
 Then declaring that he is not come to destroy the law 
 or the prophets, but to fulfil them, Christ gives them a 
 broader meaning by extending the obligation to the heart. 
 Lust is adultery, and hatred is mui'der. No foi-m of devo- 
 
158 A REVOLUTION IN MORALS. 
 
 tion can make up for inward bitterness : " If tlion bring 
 thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy 
 brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift before 
 the altar, and go thy way ; first be reconciled to thy 
 brother, and then come and offer thy gift." He abrogates 
 the law of revenge — the lex talionis : "An eye for an eye, 
 and a tooth for a tooth " ; "I say unto you, Love your 
 enemies ; bless them that curse you ; do good to them 
 that hate you ; pray for them which despitefully use you 
 and persecute you." This is a revolution in morals ! In 
 presenting a standard of virtue so exalted, our Lord en- 
 forces it by the highest of all examples : "That ye may be 
 the children of your Father which is in heaven : for he 
 maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and 
 his rain to descend on the just and on the unjust. Be ye 
 therefore perfect even as your Father in heaven is perfect." 
 Here virtue soars to the highest point. Compared with 
 this, what is ordinary virtue ? Patriotism is only selfish- 
 ness in an enlarged form, an inseparable part of which is 
 "Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy." 
 But here man is taught to cultivate a love which is that of 
 God himself. / 
 
 So of the religious offices of almsgiving and prayer. 
 Christ counts for little the ostentatious and boastful parade 
 of charity : but the secret offering, unseen by all but God, 
 which falls like the dew upon some blighted and suffering 
 human life — that alone has any virtue in his sight. And 
 prayer ! How vain and idle are the long petitions which 
 resound in public places, to attract the ear of the multi- 
 tude ! "After this manner pray : ' Our Father.' " That 
 word changes at once the relation of man to his Maker. 
 It is not a cold and distant Power, enthroned among the 
 stars, to which man offers a worship born of fear rather 
 than of love, but a Being with whom he may claim kindred, 
 
THE LORD^S PRAYER. 159 
 
 to whom he stands in the nearest relation, and may ap- 
 proach with the tenderest words. "Our Father" — not 
 mine onl^^ but the God and Father of all mankind ; and 
 yet mine, in the sense that he is very near to me, as to 
 every human soul. With such a Father, how sweet it is to 
 be a child ! " Heaven," it is said, " is about us in our 
 infancy." But what is the heaven of poetry to the heaven 
 of love ? In our Father's house we are at home ; we hide 
 in his pavilion ; we are folded under the shadow of his 
 wings ; and in the warmth of that Infinite Heart our 
 trembhng heaii;s cease their thi'obbings and are still. 
 " Hallowed be thy name : Thy kingdom come : Thy wiU 
 be done on earth as it is in heaven." Short sentences, few 
 words, but with a sweep that includes the universe. He 
 who bows upon his knees with every morning's light, and 
 repeats these words from the bottom of his heart — who can 
 say lovingly " Our Father," and reverently " Hallowed be 
 thy name : Thy kingdom come," and submissively (though 
 it be sometimes with a breaking heart) " Thy will be 
 DONE ! " — we had almost said, need offer no other prayer. 
 At least he has caught the sj)irit of aU true devotion. For 
 oui'selves, our wants are few : daily bread ; forgiveness, 
 (which is promised to us only as we forgive those who 
 have trespassed against us,) and freedom from temptation 
 and from sin — this is all for which we need to pray — 
 these are all the real wants which we have occasion to 
 bring to the Giver of ail good. 
 
 To minds troubled with care and longing for worldly 
 possessions, what a rebuke is this : " Lay not up treasures 
 upon earth, but lay up treasures in heaven ! " Vain are the 
 anxieties with which men vex themselves in aU the years 
 through which they make their journey to the grave. 
 " Take no thought for your life what ye shall eat, or what 
 ye shall diink, or what ye shall put on." At that moment, 
 
160 THE GOLDEN RULE. 
 
 it may be, birds, which abound in Palestine, were flying 
 across the sky, and instantly he takes a lesson from them : 
 " Behold the fowls of the air ! they sow not, neither do 
 they reap, nor gather into bams ; yet your Heavenly 
 Father feedeth them." Another glance takes in the wild 
 flowers that cover the valleys and the hills, and he adds 
 "And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the 
 liHes of the field, how they grow ; they toil not, neither do 
 they spin. And yet Solomon in all his glory was not 
 arrayed like one of these." 
 
 He cautions his disciples against that hasty judgment 
 of others, to wliich we are all so much inclined, disposing 
 lightly and flippantly of reputations which are dear to 
 them as ours are to ourselves. What if the same easy 
 and careless mode of judgment were turned upon us! 
 How could our characters stand the scrutiny ? Might we 
 not find, at the very moment we were endeavoring to 
 pluck a mote out of our neighbor's eye, that we had a 
 beam in our own ? In repressing this proneness to harsh 
 judgment, our Lord lays his finger on one of the chief 
 vices of society, one which was the reproach of ancient 
 times as it is the scandal of our own. Nothing in all the 
 wide round of human wickedness is more selfish or cruel 
 than this mean and malignant depreciation of our neigh- 
 bors, as if we were better than they. In this as in all 
 things — in words or in deeds — ^there is one rule to be fol- 
 lowed : " Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto 
 you, do ye even so unto them " — a rule so simple and so 
 comprehensive that all the ages have pronounced it the 
 Golden Rule, as summing up the whole duty of men in 
 their relations to each other. / 
 
 Last of all, our Master enjoins a transparent sincerity. 
 Vain is concealment or hypocrisy. "By their fruits ye 
 shall know them." Truth alone is the foundation of char- 
 
A WISDOM ABOVE HUMAN PHILOSOPHY. 161 
 
 acter, and that only -will stand when aU else is swept away. 
 It is vain to build upon the sand, however imposing may 
 be the structure to the eye. "And the rain descended, and 
 the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that 
 house, and it feU, and gi-eat was the fall of it." / 
 
 Absorbed in such thoughts, we lingered on the Mount 
 of the Beatitudes, as if chained by a speU which we would 
 not have broken. Were such words ever uttered by hu- 
 man hps before? "Was there ever such wisdom united 
 with such charity? The scene on the Moimt is indeed 
 changed ; the multitude is departed, and the Great 
 Teacher ; but the words here spoken have gone into aU 
 the world ; they have been translated into aU the lan- 
 guages of men, and are as fresh to-day as eighteen hun- 
 dred years ago. They cannot die. As long as there are 
 human hearts to suffer — men to soitow and to weep — 
 they win come to Christ the Consoler. Compared with 
 this, what is the wisdom of the world ! The sayings of aU 
 the philosophers — not only of the Grecian sages, but of 
 those who assumed the lofty role of founders of Eeligion, 
 of Mohammed, of Confucius, and of Buddha — would not 
 make the Sermon on the Mount. Its superiority to their 
 teachings strikes even those who are accounted unbe- 
 lievers, who cannot but recognize this sublime moraHty, 
 and pay their tribute to him who gave it to the world. 
 Says the celebrated French writer, Rousseau : / 
 
 I confess that the majesty of the Scriptures astonishes me; 
 the sanctity of the Gospel speaks to my heart. See the books of 
 the philosophers with all their pomp— how small are they com- 
 pared to this ! Can it be that a book at once so sublime and so 
 simple should be the work of men ? Can it be that he whose his- 
 tory it gives should be only a man himself ? Is there here the 
 tone of an enthusiast, of an ambitious sectary ? What mildness, 
 what purity in his manners ! What touching grace in his instruc- 
 tions ! What elevation in his maxims ! What profound wisdom 
 
162 ROUSSEAU ON THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 
 
 in his discourses ! What presence of mind, what finesse and yet 
 what justice in his answers! What empire over his passions! 
 Where is the man, where is the sage, who knows how to act, to 
 suffer, and to die, without weakness and without ostentation ? 
 When Plato painted his ideal just man, covered with all the op- 
 probrium of crime, while worthy of all the rewards of virtue, he 
 drew trait for trait the picture of Jesus Christ : the resemblance is 
 so striking that all the Fathers perceived it, and it is impossible 
 to mistake it. What prejudice, what blindness, to dare to com- 
 pare the son of Sophronisca with the son of Mary! What a 
 distance from the one to the other ! Socrates dying without pain, 
 without ignominy, sustains easily his character to the end ; and if 
 this calm death had not honored his life, one might have doubted 
 whether Socrates with all his genius was more than a sophist. 
 He discovered, they tell us, the principles of morality ; but others 
 before him had put them in practice ; he only put in words what 
 they had done ; he but turned their examples into lessons. Aris- 
 tides had been just before Socrates had set forth the nature of 
 justice; Leonidas had died for his coimtiy before Socrates had 
 made it a duty to love one's country, Sparta was sober before 
 Socrates praised sobriety; before he defined virtue, Greece 
 abounded in virtuous men. But where did Jesus find among 
 his own people that pure and elevated morality of which he gave 
 at once the lessons and the example ? From the bosom of the 
 most furious fanaticism was heard the highest wisdom, and the 
 simplicity of the most heroic virtues honored the vilest of all 
 peoples. The death of Socrates, philosophizing tranquilly with 
 his friends, is the mildest that one could desire : that of Jesus 
 expiring in torments, injured, railed at, cursed by a whole people, 
 is the most horrible that one could dread. Socrates, taking the 
 poisoned cup, thanks him who presents it and who weeps : Jesus 
 in the midst of frightful sufferings, prays for his enraged mur- 
 derers. Truly, if the life and the death of Socrates were those of 
 a philosopher, the life and the death of Jesus Christ were those of 
 a God ! / 
 
 Yes truly : " the life and the death of Jesus Christ were 
 those of a God " I No other explanation will meet the 
 case. Natural causes utterly fail to account for the stu- 
 pendous reality. And so the teachings of the Great Master 
 
NOT GENIUS, BUT DIVINITY. 163 
 
 are far beyond the range of human wisdom or philosophy. 
 Genius can do many things, but in the Sermon on the 
 Mount there is that which is not genius — it is Divinity.* 
 
 After this long musing on the Mount of the Beatitudes, 
 we rode on silently. In the presence of such a scene, one 
 cannot easily descend to the level of historical associations, 
 however great. Had we place for anj^thing else, we might 
 remember that on this very mount, and on the plain around 
 it, was fought nearly seven hundred years ago (July 5th, 
 1187) the last battle of the Crusaders, whom Saladin here 
 crushed by one tremendous blow ; and yet the contrast 
 of such teiTible scenes does but heighten the sacred beauty 
 of this spot — the Mount of Peace rising above the Sea of 
 Blood. / 
 
 In turning away from the Mount of the Beatitudes, we 
 were not leaving the scenes of our Lord's ministry : for 
 before us, in the deep bosom of the hiUs, was the Sea of 
 Galilee. The descent is not unlike that to the Dead Sea. 
 The hills indeed are not so bleak as those of the Wilder- 
 ness of Judea, nor is the depression of the waters so great ; 
 but looking down from the heights above, it seemed as if 
 we were going down to the bottom of the mountains. 
 
 * The force of this testimony was felt by no one more than the 
 late Daniel "Webster, who, on his death-bed, on a Sabbath evening, 
 Oct. 10th, 1852, (he died on the 24:th) dictated, and on the 15th 
 "revised and corrected with his own hand," this inscription to be 
 placed on his tomb : 
 
 " LOED, I BELIEVE ; HELP THOU MINE UNBELIEF. 
 
 "Philosophical argument, especially that drawn from the vast- 
 ness of the miiverse, in comparison with the apparent insignifi- 
 cance of this globe, has sometimes shalien my reason for the faith 
 which is in me ; but my heart has always assured and reassured 
 me that the Gospel of Jesus Christ must be a Divine Keality. 
 The Sermon on the Mount cannot be a mere human production. 
 This belief enters into the very depth of my conscience. The 
 whole history of man proves it."/ 
 
164: APPROACHINa THE SEA OF GALILEE. 
 
 Below us in fuH view, on the shores of the Lake, was a 
 town of some pretensions as towns go in Palestine. Seen 
 from a distance, with its ancient tower and its encircling 
 wall, it appears not unworthy of a history that dates from 
 the time of the Eomans, and of its Imperial name of 
 Tiberias. But as we draw nearer, its gTandeur disap- 
 pears, its tower cannot boast of being a fortress, and there 
 are sad rents in its battered wall. Kiding through its 
 ancient archway, and along its narrow streets, we observe 
 at once a striking contrast with Nazareth, which has a 
 Christian, while Tiberias has a Jewish, population. At 
 almost every door and in almost every shop we recognized 
 the corkscrew curls and the peculiar dress, the cap of fur 
 and the long gabardine, which in all the East mark the 
 sons of Abraham. / 
 
 Passing through the town to the farther end, we found 
 our tents pitched on the shore of the lake, and were never 
 more glad to get into camp. Not only had we taken a long 
 day's ride, but in descending the hills we had come into a 
 warmer region. Owing to its depression, the Sea of Gali- 
 lee, like the Dead Sea, has a tropical climate, so that we 
 were heated as well as fatigued when we crawled off our 
 horses. Hardly had we dismounted before I strolled 
 down the lake to seek a retired place to bathe. There 
 are hot sulphur baths close to the shore, which have been 
 famous for two thousand years, to which Herod came to 
 cleanse his blood. The springs still come steaming out 
 of the hills, and are the resort of multitudes. A large 
 building encloses a circular bathing-room, where at any 
 hour of the day may be found many plunging into the 
 water, or sitting on the marble rim of the basin sweltering 
 in the hot vapor : but as it seemed to be a sort of Pool of 
 Bethesda for those suffering from all kinds of diseases, I 
 was content v\dth mere observation, and sought rather the 
 
TWILIGHT ON THE LAKE. 165 
 
 cool margin of the lake, and was soon swimming in its 
 tranquil waters. / ^ 
 
 Thus refreshed, I returned to sit in the tent door in 
 the cool of the day, and watch the shadows creeping over 
 "the deep," and climbing the sides of the opposing hiUs. 
 The waters were cahn and stiU, the evening wind causing 
 only the gentlest ripple on the bosom of the lake. " The 
 shades of night were gathering fast " ; but remembering 
 who once walked upon these waters, I could not doubt that 
 his form was still gliding through the shadows ; there were 
 soft whisperings in the air, and patient, gentle words of 
 forgiveness ; and to the trembling heart came the reassur- 
 ing voice : " It is I : be not afraid ! "/ 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 ROUND THE SEA OF GALILEE. 
 
 / It is not a sea, but a lake, and not even a lake of broad 
 expanse, as we measure lakes in America, but rather 
 resembles one of the small but exquisitely beautiful Eng- 
 lish lakes, like Windermere, or a Scotch loch lying in the 
 lap of the Grampian HiUs. It is larger than Loch Katrine, 
 but smaller than Loch Lomond, and much inferior in the 
 majesty given to it by a girdle of lofty mountains. In this 
 respect it is not even the first in Palestine : for it is much 
 inferior to the Dead Sea, both in size and in the boldness 
 of the suiTounding scenery. The encircling hills do not 
 rise so high, nor descend so abruptly. The slopes are 
 more gentle. Instead of coming down sheer into the 
 lake, there is an interval between the waters and the hiUs. 
 As I stand upon the shore this morning, the hills on the 
 other side are indeed beautiful as the sun rises over them ; 
 but they have not the sombre grandeur of the mountains 
 of Moab, which at this hour cast dark shadows on the 
 waters below. Perhaps we might distinguish the two 
 bodies of water by saying that while one has a character 
 of majesty, the other has that of softness and grace — fit 
 symbols of the histories they tell, the one of wrath and 
 
WHY DID OUR LORD CHOOSE A LAKE? 167 
 
 ruin, of judgment and destruction ; the other of mildness 
 and mercy, of gentleness and peace./ 
 
 But whatever of majesty may be wanting in the Gali- 
 lean lake, is more than made up by its sacred associations : 
 for it is the Lake of Jesus, as it was the chief scene of his 
 ministry. Here he lived for the greater part of three 
 years. He walked along this pebbled beach ; he sailed 
 across these waters, or sat in a boat and talked to the mul- 
 titude on the shore ; and at night retired into the recesses 
 of these hills to pray : so that everything around us — the 
 hills and waters, the waving trees, and even the moaning 
 night winds — all speak of him. With such associations, it 
 is not too much to say with Dean Stanley that this is " the 
 most sacred sheet of water that this earth contains."/ 
 
 But why did our Lord choose a lake for the scene of his 
 ministry, and not only the lake-side, but the lake itself ? If 
 we were to follow the method of those naturalistic writers, 
 who are ready with a plausible explanation of eveiyfching, 
 we might supjDOse that he was attracted to the spot by his 
 love of nature. Renan, who has made such a careful study 
 of the life of Jesus in its merely human aspect, and in its 
 relation to its surroundings of place and time, remarks 
 constantly this exquisite sensibility (which he would per- 
 haps say was a poetic temperament) to the beauty of the 
 external world. Christ loved the fields and the flowers, 
 the mountain top with its wide horizon, and the soft, ten- 
 der beauty of the valley below. We can well believe that 
 he was keenly alive to the natural beauty of this lake, while 
 it was to him also a mirror of human life — its changing 
 moods of storm and calm, emblems of the agitations of the 
 human soul, which would subside only when he should 
 say : Peace, be still ! / 
 
 Other reasons occur to us. Li coming to the Lake of 
 Galilee, our Lord did not wander far away from home. It 
 
168 DENSE POPULATION ROUND THE LAKE. 
 
 was but a day's journey fL'om Nazareth, wliere he had 
 passed the long period from childhood to mature man- 
 hood. As he had just entered on his active ministry, he 
 naturally sought the centres of population. The iDrovince 
 of Galilee had at this time about three millions of inhab- 
 itants. The hills around the lake were thick with villages, 
 and swarming with people. Travellers in Italy are struck 
 with the dense population of some of the mountain dis- 
 tricts, where innumerable hamlets are scattered among the 
 orange and the lemon groves, and cling, like trailing vines, 
 to the sides of the hills. Not unUke this were the hillsides 
 round the Sea of Galilee, while its shores were lined with 
 fishing villages. Then, as now, the lake abounded with 
 fish, which supplied food for a large population. The 
 lake was aUve with boats, not only in the daytime, but 
 at night, when the stars shine so brightly ia these Eastern 
 heavens ; and if the Hebrews were a musical people, it 
 is not unreasonable to suppose that often the boatmen 
 sang their native airs, which echoed from shore to shore, 
 as the waters of Venice echo with the song of the gon- 
 dolier. / 
 
 Access to these multitudes was rendered easy by the 
 climate, as well as by the country. The ministry of our 
 Lord was an itinerant ministry. He had no fixed place of 
 teaching. He did not set up a school of theology, like 
 Hillel or other learned rabbis ; nor did he preach chiefly 
 in the synagogues, but out of doors, under the open sky. 
 He went from city to city and village to village. This 
 wandering life could be possible only in a mUd climate. 
 Such is that of the Sea of Galilee. Owing to its great 
 depression, it has a southern chmate in a northern lati- 
 tude. Its vegetation is tropical : palms grow in the 
 open air. Hence the people lived out of doors, as the 
 people now live round the Bay of Naples, and could come 
 
ACCESS TO PLACES OF RETIREMENT. 1G9 
 
 together at any place or any hour, when the Great Teacher 
 apj)eared. 
 
 Thus wandering along the lake shore, he fixed his eye 
 upon the Twelve. Can any one suppose it a mere chance, 
 or a matter of indifference, that he chose his first disciples 
 fi'om among fishermen? All over the world a seafaring 
 population has a peculiar character — open, fi-ank, and 
 manly. Men of the sea have to, do with a restless and 
 treacherous element, and fi-equent exposui'e to danger 
 makes them feaiiess and bold. Of such men of the sea 
 did Chiist choose those who were to follow him, whom he 
 would make fishers of men. j^ 
 
 Here was a Httle world by itself, shut in by the hills, 
 yet full of life, to which the Master came. But life was not 
 all that he needed : at times he needed a separation from 
 life, absolute and complete. By such separation the great 
 religious spiiits of the world have nursed their strengih. 
 An irresistible impulse leads them to seek the wilderness. 
 So Jesus loved silence and solitude. He did not shun the 
 society of men so long as he could do them good. But 
 when the work of the day was done, he sought retirement. 
 At Jerusalem he found it near at hand on the Mount of 
 OUves. Here he found it on the lake, or the hiUs around 
 it. Thus he had the busy world on one side, and perfect 
 seclusion on the other. He could preach aU day to the 
 multitude that thronged him ; he could heal the sick, and 
 labor to the poiat of weariness and exhaustion ; and then 
 could put off from the shore into the lake, and float in the 
 twilight, or seek the recesses of the hiQs, and there con- 
 tinue all night in prayer to God. / 
 
 And now we were standing on the shore of this Sea of 
 Galilee, full of such sacred memories. To see it well, the 
 traveller may choose either of two ways — to ride around 
 it or to sail over it. We prefen^ed the latter. The facili- 
 
170 CROSSING THE LAKE. 
 
 ties are not great. On this wliole lake, once alive with its 
 fisheries, there are now less than a dozen boats. Fortu- 
 nately one of these was lying on the beach, which we 
 engaged for the day, with its native crew. It was prob- 
 ably the same kind of boat or " ship " used in the time of 
 our Saviour, with which he often crossed these waters. It 
 had half a dozen boatmen, which we found few enough : 
 for although there was a light wind, which just fiUed the 
 single sail, and steadied the boat, we had to rely mainly on 
 their oars, which were long, heavy, and clumsy, being only 
 small trees, with the " butt end " hewn down to make a 
 narrow blade. Spreading our tent blankets on the seats 
 or in the bottom of the boat, we sat or crouched as we 
 could, while the men edged in between us wherever they 
 could get a sweep for their arms. 
 
 The distance from Tiberias 'to the head of the lake is 
 eight or nine miles, which, with the Italian boatmen on 
 Lake Como or in Venice, would not seem very much ; but 
 the boats here are not made for speed — they are rather 
 fishermen's boats, with broad bottoms to take in a good 
 haul of the net. | 
 
 But who would hasten his speed along these sacred 
 shores? The morning was not made for haste, but for 
 floating in dreamy and delicious reveries. It had been 
 very hot on shore, but the heat was soon tempered by the 
 lake breeze. In the novel scene each one showed his bent. 
 Weeden, as if he were on a saiHng excursion at home, 
 began to hum " 'Way down on Bingo Farm "; while Mrs. 
 Adams, entering more into the spirit of the scene, sang 
 softly to herself " Fierce was the wild billow." I had my 
 eye fixed on the shores as we glided by. Tiberias is 
 far more picturesque from the v/ater than from the land. 
 On the other side of the lake, to which we come nearer 
 as we " launch out into the deej)," is the country of the 
 
A PULL FOR THE SHORE. 171 
 
 Gadarenes. On yonder sloping hillside it is supposed the 
 demons entered into the swine, who, maddened with the 
 diaboHcal possession, rushed down the steep and plunged 
 into the sea. Northeasterly is the plain on which Christ 
 fed the five thousand ; and westward, where the lake 
 broadens out to its greatest width, is the Plain of Gen- 
 nesareth, on the border of which is a miserable hamlet, 
 which would not have a name but for the touching story 
 of an unhappy woman, who brought her sorrows and her 
 sins to the Saviour's feet, and there found pai'don and 
 peace. It is Magdala, which gives name to Mary Mag- 
 dalene. / 
 
 While thus gazing at the shores, we were making 
 progress but slowly, and with both sail and oars it took us 
 four hours to come to the upper end of the lake, where the 
 hills part to the right and the left, opening a broad plain 
 through which the Jordan descends to the sea. As the 
 forenoon was nearly spent, we were looking out for a place 
 for our noonday camp. Our dragoman pointed to a tree 
 on the shore which, standing quite solitary, presented the 
 only hope of shade. A tree is a great thing under a 
 S;^'rian sun. We congTatulated ourselves on the prospect, 
 and were akeady beginning to feel its coolness in anticipa- 
 tion, when we descried in the distance a party on horse- 
 back, which had made the journey round the head of the 
 lake, and were now coming over the hills, evidently bent 
 on the same destination. They discovered us at the 
 moment that we discovered them, and put spurs to their 
 horses to be first on the ground. It was a race between 
 horses and boatmen. Had the distances been the same, 
 we should have had no chance at all ; but as we were per- 
 hajDS a mile nearer the landing, we determined to make the 
 most of it, and starting up from our seats, we cheered our 
 meu with hope of reward. Backsheesh alw^ays has a mirac- 
 
172 AN ENGLISH PARTY. 
 
 tdous effect on the spirit of a Syrian, and the six swarthy 
 backs bent to their oars and pulled as if for life, and sud- 
 denly the battered boat (like an old horse that has been 
 jogging along the road, till a sudden cut of the whip wakes 
 him up and sets him flying) began to kick up her heels, 
 and to rush madly through the water. In a few minutes 
 she struck the beach, and leaping from the bow, we rushed 
 for the tree, and spread our rugs at its foot, which was as 
 good as hoisting a flag to take possession of a conquered 
 country. The ground was ours, and we " squatted " on it 
 with a proud sense of possession. Hardly were we seated 
 when the mounted party came up at full speed. It proved 
 to be not wholly a party of strangers, as it was composed 
 of EngHsh officers, some of whom I had met in Jerusalem. 
 They were attached to the Bacchante, which had been tak- 
 ing the young Princes round the world, and was now 
 sailing slowly along the Syrian coast, while they, under the 
 guidance of their tutors, were making visits to different 
 parts of Palestine. As the ship was at Acre, this party had 
 taken advantage of being in port for a day or two, to ride 
 over the hills and visit the Sea of Galilee. The dragoman 
 was a Syrian from Beinit, a former pupil of Dr. Post, 
 whom we had met in Cairo, and who, as the party rode up, 
 recognized me, and shouted my name. Thus hailed, an 
 American is expected "notr to be backward in coming 
 forward," and I responded warmly, inviting them to join 
 our camp, an invitation which they soon accepted. But 
 for the moment they were in full rush, and dashed away 
 like wild Indians, and did not draw rein till they had 
 reached the banks of the Jordan. Here they sat on their 
 horses, all aglow with the excitement of their ride, firing 
 guns, as a sort of naval salute to "Old Jordan," which, 
 descending from its birthplace among the northern hills, 
 here melts into the sea. Having thus let off a little of their 
 
BEDAWEEN RETURNING TO BASHAN. 173 
 
 superfluous spirits, they jogged back slowly, and joined 
 our camp, and we spent a pleasant hour or two together. 
 While sitting here, we had an unexpected sight, in a great 
 company of Bedaween, with two hundi'ed camels, which 
 they had been pasturing among the hills and valleys of 
 Galilee, who were now retui-ning across the Jordan to their 
 own countiy in the land of Bashan. I had seen nothing 
 like it since we left the desert. On they came, big camels 
 and httle camels, with Ai-abs mounted and on foot, alto- 
 gether a host of Mdianites. Seeing us under the tree, 
 they stopped for a brief parley, and were much amazed 
 when the Commander of the Bacchante took up his breech- 
 loader, and putting in the cartridges, loaded and fired in 
 an instant. The Commander we found very agreeable 
 company. The elder Prince is a sort of aid to him, 
 though perhaps an aid chiefly by courtesy. EngHsh 
 officers are generally men of great intelHgence, especially 
 when, as in this case, they have been for a couple of yeai's 
 floating about in all parts of the world, with the best 
 possible opportunities for obtaining information. Our 
 acquaintances proved most agreeable gentlemen, and I am 
 sui-e it would be a pleasure to any of our party to meet 
 again, on either side of the ocean, the officers whom we 
 met that day on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. / 
 
 After our long "nooning," they mounted to depart, 
 while we entered into " the ship," and were rowed a mile 
 or so to the eastward, to the mouth of the Jordan, before 
 we turned westward to Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Caper- 
 naum. The Jordan, where it empties into the lake, is a 
 large stream, flowing with a current almost as strong as 
 that at the Dead Sea. We leaped ashore, and gathered 
 each a handful of the minute shells which are here strown 
 like sand upon the beach. Hardly were we in the boat 
 again before a strong head-wind arose, against which it 
 
174 ROWING AGAINST CONTRARY WINDS. 
 
 was not easy to force our way. The men rowed tard, but 
 progress was slow and difficult. To make it worse, tlie 
 Bedaween wlio had passed us with their camels had stop- 
 ped to take a swim in the lake; and now, seeing our 
 extremity, they turned towards us, at first only a few, but 
 soon after a much larger number, and made a sudden dash 
 for the boat, intending to seize hold of it, and perhaps to 
 climb into it, at any rate not to let go till they were bought 
 off. The rascals thought they had " a sure thing," for that 
 the ladies would be so terrified that we would pay anything 
 to be rid of them. So we might have done had we not had 
 a determined dragoman; but as they were nearing us, 
 Floyd started up with fury in his eye, and anger in his 
 voice, and said if they dared to come near the boat, he 
 would shoot every man of them as he would shoot a dog ! 
 At this the villains turned and swam back to the shore. \ 
 
 Thus we were saved from one danger, but stiU we made 
 little headway, for the wind was contrary. Twice the boat- 
 men cast out the anchor, and said they would not go any 
 further. I am afraid they were treacherous : for this would 
 have compelled us to go on shore, and walk for several 
 miles to our camp, presenting a tempting object to the 
 Bedaween, who were stiU watching us with hungry eyes. 
 When they were in the water, without their guns (for many 
 of them carried guns), they could do nothing ; but had we 
 set foot on land, we should have been helplessly in their 
 power. Floyd saw the danger, and once more his hot tem- 
 per saved us. His imperious manner cowed the boatmen 
 into obedience. After a few minutes, they sullenly lifted 
 the anchor, and again took to their oars. But the wind was 
 too much for their strength. At last the ladies were asked 
 to tui-n their gaze seaward or in the direction of the moun- 
 tains, while a couple of the men, casting off their garments, 
 like Peter of old, plunged into the lake, and swam ashore / 
 
CHORAZTN AND BETH3AIDA. 175 
 
 with a rope in their hands, and getting a " belay " around 
 rocks, pulled with all their might, while those in the boat 
 rowed hard ; and so by the most fatiguing labor, we crept 
 slowly along. Once we gave our men a breathing spell, as 
 we anchored at Tell Hum and went on shore, and wading 
 through the long gi'ass, came upon broken columns lying 
 here and there— the ruins of a city that has passed away, 
 and whose very name is in dispute, some claiming that it 
 was Capernaum itself, while others identif)^ it with Chorazin. 
 Here, as elsewhere round the upper end of the lake, ruins 
 and fields alike are relieved of any sombre appearance by 
 the masses of color thrown in by the great and luxuriant 
 oleanders, which at this season are covered with blossoms. 
 Westward a Httle farther, we passed the ancient Bethsaida, 
 but did not land, as the best which it has to show is its situ- 
 ation, which is seen directly from the water— a valley which, 
 reaching down to the shore, furnished a site for the fishing 
 village which was the home of Peter, Andi'ew, and Philip. 
 It is^a beautiful spot— beautiful even though the viUage or 
 town itself be gone, and only a few wretched huts mark the 
 place where it stood. It has a melancholy interest as being 
 coupled with Chorazin in the prophetic words : "Woe unto 
 thee, Chorazin! woe imto thee, Bethsaida ! ... It shall be 
 more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the judgment than 
 for you."/ 
 
 Up to this point our men had been putting forth all 
 their strength in rowing, but soon after we passed Beth- 
 saida, they unbent from their oars, as we came into a Httle 
 bay which was partly sheltered from the winds, where the 
 water was smooth, so that at last we ghded gently to the 
 shore. The experience of this aft-ernoon, though more wea- 
 risome than dangerous, showed what the lake might be in 
 a storm, when the winds from the mountains come down 
 upon it and lash it into fury. Then it becomes indeed a 
 
176 CAPERNAUM. 
 
 place of danger, that miglit well have justified the terror of 
 the disciples, when they roused their Master from his slum- 
 ber to save them from instant destruction./ 
 
 We landed at Khan Minyeh, and found our tents, which 
 had been sent round by land to meet us, pitched a few 
 rods back from the shore, near a beautiful spring which 
 issued from under high rocks. Here is the traditional site 
 of the ancient Capernaum. I know that its identity has 
 been fiercely disputed ; explorers are divided between 
 Khan Minyeh and Tell Hum. In such cases, where both 
 sides are maintained with an array of learning, the ordina- 
 ry traveller will fall back upon common report, and accept 
 that which has the authority of tradition. Certainly this 
 was worthy to have been the site of a great city. It is on 
 the borders of the Plain of Gennesareth, which furnished 
 ample room on which the city could expand. It is at the 
 head of the lake, in a position favorable to such commerce 
 as there might be upon it, and at the same time to the traffic 
 with the interior : for it was the entrepot of a great over- 
 land trade between Asia and Africa — ^between the valleys 
 of the Tigris and the Euphrates on the one hand, and the 
 valley of the Nile on the other. Caravans of camels cross- 
 ing the desert brought hither the riches of the farthest 
 East. In the grand old Eoman days, this was one of the 
 chief seats of Roman power in Palestine. Here was the 
 residence of the Governor of Galilee. The province was 
 traversed by Roman roads ; the city was watered by Ro- 
 man aqueducts : and Roman soldiers kept guard in its 
 streets. Our camp was at the foot of a cliff, on the top of 
 which is a small plateau, which must have been included 
 within the city. Looking up to this height, it seemed 
 probable that there was an uj^per town and a lower town, 
 and that this elevated plateau was the Acropolis, on which 
 stood the Governor's Palace, and the citadel, and a temple 
 
NO TRACE OF ITS ANCIENT MAGNIFICENCE. 177 
 
 to the gods, or whatever might show forth the Impeiial 
 splendor. Perhaps our Lord had this literal elevation in 
 his eye, as a type of the haughtiness and pride of the city, 
 when he said "And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted to 
 heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell ! " This was not a 
 curse, but a judgment — a solemn declaration by one who 
 saw the end from the beginning, of the inevitable ruin 
 which waits on proud and insolent wickedness. How that 
 word has been accomplished, we see to-day. Of aU that 
 ancient magnificence, not a trace remains. One can hardly 
 imagine how utter is the desolation. In some of these old 
 towns around the lake not a human being is left. Here 
 where once stood a great city, with a multitude throng- 
 ing its streets, every footstep is departed. This plain was 
 once full of busy life ; this lake was animated by boats 
 gliding to and fro. Now there is scarcely a sail upon the 
 water or a footprint on the shore. The night that we 
 camped here, there was a young moon in the sky that just 
 revealed the outlines of the hills, find gleamed faintly on 
 the waters — one of those nights that make us listen for 
 some " floating whisper on the hill " ; but all was silent 
 as the grave. The only sound that we heard all night 
 long, was that of the jackals that made their habitations 
 in the rocks, whose mournful cry at midnight seemed to 
 give voice to the mighty desolation. The woe had been 
 fulfilled./ 
 
CHii>TER XV. 
 
 TO C^SAREA-PHILIPPI AND ROUND MOUNT HERMON, 
 
 /As we broke camp in the morning, and rode up the 
 hill, which I have supposed was the ancient Acropolis, we 
 turned to take one more look at the Sea of Galilee lying at 
 our feet. On the eastern side the hills were still partly in 
 shadow, but the mol^ning light was creeping over them, 
 bringing into view the outline of the sacred shores. Almost 
 every spot within the sweep of the eye was connected with 
 the history of our Lord. Capernaum was his home for the 
 greater part of the three years of his ministry— a period 
 more important than the preceding thirty years, which he 
 spent at Nazareth : for here his life was not one of obscu- 
 rity, but of incessant activity ; his teaching was chiefly on 
 these shores and waters, and now his blessed words seem 
 to float upward from the lake below, while from the Plain 
 of Gennesareth the air, fi'esh with morning dew, comes 
 like the breath of God. In the presence of such a scene, it 
 is almost an impertinence to speak : one is held silent and 
 motionless. For a few moments we sat on our horses, not 
 saying a word, and then turned and silently rode away. / 
 
 As we leave the lake behind, we enter a rough hill- 
 country, which is the character of this portion of Galilee. 
 
NORTHERN GALILEE. 179 
 
 Oui' faces were set towards the North, following a route 
 parallel to the course of the Jordan, although we were not 
 in the valley, nor even within sight of it, as our view was 
 interrupted by the hills, among which we were riding all 
 the forenoon ; and as of course there are no roads, but 
 only bridle-paths, we had to pick our way among the 
 stones. The country seemed deserted of human habita- 
 tions : there were no towns — we did not see even a village. 
 Its appearance was made still more desolate by being with- 
 out trees. While riding among the hills, I did not see a 
 single tree. Whether this be owing to the government 
 tax on trees, or to the wastefulness of the people in cutting 
 for fuel every young tree almost as soon as it shows its 
 head above ground, I know not : I only state the fact, that 
 the landscape was absolutely treeless. But though in this 
 respect it is stripioed and barren as the desert, it is not 
 like the desert in the poorness of its soil or the absence of 
 cultivation : for rough and rocky as is this portion of 
 Northern Galilee, it is neither uninhabited nor unculti- 
 vated. There were men ploughing in the fields, as we had 
 seen them in the South Country when we first entered 
 Palestine. Yet here, as there, the mode of agriculture is 
 veiy poor ; the oxen are small ; the plough is of wood, with 
 an iron point, and only a single handle, as it is g-uided by 
 one hand, while the other holds an ox-goad, with which the 
 poor little beasts are punched and prodded over the rough 
 soil. Still with all these di-awbacks, the country was fairly 
 cultivated, some fields were waving with ripening harvests ; 
 and the people were better-looking, they had lighter com- 
 plexions and more animated features, than those we had 
 seen before, and responded pleasantly to oiu* salaams as we 
 passed. Our knowledge of Ai-abic is not extensive, being 
 confined to half a dozen words ; but what we lack in num- 
 ber, wo make up in reiteration. When we see a dashing 
 
180 THE WATERS OF MEROM. 
 
 'rider apiDroaching, we sit bolt upright in our saddles, and 
 explode " Marliaba ! " at him with a sonorous voice, which 
 at once commands his attention, and evokes from the depth 
 of his bosom a guttural reply. We have not met anybody 
 so churlish as not to return our salutations. Even the 
 Bedaween are not to be outdone in politeness, although in 
 other cii'cumstances they might have considered it in the 
 way of business to rob us if they could. So we jogged up 
 hill and down dale, in a flow of spirits which made us for- 
 get the rough paths under our feet. The mules had a 
 hard time of it, carrying their heavy loads over the hills : 
 but they did not seem to mind it, their bells ringing 
 merrily, in unison with the general cheerfulness. As a 
 reward for our good nature, after a few hours the appear- 
 ance of the country changed from desolateness to fertility. 
 Towards noon we again caught the gleam of waters in the 
 distance. Before us opened a broad and beautiful valley, 
 through which stretched a sheet of water more like a lake 
 than a river — indeed it was both — for we had come back 
 to the Jordan, which here overflows its banks, and spreads 
 out so widely that for a few miles the river is expanded 
 into a lake. We were approaching the famous Waters of 
 Merom, around which is a broad belt of the richest alluvial 
 soil. This is the Plain of the Jordan, which is here nearly 
 as wide as the Plain of Jericho, and much more highly 
 cultivated. / 
 
 The ride of the afternoon was a pleasant contrast to 
 that of the morning, as we came down out of the hills, and 
 entered this broad and fertile plain. The sight of water is 
 grateful to the eye after passing over a rugged country, 
 and still more so when it is bordered with fertile pastures 
 that reach back to the foot of the hills. We found the 
 valley ver\^ populous, although its population is an uncer- 
 tain and migratory one. The Plain of the Jordan is one 
 
THE PLAIN OF THE JORDAN. 181 
 
 great pasture-ground of the Bedaween. How it comes to 
 be so is quite apparent from its geography. The moun- 
 tains, which form a natural barrier on the lower Jordan, 
 here sink down so that there is nothing to keep out the 
 Ishmaelites, to whom no land is sacred from invasion. 
 They come over in vast numbers fi'om their homes among 
 the hills of Bashan, bringing their flocks and herds with 
 them, and camp for a few months till they have eaten up 
 the pasturage. They live in huts, or in tents, made, as on 
 the desert, of the hair of the black goats — a custom inher- 
 ited from patriarchal times, as we read in the Bible of 
 "the black tents of Eedar." The cloth woven from this 
 material is very strong. We saw some Arabs moving their 
 camp, and from the number of men it took to carry one of 
 these tent covers, it seemed as if it must be as heavy as the 
 thickest canvas used for the sails of ships. Of course it is 
 very durable, as it must be to withstand the variations of 
 heat and cold, and the early and latter rains, which some- 
 times come down in floods. Half a dozen of these broad 
 tents will make an Arab village ; and when pitched, as 
 they often are, on the sides of the hills, they are very pic- 
 turesque. The Plain of the Jordan gave us the most 
 pleasant side of Arab life that we saw anywhere. The 
 people are engaged in peaceful occupations ; they are 
 shepherds, and there is always something poetical in a 
 pastoral life. A shepherd tending his flock of sheep is a 
 pleasing figure in a landscape ; even the bufi'aloes wallow- 
 ing in the shallow waters, among the reeds and rushes, 
 attract the eye as a picture of lazy life, which transjioiis 
 one's thoughts to the interior of Africa. Our road, while 
 leading through the plain, yet kept at a distance fi'om 
 the water, as the nearer ground is often wet and marshy ; 
 and as we rode along under the shadow of the hiUs, 
 several times this afternoon, we heard a shepherd's boyy 
 
182 A SCENE IN ATICADIA. 
 
 placing on a reed pipe, to call his sheep. With this 
 pastoral music in our ears, we pitched our tents on the 
 bank of one of the tributary streams of the Jordan, in 
 lull view of Mount Hermon. Never did tired travel- 
 lers camp in a loveher spot. We had had a long and 
 weary day's march, and the rest was very grateful. The 
 people gathered about us with curiosity to see the 
 strangers, but not in an unfriendly way ; though Floyd 
 cautioned us not to let them presume on any famiUarity, 
 saying rather brusquely " If we make friends with them, 
 they will swarm down upon us and clean us out." We 
 observed that, mild-mannered as they seemed, they all 
 carried long-handled spears, which might come into instant 
 use on a very slight provocation. But as long as they let 
 us alone, and kept at a safe distance, we could look on and 
 see how they enjoyed themselves, with no uncomfortable 
 drawbacks. It was pleasant to see them light-hearted and 
 happy ; and when, in the morning, just before we mounted 
 oui' horses, the men and women of an Arab camp formed 
 a ring on the green sward, and executed a rustic dance 
 before setting out for the flocks which they were to watch 
 thi'ough the day, it was a sight to make a traveller think 
 he had suddenly lighted on a scene in Arcadia. In these 
 ouidoor exhibitions Arab life is seen at its best. One 
 must not penetrate too far into the interior. The \illages 
 are not Arcadian. As we resumed our march, and after a 
 long ride up the Plain of the Jordan, passed round the 
 head of the Waters of Merom, our route led through a 
 village of huts made of a kind of matting woven of the 
 reeds which grow on the borders of the lake, and hung on 
 cross poles, not unlike those I had seen in India and 
 Burmah. They were wretched habitations, but swarming 
 with life. It was plain that there was no danger of the 
 race dying out. As we rode through the long, narrow 
 
THE SPRINGS OF THE JORDAN. 183 
 
 path between these miserable dwellings, men, women, and 
 children rushed to the doors to see us pass. Every little 
 hand was stretched out for something. "Backsheesh! 
 backsheesh ! " was the cry ; and as if even this were too 
 much for children*s throats, the word was shortened into 
 " 'sheesh," which was hissed from hundreds of httle voices. 
 It seemed as if the very dogs yelped backsheesh. / 
 
 When we turned away from the Waters of Merom, we 
 had " passed over Jordan/' and were in the enemy's coun- 
 tr}^, or what might have been so had We been near the 
 Dead Sea. But though we had crossed the river, we were 
 still among its springs, which we were following up to 
 their source in the sides of Hermon. The country gradu- 
 ally ascends, leading us upward. Part of our way we 
 followed the track of an old Boman road, and crossed one 
 of the principal affluents of the Jordan by a bridge whose 
 massive arch still shows the work of Eoman hands. 
 Wherever we come upon the footsteps of these ancient 
 masters of the world, they are marked by roads and 
 bridges— the signs of their civilization and the instru- 
 ments of their power. "All roads lead to Bome." So it 
 was meant to be, not only in Italy and Gaul and Spain, 
 but even in remote provinces, where easy means of com- 
 munication drew towards Bome the most distant parts of 
 the mighty empu*e. Continuing our course, we came to 
 Dan, the spot to which Abraham pursued the Amorites 
 who had captured Lot. This is the limit of the Land of 
 Canaan, which is defined as reaching " from Dan to Beer- 
 sheba." Its northern boundary was not a mountain, but a 
 river, or rather a fountain— the chief of the headsprings of 
 the Jordan. Here we came upon a scene as pleasing as it 
 was unexpected — a party of natives returning fi'om Tibe- 
 rias, where they had been to bathe in the hot springs. 
 They were all in gay attire, like Italian or Spanish peas- 
 
184 BANIAS OR C^SAREA-PHILIPPI. 
 
 ants decked out for afesta. A pretty company of pilgrims 
 truly ! The bright-eyed Syrian girls were in their " Sun- 
 day's best/' and resting under some large oaks which 
 shaded the fountain. So charming was the picture they 
 made in their gay dresses, sitting under the trees, that we 
 felt ahnost guilty to disturb them, though the bridle-path 
 led thi'ough the group ; but we made the best apology we 
 could, by touching our caps and bowing very low, as we 
 rode through the stream, and up the bank, and under the 
 oaks. It was a pleasant relief to the squalid misery of 
 which one sees so much in Palestine, to come uj)on such a 
 scene of innocent festivity. / 
 
 Another hour's ride brought us to Banias, where we 
 halted at noon, not in a clump of trees, but in a large and 
 stately grove, the very air of which was made musical by 
 the sound of streams, which were bubbling and dashing 
 around us. It reminded me a little of Tivoli, though the 
 waters do not pour from any " headlong height,'^ but rush 
 upward from the bowels of the earth. Here is another 
 source of the Jordan, which issues from a cave, as the 
 Ganges flows out from under a glacier of the Himalayas. 
 These sparkling blue waters look as if they came out of a 
 region of icy cold. The spot is one of great natural 
 beauty, with its mingled woods and rocks and streams. 
 In the days of the old mythology, such nooks and dells 
 were haunted. There were sylvan and woodland deities — ■ 
 gods of the woods and streams ; and we are not surprised 
 to find the cliffs above this fountain of the Jordan carved 
 into shrjnes. / 
 
 Banias is also a place of historical interest, from the 
 many traces which it has of Eoman occupation. Situated 
 at the head of the Jordan valley, it marks a natural divis- 
 ion of the country. Here we leave Palestine and enter 
 Syria. Its position also, at the foot of Mount Hermon, 
 
BANIAS OR CJESAREA-PHILIPPI. 185 
 
 which of itseK forms the strongest defence in its rear, is a 
 military one, as it holds the key to the province of Gali- 
 lee. Accordingly it was fortified by the Eomans, and a 
 town rose on this spot which, in honor of the Emperor and 
 of the Governor, received the double name of Csesarea- 
 Philijipi. All this region bears marks of the Roman rule. 
 Scattered along the road from Dan to Banias, on every 
 commanding point, are blocks of stone carefully di-essed, 
 and some of them even carved, the work of Roman hands. 
 What remain and are above ground, are probably not a 
 hundredth part of what He bui'ied in the earth, or what 
 have been dug up and carried away : for these ruins have 
 been the spoil of sixty generations. To this day the peo- 
 ple use them for building. Even as we passed, we saw 
 a party digging up the stones and carrying them off 
 on camels. This seems almost like sacrilege, but can we 
 blame the poor inhabitants of this region, when even the 
 Coliseum of Rome has been despoiled to build its modem 
 palaces ? 
 
 Csesarea-Philippi is also an important site in the Gos- 
 pel history : for it is the most noi-thern point visited by 
 our Lord. Here he spent six months in the last year of 
 his ministry. Not far from this spot, some lower shoulder 
 of Hermon is supposed to be the Mount which was the 
 scene of the Transfiguration. / 
 
 After resting a couple of hours in the grove at Banias, 
 we mounted and took our way through the \illage, where 
 one may see here and there fallen columns, and the ruins 
 of old Roman arches ; and then began to climb the hills, 
 which at first were covered with ohve orchards, but soon 
 grew more bleak and bare. On the top of one is a i-uined 
 castle, whose enormous size and strength reminded me of 
 the Castle of Heidelberg, although it is of vastly gi'eater 
 antiquity than any castle on the Rhine or the Neckar, the 
 
186 ON THE SIDE OF HERMON. 
 
 mode of dressing its stones showing that its massive foun- 
 dations were laid by the Phoenicians. It commands one 
 of the most extensive views in Palestine. These mountain 
 fortresses are a striking feature of the country. While 
 looking with amazement at these mighty walls, we turned 
 westward, and saw in the distance another castle, which 
 seemed to be the counterpart of this, although of more 
 recent date : for it is the Chateau Neuf of the Crusaders, 
 standing on the crest of a mountain, relieved against the 
 glowing western sky. That mountain, like Marathon, 
 "looks on the sea," and its castle frowns on Tyre and 
 Sidon and the Mediterranean coast. Thus are two periods 
 of history and two civilizations — distant not only from us, 
 but from each other — brought " eye to eye," as Phoenicians 
 and Crusaders signal to each other fi'om mountain top to 
 mountain top, across an abyss not only of centuries, but of 
 millenniums. / 
 
 We were now on the side of the lordly Hermon, and 
 went slowly climbing upward into the higher altitudes and 
 the sharper air. The evening found us at an elevation of 
 some thousands of feet. The change of temperature was 
 very great from that of the Jordan valley, where only last 
 night we found it extremely warm, while here to-night it 
 is bitter cold. We are camped in a little mountain valley, 
 which might easily be imagined to be among the Alps. 
 It is a cheerless spot : there is not a tree in sight ; only 
 dreary rocks, and patches of snow are still lying on the 
 heights around us. And yet it is not without its pleasing 
 features, in the flocks of sheep in the mountain pastures. 
 Near us is a little Alpine village, nestled in the side of the 
 mountain, under which it seems to be seeking shelter. 
 The houses furnish a better protection than the tents of 
 the Bedaween, or even their mat-covered huts. They have 
 to be of a different material, to be habitable : for in Winter 
 
AN ALPINE VILLAGE. 187 
 
 these mountain valleys are buried deep in snow. Though 
 plain and of but one story, the houses are of stone, and 
 being backed against the mountain, which shelters them 
 from the winds, they may be kept at a temperature at 
 which life can be preserved. The people are Druses — a 
 Moslem sect chiefly known to the world by their war with 
 the Maronites in 1860, in which they committed frightful 
 massacres. Notwithstanding theu' reputation, we found 
 them very decent-looking mountaineers. They thronged 
 around our tents to sell eggs and chickens, and appeared 
 quite fiiendly, but we did not think it wise on that account 
 to intermit our customary precaution of sending to the 
 sheikh for a guard. Thus in our guarded tents, wrapj)ing 
 our coverlids and garments about us to keep out the moun- 
 tain winds, we lay down to tranquil slumber. / 
 
 But a keen and fi-osty air is a wonderful quickener of 
 Hfe at the breaking of the day. Travellers must needs stir 
 about to set the blood tingling in theu' veins. And so, 
 with all the picturesqueness of its scenery, we were not 
 unwiUing to leave our Alpine home. We were early in the 
 saddle, making long strides down the mountain. Again 
 we had hills upon hills, and rocks upon rocks, among 
 which crags of basalt began to crop out of the limestone, 
 over which we plodded on patiently as we could, when 
 suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, there burst upon us a 
 vision of Paradise. We had been toihng along the moun- 
 tain side, when a point of the road brought us in sight of a 
 region of boundless fei-tility. We were looking down upon 
 the gi'eat Plain of Damascus, beyond which rose on the 
 eastern horizon the black basaltic hills and mountains of 
 the Hauran. As if to make the contrast more complete, 
 an hour or two later, as we swept round the mountain, 
 there rose on our left, above inteiwening summits which 
 had hid his face, the snow^^ head of Hermon, not standing 
 
188 CAMP IN SIGHT OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 alone, but the highest peak in the long range of the Anti- 
 Lebanon. Thus one glance took in the region of eternal 
 snow and the region of sunshine and flowers. / 
 
 But it is one thing to have a vision of Paradise, and 
 another to enter into it. It was a long and weary ride 
 down the mountain. The winds from the heights above 
 us were cold and chiU, and made us shrink and shiver on 
 our horses ; nor could we quite forget the piercing blast, 
 even when late in the afternoon we caught sight of the 
 great Mosque of Damascus. At last, at six o'clock, we 
 reached the place for our camp, a little outside of the town 
 of Katana, beside a clear rushing stream, a branch of the 
 Pharj)ar. Here, though within four hours of Damascus, 
 we pitched oui' tents, not only for the night, but for the 
 following day : for once more the Sabbath had come. 
 How delicious is it for tired pilgrims to awake one morn- 
 ing in the week, and not be obliged to move ! To lie and 
 think of fatigues and perils all past, with no sense of fatigue 
 or peril near, is one of the exquisite pleasures of the trav- 
 eller. Our men were long in " coming to." At last they 
 rubbed their eyes, and " limbered up " sufficiently to get 
 breakfast, after which they went to sleep again. It was 
 good to see them sink into such profound slumber — a 
 slumber which fell alike on man and beast. The mules 
 were stretched on the grass, while the muleteers were 
 leaning against the tent-poles in a state of absolute for- 
 getfulness, sleeping like the Seven Sleepers. It was a 
 camp of the dead. / 
 
 But in one tent there was wakefulness and watchful- 
 ness, and had been all night long, for there was great 
 anxiety. One of our party was ill. Mrs. Adams, who is 
 very slight of figure, and apparently incapable of much 
 endurance, had borne aU the fatigues of the march from 
 Jerusalem, riding on horseback, facing the wind and the 
 
A HAY OF REST. 189 
 
 storm, and keeping np with any of us. But this ride over 
 Moimt Hermon was " the last straw " ; and when we reached 
 camp, she crept off her horse utterly exhanisted. For a few 
 hours we Avere in sore apprehension. Fortunately I re- 
 called the name of a pupil of Dr. Post at Beirut, who is 
 now the leading physician of Damascus, and a messenger 
 was sent for him, and at three o'clock he came riding into 
 camp. His judicious treatment, and the best of all medi- 
 cine — a Sabbath day's rest — soon checked the alarming 
 features of the case, and we were made unspeakably happy 
 at the reHef fi'om a great anxiety. / 
 
 With the feehng of relief there came a fuller enjoyment 
 of the day of rest. Our messenger had brought back fi'om 
 Damascus letters which had been forwarded fi'om Beirut, 
 so that in oui' tents under the shadow of Mount Hermon, 
 we were not far from home ; at the same moment we were 
 grateful for the recovery of a friend at our side, and for 
 the safety of the dear ones far away. These minofled 
 causes of gratitude glided into our hearts that still Sab- 
 bath afternoon. When we are thus grateful and happy, 
 all things in nature seem to be in harmony with our 
 spirits. The stream that ran before om' tents sang to us 
 of home — of our own dear New England, that land of 
 mountain streams. On the other side of it was an enclos- 
 ure filled with trees — at once an orchard and a garden— 
 and it seemed as if we were smelling the apple blossoms ; 
 while the mighty dome above us, rising into the clouds, 
 pointed upwards to the soui'ce of all good, fi'om which all 
 blessings descend, " as the dew of Hermon, and as the dew 
 that descended upon the mountains of Zion, for there the 
 Lord commanded the blessing, even hfe forevermore."/ 
 
CHAPTEK XVI. 
 
 THE CITY OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 \ In approaching Damascus, one has in some degree the 
 same feeling of wondering expectation, not nnmingled 
 with awe, as in approaching Jerusalem. It is (or claims 
 to be) the oldest city in the world ; at any rate its history 
 reaches far back into the twilight of antiquity. It is the 
 real, if not the nominal, capital of Islam, from which 
 marched the armies of Saladin, as still march the pil- 
 grims to Mecca ; and it is said to be the most purely 
 Oriental of cities. These things put us in a high state of 
 expectation, as we mounted our horses to make our entry 
 into Damascus. In one respect our mode of travel was 
 changed : we had a road. We had left our rough moun- 
 tain paths, and come down into the plain, and for the first 
 time since we left Egj^pt had a highway over which a car- 
 riage could be driven. This was all-important for the one 
 who most occupied our thoughts. A carriage had been 
 sent out from Damascus by which our dear invalid was 
 taken into the city with safety and comfort. Our riding 
 party was farther reduced by the absence of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Winter, who had left us on Sunday morning, he on horse- 
 back, and she in her i)alanquin. The rest of us were 
 
JOHN Gilpin's ride. 191 
 
 mounted as usual, and the broad road enabled us to ride 
 abreast, instead of following one another in single file, as 
 we had done in the bridle-paths over the hills. An extra 
 horse in the company gave an opportunity for an extra 
 rider. Among our servants was a fellow called Scander 
 (short for Alexander), who by his good humor and merri- 
 ment was the amusement of the whole party. He did not 
 always have a chance to ride, but this morning, as there 
 was an empty saddle, he wished to display his horseman- 
 ship, and boldly challenged Weeden, who was our champion 
 rider, to a race, and even offered to wager a Turkish dollar 
 on winning it, which he put into the hands of a clergyman 
 of our party (I will not mention his name ; it was not Dr. 
 Adams) to hold the stakes. So the coui'sers drew up, and 
 we had John Gilpin's ride over again. Poor Scander, with 
 his kefi&yeh and his baggy trousers, looked like a bag of 
 meal tossed on the horse's back, and as his legs spread far 
 apart in the heat of the race, he "went flying all abroad." 
 But Weeden, much better mounted, took the long strides, 
 and easily came in ahead ; and then, with the dig-nity of a 
 conqueror, magnanimously declined to receive the wager 
 he had won. So ended the race, as all races ought to end, 
 in leaving the parties as before. It was a harmless frolic, 
 which left no bad blood behind it, but only both riders in 
 a glow of mddy health, and the rest of the party in a gale 
 of laughter.\ 
 
 After our fast riders had thus let off their spirits, we 
 all jogged on quietly, observing the featui-es of the coun- 
 try. The Plain of Damascus is like the VaUey of the Nile, 
 blossoming out of the deseri, quickened by the same cause, 
 a life-giving river. What the Nile is to Cairo, the Abana is 
 to Damascus. Bui'sting from a pass in the mountains, it 
 flows through the plain, converiing into a garden what 
 were otherwise a steiile waste. All this fertility has been 
 
192 THE APPROACH TO DAMASCUS. 
 
 brought into being by the magic touch of the waters : 
 where they cannot reach, the desert remains. On our left 
 was a range of hills as barren as any we had seen in the 
 march to Sinai ; while on our right was a country as rich 
 as the Delta of Egypt. As we approached the city, the 
 whole environs seemed to be embowered in shade. The 
 effect was the greater because of a sudden gathering of 
 clouds, which darkened not only the sky, but the earth 
 below, and gave a deeper and richer hue to this mass of 
 tropical vegetation. As we entered the outskirts of the 
 city, we rode through what seemed more like the gTeen 
 country lanes of England than city streets. There are 
 miles of gardens, or rather of orchards, surrounding the 
 city on every side. The apricot and the pomegTanate were 
 in blossom. Olives were in great abundance, interspersed 
 with walnuts ; and groves of poplar, which is a favorite 
 wood. We think it a soft wood, but they find it hardy 
 (perhaps it is a different species), and as it grows rapidly, 
 it serves their purpose better than any other tree, and 
 whole forests of it are grown for timber./ 
 
 I was disappointed in the situation of Damascus. I had 
 thought it lay in a deep valley ; but it lies in a plain, 
 although at the foot of mountains, from which it has 
 the appearance of a broad valley. The traveller who 
 approaches it from the west will get his first sight of it 
 from the range of Anti-Lebanon, and as he looks down 
 upon it the view is much more imposing than if he 
 approached from the plain. A day or two after our 
 arrival, we rode out of the city, and ascended the hills on 
 the west to get this view. It was late in the afternoon, 
 and the sun was sinking behind the mountains, and threw 
 his last rays across the plain below, gilding the domes and 
 minarets of the great city. Here we could understand how 
 Mahomet, standing, according to the tradition, near this 
 
DIMITRI'S CASTLE. 193 
 
 very spot, should gaze and turn away, saying that God had 
 promised to man but one Paradise, and he would not, by 
 entering this on earth, endanger the loss of that in heaven. 
 
 But we are now riding into the city, under the shade 
 of trees, by garden walls, and along the borders of 
 streams, which at every step remind us of what has cre- 
 ated all this Paradise : it is water bubbling up in foun- 
 tains, and flowing in rivers, giving perpetual freshness to 
 trees and grass and flowers, so that the city is literally set 
 in a sea of verdure. / 
 
 Thus riding on through a succession of streets, we 
 come to a gate which might be that of a fortress or a 
 prison, so massive is it with wood and iron, nailed to- 
 gether with heavy spikes. In this grim portal is an 
 opening a foot or two above the gTound, and some four 
 feet square, through which an outsider can gain admit- 
 tance only by stooping. The gate was evidently contrived 
 in view of possible dangers, when it might be necessary 
 to barricade the entrance, and convei-t the interior into 
 a foi-tress. We bent our heads, like captives passing 
 under the yoke, and Hfting our feet over the barrier 
 below, found ourselves in the outer court of Dimitri's 
 Hotel, the famous hosteky of Damascus. It was evidently 
 a composite structure, made up of several different houses. 
 To reach my room, I not only mounted a staircase, but 
 passed along a corridor and over a roof into another house, 
 which had been added to furnish more space for guests. 
 It was the house of a Moslem : for the room was furnished 
 with the lattices to the window always di'awn around the 
 hareem, through wliich the inmates can look without being 
 seen. Thus put together piecemeal, the hotel is a ram- 
 bling old barrack, but still pleasant enough inside, when 
 one is in its open coui-t, listening to the gentle plash of 
 its fountain, and inhaling the fragrance of its orange trees. 
 
194 RAMBLE THROUGH THE CITY. 
 
 But sweeter ihan orange blossoms or miirmuring foun- 
 tain, is the face of a friend. I did not know a soul in 
 Damascus, and yet I liad not been in that coui^t five 
 minutes before I heard my name from the lips of a 
 stranger. A stranger, and yet not a stranger : for he was 
 an American and a missionary — Rev, Mr. Crawford, who 
 gave me a warm grasp of the hand. The sense of loneli- 
 ness was gone. From that moment, during our stay in 
 Damascus, he devoted himself to our comfoi^t. After 
 taking me to the postoffice and the telegraph office (which 
 are always the first calls to be made in a strange city), he 
 kindly offered to help us through the serious business of a 
 traveller, and under his lead Dr. Adams and myself set out 
 the same afternoon on a tour of exploration. There is no 
 city in the world where one needs a guide more than in 
 Damascus : for its arrangement of streets is so intricate 
 and involved, with so many twists and turns, winding 
 about here and there in lanes and labyrinths, that a 
 stranger would be hopelessly lost. Like most travellers, 
 we tried to " get our bearings," and form some idea of the 
 geograjDhy of the city by going fii'st to " the street called 
 Straight," which we found to be very crooked ; yet it is not 
 difficult to reconcile its present appearance with its early 
 name. At the beginning it was indeed a broad avenue a 
 mile long, running quite through the city, from the eastern 
 to the western gate, and lined with columns through its 
 whole extent. But in time the habits of Eastern peojole 
 encroached on one side and the other ; it was crowded 
 upon by shops till the street thus invaded on both sides 
 was squeezed into a very small space ; and as the projec- 
 tions were by no means kept in a straight line, it has come 
 to be as full of nooks and angles and corners as any street 
 in the oldest quarter of London or Paris. / 
 
 Of splendid architecture Damascus has none. By those 
 
NO SPLENDID ARCHITECTURE. 195 
 
 who receive their impressions of Oriental cities fi'om the 
 Tales of the Arabian Nights, it is sometimes confounded 
 with the capital of the magnificent Haroun al Easchid, and 
 looked upon as a city of " pleasures and palaces " — a gor- 
 geous Oriental dream. It is a dream, and only a dream — a 
 mirage of the desert, which fades away as we approach it. 
 In aU Damascus I did not see a single specimen of fine 
 Saracenic architecture, of that aiiy lightness and grace 
 which one may see in the mosques of Cairo or Constan- 
 tinople, in the Alhambra of Spain, or the mausoleums and 
 palaces of the Great Mogul in Agi'a and DeUii. The 
 Great Mosque is indeed venerable for its antiquity, and 
 imposing from its vastness, as it rises above the wide 
 stretch of flat roofs, which we looked down upon from 
 the top of its tallest minaret ; and the Citadel shows its 
 front of battered walls, huge and grim; but such struc- 
 tures do not make a city beautiful. There are a few showy 
 houses of rich Jews, to which the stranger is taken, where 
 one finds always the same general construction — an inte- 
 rior court, paved with marble, surrounded by monoto- 
 nous square rooms, lined with luxurious divans, on which 
 the master can recline in the heat of the day, and smoke 
 his narghileh, soothed by the murmur of the fountain in 
 the court. But these are in fact, if not in name, mere 
 Summer-houses; there is no provision for the rigor of 
 Winter, no open fire to blaze when the winds howl and the 
 snows fall on the heights of Lebanon, nor any of those 
 comforts which are to be found in the homes of England 
 and of America./ 
 
 But if we do not find magnificence, we may at least find 
 that which is curious and quaint and old, and so we plunge 
 again into the wilderness of streets, winding and wandering 
 for hours, tiU we lose aU the points of the compass, and are as 
 much at sea as if we had been in the middle of the Atlantic 
 
196 AN INDESCRIBABLE CITY. 
 
 Ocean. We are in a state in wliich we have conformed 
 Literally to the patriotic injunction given to Americans — ^to 
 " know no North, no South, no East, no West." How then 
 can I describe Damascus? How describe the indescrib- 
 able? How give shape to that which shape hath none? 
 How give a clear and intelligible outline of that which has 
 been put together after no plan or architectural design ; 
 which has no centre from which its streets radiate, no 
 squares or circles or crescents ? But there is nothing like 
 the conceit of a traveller. After the first day, when I had 
 one or two points fixed in mind, I thought I could make my 
 way alone ; and coming back by ]Mi\ Crawford's house, was 
 about to take my leave to return to the hotel. He offered 
 to send his son with me, but I dechned, thinking it was not 
 necessary, and that I could find my way through the 
 streets. " Try it," he said with a smile ; but he knew too 
 well to let me try it, and insisted on sending a guide, who 
 led me by the shortest cut, but yet by such winding streets 
 that before we reached Dimitri's, I was as much lost as if I 
 had been in an African forest. / 
 
 This bewilderment is apt to confuse a stranger, so that 
 his first impression of Damascus is not one of enchant- 
 ment. But after a day or two, he finds something fascinat- 
 ing in the musty old city, where even darkness and dirt 
 are reHeved by glimpses of color which light up the gloom 
 of its decay. There is an endless picturesqueness in the 
 costumes of the people, in their snowy turbans and flowing 
 robes, beside which an American in his sober suit of black 
 looks like an undertaker. The little narrow streets are full 
 of life and activity. The sound of the artificers is heard 
 under the long arcades. The workers in brass are here, 
 whose curiously-wrought shields or trays remind me of 
 those of Benares. Travellers of a military turn may grat- 
 ify their tastes with Damascus blades or suits of old armor. 
 
THE BAZAARS OF DAMASCUS. 197 
 
 Those wlio have become so Oriental in their habits as to 
 pass much of hfe in smoking, will find richlT-jewelled jiipes 
 with amber mouthpieces ; while the ladies of a party are 
 sure to be attracted by the many-colored silks. Altogether 
 the bazaars of Damascus are as fascinating as those of 
 Cairo or Constantinople, and over one and all might be 
 written : " Whoso would shun temptation, let him not 
 enter here ! " I thought I showed a Koman firmness in 
 resisting the wiles of the adversary ; but when I was lured 
 into the old khans, where Persian rugs are unrolled to the 
 eye of the Western barbarian, my resolution gave way. 
 Six years before I had bought nine rugs in Cairo, which I 
 carried across the Atlantic as the spoils of Egypt ; and 
 now to make it even, I had to take an equal number from 
 Damascus. To be sure, I might have bought the same in 
 New York ; but there was a certain satisfaction not only in 
 having them from the East, but in buying them in the 
 East, and in being able to trace them back to where they 
 were made, in the far interior of Turkistan. Think of the 
 pleasure of having under one's writing-table, as a rest for his 
 feet, a rug that has been woven in Khorassan, and brought 
 on the back of a camel across the desert from Bagdad ! / 
 
 Of historical associations no Oriental city has more 
 than Damascus. It boasts of being the oldest city in the 
 world. Indeed, to make a " clean business " of the matter, 
 it points to the red soil of this Plain as the very dust of 
 the earth of which Adam was created! Leaving the 
 Damascenes to amuse themselves with such fancies, we 
 find the city spoken of in the Scriptures as early as the 
 time of Abraham, " the steward of whose house was Ehezer 
 of Damascus." Among the locaUties sacred alike to Jews, 
 Moslems, and Chi'istians, is the place where stood the house 
 of Naaman, now fitly occupied by a hospital for lepers, 
 since "he was a leper."/ 
 
198 DAMASCUS ONCE A CHRISTIAN CITY. 
 
 To the Christian visitor Damascus has a special interest 
 from its connection with the conversion of St. Paul. That 
 his conversion took place at Damascus, is unquestioned ; 
 but that is not sufficient for devout believers : they must 
 identify every locality with a mathematical precision. As 
 we approached the city, we passed a church and convent 
 which are said to mark the very spot where the Apostle 
 was struck down by hght from heaven, and heard a voice 
 asking "Why persecutest thou me?" Within the city, 
 Mr. Crawford took us to the house of Ananias, the scene of 
 Paul's conversion. All that remains of the house is the cel- 
 lar, in which is an altar, at which those who are overcome by 
 the association can kneel and say their prayers. Outside 
 of the walls the jDlace is shown where the fugitive was let 
 down in a basket. / 
 
 Damascus was for centuries a Christian city. The Great 
 Mosque, hke that of St. Sophia in Constantinople, was orig- 
 inally a Christian church. But time brought revolution. 
 The scholar who studies the history of Christianity in the 
 East, is sometimes tempted to ask whether it was for the 
 corruption of the Eastern churches that a voice was at last 
 heard in the holy place, as in the Temple before the 
 destruction of Jerusalem, saying. Let us go hence? At 
 last the spoiler came. But the impoi-tance of Damascus 
 was in one way increased by the Mohammedan conquest, 
 as it became the residence of the Caliphs ; although it re- 
 tained the CaHphate less than a century — from 673 to 762 — 
 when it was removed to Bagdad. But Damascus contin- 
 ued a great seat of Moslem power. Somewhat of the feel- 
 ing of awe that one has at the tomb of Napoleon or of 
 Frederick the Great, one has at the tomb of Saladin, the 
 worthy antagonist of Cceur de Lion. Here in Damascus 
 they keep his dust, in a mausoleum close by the Great 
 Mosque, as England keeps the ashes of Wellington and of 
 
MOSLEM FANATICISM. 199 
 
 Nelson under the dome of St. Paul's. No wonder that his 
 tomb is a shrine for the faithful, as it was his mailed hand 
 that finally struck down the Crusaders, and gave to Islam 
 the undisputed mastery of the East for more than a thou- 
 sand years. Now that his name has ceased to be the terror 
 of Christendom, we can do justice to his memory. He was 
 not only a great military chieftain, but a great ruler — at 
 home in affairs of state as at the head of his army ; with a 
 strong sense of justice, which restrained the fanaticism of 
 his soldiers, and led him, when a conqueror, to treat his 
 enemies with chivalrous magnanimity. / 
 
 In later centuiies the importance of Damascus has 
 diminished. After the conquest of Constantinople, the 
 Caliphate was removed far fi^om both Damascus and Bag- 
 dad, to the shores of the Bosphoi-us. But still Damascus re- 
 mains one of the centres of Islam, where the Moslem spirit 
 survives in its intensity. It is a furnace of Moslem fanat- 
 icism, of which it gave a terrible exhibition less than a 
 quarter of a century ago. In the year 1860 its popu- 
 lation were greatly excited by the murderous conflict in 
 the Lebanon between the Druses and the Maronites — an 
 excitement which rose to such a pitch that it broke out 
 in one of the bloodiest massacres of modern times. For 
 three days the city was given up to mui'der, and no less . 
 than twenty-five hundred Christians, chiefly heads of fami- 
 lies, were slain in cold blood ! / 
 
 !Mi\ Crawford took us to see a venerable old man, who 
 still bears the marks of sword cuts on his face, and who 
 escaped almost by a miracle. Dr. Meshaka (father of the 
 young physician whose skill we had tried) was a quarter of 
 a centuiy ago one of the most eminent of the Chiistians of 
 Damascus, and hence was singled out as one of the fii'st 
 objects of attack ; but though wounded, he was not killed, 
 but thrown into prison, apparently to be reserved, as a 
 
200 THE MASSACRE OF 1860. 
 
 distinguished victim, for a more deliberate doom. From 
 this terrible fate he was saved only by the intrepidity of 
 Abdel Kader, who has for many years resided in Damas- 
 cus. These two men, though one a Christian and the 
 other a Moslem, had yet been attracted to each other by a 
 certain nobleness in both, and had been fast friends ; and 
 when the rumor came — or it may have been only a sus- 
 picion, a fear or presentiment — that his fi'iend was in peril, 
 he flew to the rescue. Hastening to the authorities, he 
 demanded to know where he was. They denied that he 
 was in their power. But they were dealing with one 
 whom they could not deceive. The old lion rose with a 
 fury that could not be resisted. That imperious tem- 
 per, which gave him such power over the tribes of the 
 desei-t, cowed the assassins of Damascus, and they revealed 
 the secret of the place of confinement, and conducted him 
 to it, opened the doors, and Abdel Kader fell into the 
 arms of his friend, whom he at once took under his own 
 protection, and conducted to a place of safety. Seldom 
 has history recorded a more touching instance of fidelity 
 in friendship between men of difi'erent races and different 
 rehgions. Nothing was ever told of Abdel Kader more to 
 his honor. And now the venerable old man whom he 
 saved from massacre, we saw in the midst of his family, in 
 safety and in peace. We found him reading his Bible ; he 
 asked Mr. Crawford about the meaning of certain pas- 
 sages. He had passed the limit of four-score (he was 
 eighty-four years of age), and was waiting, like an old 
 saint, till his change should come. ( 
 
 This massacre would have ended in the extermination 
 of the Christian population of Damascus, had not the 
 Turkish authorities, who were supposed to have encour- 
 aged the first outbreak, become alarmed, and found it 
 necessary to put a stop to the shedding of blood; and 
 
THE MASSACJIE AVENGED. 201 
 
 after the slaughter had continued three days, they took 
 families that had been decimated into the castle for pro- 
 tection. Here Mr. Crawford saw fifteen thousand poor 
 creatiu-es, in terror lest the gates should be thrown open 
 and they be given into the hands of miu'derers, as had 
 been done at Der-el-Kamar, where the Christian population 
 was fii'st disarmed by the Turks, and then left unprotected 
 to the fuiy of the Druses, by whom twelve hundred were 
 inhumanly massacred ! / 
 
 This tenible outrage was not unavenged. It sent a 
 thi'ill of horror throughout Europe, and French troops were 
 speedily landed in Beirut. This stirred the Turkish author- 
 ities to do something, if they would not have the work of 
 punishment taken out of theu' hands. One morning, as IVIr. 
 Crawford came into the streets of Damascus, he saw eight 
 of the ringleaders hanging from the projecting beams of 
 as many houses. Sixty-five were hanged that day, while a 
 hundred and ten belonging to the army were shot, among 
 whom was the Pasha of the city. By such prompt justice 
 an end was put to these bloody scenes ; but the passion 
 and fuiy were only checked, not destroyed : the fire is still 
 smouldering in the ashes, ready to break out again with 
 any fresh excitement. In the late war in Egypt there was 
 a restless feeling among the population of Damascus, which 
 was apparent to the eye of every foreigner. The Chidstians 
 felt that they were again in danger — a danger that was 
 averted only by the EngUsh victory at Tel-el-Kebk, and 
 the entire collapse of the movement of Arabi Pasha. / 
 
 While thus kept in wholesome restraint by the terror 
 of English arms, Islam is comparatively a haiinless thing ; 
 its chief manifestation of life being in the great pageant of 
 the annual pilgrimage to Mecca. This is the event of the 
 year in the Moslem calendii^r. A procession such as can 
 be formed only in the East, of thousands mounted on 
 
202 THE PILGRIMAGE TO MECCA. 
 
 camels, files slowly througli the city amid tlie enthusiasm 
 of its inliabitants, and streaming out of a gate wliich bears 
 the sacred name of the Gate of God, commences its long 
 journey towards Mecca. Forty days does it keep on its 
 march, which, with the days spent in devotion at the tomb 
 of the prophet, and the forty days of return, make fully 
 tliree months consumed in this holy pilgrimage, which is 
 the great event of the pilgrims' lives. / 
 
 What is to be the future of Damascus ? Shall it have 
 no future save one of gradual decadence? What is to 
 become of these old Oriental towns and decaying civili- 
 zations? Of course Damascus will long continue to exist 
 on the face of the earth. There will always be a city in 
 this Plain, whose natural fertility will support a large pop- 
 ulation ; yet the city may decrease while others increase, 
 as its commerce drifts away fi'om it to other points more 
 accessible to the trade of the world. New lines of travel 
 by land and sea will cause other cities to spring up which 
 will cast into the shade a city that lives by the overland 
 trade of the desert. Ships and steamers and raikoad trains 
 wiU take the place of slow-moving caravans ; and though 
 Damascus wiU still exist, it wiU not be the Damascus of old. 
 
 This gradual fading away of life seems to be typified in 
 the way in which the waters which create Damascus sud- 
 denly disappear. They do not flow on to create other 
 cities, but sink into the earth. It is a singular geographi- 
 cal fact that neither the Abana nor the Pharpar extends 
 beyond the Plain of Damascus. About twenty miles from 
 the city, they lose themselves in a marshy lake which has 
 no outlet, but melts away in the sandy waste, so that at 
 that line verdure and vegetation disappear, while far in 
 the distance stretches the vast Syrian desert. Is there not 
 in this something typical of these Oriental civilizations, 
 which have no force to flow beyond a narrow bound, or to 
 
FUTURE OF DAMASCUS. 203 
 
 civilize any desert portion of tlie earth ; and of this ancient 
 city which dates its existence, according to its credulous 
 inhabitants, from the father of the human race? Damascus 
 has had a great name in history : but its gi'eatness is a 
 thing of the past ; and in the coming centuries, though 
 it may still live in the imagination of the world with the 
 city of the Arabian Nights, its brightness will be only that 
 of a splendid vision, glittering, yet fading, on the horizon 
 of the East. / 
 
CHAPTEE XVIL 
 
 OVER ANTI-LEBANOX~THE MOUNTAIN VALLEYS. 
 
 / Mahomet turned liis back on Damascus before be 
 entered it, but we after entering it and abiding in it three 
 days ; and herein, with all respect for the prophet, I think 
 we are the wiser, for though it is a quaint and picturesque 
 old cit3% we do not find it so enchanting as to take away 
 our desire for the heavenly Paradise, and are able to take 
 our last look of it with a tranquil mind. The horses are 
 standing, saddled and bridled, at the gate, in front of which 
 is a rabble collected to see the strangers depart, expecting 
 perchance that the munificent Howadjis will rain back- 
 sheesh on the stones of the street. One by one we put 
 our heads through the sally-port of Dimitri's Hotel, and 
 mount for the day, departing as we came, along the bank 
 of one of the canals that bring the Abana into the city, 
 and thus having the same pleasant sound of waters for our 
 welcome and farewell. Crossing a bridge, we turn west- 
 ward over the great macadamized road to Beirut. As soon 
 as we touch it we come in contact with civilization. In all 
 Palestine there is not a carriage road, except the poor 
 affair fi-om Jaffa to Jerusalem ; but here is a highway as 
 magnificent as any in Europe. Of course such a road was 
 
A HIGHWAY TO THE SEA. 205 
 
 never built. by the people of this country, nor by their 
 government, it is horn, beginning to end the work of 
 French engineers and French capital. The task was one 
 of great engineering difficulty, for the road had to cross 
 two ranges of mountains, Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, 
 winding up and down their steep ascents and descents ; 
 but over all inequalities it was carried, and made as com- 
 pact and firm to the very tops of the mountains as the 
 Simj)lon or any of the roads built by French or Swiss or 
 Itahan engineers over the Alj)s. By this great highway 
 Beirut and the sea, which were four or five days distant 
 by caravan, are brought within thirteen hours of Damas- 
 cus. This indeed was bringing Western civilization into 
 the heart of the East : it seemed as if we were in a city of 
 France, when we saw French dihgences rumbling into the 
 ancient city of Damascus. Such a peaceful invasion of 
 the cotmtry ought not to alarm Arabs or Turks ; and yet 
 no doubt the road had a military pui-pose, as it was con- 
 structed after the massacres of 18G0, which showed Eiu'ope 
 that it might become necessary for Christian powers to 
 interpose against any futui'e outbreaks of Moslem fanat- 
 icism, when this would serve as a military road by which 
 troops could be conveyed swiftly to Damascus. It makes 
 European residents more comfortable to think that France 
 and England are thus brought so near to a city whose 
 streets not so long ago ran with Cln-istian blood. / 
 
 Had we cared for speed, the dihgence would have con- 
 veyed us in a night to the shores of the Mediterranean. 
 But preferring a more dehberate joui-ney over the two Leb- 
 anons, we kept to our horses, and after an hour and a half 
 on the French road, tui'ned to the right and began to cUmb 
 the hiUs. At first the road was very rough, but as soon as 
 we crossed the hiUs we struck into the valley of the Abana 
 (I prefer the good old Scriptiu'e name of this "river of 
 
206 THE FOUNTAIN OF THE ABANA. 
 
 Damascus," to the modern name of Barada), and at once 
 came into a region of mingled wildness and beauty. To 
 be sure there is but a narrow strip of verdure, only a few 
 rods in breadth, along the bank of the river ; but within 
 that space trees and plants of every kind grow with almost 
 tropical profusion. The willows flourish by the water 
 courses; and not willows only, but the fig tree and the 
 almond tree, the apricot and the pomegranate, and walnut 
 trees of great size, and whole forests of poplar, which are 
 grown for timber. 
 
 Eiding along such shaded paths by the river side, we 
 came to the Fountain of the Abana, which, like the Jordan 
 at Banias, springs out of the heart of the earth ; and like 
 the Jordan, too, had its source honored from the earliest 
 times by a pagan temple, of which great blocks of stone 
 still remain. The old arch which spanned it is broken, 
 but the river still rushes forth, as fresh and strong as when 
 nymphs and naiads sported in its waters. We hope it 
 does not disturb the gods of fountains and of groves, that 
 this sacred stream is now made to turn a saw-mill ! / 
 
 In this green and shaded spot we spread our carpets 
 under the trees, and rested till the middle of the afternoon, 
 when we mounted and rode up the valley — a belt of living 
 green, made more beautiful by contrast with the rugged 
 mountains on either hand, which, by their height and 
 color, reminded me of the old red sandstone and red 
 granite of Sinai. The whole appearance of the country 
 would have been as bleak and dreary as the desert itself, 
 were it not for this element of life, the water, which, 
 springing out of the rocks, and forcing its way through 
 the passes of the mountains, keeps up a perpetual warfare 
 with the mighty desolation. 
 
 We are now in the heart of the range of Anti-Lebanon. 
 Here and there villages are sprinkled among the hills. 
 
CAMP IN A MOUNTAIN VALLEY. 207 
 
 whose sides ai'e teiTaced, and along which the water is 
 canied in channels for irrigation. Wherever it comes the 
 mountain side blooms and blossoms at its touch. The 
 path trodden by oui' horses was very narrow, but they 
 picked their way among the stones with careful feet, and 
 we had no sHp or fall. It was not quite five o'clock when 
 we came suddenly upon our camj). The pack mules had 
 taken another road, and arrived before us. Our tents were 
 pitched under a bank, where we were not only in the 
 shadow of hoary mountains, but of hoary memories as 
 well. On yonder hill which looks down upon us, is the 
 tomb of Abel! How his body was recovered after the 
 mui'der by Cain, and whether it was brought here by 
 Adam and Eve, as chief mourners, we are not informed. 
 Into these points it is better for the irreverent spirit not to 
 inquire too curiously. / 
 
 But apart from this, there was enough in this quiet, 
 peaceful spot to woo the traveller. We were camped on 
 one side of a valley, on the other side of which was a Httle 
 village, with the rushing Abana between — one of those 
 mountain valleys which in a CathoHc country, in Italy or 
 Spain, would have been the seat of a convent or a mon- 
 astery, from whose tower might sound the Angelus at 
 sunset. How sweet would it have been at this hour to 
 hear the vesper bell ringing among the hiUs ! Here there 
 is neither church nor convent, nor even a mosque with its 
 minaret. Yet this place, so lonely, bleak, and wild, is not 
 forgotten by God, nor is God forgotten by his children. 
 The sun is just going down, and hark from the village 
 below, from the top of one of the houses, I hear a voice 
 which I never fail to recognize — it is the muezzin's call to 
 prayer. To the devout Moslem the roof of a house is as 
 good as the minaret of a mosque. It had a strange, weird 
 effect, heard amid the silence of these mountains. And 
 
208 FOLLOWING THE ABANA. 
 
 ■who shall say that the offering was not as sincere as that 
 which ascends from Christian lands ? Who am I to judge 
 the Moslem's prayer? Who can say that in these daily 
 prostrations there is not much of the true spirit of worship, 
 and that the prayers are not heard by Him who is the God 
 and Father of aU mankind ? 
 
 This little incident so touched me that it was with a 
 tender feeling that I turned away from that viUage of Suk, 
 on the site of the ancient Abila, the next morning, and 
 again began to climb the mountains. The roads were 
 rough, but through these mountain i^asses the Imperial 
 people hewed their way. We came upon the remains of 
 a Roman road and a Roman aqueduct. All day long we 
 followed up the Abana in its winding course, amid the oUve 
 groves, while on the southern slopes plantations of mulber- 
 ries reminded us of a sunnier clime. / 
 
 As we had not a long march to-day, we stopped before 
 noon, tempted by the beauty of a spot of green turf under 
 a couple of grand old trees, beside a sweet, flowing spring 
 of water, where, spreading our rugs at the foot of the 
 trees, we took a siesta of nearly three hours. Trom this 
 resting place in the lap of the hills, we looked up and saw, 
 a thousand feet above us, peering out from under the trees, 
 the mountain viUage of Bludan, a favorite retreat from 
 Damascus during the heats of Summer, to which the Eng- 
 lish Consul and the English and American missionaries 
 resort. When we began our afternoon ride, for half an 
 hoiu' we were scrambling over a very stony road, behind 
 the town of Zebedani, and at the entrance of one of the 
 loveHest plains of Syria — a plain which is cultivated with 
 that careful agriculture which one sees here and there 
 in the East, where men and women pick out every weed 
 from the fields as from a garden. There were extensive 
 orchards of apple trees in blossom. The hiUsides were 
 
A MOUNTAIN VALLEY. 209 
 
 covered with vineyards, in which I observed that it was a 
 custom of the people to lay their vines on the ground, per- 
 haps to avoid the strong mountain winds, and also to get 
 from this close contact witti the earth more moisture dur- 
 ing the hot season, when there are no heavy rains to kill 
 the vines with damp and bhght. / 
 
 At about three o'clock we crossed the water-shed of the 
 Anti-Lebanon range. We had reached the last of the 
 sources of the Abana, and henceforth the streams flow to 
 the west, in theii' coui'se to the Mediterranean Sea. An 
 hour later we camped in another mountain valley, as fresh 
 and green as one could see in merry England in the month 
 of May. To be sure, we are here in the best season of 
 the year. When the Summer comes, much of this beau- 
 tiful landscape will be dry and withered, burnt up with 
 the terrible heat*; while England, watered with continual 
 rains, keeps its fi'eshness through the year. But for the 
 time one could hardly see more of beauty in any valley 
 of Wales or in the Highlands of Scotland. From the door 
 of my tent I look across the valley, perhaps a mile wide, 
 to a mountain which is cultivated nearly to the top. It is 
 not all gi-een : for the variety of crops gives it a variety of 
 color. But there is a marked contrast in the two sides of 
 the valley. On our own, behind our tents, rise mountains 
 of rock, with scarcely a particle of verdure, save here and 
 there a stunted bush, while on a farther range He large 
 patches of snow. Yet even here, scattered among the 
 rocks, are goats picking the scanty herbage. I see a flock 
 quite high up on the side of a mountain. At evening 
 they are driven down to the village beside which we are 
 camped, to be milked and to be sheltered for the night. 
 Here they come, followed by a troop of gii'ls, all in white, 
 who have been watching them through the day, as Rachel 
 and Rebecca tended their flocks, and now bring them 
 
210 A MOUNTAIN VALLEY. 
 
 home. Across the valley I hear the voices of children 
 singing, and at sunset appears the prettiest of all rural 
 pictures — children driving in the cows, which come from 
 the valley, as the goats come from the mountain. At the 
 moment perhaps every one of us recalled, as one at least 
 repeated, the line of Kingsley : 
 
 " Mary, go and call the cattle home ! " 
 
 Such are bright pictures in all lands, whether in Syria or 
 Scotland or Switzerland, in the valleys of the Lebanon or 
 the Alj)s. / 
 
 Few things in our journey have given me more exqui- 
 site pleasure than these valleys of Anti-Lebanon. Beauti- 
 ful in the rich verdure of the Spring-time, their beauty is 
 enhanced by being set in a frame of mountains. As in the 
 Swiss valleys, the intense gi*een is heightened by contrast 
 with the rocks and pines, and with the majestic and awful 
 forms of nature : so do the mountains of Lebanon, on 
 which the snow is stiU lying, look down on the loveHest of 
 vales. Beauty goes hand in hand with plent}^ It is a 
 region of abundance, at least for the simple wants of the 
 people. It is a relief to the eye to see, so much comfort 
 and content here in the East, where we are so often pained 
 by the sight of poverty and misery. / 
 
 And the peojDle seem to be not only happy, but kindly. 
 I know that the tribes of the Lebanon have a reputation 
 for being fierce and warlike, as they showed themselves in 
 the war that was waged in these mountains between the 
 Druses and the Maronites. But now they had nothing to 
 excite them, and to us they seemed to be a very simple 
 folk. They are not only simple, but credulous and super- 
 stitious. Wlien we arrived here, ]\Ii's. Adams's horse was 
 found to be ill. Floyd sent for a village doctor, who, 
 although he prescribed for the poor creature, thought the 
 
A SIMPLE AND KINDLY PEOPLE. 211 
 
 beast bewitched by some one who had looked upon it with 
 an evil eye, and burnt rags and broke crockery before it to 
 exorcise the evil spmt ! But we can forgive such follies 
 to those who are kind at heart ; and such they seemed to 
 be, ready to respond to any act of civility. I never touch 
 my hat to one — or rather my breast and forehead, accord- 
 ing to the Oriental custom — without having the salutation 
 returned. If I chance to be waUdng by the river side, 
 and meet an old mountaineer, and put out my hand to him, 
 his face lights up with a fiiendly glow, and we regret the 
 want of language that prevents a freer expression of our 
 mutual good wiU. / 
 
 One cannot but feel kindly towards such a people. The 
 next morning the villagers were up at daylight milking the 
 cows and the goats ; and as we opened the doors of our 
 tents, we were greeted with the same pretty sight as on 
 the preceding evening — flocks and herds streaming in 
 every direction to their pastures for the day, the cows to 
 the meadows on the river's bank, and the goats to their 
 perch among .the rocks on the mountain side, both followed 
 by troops of children, the gentle shepherds of this simple 
 pastoral people. Blessings on them all ! Long may they 
 live among these mountains, untouched by famine : above 
 all, in i^eace with their neighbors, so that these quiet vales 
 may never again be wet with blood ! / 
 
 With such impressions of the country and the people, 
 we resumed our march. Before we left the valley, we 
 passed orchards in which were the largest api^le trees that 
 I have ever seen, covered with blossoms, which filled the 
 air with their perfume. For two or three hours we were 
 riding through a gorge, where there was only a narrow 
 path beside the rushing stream, which now flows west- 
 ward, and empties into the sea near Sidon. At last we 
 left the narrow pass, and struck directly up a very high 
 
212 WE REACH BAALBEC. 
 
 hill, almost a mountain. Just before we reached the top, 
 we met a couple of men heavily armed, one apparently 
 the servant of the other. The superior was remarkably 
 gracious and courteous in his greeting. Floyd said he was 
 a famous bandit ! But fi'iend or foe, we had hardly time 
 to return his salaam before there burst upon us a vision of 
 beauty that might well make us forget the wickedness of 
 man. It was the glory of Lebanon, which now came into 
 full view on the other side of what we knew in an instant 
 to be the Valley of Coele-Syria — one of the most beautiful 
 vaUeys in the East, or in the world. / 
 
 When we left Damascus, our course had been directly 
 to the West ; but as we climbed the range of Anti-Lebanon, 
 we turned gradually to the North, till now, as we descended 
 the slopes, we were marching straight up the valley. The 
 ride was long, as we tried to accomplish the distance to 
 Baalbec in a single march. Had we divided the day, and 
 made it in two rides instead of one, it would have been 
 less wearisome. But we were in the saddle, without rest- 
 ing, for six hours. Some of the party, excited by the 
 prospect of the great sight before us, pricked up their 
 horses, while I lagged behind, keeping company with the 
 palanquin of Mi's. Winter and the baggage train. At 
 lengih we rose over a low hiU, and saw in the distance the 
 mighty ruins of Baalbec, and in another hour turned into 
 the area of the wondrous pile, and passing thi'ough the 
 long subterranean passage, dismounted in front of the 
 Temple of the Sun, and sat down at the foot of columns 
 whose enormous size recalled those of Kamak. / 
 
 And yet we were so fagged out by the day's ride, and 
 by the whole week of fatigue in Damascus and on the 
 mountains, that for an hour we were more occupied with 
 our personal wants than with the splendid architecture 
 around us. When the rugs were spread on the great 
 
WEARIED TRAVELLERS. 213 
 
 porch, we crouched upon them in every posture of weari- 
 ness, hiding behind the pillars to screen ourselves from the 
 direct rays of the god to whom the Temple was dedicated. 
 In front of us rose the six Corinthian columns of the other 
 and still greater Temple, whose gi'ace and beauty have 
 dehghted so many generations ; and yet even here our 
 enthusiasm was held in check for the moment by hunger 
 and weariness, which sometimes subdue the raptui-es of 
 poetry. Pity that travellers have their share — some may 
 think more than their share — of such infirmities ! But at 
 last hunger was satisfied, and fatigue began to abate. As 
 soon as the tents were pitched in the gTounds of the 
 Temple, we threw ourselves on our couches, and took an 
 hour or two of rest, after which all weariness was gone, 
 and we awakened to the immensity and gi-andeui- around 
 us, and began to realize that we were in the presence of 
 one of the wonders of the world. / 
 
CHAPTEE XVni. 
 
 SABBATH MUSINGS IN THE RUINS OF BAALBEC. 
 
 / If a traveller, when lie first comes to Eome, instead of 
 being cliiven to a modern hotel, could be permitted to pitch 
 a tent in the Coliseum, he would find it easier to realize 
 the grandeur of the Imperial city. He would not need to 
 go to history ; history would come to him : he would see 
 it in the mighty walls reared eighteen hundred years ago, 
 within which were crowded a hundred thousand spectators, 
 and be a witness of the combats of lions and tigers, and of 
 the fights of gladiators. Something of this vivid reality of 
 the past we had as we camped within the ruins of the 
 ancient Temple of Baalbec. 
 
 In those far-off times, when Syria was a province of the 
 Roman Empire, in the second century of the Christian era, 
 was reared in this beautiful valley of Coele-Syria, betAveen 
 the two Lebanons, a Temple which was designed to be at 
 Baalbec what the Parthenon was in Athens, the glory and 
 wonder of the Eastern world. Erected by the first of the 
 Antonines, it was designed to be a monument of Roman 
 greatness and power, that should endure to all generations. 
 "We have come to see how much of it remains after the 
 lapse of seventeen centuries. / 
 
CYCLOPEAX ARCHITECTURE. 215 
 
 I will not add another to the many descriptions of 
 Baalbec. It is difficult to convey an idea, by mere archi- 
 tectural measurements, of structures so vast. Petty details 
 rather detract from their full grandeur, which depends on 
 their being taken in with the eye as a whole. A few gen- 
 eral impressions must therefore take the place of minute 
 description. When one rides into the great couii, around 
 which the temples are grouped, the first impression is of 
 the vast scale on which the whole construction is planned. 
 Everything is colossal. The area is larger than that of the 
 Temple at Jemsalem. We may begin with the walls, 
 which are half a mile around, and of such height as is 
 rarely attained in the most tremendous fortress, "^lien 
 from within I climbed to the top, it made me giddy to 
 look over the perilous edge to the depth below ; and 
 when from withoiit the walls, I looked up at them, they 
 rose high in air. Some of the stones seem as if they 
 must have been reared in place, not by Titans, but by 
 the gods. There are nine stones thirty feet long and 
 ten feet thick, which is larger than the foundation-stones 
 of the Temple at Jerusalem, dating from the time of 
 Solomon, or any blocks in the Great Pyramid. But even 
 these are pigmies compared with the three giants of the 
 western wall— sixty-two, sixty-three and a half, and sixty- 
 four feet long! These are said to be the largest stones 
 ever used in any construction. They weigh hundreds of 
 tons, and instead of being merely hewn out of a quaiTy 
 which might have been on the site, and left to lie where 
 they were before, they have been lifted nineteen feet from 
 the ground, and there embedded in the waU ! Never was 
 there such Cyclopean architecture. How such enormous 
 masses could be moved, is a problem with modern engi- 
 neers. Su' Charles Wilson, whom I met in Jerusalem, is 
 at this moment in Baalbec. Standing in the grounds of 
 
216 now THE GREAT STONES WERE MOVED. 
 
 the Temple, he tells me that in the British Museum there 
 is an ancient tablet which reveals the way in which such 
 stones were moved. The mechanics were very simple. 
 Rollers were put under them, and they were drawn up 
 inclined j)lanes by sheer human muscle — the united 
 strength of great numbers of men. In the rude design on 
 the tablet, the whole scene is pictured to the eye. There 
 are the battaUons of men, hundreds to a single roller, with 
 the taskmasters standing over them, lash in hand, which 
 was freely applied to make them pull together, and the 
 king sitting on high to give the signal for this putting forth 
 of human strength en masse, as if an army were moving to 
 battle. A battle it was in the waste of human life which it 
 caused. Who can estimate the fearful strain on all that 
 host — how ranks on ranks fell down in the cruel task and 
 died, only to be rejDlaced by others, who were pushed on 
 with the same remorseless tyranny ! These Temples of 
 Baalbec must have been a whole generation in building, 
 and have consumed the po]Dulation of a province and the 
 wealth of an empire. Each course of stones must have 
 been laid in blood and tears, as if it were a foundation of 
 an altar of Moloch, who could only be appeased by a daily 
 offering of human sacrifices. / 
 
 The interior is laid out like an Acropolis, on which 
 several temples are grouped together, and aU enclosed 
 within the same wall. Of these the most perfectly pre- 
 served is the Temple of the Sun, the walls of which are 
 stiU standing, although the heavy stone roof has fallen in. 
 The style of architecture is that of a Greek temple, and 
 shows where the Romans found their masters and their 
 models. Laid out in the form of a parallelogram, and 
 surrounded by columns, its general shape is that which 
 has been so often copied from the Greeks, as in the Made- 
 leine at Paris, and in Girard CoUege in Philadelphia. It 
 
THE GREAT TEMPLE. 217 
 
 had a double row of columns in front, and a single row on 
 either side and in the rear. Of these the greater part are 
 fallen, except on the northern side, where the peristyle 
 remains nearly perfect, thirteen out of the fifteen original 
 columns being still erect. They are forty-six feet high, and 
 support an entablature of large slabs of stone, which are 
 richly sculptured in ornament, wreaths of foHage encircling 
 the busts of emj^erors and gods. / 
 
 But the glory of Baalbec, upon which the pious Anto- 
 nine lavished the wealth of Rome, is the Great Temple, of 
 which there are far less remains than of the Temple of 
 the Sun, but enough to show its magnitude and splendor. 
 It was approached by a raised platform, or esplanade, 
 440 feet long by 370 wide, which led to the steps of the 
 Temple. Of the vastness of the structure which rose on 
 this Acropolis, some idea is given by the six Corinthian 
 columns, sixty feet long and between seven and eight feet 
 in diameter, which are still standing, and which from their 
 position and height are conspicuous at a gi-eat distance 
 across the plain, as one approaches Baalbec. "What must 
 have been the glory of that Temple when it stood complete, 
 its roof of burnished gold reflecting the Hght of the rising 
 or the setting sun, to the dwellers on the sides of Lebanon 
 or Anti-Lebanon ! 
 
 It was built to last for eternity. But alas for the 
 dreams of ambition! It has been the spoil of ages. 
 Attacked in the fury of the Moslem conquest, sacked by 
 Tamerlane, and shaken by earthquakes, it has seemed as if 
 man and nature had conspired for its destruction, tiU at 
 last its columns lie prone upon the earth, or fallen one 
 upon another, the whole a mighty min, a monument at 
 once of the greatness and the Httleness of man ; of the pride 
 which seeks to perpetuate his power and his name ; and of 
 the fate which overtakes the work of his hands. / 
 
218 SABBATH MUSINGS. 
 
 But other and graver reflections come to us here. It 
 is the day of rest : we are keeping our Sabbath amid these 
 mighty ruins : and our thoughts take the form of a relig- 
 ious meditation. These are not the ruins of Palaces, but 
 of Temples, which show that there was in that day a behef 
 in the higher powers. The Antonine by whom they were 
 reared bore the name of Antoninus Pius. Though an 
 Emperor on his throne, he was grave, serious, and devout, 
 and devoted to the worship of the gods. We are accus- 
 tomed to think that those who reared these ancient temples 
 knew how absurd was the worship for which they were 
 intended, and built them only to embodj^ certain ideals of 
 their imagination, as the Greeks fixed in marble their con- 
 ceptions of beauty in the statues and temples of Venus, or 
 of Divine majesty and power in the temples of Jupiter. 
 But it is hard to believe that wise rulers would waste the 
 resources of a kingdom to perpetuate a faith which they 
 knew to be false. They might indeed build temples, as 
 the Pharaohs of Egj^Dt built Pyramids, as their own monu- 
 ments ; so that a Temple which bore the name of Jupiter 
 should celebrate the glory of Csesar, rather than the great- 
 ness of the god whom he professed to adore. ( 
 
 \ But after all, who can say that Antoninus Pius, in 
 building the Temple at Baalbec, did not helieve in the gods 
 as much as Leo X. believed in Christ when he drained the 
 resources of Christendom to build St. Peter's at Rome ? 
 "Why should he not have so beheved? Was there any- 
 thing so ignoble in his belief as to be unwoiihy of the 
 grave and thoughtful mind of the pious Emperor ? One 
 of these temples was devoted to the worship of the San, 
 which, if any material object was to be adored, might well 
 be worshipped as the Lord and Creator of hfe on the earth. 
 Was it not true then — is it not true to-day — that but for 
 the great Luminary which daily rises in the East and 
 
WILL CHRISTIANITY PERISH ALSO? 219 
 
 rejoices as a strong man to run a race, all life on earth 
 would cease to exist? Man himself would perish as quickly 
 and utterly as the meanest insect. Why then should he 
 not adore the Life-giver and Life-preseiTer ? 
 
 Admitting this, another reflection follows. A Keligion 
 which was mighty enough to build such temples, has per- 
 ished fi'om the earth. Who knows but that two thousand 
 years hence the Rehgion in which we believe may also 
 have passed away ? 
 
 To this it may be answered that Christianity was 
 already in existence when these temples were builded, 
 and that while they are gone, it still lives. Then it was in 
 its weakness : now it is in its power. Then it was con- 
 fined chiefly to the shores of the Mediterranean : now it 
 has gone into all the world. / 
 
 This is a plausible answer, but it is by no means 
 decisive, for other reHgions too have shown an extraor- 
 dinary vitahty. Brahminism and Buddhism are both older 
 than Christianity, and to this day they not only continue 
 to exist, but Buddhism probably holds in its dominion as 
 great a number of disciples as Christendom itself ; while 
 Brahminism, if less in nimibers, has a tenacity of life that 
 resists all the powers of Christian civilization. Skeptics 
 see the bearing of these comparisons. Not only men who 
 make a trade of their infidehty, in sporting their wit in 
 popular lectures, but thoughtful students of history, con- 
 fess to the force of this argument, which produces on them 
 the same effect that the revelations of science do upon the 
 minds of scientific men. It will not do to make light of 
 this cause of unbelief. Reading, studying, and reflecting, 
 many scientific men of Europe and America fully beheve 
 that the progress of science in the course of one or two 
 centuries will dispel the last lingering faith in the Divine 
 origin of our religion. In their philosophic eyes, oui' 
 
220 SCIENCE THE FRIEND OF RELIGION. 
 
 Cliristian faith is but one form of Iniman credulity, wMcli 
 must run its course and then disappear. Timid Christians 
 may lament it, but the result is said to be as inevitable as 
 the course of the sun in the heavens./ 
 
 To these sombre forebodings it wiU not do to reply 
 with looks of horror, as if historians and men of science 
 were atheists and blasphemers. It is better to admit 
 frankly that Christianity will share the fate of the ancient 
 mythologies, unless it has in itself the evidence of its 
 truth. Those who are so zealous to defend it, must not be 
 afraid of discussion or argument, but welcome light from 
 every source. Instead of fearing science, they ought to 
 hail it as the best fiiend of religion. Everything which 
 throws light on the laws of nature, reveals the power and 
 wisdom of God. "While we are not to be disturbed by 
 mere flippant attacks, by caricature or ridicule, yet if any- 
 thing which we have been accustomed to accept be faMy 
 disproved, we are simply to readjust our faith to the new 
 evidence. No man of intelligence who has mastered even 
 the rudiments of geology, can doubt the great antiquity of 
 our globe. The proof lies aU round us in the everlasting 
 hills. When we come to see this, and reexamine the 
 sacred record, we find that the difficulty was not in the 
 Bible, but in our own ignorance, in our narrow and petty 
 interpretation. As we see more clearly, aU things come 
 into harmony. Earnest seekers after truth, we cry with 
 the dying Goethe *' Light ! ligkt ! more light ! " We may 
 not build a Temple to the Sun, but we shaU welcome 
 light from every source, whether from the orb of day, or 
 fi'om him who is the Source of aU. light, and who has given 
 his creatures intelligence to discern the truth, even as he 
 has made great lights in the firmament — the sun to rule 
 the day and the moon to rule the night. / 
 
 Further stiU, if Christianity is to live, it must prove its 
 
RELIGION MUST BE FOUNDED IX TRUTH. 221 
 
 right to live by deeds of goodness and charity, which shall 
 show it to have come from God. It must attest its Divine 
 origin by the life which abides in it, and which it imparts 
 to its disciples. I confess that I have seen in the East 
 much which calls itself Christian, which in faith differs 
 little from the ancient mythology, and which in the life it 
 produces, is no better than the ancient paganism. If I 
 had to choose between the piety of Marcus Aurehus, or 
 Antoninus Pius, and many of the types of Chiistianity 
 which I see here, I should not hesitate a moment. In 
 Jerusalem itself the contrast is not to our advantage. In 
 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where Greeks and 
 Latins meet together to celebrate the death and resurrec- 
 tion of their common Lord, they meet not in mutual love, 
 but glaring at each other in hatred, which they do not 
 attempt to conceal, and Moslem soldiers stand guard over 
 them, to prevent angry strife in the very temple of God ! 
 Not so is the world to be won to him who is the Master of 
 us all, but by a Eeligion founded in truth, supported by 
 every argument of science and philosophy, and above all, 
 illustrated in lives of purity and peace and love, which 
 shall cause the moral wildernesses to bud and blossom as 
 the rose. / 
 
 Such were the musings of that Sabbath day in the ruins 
 of Baalbec. After such grave meditations, it was a relief, as 
 the day was drawing to a close, to leave the ruins, and take a 
 walk through the viUage : for there is a village here of two 
 or thi-ee thousand inhabitants— a village not poorer than 
 other Syrian villages, and which would appear quite re- 
 spectable were it not thi'own into insignificance by the con- 
 trast with the remains of the masters of the world. But if 
 the people are poor, they can be happy, as we saw by,a 
 very pretty scene. Following a small stream which flowed 
 with a rapid current, we came to a bit of green sward sur- 
 
222 MOONLIGHT IN THE RUINS. 
 
 rounded by tlie waters like an island. Here Floyd had 
 proposed to pitch our camp, but we preferred the grounds 
 of the Temj)le. Yet no one could find fault with such a 
 camping-ground. It is a resort of the people of the vil- 
 lage, who were here in numbers, well dressed, and enjoy- 
 ing the quiet evening and the open air with their children. 
 As we came back to our camp, we stopped at the Maronite 
 church in the village, which is very small, and has but few 
 worshippers. It is a feeble and glimmering light in the 
 midst of so much darkness. A better hope we have from 
 the Protestant schools introduced as an offshoot of the 
 American IMission in the Lebanon, which are well attended, 
 and give hope that Baalbec, if never again the seat of Im- 
 perial grandeur, but left only to be the site of a Syrian 
 village, may yet be the abode of intelligence, of content- 
 ment, and of peace. [ 
 
 The day was ended, but the night drew on, which was 
 even more fitted to put one into a mood of sober musing 
 than the day. As the sun was setting, I went up on the 
 wall, and sat a long time watching the hght in the west as 
 it faded over mountain and plain. Hardly had the sun 
 gone down when the full moon rose in the opposite quar- 
 ter of the heavens, shining through the rents in the gray 
 old walls with a soft light that gave them a strange, un- 
 earthly beauty ; while the columns that were stiU standing 
 cast long shadows on the solitary place — shadows that 
 seemed to the quickened fancy like the ghosts of old 
 Romans come to revisit the scene of their ancient splen- 
 dor. But they are only ghosts. The Romans are gone ; 
 the legions are departed ; we hear their tramp growing 
 fainter and fainter in the distance, and at last dying away 
 like the hollow wind. What a monument of human vanity 
 is this desolation ! How it rebukes the pride and ambi- 
 tion, not only of kings and conquerors, but of nations. / 
 
A CITY THAT WILL NOT PERISH. 223 
 
 As for individuals, we shall disappear, as those shadows 
 disaxDpear with the rising sun. These walls which have 
 stood for centuries will remain for centuries to come ; but 
 we shall pass away and be no more seen. But there is 
 that wliich shall abide when man and all his works have 
 perished. The city of God which is above is built of 
 spii'itual stones, which will not crumble with the ages. In 
 the Great Mosque of Damascus is an old Greek inscription, 
 placed there in Chiistian times, and not removed by its 
 Moslem masters, but still embedded in its walls, which we 
 may perhaj^s interpret as a prophecy of coming events in 
 the East, as well as of that realm which is universal and 
 eternal : " Thy kingdom, O Chiist, is an everlasting king- 
 dom, and thy dominion endureth to all generations."/ 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF COELE-SYRIA CROSSING MOUNT 
 
 LEBANON. 
 
 / If one were to choose a day in all tlie round year, 
 wliicli should be the brightest and best, on which to begin 
 a journey or to end it, would it not be the first of May? 
 So we thought as we struck our tents the next morning, 
 and mounted our horses. But bright expectations are not 
 always realized. At our setting out a rainbow in the west 
 gave ominous conjecture of what the day might bring 
 forth, and hardly had we left the ruins of Baalbec before 
 the darkening sky warned us that our apprehensions were 
 to be reahzed. But nothing could hide the beauty of the 
 landscape. On this first of May we were to enter the 
 Garden of Eden, to the description of which few yalleys 
 answer more than this of Coele-Syria. It is probably the 
 bed of an ancient lake, which has left a bottom as smooth 
 and level as when the waters flowed over it. Not only 
 is it of great natural fertility, but richly cultivated. It is 
 dotted with villages, which are no longer confined to the 
 hills. Fields of wheat and barley remind an American of 
 the abundance of our Western prairies. As the soU con- 
 tains a great deal of iron, it turns up red, while the spring- 
 
THE VALLEY OF COELE-SYRIA. 225 
 
 ing wheat gives to the fields the richest green. This 
 contrast of color is one of the beauties of the valley. On 
 our right is the range of Lebanon, whose foot-hills advance 
 into the plain, keeping the waving Hne of beauty in their 
 rounded slopes ; while behind and above them, as well as 
 on the opposite side of the Plain, is the background of the 
 mountains. / 
 
 The effect of all this was greatly enhanced by the 
 threatened stoi-m. Though the clouds did not bui'st, yet 
 great masses darkened the sky, and as they swept across 
 it, cast their shadows on the sides of the mountains. At 
 first fell a few scattering drops, and then came full in oui- 
 faces gusts of wind with heavy rain, against which we had 
 but a feeble protection. We jDut up our umbrellas, which 
 was like hoisting flags at half-mast, and rode on. Four 
 hours of this made us quite willing to rest, when we 
 reached the village of Muallaka, and found shelter in a 
 house which had httle fui-niture excej^t matting on the 
 floor, travellers being expected to provide not only food, 
 but bedding, if they rest for the night, as in the dak-bun- 
 galows of India. However, if the rooms were bare, they 
 were dry, and gave us a feeling of comfort. This village, 
 though little known to the world, has one possession which 
 of itself were enough to confer distinction upon it, the 
 sepulchre of Grandfather Noah ; and to make the most of 
 it, they have stretched him out to his full propoi-tions, his 
 tomb being two hundred feet long ! Even with this, the 
 patriarch is somewhat cramped : for it is said that his 
 knees are bent, and his lower limbs planted straight in the 
 ground ! These fables are devoutly believed by the Mos- 
 lems, with whom the tomb is an object of great veneration. / 
 
 By the middle of the afternoon, we reached Stoui'a, the 
 midway station on the French road from Damascus to 
 Beirut ; and as soon as our horses' hoofs struck that, we 
 
226 ON THE DAMASCUS KOAD. 
 
 had a firm path under our feet, and a line of telegraph over 
 our head — ^the double sign of civilization. That long line 
 of telegraph poles which has marched up the other side of 
 Lebanon, and now goes striding over the valley of Coele- 
 Syria, to climb Anti-Lebanon, and descend into the Plain 
 of Damascus ; does not stop there, but stalks away across 
 the Syrian desert to Bagdad and to Persia, and thus con- 
 nects Europe with Central Asia. 
 
 But the great sign of civilization is the road itself, with 
 the traffic which passes over it in huge covered vans, like 
 those known in America as Pennsylvania waggons, each 
 one of which is drawn by thi-ee mules, and will carry the 
 loads of haK a dozen camels. They generally go in com- 
 panies of a dozen or twenty, which together would trans- 
 port as much as a large caravan ; and as they are always 
 in sight, going up and down the mountains, they present 
 the appearance of the transportation train of an army. | 
 
 We did not stop for the night at Stoura, but pushed on 
 a mile or two up the side of Lebanon, and camped on a 
 green spot, from which we had the whole Plain of Coele- 
 Syria at our feet. Our tents were pitched none too soon. 
 Hardly were we under shelter, when the rain, which had 
 been fitful all day, came down heavily. Night set in dark 
 and gloomy. But what soldier ever cared for the elements 
 the last night of a campaign ? Nothing could check the 
 flow of our spirits so near the end of our journey. Our 
 long march was nearly over. This was our last night in 
 tents, and we were in a merry mood as we gathered round 
 our table, even though the rain was pouring in torrents ; 
 nor did it disturb our rest, though it kept on pouring all 
 night long. A little before morning the clouds broke 
 away, and the sun came out gloriously: and when we 
 broke camp, our tent life was over. \ 
 
 We were early in the saddle for our last ride, and 
 
ON THE DAMASCUS ROAD. 227 
 
 started briskly up the mountain. What a pleasm^e to ride 
 with free rein on such a road as this, instead of picking our 
 ^aj over stones among the rough bridle-paths of Palestine! 
 But we are not alone on the march. The movement of 
 baggage waggons, which has not ceased during the night, 
 keeps up its steady rumble. The waggons that have to 
 climb the mountain strain hai'd and move slowly, while 
 those descending come down rapidly. There is something 
 very impressive in this endless march and countermarch, 
 this moving to and fi'O of busy Hfe, keeping its endless 
 course along the highways of civilization. In this traffic 
 are the products of all nations and all countries, from the 
 farthest East to the farthest West. Nor is America unrep- 
 resented. The most conspicuous object in these baggage 
 waggons, is American petroleum. On the top of aU the 
 European wares stares at me the sign of " Pratt's Astral 
 Oil : warranted not to explode " ! The oH drawn from 
 the wells of Pennsylvania finds its way to the cafes and 
 bazaars of Damascus and Bagdad, and even to the tents of 
 the Bedaween; so that whatever be said of the moral 
 influences which America sends to these shores, in one very 
 practical and material way she furnishes the illuminating 
 element to Hght up the darkness of the East. 
 
 The diUgences from Damascus and Beuiit pass each 
 other— that '^which is cHmbing having extra mules hai- 
 nessed to it, to drag it up the steep asc^t; while that 
 which has crossed the summit comes down the mountain 
 at full speed, swinging round the windings of the road m 
 a way that reminded me very vividly of a passage of the 
 Alps years ago, before the tunnel was bored under the 
 Mont'Cenis, when, with similai' speed, we came rushmg 
 down into the valleys of Savoy. \ 
 
 In a couple of hours we had reached the top of the 
 mountain, and tuimed our horses to take a last look at the 
 
228 ON THE TOP OF LEBANON. 
 
 valley of Coele-Syria, which was spread out before us. 
 There are few fairer spots on the earth's surface. Here, 
 and not at Damascus, is the Paradise from which Mahomet 
 might well have turned away. Though the valley be not 
 so broad as the Plain of Damascus — it is only three or four 
 miles wide — it is more beautiful, as the mountains come 
 nearer. Lebanon and Hermon beckon to each other 
 across the plain. Seldom does the eye rest on a more 
 glorious object than that snow-crowned head of Hermon, 
 as it stands clear and white in the morning sky. With a 
 lingering look, we turned away from a vision which we 
 shall never look upon again, but which we can never 
 forget. \ 
 
 And now we begin to descend the western slope of 
 Lebanon. The way is long, for the road winds in and out, 
 to make an easy and gradual descent. As we turn hither 
 and thither, there opens before us a wide prospect of forest 
 and mountain, while every moment comes nearer and 
 clearer the view of a great city, and of the sea beyond. 
 I had seen the Mediterranean but twice before, at Gaza and 
 from the top of Carmel, since I landed at Alexandria. \ 
 
 We stopped but once for rest on the mountain side, 
 riding into the yard of a khan, from which — the yard — 
 (and it was not a court-yard or door-yard, but a barn-yard) 
 there was a gTand outlook toward the sea. As we stood 
 admiring the view, a horseman came up the road, who had 
 the di'ess of a European, and we supposed to be a gentle- 
 man from Beirut taking an airing on the mountains, when 
 he rode into the yard and called my name. It was Mr. 
 Dale of the American Mission, who was on his way from 
 Beirut back to his home in Zahleh, a large village in the 
 Lebanon. We detained him for luncheon, and sat down 
 together, squatting on our mats in the Eastern fashion. 
 He made but a brief halt, as he had far to ride ; but in 
 
APPROACH TO BEIRUT. 229 
 
 that shoi-t time his earnest missionaiy spirit left a pleasant 
 imi^ression upon us all. A native of Philadelpliia, mth the 
 education of a scholar, and a refinement of manners that 
 would seem to make much in Oriental habits repulsive to 
 him, he has chosen the Hfe of a mission aiy, not from a 
 hard sense of duty, but because it is the work which he 
 loves, and enters into with enthusiasm. " ^\' hen," I said to 
 him, " are you going to retui-n to America ? Do you not 
 pine for a sight of Philadelphia ? " " Philadelphia ! " he 
 answered. "What is Philadelphia compared to Zahleh?" 
 That is the stuff that American missionaries are made of, 
 and such are the men who have made bright so many 
 spots on the sides of Lebanon. \ 
 
 The ride was easy now that we were coming down the 
 mountain. The horses stepped quickly, and with each 
 descending cur^^e of the road the outline of the coast 
 became clearer, till we could see the long stretch of sandy 
 beach and the white caps of the waves breaking on the 
 shore. There, on a promontoiy jutting into the sea was 
 Beinit, the roofs of its houses gHstening in the sun. The 
 approach is through a succession of olive groves, which 
 cover the plain and reach far up the mountain side, making 
 the wealth of the villages which ai-e perched upon the 
 rocks ; and through plantations of mulbeiTy-trees, which 
 show that silk culture is one of the great industries of the 
 country. Near the city are gi'oves of pine ti'ees, which are 
 not common in Syiia, but which are planted here to fui-nish 
 a cool retreat in the heats of Summer. So we rode on till 
 we were within about two miles of the city, when I saw 
 coming a face that looked familial', and soon recognized a 
 voice that I had often heard among the rocks of Sinai. It 
 was Dr. Post, who had come out to meet me. I had been 
 " stopped on the road " once before in his company, but 
 that was by robbers on the desert Then he told me not 
 
230 IN AN AMERICAN HOME. 
 
 to get off from my camel ; but now he bade me dismount. 
 I was sorry to say good-bye to the faithful beast that had 
 brought me from Jerusalem, but I confess that after weeks 
 and months of rocking and jolting on horseback and camel- 
 back, I was not sorry to descend from this elevation, and 
 to " come up into the chariot." Remembering my anxiety 
 at Gaza for news from my family, he had brought with 
 him letters and a telegram from Venice, to cheer me with 
 good tidings on my second return to civilization. ( 
 
 And then he took me to his home. Having some Httle 
 means of his own, he has chosen to use them in the wisest 
 way that a man can, in providing for his family a house 
 after his own taste. It is a modest English cottage, 
 with only the addition of the broad veranda, which is as 
 indispensable in an Eastern house as in an Indian bunga- 
 low ; while the interior, in its comfort and convenience, 
 is quite American. The love of flowers betrays itself in 
 the perfume that greets us as we drive in at the gate. 
 Vines overrun the walls and encircle the doors and win- 
 dows, and fill the air with fragrance. But the glory of 
 the house is its position, on a bluff, from which one can 
 look off, like Elijah's servant from the top of Carmel, " over 
 the wide expanse of the Mediterranean Sea." My windows 
 take in the whole horizon of waters, with snow-capped 
 mountains in the north. One can hardly reahze, except in 
 coming out of the wilderness, the exquisite charm of such 
 a dwelling. What is the excitement of tent life compared 
 with this sweet domestic repose ? "With aU the poetry of 
 the mountains or the desert, I prefer civilization ; and am 
 content to dwell no more in " tabernacles," like Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob, when I can exchange them for the order 
 and taste, the comfort and the refinement, of an American 
 home.\ 
 
CHAPTEK XX. 
 
 BEIRUT AMETMCA IN THE EAST. 
 
 / The traveller who makes Beirut the terminus of his 
 journey through the Holy Land, will be apt to feel that he 
 has kept the best until the last. It is in some respects 
 the most attractive city in the East. Its position unites 
 almost every element of beauty. As Byron pictui'es the 
 scene of one of the great battles of history in the lines 
 
 The mountains look on Marathon, 
 And Marathon looks on the sea ; 
 
 so we may say of the modem commercial capital of Syria. 
 Its site has been chosen on account of its secure harbor for 
 ships, while behind it and around it sweeps the chain of 
 Lebanon. It is a constant pleasure to tiu'n the eye to that 
 glorious background of mountains. It is not as in India, 
 where one has to travel hundreds of miles over the hot and 
 sultry plains, to reach the Hills. They ai'e in fuU sight, 
 but two or three hours distant. The residents of Bemit, 
 in Summer, take up their quarters in the villages that hang 
 on the side of the mountains, embowered in olive trees. 
 Here the missionaries have their retreats. Dr. Post and 
 Dr. Dennis have adjoining cottages, ep'ies from which 
 they can look down on theii' city homes. \ 
 
232 BEIRUT. 
 
 But the great beauty of Beirut is the sea. It stands on 
 a point of land which projects so boldly that the sea is on 
 three sides of it, and almost girdles the city with a zone of 
 silver. There it is morning, noon, and night — at sunrise 
 and sunset, in twilight and moonlight and starlight, in 
 calm and storm, enchaining the eye, now by its beauty, 
 and now by its majesty and power. V 
 
 The sea brings commerce, and Beirut being at the head 
 of the Mediterranean, has a large trade with all the coun- 
 tries along its shores, sending its ohves and silks to Italy 
 and France, to England and to America. Her merchants 
 are princes, whose wealth appears in the stately mansions, 
 which rise on the hillsides that enclose the city. 
 
 Being thus connected by commerce with Europe, Beirut 
 is half a European city. Here for the first time in Syria, 
 one finds paved streets, through which he can diive in a 
 carriage, and good roads out of the city, v^dth many other 
 signs of European order and civilization. 
 
 It is one of the few parts of the Turkish Empire that is 
 decently governed. This is the fruit of European inter- 
 vention. After the massacres of 1860, France and England 
 insisted that the Christian population should not be left to 
 the fanaticism of the Druses and other Moslems, and 
 assumed a sort of protectorate over the Lebanon, in con- 
 sequence of which it has at this moment an excellent 
 Governor in the person of Rustem Pacha, of whom the 
 missionaries speak in the highest terms.* \ 
 
 * I regret to be obliged to add, that within the past year, when 
 his term of office expired, owing to the opposition of France, 
 Eustem Pacha was not reappointed Governor of the Lebanon. 
 The new appointment was the subject of intrigues at Constanti- 
 nople, and it seems almost a miracle that, as the issue of this 
 conflict of parties, the Porte has sent one who has the reputation 
 of being a man of integrity, justice, and courage. \ 
 
CHRISTIAN IXSTITUTIOXS. 233 
 
 Tlie commercial importance of Beirut brings here not 
 only the Consuls of different countries, but a large number 
 of foreign residents, bankers and merchants, who form 
 a very agi-eeable community. "With this Eui'oi^ean life is 
 introduced another element not less important to the 
 future of the East — Christian institutions. The CathoHcs 
 are here in force with theii' large convents and seminaries ; 
 but theu' presence need not alarm us ; we need not fear 
 any rivalship in well-doing. Let them do all the good 
 they can. However active and self-denying theii' Sisters 
 of Charity may be, they cannot sui-pass in devotion the 
 Deaconesses of Kaiserswerth, who are here in the hospitals, 
 giving themselves to the care of the sick and the poor. 
 Such angels of mercy bless the world wherever theii* foot- 
 steps come. \ 
 
 Of course, the hand of England is here, as it is eveiy- 
 where : her institutions are scattered over the globe. The 
 last morning that we were in Beirut there was a gather- 
 ing of the childi-en of the famous schools of ^Ii's. Mott 
 As a number of strangers, English and American, stood 
 on the steps of the large mansion, which from its position 
 on the hiU-side overlooks the city and the bay, and saw a 
 thousand children marching thi'ough the spacious grounds 
 singing theii' songs and waving theii' banners, all felt that 
 they might have been witnessing a Sunday-school celebra- 
 tion in England or America. It was one of those happy 
 scenes which give us hope that the next generation will be 
 better than their fathers. 
 
 While recognizing the noble efforts of different coun- 
 tries, it is natural that an American should feel a special 
 interest in those which originated in his own country, 
 to which I refer as showing that America, though so far 
 away, has a legitimate influence in the East. Although 
 not one of the Great Powers which assume to regulate the 
 
234 AMERICA IN THE EAST. 
 
 affairs of Europe and of the Eastern shores of the Mediter- 
 ranean, she has a position of her own, which carries with it 
 very great influence. True, she has no " Eastern pohcy," 
 except the policy which she has towards all nations — ^that 
 of peace and good will. She did not join with England 
 and France in fighting the battles of Turkey in the Crimean 
 War, in which they rendered a doubtful service to civiliza- 
 tion. In a preceding war of Turkey the sympathies of 
 America were wholly against that power, and on the side 
 of Greece ; but she took no part in the struggle beyond 
 that of receiving and protecting refugees flying from the 
 massacre of Scio. She has entered into no Eastern war : 
 she has sent no army to these shores, and no fleet into 
 these waters. Once indeed the United States intervened 
 in the Mediterranean ; but not for any selfish, or merely 
 national, interest, but in the interest of the whole world, 
 against the Barbary pirates, who for three centuries had 
 levied tribute on the commerce of all nations — a tribute to 
 which America was the first to oppose a determined and 
 successful resistance. In 1815 Commodore Decatur won a 
 brilliant victory, which brought the haughty Dey of Algiers 
 to terms, and compelled him to recognize the flag of the 
 United States as inviolable — a work which was followed up 
 the next year by the English fleet under Lord Exmouth, 
 which bombarded Algiers, and compelled the Dey to 
 release aU Christian slaves. Some years afterwards Ameri- 
 can ships rendered a like service in pui'suing the pirates 
 who hid themselves among the islands of the Greek archi- 
 pelago. But this hunting of outlaws on land or sea is 
 not war against a country or a government, so that it is 
 literally true that, from the foundation of our Eepublic, its 
 relations with the Eastern world have been those of peace 
 and friendship. / 
 
 With such a policy of non-interference with other 
 
MISSIOXS IN THE TURKISH EMPIRE. 235 
 
 nations — a policy declai-ed from the beginning and fol- 
 lowed up in all her history, how is it that America has 
 obtained a position or acquired influence in the East, 
 where influence generally goes with the display of mili- 
 taiy or naval 'power ? Perhaps her influence has been 
 partly owing to the fact that she has not made any such 
 display of force. Having no political designs, she has 
 not been "an object of suspicion. But it has not been this 
 alone. More powerful than the action, or non-action, of the 
 government, has been the silent influence of individual men. 
 
 More than half a centuiy ago, while the war with 
 Greece was still raging, American missionaries were sent 
 to Constantinople, Smjirna, and Beimt, and into the inte- 
 rior of the Turkish empu'e. They came, not as emissaries 
 of their Government, but as Christian teachers. They 
 planted schools ; they gathered chui'ches ; they were the 
 friends of the poor, whom they often fed in the time of 
 famine, and to whom they ministered in sickness, facing 
 the horrors of the cholera and the plague that they might 
 give them relief. Thus in the coui'se of a generation they 
 made their way into the hearts of the people, and won uni- 
 versal confidence and respect. / 
 
 Of these messengers of peace, some went up to the 
 top of Lebanon, where their feet were beautiful upon 
 the mountains. There was one who was fitly called the 
 Cedar of Lebanon — he was of such commanding pres- 
 ence that he might well be likened to one of the goodly 
 cedars. This man, Simeon H. Calhoun, who might have 
 held a position of honor in his own country, spent more 
 than thii-ty years on Mount Lebanon, teaching Ai-ab 
 boys, that when they were grown to be men, they might 
 become pastors and teachers. Years passed before he 
 could see the fr'uit of his labor; but after a generation 
 he was able to say that "From his academy on Mount 
 
236 THE CEDAR OF LEBANON. 
 
 Lebanon had gone out teachers carefully grounded in 
 natural philosophy, the lesser mathematics, geography, 
 history, Arabic, and especially the Bible. These teachers 
 were in Jaffa, Gaza, in the land of Moab, in Eamoth- 
 Gilead, in Damascus. The teacher of the high school in 
 the latter city was one of his pupils. They were carrying 
 the Christian Scriptures and the elements of education 
 among their people all over the Holy Land." 
 
 The influence of such a man could not be confined to a 
 school, a village, or a community. The people of the East 
 ai-e impressed by anything that betokens pecuhar sanctity, 
 and they were awed by his grave and reverend aspect, and 
 still more, by his life. There was in him something so un- 
 worldly, that they revered him as a saint. Such was the 
 influence he acquired over them, and such their confidence 
 in him, that when civil war broke out in the Lebanon 
 between the Maronites and the Druses, and raged with 
 terrible ferocity — when the nights were hghted up with 
 the burning of villages, and massacre on one side provoked 
 massacre on the other — both sides came to him for protec- 
 tion, and brought thek precious things, and stored them 
 under his roof, feehng that they were safe imder his care. 
 Was there ever a greater tribute to the power of character 
 over infuriated men ? / 
 
 It was the desire of this noble man to die on Mount 
 Lebanon, and to sleep among the people whom he so much 
 loved. On his last visit to America a friend urged him to 
 remain in his own country, where his long experience in 
 missions might benefit the Church more than his services 
 abroad ; but he answered " No ; there are two cedars on 
 Lebanon just far enough apart for my body to he between 
 them, and there will be my resting-place." But this was 
 not to be. He had come back to America to die, and his 
 body rests in the soil of his native land. But he has left 
 
THE SYRIAN MISSION. 237 
 
 on Mount Lebanon, and in all the East, the memory of his 
 goodness, and the rich inheritance of his beloved name. 
 
 I speak of this missionary rather than others because I 
 knew him best. 'V\'Tien I was in College he was my teacher, 
 and he has always been in my memory as the verv^ type of 
 Christian manliness. But there were others of like spirit 
 associated with him. The Mission cemetery in Beunit holds 
 their dust. There sleeps Eli Smith, who accompanied Dr. 
 Robinson in his exploration of the Peninsula of Sinai and 
 of the Holy Land. Such were the men who founded the 
 Syrian Mission, which they left as the finiit of their labors, 
 a legacy to those who should come after them. / 
 
 With such a history of fifty years behind it, it is not sur- 
 prising that this IVIission is so thoroughly organized, with 
 every aid to a work that is designed to be extensive and 
 permanent. Dr. Eddy, one of the old veterans of the Mis- 
 sion, has charge of the Press, and edits a paper in Arabic, 
 besides preaching in a chapel in another pai-t of the city. 
 Dr. Jessup is the pastor of the native chuix-h, and by his 
 eloquence, which is equally marked whether he speaks in 
 Enghsh or in Arabic, di'aws crowds to hear him. Near his 
 house is a seminary for Arab gii'ls under the charge of Miss 
 Everett, assisted by Miss Jackson, and by ]\Iiss Thomson, 
 a daughter of the author of " The Land and the Book."/ 
 
 But the chief glory of this Mission, and the brightest 
 spot in Beirut, is the Sp'ian Protestant College, founded by 
 American liberality. Its corner-stone was laid twenty years 
 ago by WiUiam E. Dodge of New York. Never was an insti- 
 tution more wisely planned, or more successfully conducted 
 Though but twenty years old, it will take rank with any 
 iVmerican coUege that has not had a longer existence, and 
 indeed with many that are much older. The President, 
 Dr. Bliss, has nursed it from the day of small things with 
 admirable tact and judgment. In the Ejtarting of it, and in 
 
238 THE SYRIAN PROTESTANT COLLEGE. 
 
 all the early years of its history, he acknowledges himself 
 greatly indebted to the daily counsel and efficient aid of 
 Kev. David Stuart Dodge, whom not only Dr. Bliss, but 
 all the missionaries here regard as a man whose extreme 
 modesty hides from all but those who know him intimately 
 his great ability. Thanks to their combined efforts, the 
 College was a success from the beginning. The President 
 has gathered about him a staff of professors and teachers 
 such as would make the reputation of any college. / 
 
 Indeed there is one man who in his own department 
 has no superior and no equal. Dr. Van Dyck is, by the 
 confession of European scholars, the first Arabic scholar 
 living. He is the chief translator of the Bible into Arabic 
 — a work begun by Dr. Eli Smith, who wrought upon it 
 until his death, when the burden fell on Dr. Van Dyck, 
 who gave to it twelve years, and carried it through to the 
 end. The translation is said to be one of the best in any 
 language. For the benefit of students, he has published a 
 valuable work on Arabic Prosody. But he is not a mere 
 Arabic scholar. In other departments the extent and 
 variety of his attainments is quite extraordinary. He is a 
 physician, a chemist, a mathematician, and an astronomer. 
 He has published a book on Chemistry (of course in 
 Arabic), and several on Medicine, one of which, on Path- 
 ology, is a work of a thousand pages. There is one on 
 Physical Diagnosis, and he has another ready for the press 
 on Diseases of the Eye. His book on GeograjDhy has gone 
 through four editions. He has published an edition of 
 Euclid, and a work on Algebra (two editions) ; and a large 
 work on Mathematics, including Logarithms, Plane and 
 Spherical Trigonometry, Mensuration, Surveying, and Nav- 
 igation; and also a work on Astronomy, and has now 
 ready for the press a second book on Practical Astronomy, 
 and still another on the Geography of the Heavens. There 
 
A GREAT AMERICAN SCHOLAR. 239 
 
 is a small Observatory connected witli the College, where 
 he amuses himself, when wearied with his other labors, in 
 watching the stars. Such an example of intellectual 
 activity, in so many depaiiments, is very rare in any 
 country. "While attending to all these departments of the 
 College, he takes his full share in the work of the Hospital, 
 alternating with Dr. Post. Meeting him one day as he 
 returned fi'om this duty, he said with a smile : " I have 
 had only seventy-five cases to-day; sometimes I have a 
 a hundred and twenty-five."/ 
 
 So perfect a master of the language is Dr. Van Dyck 
 that when dressed in the costume of the country, as he is 
 sometimes on a journey, he might be mistaken for a native, 
 as indeed he was on one memorable occasion, when it 
 nearly cost him his life. In the war of 18G0, when the 
 Druses and Maronites were fighting in the Lebanon, he 
 was sent for as a physician to care for the wounded ; and 
 prompt at every call of duty, started at once, not even 
 waiting for an escort or a guard, thinking himself suffi- 
 ciently well known to be able to pass anywhere. But he 
 fell into the hands of a party who did not know him, and 
 who could hardly believe that a man who was such an 
 Ai-ab in his speech, was not a native of the country ; and 
 if so, and not on their side, he must be an enemy, and it 
 might have gone hard with him had not one who did 
 know him suddenly appeared and rescued him out of 
 their hands. This incident had a sequel worth repeat- 
 ing. In the crowd of those who were ready to put him to 
 death, was one man whom he thought he recognized, but 
 who, instead of befi'iending him in his extremity, seemed 
 to be urging the others on. Several yeai's after, who 
 should come into the hospital at Beirut to be treated for 
 some affection of his eyes, but this very fellow! The 
 Doctor knew him at once as the man whom he had met in 
 
240 THE MEDICAL DEPARTMENT. 
 
 quite other circumstances, and calling him by name, said 
 "Ah ha ! are you here ? " at which the wretch began to 
 tremble and beg for mercy. But the good Doctor soon 
 relieved his fears. " Don't be afraid," he said ; " I shall 
 not do you any harm " ; and bending over him with as 
 much tenderness as if at the couch of a friend in similar 
 need, he ministered to his relief, trying to save from blind- 
 ness the man who had wished to shed his blood. Was ever 
 an act more in the spirit of the Divine Master ? 
 
 Associated with this grand old man are half a dozen 
 younger men, who are fast making proof of their ability, 
 and giving promise of distinction, y 
 
 Connected with the College at an early day was a Med- 
 ical Department, of which Dr. Post, my companion on the 
 Desert, has been from the beginning the inspiring soul, 
 and which has had a very remarkable success. Of Dr. 
 Post I can hardly sj^eak without seeming to be influenced 
 by personal feeling. It is true he is my friend, and very 
 dear to me, and I could not, if I would, take his measure 
 " critically." But I do not think I am unduly influenced 
 by friendship, when I regard him as one of the most use- 
 ful men in the East. Certainly he is one of the most inde- 
 fatigable men I have ever known. Slight in figure, he is a 
 bundle of nerve and muscle, quick in motion, of great 
 physical activity and endurance, a splendid horseman, 
 riding like an Arab, if need be, to meet some call of duty ; 
 doing everything rapidly and at the same time well. Being 
 in his house nearly a week, I sometimes thought it would 
 be the best reply to those who think missionaries have an 
 easy time of it, if I could keep a chronicle of the number 
 and variety of the duties to which he attends in a single 
 day. He is the first surgeon in Syria. If he were to give 
 himself up to private practice, he could amass a fortune 
 rapidly. As it is, he has many cases forced upon him, 
 
A PHYSICIAN AVHO IS NEVER IDLE. 241 
 
 especially difficult cases of surgery. If a Tui'kisli Pacha 
 breaks his bones, he will have no one to set them right 
 but the American missionary. But Dr. Post prefers to 
 give his sei-vices to the poor, and of these services there is 
 no end. Every man who gets into a street fight, and is 
 battered and bruised, feels that he has a right to call on 
 him for help. One morning we were riding out of the 
 yard, when we met several men coming in, one of whom 
 was bleeding fearfully. The doctor sprang out in an 
 instant, and calling for a pail of water, washed the poor 
 fellow's head till he discovered that the injui'ies were not 
 fatal, prescribed for him on the spot, told his friends how 
 to bind up his wound, wrote an order on the disj^ensaiy 
 for the medicines which he needed, and springing into his 
 buggy again, was off to some other duty. This sort of 
 thing is of frequent occuiTence. He is going fi'om morn- 
 ing till night, giving his services in the Hospital without 
 any compensation, as well as his lectures in the College, 
 wiiting books and editing a medical journal. He has pre- 
 pared a series of Text Books on Surgery, Materia Medica, 
 Botany, Zoology, and Physiology, besides a Concordance of 
 the Ai'abic Bible, a large octavo volume. Then for want of 
 sufficient occupation, to fill up the time he edits a Monthly 
 Medical Journal, which he has carried on his shoulders for 
 years. ,/ 
 
 To complete the work of the College, was added to it 
 some ten years ago a Theological Department, a legacy 
 from that sainted man, who in his mountain home upon 
 Lebanon, used to prepare young men for the ministry. 
 "When at last, worn dowTi with labor, he left for America 
 to die, that course of instruction was removed to Beirut, 
 and made a Department of the College. It is now under 
 the care of Rev. Dr. Dennis, a man whose thorough 
 scholarly training at Princeton, and many qualifications 
 
242 WHAT AMERICA HAS TO SHOW IN THE EAST. 
 
 both of mind and heart, eminently fit him for the work of 
 educating young men. In the instmction he is aided in 
 different portions of the course of study by Drs. Van Dyck 
 and Eddy, men of long experience, who, having been 
 themselves greatly useful in the Church, know how to 
 teach others to be useful also. With such equipments, and 
 growing in strength every year, this Protestant CoUege is 
 an immeasurable good to the country. / 
 
 / Such are the monuments of a power which is better 
 than ships and guns. If asked what America has to show 
 in the East, we answer, No battle-fields like those of the 
 Crimea, no siege of Sebastopol, no bombardment of Alex- 
 andria ; but on the Bosphorus there stands a College 
 founded by American hberality, which is as eloquent in 
 one way as the cemetery at Scutari, which contains so 
 many of the noble English dead, is in another. That Col- 
 lege will do more, in the ages to. come, for the regeneration 
 of Turkey, than was wrought by all the fearful sacrifice of 
 life, the sad memorial of which is in that hallowed ground 
 where sleep "the unreturning brave." What Robert 
 College is to European Turkey, the CoUege at Beirut is to 
 Syria. / 
 
 Our visit is coming to a close. We have made the tour 
 of the Holy Land, and in leaving it, our reflections are of a 
 mingled character : sorrow and pain alternating with love 
 and tenderness. Sometimes we have been moved to a feel- 
 ing of contempt. In riding over its rugged hiUs, I have 
 asked myself again and again. Can this be the Promised 
 Land? — and inwardly thanked God that it was not the 
 land promised to our fathers. Old Massachusetts is worth 
 a hundred Palestines. In that Commonwealth which we 
 are proud to call our mother, there is more intelligence, 
 more wealth and comfort, more domestic virtue and happi- 
 ness, more order and civilization, yes, and more genuine 
 
FAREWELL TO THE HOLY LAND. 243 
 
 Christianity, than in all the land of the East. But let us 
 not be lifted up with pride, because of our prosperity, and 
 say boastingly, " He hath not dealt so with any people " ; 
 nor look with a pity but little removed from scorn on those 
 whose house is left unto them desolate. Eather would we 
 come with the Jews to their waHing-place, by the founda- 
 tion stones of the Temple, and cry " O God, the heathen 
 are come into thine inheritance," and pray that after all 
 these ages the time to favor Zion may come. Let us not 
 forget that this land, so bleak and baiTen now, has given 
 Christ to the world ; that it is the cradle of our Religion ; 
 and that but for it, the Commonwealth of Old England 
 and the Commonwealths of New England would never 
 have been born. Of all that we have, not of Religion only, 
 but of Liberty also, we must trace back the origin to the 
 Galilean Hills. / 
 
 At leng-th the end must come ; the farewells must be 
 spoken. As we sat round the table for the last time, with 
 DeanHowson for a guest, our hearts were divided between 
 the land where we had enjoyed so much in wandering 
 among its holy hills, and the dear homes of England and 
 America ; after which Dr. Post and Dr. Dennis " accom- 
 panied me to the ship," a steamer of the Austrian Lloyds, 
 which was crowded with passengers, among whom were 
 many English and American clergj^men, who having been 
 to Jerusalem for the Holy. Week, and made the tour of 
 Palestine, were now taking their departui'e fi'om the East. 
 The day was nearly gone when the ship tui'ned her head 
 to the west, and bore away for Cypnis. Slowly came down 
 over the sea the soft Eastern twilight, in which we Ungered, 
 gazing at the receding shores, till they grew dim in the 
 gathering darkness, and the last glow of sunset faded fi*om 
 the top of Lebanon. / 
 
" Ttvo as interesting and valuable books of travel as have 
 been published in this country.— New York Express. 
 
 Dr. FIELD'S TRAVELS ROUND THE WORLD. 
 
 I. 
 
 FROM THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY 
 
 TO THE GOLDEN HORN. 
 
 From THE LONDON TIMES. 
 " As we all know, it is not necessary for a man to discover a new country in 
 order to write an interesting book of travel. He may traverse the most beaten 
 track in Europe, and yet if he can describe what he has seen with freshness and 
 originality, he will succeed in engaging our attention. We do not go far with 
 Dr. Field before finding out that he is a traveller of this sort." And so on for 
 a column and a half, criticising here and there, but praising warmly ; and end- 
 ing, "Thus we take leave of a writer who has produced so interesting and 
 meritorious a book that we are sorry we cannot coincide with all his conclu- 
 sions." 
 
 From THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 " Few recent travellers combine so many qualities that are adapted to com- 
 mand the interest and sympathy of the public. While he indulges, to its 
 fullest extent, the characteristic American curiosity with regard to foreign lands, 
 insisting on seeing every object of interest with his own eyes, shrinking from no 
 peril or difficulty in pursuit of information— climbing mountains, descending 
 mines, exploring pyramids, with no sense of satiety or weariness, he has also 
 made a faithful study of the highest authorities on the different subjects of his 
 narrative, thus giving solidity and depth to his descriptions, without sacrificing 
 their facility or grace." 
 
 From the late WILLIAM ADAMS, D.D., LL.D. 
 
 "... They are the best of the kind ever written, and have done, and 
 will do, the writer boundless credit.'' 
 
 From THE INDEPENDENT. 
 
 "We do not recall a book in which there is so admirable a union of a 
 traveller's narrative of experience and a judicious observer's comments upon 
 the condition of foreign society and politics." 
 
 One Vol., Crown Svo. Price, $2.00. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers, 
 
 743 AND 745 Broadway, New Vokk. 
 
Dr. FIELD'S TRAVELS ROUND THE WORLD. 
 
 II. 
 FROM EGYPT TO JAPAN. 
 
 From the NEW YORK OBSERVER. 
 
 " The present volume comprises by far the most novel, romantic, and inter- 
 esting part of the Journey (Round the World), and the story of it is told and 
 the scenes are painted by the hand of a master of the pen. Dr. Field is a vet- 
 eran traveller ; he knows well what to see, and (which is still more important to 
 the reader) he knows well what to describe and how to do it." 
 
 From Prof. ROSWELL D. HITCHCOCK, D.D., LL.D. 
 
 " In this second volume, Dr. Field, I think, has surpassed himself in the first, 
 and this is saying a good deal. In both volumes the editorial instinct and habit 
 are conspicuous. Dr. Prime has said that an editor should have six senses, the 
 sixth being, a "sense of the interesting."' Dr. Field has this to perfection. * *" 
 
 From the NEW YORK HERALD. 
 
 " It would be impossible by extracts to convey an adequate idea of the abun- 
 dance, or picturesque freshness of these sketches of travel, without copying a 
 large part of the book," 
 
 From Rev. Dr. R. S. STORRS. 
 
 " It is indeed a charming book — full of fresh information, picturesque de- 
 scription, and thoughtful studies of men, countries, and civilizations." 
 
 From Rev. Dr. A. P. PEABODY, late editor of the North American Review. 
 " I have never, within anything like the same space, seen so much said of 
 Egypt, or so wisely or so well. Much as I have read about Egypt — many vol- 
 umes indeed— I have found some of these descriptions more graphic, more real- 
 istic, than I have ever met or expect to meet elsewhere." 
 
 By CHARLES DUDLEY W^ARNER, in the Hartford Courant. 
 " It is thoroughly entertaining; the reader's interest is never allowed to 
 flag : the author carries us forward from land to land with uncommon vivacity, 
 enlivens the way with a good humor, a careful observation, and treats all 
 people with a refreshing liberality." 
 
 One Tol., Crown 8vo. Price, $2.00. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers, 
 
 743 AND 745 Broadway, New York. 
 
ON THE DESERT. 
 
 WITH A BBIEF MEVIEW OF RECENT EVENTS IN EGYPT. 
 
 An account of a journey in the track of the Israelites along the Red Sea. 
 among the peaks of Sinai, through the Desert of the Wandering, and up to thf 
 Promised Land. 
 
 From Dr. HOWARD CROSBY. 
 
 " No books of travel have ever so fascinated me as those of Dr. H, M. 
 Field." 
 
 From Canon FARRAR, W^estminster Abbey. 
 " I found it so interesting that I could not lay it down till I had finished it." 
 
 From NOAH SWAYNE, LL.D., late Justice of the Supreme Court of the 
 United States. 
 " Although I had been over the same ground before with Dean Stanley 
 and others, I find the work extremely interesting. '' 
 
 From Rev. W. G. T. SHEDD, D.D. 
 
 " I see the desert and the mountains, and the Arabs, and the camels, and 
 all the strange scenery, without the toil, heat, and danger." 
 
 From Rev. T. W^. CHAMBERS, D.D,, of New York, who made the Journey 
 across the Desert to Mount Sinai in 1867, 
 
 "Those who have been over the ground will bear witness to the author's 
 literal accuracy. The reader will get a better idea of the real characteristics 
 of the Sinaitic Desert and its inhabitants from these pages, than from any other 
 accessible volume." 
 
 From the NEW YORK HERALD. 
 " There is not an uninteresting chapter in the book. It is entertaining 
 throughout. It depicts men and countries in a picturesque and thoughtful 
 manner, and is likely to meet with as much favor as the author's former cap- 
 ital books of travel." 
 
 One Vol., Crotvn Svo. rrice, $2.00. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers, 
 
 743 AND 745 Broadway, New York.