'"''■ ''•(■''iV' , '/>' \ ' . who have never been abroad may by this route get a glimpse of the Continenl as they pass along. We. tor example, London on Wednesday morning, were all Thursday in Paris, Hue night, and reached Marseilles about one in the afternoon of Friday. This is little, no doubt, yei the day in Paris and the general view of the country, including the picturesque towns of Nismee and Avignon, may be put in the balance against < ribraltar. We left Marseilles on the morning of the 20th of February, TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. 7 nut exchange my impressions of it, received during those silent watches, for the most accurate knowledge which could be obtained by daylight. Strange to say, I feel almost thankful thai my stay was .so short in this famous city of old knights and modern soldiers. 1 have no intention of turning' to any gazetteer or history of the knights of Malta to get up a description of its harbours, batteries, or ancient history. Any one wishing this sort of information may get it without going there. I am quite satisfied with what I learned from my midnight walk, while every one, tli e governor included, was in bed, except the sentries and a few policemen and houseless ragamuffins. The moon was shining " with the heavens all hare ;" every house revealed itself, not in the clearness of noonday, which would have been a defect, — few towns, and fewer men, being able to stand that sort of revelation, — but in the soft and subdued golden light of the lull moon which blended wonderfully with the limestone of which the island is composed. We walked up streets by long flights of stairs, admired the balconies, and the innumerable bits of pic- turesque architecture and varied outline that everywhere met the eye, and seemed so tasteful when compared with the pasteboard rows of our prosaic streets, which are built by contract and squeezed into stupid shape by our city authorities, who seem to think that the "orders" of architecture mean all houses being alike, as policemen are. We soon reached the side of the town which overlooks the great harbour; and though 1 have lost all memory of the names, if I ever heard them (which I no doubt did), of forts, streets, palaces, batteries, yet 1 never can forget the impression made by what Joseph Hume used to call "the tottle of the whole." Guided by our friend we wandered along battery upon battery, passed innumerable rows of big guns, which had pyramids of shot beside them, and which looked down white pre- cipices, as if watching the deep harbour which laved their base, and sorrowing that they had nothing to do. We saw torts,— forts EASTWARD. everywhere, forts on this side, forts on the other side, forts above as, and forts below us. We saw beneath us dark forms of line-of- battle ship-, like giants asleep, but ready in a momenl to wake an with their thunder. Yet we saw no signs of life in the silence of midnight except a few lights skimming across the deep black water below ; nor did we hear a sound except the song of the Maltese boatman who steered his gondola with its firefly lamp and the tread of the sentinel as his bayonet gleamed in the m i- and the sudden question issued from his English voice, "Who goes there?" We stood Inside noble palaces, formerly inhabited by the famous knights, every ornament, every coat of anas, distinct and clear as by day; and we thought well, never mind our sentimentalism. We stood beside the statue of the Great and erood Lord Hastings, and traced his silent features en us and the sky, which revived many thoughts in me of arliest and best friends. And thus we wandered until nearly three in the morning, in a sort of strange and mysterious dream- land ; and for aught thai appeared, the Grand Master and all his knights still pos — ed the island, and might be seen on the morrow's morn, — if we were disposed to wait for them,— watching a fleet of infidel Moslems in the distance, come to disturb their and the peace of Europe, if nol to destroy Christianity And we thought no matter, ye sturdy Protestants, we thought of these fine fellows! How thankful we were that all the shops were closed, where we might have been cheat) d by daylight; that priests, and friars, and nuns, and sea captains, and admirals, and all the puff ami parade, were snoring in their nightcaps. They would have, beyond doubt, destroyed the pleasing illusion. After buying some delicious oranges from ever-wakeful and bidding grateful farewell to our obliging guide, we returned to the VaUtta lull of thankfulness tor our midnight t<. Malta. We never wish to 3ee it again. We fear the daylight. TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. After leaving Malta we seemed to have entered another world. The sky was wiiliun! a cloud ; the sea was unruffled by the slightest breeze, and began to be coloured by that exquisite deep, lapis-lazuli-like blue which may be approached sometimes in our northern skies, bu1 never in our northern seas. Nothing could be more beautifu] than the play of the white foam as it Hew from the ship's Ix.w, or from her paddles, and fell like white pearls u] the glassy surface. I was reminded of a similar effect at the Falls of Niagara, produced by the sparkling foam as it ran up the smooth surface of the deep water, which like a huge green wheel of ocean rolled over the Table Rock. In both cases, the contrasl was beautiful in the extreme, — between the pure white and the indigo blue in the one instance, and the emerald sea- green in the other. During our short voyage to Alexandria shoals of dolphins rose alongside of us, while once or twice flying-fish were seen skimming the surface with silvery wings,— both features significant of a change in our latitude. Strange to say, our engine, which had stood so well throughout the hurricane, broke down in the calm on two occasions. My worthy friend the engineer accounted for this by savin-- "that it was entirely owing to the number of ministers on board, and nothing else. Nae engine," he added, with emphasis, '-could staun five o' ye; the best machines axe naething againsl ministers!" But making all allowance for our parson-power, the "good tool" had no doubi been wounded in the kittle w ith the storm. One other little fad 1 musl not omit to mention, as evidencing the distance to which fine substances can he wafted by the air. For two days, and when out of sighi of land, though our course ran nearly parallel to Africa, the weather rigging of the ship was all brown with fin.' sand, which adhered to the tar. And this was visible only on the side of the ropes next the desert And now tor a few .lays we felt the perfect repose and benefit c EASTWARD. To one who, Like myself, aever suffers from nausea even, it is the most perfect rest. The busy world, we know, is i very well without as, and so we determine to get on without it. The postman's knock belongs to another sphere of existence, and we hear it oo more, except as in a feverish dream. \ »hty gulf of deep water separates us from the world of letters, business, calls, meetings, appointments, committees, visits, and all like disturbers of selfish ease. We assume, being our- selves in robust health, that all our friends are in a like condition, an ,l are pleased to think that they lament our absence, hope to hear from us by the next mail, nod will be glad to have as home in ; while sometimes we cannot but regret, with a feeling which alarms our conscience, that we do not sufficiently respond to their anxieties. On ship-board, pleasure and necessity are one. \\\. cannot help being idle. We may possibly exert ourselves to play draughts or backgammon, but not chess— that requires thought. To read anything is an act of condescension, and no one thinks that his duty. In fact, the word "duty" seems con- fined to the officers and crew, including the steward. Those portions, too, of our life which on land are made subordinate to ,,„,,,. important thin;-, such as cur meals and sleep, at sea are made the leading events of the day. We retire at any hour to our cabin, sleep, read, meditate, as we please, and as long as we pi, ....... N,, one accuses us of sloth, and asks us to rise and take • : , constitutional." No one asks if we are ill— that is charitably taken for granted; the majority are surprised if we are well, and envy us. We are, moreover, not expected to speak to anyone, and if word- are exchanged they are understood, upon honour, 1,, be mere contributions to general happiness. The brain and memory i mpty themselves so completer) of all that has troubled ccupied them during previous periods of existence, that we i to begin lit- again as children, and to he amused with the in- trifles. Sensible men who. n tew weeks or even days before, were occupied with important affairs of Church or State, become interested in the cow <>n board, feel her horns, scratch the back of her cars; and beg for some crumbs of bread to feed the chickens. A dog on board becomes an institution. A sea-bird attracts every eye ; while a ship looming on the horizon makes all, who ran stand, come on deck and watch the approaching wonder, as the Ancient Mariner watched the mys- terious sail. Who, on shore, ever thinks of the longitude or latitude of his bouse ? Not one in fifty believes that it has either oue or other ; but at sea our position is known everyday at twelve o'clock ; and the spot upon the earth's surface which we at that moment occupy becomes a matter of serious speculation until dinner-time. We beseech wearied men never to visit Paris, to be baked on the Boulevards, sick of the Rue Rivoli, have their digestion destroyed by mushrooms and cockscombs at the Trois Freres ; nor to he pestered by guides, ropes, ladders, mules, or alpen- stocks, in walking across slippery glaciers, <>r down savage ravines in Switzerland; nor to be distracted by " Murray " in wandering from gallery to gallery, or from church to church in Italy; — but to launch upon the deep, get out of sight of land, and have their brains thoroughly invigorated by fresh air and salt-water. By the kind and cordial permission of the captain, I had a religious service with the men in the forecastle, as my custom has ever been when en a voyage. It had little formality in it: BOme Were in their hammocks, most were seated around on the "bunkers," and were dimly visible under the low deck, with the feeble lights. There is a reality in this easy and familiar way of addressing .lack, which is much more likely to do him good than tin- regular assemblage with Sunday dress in the cabin, when probably a Bermon is read tor the benefit of the educated pa-- ngers, which the crew take for granted is not expected to be understood by any one below the purser. In such cases they 1 VSTWARD. attend worship for the same reason thai they wash the decks or topsails- because they are "ordered." 1 would therefore earnestly beg of my respected brethren in the ministry to re- mem l ., .lack" when at sea, and never to imagine thai ,,- "cares for none of these things." Few audiences are more attentive, more willing to learn, or more grateful f^v s<> small a kindness. We are apt to forgot what these men endure for our sakes whal sacrifices are required by the necessities of their occupation, — what their sore temptations, and few advan- ■ d - The leasl we can do, when an opportunity offers itself, is to speak to them as to brethren, and to tell them of the love of a common Father and Saviour; and we knew not when the seed thus casl upon the waters may spring up. It may be in the hospital among strangers, or when pacing the deck al midnight, or when clinging to a plank for life, or even when going down '• with all hands." On the forenoon of Saturday, the 27th, we sighted Alexandria, first sign of nearing a new country from the sea, is generally the pilot-boat and its crew. With what interest do we Look over side of the ship, and watch the dresses and countenances of the first specimens of the tribe among whom we are to pitch our i, tits for a time ! The heat, with a Hag in its hew, which pulled ou1 to meet us from Alexandria, had a crew which were a fit introduction to the East, with their rough comfortable brown boat- and h Is, their petticoat-trousers, swarthy faces, and shining teeth. And as for " Master George " himself, the Egyptian pilot, as he stepped up the gangway to shake hands with his old friends, and take charge of the ship, he was, from toe to turban, a perfecl study for an artist. There is aothing at all remarkable in the view of Alexandria from the sea. Notwithstanding the white palace, the old summer- house of the Pasha, and other distinguished buildings, which are sure to be pointed out, the town Looks Like a Long horizontal streak TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA n of whitewash, mingled with brown, and crossed perpendicularly wit 1 1 the sharp lines of ships' masts. Bui a scene well worth noticing was the crowd of boats thai pressed around the ship to convey passengers to the shore, [magine thirty or forty such, with their nondescripl crews, crowding to the ship's side, ever) man on board of them appearing in a towering passion, and yelling as if in the agony of despair, and, with outstretched hands and flashing eyes, pouring forth a stream of guttural Arabic, thai seemed to the ear to be a whole dictionary of imprecations withoul a pauBe, and as far as one could judge, withoul a motive, unless it were thai they toot us for losl spirits claimable by the greatesl demon. The noise is great when Landing from a Highland steamer, and when Highland boatmen, the scum of the port, are contending for passengers or luffeacre. But without defending- the Gaelic as mellifluous, or the Highlanders as types of meekness, on such an occasion, yet in vehemence of gesticulation, in genuine power of lip and lung to till the air with a roar of incomprehensible exclamations, nothing on earth, so Long as the human body retains its presenl arrange- ment of muscles and nervous vitality, can surpass the Egyptians and their Language. [fthe Pyramids were built, as some allege they were, to preserve the inch as a measure of Length for the world, why should not the Sphinx have been raised, with her calm eye, dignified face, and sweet smile, even now breaking through her ruins Like sunlight through the crags, to be an everlasting rebuke to Eastern rage, and a lesson in stone exhorting to silence? Mv first day in the East stands alone in my memory, unap- proached by all I have ever seen It excited feelings of novelty and wonder which 1 tear can never be reproduced. I had ex- pected very little from Alexandria, and thought of it onlj as a place of merchandise, notorious for donkey-, donkey-boys, and Pompey's Pillar. But as soon as 1 landed. 1 realised at one the nee of a totally different world of human beings from any I l, ;i ,l seen before. The charm and fascination consisted in the total difference in every respect between Easl and West. I' ssing through the utter chaos, dilapidation, and confusion of the custom-house, and clambering over, as we best could, the innumerable bales of cotton, under the protection of the blue cloudless heavens, — winding our way among goods of every descrip- tion, and between barrels and hampers, amid the cries and d of the mixed multitude who crowded the wharves, tilled the boats, and offered themselves as porters, guides, and whatever else could command a backsheesh, we reached the outskirts of the custom- house, passed tin- officers, entered the bazaar, and had time to look around The first impression made upon a European is, as I have -ail. that In- has never seen anything at all like it. The shops, with various kinds of goods displayed behind a man who is seated cross- d. willing to sell them apparently as a favour, hardly attract the .ye any more than open cupboards would do. But the persons who crowd along the narrow lane — only look at them ! They are manifestly from all parts of the earth— Greeks, Turk-. Jews, Armenians, Hindoos, ('opts, Arabs, Nubians, Albanians, drunken .lack 'far-. English officers on the way to or from India. &c. With the exception of the Kuropeans, each man appears in his own distinct individuality of face and raiment. In America there is a Yankee type everywhere visible, with lips, uose, cheeks, ami hair, by no means romantic, though business-like ; in Russia there is a Muscovite type, which admits of little variety; and everywhere, from the Mississippi to the Volga, there is a certain uniformity of ■■rat all events of dress ; coats and trousers with buttons, long tail- or -hort tails,hats or caps, — a sort of Caucasian respectability. lint bere, each far. seems to stand alone. There are eyes and ind beards, colours of -kin. peculiarities of n the sly, the dignified, the rascally, the ignorant, the TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. savage, the refined, the contented, the miserable, giving each face its own distind place in the globe. And there is, if possible, a greater variety in costume. Every man seems to have studied his own taste, or his own whim, or, possibly, his own religion, in the shape, colour, and Dumber of liis garments. 'I'll'' jackets, the pelisses or dressing-gowns, the waistcoats, the petticoats, the inexpressibles, the sashes, the turbans, the headgear, each and ;ill are differenl in colour and in details of arrangement. The arms, whether dirk or dagger, single pistols or half a dozen, modern or as old as the invention of gunpowder, sword, gun, or spi each lias its own peculiar form ami arrangement, so thai every Eastern lias to a Western a aoveltj and picturesqueness which is indescribable. Ami the motley crowd presses along: fit. con- tented, oily Greek merchants, or majestic Turks, on lino horses splendidly qaparisoned, or on aristocratic donkeys, thai would despise to acknowledge as of the same nice the miserable creatures which bray in our coal-carts-; bare-legged donkey-boys, driving their more plebeian animals before them ; Arabs from the desert, with Ion-- guns and gipsy-like coverings, stalking on in silence; beggars, such as one sees in the pictures of the old masters — verily " poor and oeedy, blind and naked;" insane persons, with idioti,- look, ami a few rags covering their bronzed bodies, seeking .•dm-: Greek priests, Coptic priests, and Latin priests; doctors of divinity and dervishes; little dumpy women with their peculiar waddling gait, wrapl in white muslin sheets, their eyes only visible; and soaring over ;ill this strange throng are strings of camels, lank and lean, so patient-looking ami submissive, pacing on under their loads of cotton, with bent heads and sleepy eyes, their odd-looking drivel's mounted high above, rocking with thai peculiar motion which the camel's pace produces .-ill this, and infinitely more, formed a scene that looked like a fancy fair u"t up tor tin amusemenl of Strang Before leaving the bazaar, lei us look into this coffee-shop open EASTWARD. from the street. There is do ornament of any kind in it. oor does i, ;,;,,, ;it the magnificence and glitter seen in our whisky and gin shops at home— such palaces being unknown in the East. It is of the humblest description, having no ornament of any kind but a few mats on its floor and upon its raised dais. Capital is not required,— a little charcoal, a coffee-pot, and some coffee forming the whole stock in trade. Odd-looking, turbaned men, smoking their nargiles, are each a picture of quiet contentment. But the chief attraction to me was a blind man, who sat cross- ! on the dais, with a rude sort of fiddle, on which he played a monotonous accompaniment to his chant, resting perpendicularly on his knee. He was apparently an improvisatore, who had to think for a Little time before composing his verse, or more pro- bably he was only a reciter of old Arab poems. While chanting, and scraping on the fiddle, there was a smile of good humour on his face. No so sr were two or three linos repeated, than his audience exhibited the greatest satisfaction, and turned their eyes to a young man who sat on the opposite dais, quietly smoking,— a competitor, apparently, with the blind musician and ballad- singer. He seemed sometimes puzzled for a moment, as he blew a few rapid whiffs from his pipe, while the blind man listened with the greatest attention. But no soonerwas his response given than a general movement was visible among the auditor.-, who turned to the blind minstrel as if saying, " Match that, old fellow, if you call !" Along the whole bazaar there were little episodes of this sort, ating features of social life totally different from our own. lint my excellent friend the missionary of the < Ihurch of Scotland at Alexandria, who had come to meet n>. would not permit me to remain longer in the bazaar. He laughed heartily at my enthu- q ; assuring me that I would think nothing of all this by the time 1 i. a.-hed Damascus, and begged I would come away, as we musl have a drive ami see a few Bights before dinner; although, TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA. '7 to around mh the truth, I was much more pleased with the sorl of sights than with the prosped of beholding even P pey's Pillar. Obeying orders, we were soon in the square, or long paral- lelogram which forms the respectable pad of the town and where the chief hotels are situated; bul it bad no more Lnteresl for me than Euston Square. Nol so the drive. Soon after Leaving the hotel we were again in the East, with its dust, poverty, picturesqueness, and confusion. We visited an old Greek church, whirl, four years ago bad been excavated oul of a mass of debris. We gazed with interest upon it- walls dimly frescoed with Christian subjects, and looked into its .lark burial vaults, and thoughl of the Alexandrian school, and of those who had worshipped, probably more than a thousand years ago, in this old edifice. We passed lines of camel- hair tents perched upon a rising ground and occupied by the Bedouin, whohad come from the desert perhaps to buy or to sell; we passed the brown clay huts of the Fellaheen, with their yelling dogs and naked children; we passed crowds of donkeys bearing water-skins, resembling black pigs that had been drowned and were oozing with water; we saw with delight that feature of the K.-ist -groves of palms (needing no glass to cover them) drooping their feathered heads in the sunny sky; we stood where many generations had stood before, beneath what is called Pompey's Pillar, and repeated the speculations of past ages as to bow it could have been meted there, what a glorious portico that musl have been of which it had fennel a unit, and what a magnificenl temple it musl have adorned. We then returned to the square from which we had started, feeling more and more thai we were in a lKW world. One or two other sights added to our enjoymenl of this 6rsl day i,, the East. One was a bare-legged syce with Bilver-headed cane, who flew along, like an ostrich, to clear the way for the curia-' of hia noble Jewish master and mistress, and to announce their augusl presence, while they reclined in their handsome chariot, EASTWARD. driven by a Nubian charioteer, with comfortable satisfaction in their look, such as their ancestors manifested when, in the same country long ago, they enjoyed leeks and garlic, wishing for little l„ tter. Another sight was a funeral, in which the body was carried on a bier, preceded, as the custom is. by blind men, and followed by relatives, and women as hired mourners who did their duty wdl. giving loud lamentations for their money. And another was a marriage procession, in which the bridegroom was going for his bride with lanterns and wild Turkish screaming instruments intended to represent music. And having seen all this we joined European society at the fable d'hdte at a late hour, and fell again into the old grooves of modern civilisation. After dinner, the conversation in the smoking-room turned upon the state of the country. There was an eager inquirer, with note-book in hand, who cross-questioned a few witnesses who were lolling about the window, and seemed disposed to answer his queries. The most ready replies won- given by two persons, the one with a red nose, and the other with a squint. Inquirer asks :—" What sort of man is the Pasha?" He had been given to understand in London that he was a wide-awake, spirited gentleman, and thoroughly alive to the benefits of com- merce and free trade, &c. Red Nose Mows two or three whiffs, and mutters, "A thorough scoundrel !' Having gathered force to enlarge upon his text, he adds, •■ You know, all ' the powers that he' in this land are scoun- drels; you cannot believe what anyone says. It' he speaks the truth, it is either in mistake, or because he can make more by it than by lying. Bribery and corruption are the rule from the Pasha to the donkey-boy. The great king in the country, upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber, is backsheesh" Silence reigns, and all the witnesses seem to agree on this point. Red Nose, encouraged, proceeds, being stimulated by the demand from Inquirer for an illustration. TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA 19 "Last year, this admirable Pasha— this eastern merchant-sold the 6rst cotton he should bring into Alexandria, thai is, bis firsl crop to the bouse of - - and Co. at a certain price. Cotton m the meantime rose, and the Pasha sold his crop at an advanced price to another house; and being challenged for his breach of contract, he defended himself upon the ground that his bargain was to sell the first cotton brought mto Alexandria, whereas tins had been delivered at the station outside of Alexandria, !' Several declared this to be a fact beyond all dispute "The truth is," remarked another party, " nothing can exceed the ill-usage of the English by the Egyptian authorities. Our Consul good man though he be, is too soft, too easy, and too much of a gentleman for them. It is not so with the French. A com- plaint made at the French consulate is immediately attended to, and the power of France is brought down upon the Turks at once. With the English Government, through their Consul, the Pasha is approached with < Please be so good, your highness, as to consider this or that;' but with the French, the word of command goes forth < This must be done, sir ! or we shall pull down our flag. « It is quite possible," said the stranger, who was swinging in a chair and whose face was nearly concealed by an immense beard, bu1 w ho had a rather remarkable expression of intelligence-" it is quite possible that there is a good deal of bullying on the part of both the great powers ; but I am also disposed to think that it the consuls would tell their side of the story, they could say some- thing about the bullying of the merchants also. I have been knocked about a good deal in foreign ports, though I neither buy qot sell, and 1 have everywhere noticed a habit on the part ot many .vsident merchants, of great respectability too, and amongst Qone more than my countrymen the English, of treating the native powers with proud contempt, and of showing verv little respect for their nati on;d laws, their feelings, or even religious customs, when these threaten to stand in the waj of their becoming rich. Their EASTWARD. idea seemed to be that Providence had sent them abroad for the sole purpose of making money by good means, bad means, any means, but to make it by all means, and as rapidly as possible. It' any difference arises between them and the native government, the poor Consul, forsooth, is told to poke up the British Lion, and make him roar. And I have also noticed, that our Englishmen have, in many cases, far less respect for their religion, though it be true, than the heathen have for theirs, though it be false." " How so ? " inquired the man with the squint, as if he had been in the habit of looking at a question from all sides. " Why/' replied Long Beard, " last Sunday, for example, I noticed many vessels from England loading and unloading, and 1 was told that this was done in some cases by command of the captains, and in others by the imperative orders of the com- mercial houses at home. This is the sort of way British Christians — British Protestants — often witness for their religion among Turks and heathen No wonder missionaries often labour in vain, when they are practically opposed by so many careless professing Christians." " I '11 bet a dollar that you are a missionary ! " cried Red Nose, taking his cigar out of his mouth, and looking inquisitively towards the stranger. "It i- quite unnecessary to risk your money, for I gladly admit the fart.'' "Whew!" remarked Red Nose, mysteriously, "that accounts for it ! " "Accounts for what ?" inquired the missionary. "Oh, Dothing in particular:" replied Red Nose, breaking off. " I don't like disputes about religion." At'tf Egypt. It was many years since we had met the genuine mosquito; hut who that has once experienced it, can forget the nervous shuck which runs through the body when his sharp "pin-" is heard close to the ear as he blows Ids trumpet tm- battle ! To open the net curtains in order to drive a single enemy out, is probably to let a dozen in; and once they are in, how difficult to discover the aerial imps! and, when discovered, how difficult to gel at them : and when all this labour has been gone through, and the curtains are again tucked in, and every crevice closed, and tin- fortress made secure, and the hope indulged that the enemy has fled, and the sweet feeling of unctuous repose again mesmerises soul and body— O horror to hear again at both ears " ping, ping-ing '. " On this first night we did battle with intense energy and bravery against one intruder, and having slain him we were at peace ; but then came the barking of the dogs — those ceaseless serenaders of Eastern cities, of which more anon — and then sleep as deep as that of Cheops * * Sir Appendix No. I. II. CAIKO AND THE PYRAMIDS. L\ writing about Alexandria, I hardly alluded to the state of Christian missions or of the Christian Church in that city. And should any reader look for information on these matters respecting any of the places we visited, he will, I am bound to say, be dis- appointed, lint lit not my silence be misinterpreted. It does not v.rily. from forming a low estimate, but rather a high one, of the importance of such inquiries. For a long and somewhat varied experience has taughl me the extreme difficulty of ascer- taining tacts on a subjed involving so many nice and delicate questions as the actual state of any mission, whether to Jew or Gentile. And having had, in the limited period to which 1 was compelled u> confine my journey, neither the time nor opportunity sary for inquiry, I feel thai it would probably do more harm than good were I to give an opinion on such matters. It is possible that, with this explanation, I may record impressions made upon me by missionary operations, hut I will not attempt to do more. L refuse to he cited by any party as a competent witm Although Alexandria is the starting-point for Palestine (our ultimate destination), y< t who could be in it withoul seeing Cairo 1 and who could be in Cairo without seeing the Pyramids, and a the usual round of travellers, since the Deluge, or there- abouts 1 and who, being in Cairo, could omil a visrl to the Red Sea I- all of which we did, greatly wishing that we could have visited Sinai also, and not stopped, like Pharaoh of old, with the CAIRO AND '111 i: I'Y RAM IDS. 23 greatest reluctance by the sea. In a few pages of easy talk 1 will tell what we saw al < lairo, " It is a moighty queer thing entirely, you may depend," said an Irishman, "to gel a railway ticket, in Turkish or Arabic, [ don'1 know which. All I know is, thai though I oan read Erish I can't read them characters like what a hen would write !" So we fell with Pat at tli<' railway station of Alexandria, en route to Cairo. One's ideas about Egypt are made somewhat prosaic by a railway. The familiar whistle, with its impatient screech, which has now for pears keen a sort of European music, does no1 3eem to har- monize with the Pharaohs. All the plastic power of fancy cannot cram Rameses the Great, or a member of any of the ten thousand dynasties, into a first class; nor realize the possibility of Senna- cherib booking himself with his Assyrian staff for Memphis. It is net so, however, with the Jew, older than either. We saw many of them in the third class, and it seemed a quite natural position for this wandering and immortal tribe, who have had experience of every kind of locomotion, from the time they journeyed from Egypt to < lanaan until the present daw The Delta, as a shoreless ocean of flat, rich land, presented no feature to us of greateT interest than a similar expanse of culti- vated loam in England, Belgium, or anywhere else. But there ever and anon appeared those unmistakable signs of the old I which linked us to the past and belong not to modern Europe, on which we had now turned our backs. There were, of course, the graceful palms and other trees of Eastern foliage fringing the horizon and reposing in the calm delicious air. There were camels ploughing— a combination, h\ the way, which seemed to me as unnatural as a pig in harness; for though the creature submitted with patient dignity to the drudgery.il had nevertbe- the leek of an tipper servant out of plaa an old huntsman or whipper-in of a gallant pack driving a coal-cart It was never intended that this great thirstl bstainer for days EASTWARD. from water . who can pace with his noiseless feet, as if in thick stockings, through the desert, and encounter sandstorms and every sort of horror, wand< t among the rocks of Sinai, go a long pilgrim- age to Mecca, or enjoy Arabia Felix, — it was never intended that he should be reduced to do horse, donkey, or ox work, with the plough following Li- little brush of a tail across the Delta. The ox, if for n<> other reason than the base idolatries occasioned by his ancestors, should alone be doomed to drudgery like this. But we were told that 800,000 (yes, these are the figures) of horned cattle and horses had been cut off by murrain in Egypt ; and that may account, though 1 don't believe it fully does, for the transformation of the uoble "ship of the desert" into a wretched plough tug of the Delta. A- we passed along at a slow rate, yet by no means a smooth one, for a rougher railway we never travelled by, we saw other symptoms of a very differenl life from what we had been accus- tomed to : — such as the brown, dusty, crumbling, poverty-stricken, mud villages, built upon mounds of rubbish to keep them out of the inundation, with their squalid hovels, whitewashed mosques, and odd-looking inhabitants — male and female ; and the pigeon villages, where those' birds are reared in flocks for the market, their nests being clay pots built into a peculiarly-shaped second Btory with square walls inclining- inwards, like the old Egyptian buildings. We also passed half-naked men, swinging between them, with regular motion, a sort of basket by which they raised water from a ditch on a lower level to one on a higher, which dis- tributed it over the whole field. We also passed water-mills for the same purpose, turned by oxen, camels, or horses; and fre- quently we passed Mussulmans at their devotions — ay, thai is worth our pausing to notice once for all ! How- far .Mahometans observe the orthodox number of times for five a d.-i\ . I do not knew : nor yet what proportion the tional class hears to the indifferent. The fact, however, is CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. ,,.,,,.,,, to every one who travels in the East thai prayer is offered U p ;,, every place no1 m the mosque only, bu1 in the field, pn the ship's deck, in the shop, and amidsl the confusion and bustle of the railway station. When one sees for the first time a man in a public place or in the middle of a field suddenly drop down to the ground, one is apl to think thai be has been seized by a tit, until the tart dawns, from tin' regularity of his motions, that he is per- ,.:. - ,,i Hi. Mahometan during hlu Devotion* forming some duty. Thr worshipper goes aboul it in the mosi methodical manner. Ee Bpreads his carpet on the ground, if he has one, an. I then, as sailors would say, takes thr bearings oi Mecca, towards which he prays. This adjustment of his body, not to speak of his soul, is sometimes not easy, especially on ship- board, when thr vessel's course is constantly changing. In such he consults his fellow-believers, who will often gather round him, and suggesl what in their opinion ia the right point of the compass to which t.. direct his eyes. This being determined, he i: 26 EASTWARD. first of all, whether on Land or on shore, stands upright with eyes open ; then, after meditating for a moment, puts a thumb close to each ear, .nets his fingers fan-like, and prays in silence. It is unnecessary to record all bis subsequent acts — the bending down and touching the ground with his nose ami forehead, the rising up ami crossing his hands over his girdle, the kneeling, the sitting upon his heels, the rising up again, et cetera Scrupulous care is taken as to the relationship of one toot to another, of the right hand to the h'l't, a- to tin- exact spot for the forehead and nose to touch tin' earth, with their distance from the soles of the feet; ami many other " bodily exercises." The prayers, we were given to understand, are all of a stereotyped form, and consist of con- fessions, and short sentences acknowledging the greatness and attributes of Deity, with episodes regarding the authority of Ma- homet. What strikes one is the .serious, abstracted countenance of the worshipper, which seems to be unaffected by anything taking place around him any more than if he were alone in the desert It is reckoned a great sin to disturb a man at his devotions. One of the next reverential worshippers we saw, whoso very beard seemed to be an Eastern religion embodied in hair, was an old man on the deck of an Austrian steamer. It was some weeks Liter in our tour, but we may do honour to the respected devotee now. One of our companions, always full of the "charity which believeth all things,"' directed my attention to the reverence of the man. Then began, as often happens in such cases, a dis- cussion regarding the different outward circumstances in which piety ni;i\ exist and manifest itself, like light in the midsl of darkness or like ;i plant glowing under a stone, which ended with sundry speculations ;i- to the mysterious connection between devoteeism and devilry— mere forms of religion without religion itself. We all agreed, however, that this person seemed to !»• ,,\ the tine sort, sincere and honest, though ignorant. So ( \| RO AN I) III E l'\ RAM I I ) S. 27 when be rose from his knees we were disposed to be very civil to him, and lenl bim a binoculaT glass to studj the landscape, with which be was greatly delighted. Bui the g 1 old man stole the -lass, and it was only recovered after a search by the steward in his travelling bundle, where it was wrapped up in an old sheepskin. He seemed quite aware of the theft, and skulked off, not without fear of subsequent punishment, which, however, was not inflicted. He was a thorough type of formalism. But to return to our railway journey. By far the most notable objects we saw before reaching Cairo were two grey triangles rising over some palms to the south, and piercing, wedge-like, the blue sky : they were the Pyramids. We reached Cairo in the evening, in time to enjoy a golden sunset with burnished clouds vising from the horizon of the Delta to the zenith. Except in peculiar circum- stances, such as the presence of snowy peaks or masses of ice to reflect the light, sunsets increase in splendour with an advance to the north. Those of St. Petersburg are unsurpassed. The finest 1 ever saw at Venice even, were far interior to them in brilliancy and variety of colour. We went of course to Shepherd's Hotel. To get clear oi the railway terminus, however, was by no means easy. The crush of donkey-boys, omnibuses, carriages, and camels, with the crowd ot nondescripl characters, raised such a storm of sound and such clouds of dust and of doubt, as made the " situation" tor a momenl bewildering. But once in the hotel, we are again in Europe. "Shepherd's" is a huge barrack in an open space, with trees and gardens in front. No position could be more agreeable. It has before the doer an elevated verandah, approached by a few steps on each side, and forming quite a drawing-room tent in the open air. Within the hotel is a handsome dining-hall, and in the stories above there are broad stone-flagged passages or corridors, which seem to be infinite, and to go round the world ; and opening from these corridors are bedrooms numerous enough to accommo- 28 EASTWARD. ilat.- all travellers, with room to spare for mosquitoes and other more permanent lodgi re, though these were by no means troublesome. The verandah at Shepherd's had its own story to tell, and any man could read it. It is the Isthmus of Suez od a small scale — a traveller's link between India and Europe, with the addition of a ^uare yards which serve as a platform to connect the invalid homes of the cold north with the heating breath of the gonial south. Here one meets young lads who have passed their exa- mination at Addiscombe, dressed up a I" mode, from canvas shoes to cambric-covered hats. They are, upon the whole, nice, clean-looking fellows, with a gentlemanly bearing about them, and an innocent puppyism, pipe included, which ceases in the eye of charity to ho offensive on the verge of the real difficulties in life, which one knows they are about to encounter. Who would refuse a pipe or a snuff to a man before his going into battle ? But what care these boys for having home! "Ain't it jolly?" No! my boys; I know better, "it ain't jolly," but. as you would say, ly." In spite of all your pluck, I know you have just written to your fathers or mothers with a tear which you would be ashamed to confess, hating to bo thought "muffs." You have forced your- selves to d( clare, for their sakes, "how very happy you aie ;" yet vou would give worlds to be back again for an hour ev< n at home : and would hug the old .log. and almost kiss the old butler. I'll : that merry lad with blue eyes and fair hair, has written to hi- sister Charlotte, who is watching tor the mail, telling her to k< ep up her heart, for he will very soon be able to return on Leave. And he- ha- .-.nt ;i single line to .lack, tolling him that he may have il).- use of all his bats and guns, and fishing-rods, and what- ever he ha- left behind him ; for though he had his little tiffs with .Jack ;.t heme. Jack, in -pite of his this or that, seems now perfec- tion in his brother's memory. And the lad also begs to be remem- bered, in ;. quiet, confidential way, to a certain young lady whom ashamed to name, hut whom he verily believes will never CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 29 marry another, but wait his return from [ndia ! God Mess the boys! and bring them out of fever and gun-shot "wounds to the old folks at home. MLeeting these fresh boys from the West are worn-out, sallow- complexioned veterans returning from the East. Among them are men whose fame is associated only with the dangers of sport with tigers and wild hoars, or with the gaieties of the station. But just as likely among those quiet-looking gentlemen may he more than one who has governed a province as large as England, and been a king in the East, and been almost worshipped by wild tribes whom he has judged in righteousness and ruled with cle- mency. And they are returning to a country where old friends, who parted from them full of life and hope, are long ago buried ; and they will visit " the old home" no more, for it is in the hands of strangers ; while such of them as are bachelors will henceforth be frequenters of Oriental clubs, and be known as " old Indians," who are supposed to be peculiar and crotchety. There are few nobler gentlemen on earth, after all, than these same " old In- dians !" Look at those two fine specimens with pith hats, brown faces, and long grey moustaches ! They are very silent, and look sometimes as if very sulky; but their hearts are sound, though their livers are the reverse ; and I respect even their growls, that seem to me like harmless thunder, without lightning, after a long sultry day. Slowly swinging in that easy-chair is a young man with a pale face and hard cough, while a meek, sweet-looking young woman — his sister, evidently — is reading to him. Near to them is an elderly man, equally feeble, with daughters, as angels, ministering to him. How one sees home friends perusing the letters from siuh groups, telling their anxious friends that they are " much better," and begging the mother, or sister, or children, to "hope for the best," for " Egypt is such a good climate, and .lames, or papa, or sister Mary, is .so good and patient." Health to them ! 3 o LAST WARD. Along with those are other sheep in this " Shepherd's " fold — n u mi of cotton and meu of iron, who possibly may be sheep only in their <-l. shortly after reached the bank of the old river, which swept swiftly on with its brown muddy-looking water. Map ol the Pyramid Field In 1 g | pi The firsl vievs of the Nile bere was to me Bingularly enjoyable. Indeed the firsl view of a greal historical river is always must EASTWARD. interesting. It is one of those features of a country which is as unchangeable as the mountains, and is always associated with its history as the permanent highway of .-ill generations, requiring qo repair and incapable of decay. And here was the Nile! It is one of the locks of snowy hair on the old head of the world. Reminiscences began to crowd upon the, mind, from Mioses to Captain Speke; and one ever and anon wished to convince himself of the tact that tins was really the ancient river of history. Wt all the objects which met the eye and tilled in the view were appropriate. There were picturesque boats and palm-trees on the further shore, and over them were the grey Pyramids rearing their heads a tew miles off. What more could we ask to make up a real Egyptian landscape in harmony with one's ideal? After crossing the ferry and traversing a flat plain on the western shore, with villages and groves of palm-trees, we reached at last an open space with nothing between us and the Pyramids. Th.- first thin-- which strikes one is, not their size, for that cannot be measured by the eye, but the high platform on which they stand. Ii is about 130 feet above the level of the green flat of the Delta, and in the midst of a pure sandy desert, "I never thought tiny were among the sand or so high up: did you?" " I thought they would have looked far larger: did not you?" "Where in the world is the Sphinx ? " " There she is ! " "What! that little round hall rising above the sand?" These arc the sort of ques- tions or replies which one hears, if anything he spoken at all, as In- moves towards those venerable mound.-. Wo found the strip of land which separates the Pyramids from the green valley to he much broader than it at first seemed. Jt waa thus we]| on in the day when we reached our destination, and the heat was consequently greater than we had made up our minds for. We made tor the Sphinx first, and went round and round her. She appeared like ,-, huge boulder rising out of the sand. 1 did all in my power to realise the calm majesty, the dignity CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 33 serenity, el cetera, of that strange creature's expression; l>ui I gave it up in despair. She seemed to me to be an Egyptian Mrs. Conrady, whom no power could invest with beauty. 1 envy those who can enjoy her smiles. She may have been a theological Venus in the days of the patriarchs ; but a most gigantic small- pox from the battering rams of Cambyses, or the fierce anger of some invader, lias destroyed the smoothness of her skin. I regret my insensibility to her charms, but I can't help it. She is still a riddle to me. We also visited here a tomb or temple, I forget which, called "Campbell's," in honour of my excellent cousin, Colonel Peter Campbell of Duntroon (how we Highlanders cling to cousinship when it is respectable!), once consul in Egypt. It is buried in sand, except where the descent into its interior has been cleared. The huge stones of beautifully polished granite with which it is formed throughout, and which are so exquisitely fitted into each other, are very striking. There are two rows of granite pillars aboui twenty feet high. Some of the smooth blocks of granite in the w,dl are thirteen feet long, by five broad, and four thick. Travellers who have visited the great temples of the Nile would overlook such a small affair as this ; but compared with our Euro- pean buildings or modern Egyptian ones, it is Cyclopean, and made ns feci that " They dreamt not of a perishable home Who thus could build." The nearer we approached the Great Pyramid, the more it rose upon us as a revelation of majesty and power. When it was pro- posed to me to ascend it, I agreed as a matter of course ; and when one of our party kindly hinted at the difficulty, I looked up to the artificial molehill, and swaggering aboui my exploits on Highland and Swiss untains, I expanded my chest, drew myself upright, and pitied the scepticism of my fellow-traveller. The offer of the F $4 EASTWARD. Arabs to help me up, I rejected with a smile of quid assurance and contempt. Walking along the base of the structure, which med interminable, we got upon the first ledge, and began the ascent. Half-a-dozen bare-armed, lightly-clad, dark-complexioned, white-teethed children of the desert surrounded me — measuring me with their eyes, and jabbering irreverently in Arabic, about my size, I believe: but they ended by volunteering their assistance. Their speech was interlarded with the one word, which constantly occurs and forms an important portion of the language of Modern Egypt and Canaan — backsheesh. 1 begged them courteously to leave me : and with an elasticity remarkable to no one but myself I mounted the first step. Having done so, I felt entitled to pause and breathe; for this first step -..med to he a five-feet wall of limestone. To my amazement I found another before me, and another, and another, each of which I climbed, with the assistance, I confess, of the Arabs— two before and three behind— but with a constantly diminishing sense of strength, and an increasing anxiety to know when I should reach those short, easy steps which I had been gazing at from below. I was told that the steps to the sum- mit were all like those I had passed, but I was also told not to be discouraged thereby, as, by hard work, I should be a good way up in half-an-hour ; and once up I could rest, so as to be tit for the descent, which after all was the real difficulty ! I gazed up to a series of about 200 stone walls, which, after reaching to an eleva- tion of L20 feet higher than the ball of St. Paul's, were lost at last i" the blue sky, and I looked down half-dizzy to the base beneath ni '; The 11,xt w;i11 above me was somewhere about my chest or chin! So meditating upon the vanity of human wishes, upon the I— to my parish so argued the flesh) by a vacancy, upon the lnhere n1 excellence of humility, tin- folk of pride and of sinful ambition, J then, in a subdued but firm to,,,., declared that no arguments with which J was then acquainted would induce me to ' yard higher. I pleaded principle, but strengthened my con- CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 35 victions by pointing to the burning sun and the absence <>i a ladder. Bidding therefore farewell to my companions, who went up those giant stairs, I begged my clamorous guides, who clung around, to Leave me until they returned. The obvious terror of the Arabs was that they would Lose their pay; but I mustered breath enough to say in the blandesi manner, " Beloved friends and fellow-labourers! sons of the deserl ! followers of the false prophet ! Leave me ! go round the corner. I wish to meditate upon the past : depart !" And then 1 emphatically added," Backsheesh, backsheesh,, backsheesh! Yes!" They seemed to understand the latter part of my address, held up their fingers ami responded, •' Backsheesh '. yes ! " I bowed, " ( tood ! " They replied, " We are satisfied!" and vanished. And so they loft me some twenty steps up the Pyramid, and Looking towards Ethiopia and the sources of the Nile I was thankful for the repose. One had time to take in the scene in quiet, and to get a whiff from the inexhaustible past in that wondrous spot. The Arabs away, everything was calm as the grave, except for the howls of a wandering jackal that, like a speck, was trotting away over the tawny sand beneath mo. As to what one's thoughts are in such a place, I believe they are very different from those which one would anticipate, or which are suggested by memory in seclusion afterwards. Instead of receiving present impressions, we possibly try to pump up emotions deemed suitable to the occasion. We gaze upon the mountain of stone around us, on the Sphinx at our feet, and 0B the green valley of the Nile; we recall early readings about the wonders of the world, of travels in Egypt, and stories of the big Pyramid; and we ask, "Are we really here? Are these the things which stirred our hearts lone- ago?" And then trying possiblj to gauge the depth., of time since these Pyramids were erected, we place historical mile-stones a few centuries apart, putting the first down at the period of the Reformation, then Ibeein« un to the Crusades, the decline and tall of the Roman 36 EASTWARD. Empire, the Old Testamenl times, those of Joseph and his brethren, until we reach Abraham. We then look at the big stones aboul us and say, "These wore placed here long before Abraham!' Then we begin to ask, "Who built them? whal were they buill for? and who on earth was Cheops?" And then possibly some shells in the limestone attract the eye, and we ask, "When were the occupants of these alive?" And we thus get past Adam and Eve, into the infinite cycles of geologists, until at last the chances are thai one gets so bewildered and dreamy that he slides into a speculation as to whether "Shepherd" has packed any soda water or pale ale for lunch, for it is very hot ; or mutters with Byron, " Let not a monument give you or me hopes, Since not a pinch of dust remains of < 'limps ! " It is, after all, very humiliating to think how a slight pain in foot or head, a disagreeable argument, a hot sun. a stubborn donkey, a scratch on the nose, or some trifle, will affect the whole Landscape, however grand. I will back a " corn," or a had tooth, to destroy the glory of the past or present, and reduce all other thoughts to one burning sensation of intolerable pain! \ •. confessedly few can escape in such circumstances an awed feeling of vast and unknown antiquity, or fail to hear taint echoes from the tide of human life that chafed against these immortal walls before history began. I doubt not a great part of the charm which fascinates us in such scenes arises from the consciousness of human brotherhood which all historical countries -t of the existence Ion-- since of beings like ourselves — men who planned and laboured, lived and died, thousands of years ago, hut are yet alive somewhere, and with whom, could they onlv start into lite now, we wculd he able to sympathise. After all. persons are the lite of this world, and a personal God the life of tin ■ univi CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 37 Before descending from my elevated seal Lei me poinl ou1 more U II V the relationship of the Pyramids to the vallej of the Nile, and to Cairo, Imagine the Delta to be, whal it often i a all( l the valley of the Nile a narrow strail bounded on the easl B id e by low deserl limestone hills, and on the west by an elevated ridge of tawny sand. At the entrance of the strail is Cairo on one side, with its clustering monuments in the sun-light, and on the opposite side are the Pyramids, elevated on a beach of genuine deserl sea-shore-sharply separated from the high-tide mark of the inundation. While Leaving the Pyramid, the famous passage from dear old Si,- Thomas Browne's "Chapter on Mummies" came to my memory:— "Time sadly overcometh all things, and is now domi- nant, and sitteth on a Sphinx, and Looketh .mm Memphis and ,,1,1 Thebes; while Lis sister Oblivion reclineth semi-somnous on a Pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making puzzles of Titanian erections, and turning old glories into dreams. History sinketh beneath her cloud. The traveller as he paceth amazedly through those deserts asketh of her, Who built them? And she mumbleth sometliing, but what it is he knoweth oo1 I" Here 1 oughl perhaps to insert a chapter about the Greal Pyramid, with information derived at second hand from the circulating 0] more recondite Library; for at 6rs1 hand I know Q othing aboul it, excepl what 1 have revealed. Bui Lei me in- form a certain excelled Lady, in reply to a question which she put to me, and others probably, Like her, whose readings on Egyptian antiquities are doI more extensive than my own, thai the steps I have spoken of are nol inside, bu1 outside the Pyramid; and thai when buill these Ledges were all covered bo as to presenl a si th surface of polished marble, which has be. ,, stripped off by sundry Caliphs, and made use of in other buildin Let me also remind those who have forgotten their geography, 38 EASTWARD. that this big Pyramid is aboul 480 feel high, and thai its base covers thirteen acres. It is not, however, hollow, but a solid mass of stone, with the exception of one or two small chambers in the interior, reached by passages, opening from one side, and widening to a more roomy corridor before reaching the centre, where the celebrated stone coffer lies. As to the use of the Great Pyramid — for there are dozens of smaller ones in the land — that is ;i question not yet settled. But it was not built for a tomb, nor l. Entrant e. 2. Well. 3 ' rridor. ». uuainber with Porphyrj Coffer, ... Air Passages for astronomical purposes, nor for idolatrous worship. A theory started by tin- late Mr. .John Taylor, and expounded at length by the Astronomer Royal for Scotland, Professor C. Piazzi Smyth — to whose book we refer the reader* — seems highly probable, it' the data on which it is founded are correct. The theory is, thai it was a greal national or world standard of weights and measures of every kind, founded mi an exacl knowledge of the axis of rotation of the globe; thai in this big cairn are * " Our Inheritance in the Greal Pyramid." London: Stratum. 1864. CAIRO AND I II 1- PYRAMIDS. 39 measures of length marked off, the anil of which is one inch, or -yo-ooioTnro of the earth's axis of rotation; thai the porphyry coffer in the centre is a standard grain measure or chaldron, holding I" a fraction four of our English quarters, or 70,982 English cubic inches; and thai there are also subdivisions of the year into months, weeks, and days, "checked off," in the grand gallery Leading to the coffer, with sundry other details which we cannol enter on. The Astronomer Royal has jusl been a1 the Pyramid, and we hope very soon to know the resull bis measurements and investigatioas. X,, eV en1 occurred worth recording on our return journey, excepl the fall of my donkey— if thai bas any interesl to the intelligent public. 'Hi'' evenl Beemed to be of greal personal interesl to the worthy animal, and excited in me a certain sense of undignified bewilderment, producing sensations which reminded me of early days, and also of increasing infirmities. The transition was sudden and odd, from dreaming about the Pharaohs and the Exodus, to finding one's-self Lying beside an ass in tin- mud of the Delta. The animal seemed to take his fall as a matter of course. T presume it was a sorl of duty which 1,,. often imposed upon himself on this route, as a Last resource to obtain relief from an extra Load. After his resl he j on, like Peter Bell's donkey, with perfecl ease and unfaltering Btep. Nexl day wo visited Eeliopolis. The ride to it through the country is mosl pleasant, with the green fields, palms, acacia, and Bycamore trees, and springs of water and water-milla On reaching it, one sees little with the outer eye, excepl a granite obelisk with sharply-cul hieroglyphics, standing in an open space of tilled fields, which arc surrounded by mounds and walls of brick, in which the chopped strcro that was mixed with the clay is N ,. t visible. Bui Joseph— thai noblesl of men— married a daughter of the parish minister of Eeliopolis; and Plato — 4 o K AST WARD. that great orb of thought — studied at this primeval Oxford. Can any man paint in words the thoughts suggested by such facts I That obelisk was raised one hundred years before Joseph was bora. Herodotus saw it when he came to this old university to get information aboul Egypt. The Pyramids, older still, rise like mountains in the horizon beyond ! Near this is shown the tree under which the Virgin reposed on her flight to Egypt with her Sou. It was probably planted centuries afterwards. What of that? One rejoiced to lie, for the first time in his life, on the traditional track even, of these wonders which fill the earth, and of facts which transcend fiction. During those short expeditions around Cairo we were, of course, accompanied by our donkey boys, d> take charge of their steeds, and belabour or lead them, as required, -nil being under the command of Hassan. These hoys were with us during three days, under ;i hoi sun from morning till evening, running and jabbering along the dusty highway like fiibberty-gibbets ; yet though pressed to eat a portion el' our Lunch — offered by us from sheer pity lor their wants — they steadily refused, simply saying, " Ramadan ! Ramadan!" It was the annual Mahometan Fast, and no hotter proof could he afforded of the strictness with which it is kept by the mass of the people. Their principles are not true, but they are true to their principles. They cannot be blamed tor citing with an appetite the moment the sun goes to bed, hut must he praised for their self-denial during the day. We may safely conjecture regarding them, as an oddity of ,-i Scotch preacher once did of the Pharisee who boasted that he fasted twice a week, " I'll wager he made up for it during the other days!" But I dare say these supple, all-skin-and- whipcord boys, never enjoyed what a voracious Westerner of the Bame class would call " ;i blow-out." l^t us to the Bazaars. A walk of a quarter of an hour across the open space before the hotel and through nameless streets BTEEET SCENE IN CA11C0. CAIRO A\H THE I'Y K.\ M IDS. 4' with little interesl Bave to the Franks, brings us into those crowded arcades of merchandise. They are broader, bigher, more aristocratic, and richer than those of Alexandria, and arc the must picturesque we have seen Not so out-and-oul Oriental, critics say, as those of Damascus, but, to a stranger who cannol ,1, .,,.,.) the true signs of genuine Orientalism, they arc fully more interesting. They arc partially covered at the top with matting or palm-leaves, to keep oul the glare of the sun :m ,l to produce coolness. Every trade has its own "location," and birds of a feather here floci together, whether gunsmiths, butchers, coppersmiths, or shoemakers, dealers in soft goods or hardware, pipes or tobacco, horse-gear, groceries, carpets, or c nitcci ions. The people who crowded these bazaars, in their various costumes of many colours, are always a source of intense interest. The most striking points in the buildings are the balconies, which in sun,,- cases almost meet from opposite shies of the street: hut there is an endless variety of quaint tumble-down bits of architecture, with fountains, and gateways shutting in the different quarters, while the mosques, with their high walls and airy minarets, overlook all. Ever and anon we saw visl along narrow crowded lanes, and views into back courts and caravanserais, with such groupings of men and camels, merchants and slaves, horses and donkeys, Bedouins and Nubians, mingled with such brillianl colours from Persian carpets and shawls, such bright lights and sharply-defined shadows, as made every yard in our progress exciting, and, tempted us to sit down as often as possible on some bench <>r shop-front to enjoy the inimitable picturesqueness of the scene. A great artisl once told me that I'm- three days he tried to Bettle himself in order to paint in the bazaars of Cairo, but hi- mind always got so distracted with the richness of his subjeel that he could never compose himself to his work. No sooner did he resolve to paint one hit than h< Q EASTWARD. another which seemed better, until for a time he gave it up in despair. Whi I "ii a bench contemplating the stream of Oriental vhich rushed past us, we had what I musl call the g 1 fortune t< very characteristic specimen of an Oriental quarrel. It was between a woman and a shopkeeper. The woman was, like most of her sex whom one meets with in Cairo, ohese and dumpy, with the usual veil over her face, which allowed however her flashing dark eyes to be seen, glaring like those of a -. Ber nails, which she seemed disposed to bring into immediate use as weapons of offence, were dyed. She had large ear-rings and other ornaments. The cause of her wrath seemed to be the loss of a bracelet, which the shopkeeper appeared to have irity for some debt. But what a picture the two ! They Looked into each other"- faces, and shouted at the top of their voices without a pause, question and reply being impos- sible amidst the roar of their vehement indignation. Their ries of -'[nails with thunder and lightning, but rather the continued scream of the tornado. They hurried off to the and thitlur. with a small crowd of excited partisans, we followed them. The police,, who were smoking their pipes in a divan under a verandah mar one of the gates, rose up. and calmly I the disputants lor a time. The woman demonstrated like a maniac, flung her arms around her. pointed to her bracelet, and veiled; the accused, with forefinger close to the woman's face, tried to veil louder ; several men and women took each their part, alia a n - : 1 yelled at the same time, while the leading r in the centre, joining in the chorus, with hands extended to all parties, yelled at the top of hi- voice. The discord was made up of sen Ithout a pause, in harsh and guttural, hut appa- rently most emphatic, Arabic. We aever saw such a perfect quarrel before, such a thorough exhibition of human passion ; ye1 it was too ludicrous to be horrible, for all this vehemence meant CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 43 little: it was like tint of the sea captain who excused himself for always Bpeaking iii a rage by Bayingthat, if he spoke quietly, nun.' ofhiscre^ would believe he was in earnest. How the dispute in i hi en led, I know net; but I am persuaded thai both Billingsgate and St. Giles's would have meekly retired from a eeute t of words with either the hero or heroine of the Cairo bazaars. Bui let us go back to our quid seat on the bench, and, like "Jock the laird's brother" on the louping-on stone, "glower frae it-." There is a strange combination of noise and quiel in the bazaars. Both belong to the East. There are no " cars rattling e'er the stony street," for there are no stones to rattle over. The roadway is hard clay. We are therefore delivered from the lend, grating, harsh European noises of coal- waggons and ether vehicles. Here they elide alone- like sleighs over snow. But the very absence of the noise of wheels necessitates the use of powerful lungs, to warn the moving mass of danger. Accordingly there is an endless shouting of something like this : "Yemlna!" (to the righl ;) "Shemalek!" (to the left;) " Ducharuc ! " (thy back;) ■ Regalek !" (thy leg;) "Jamlack !" (thy side;)— very much like the eri.s from one vessel to another of " Starboard '." or "Lar- board!" to avoid a collision; while the constanl "Hoah!" ,,ut ! is ever heard as a note of general alarm. We were astonished at the freshness of the atmosphere, and the absence of all disagreeable smells in these crowded streets. Never once were we offended by any one of the two-and seventy "well denned and several" perfumes which Coleridge has immortalized as characteristic of Cologne. Any abnormal odour which we caught was aromatic and agreeable. I don't pretend to accounl for this, or to say how far police regulations, the dry atmosphere, or the dogs have the credit of it ; bul I was informed that, for this town of upwards of 300,000 souls, drainage, in its "social o existence. 44 EASTWARD. As bo ill- dogs, which throng the streets, they are a great Eastern institution, constantly present in all its magnitude to the eye and ear of the traveller. The Cairo dogs, as far as I could judge, belong to the same pariah race, in form and feature, as those of oth( c Eastern cities. They are ugly brutes, without any domestic virtues, and without culture or breeding ; coarse-skinned, blear-eyed, and scrubby-tailed. They lead an independent public life, owe no allegiance to any master or mistress, not even to any affectionate boy or girl. They have no idea of human companion- ship, and could not conceive the possibility of enjoying a walk with man or woman ; nor of playing with children, mourning a master's absence, or barking wildly on his return home. They are utterly heathen, and never, like our decent sheep dogs, enter church or mosque. No tradition has ever reached them of any of their tribe having entered a house, even as a tolerated beggar, far less as a welcome guest or honoured friend. To have built the Pyramids or reigned at Memphis would not appear to them more absurd than their possession of such aristocratic privileges. They are kindly treated by the public, in so far as food goes, yet not as friends, bu1 only as despised wretches, the depth of whose degrada- tion is made to measure the charity of those who deign to show mercy to them. We saw six of them patiently watching a poor man at breakfast. How low must their self-respect have sunk ! Alms, when bestowed even generously, are received without any genial wag of the tail. That caudal appendage has no expression in it: its sympathetic affection is gone. Their political organi- sation is Loose, though a kind of republic exists among them, made ii)» of confederate states, — each state being a particular quarter of the town, and independent of every other. They cannot rise to the idea of united states. Tims, if any dog wanders beyond the limit of his own district, he is pursued by the tribe upon whom he has presumed to intrude, and is worried until he returns home, to gnaw his own state bones, consume his own state offal, and be CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 45 supported by his own niggers. These four-footed beasts have no home, no kennel, no barrel even, which they can call their own, A rug, a carpet, or even a bed of straw, is an unheard-of luxury. They lire day and night in the streets. Miserable creatures! I don't helieve the smallest Skye terrier would acknowledge them as belonging to his race, but, proud as a piper, would sn.nl pasl them with erect tail, and a low growl of dogmatic unbelief in the identity of the species, and of insulted dignity at the notion of ;i return hark being expected from him. Some people .-ire able, by the power of their fancy, to reproduce iii ordinary daylight the Arabian Nights of old El Kahira, orCairo, as it is called. We think it quite possible, after some months of total separation from Europeans, devoted to the study and reading of Arabic, and to the smoking of timback in a nargile, that one might reproduce before his mind's eye the ideal glories of the days of Haroun al Baschid. But for a man going from one rail- way to another, it is impossible to enjoy the old faith in Alad- din's lamp, to invest any Barber with interest, or to expect to get directions from the Genii, as we do now from "Bradshaw." Yei one evening, when passing through a bazaar, we took a cup. or rather a china thimbleful, of delicious coffee, with its dark grounds as more solid nourishment ; and then we had, tor a moment, such a glimpse of Eastern life as might, with time ami culture, have grown into a genuine Arabian-night feeling. It was a repetition of the scene in the bazaar of Alexandria formerly described, with the difference of a larger cafe, a more interested audience, and, above all, the fad that they were listening, as former generations had dene, to a person reading aloud, with great gusto, stories of a similar kind to those of "The Thousand and One Nights." It was a pleasanl sight, and suggested not only romantic thoughts of the past of Kl ELahira and Bagdad, but, what was of infinitely more importance to me, practical thoughts ,0 to the immense power, which we Westerns have never developed, of EASTWARD. SKETCHES FROM CAIRO. A Woman of the Uichi r <_'!u-> Riding - 'J lit- l'uorcr Class. CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 47 g I story-telling for the people, illustrative of minor morals, and of " the thousand and one " every-day details of common life, which should be considered and attended to by them for their physical and social well-being. The deep foundations of life require to be firmly laid, and big stones placed upon them, l>y heavier and more complicated machinery than this; but many an interstice mighl he filled up iii tin- building, ami many a valuable hint given for its internal economy and comfort, by the lighter machinery of good, racy, vernacular, pointed story-telling, which would form most effective week-day sermons for our people over their tea and e* * Sec Appendix No. II. III. CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. I am ii"t yel done with Cairo : we shall take a glimpse imme- diately into the mosques. But my narrative, in the meantime, hum lie broken up, like my journey, by a visit to the Red Sea. Tickets for Suez ! ' What a shock does such a request as this, which we made at the Cairo station, give to all our associations with the desert, and the journeyings of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob : It is as great as if we proposed to take a passage in an excursion steamer on the Lake of Tiberias, or to visit a cotton-miH on tin; site of the Temple of Jerusalem. But if any one prefer to journey on a camel alongside the railway, ho may have one I .omen and camel-drivers are always on the qui rive to conduct the enterprising traveller to any spot where "the ship of the des< it ' au strings of loaded camels, with Arabs on foot guiding them, and slowly journeying, as their predecessors had done for thou- sands of years, along that old route, it may In- t<> Palestine or to Arabia Petrea, or to strange and unknown scenes, or to verdant seas of pasture lands and feeding grounds for goats and camels, with tents pitched round springs of water — spots to which no vacation tourist has yet penetrated, and that remain as they were in the days of Job. And thus the desert was very desert, out and out, as it ought to have been, in order to meet the expectations of those more sanguine even than ourselves. On we went, thoroughly enjoying the scene, with no feeling of disappointment whatever. SS e could certainly picture a more ideal mode of passing through that old romantic waste, but it was impossible to picture a more perfect waste than that which we passed through. I need not say that as we approached the Red Sea, there w i r< many fidgety movements ever and anon towards the window from which we expected to get the first look of the famous gulf. The low ranee of the Mokattam hills, which stretch oast and west from Cairo, and to which we had been moving parallel, began at last to swell and break into more massive forms, like a billowy stream rising into the loftier waves of a rapid. Higher and higher they rose, until we could discern the fine broken outline of what seemed to be the summit of a range of precipitous heights looking towards the east, and plunging into invisible depths. These heights were the northerly end of the range of the famous Jebel Attaka— bordering the Red Sea. As we neared the end of the deseri plateau along which we had been wheeling, more and more of the precipices, several miles off, began to disclose themselves, until at last, when we reached the edge of the plain by which the railway descends to Sue/, we saw the bed Sea, and beyond its grey outline, which marked to us a new quarter of the world, and CAIRO AND THE RED SEA 51 was the Bhore of the Arabian peninsula, in the centre of which we knew Sinai was scaled on his throne ! The hotel at Suez is as comfortable as any in Europe ; and men of a certain time of Life, with their " manifold infirmities," always, I presume, appreciate civilised accommodation. I can quite con- ceive, remembering my own ignoranl and enthusiastic youth, how a member of the ambitious Alpine Club may sincerely believe that he prefers a bivouac above the clouds on the lee side of a row of stones, with a glacier for his bed-fellow, to a decent bed at 2s. a nighi in a hotel ; or how some stray sheep from the fold of civilised life, who has wandered to every out-of-the-way spol under heaven, should glory in a savage hut, or rude tent, or some other form of uncomfortable shelter in which to "put up." I am not disposed to cross-question such travellers about their feelings in a cold or hut night, or in a wet or dusty morning. Let me presume that they always awake in their respective abodes with a high sense of their own manliness and pluck, which must be most agreeable to them and a full reward for all their sufferings ; hut let them pardon, while they pity, easy-going gentlemen wdio prefer number L6, or any other, in the corridor of a hotel, with " John," or " Mohammed," to clean their hoots, and to call them at a certain hour in the morning. Such was our felicity at Suez. But "ancient founts of inspiration" were not wanting, as we ascended at night to the house-top. and in the deep silence saw the moon which Looked down on Moses and the host of Israel pouring its effulgence ov< r the Red Sea, and as we also perceived, afar off, the "everlasting hills" which had witnessed one of the mo-! profoundly interesting events in history. And as for things of the every-day present, there was a comedy announced for the evening, to be acted by the employe's of the I'. & 0. the Peninsular and Oriental Company — not a Theatrical one : - and \ cry w ell acted it was. It BO happened thai among the audience I soon discovered old acquaintances, and others allied by the ties of common friendships. I need not sp cify who these were, for such matters arc personal and without general interest ; bu1 1 must except one, who reminded me of our meeting in the Wes1 Highlands thirty years before. He was then one of the handsomest men I had ever seen don't blush, Major, if you read this!), and a good man. of an old family withal. Since then he has had many adventures. One of those fixed him in a house built somewhere in the desert between Sinai and the sea, where he employs the Bedouin to gather turquoise from the sur- rounding' district, for sale. He has made friends of all the tribes, conveys supplies for his wants on camels' backs from Suez, shows kindness — like "Staffa," his chief and hospitable uncle, before him — to every traveller, and leaves upon all who have the pleasure of knowing him. the impression of what some people call "a real gentleman," others a "thorough good fellow." If "Eastward" ever penetrates to "them parts" on a camel's back, its author _ ets thee, thou Sheik of the Turquoise ! I met here also our excellent consul, Mr. Colquhoun, an old acquaintance, from whom I had received letters of introduction to the Continent thirty years before. His situation I do not envy, but he will ever be the man of heart and honour. Our gallant friend, with big head and heart, Colonel M of the Guards, with his better half, we will rejoin in Palestine. It is a pleasure which a clergyman often enjoys, of meeting, in the mosl unexpected places, persons to whom he has ministered somewhere or other. They kindly introduce themselves to him, as they ought to do for the gratification thereby afforded to him. Such happiness I had at Suez, and those who caused it may thus h-arn that their kindness was appreciated. On the afternoon of our arrival at Suez — to go back a few hours in my story- before the play and all our brotherly meetings began, having a few hours of daylight, we wished to improve them, not CAIRO AND THE RED SEA 53 by examining the [sraelites' passage of the Red Sea, bu1 by bath- ing in the Sen itself. So we wen.1 from the hotel towards the gulf, and were fully convinced thai the town of Suez, in spite of its 8000 inhabitants, is a place not worth examining ; thai the bazaars have uothing bu1 whai is commonplace in them ; and thai this centre poinl between Easl and West is, like a true geometrical point, in itself nothing. We proceeded to the quay built by the French, which extends a bou1 a mile into the sen, and along which a railway is being con- structed. It is intended to lead to a dock and harbour uear an island further down the gulf. Here I can imagine the " intelligenl reader" stopping me to inquire about this railway and the Suez Canal : "Is it likely to succeed ? Is it commercial or political \ Haw the French humbugged John Bull, as they always do? or is tli.' whole scheme a gigantic failure? Are our civil engineers nghl iii their calculations and in their condemnation of it as a mechanical impossibility? Do you think," &c. Now, I must confess, in In. nest truth, that I cannot give any one rebable information on this subject. All these points which the supposed inquirer moots, and many of a Like nature, are questioned and debated in Suez by mosl intelligent men. jusl as much as i,, London. One hears the same difference of opinion in both places. •• It will and musl pay :" asserts boldly a man with a moustache. "Why, they have already in their town, which 1 have visited, such a hotel ! — such elegance and comfort, such " s a "Bosh: my dear Tom," cries another, "the whole thing i bubble. No ships will ever take the trouble to heat up the tied Sea m order to go by this canal. And hew can any amounl of water make the deserl productive 1 " "Why," retorts a man who knows, as he says, "the whole thing," " my belief is that the sweel water, that is, the fresh water. £ the Nile which, remember, they kavt brought, and were the 54 EASTWARD. firsl to bring, to Suez — will convert the ground along its whole course into as fertile soil as the Delta; and my conviction also is that it Will and miVSt pay.'' ■ We shall see, as the blind man said!" murmurs the doubting. ■ T'i - French," chimes in a hitherto silent listener, " you may depend upon it. are uncommonly clever fellows, and wonderful en- gineers : and my own opinion is, that unless they had good grounds for hoping to end successfully, they never would have begun at all : and what they have actually done is confessedly move than what was ever anticipated by any but themselves. I have no doubt whatever that a water communication of some sort for vessels, larger or smaller, will be opened, and that very soon too, between the two seas." "The rascals want Egypt — that's the whole thing. It's a political dodge, and no mistake," argues a contemplative listener, with his legs upon a chair, and his eyes and cigar pointed up to the roof. " I don't care a fig," exclaims another member of the self- constituted canal committee, "whether they get Egypt or not ! I defy them to be more selfish than this Pasha. We shall have our own route to India, ere long, by Antioch and the Euphrates, and let them have this one if they like." This is the; sort of talk, with more or less information and wisdom, which one hears at Suez. It was a glorious morning when we started at early dawn for A. -in, Monsa," or the Wells of Moses, some eight miles or so down the Red Sea from Suez, and situated on its eastern shore. The aii- was fresh and breezy, the sky cloudless and full of subdued b.-ht from tin' rising sun, whose beams fringed with gold the heights ot Jebel Attaka. One of our companions, pointing to the mountain ridge which -low,, I like ; , kindling bonfire, remarked, " lf the worship of Baal had any connection, like that of his CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 55 companion Astaroth, with the sun, or if be was always adored in 'high places,' then surely Baal-Zephon, 'over against' which the Israelites camped, was one of those burnished summits." <)m boal was very roomy, clean, and comfortable, and bad a seaworthy Look aboul her. She was manned by several very civil, intelligent-looking, and active Arabs. We bad some difficulty in aettina quit of the shoals and into deep water. The crew, walking from bow to stern, along the gunwale, pushed her onwards with Ion- poles, cheering each other (as most of the human race do when engaged in combined physical Labour) by singing, it' one can dignify by such a term their melancholy chant. Their words, though genuine Arabic, sounded to our ears exactly like "I see a whale, oh ! We got at last into deep water, and the lateen sail having been stretched to the breeze, we cheerily bore away for our destination. It was something worth travelling for, voyaging for, and paying for, to be thus launched on the smooth waters of the Red Sea. The spot is hackneyed to many, hut was new and most joyous to us. We were new mi the unhroken track of those scenes of Bible story which had been familiar tons from infancy, and had mingled, .luring life, with so many of our holiest thoughts and associations. Somewhere near us was the place where " the Church," having been delivered, by the mercy and power of its greal King, from heathen bondage, began its marvellous history, as the chief instru- ment in His hand in giving freedom to the world It was impos- sible torus to avoid recalling the Leading events of that drama, the wonders of which Boreb saw the beginning and the ending; the mysterious meeting of Moses with "the angel in the hum-." the " programme," so to speak, then given to him. of all that was to take place in Egypl connected with the Exodus, and which he after- wards rehearsed to the representatives of tsrael ; the journey of the two old brothers, Moses and Aaron, the former fourscore years, to the court of the mighty Pharaoh at Zoan, that Satanic embodi- 56 EASTWARD. ment of self-will without love; the subsequent dread contest between the kingdoms of the world represented by Pharaoh, and the kingdom of CJ.nl represented by Moses ; the fierce dismissal of Moses by Pharaoh, " Get thee from me ; take heed to thyself; see my face do more ; for in that day thou seest my face thou shalt die!" with the solemn reply of the old man, alone and solitary Map of Egypt, showing tb raelites. save for the presence of bis God, "Thou bast spoken well; thou shalt 8ei my face no more!" Then followed the gathering of the people in Goshen, after months probably of preparation, during the infliction of the successive plagues; the awful destruction of the firstborn of Egypt; the appointment of the Passover, which, in 30 me form or other, by .lew and by Samaritan, has remained CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 57 until this day ;* until at last they began their march, having firsi received, as was predicted by Moses, tribute from the kingdom ol the heathen, when the hitherto despised slaves were not only per- mitted to go, but entreated to do so on any terms. Their victory was complete: their supremacy was acknowledged: the enemy was spoiled ! Up to this point the narrative in Exodus is sufficiently clear. But what of the crossing of the Red Sea >. It may Beem presump- tion in me to offer any opinion upon what, lias boon so frequently discussed, and on which the most learned critics and mosi truthful me n differ. Bu1 Like most of those who have preceded me in this journey, I cannot help forming some opinion on the point in dis- pute ; and I take the liberty of expressing it very briefly. That the children of Israel crossed the Red Sea on their way to Palestine is, I must be permitted to assert, one of the most certain facts in ancient history, and has over been embodied in the holy songs, traditions, and memorial ceremonies of the Church of God. It is, moreover, now generally admitted that Goshen was on the Delta, and that Barneses, on its eastern side, and about thirty miles from Suez, was the starting-point of the vast caravan. But if so, the pilgrims never passed up the narrow valley of the Nile, from Co-hen to Memphis, from thence to turn east to pursue their journey by the Basatien route to the Bed Sea, south of the Has Aimka.f This theory is utterly untenable. It is quite clear from the narrative, that their shortest, easiest, and, as it were, natural * The paschal lamb was eaten (a -mull portion, a single mouthful probably, by each person) by tJu males only above twenty-one years of ".hut up," says Josephus, " between the ;3?V; I 6o EASTWARD. mountains and the sea — mountains that terminated at th< - which were impassable by reason of their roughness." In their despair the "children of Israel cried out unto the Lord ! '" and the Lord delivered them. 11 w did they escape? We read that "the angel of God, which went before the camp of Israel, removed, and went behind them : and the pillar of the cloud went from before their face, and st 1 behind them: and it came between the camp of the Eg itians and the camp of Israel; and it was a cloud and darkness to them, hut it gave light by night to these : so that the one came not near the other all the night." What effect this had on the several details of their deliverance, we cannot fully estimate. Then the children of Israel were commanded to "go forward!" — but not necessarily at once across the sea. opposite the north end of Attaka. but to advance towards the '•lias," or point to the south, where the head of the vast column would begin its march from shore to shore — the cloud, like a rear-guard, hindering in the meantime any attack by Pharaoh. We further read — "the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night." Now, whatever other purposes this wind was intended I serve, yet .1- the gulf runs north ami south, an or a north-east wind could not blow the waters southward out of the gulf; but, as we noticed by placing our compass on the shore opposite to Jebel Attaka. any wind from the east would drive the water for a considerable distance off the shal- which stretch from the eastern shore, ami thus have the effect of narrowing the channel, and of Leaving the deep sea only to be miraculously divided. If the divided portion lay between the Ras Attaka and the opposite plain on which the Wells of M - g are situated, the distance, minus the sands left dry. would b.- about six or seven miles. If the readei «ill glance at tin- sand-banks and soundings along the supposed route from sh 'r>- t.> shore, they suggest the possibility of there CAIRO AND I'll E RED SEA. 61 having been n greater bar of sand across the gulf in former ages. As in the time which was occupied by the passage, it does not seem quite dear from 1 1 1 < ■ narrative thai it was one nighl only. The succeeding events are thus recorded, without reference to the usual punctuatiou or arrangement into verses: — " And Moses stretch d out hia hand over the sea. " And the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night, and made the sea dry land. •■ A ml i in- w aters were divided. "And the children of Israel went into the midst of the Bea upon the dry ground. "And the water- were a wall unto them On the righl hand, and (in the left. ■•And the Egyptians pursued, and went in after them to the midst of the sea, ev( n all Pharaoh's horses, his chariots, and his horsemen. "And it came to pass, that in the morning' watch the Lord looked unto the host of the Egyptians through the pillar of fire and of the cloud, and troubled the host of the Egyptians, and took off their chariot wheels, that they drave them luavily: bo that the Egyptians said. Let us flee from the face of Israel; for the Lord fighteth fur them against the Egyptians. "And the Lord said unto Moses, Stretch out thine hand over the sea, that the waters may come again upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots, and upon their horsemen. •• And Moses stretched forth his hand over the sea, and the sea returned to his .-tn ngth \\ Inn the morning appeared ; and the Egyptians lied against it; and the Lord overthrew the Egyptians in the midst of the Bea. "And the water- returned, and covered the chariots, and the horsemen, and all tiie host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after them j there remained not so much as one of them." Now there is nothing, it appears t>> inc. in these words, to contradict the supposition that the sea was divided <>n the morning immediately after tin' stormy night; that the advanced guard of tin' host, which lay encamped along the plain north and south, then began from wesl t" easl i" cross tin' unit' near the Etas Attaka ; thai the march of the whole body continued .-ill thai day and the succeeding nighl ; so thai nol until the watch of the second or following morning, when the rear-guard of the Israelites was emerging out of the depths, and the cloud had EASTWARD. passed with them to the opposite shore, did Pharaoh at last move in pursuit He must then have marched some miles " into the midst of the sea." as his whole army, attempting to return, was overthrown. [f the Israelites thus crossed, from the " Ras Attaka" (or •• Point of Deliverance "), they would emerge on the grand plain immediately opposite, in which the"Wells of Moses" are situated. To effect all this we have of course assumed the existence of God's almighty power, moulding the lower kingdom of nature to advance the higher spiritual kingdom. Such were the impressions made upon us by the land and the book — when seeing the one, and reading the other on the spot. But while we are gazing on the Jebel Attaka in silence, broken only by conjectures and suggestions, our boat, with her ear down, is listening to her own music, as with flowing sheet we stand in for the sandy beach. The tide had ebbed before we approached the shore near Ayoun Mousa, so the Arabs had to carry us to the dry sand. The trust- worthy Ishmaelite to whom I was assigned, strange to say, com- plained of the ecclesiastical burthen that was laid upon him. It was in vain that I hugged him affectionately round the neck, and with all my might too, while he staggered with me in the sand. He 3eemed insensible to my kindness, and discharged me into Asia with a half grunt, half groan, as if J were a sack of coals. Bui these Arabs are an ignorant and degraded race ! The walk along the sandy shore excited in us all the feelings of boyish curiosity and eager Love of acquisition Had we seen the shells, which were oew and beautiful, lying on cotton in a cabinet, we mighl have been indifferenl to them; bu1 to gather them in situ, to pick up small sponges too, to wander free amidst (his museum of conchology, and to pocket whatever we fancied, had peculiar fascination about it. I could have wandered along that beach tor days, gathering shells, while the crisp waves of the sea CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 63 rippled over the shallows. It was on the sea-shore whal "nut- 1 ing " is in tin' woods. We had to walk for about an hour across an utterly ll.it, barren, and sandyplain. This maj have been the spot on which the Israelites entered from the sea, and where Miriam beal her loud timbrel, and sang that magnificent ode of victory which, like an echo from the Rock of Ages, is repeated in the son- of Moses and the Lamb. The Wells create a small oasis in the desert. Dr. Stanlej calls them the Brighton of Suez, inasmuch as its more aristocratic inhabitants take up their abode there during the summer. Tins gives as melancholy an idea of Sue/, as one would have oi London it' its inhabitants preferred the Isle of Dogs fur a rammer residence! The Wills nourish a few gardens, with shrubs and cotton plants, and produce a certain amount of cultivation most pleasing to the eye in this arid waste; and, if repose be sought for, they must afford it in abundance to those who wish to escape the roar and bustle of Suez. Before turning away from the Wells of Moses I gazed with a wistful eve along the track which, losing itself in the sandy downs beyond, led on to Sinai. What one would see in a few days, if he pursued that rout. — the Wady Feiran, Serbal, Sinai, with the >ilent plains, the coloured rocks the buoyant air, the awful solitude and mystery of the desert, bo full of stirring memories, and Petra too, and Mount Horeb, and onwards to Hebron and Jerusalem! It is a holy pilgrimage from glory to glory, yet one which never, alas! can be pursued by me. Thankful, however, for all I had seen, and hoped yet to see, I bade farewell to Arabia, and retraced my steps to the boat, from w Inch the tide was rapidly ebbing. When crossing the plain to the sea we met a lanky camel led by his driver, and we resolved, like boys visiting the elephant at a "show," to have a ride. It would he .-, mw experience, gained 64 EASTWARD. on a fitting spot, and would enable any novice of our party, ambitious of the honour, henceforth to exclaim, "I, too, have ridden a camel in the deserts of Arabia!" So the animal was made to kneel, and in performing the operation he seemed to fold up his legs by a series of joints, as one would fold a fool rule. The "Djemel" makes it a point of honour, when any burden whatever is laid on his hack, to utter sounds which may he intended for Arabic groans, sighs, protests, or welcomes, but are certainly unlike any other sounds proceeding from man or beast. Only an angry Hon, trying to roar when suffering from sore throat, or with a bag of potatoes stuck in his gullet, could approach to the confused, fierce, and guttural ejacu- lations of the camel. "When kneeling for his burden, as well as on other occasions, even when walking quietly along, he suddenly blows out of his mouth what seems to be his stomach, to air it, just as a boy blows a soap-bubble from a short tobacco-pipe. Amidst the gurgling growls of my kneeling friend, 1 got mounted, and was told to hold hard, and take care ! There was every need tor the caution. The brute rose, not as I expected on his forelegs first, but on his hind, or rather on only their half — as if on hind ell iows. This motion throws the rider forward, when suddenly the animal elevates himself on his knees, and, as one naturally bends forward to prepare for the last rise in the same direction, be hitches up the other half of his legs behind, and then as suddenly repeats the same experiment with his legs before, until, shakeu and bewildered, one is thankful to tind himself at rest. high above the sands of the desert, rather than prostrate upon them, among the camel's feet. Then began that uoiseless tread, with tic sofl spongy feet, which, however, is more remarkable in it- silence on the stony streets than on the shifting sand. The rocking motion, when yielded to, was not unpleasant. I cannot part from Arabia, and my first and last camel ride on plains, without expressing my admiration for that old animal CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. which is often abused by travellers, and which till some people, as I have heard them say, with feelings of disgust. 1 will oo1 affirm that the creature commands immediate admiration, bu1 I think he inspires immediate respect. The expression of his Boft, heavy, dreamy eye, tells its own tale of meek submission and patient endurance ever since travelling began in these d< The "Djeniel" appears to be wholly passive— without doubl or fear, emotions or opinions of any kind,— to be in all thin willing slave to destiny. Ee has none of the dash and brilliancy of the horse,— none of thai self-conscious pride,— thai looking aboul with ered Deck, fiery eye, cocked ears, and inflated nostrils, —that readiness to dash along a racecourse, follow the hounds across country, or charge the enemy,— thai decision of will whi.h demands, as a right, to be stroked, patted, pampered, by lords and ladies. The poor " Djemel " bends his neck, and, with a halter round his long nose, and several hundred- weight on his back, paces patiently along from the Nile to the Euphrates. Where on earth, or rather on sea, can we find a ship so adapted for such a voyage as his over those boundless oceans of deserl -and >. Is the " Djemel" thirstj \ Be h course to his gutta-percha cistern, which holds as much water a. will last a week, or. as some say, ten days even, if necessary. Is he hungry? Give him a few handfuls of dried beans, it is enough ; chopped straw La a luxury. He will gladly crunch with i .harp grinders the prickly thorns and shrubs in his path, to which hard Scotch thistles are as sofl down And when all fails, the i r fellow will absorb his own fat hump ! If the land-storm I, lews with furnace heat, he will close his small nostrils, pack up his .ars, and then his lone- defleshed legs will Btride after his swanlike neck through suffocating dusl ; and. having done his duty, he will mumble his guttural, and leave, perhaps, his bleached skeleton to be a landmark in the waste, for the guidance of future travellers. If this creature be a developmeni from some primeval oyster or mushroom, or the work of atoms which, at an earlier once floated in empty spar,' near, it may be, where Saturn or the Pleiades now are, we can only admire the extraordinary - _ city, by which, according to the laws of selection, monads and atoms all contributed, during countless millions of years before the oyster age, and from the oyster age downwards, towards building this tine old ship of the desert, which has needed no repair since the beginning of human history. But we must return to Cairo! Thanks to that great magician, that Fortunatus' cap, the steam boiler, we were able in one day to sail from Suez to the Ayoun Mousa, ride on the " Djemel," return in the afternoon to Suez, and that same night to arrive in Cairo. No doubt we almost missed the train, one minute more would have done it, but fortunately we saved the minute, and were speeding again through the desert. It is very easy for idle gentlemen, who seem to have as much time at their command as the antediluvians, to condemn busy nun for taking such rapid journeys, although it be to visit spots which they would never otherwise see. If their own bliss be measured by slowness of travel, why don't they walk on loot or ride on a donkey's back through Europe ? Sincerely grateful for rails and steam, we reached Cairo at night, and so secured another day to see a tew sights, and espe- cially the mosques, ere we left the "City of Victory." Aj i- '.lie mosques, which 1 promised to look into, I need nol attempt to describe their external appearance, as the illus- trations ,,f them in Ferguson's Architecture, or " Murray." will give a better idea of this than any words could do. In its interior, the mosque always struck me as a most impressive place ot worship. Perhaps my Presbyterian prejudices dispose me t . • acquiesce in it- perfeel simplicity. No statues or pictures are permitted in it ; and no Beats of any kind are required tor people who prefer the floor, which is invariably matted or carpeted, thus Q W M W fc! H w H CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. giving it, to a European, an air of comfort. Admosl the only Bign of furniture in it is a pulpit ot two from which the people are addressed occasionally by the Moolah. The mosque is always open, I believe, and is seldom withoul some worshippers, while al stated times during the day it is well attended. The utmo decorum and reverence arc everywhere visible; no hum oi voices is heard, nor even footsteps, nor is there anything visible which can distract or arresl the attention of the worshippers. People of every class scatter themselves throughoul the vasl ar< a, each man selecting a spot for himself where he can kneel towards the "Mirhab," or niche which indicates the direction of Mecca, and scorn as much absorbed in his duty as if he were in a d« sert island. Some arc seen sitting cross-legged, and engaged in grave conversation ; while others walk soberly up and down. 'I he whole service, judging of it only by what one sees, gives the impression of worship to an unseen God, which must, when first established, have presented a remarkable contrast to that of the Christian Church as it then was; and it certainly is a very different thing from that which at Luxor or Karnac once reigned supreme, with a Bull or Beetle for its God! Mahometanism owes its origin to Judaism and Christianity; and we who live, in the lull blaze d the true light, arc apt to undervalue the good obtained from its dimly reflected beams, which, in some degree, irradiate spots thai otherwise would be outer darkucss. I must pass over many other sights in Cairo. ' It time per- mitted"-^ public speakers say at a late bour-I could gossip about the magnificent tombs of the Caliphs, the citadel, and th, splendid view of the city from its walls, with the mosques and busy streets at our feet, like Mahometan ant-hills, and with I hazy Libyan desert, and the Pyramids on the distant shore beyond the dark inlet of the Delta ;_and tell abom th, well-known 3 po1 wh ere tl ne Mameluke Bey escaped from the bloody massacre ofa l] his fellow-chiefs, by the fearful leap of his Arab steed over LAST WARD. , :i ll of the fori ; and I could describe— no, that is impossible! —the horrid, death-like place outside the walls where animals slaughtered in the open air, and where the vultures croud around, Faugh ! lei us press close our nostrils and pass on ! A Turkish bath seems to me to be a most fitting conclusion to siffht-seeinsr like this, in such hoi weather too. I know aol as yet B ' what that institution may be in London, but having endeavoured to enjoy the luxury in three places — Moscow, Cairo, and Damascus — and all of them being much alike in their essential features, 1 frankly confess that I have no wish to try the experiment again in "foreign lands." The description of one — though I cannot quite separate in my memory some of the details of the Cairo and Damascus hot -water -and -soap establishments — will serve for all. We inquired lor the best bath in the city; and our intelligent guide, Hassan, the sheik of all the donkey-boys about Shepherd's Hotel — a man who, from his intercourse with the English, is assumed to have some knowledge of Western civilisation — assured >i ■ about to enter one of those boiler-houses, that it he besl in Cairo, where " all de lords [nglese go." We bowed and entered. The outside looked very shabby. The first room rge apartmenl with an uneven floor, flagged with stone — marble of n sort, 1 believe. It wore a singularly liquid look, and had about it a general air of hazy, foggy damp. Hanging from the roof were innumerable long sheets drying. One end of the room was elevated, and was reached by a few steps; and on this upper Hour was a series of couches, seemingly very clean, on which the half-boiled bathers reclined, smoking uargiles, and radiating forth their heal into space, thereby producing dew. To this dais we were led, and requested to undress. The genius of the place appeared in the form of an old man, evaporated into kin and hone, with a solitary tufl of hair on his head, a wet towel i hi- loins and his whole body dripping. I started when I CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. s;(W him,—] did no1 know why, until I recognised in trim the image of Father Time as pictured in tracts and almanacks, bul fortunately wanting the scythe. Delivering our valuables to the care of a patriarchal individual who sat cross-legged in a corner, we were wrapped in a sheet, and Led oul by Time, accompanied by a scarecrow attendant, who from his Long Legs mighl represenl leap year. We put on wooden shoes, and passed over heated slippery stones into another apartment, which was so hoi thai on- felt a tendency to become browned like toast, or to bubble over the skin. This sensation subsided gradually into a pleasing dewy evaporation. We were then conducted to a Large open \at full Of water, which tO us had two objections: one was that it was intolerably hot, the other that it seemed already full of donkey- boys and their friends —the head of Hassan in their midst, grinning above the surface. But, inspired by the determination to go through with all the horrors of this sudoriferous den, we clenched our teeth, tried to imagine ourselves chimney-sweeps, and jumped in. In due time, when sufficiently saturated, wo were put in a h >1 chamber and laid on the floor, with cockroaches, or what the Scotch call " clocks," crawling over it in dozens. There we lay. like turbol or cod about to be dressed for dinner. By and by we were soaped from toe to head, lathered with soft palm-tree 6bre, then had tepid, and afterwards cold water poured over us, and then a monster began tocrack our joints and shampoo us! Ee succeeded with my companion, who yelled, as the Egyptian, in fits of laughter, seemed to put every limb out of joint, and to dislocate his neck. But when the same Pharaoh tried me, his arms fortu- nately could not meet around me, so after a violent struggle, in which I fought desperately and tumbled aboul on the floor like i salmon which a fisher tries in vain to seize round the body, he gave it up in despair, and, for the firsl time probably in his wiped his forehead from fatigue, as he exclaimed "Mushallal After sundry other minor appliances, having the same end m vriew — tli.it of opening the pores of the skin — we returned to the apartment from whence we had originally started, and were there gently dried by a scries of warm sheets being laid upon us. Hassan spread his carpet and said his prayers. The sensation after bathing was very pleasant, no doubt, but not more so, nor calculated to do more good, than what mosl cleanly disposed people experience daily from the application of hot and then cold water, accompanied by the well-known substance, soap, in their quiet bath-room at home. Doubtless I felt light and elevated when I got out, but feelings as pleasant can surely be produced without being scrubbed like a pig, rubbed down like a horse, boiled like a turkey, exhibited like a new-born infant to the curious, and without also a donkey driver tor your C.B. ! — and all this with no other consolation than ill' assurance that the pores of your skin arc open forsooth — like the doors of a public institution! For my part, I prefer them closed — or at least ajar. We had one thing more to do ere w^e left Cairo for Palestine, and that was to hire a dragoman. There were many applicants. These men are constantly prowling about the hotel : they scent the prey afar off, they meet you in the lobbies, sidle up to you under the verandah, tap at the door of your bed-room, beg pardon in French, Italian, or English, all equally bad ; ask if you " vant a dragoman;" produce an old book of certificates signed by the various parties with whom they have travelled, and profess to he ready to proceed with you at a moment's notice to Jerusalem or Tiinbuctoo. Dragomen are, by the catholic consent of all travel- led, considered as scoundrels. But I am inclined to dissent from this as from most sweeping generalisations regarding classes of men. It is alleged of a Scotch traveller that, when told at Cairo by his companion that they must get a dragoman, he asked, What kind o' beast's that ?" Now I know that some travellers have Marled on the assumption that the dragoman is but a beast, CAIRO AND THE RED SEA. 71 though ;i necessary oiH' for the journey; and from want of con- fidence have suspected, accused, and worried him, threatened him with appeals to the consul, and such like, without any adequate cause, and thus have helped to produce the very selfishness and dishonesty and "want of interest in the party" which they accuse him of. It is a dragomans inte'est to bo civil and honest; so I believe it to be quite possible for any intelligent traveller, with some assistance from the better informed, to make, sign, and seal, before starting, such a tight bargain as, — with the promise of a reward, if satisfied, at the end of the journey, — will make imposition to any appreciable extent impossible. But the indolent traveller, who has abundance of money, often begins by spoiling his dragoman, and then ends by abusing him for being spoiled, and for having taken advantage of the reckless expenditure and careless accounts of his master. Hadji Ali, who was employed by the Prince of Wales on his tour, offered himself to us, and was accepted. He came, it must be confessed, with a character sadly shaken by his last employer, Lady ; but after investigating, as far as we could, the whole circumstances of the case, we made our bargain with the Hadji, and had no cause to repent having done so. He agreed to conduct our party of five from Jaffa to Damascus and Beyrout, at the rate of thirty shillings a day for each, during one month. Others, strongly recommended to us, refused to go under forty shillings, owing to the sudden rise in the price of cattle and provisions consequenl on the murrain in Egypt. Our contract was written by my brother, who had experience in the work, on Friday, and Eadji agreed to be on board of our steamer at Alexandria on Monday, with all his camp equipage. And so, having settled that important point, we lefl Cairo on Saturday for Alexandria, gratefully acknowledging that we had never in one week seen so much to interest us, or to furnish thoughl for after years. We EASTWARD. bade farewell to my old kind-hearted friend, Mr. Dunlop, Vice- Consul, — since transferred to Cadiz, — a man who will make many Mends and do enemies wherever he goes. We saw no other "sight" in Egypt which impressed itself on memory, except the crowd of Turks which like a bed of tulips, filled the third class, each man having a beard and turban which might form a study for an artist. The whistle screeched with its usual impatient violence, and we moved off for the sea, leaving behind us Shepherd's hotel, full of the homeward-bound from India, and the tombs of Egypt, fuller still of the Dynasties of Manetho ! IV. JAFFA. WE embarked at Alexandria on Sunday evening* in a Etus Lan steamer which was to star! at early dawn for Jaffa. When I we, I do not at present use the editorial, or the mode I "we, instead of the too personal and obtrusive " [.*' I< is intended to express the party which embarked at Alexandria to visit Pales- tine together. Now one of the most difficult practical problems which a tra- veller has to solve, is the choice of the companions who make up the " we." His comfort, the whole atmosphere of the journey, the enjoyment from it at the time and from its memory afterwards, depend in a great degree on those who accompany him. Let him beware of his espousals ! A divorce may be impossible for months, * We had thus the happiness of spending another Sunday at Alexandria witl our good friend the Scotch minister, Mr. Yuille, and of again assisting turn in his services in the harbour on board his - Bethel » ship (presented to bhe Church oi So A Land M Lssion by the Late Pasha) and of preaching t , his congregal ion or. shore. Travellers I fear are too apt to form an estimate of the value oi uussionanes in foreign cities only from the uumber of "conversions" of the heathen or the unbelievers among whom they are settled. But without at all underratmg tins great branch of their work, let us not overlook, as we are apt bo do, how great a privilege it is to Europeans themselves, -to the wandering traveller^ .1 resident merchant, the young clerk Ear from home, the sailor visiting the port the invalid seeking a more genial clime,-to have , simple-hearted; ^mgent, God- fearing missionary to visit then, in sickness; to -hi- and comfort them in diffi- culty andin sorrow, and o„ each Lord's day to minister to them by prayer and Preaching. In our opinion such a missionary is the Christian Consul ot the p L which he lives. Eis value is great, and he deserves the support and enc ment of every right-thinking man. EASTWARD. and his sufferings in the meantime great. Accept therefore of no man who for any reason whatever can gel sulky, or who is thin- skinned ; who cannot understand a joke or appreciate a bad pun; who wears the photograph of his wife round his ueck, or, what is worse, of one whom he wishes to be his wife ; who has a squeaking voice, which he is for ever pestering the echoes to admire and : : who refuses to share the pain of his party by paying when cheated; who murmurs doubts about the Lawfulness of a glass of beer; who cannot "rough it" and suffer in silence; who has long legs with knees thai reach across a carriage ; or who snores loudly. Avoid such a man. Floe from him, if necessary, as from a haunt- ing spectre. What is ueeded above all else is geniality, frank and cordial companionship, with the power of sympathising not only with his " party," but with the spirit of the scenes and people among whom he moves. The feeling with which a man gazes for the first time on some famous spot, like Jerusalem or Tiberias, colours the whole afterthought of it. Let one of the party at such a time strike and keep up a false note, the whole music is changed into discord, and so echoes tor ever in the ear of memory. Now I stale all these qualifications with greater confidence, inasmuch a- "our party" was unexceptionable. There was my- self, for example: — hut I dare not here pause as Matthews used to do in his story of the actor who began to enumerate the great performers he had known, suddenly stopping after his own name, and adding, "And I forget the rest:" For to forget would be impossible, that there was also my friend Mr. Strahan, the pub- lisher, and my brother, the minister of Linlithgow, both selected for the importanl and highly responsible duty of protecting me; tip- one being accordingly told off to hold the bridle, ami the other tic- stirrup of the weighty writer on those solemn occasions of greal physical exertion when he mounted, or dismounted from, his horse ; ami there were our excellent friends the Rev. Mr. Lundie, of Birkenhead, and .Mr. George Barbour, dun., of Bolesworth, who I \l !• A. both joined us ob finding thai their route wa to be the Bame as ours Each of us had his own peculiar greatness. The publish* great in endurance, even a1 sea in bad weather,- thai is to saj lona as consciousness remained; the minister of Linlithgow was greal as a courier, and great also in Arabic, for he could count ten in that language, having been in the country before ; the minister of Birkenhead°was great in plants; the young Cheshire laird was grea l on horseback, and could force a trot, and on soi lasiona a gallop, when all others failed in do so; the writer was great all over, even majestic— in sleep. Having introduced my friends, 1 shall, without perhaps men- tioning then, again, resume the "1" or the "we- as fancy or convenience .nay dictate, freeing them from all responsibihtylor what is written by either. As we never had the slightest differ- ence in our happy journey, I shall indulge the confident hope thai the "we" will generally concur in the account, such as it is. or may be, which the " 1 " may give of it. The steamer was very comfortable, hut very slew. '1 here was no forcing her even in smooth water up to eighl knots Hie captain was a short man, round as a barrel, and with a bullet head, like a seal's, covered by shiny black hair. He was verj civil, in his own official way. The vessel was o, I a Line which unites the coasts of the Mediterranean with those ot the Black Sea. ill- [t was crowded with "pilgrims "coming from Mecca, I believe, though [cannot he positive as to their termi » d .que .or m „„,,„ What interested mosl on here meeting, for the bn Le,with a freight of pilgrims, was ir great numbers and their strange hahit, on shipl rd. They were spread everywhere over the decks in family gr s, leaving only narrow hudj U ffieien. for sailors or curious p, ngers along without Southern. They lay huddled up in carpets and nngs EASTWARD. with the sort of quiet submission to their position which good Europeans manifesl in yielding themselves up to death and the grave. Whether they slept, meditated, or were in utter uncon- sciousness, it is difficuH to say ; for during most of the day few seemed to attempt to move or shake themselves loose from their place of rest. When the sun shone bright in the morning or evening, and the ship was not uneasy, there was a general rising up of turbans like flowers from the variegated beds of a garden. Nargiles were then produced, lights were passed, bags, handker- chiefs, or other repositories opened, and bread, with figs, garlic, or some other condiment, divided by the old bearded Turkey cock and his hen among their young in the nest around them. It was marvellous to see, as we noticed afterwards on longer voyages than this, how little suffices to satisfy the wants of < hientals. The one half of the quarter-deck was tented with canvas, and set apart for the more aristocratic portion of the pilgrims; but, except for the darting out and in of some young black-eyed girl or slave who supplied them with water, their long tent was as still as the grave. So still, indeed, did sonic of those Easterns keep, so submissive and patient were they under all pressure of circum- stances, that on one occasion when 1 went to enjoy the quiet and the fresh breeze at the vessel's bow, and sat on the tore jib, which had been hauled down and stowed. I sprang up in alarm on finding it to move under me. 1 discovered to my horror that I had been Bitting for some time on a Moslem! Ee survived the pressure; "■''>• smiled at my expression of alarm. I hope lie has not suit, red since. We had one passenger on hoard who was of some importance — the ex-Duke of Modena. Ee was on a pilgrimage, as we were told, to Jerusalem, where we afterwards met him. Ee was a quiet, court gentleman, unaffected in manner, and wearing a taddened look, which, knowing the change in his social position, could nol hut ex,-ite 01ir sympathy. It is easy to blame a ruler J A 1 I A. forwhal was done or lefl undone by bim while in power; but few of us can know or understand the whole world of circum- stances and surroundings, ecclesiastical, political, and Bocial, in which such a ruler has been placed from infancy, or the gifts and capacities given him by God, so as to form anj righteous judgmenl regarding his personal guill or innocence. We pitied the Duke for his loss of Modena, although not Biodena for the loss of the Duke who was of greai service to us, in securing an excelled table for the passengers while on board. The captain wore his Russian orders, and the ks and stewards obeyed them ; s,>. what with the Duke and the orders, there were greai dignity and good dinners. If Dr. Johnson, thai authority on morals, deemed it right for a man on land to pay attention to whal must be done thrice every day, who ran blame a man a1 Bea for paying attention to his meals when he has little else to concern himself with all the day lung? It is surely inconsistenl to pity the sick man who dispenses, in more ways than one, will, his f 1. and at the same time to blame the strong man who enjoys We again acknowledge our gratitude to the Duke of Modena. We & had other passengers who contributed in make this shorl voyage a very agreeable one. There were Messrs. Thompson, ForuC and Bliss, with other excellent American missionaries; and our friend Colonel M with his lady and party. We were rather doubtful as to where we Bhould be pul ashore, for the landing at Jaffa is not always to he depended upon The* is no port for the steamer to enter: and if the weather be i all rough, boats cannot leave the harbour: and should the) able to do so, there is often much danger in entering >< i as the passage through the reef of rocks is verj uarrow, and 1 are apt to ship a sea from the breakers, and thus be swamped The next landing-poinl is Caipha, or Haifa, under Mounl Carmel, and this, we believe, can be entered in an) weather. Bu an inconvenient point of access to Palestine, as il compels the EASTWARD. tourist who wishes to see the north and south of Palestine, to retrace his steps northward after visiting Jerusalem — unless he varies his journey by travelling southward along the plain by l rea to Jaffa We ourselves would much prefer, if Jaffa failed, to go on to Beyrout, see Damascus, &c., and travel south, embarking a1 Jaffa Fortunately the weather was propitious, and the Duke of Modena was anxious to reach Jerusalem by the shortest route. This settled the ease in favour of Jaffa, or old Joppa. On the afternoon of Tuesday we were approaching the Holy Land, and straining our eyes to get a first glimpse of its ever- lasting hills. The sun was setting as we descried the long low line of the Palestine coast. It had set when we blew off our steam, a mile from the shore. The twinkling lights of boats were then seen like stars coming towards us, and soon the port officials stood on dock demanding a clean hill of health; and this being produced, boat after boat came clustering to the ship's side. Then an indescribable Babel from the screeching of their crews, who seemed engaged in some fierce and deadly strife of words which was itself an interesting study, until, after a while, amidst the roaring of steam and of voices, "we were by degrees carried along over the side and down to a boat, in a current of sailors, Turks, Arabs, passeng< rs, portmanteaus, dragomen, and travellers, w Idle office] - and captain w< re at the gangway acting a pantomime in despair, vociferating Russian louder than the steam, stamping their feet, grasping their hair, and appearing half apoplectic with their efforts to be heard, yet able at intervals to command a smile for the comfort of the Duke of Modena. It was a -rent relict' to be off from the -hips side (though more than once I thought unpleasantly of Jonah and to pull for the old shore. I do not know whether there is a u ■ convenient landing- raiii;,, 1 ' ; ,-' - - - I.\l I \. place at Jaffa than thai by which we pas3ed Prom i I have a fainl memory thai soi ne told me there wi ir. I hope there is; for if not, thai one difficulty mighl form ;i mure formidable barrier to some travellers than a high mountain . Our Landing-place was a shelf of wood projecting overhead, under which our boat was brought, and from which a dozen hands ol unknown and, in the darkness, dimly visible Aid.-, were stn I down to help me up. I was quite alive to the " slip betweei cup and the lip," l)i 1 1 somehow, though 1 1« make- our acquaintance with our future friends, the horses. They seemed a vulgar pack, without breeding or anything to commend them. Bui after sundry experim protests, rejections, and trials of the girths and saddles, we a1 last selected our cattle, and arranged to start uexl morning from the Model Farm. I need col say thai Hadji wished to impress ns with the greatness of the sum which, owing to the dearth of horses, he had paid for the hire of our stud. I had brought an English saddle with me, and it was ordered to 1"' pnt on a quiet, patient, respectable-looking, ministerial cob— after- wards called, in spite, " the cow." We retired that evening to "the Model Farm" — so called, by the way, from its being an experiment, supported by Christians in London, to provide labour for converted .lews. It is superintended by Dr. Philip, who acts as farmer and medical missionary. I availed myself of the opportunity afforded to me of here visiting, without the suspicion of being intrusive or impertinent, a native dwelling — the house of Mamoud, Dr. Philip's servant I' was what in Scotland would be called a humble "clay biggin'." The fire was on the floor. The furniture consisted of two lai what shall I call them? — jars, three or four feel high, for holding grain, with an orifice at the bottom for extracting it. There was also a quern, exactly the same as those used in the Highlands, and with which, when a youth, 1 have often ground corn for my amusement. A bottle full of oil hung tip in the smoke, in order, I presume, to keep it always in a tit state for the lamp -remind- ing one of the saying of David in his sorrow, " I am become like a bottle in the smoke." The \^- t \^, consisting only of carpeta and rugs, were rolled up in a coiner. Next morning our cavalcade mustered, and we gaw, for the firsi time, the maUriel of a tour in Palestine. A- to the men who accompanied us, there vvas our chief, Hadji Ali. with brown SS EASTWARD. braided jacket, loose Turkish trousers, and long black gaiters or leggings as loose and easy as those of a bishop, but wanting the episcopal gloss and rows of buttons. A bright kaffla was wrapped round his head and protected his neck and shoulders. Hadji had a horse, of course, assigned to him, but was always willing to exchange it for the animal which became unpopular with any of the party. Next to him in dignity and responsibility was "Nubi," or the Nubian He was our waiter, personal servant, steward, or whatever will best describe Hadji's mate. He was a tall young mill, with skin dark as ebony, shining teeth, intelligent coun- ts nance, of most obliging disposition, from whom we never heard a murmur. The third class was represented by Mohammed, the cook, excellent as an artist, and most civil as a man, whose sole defect was liability to occasional pains, intimately connected with his digestion, to alleviate which I ministered from my medicine- chest, thereby securing to myself from that time the honour- able title of Hakeem Pasha, or chief physician. Then came Meeki, the master of the horse, and also of the mules. Meeki always rod.' a small ass — a creature which, unless he had known himself to be tough and enduring, would have been an ass in- deed to have permitted Meeki to mount him. He was a square, thickset man, with short legs, broad back, and ponderous tur- baned head. He rode astride or cross-legged, as it suited him. Tip human side of his character came out wholly as a smoker of his constant friend the nargile, and as a singer or rather an earnesi studenl of songs, which consisted of little short squeaks toll of shakes, and in a minor key. His inhuman side came <>wt in the dogged, tieice, imperious way in which he loaded and drove the pack-horses and mules. I verily believe Meeki had no more heart in him than Balaam, and as little conscience. He was a constant study to us, whether when packing or unpacking at in, ,rn or even, or when trudging along at the head of the party on his wonderful little animal, which he so completely covered, thai one could sec only two small black hind legs patt< ring along with indefatigable energy over sand and rock from morning till Mccki, Master of the Horse. i night. Meeki had three muleteers under him, fine active Arab lads, who trembled at his voice. We had thus seven attendants, including Hadji, with about ten pack-horses and mules. All w< re needed: for, as I have already said, in a note i" my firs! chapti r, there are no roads in Palestine, and therefore no wheeled vehicles, not even a wheelbarrow, from Dan to Beersheba There are do hotels, except at Jaffa and Jerusalem; everything, thert fore, n - quired for the journey must be carried. We left the Model Farm after breakfast, receiving the adi< the children, who waved their handkerchiefs t" us from t 1 j <• - house top. We were accompanied by their father, who kindly agi to go with us as far as Jerusalem. The day was beautiful, and the atmosphere exhilarating: so we moved i it acn as the Plain of Sharon, full of hope for the future and in great enjoyment of the present. We drew up at a grove that formed the outskirts of the gardens, and were made welcome to take as many oranges as we could pockel from the yellow heaps, or whal a Bighlander would call cairns, which were rapidly increasing every minute ]>v the gatherers emptying their basket-loads of the ripe ami delicious fruit. To appreciate an orange it must be oaten when taken from the trie and while retaining the full aroma treasured from sun and air. It may have been fancy, but it seemed to me thai I had never, except here or at Malta, eaten a perfect orange. We found, however, that these very ripe Jaffa oranges lost their character in ;i few days. We soon debouched on the undulating- plain, over which we I along a beaten track. T d<> not profess to remember its " heighs and hows," the successive aspects of the country, or the bearings by the compass of "tells" or towns: tor here I must (•"life-- the fact, thai 1 kept no journal nor took any notes, except in letters to my fireside — a spot unknown in all the East. This omission arose from, I verily believe, the mere weariness of the flesh — and the trouble of writing on horseback while a whole party passed on or waited until my observations were recorded — or the here of writing in one's tent when the demand for repose, conversation, or reading became imperious. I trusted tcthe per- manence of general impressions, and 1 am not yel convinced of my having committed any great error in having done so. 1 there- fore how with humble respect and reverence before careful and accurate observers ami all scientific travellers, professing myself 1,1 , "' onl; ip aboul the surface of palpable things, and a rder only of what I saw and actually experienced, and now clearly remember. We passed in our ride this forenoon the house where some American missionaries were murdered a few years ago. They were very earnest, hut, if the story we heard aboul them was correct, not very wise or discreet men. We passed also a small hill, or rather mound, called Beth Dagon, where no doubl thai fish I \l I \ god had once bis foolish worshippers. Then we saw a band fountain called, I know not why, after Abraham ; and we saw also what were older than A.braham, and what retained .-ill the glorj and beauty of their youth the flowers of the plain. Thi i were always a charm to the eye a glory of the earth far surpassing that of Solomon. The plains and hills of Palestine are gemmed in spring with flowers. The rod poppy, asphodel, pheasant's-eye, I link cranebill, mign Ho, tulip, thyme, marsh marigold, white iris, camomile, cowslip, yellow broom, vK:c., are common to the Plain of Sharon, giving a life ami lighl to the Landscape which photography cannot yet copy. We saw also, when near I, add. the well-known high towei- of the mosque at Ramleh, three miles off to our right. It is situated on the highest ridge of the plain, and from its position and height (120 feet) it is said to command a ooble view of the Plain of Sharon to the north, and of the Plain of' Philistia to the south. We lunched at Ludd, the ancient Lydda, where the Apostle Peter cured Eneas of the palsy. As we approached its beautiful trees and orchards, we came on the cavalcade of our friends Colonel M and his party; and such meetings were always cheering. But instead of resting under the trees with them, we pushed on for the ruins of the church named after England's patron saint, St. George, who was, according to tradition, born and buried here. The chinch, it is said, was rebuilt by Richard Cceur do Lion. We spread our first table in Palestine under the remains of one of its noble marble arches. An old, bearded Greek Christian visited its, and when some one of our party told him I was a clergyman, be seized my hand and ! it. It required great faith in the old man to accept the fact ol my profession, as I certainly did not wear mj canonicals, and from felt hat downwards had no visible trad- of the ecclesiastic He told us many stories about St. George, with keen, believing bated breath, and uplifted finger. I wish I could recoiled them, and had nol too nastily assumed thai I never would forget Buch 92 EASTWARD. delightful sensation legends regarding the saint ; how he was slain, burnt, and beheaded bv the King of Damascus, and always came alive again; with the subsequent adventures of his head, which was said to be buried under the high altar. But these Legends have passed away from my memory, though they live in the faith of the saint's aged admirer. It has been hinted, however, by some sceptical historian, that St. George was not a very respectable character. I think his Dragon must be meant: charity supports this view. Was it because of some victory gained here by the Crusaders over the Saracens that St. George was adopted as our kind patron, without, 1 presume, asking his consent? I really do nut know. After lunch we pushed on for our camping-ground at Jimsu, which we saw rising like a fortress above the lower hills, as if to defend the passes beyond. Tie' village is situated on a spur of the hills of .Indea. Wo reached it in five hours from Jaffa, including, 1 think, our pause at lunch; so that wo had an easy day's march 'l'li.- first encampment is always a source of interest and excite- ment to the traveller. We formed no exception to this general experience. Those who associate discomfort with a tent have never lived in one, or it must have been bad, or overcrowded, or, worse than all, in a wot or cold climate. We had two tents; the one accommodating three persons, the other two. On entering the head-quarters and mess-tent, wo found the floor spread with rags; a table round the pole in the centre, arranged tor dinner, red with a beautiful white cloth, and on it two wax candles burning, with ample space round tor our camp-stools. Three iron bedsteads were ranged along the sides, and our bags and port- manteaus placed beside them, and everything wearing an air of thorough comfort, even luxury. The other tents, belonging to our suite, were pitched Dear us ; one for the kitchen, and the cook's utensils and personal luggage ami the other for the general JAMA. dormitory of the servants, in which Hadji nightly Led off the snores. To pitch those tents so as to have them all in order in the evening to receive "the party," it is necessar} thai the muleti i i should start early with them and all the baggage, and push on direct to the ground fixed upon, leaving the travellers and dragoman to follow at their leisure. An excellent dinner was indue li served up by Hadji, and assiduously attended by Nubi. We had not much variety during our tour, but every day there was more than en >ugh to satisfy tip' cravings of any healthy, even fastidious appetite. Soup, roast mutton, fowls, curry, excellent vegetables, a pudding, ;i dessert, and cafd aoir, of first-rate quality, after, cannot In- called "roughing it in the desert." This sorl of dinner we had every day. And for breakfast good tea and coffee, eggs by the dozen, always fresh and good too, with sundry dishes cunningly made up of the debris of the previous dinner. We had also an abundant lunch, which the Hadji carried with him on a pack-horse, ami was ready at any time, or in any place, to serve up with the greatesl nicety. Tea or coffee could be had as a finale before going to bed, if wanted. All this I state to allay the fears of those who may possibly imagine that, should they visit Palestine, they would have to depend upon their gun or the wandering Bedouin for food. They might as well fear being obliged to rely tor entertainment upon the wandering gipsy when travelling between London and Brighton. When we reached our tents we found a huge number of the Felaheen, or peasant Arabs, from the neighbouring village, assembled. They were very quiet and civil, and did not trouble us much about backsheesh, although our experience regarding this Eastern impost was daily, almosl hourly, enlarging. Everj petty Sheik, whether of tribe or village, thinks himself entitled \,, it; the children clamour tor it : their parents support the claim; and in sonic wady, men with clubs or guns nns urge it upon the 94 EASTWARD. wayfarer to a degree beyond politeness. But admitting once for all this notorious Oriental weakness, I must also protest against the injustice done to the oppressed descendants of [shmael, by looking upon them as the only race guilty of Irwin- such an income-tax or " black mail." J fear that it is an almost universal custom, and one not quite unknown among the tribes of the civilised and Christianised portions of the globe, though it may not be so openly practised bythem as l.\ the semi-barbarous Orientals. Backsheesh reigns supreme in Russia over the peasanl and the prince, and is the grand, almost only, passport to the Muscovite nation. It is known in America, North and South, under the guise of •■ the almightv dollar." It is the douceur or pourboire of France; the trinkgeld or shmeirgeld of Germany; and the buon ma.no of Italy — all being constanl sources of irritation to the traveller. The tourisl in the west of [reland must more than suspeel its existence anion- "the finest pisantry in the world," though it takes the form there of a "thrifle, yer honor!" Traces of it are not wanting in England and Scotland. Does the British Arab -how ordinary civility? — does ho direct one on his road, answer a few questions, devote a minute of his idle time to help you, open a cab door in the city, or a gate in the country \ Backsheesh is demanded as "sum'ut to drink," or hope of it i- expressed by the eye as the hand touches the cap. Does a r of a church— a sort of Eadji— show you its inside, or point Miii an illustrious grave within or without it? neither his piety nor his humanity ever makes him forget backsheesh. Does any servant, male or female, belonging to peer or parson in the land - whether represented by the aristocratic "Jeames " or the maid-of- all-work " Susan " — does the groom, butler, coachman, footman, or keeper, who are ted sumptuously, clothed handsomely, and paid liberally, perform any one art of civility towards you with- out expecting backsheesh^ What is the British "tip," "fee." "Christmas Box," "trifle," &c, hut backsheesh? Even while 1 JAFFA. write, a correspondence is going on in the I- Ion Times, accusing and defending the head servants (Cawasses of the West-end nobility Pashas) for demanding a per-centage for themselves from tradesmen on the accounts paid by their masters, and this because of the servants' patronage; ad the patronage of the master who pays for the goods, bu1 of the servaril who orders them ! Whal is this 1 >ut backsheesh in its worst form, as a mean and dish bribe? Please let us cover with a mantle, or with even a napkin of charity, the demand for backsheesh made by the wretched peasantry of the East, until we banish it from our own well-to-do people, and from our own wealthy and aristocratic homes. The Arabs at Jimsu asked backsheesh, and we distributed about sixpence among the tribe. They were satisfied. But I had provided a talisman wherewith to "soothe tin- sa^ breast." I selected it for a j>r/<>ri reasons, founded on human nature, before leaving London. Instead of taking powder and shot, I took — could the reader ever guess what ? — a m usical sn un- box, to conquer the Arabs; and the experiment succeeded far beyond my most sanguine expectations. Whenever we pitched our tent near a village, as on this occasion, and produced the box as a social reformer, we had soon a considerable number of ] pie, old and young (the females keeping at a respectful distance . crowding round us, inquisitively bui not disagreeably. When the box was wound up, and the tinkling sounds were heard, they gazed on it with an expression more of awe and fear than ol wonder. It was difficult to get any one to venture near it. far less to allow it to touch his head. But once this was accomplished, it was truly delightful to see the revolution which those beautiful notes, as they sounded clear and loud through the Arab skull, produced upon the features of the listener. The anxious brow was smoothed, the black eye lighted up. the lips were parted in a broad smile which revealed the ivory teeth, and the whole man seemed to become humanised as he murmured with delight, Q 6 EASTWARD. ■• tayeeb, tayeeb" good, good). Winn once the fears of one were dispelled, the others took courage, until there was a general scramble and competition, from the village patriarch down to his orandchildren, to hear the wonderful little box which could ring such marvellous music through the brain. We respectfully re- commeud the small "musical snuff-box" to travellers. Even a1 sea, when the storm or deck blows loudly, and the waves are rude and boisterous, and the passengers sleepy or unamiable, and read- ing difficult, and the thoughts no1 bright, they will find that the D0X — never sea-sick — wound up and allowed to twitter and tinkle old familiar airs, will prove a very cheerful companion. But let me warn any traveller toll., wine' us in our route, that should he hear an Arab attempting to sing "Home, sweel home," or "Ah, ch la morte" not to attribute too hastily a purely Eastern origin to these airs. I did not find my firsl Dight in a tent either ideal or agreeable. The ear was as yet unaccustomed to the heterogeneous noise which found an easy entrance through the canvas. All night the horses and nudes seemed to he settling old quarrels, or to he in violent dispute aboul some matters of personal or local interest ; ,-i -civ, iin. a kick, a stumble over the tint ropes — shaking our frail habitation and making us start — appeared to mark a climax in the argument. The Arabs kept up an incessant jabber all night it seemed to me. The voices, too, of Meeki and Hadji were constantly heard amidst the Babel. Every village, moreover, has it - dogs withoul number : and these barked, howled, and (lew about as if smitten with hydrophobia, or in full cry of a midnight chase. One imagined, too — or, worse than all, believed- that some of those wolfish and unclean animals were snuffling under the canvas close to the bed, or thumping against it, as if trying to get an entrance. And if this living creature rubbing against your thin wall was not a dog, might it net he an Arab I — and if an Arab might he not have a gun or dagger? — and then! But all these I UFA. 97 experiences belonged to our novitiate. Very soon, between in- creased fatigue by day, and increased sleep by night, til] it could increase no more without becoming apoplectic, all such thoughts and fears vanished, until dogs mighi bark, horses kick, Arabs talk anmpetent, — still he must rise! At such moments - I write feelingly- the most sacred memories of holy places, the mo desire to acquire knowledge, the poetry of Palestine travel, " Robinson/ 1 "Stanley," and "Eo-then," lose their power to rouse. The whole being seems concentrated into a jelly, like the blood of St. Janu- arius. But in the meantime the pins of the tout are being pulled up. The ropes slacken, the tent-pole quivers, and to your horror you discover that your canvas dwelling is being taken down, and that in a few minutes, unless you start up and get dressed, you will be exposed in bed in open daylight, to the gaze of a ci of grinning Arabs with piercing eyes and white teeth, who are watching for you as the tag-rag of a town for the removal of the canvas which conceals the wild beasts at a show. Move you must, therefore move you do. Very soon thereafter the beds are rolled up, the baggage packed, and everything stowed away on horse or mule's back, except the breakfast-table and camp around it, where the moveable feast is served up. lint thai pack- ing ! It was always a study to us, and never failed to excite remark and laughter. On such an occasion Moeki, the master ol the horse, came out in the full strength of his power and p He reigned triumphant, His spirit seemed t«> inspire all the muleteers and the Arabs who assisted hint, so that a common hysterical vehemence seized the whole group. They Bhouted, screeched, yelled, without a moment's pause. All seemed to be in a towering passion at every person and even thin-, and to ho hoarse with rage and guttural vociferation Every parcel was strapped with a force and rapidity as if life depended on it. The EASTWARD. heavy packages were lifted with starting eyeballs and foaming lips ..,i to the backs of the mules. One heard ever and anon a despairing cry as if from a throat clutched by a garottcr, "Had — ji a— li '." which after a while drew forth the Chief with a calm and placid smile to decide the question in dispute. As the dread turmoil drew to a conclusion, the cook, the packing of whose utensils our breakfast necessarily retarded, became the great object of attention, and "Mo — ham — med !" was syllabled with intense vehemence by the impetuous Meeki or one of his aids, whose pride and dignity prompted a careful imitation of the master. At last the long line of our baggage animals moved, with trunks of crockery, rolls of bedding, and piles of portmanteaus and bags. Off the loaded animals went at a trot, with the bells tingling round their necks, the muleteers following on foot, and driving them along the rough path at a far more rapid pace than we could follow. Meeki then took off his turban, dried his head, lighted hie nargile, sat sideways on his dot of an ass, and brought up the rear of our cavalcade with a calmness and peace which had no traces of even the heavy swell that generally follows a hurricane by sea or land. Foaming and raging seemed to be the stereotyped way of doing business here, just as it is sometimes with preachers, who appear to think that vehemence, even in commonplace, is necessary as a guarantee of earnestness. One or two other characteristics of every spring morning in Palestine may be here mentioned. Nothing can exceed the buoyant, exhilarating atmosphere. The dews of night, which are so heavy that any garments left out become saturated with moisture as if soaked in a tub of water, seem to invigorate the air as well as the vegetation. There is consequently a youth, life, and fragrance in these mornings which cannot be surpassed even in the higher valleys of Switzerland, where the air is such that one can breathe it as a positive luxury. It is at these times, when the grass is heavy with dew, and the flowers give out their odour, and NEBV SAM W I I. the air is cool and clear as crystal, and the bodj i- refreshed with sleep — and, let us add, with breakfast— and the mind is on the qui vive for sights, and the memory lull of the past, and onr up to the mark, and the path tolerable, and the whole party well, hearty, and agreeable — it is at these times thai one mot rejoices in existence, feels it to be all " May from crown to heel," and blesses Providence for the great mercy of being in the Holy Land As the day advances, and the sun begins to pour down his beat, and the flesh becomes weak, the touts somehow appear to 1m- too far "ft'. The cavalcade generally rides along in single file. There i- seldom a path, or a bit of meadow, which permits of two jogging on together. But there is, after all, no great disadvantage in this limitation of riding space or of social conference, as there i- no country in which silent thought and observation during ;i journey are more congenial than in Palestine. The deliberate choosing of a Scripture scene for a place for lunch, at first sounded as if it were an irreverence. Hadji rides up and inquires — "Where shall we lonch, Hakeem Pasha (" adding with a humble smile: "Where you please! All same to me." Where shall it be? At Bethlehem? Bethel? Shiloh I Nain? is discussed by the party. At first thought, it scorns out of place to propose such a carnal thing as lunching on hard eggs and cold lamb at such places. Yet at these places one lunches or din.-, ae the Patriarchs did before them. The path by which we ascended the Judean hills from the plain to the ridge at Gibeon is not, I believe, so rugged a- tin- other leading from Jaffa to Jerusalem by Ramleh, but it is neverth one of the worst traversed by us in Palestine. With tV\ ceptions, indeed — as when crossing a plain, or some rare hit of tolerably level country — the so-called roads are as rough as the bridle-paths across the Swiss or Highland hill-. They are either covered with loose stones, or arc worn down, by the travelling over them since the .lavs of the Canaanites, into narrow ditches io2 EASTWARD. cut deep into the living rock; or they go across slippery lime- stone ledges ; or over a scries of big stones with deep holes between ; or are the channels of streams, which have the one advantage of being supplied with water to cool the hoofs of the floundering quadrupeds. But the horses are remarkably sure- 1, and the only danger arises from their riders checking them with the bridle, rather than letting them take their own way, and step with judicious thoughtfulness, as it often seemed to us, from stone to stone, picking their way with marvellous sagacity. Their pace is very slow. Not but that a rider with a "noble Arab steed" can manage to dash along and make "the stony pebbles fly" behind him; but this requires a good horse familiar with the ground, and a good rider as thoroughly acquainted with his horse. Ordinary mortals who like safety, not to speak of ease, take it quietly at the rate of three or four miles an hour. The length of the day's journey varies; 1 mt it is seldom under seven, and hardly ever above ten hours, including the time consumed at lunch and rest in the heat of the day (which is generally more than an hour), and in examining objects of interest en route. We paced slowly upwards over polished limestone or marble rocks, in some places actually up artificial steps. One hour from Jiinsu brought us to the lower Beth-horon, now called Beitur El Talita ; another hour to the upper Beth-horon, or Beitur El Foca* In two hours more we reached the upland plateau, and after cross- ing the ridge saw Gibeon (El Jib) before us. Passing it on its eastern side, near which our tents were pitched, we ascended Neby SamwiL I shall return to some features of the ascent, and the story of this famous road, but must in the meantime ask the reader to * The view from the roof of the Sheik's house at the upper Beth-horon should d l.y every traveller, NEBY SAMWIL 103 accompany me, with open eyes ami heart, no1 forgetting fancy, to the height which wo have reached in our journey Eastward. There is not, I venture to affirm, in all Palestine, nor, if historical associations be taken into account, in the whole world, such a view as that seen from Neby Samwil. This is not because of its height (2650 feet)— though it is the highesl point in Palestine, Eebron excepted — but from its position in relation to surrounding obj This makes it a sort of centre, commanding such views of the most illustrious spots on earth, as no other place affords, It was from this summit— so at least it is said — thai Richard Cceur do Lion first beheld Jerusalem, and exclaimed, as he covered his face: "Ah, Lord God, I pray that I may never see thy Eoly City, if so be that I may not rescue it from the hands of thine enemies." From hence also the great mediaeval poet Juda Bato i is supposed to have first beheld the sacred city, and to have had those glowing memories and passionate sorrows awakened which he has embodied in a poem yet famous among his people, and which pours forth a wailing lament that finds an echo in the heart of all the outcast children of Israel. I know it only through a German translation read to me nearly twenty yens ago by my very learned friend Dr. Bicsenthal, of Berlin, himself of tin of Abraham. The sentiment in one of the verses has clung to mo. The poet, as he gazes at Jerusalem, cries out of a depth of Borrow which is past feeling, and turns the heart into stone. Ho wishes to feel and consciously to realise the misery which the spectacle of his "mother, dear Jerusalem," and the triumph of the heathen over her, ought to inspire. And so he sings to this effect : — God ! my cup of sorrow is too full ! 1 cannot feel the grief I wish t<> u .1. Take from it one drop— another- y. t anothi r Then shall 1 drink it t.> tin- \. v\ d» I mention those associations, for they were those that came to io4 EASTWARD. me at the time, with many others, like tumultuous waves from the past, mingled too with much that was painfully trivial: — the common effed of that strange reaction from the tension of the mind, experienced on such occasions as the present, when ap- proaching a moment in life that is to divide for ever what has been Longed for from what is to be realised, and become hence- forward only a memory. We have all experienced at such times the clinking- at the heart, the suppressed emotion, as the dream of years is about to become a reality. In a few minutes, when that height is gained, we shall have seen Jerusalem ! So I felt, but in a less degree, when approaching Niagara, and when I was led blindfolded to the edge of the Table-rock, in order that the whole glory of the ocean of water pouring into the seething abyss might at once be revealed. But what was any scene on earth in com- parison with the one which we were about to gaze on ! The summit was reached in solemn silence. There was no need of a guide to tell us what to look at first Every face was turned towards Jerusalem. The eye and heart caught it at once, as they would a parent's bier in the empty chamber of death. The round hill dotted with trees, the dome beneath, the few minarets near it, — there were Olivet and Jerusalem ! No words were spoken, no exclamations heard ; nor are any explanations needed to enable the reader to understand our feelings when seeing, for the first time, the city of the Great King. After a time we began with suppressed eagerness to search out other objects in the landscape, and the curiosity became intense to identify its several features ; and then we heard w r ords breathed quietly into our ears, as an arm was stretched out directing us to several famous spots whose names were holy, and which summoned up the mosl illustrious persons and events in the memory of the Christian. But I must patiently consider the panorama more in detail, that we may learn something from it, for we cannot stand on any sjtoi in Palestine from which we can see or learn more. NEB\ SAMW1L After Jerusalem, the firsl objecl thai arrested me was the range of the hills of Moab. There are man} places in Palestine that, when first seen, are to us as old friends. Previous reading, and illustrations, have made them familiar. But though I was in some degree prepared to recognise the range of Moab as a remarkable feature in the landscape, and as telling on the 3cenery of "the land" — yet somehow the reality far surpassed mj expectation. These mountains reared themselves like a straight unbroken wall, not one peak or point breaking the even line along the eastern sky from north to south. They were not higher above the level of the sea than the place on which we stood; yel the} seemed to form a gigantic barrier between as and the almosl unknown country beyond, and their effect on the character of the landscape was decided. They "were a frame or setting to it. giving it a dignity, elevation, strength, and majesty, without which it would have been flat, tamo, and comparatively uninteresting. No doubt we saw the rang*.' in the most advantageous circumstancea It was towards evening. The setting sun fell upon it, and upon tin- wild eastern shores of the Dead Sea at its base, the sea itself being hidden in its deep hollow grave The light was reflected from every scaur and precipice, with such a flush of purple, mingled w ith delicate hues of amethyst and ruby, as produced a glory not exaggerated in Holman Hunt's picture of " The Scape Goat." The atmosphere, too, was so transparent, that we dis- tinctly saw beyond the Dead Sea what appeared to us a white building, situated on a point, in a straight line, ove] or near Jerusalem. Was this Kerak ? There are no other human habitations in that direction. The next thing that impressed me, standing here, was the smallness oi the land. We saw across it. On one side was the great sea, on which sails were visible ; on the ether, the range of Moab, which is beyond the eastern boundary of Palestine. To the south we saw within a few miles of Eebron; while to the north p io6 EASTWARD. we discovered the steep promontory of Carmel plunging its beak into the sea, It is difficult to conceive thai the Palestine of the Patriarchs — that is, the country from the inhabited "south" to the great plain of Esdraelon, which, like a green strait, sweeps • larmel to the steeps above the Jordan, and separates the old historical land of Canaan from Galilee — lees not extend further than the distance between Glasgow and Perth, and could be tra- versed by an express train in two or three hours. But so it is. The whole land, even from Dan to Beersheba, is not larger than Wales. We saw not only the entire breadth but almost the entire length of the Palestine of the Patriarchs from the height of Neby Samwil. To some extent the general structure of the country was also visible. We had to the west the dead il.it Philistine plain skirting- tie- Mediterranean, and spreading itself about ten miles inland, where, like a sea, it formed green bays at the foot of the Judcan hills. We were standing on one of the rugged sides of that centra] mountain ridge of Palestine, which, like a capsized flat- bottomed boat of corrugated iron, lay between the sea and the .Ionian. We were looking down from the keel of this boat, a few hundred feet above the undulating, rough table-land with its small hills, which, to carry out the rude simile, were stuck, like huge limpets, over the boat's bottom. The other side of the gunwale rolled over out of sight, and rested on the plain of the Jordan, which rushed along its outer edge, while the wall of Moab rose beyond. Hue cud of this same capsized boat descended to the plain of Esdraelon, the other to the deserl beyond Hebron. Its corrugated sides are the Wadies that cut deep towards the Philis- tine plain on the wot, and the plain of the Jordan on the east. And how did the land look i Was it picturesque ? Had it that romantic beauty of hill and dale, that look of a see,, nil Paradise which one has sometimes heard in descriptions of it from the pulpit ? Well, it did not give me this impression, — but what NEBY SAMWIL then I What it' it is ao\ to be compared with ft thou I pota in our own island -which by the \\i\ include within it- i shores more scenes of varied beauty than any other porti f the earth ; — what if Westmoreland and Wales, no! t i p ale of the Scotch Highlands, contain Landscapes far more Lovely than are to bu found in Palestine? Still Palestine stands alone; il in its boundaries of seas and sandy des srts an I snow-clad mounl and alone in the variety of its soil, climate, and productiona I do not claim for it either beauty or grandeur — -which may b • found in almost every region of the globe — but I claim for it peculiarities and contrasts to which no other region can afford a parallel. Grant its present poor condition, its streams dried up, its tillage neglected, its statuesque scenery unsubdued by the meU and softening influences of a moist atmosphere, its roads rough, its hills bare, and its limestone rocks unprotected by soil, it- villages wretched hovels, its towns extinct, its peasantry or robbers — what then? Is there no poetry in this desolation which, if it does not represent the past, is ye1 the picture which flashed before the spiritual eye of the mourning pro] Is there no poetry either in the harmony between the rocky sternness of the land and the nun of moral thews and sinews which it produced; or in the contrast between it- QOthil as a land of physical greatness and glory, and the and glory of the persons and events which were cradled in it- little Wadies and on its small rocky eminences % l> there uo poetry, nothing affecting to the imagination, in the physical structure of a country which is without a parallel on earth '. For within a space so small that the eye can take it in from more thai point, there are heights, Like Eermon, covered with i t< rnal -u >w, and depths like the Jordan valley with a heat exceeding th the tropics ; there is on onesidethe sea, and on the other a lake whose surface is 1300 feet lower down, with sound deep again. Where is there such a river as the J< rdan, whi se turbulent io8 EASTWARD. waters never gladdened a human habitation, nor ever irrigated a green field, — which pursues its continuous course for 200 miles within a space easily visible, and ends at last in the sea of death never to reappear '( Where on earth is there such a variety "1 i _ tation, from the palm on the sultry plain to the Lichen beside the -lacier ? — where such howling wildernesses, such dreary and utterly desolate wastes, with such luxuriant plains, fertile valleys, pasture lands, vineyards, and corn-fields? — where such a climate, varying through every degr< f temperature and of moisture? Of a truth the beautiful is not necessarily associated with what stirs the human mind to wonder and admiration. Who thinks of the beautiful when visiting a churchyard, where the great and g 1 lie interred ; or a battle-field, where courage and self-sacrifice won the liberties of the world ; or a spot like the bare rough rock of the Areopagus on which stood the lowly, unknown, despised Jew revealing truths to Athens such as Plato the spiritual and Socrates the God-fearing had never discovered I Or who thinks of the beautiful in thinking about Paul himself, '• whoso bodily presence was weak," although he was the greatest man as a teacher that ever lived? Not for one moment then did I feel disappointed with Palestine. It was the greatesl poem I ever read, full of tragic grandeur and sweetest hymns. J did not look for beauty, and therefore was not surprised at its absence; but 1 did look for the battle scenes for the Marathon and Thermopylae — of the world's civilisation, and for the earthly stage on which real men of flesh and Mood, but full of the spirit of the living God, played out their grand parts, and sung their immortal songs, which have revolutionised the world, and I found it no other than I looked for, to my cease- less joy and thanksgh ing. Excuse, good reader, these digressions; and let us once more attend to the details of the landscape. Look with me toward- the west. Our backs are consequently NEBY SAM W I I. to the hills of Rloab, and our faces toward tli whi< stretches as an immense blue plain, ending in the hoi rather in a drapery of Luminous cloud m i can exa ■' where. The shore you see is a straighl line running north and south; and we can distinguish a1 this distance ■ twent/ miles, the Long sandy downs thai separate the blue sea from 1 1 1 « - green sea of plain. Look southward along the Bhore thai truding point of the Judean hills conceals Askelon from us, thai confused-looking mound on the plain, marks the Bite ol Ashdod : another smaller Tell, scarcely visible, a little to the Lefl of Raraleh, is Ekron. We are already acquainted with Ramleh and Lydda distinctly seen beneath us on the plain. Beyond them is Jaffa our old friend, like a grey turban on its hill. Now, carrying the eye along the sea from Jaffa northward, you perceive, over the low spurs of the hills which conceal the resl of the sea-shore, thai headland— it is Carmel ! This view gives us an excellent idea of the relationship betwei the uplands of Judea, on which we stand, and the alluvial plai of Philistia and Sharon, whose rich soil, pastures, and corn-fiel< with its harbours, its access to the sea, and its adaptedness war chariots, accounts to us for the aumbers and power ol hold and unscrupulous inhabitants. Now let us turn in the opposite direction, from th west, with the range of Moab along the skyline opposite I and the table-land of Judea, a few miles broad, al our feet I. ing to the right, southward, we see the undulating hills arou ami beyond Bethlehem, which is itself unseen, being nesl Lower down. That marked summit rising bey 1 Bethleh like a mound between as and the golden hills of Moab, Fureidis, where Eerod lies buried. Nearer, bul in the direc tion, and aboul six miles off, are Jerusalem and 01 R und er us, the eye slowly passing northward, we see th, conical hill ofjabel Ful, or Gibeah of Saul ; onwards to the north, on our lefl EASTWARD. is the country round Bethel, with El-Ram, Geba, and Micmash : while further beyond, the mountains of Ephraim cluster on the horizon, and shut in our view. Beside us is Gibeon, and the scene of the great battle of Beth-horon, which completes our circle and O J. carries us hack to the point from which we Malted. The slightest idea of this panorama, the faintest impression which words assisted by the map can convey, will surest to the reader what we realised in gazing upon it — that, on the whole, it is the most interesting view in the world. But "\ve are not yet done with Neby Samwil, if our readers will have patience and tolerate as and our geography a little longer. The hill is a great teacher — a comment on Scripture — a light to its sacred pages — a photographer of its stories. For the history of Palestine cannot be separated from its geography. What a con- fused idea of the history of Great Britain, for instance, would a man have, if to him Edinburgh was at Land's End, and London near Aberdeen ; the Highland hills in Hampshire, or the midland counties in Skye or Caithness? What would be the history of modern Europe to him, if his Waterloo was in the Danubian Provinces, and Moscow at Inverness? Yet such an arrangement of places is not more incongruous than are the ideas of many tolerably intelligent people whom I have met, with regard to the <_■ ography of Palestine. Now we see with our own eyes, from Neby Samwil, the scenes, as I have said, of several Scripture narratives. As we look down on the maritime plain, we see Azotus (Ashdod), where Philip was found, and follow his track along the sea-shore as he passed uorthward to Csesarea.* In Ashdod and Ekron, both visible, abode the aik of God for seven months. We see Lydda, where Peter healed Eneas; Joppa, from which tin \ sent for him when Don-as died, and from which he after- * " J'.ut Philip was found at A/ bi s: and passing through he preached in all the cities, till he came to Caesarea." — Acts viii. to. N KI'.Y SAM \\ I L wards journeyed to meet ( lorneliu I n trace for the first time the footsteps of Si. Paul, for d path by the Beth-horons Ik* probably descended twic from Jerusalem to Caesarea -in both cases to save hi- life.f Standing here, we understand also the great battle which Joshua waged against the petty, yet, in their own place and amongsl their own numerous tribes, powerful chiefs of the heathen pi ople of the land. For at our feet is the hill mi which the village of El-Jib is now built, but which, as ] have said, represents the old cit\ of Gibeon, the capital of a numerous though not very valiant clan, and which commanded this greal pass from the plain to the Jordan. From this spot wont those cunning diplomatists, the < ribeonit deceive Joshua, their want of truth all the while arising from a practical faith in Joshua as a great general and a veritabli queror of the land. And out of those as \ct to u, unseen depths which plunge from the table-land of Judea towards the Jordan, Joshua and his host made that wonderful march by nighl up 3000 feet and for about twenty miles, until he reached Gibeon, his army in the morning rising like the sudden Hood of a stornrj column after column pouring over the ridge into the uplan I plain round El-Jib, on which the heathen hosl were encamped, then * " And it came to pass, us Peter passed thr.iuuh all quarters, he came down also to the saints which dwelt at Lydda. . . . And all that dwelt at Lydda and Saron saw him, and turned to the Lord Lad forasmuch aa Lydda waa nigh x-> Joppa, and the disciples had heard that Peter waa th< re, they sent nut . him two men, desiring him that he would no1 delay t > cornel i them." \ f " And he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disput id against the Grecians: but they went about to slay him. Which when the Diet theybrought him down to Caesarea, and senl him forth t i Tarsus," \ I " And when it was day, certain of the. lew- banded I gether, and bound I selves under a curse, saying that they would neither eat aor drink till the; killed Paul. . . . And he called unt > him tw.>e ut □ . saying, Maki hundred soldiers to go to Caesarea, and horsemen tin men two hundred, at the third hour of the night tad provide thorn that they may set I'aul on, and bring him Bafe unt I F< lu the gfOV< in xxiii. 12, 23,24. EASTWARD. dashing among them, and sweeping them over the western ridge down the wild stei ps thai Lead to the Philistian plain. The battle-field explained the battle. The roul must have been ter- rible! I have visited many battle-fields, but except those where Sua arrow fought in the High Alps, or those in the Pyrenees where Wellington encountered Soult, I never saw any so wild as this. From the dip of the strata rocks clothe the sides of the hills like the scales of a huge monster, overlapping each other, yel leaving deep interstices between. Sleep gorges and narrow valleys cleave the lulls as with deep gashes on every side of the road. After riding up the ascent to the plain of Gibeon, we understood how a demoralised army would in flight become utterly powerless, and, if panic-stricken, be hurled over each succeeding range of rocks.* Down beneath us was a green hay running from Philistia into the bosom of the hills. It was Ajalon ! The Arabs call it Yah). But it is time to withdraw our gaze from the distant landscape, and our thoughts from what it surest s. and come back once more to O DO ? Neby Samwil. The spot itself calls up many memories of the past. Here, probably, was the famous "High Place" of Gibeon, where the tabernacle constructed by Moses, and which had been the move- able temple throughout the wilderness journey, was pitched, after many wanderings, and stood until Solomon's Temple was built at Jerusalem.-]- Here public worship was conducted, by a staff of priests appointed by David, around the brazen altar of Moses; — tor "he left there before the ark" of the covenant of the Lord " See Appendix X". ill. t It is, I think, extremely unlikely that the lower hill of Gibeon, on the northern portion of which Kl-.Jili is lmilt, and which is almost concealed in an up- land fiat fenced off by an encircling ridge, should, as some suppose, have been I he high place of Gibeon, instead of Neby Sam wil, which stands up like a high altar, visible from tin- surrounding country. I agree with Dr. Stanley in believing that neither was Mizpeh the high place. The mere fact, of the si me- of Hainan having 1 1' mi in-, in j In to Mizpeh make- Lt, to say the Leasl of Lt, extremely improbable that ili- ried to this high place. Scopus meets the whole requirements of the Asaph and his brethren, to minister before the ark continually, .1 every day's work required; and Obed-edom with their brethren, threescore and eight; Obed-edora also the - f Jeduthun and Hosah to be porters ; and Zadok the priest, and hie brethren the priests, before the tabernacle of the Lord in the high place thai was at Gibeon, to offer burnt-offeringa unto the Lord upon the altar of the burnt-offering continually morning and evening, and to do according to all that is written in the law of the Lord, which he commanded Israel; and with them Heman and Jeduthun, and the rest that were chosen, who were expressed bj came, to give thanks to the Lord, because his mercy endureth for ever; and with them Heman and Jeduthun with trumpets and cymbals those that should make a sound, and with musical instruments of God. And the sons of Jeduthun were porters. And all the people departed every man to Ids house: and David returned to bless his house." It was the scene, too, of one of the mosl imposing pageants ever witnessed in Judea, when Solomon, wit! all that°show, splendour, and magnificence which are a :iated with his name, "went to Gibeon to sacrifice there ; fur that was great high place- a thousand 1 mint offerings did Solomon off rupoi that altar." (1 Kings iii. 4.) Here, too, in ( dl u,the Lord appeal to Solomon in a dream by night, and God said unto him, \ Ishallgivetothee."(2Chron.i.7.) And he asked wisdom, and & I left the top of Neby Samwil with devoutesl thanksgivm feeling that if I saw no mere, hut were obliged to return nexl da) to Europe, my journey would have been well repaid. As the sun set, we descended the steep and rugged lull to our ten- \ fully enjoyed the comfort and re] which they afforded was busy with the dinner; Meeki was enjoying his nargil. all around, were kneeling camels, belonging - me travc Ara bs, chewing their evening meal of chopped straw in which the horses and mules of our cavalcade heartily joined them With one stride came the dark" yet a dark illumined by tl n 4 EASTWARD. stars which we never grew weary of looking al in this glorious sky. By-and-by the chatter of the Arabs from Gibeon grew less, and the crowd dispersed. Even Meeki seemed to be dozing. The camel-drivers wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and lay curled up on the ground, like brown snails, beside their meek-eyed beasts. The quadrupeds, too, after paying off a few private griev- ances with sundry kicks and sharp cries, sank into silence; at leasl I supposed they did so, for I, with my companions, soon fell into deep sleep on ground where Hivite and Perizzite had slept before me, and which had thundered to their tread as they rushed along before the storm of Joshua's fierce attack. Next morning we visited Gibeon (El-Jib) and its immediate neighbourhood. The accompanying view of it from the plain to the west, will give an idea of its limestone ledges and general appearance.* The mosl remarkable thing about it belonging to the pasl is a spring in a large cave, to which worn steps, ciit out of the reck, descend. Near this is a large pool, as large as that of Hebron, hut dried up. It was most probably the scene of the battle »' Voutrance between the men of Judah and Benjamin.i" Here, tee. Johanan fought the traitor Ishmael.J * The illustration of El-Jib (Gibeon) is copied from a photograph by Mr. Francis Bedford, taken during the torn- of H.R.H. the Prince of "Wales, and published by Messrs. Day and Son. I have pleasure in directing attention to this magnificent Beries of photographic views. f " Ami Abn< r the son of Ner, and the servants of Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, went out from Mahanaim to Gibeon. And Joab the bod of Zeruiah, and the servants of David, went out, and met together by the pool of Gibeon: and they sat down, the one on the one side of the pool, and the other on the other side of the peel. And Abner said to .Joab, Let the young men now arise, and play before qs. And Joab said, Let them arise. Then there arose and went over by number twelve of Benjamin, which pertained to Ish-bosheth the son of Saul, and twelve of the servants of David. And they caught every one his fellow by the head, and thrust hi> sword in hi-- fellow's side ; so they Fell dov n together : wherefore that place was called Eelkath-hazzurim, which is in Gibeon. And there was a very sore battle thai day; and Abner was beaten, and the men of Israel, before the servant- of David." — 2 Sam. ii. 12 —32. } '• But when Johanan the bod of Kareah, and all the captains of the Eorces that \ l.l IV SAMWIL As we descended from Gibeoni we -'\\ the i"|> of the hi Gibeah of Saul, risiDg over the l<>\\ eastern ridge It the the miserable, broken-hearted, bu1 Loving mother Riz] hung up for months on the top of Gibeah, they could I" from Gibeon by those who had demanded their cruel execution a horrid sight between them and the eastern sky I When but a few minutes on our journey, and a round the plain by the road which Leads to Jerusalem, w< attracted by a huge stone lying horizontal!} among others in t Low rocky ridge close to the path on the Left. Was this the stone of Gibeon?"* We could not decide whether it was in or placed there by the hands of man— or, even if it was in i whether it was the stone. There ever and anon occur in Bible history notices of great stones, rocks, caves, wells, &c. permaneu objects in nature— which, if travellers had only time and patiem to examine, would be to a large extent discoverable. We descended to the table-land of Judah before ooon, :nA entered upon a broad, rough, stony path— the greal northern r from Jerusalem to Galilee. We knew now thai we wen fori were with him, heard of all the evil that Ishmael the son of Nethaniah had i then they took all the men, and went to fight with [shmael the boh and found him by the great waters that are in Gibeon. Now it cam. when all the people which were with [shmael saw Johanan the bob all the captains of the forces that were with him, then they wer. people that Ishmael had carried away captive from Mispah cast about turned, and went unto Johanan the Bon of Kareah. Bu1 [ahmael .I, Nethaniah escaped from Johanan with eight men, and wenl to the Ann ^M^enthTy were at the great stone which is in Gil a, Amasa « them. And Joab's garment that he had pnl on was girded antohn a girdle with a sword fastened upon his loins in the sheath t went forth it fell out. And Joab said to Amasa, Art thou m 1 And Joab took Ama,a by the beaxd with the right hand to k^h - t^knoheedtotheswordthatwasmJoab'shand^sohee^otehn the fifth rib, and shed out his, ^els to the ground, and and he died. So Joab and Abishai his brother pursued Bichri."— 2 Sam. xx. 8—10. u6 EASTWARD. first time, on the highway along which priests ami kings, prophets and apostles, the holy men of old, and the One above all, had passed to and fro. We slowly came nearer Jerusalem. We passed over a grey ridge, like a roll of a sea wave, and saw the Damascus Gate before us. We turned down to the Left, towards the north- east corner of the wall, and got among Blohametan tombs, which for some reason or other were being visited by a number of women draped and veiled in white. We descended a hundred yards or so until we reached the road that passes from Anathoth to the citj ; travelled along it, with the Kedrou valley to our left, and Olivet rising beyond, — the city wall crowning the slope to our right, — and then rode up to St. Stephen's Gate, entered it, took off our hats as we passed the portal, but spoke not a word, for we had entered Jerusalem '. VI. JERUSALEM (WITHIN THE WALLS "You will be devoting a Chapter to Jerusalem ol cow remarked 'a grave and kind friend to whom I bad been some of my earlier chapters: "1 need aol say," he continued, "that you will write very seriously then, and have uo m irej " It is not my habit," was my reply, " to arrange beforehand when I shall laugh or weep; or at what point in my journey I shall smile or sigh: these emotions must come and go as the Boul listeth." "No doubt, no doubt," my friend said : " bui - he paused as if in difficulty. "But what?" I inquired. At Jerusalem, you know, one must be cautious. It is a peculiar pl aC e_very. Excuse me, but I thought I would take the liberty of giving you the hint. Not that/care; but there are people, you know— people who have odd notions— people who— who— « I understand," I said. " I am glad sou do," he continued, as somewhat relieved; "for there are people who- -who— yes, people, and sensible people too— who do not understand a cl< man if he but I see you understand what I would 1- i I need say no more." Then turning round, ho added, - / don myself object to a joke at all, even in Palestine ; but there are people who — you understand ? Good-by ! Yes, I quite understood my friend, as well as the g 1 p< whom he described with so much clearness. I remember a lady, whose mind was engrossed with the quest of the return of the Jews to Palestine, being dreadfull; by a religious and highly respectable man. who presumed I nS LAST WAR I). express the opinion in her hearing, that the time was not far distant when there might be a railway from Jaffa to Jerusalem, _~ i,V' & i'i - 1& Bite of Jerusalem. (From a drawing by Mr. F< Soopu? Tombs of the Kings, - i late st Stephen's 1 1 I Dai Id'sG 't' Jaffa G Pool "i HezeViah. Chnrch of the Holy Sepulchre. Rain. Cnotle "i i . Citadel. i"M yards to the iiuli. 21. En 11 1 1, Haram, or Holy Place, 22 I ppi ' Pool CI 1 1 1 : 1 1 II . 11 g . 5 i ,. Dome ni tli" Rock, and 16. The Mosques El-Aksa and Omar. intain of the Virgin. 18 Pillar of Absalom. ID Gethsi 20.' Shoulder of the Mounl ol Olives, « here " He beheld the citj . and in pi over it." 23. Lower Pool ■j4. Summit of the M Olives 26. Hill ol Bvil< ounsel 26 Mount of Corruption. , \ iiage ofSiloam. «, Pool dI Siloam, .'I Sepulchre of David. and the cry be beard from an English voice of, "Bethlehem Station !" 'flic fair friend of Israel thereu] lrew herself up J ERUSALEM \\ [THIN I II I. \\ ,\ 1 indignantly and exclaimed, "Pray, sir, don't be pi I unfortunate friend of progress went home thai night undui the impression that, unknown to himself, he had hitherto be«n an infidel. Now who could joke about anything in Palestine with such a fair one as this for his reader i Again, a relative of mine who visited Jerusalem a (1 ago, met there a sea-captain and his wile. The \, , ,||j, , from Newcastle, which the former commanded, or possibh the latter, from her manifest influence over her husband, had takeu refuge at Jaffa, and the captain had been induced b\ his lady to go up to Jerusalem to see the sights. My friend • d..\ noticed a serious controversy going on, in low whispers b< I the worthy pair, and accompanied by most dramatic looks and words, in which the wife seemed to he pleading some point with her husband, in whom signs of suppressed wonder, obstinacy, and anger were alternately manifested. Thinking they had got int., some perplexity from which he might he able to relieve them, my friend meekly offered his services. "Thank you, sir, most kindly," said the lady. "But I am really provoked with the captain; for he is, I am ashamed to say, sir, quite an unbelievi r. ' " Humbug, my dear !" interrupted the captain. " No humbug at all, sir," replied his mate, addressing my friend, "hut werj expen- sive unbelief too, I do assure you ; for what is the use, I'd like to know, of one's paying a guide for showing you .ill them famous places if one does not, like the captain, believe what the guide says?" " Easy, my dear," protested the honesl sailor, laying his hand quietly on his wife's arm ; " J knows and believes as well as you do the Scripturs, and knows that all them places are in the Bible ; but don't let any of them guides come it "'.■ i ra< with their lies, and tell me that that hill is the Mount oi Holivee, and that other place the Holy Sepulchre, and Calvary, and all that sort of thing. I came here t<> pleasi \ Jane, but not to have all them things crammed down m\ threat ; so belay. EASTW A R D. J II pay for your sake, but T won'1 believe them Jews : I knows them far too will: you don'1 '." Whether the captain was ever able to square the actual Jerusalem with his ideal one, I know Dot. Now these stories, literally true only illustrate in a ludicrous form the fact, that many people have, like the captain, a Jerusalem of their own — full of tin' beautiful, the sacred, the holy, and the g I — hut which is no more like the real Jerusalem than is the " New Jerusalem." Hence, when they visit Jerusalem, they are terribly disappointed; or when any traveller who has done so, describes it as he would any other city, and admits that he has toll some of the lighter and more ordinary emotions of humanitj in it, it looks to them almost like profanity, or what some people call, with equal wisdom, "irreverence." But, after all, there needs no effort to "get up" feeling in Jerusalem. It has no doubt its commonplace, prosaic features, more-,, indeed than most cities of the Eastern world; hut it has its glory, its waking-dreams, its power over the imagination and the whole spirit, such as no city on earth ever had. or can have. Therefore 1 shall tell what 1 saw and felt iii Jerusalem, how sun and shade alternated there, how smile and tear came and went in it, just as I would when speaking of any other spot on this materia] earth. Yet I entered Jerusalem with neither smile nor tear, hut with something between the two: for ] had no sooner doffed my tabousch in reverence as I passed through St Stephen's (late and experienced that queer feeling about the throat which makes one cough, and dims the eyes with old-fashioned tears, than my horse very probably owing to my want of clear vision began to slide and skate and stumble over the hard, round, polished stones which pave or spoil the road. I heard some of my companions saving. " Look at the Pool of Bethesda ! See the green errass of the lemple Area ! We are going to enter the Via Dolorosa!" J ERUSALEM WITH] N I ll I. \\ ALLS but how could I lake in the lull meaning of the word wh< a each announcement a fore-leg or a hind-leg of my hora in a slide or drew back with a Bhudder, and when th< bon broken bones became so presenl as for a n put to exclude .-ill other thoughts ? "Such is life," as the saying i-. And such flic prosaic circumstances of m\ entrance into Ji rusal< m. I tried, however, to make them more han ious with raj I odj and mind, by descending from my horse, handing him (•> Meeki, wiping my brow, and begging my brother to repeal some of bia information, while I sat on a portion of an old wall to listen. Within a few yards of the Gate of St. Stephen, by whicl entered, there was a large square space, into which we I. poked. It 'n phen's Uatc is a large tank, about 365 tod long, 30 broad, and 50 high enclosing walls, and is called the Pool "I Bethes bottom is earth and rubbish; but the ledge ia Bufficien northern slope, to afford room for a half-naked Aral. t.. plot with a scraggy ass. Its porches and everything lik< ■ EASTWARD. gone, and aothing remains save the rough walls of this great bath. Some say it was the ditch of the fortress of Antonia ; but we do not enter on such questions. Turning the eyes to the Left you see, about fifty yards off along the city wall, southward, a narrow gateway opening into the bright green grass, looking fresh and cool. That is our of the entrances into the Haram Area, or the wide, open space where once stood the Temple. But we dare not enter it at present, for it is holy ground, and we must get a letter from the Pasha, and pay him a good backsheesh to secularize the spot sufficiently to admit us. We shall pay for the privilege, and visit it by-and-by. In the meantime let ns walk to the hotel. Our path is along the so- called •• Via Dolorosa."' This is a narrow street, roughly paved, and hemmed in with ruined walls sadly wanting in mortar. In some parts there are arches overhead, and many delightful studies of old houses and ancient mason work-, which, by the way. a young lady was sketching as we passed, seated on a camp stool, with a white umbrella over her head. How one's thoughts went home to the happy English fireside, with paterfamilias, and brothers and sisters, looking over her drawings ! One repeats to himself as he goes along this street, "The Via Dolorosa!" — words so full of meaning, hut which the street does not help to interpret ; unless from its being, as seen "in the light of common day," a tumble-.down, poverty-stricken, hack lane, with- out anything which the eye can catch in harmony with the past. Was this the real "Via Dolorosa?" But we must not begin with our scepticism as to places, or encourage those "obstinate questionings" which constantly suggest themselves in Jerusalem. " The Church," no doubt, makes up for the silence of authentic history by supplying, out of her inexhaustible store of traditions, a -wide to pilgrims, which enables then, to see such holy spots as tic toll,, wing : — " The window in the 'Arch of Ecce II,, in,,,' from which Pilate addressed the people," — " the place where Pilate J ER1 SA1 l M \\ II II 1 \ i ii i. \\ VLLS declared his innocence," ■ - where J« u t< d Hi him," — " where Mary stood near Him a He p the places " where Jesus fell down under the weighl of the tlic spot where Simon had the cross laid upon him," All Jerusalem is thus dotted by the Church with fictitiou p Via Dolor so. in memoriam, to excite the devotion <>t' the faithful To their eye of "faith" the Via Dolorosa is necessarily a \>t\ diffi street from what it can possibly be to us whose "faith" quite so firm in tradition. After leaving the Via Dolorosa we passed through the baz but it is poor, squalid, and unworthy of any particular notice, aft< r * All such places ore carefully noted in bhe Lithographed " Album of J (from photography,) published by Zoeller, Vienna. 124 EASTWARD. those of Cairo, or even Alexandria. There was the usual narrow path between the Little dens called shops, with the accustomed turbans presiding over the usual wares -shoes, seeds, pipes, clothes, tobacco, hardware, cutlery, &c, while crowds moved to and fro wearing every shade of coloured clothes, and composed of every kind of out-of-the-way people, Jews, Turks, Greeks, Bedaween, with horses, asses, camels, all in a .state of excitement. We then went to an hotel to call for a friend. How shall 1 describe these so-called hotels ? I cannot indeed now separate in memory one hotel from the other — and there are but three in Jeru- salem. They are, however, wonderfully confused and picturesque, with their rooms, corners, passages, outside storeys from floor to floor, giving endless peeps of open sky, with balconies and flat roofs, all huddled together like a number of hat-cases, or band- boxes, and approached, not as in ether countries by an imposing door, over which hangs an enormous gilt sign of the Golden Bull, or Spread Eagle, or by an open court, beyond which drays, gigs, and carriages are seen, but by a steep, narrow trap stair, which ascends from a dour in tin' street, but which is more a slit in the wall than a door, and might conduct from a condemned cell to the gallows. This sort of architecture is very characteristic of a country where, in a moment's notice, or without it, the orthodox descendants of the Prophet might take it into their turbaned heads to gain heaven by attacking the hotel, under the influence of some fanatical furor. "There is no saying!" as the cautious and timid affirm when they expeel some mysterious iinj. And thus the steep stair rising from the narrow door, would serve as a mountain pass for the defenders of the hotel; while the more extended battle-field of the open spaces above, overlooked by upper storeys like overhanging precipices, would become strategic points of immense importance. The "travellers' room" in this hotel is not unlike what one finds in small country inns in Britain. The back windows are in a wall which forms one of the JERUSALEM— WITH [N in: '. . sides of the " Poo] of Eezekiab I" so called There th< voir lay, immediately beneath as, with its othei walls of houses, their small windows looking into it j which I gazed through did. It was an od I tion, whei withdrew his head and surveyed the room advertising "Bass" and "AUsopp." No wonder the captai sceptical as to his being in the Eoly City of his earlj My first desire on entering the hotel wa id to the upp< r most roof to obtain a glimpse of the city. I was enabled I my wishes, and to sec over a confusion of flal and domed build pleasantly relieved here and there by green grass and treea The elegant "Dome of the Rock" rose ever them all, while aboi beyond it was the grey and green Mount of 01i\ trees. To take in this view at first was impossible. < >ne rep to himself, as if to drive the fact into his brain, or as if i I I a person asleep or half idiotic, " That is the Riounl of that is the Mount of Olives! Do you comprehend what 1 am saying?" "No, I don't," was the stupid reply ; " I - e that hill, and hear you repeat its name; but in the meantime I am a and dreaming; yet, as I know that I an, asleep, perhaps half-intelligent consciousness hopefully proph< sies a waking up. Before going to our own "khan," we went to the p letters from home. It was an odd sort of cabin, and was i by a flight of outside stairs rising from the street leading I Jaffa Gate. Letters from home '. Were you ever abroad, re* If not, you cannot understand the pleasure of getting reminds us of the olden days when we left home for the t One of the blessings of travel is the new world, or rather a worlds, into which it introduces us,-worlds no doubt beings singularly like ourselves; bul yel to whom our wh of ordinary thought, and the ten thousand th believe, do, suffer from, or hope for, all are utterly unkn i an« uncared for, just as the troubles of the landlord of a J 126 EASTWARD. hoi 1 are unknown to the Sultan and disturb not his repose. Bui this feeling of being the inhabitant of another world only enhances the delighl of receiving Letters from our old world, detailing the characteristic sayings and doings of the circle, smaller or greater, run n< 1 the warm centre of that blessed spot called our fireside. It is singular how hazy many of our friends become in a few weks. Old neighbours become myths, and local disputes faint echoes from a pre-existent state of being. Letters read, and good news received by all, we went to our hotel, which from a small board a foot or so long,. nailed over the narrow door, wo discovered to be "The Damascus." Hadji Ali had procured tor us three rooms on the first landing, which opened on a paved court whose roof was the glorious sky. The rooms were vaulted, clean, and comfortable, and not intolerably muggy. The beds had mosquito curtains, and the floors were flagged. The supply of water from a pump near our doors was unlimited. Our retainers had a space allotted to themselves, where they squatted like gipsies, cooked tor us in the open air, and lived very much as they would have done in the desert. Meeki and his muleteers were the only absentees, and where they lived 1 know not. Very probably it was in the stables with their horses and asses, whose sleep they would no doubt disturb. Hadji and his coadjutors, Nubi the waiter and Mohammed the cook, took the sole charge of US while in this domicile; so that I do not know whether there were any persons in the hotel in the capacity of host or waiters. There were among its inhabitants an English party, whose ortho- doxy we can certify from their rising early, sometimes before the sun, to discharge their religious duties in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. Anion-- them was an intelligent, agreeable, and pious High Church clergyman. They were housed in places reached by outside stairs, somewhere among the highesl root's of the many- rooted building. On the evening of our arrival, I climbed over their apartments, ascending to the highest point by a ladder, and J ERUSALEM— WITHIN THE \\ '. from thence I again saw ( Uivet, jusl ae il h were colouring ii with a golden hue, and making the Dome of the Rock sparkle with touches of brillianl light. And from 1 1 1 . spot I saw it immediatelj before sunrise nexl morning when the silence of the city, and the freshness of the air, and the shadows casl from the hill,gave it a quite different, bul equally fascii aspect. And thus slowly, bu1 \l> s. 1 oli hre. I. Principal Entrance, j. Chape) of the Angel. 3. Holy Sepulchre. i Greel Chapel, and " I I nth." 5. Latin I I the human race, has its chapel, adorned with barbaric spl< i in the centre, where it claims the sole privilege and honour o receiving once a year from Heaven, and of transmitting faithful— that is to the Greeks— miraculous fire r< pres< m in- Holy Spirit, The Latins, as they are called in the I Catholics, as they call themselves, or the Papists to call them, also have a chapel and s< rvice, and loudly pr< very supreme contempl for the Greeks and their I 130 EASTWARD. tion — as if they themselves were perfectly innocent of such infirmities, and as it' they had not for centuries, until they lost the privilege by accident, shared in the rites and gains of this Holy Fire! The Greeks retaliate by expressing feelings of dislike and horror at "the image worshippers." The Copts and Armenians, as members of the one undivided Church, have also their chapels, whose size bears a relative proportion to the number of their followers. I have heard, I think, of one or two other "Catholic and Apostolic Churches;" but these are not represented here. In leed, apart from possible ecclesiastical reasons, there is really no loom for them. For as the church now stands, there is only sufficient space for the worship of those who possess it; and even they are sometimes inconvenienced for want of room when a stand-up fight takes place, and a ring cannot be formed. At the entrance of die church, seated on a divan to the right, are a few respectable, quiet-looking Turks, who stroke their beards, smoke their pipes, and are most benevolent, douce-looking men. They are ready :it any moment to show their kindness, at the risk of their turbans or even their lives, by throwing themselves between the various Orthodox Christians as they fight their fight of faith with each other even unto death* Now, whatever amount of evil may arise from the outward divisions, chiefly as to forms and government, in the Protestant Church, we can hardly conceive it, at this time of day, culmi- nating in open war, ending sometimes in those bloody battles which are witnessed at the only spot on earth where, from close personal contact, the "unity" of the "Holy Orthodox Churches" is fairly tested. We fancy that the " Moderators " of Presbyte- rian Assemblies, and the "Presidents" of Wesleyan or Congre- gational conferences, could meet with the Archbishops of the * At the famous Easter fight in the church, some thirty y< ars ago, four hundred live- were l"-t I JERUSALEM WITHIN THE NVAL1 Church of England without giving one another b] I) no having a fight with sticks or mitrea Buch ae Donnybi with all its Bacchanalia rgies, never witnessed Bui after all, wc Protestants have nothing to boasl of. Th in tlic East has not advanced beyond uli.it n was in E when Episcopalian and Presbyterian in Scotland, in the time of the Stuarts, when Calvinist and Arminian in Holland, and Lutheran and Reformed in Germany, manifested not only an inner spirit, but even an outward expression of it. jut as un- christian as what has been described in the seem enacted by earnest but ignorant devotees around the H0I3 Sepulchre. And if such visible demonstrations of sectarian bate are now well-nigh impossible in most parts of Europe, I am nol prepared to Baj thai the spirit which prompted them is extinguished in any pari of it. He who makes any truth which ought to 'be in the circumference occupy that centre of all truth which belongs exclusively to Jesus Christ, must, sooner or later, get into confusion and oul of the "proportion of faith," and, in the end, — and jusl according to tin- strength of his conscience and the weakness of his spiritual insighl or common sense, — become a sectarian, a fanatic, and a conse- quent hater, in the service, as he imagines, of the < rod whose name is Love, and a liar for what he believi - to be, and what perhaps is, " the Truth." Within this famous church, there are certain places and things shown, about whose authenticity all those witnesses for Catholic truth seem agreed. These are all connected with the last memo- rable scenes in the life and death of Him " who was the Truth." At the entrance of the church, for example, is a broad marble slab, where He was anointed for His burial The I>uk.' Modena was kneeling and reverently kissing it as we went in. Close on the left is the spot" where Marj si I while the body was anointing ; " and then upstairs and downstairs, in nooks and corners, amidst the blaze of lamps and the perfume «>t' ino 132 EASTWARD. here, and there, and everywhere, are other noteworthy places. "What think our readers of such real spots as these: — "where Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene as the gardener ; " and " to his mother after the resurrection ;" and " where his garments were parted ; " and " where He was mocked ;" "where He was bound ; " where "His friends stood afar off during the crucifixion;" "the prison where He was detained while waiting for the crucifixion ;" "the holes in which the three crosses were inserted ;" the very "rent made in the rock by the earthquake;" and "the place where the three real crosses were found " 300 years afterwards, the true cross being discovered by its working a miracle? All these '• sacred spots " are marked by altars, crosses, &c. There are also to be seen in this marvellous museum the actual tombs of Adam (Eve unknown) and of Melchizedek, and of John the Baptist, and of Joseph of Arimathea ; finally, of our Lord. All these wonders are clustered round a spot which is in its way almost as great a wonder as any of the rest — "the centre of the earth !" One asks, with reasonable curiosity, whether "Protestant- ism," left to the blind guidance of its own erring private judgment of the Word of God. with the Holy Spirit as its inter- preter, ever witnessed in any part of the earth to any falsehood, or any error, to be compared with those palpable lies which the " Orthodox" Churches ask us to accept, and this too beside what they believe to be the tomb of Jesus and the place of His crucifixion ! The Holy Sepulchre is not what many people suppose it to be. It is not a cave, or a hole in a rude rock; but a small marble chapel, which rises up from the Hat stone floor. The theory of this sort of sepulchre is, that the mass of the rock Olri of which it was originally hewn has been all cutaway from around the mere slab on which our Lord's body lay, leaving the slab or loculu8 only, and a thin portion of the original rock to which it adhere.; just as we see a pillar of earth rise out of a J ERUSALEM -\Y [THIN l ll l w \ flat iu a railway cutting, marking where the original which il had formed a part, bad been. In ll pri therefore, nothing can be more unlike a sepulchre than bfa one atom of the, original rock, — if it is there al all, which is doubted by not a few, — is visible, .-ill being ca ed in ma What a miserable desecration of the original cave, if it evei existed here ! What arc we to think of the taste, or judgment, of those who dared to apply hammer or chisel to the boly spot i It might with almost equal propriety be transported qo^ to bi i ichibited in Paris, London, or New York. There is not a trace existii its original appearance. This chapel of "the Boly Sepulchre" consists of two small apartments, neither of which could hold above half-a-dozen persons. The whole chapel is bul twenty-six feet high and eighteen broad. The first small closet, which is entered between gigantic candlesticks, is called the < lhapel of the Angel, as being the place where it is alleged the angel ml led away the stone, a fragment of which is pointed out. Within this, entered by a narrow low door, is the sepulchre. It is seven long and nine broad. The roof is a small dome supported by marble pillars. The marble slab, which, it is said, covers the place where our Lord's body lay, occupies the space to the right of the door as you enter. Over it are placed a few most paltry artificial flowers in pots, with some miserable engravings and votive offerings. Several small candles are always burning. The Bale of these candles must yield a considerable revenue to the Church, as every pilgrim offers one, so that tens of thousands must year be consumed. In addition to these candle-, an imm number of gold and silver lamps — futy, 1 believe burning inside this small vault. I went on two occasions into the If<>ly Sepulchn second, I remained in silence beside the attending priest for a a quarter of an hour, and was deeply interested in the pilg who entered in a ceaseless Btream to do bomag* to the - 154 EASTWARD. spot. They came in, knelt, kissed the stone, prayed for a second, presented their candle, and retired to make way for others. It was impossible not to be affected by so unparalleled a spectacle. These pilgrims had come from almost every part of Europe at Least. Greeks from the islands and shores of the Levant; Russians from the far-off steppes of Tartary, clothed in their sheepskin dresses; French, Italians, Germans, and Portuguese, of every age and complexion; old men with white beards, tottering on their pilgrim-staves; friars and monks, with such a variety of costume and of remarkable physiognomy as could nowhere else be seen ; — faces stranger than ever crossed the imagination — some men that might have sat to an artist as his beau ideal of cut-throat pirates, and others who might have represented patriarchs or prophets; some women who were types of Marl ha or Mary, others of the Witch of Endor. The expression of most was that of stolid ignorance and superstition, as if they were performing a mysterious, sacred duty; but of others it was that of enthusiastic devotion. I shall never forget one woman who kissed the stone again and again, pressing her lips to it, as if it were the dead face of her first-born. It was a touch of nature which made one's eyes fill, and was the most beautiful thing I saw in the church, except a fair child with lustrous eyes, who, indifferent to the grand spectacle of bishops and priests, was gazing at the light as it streamed through the coloured glass of one of the old windows. It was strange to think of those people who had conic such distances to this one spot, How many had been hoarding their little fractions for years to defray the expense of the long journey ; how long they had planned it ; how far they had travelled to accomplish it — that old Russian for example, with his bigbootsand hairy cap. What a thing this will be to them, when they go out of that door, and begin the journey homeward, — to tell all they saw, and to comfort themselves in life and death by the thought JERUSALEM-^ I mix | ,,,. w X| , of their having made the pilgrimage and i.i ed the mrine stranger far to think of how this stream Q "t upi i nti, n cu dlvme lQ ve, or call it v,l,,i we may, poured on through thai door for centuries before America was discovered, or the Refon dreamt of. All thoughts of the more distant past me in the remembrance of the Crusades, and of old rom ballads about the mailed men, the lords of many a ruined keep from tl„, banks of the Scottish Tweed to the castellated Rhine whose silent effigies in stone, with hands clasped in prayer, bave reposed for ages in gorgeous cathedrals, rural parish churches and far-away chapels on distant islands. My mind was filled with stories that told of how they came to visil this spot, how they parted from their ladyloves, and travelled over unknown lauds, encountering strange adventures, and voyaging over un- known seas in strange vessels, with stranger crews; how thej charged the Saracens in bloody battles, shouting their war cries, and at last reached— one in twenty perhaps— this spot so full to them of mystery and awe, here to knc.d and pray as the object and reward of all their sacrifices. Historically, I must confess that I had no faith whatever in this being the true Sepulchre. Had I thoughl so, it would only have filled me with pain, and with a deeper longing to be able to lift those pilgrims up from the shadow to the substance; to remind them with the voice of a brother, "He is not here, but is risen!" even while inviting them to "come and see the place where the Lord lay." Nor did I feel disposed to attach much moral blame to those who had long ago introduced this superstition. It is easy to realise the temptation, when teaching the ignorant masses, and attempting to interest then, in an unseen I ihrist, and in spiritual worship, to supply them with a visible and sensuous religion of symbolism and relics, as a substitute for the reality, which it is assumed is too ethereal for ordinary men to sympathise with. We know how all such human plans utterly tad. Hut 136 EASTWARD. perhaps we know this more from observing their actual results in Roman Catholic countries, than from any wisdom of our own. I do not therefore so much wonder at the original experiment, which was natural at least, as at the obstinate keeping up of it now that it has been found to sensualise instead of spiritualise the mind. But the presence of so much superstition filled me with unutterable pain. And perhaps the more so that it has been too long upheld to be now easily abolished, — lest in shaking the faith of the masses in this foolish dream we might shake their faith in the glorious reality. My displeasure at the spectacle may be thought by some to indicate the "irreverence" of a Presbyterian, unaccustomed to symbols and forms. For irreverence towards lies, I thank God ! But even " reverence " has its own peculiar cant. And accordingly the Scotch peasant is often accused of " awful irreverence " merely for keeping on his old, oddly-shaped hat. when he enters a Scotch church — a relic this of an old protest against the folly of holy stone and lime — though he may be a peasant saint, a true temple himself of the Holy Ghost, fearing God, reverencing Him and his Word, guiding his life by its precepts, and drawing daily nourishment from its stores; while, on the other hand, the Italian bandit is thought " reverent " who pauses in drawing the trigger of his pistol because his kneeling victim names his patron saint ; and a " Catholic nation," like Spain, is considered "reverent" in comparison with Protestant England, though she baptises her war-ships "The Holy Ghost" (Spiritu Santo), or " The Holy Trinity " (Santissima Trinadada) ! Keverence results from a sense of God's presence, and is a con- sequenl worshipping of Him in spirit and in truth — and the scenes at the Holy Sepulchre did not impress me with its existence there. In leaving it, however, I was comforted by the thought, that the Eoly Spirit of God, who is perfect love and wisdom, and who dispenses his gifts and graces to every man as He will, can "fulfil Himself" in many ways, can discern and meet the truthful spirit JERUSALEM WITHIN THE \V\ seeking truth, and can impart the truth to it : and that, under wood, hay, and stubble, which are destined to be consumed, main a humble soul may here he building on the true foundation of faith in Christ alone. I also felt the awful respon Ibilit) attached to the blessed liberty which, in God's gracious Providem I' testants enjoy; for Protestantism is ool itself a religion, bui 1- only the most favourable condition for obtaining n Ligion, and for enabling us to see the truth, and to know and Love < lod our Father in Jesus Christ our Saviour. On the Lord's Day, I had the privilege of worshipping in the church presided over by the good Bishop Gobat. How pure, how simple, how true and refreshing was the service '. It was not new to me. Though a Presbyterian, I had read it for months, long ago, abroad, to a congregation, and I have used it very often since then, in similar circumstances, while travelling. 1 have also the "burial service" over the dead at sea. I have often com- municated at the altar of the Church of England, with gratitude ; and, in Jerusalem, I was thankful to worship with my brethren according to their forms. And which, I asked myself, was most in accordance with Apostolic practice — this, or that ( the forms of the Church of England (and the same question could be asked by me with at least equal force of those of the Church «()() feet — rather mere than a quarter of a mile — and its greatest breadth about J ERU SALEM WITHIN I II 1 \\ 1000. It is surrounded on .-til sides by wal ,, to the north and west serving also as walls of bou • which belong chie fly to civil or ecclesiastical officials. The ea i and outh walla Ground Plan of tin Saram < - Shci ii are also a part now of the city walls. < >nl\ a comparatively >in:tll portion of this great open space is occupied by buil< i4o EASTWARD. the centre is the Mosque el Sakrah (or "Dome of the Rock"), and at the south end the Mosque el Aksah. The first tiling that strikes one on entering this sacred spot is its profound repose. It is for the most part covered with grass, which is greeu and beautiful, even at this early season of the year. Various kinds of trees, chiefly the dark, tall cypress, are scattered through it. Oriental figures float about with noiseless tread. No sound of busy traffic from the city breaks the silence. All is quiet as if in the heart of the desert. The spot seems consecrated to meditation and prayer. Most probably the first questions which those readers whom I chiefly address will ask is this — What of the old Temple ? Can its site be determined ? Are there any traces of it ? Now I am glad to say that answers perfectly satisfactory — to me at least, and I fancy to all who will pay any attention to the inquiry — can be given. Let my readers, in the first place, understand that no remains whatever of the old Temple exist above ground. Every atom of its i lust, as far as we can discover, has been swept away from the face of the earth as with the besom of destruction. Literally, not one stone has been left upon another. Nevertheless, its site (•.in with almost perfect accuracy be determined. I will as briefly as possible endeavour to explain how. There is no question whatever as to the Temple having been built somewhere within this space called the " Haram." We know also from Josephus, who is corroborated by other sources of ' \ idence, that the whole area occupied by the Temple of Herod with its surrounding courts was a square with a side of 600 feet. This fact is also, I believe, universally admitted. Now the question is, can such a square be traced? Can we measure with any degree of certainty such a portion of this wide space as will entitle us to say, within this square of 600 feet once stood the Temple? I presume to affirm that we can do so, without any JERUSALEM WITHIN THE WALLS. 141 doubt or difficulty; and I hope that many of my readers, who have hitherto perhaps not paid any attention to this subject, will try to follow me as I endeavour to state the evidence which warrants this interesting conclusion. We have, then, to search for this square, or for tour sides of GOO feet each, which included the Temple. The Wailing w 1 Let us try if we can get one side first, and that will help us to the others. Now there is one corner of the wall surrounding the whole of the wide area I have spokes of which is an important starting-point in this inquiry. Thai corner is the south-west, which is marked a in the plan. The portion of the wall from a north to the "causeway" is very ancient. It is about 50 feet I42 EASTWARD. high on the outside, and is built of huge stones. There are four courses of these seen above ground, and the lowest corner-stone of fchem is 30 feel L0 inches, by 61 feel ; while the others vary from 24 .1 and ^O. 1 , in length to 5 feel in depth. This wall is admitted to be old Jewish architecture. It is a portion of this wall, moreover, which is called "the Jews' wailing place ;" for here may he sen every day some Jews kneeling towards the place where they believe their Temple once stood, and kissing those great stones ; and so have they done, since the third century at least, and probably since their Temple was destroyed. Again, we know that from the end of one of the grand colonnades, or cloisters of the old Temple, there was a bridge which connected it with the city to the west The site of that bridge is marked in the plan, for on that part of the same old wall Dr. Robinson discovered the spring of a huge arch, winch unquestionably is the remains of this bridge. We are also informed by Josephus that the Temple was entered by two gates from the west. One gate in the wall we are de- scribing was long ago discovered, and is known as the Gate of Mohammed. The other, we have no doubt, will soon be brought to light when the excavations are begun. Finally, there are the remains of an old causeway, which crossed the same valley, and at this point the old wall with the large stones terminates. Now let it be noticed that this same old wall, from the corner A to the causeway, including the remains of the old bridge, and the place of the Jews 1 wailing, and the two gates, measures six hundred feet. Let this portion of wall in the meantime be assumed to be one side of the square which bounded the site of the old Temple ; and Lei us search Co]- another side. We begin with the wall which extends from the same corner A along the south from wesl to east. That this is also a part of the old boundary wall of the Temple is almost certain, for two reasons : — first, that a portion of it is built of the same cyclopean stones (one of them being 23 feet long); and secondly, that there JERUSALEM WITHIN THE WALLS ■ ; are in it the remains of a noble gateway, described by Joseph being in the south wall of the Temple. To see it one ha it from within the Haram, as the gateway is built up from with- out. There is no monument of antiquity in Jem i In terestino - as this. We have an entrance-hal] about 50 Peel long Entrance-hall from Gateway in south Wall of tin- Temple and 40 wide, and in the centre a column of a single block of lime- stone, 21 feet high and about 18 feet in circumference. The aides of this hall are built with huge stones. A flight of Btepfl at the end leads to a long passage, sometimes horizontal, sometim gentle inclined plane, but extending 259 feet, and emerging bj another flight of steps into the area above. Now this south wall, marked by its great stones, and the magnificenl old entrance, no* useless, extends for six hundred feet east from the ("run- A to B. Does not this look like another side of the square we are search of \ But what of the other two sides? Well then, from the point which marks the end of the 600 feel east from the corner, there is another wall, underground, running due north for 600 6 to D. The fourth and last side of the Bquare is from D to the 144 E A S T W A R D. causeway, and is now marked by the edge of the platform on which the Mosque el Sakrah is built Here we have our fourth boundary of 600 feet. Once more, to complete the proof. We know from Josephus that the Temple was built partly on rock and partly on solid earth. Now the whole of the space within the above square of b'00 feet is rock and solid earth ; while the ground beyond this space to the east (from B to c) is occupied by arches, strong enough to support soil or any light building, and now forming underground structures ; -,•$!=»> 1 ' to ; - \i 1 ith-eo i oer ui the Haram i with high and airy chambers admirably adapted for keeping the cattle required for the Temple service, but too weak to sustain such immense buildings as those of the old Temple. Finally, within the square we have indicated are huge under- ground cisterns, filled from natural springs which no doubt plied the Temple with the water thai m con tantlj require its services. These cisterns are now gol at l..\ au opening well or chimney, neai' the Mosque el AJcsah. Surely these proofs ought to satisfy the reader who July weighs them, that the site of the Temple was in the south-wesl of the Haram, being a square of 600 feet, two sides of whicb are measured from the south-west angle of the old wall This being settled, we can, within a few yards, or even feet, fix the Bite of tin- great altar ; and it is a remarkable coincidence thai it is op] the very spot where the Jews now pray and we< j> for Zion ! As I walked over this small green spol once occupied \>\ God'a Holy Temple, I cried — "Oh for a voice to utter the thoughts tin arise in me!" For who can adequate!) express the 1 1 1 « » i which here rush upon the mind, wave upon wave in rapid tumultuous succession, out of the vasl and apparently I ocean of past history? How profound!) impressive, for example, was the simple fact, thai here alone iu all the i arth waa living and time God worshipped throughoul long Rome, with all her wisdom, had " changed the glor) ol th( u ruptibleGod into an image made Like fco corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things;" the philo- sophic and refined Athens had erected an altar " to the unknown God;" but here, in tins remote corneT of the earth, and in a sequestered spol among the lonely hills, shepherd elans for cen- turies worshipped Him whom the great nations of the earth still worship as the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob. This green spot is the narrow strait through which the living stream passed 3000 years ago, which is now flooding the whole earth. If we ask how this enduring worship came to be established, our inquiry receives a reply from the Books of Moses, in which its origin and establishment are recorded. In these we read a history of Creation, to which, like a spring rising in the far-off hills, can be traced the mighty river of our religious belief and worship. When one thinks of the state of the world, with reference to its knowledge of God, at the time when Moses wrote, and as con- trasted with the period when the Temple with its worship was here located, it is impossible not to recognise in the revealed account of Creation the origin of this and of every tine temple erected for the worship of God. There may be in Genesis "diffi- culties" not vet removed, and "questions" relating to science not yei solved; but greater than these, as mountains are greater than the boulders which are scattered over their surface, is the glorious moral teaching of the narrative. What a protest does it contain, for example, against all idolatries '.—what a confounding of them by the mere statement of tarts, which, from other independent sources, the mosl thoughtfully devout arrive at! That record tells us, for instance, thai God in the beginning made the heavens and the earth ; if so, then matter is not eternal, hut had a beginning, and it owes that beginning not to itself, nor to a blind fate, but to a personal God. It tells us that light and darkness have no ethical meaning, tor God divided them, calling the darkness night, and the light day;— thai neither sun, moon, nor stars, are to he JERUSALEM WITHIN Ml, WALLS adored, as they have been, for God made them, and el them in the heavens, not for worship, but, as far a man i concern) light. It tells us thai the vegetable and the animal world their origin neither to the air, the land, the Bea, aor to any in- herent power in themselves or in nature, bu1 to God alone, who said, "Let these be." It tells us that God made the bird, the beast, and creeping thing, and leaves us to inter thai tim neither beast (as the bull Apis), nor bird as the [bis , oor cre< p- ing thing (as the Scarabseus, so honoured in Egypt, and from Egypt in other countries), arc to be worshipped, but God only. [1 tells us, moreover, and very emphatically, thai man U ma l< God's image, and has dominion over the earth and over all mere animal creation ; and the inference suggested is obvious, thai man is not to turn things upside down, by creating a god after his own image, and worshipping the animals over which he is to rule It tells us further that woman is of man, and for man, given b I to him, and therefore to be respected and loved, as 1 i of his bone and flesh of his flesh ; and not to be made tli icasion woman, alas ! has been made i n every form of falsi worshi seducing man from God. And, finally, it tells us thai God made all things very good, and if so, that matter is doI evil, aor any- thing else as made by God; thai all evil has come from the creature, and all good from the Creator. This glorious revelation of God as the Creator was given to Moses, and was express* d and embodied in the worship of "the Mosaic economy," upon this green spot, with much more that I need no1 dwell upon, as typical of the New Creation through (lie work of Jesus Chrisl 0! lei us never forget what we owe to this teaching, and leasl "I a when "standing here upon this grave. And from the day in which the old "Tabernacle," oi I the Wilderness, was enlarged into the grand Temple of Solomon, what events rise up before the memory 1 In vain we atU m] suggest, in the most hurried term, the incidents which make this i 4 S EASTWARD. the most memorable spot on earth to the Christian — ay, and "to the Jew also." There passes before the inner eye the august founding <>f Solomon's Temple, "with its stately rites, ceremonies, and solemn prayers;— its costly sacrifices, and the presence within it of the mysterious Shekinah. Again, we see the memorable day when the Temple of Zerubbabel was founded, when "the priests and Levites and chief of the fathers, who were ancient men, that had seen the first house, when the foundation of this house was laid before their eves, wept with a loud voice; and many shouted aloud for joy: so that the people could not discern the noise of the shout of joy from the noise of the weeping of the people : for the people shouted with a loud shout, and the noise was heard afar off." We see the last and greatest Temple of all — that of Herod — of winch it was said, "The glory of this latter house shall he greater than of the former, saith the Lord of hosts: and in this place will I give peace, saith the Lord of hosts," — all this passes before our minds, until the vision of the past is closed by the un- paralleled horrors of the destruction of the last Temple by the Roman army, leaving no trace behind except the faded sculptures of some of its holy things on the crumbling Arch of Titus. But standing here one loves to linger on earlier days, and to recall the holy men and women, the kings, priests, and prophets, who came up to this spot to pray — whose faith is our own, whose savings are our guide, whose lite is our example, and whose songs are our hymns of worship. We seem to hear the majestic psalms of David which have ascended from this spot, and have never been silent since on earth, nor will he until they are absorbed into the worship of the Temple above. Nor can we forget the frightful idolatries, the devilish wickedness, the falsehoods, hypocrisies, murders, blasphemies, which have been here witnessed and pu- nished; the awful denunciations against sin in every form which have been here pronounced; the sieges, famines, destructions, dispersions, weepings, desolations, and restorations, which have J ERUSALEM WITHIN THE WALL here occurred; the prayers which have been addr< only from this spot but to ii bj Jonah " out of the depth b 1 1 from Babylon; by Ezekiel from the banks of the CI . the captives who hung their harps on the willows and wept as they remembered Zion ; and by everj Je\* throughoul the world then : What thoughts, longings, tears, hopes, and joj - of millions throughout long ages have been thus associated with tin- Temple. But what more than absorbs all else into itself as a soun reverential wonder, was the presence here in hia own Hoi} T< mple of Jesus Christ, "the desire of all Dations." How affectii recall his teaching, within this spot, his holy and awful w< done, his w.mls of love and power here spoken the incident his boyhood, temptation, and ministry down to bis last hours, ending, as the result of all, in the establishment of ;i Church on earth in which each member is himself a priest, a sacrific( and a temple of the Holy Spirit. How, we ask, can such associations be adequately expressed '. Yet how difficult to be silent when writing about the holy place by which they are necessarily suggestoi I. Ag.-iin we say, it i- the most remarkable spot on earth. It is good for us to think about it; to recall what God has here done for the world; to remember how here, as the very Thermopylae of the universe, the battl Ions: fought, and at last gained, which for ever secured to us, it oot " the place where the Lord lay," yet the Lord Himself as the living and abiding Saviour of the whole world, and that " kingdom which cannot be moved." These, and such like thoughts passed through m\ mind, as I trod on this sacred spot — now so calm, silent, dead. The d which man is made alone remains and covers all Not an 00 meets the eye on which Kings and Prophets, with Ji sua and \\\> Apostles gazed, except the Mount of Olives and the blue sky. Yet it may be that those holy feet have trodden th< that old passage; and His lips may have drunk from the waters that EASTWARD. "made glad the city of God," and with reference to which He on the first day of the toast cried 3 saying, " If any man thirst, let him come to Me and drink, and the water which I shall give him shall be in him," as the water is within the Temple, " a living fountain springing up into everlasting life ! " Shall the Temple ever be, in any form, restored \ Shall Jeru- salem be again built ? Shall the tribes go up together once more to this sacred spot, weeping for Him whom they pierced 1 Shall salvation yet once again come out of Zion? Shall Jesus be here worshipped, so that it shall be said of Him, or of his ministers, "Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord?" The Lord knoweth; I do not. Yet the very may be that Jerusalem and the site of the Temple are to be still connected somehow with the future of the Church and of the world, only adds to the solemn and awful interest which already attaches to both. But in whatever way. or in whatever place, the blessing may come, we should earnestly desire that it may come soon, in all its fullness, to those who are "beloved for their fathers' sake." Pray for the peace of Jerusalem ! But we must Leave the site of the old Temple, with its solemn memories, and enter El Sakrah, or the " Mosque of Omar " — as it is commonly, though we think erroneously, called — and which occupies nearly the centre of the great Haram enclosure. On elite-line- it, one is immediately and irresistibly impressed by ii- exquisite proportions, its simplicity of design, and wonderful beauty. Nowhere have I sen stained-glass windows of such in- tense and glowing colours, [ndeed one of the marked features of the interior is the variety and harmony of colour which pervade it, caused by the marbles of the pillars and walls — the arabesque ornaments and Arabic inscriptions — the rich drapery hanging in the sunlight — with the flickering touches everywhere of purple and Line and golden yellow, from the Eastern sun pouring its splendour through the gorgeous windows; while every Oriental J ERUSALEM WITHIN II!! W \l LS worshipper, as he bends in prayer or mov< ; ; . • plays some bright Lit of dress embroidered with gold the looms of Damascus, or possibly of India, and thus a Ida I brilliancy of the scene. What chiefly attracts the eye and am -i - the attention I within this temple of Mahometan worship, is an object which one novcv saw before in any such place, or beneath except the sky. Immediately under the dome, and within the circle of marble pillars which support it. with silk drap hanging- it like a banner over the torn!, f a hero, li< a a h It is not the work of a, cunning artist, shaped to a form I or to serve any useful or religious purpose, bu1 an unhewn i rough as a boulder on a mountain-side or on the Bea-shore. Thia stone is about 60 feet long and ."><) broad, and rises ab >u1 fiv< above the level of the floor, or 15 feet above the original - I In i: i udiIci tin- 1» of the ground. It is hut the highest point "I th which tin' whole area is composed, thus permitted EASTWARD. projed above the surface, and to intrude bare, unadorned, into the mosque. Moreover, it has on the south-easl side an open door, cut through the rock, which Leads by a few stops down to a room, cut out of the rock, about eight feet high and 15 feel square. Above, is a hole pierced three or four feet through the top of the ■ tin Rocl rock, with a lamp suspended near it. Such is the general appear- ance and position of this famous spot. 1 may add, that if one stamps on a circular marble stone aboul the centre of the cave, seen in 'he engraving, hollow sounds and echoes are hoard beneath, evidencing the existence of considerable underground excaval ions. Bui what," the reader asks, "means this rock or rocky summil I Why has it leu preserved, and preserved hen as a holy and J ERUSALEM WITHIN Ml I WALLS revered thing?" A question t" be asked, srerilj I but o means so easily answered. For the facl of thi in such a. place lias given rise to a great contro\ still rages, though only, of course, with Bucb calm, suppn reticent energy as archaeologists and antiquarii are < | a case where passion decreases with tin- Bquare of the di I that, in time, separates them from the 3ubj cts of their inqu Without attempting in a few lines to state the argurai have been brought forward in supporl "l the vari< theories, or presuming to give any decided judgmenl oi ■ plicated a, question, let mo endeavour, bowever meagri ! or rather to prompt, the curiosity of those of my read< i - who n wish to know how this stone has become such a stumbling-block. (1) The most prosaic account of it is, that the bole thr< the rock to the lower chamber was the opening to a veil for the fortress of Antonia, the excavations belov< the cave beii a part of the great natural cisterns which honeycomb the Tempi* area. But the fortress .lid not stand here : and even if it did, 1 would not account for the well of a Lanark, ever becoming and consecrated spot. (2) Was it then, as some suggest, the stone on the i Mount Moriah on which Abraham offered up I mere conjecture, without any evidence whatever to supporl the difficulty of accepting it is increased by the facl thai Gerizim is claimed— and that not without weighty and, Stanley and others think, conclusive reasons— to be the i of Abraham's sacrifice. (3) A more probable supposition is. tint this place threshing-floor of Araunah or Oman) .1- Jebusite, bought, and on which be erected the great Altai - account given in Scripture of this transaction is as follows. « And ifre angel of the Lord** Ibytoe threBhing-1 And David lifted up hi, eyes, and saw th, I54 ] \STW.\KIi. earth and the heaven, having a drawn sword in his hand stretched out over Jerusalem. Then David and the elders of Israel, who were clothed in sackcloth, fell upon their faces. . . . Then the angel of the Lord commanded Gad to say to David, that David should go up, and set up an altar unto the Lord in the thresh- ing floor of Oman the Jehusite. And David went up at the saying of Gad, which he spake in the name of the Lord. And Oman turned hack, and saw the angel ; and his four sons with him hid themselves. Now Oman was threshing wheat. And as David came to Oman, Oman looked and saw David, and went out of the threshingfloor, and bowed himself to David with his face to the ground."— 1 Chron. xxi. 15—21. We read also that — " Solomon began to build the house of the Lord at Jerusalem in Mount Mori ah, where the Lord appeared unto David his father, in the place that David had pre- pared in the threshingfloor of Oman the Jebusite. And he began to build in the second day of the second month, in the fourth year of his reign." — 2 Chron. iii. 1,2. This narrative, it is alleged, makes all clear. On the summit of this stone, by the threshing-floor, stood the angel of the Lord, seen as if between earth and heaven. Beside the stone was the threshing-floor; its top was the place for winnowing the grain, which was poured down through the hole into the cave, that was at once a granary and contained a well. In this cave, more- over, Oman and his sons hid themselves, and " came out " to meet David. On the summit of the same rock was afterwards erected the greal altar, which was reached by steps, or by a gradual ascent, and through the hole the remains of the sacrifices and the blood were sent into the cave below, to be disposed of by the Levites, and to be carried by some means or other without the Temple through its subterranean excavations. So far well. But the great objection to this theory is, that it is impossible to bring the rock within the site of the Temple, as it is 150 feel from the nearest point of its outer wall. It could not, therefore, have been the base of the great altar; for Herod's Temple (within the square of 600 feet) occupied, or rather, from its being much larger, included, tic- site of the Temple of Solomon. (4) The last, and which will appear to our readers to be the JERUSALEM WITHIN THE \\ \ most improbable and astounding theory is, thai thia " true sepulchre of our Lord ! " Mr. Fergusson, the propounder ami defender of thi tl broached it fifteen years ago, and has maintained it with ability and with increasing confidence ever jince. He lateh \ Jerusalem to test its accuracy still further by an actual inapt of the spot, and has returned more com inced, if | ible, than i While this theory is maintained on historical grounds, jrel it is based chiefly on architectural. And Id do one rejecl this kind of evidence, as if from its nature inapplicable. The yen i nearer the truth. Suppose we find a canoe embedded in th< of an English river, and the wreck of a steamer on the Bhor< an uninhabited island. Every one can understand how it i- sible to decide with absolute certainty as to the relativ< those two specimens of shipbuilding and to know that th ie was before and the other after a certain historic period. And so in regard to architecture. Mr. Fergusson, one of the first living authorities on the history of this department of art, has endea- voured to prove — and I presume to think successfully thai 1 the so-called Mosque of Omar never was, nor could have been, built for a place of Mohammedan worship ; (2 that it could not have been built either before or alter th.' age of Constantino; (3) and that the present church of the Holy Sepulchre could not have been erected earlier than the time of the Crusades. He concludes that the so-called Mosque of Omar was the churc which Constantine built — for that <> church was built by him all admit — over the sepulchre of ( ihrist. I may, however, suggest the difficulty of accounting of Hadrian having polluted the sepulchre of Christ, when b< no enmity to the Christians as such; while bis polluting th. altar was in keeping with his hatred to the .1 I cannot enter further into this controversy, but must refer m> readers, who may now wish to follow it out. to some "t the well- known works which fully discuss it* If I mighl presume to give any opinion od the subject, it would be briefly this: I cannot accept of the proofs in favour of the authenticity of the tomb of our Lord, either in the church of the Hoty Sepulchre, or under the Dome of the Rock. It seems to me, I admit, to l>e demonstrated by Mr. Fergusson that "the Dome of the Rock" was built by Constantine, and that, too — in the absence of any other known motive — because he believed it to be the tomb of our Lunl.-f- I recognise also the strength of the evidence adduced to establish the probability * Among- others I would mention Dr. Robinson's great work on Palestine, as c mtaining the most forcible arguments against the present site ; and " Williams's Holy City"' as its best defence, and also for the reply which it gives to Mr. Fergusson's theory in favour of the Dome of the Rock. Mr. Fergusson'- view is given in his article " Jerusalem," in "Smith's Dictionary," and also in Ins recently published lectures. Lewin's "Siege of Jerusalem" may also be consulted, and Sandie's " Horeb ami Jerusalem." t -Mr ! _ - , i, - in the Appendix to his recently published Lectures, an extract from a small volume of travels to the Holy Land, by a pilgrim named " Theodericus," in the year 1172, and entitled " Theodericus de locis Sanctis." It bed by Dr. Tobler, and was issued from the German press just as Mr. Fergusson's book was being printed. The pilgrim confirms all his views. lie mnn- than once that the " Dome of the Rock" was erected by Constantine and his mother Helena. Same interesting inscriptions are given by him as copied from the church while in the possession of the Christians, who worshipped in it during the whole period of the Latin kingdom, and a few years before it was taken by Saladin. These inscriptions are along each of the eight sides, a),,] S( , me are as follows: — "Pax aeterna ah seterno Patre sit huic domui ■, " "Templum Domini Banctum est. Dei cultura est. Dei sanctificatio est," ,vr. &c. "Bene fundatus est domus Domini super firmam petram," &c. Inscriptions of the same character were in other parts of the building. We must confess, however, that --ion of any reference bo the tomb i> remarkable. De Vogue, in his recent great work on the Temple, gives translations in French of some of the Arabic inscriptions, added most probabbj in the time of Saladin, and which read as a protest against the Christian Church ami the known christian beliefs, and pro- bably displaced the Christian inscriptions of it,, founders and worshippers. They ch as the following:—" Praise 1m- to God, lie has no Son"— "He does not share the empire of the universe" "Jesus i^ the Son of Mary, :-ent by God, and his Word"— "Do not say there is a Trinity of God," &c. As Mr. Fergusson then is not a word in the Arabic inscriptions of David, Solomon, or ERU SALEM WITHIN THE \\ A I of Constantine having been able, even in the fourth con tin ascertain the real position of the sacred jpot, both from th< dition of the Christian Church in Jerusalem, and also from the perfection <>f the Roman census an argument brought to for the tirsl time on this question l>\ the learned and accurate Mr. Finlay* Mr. Fergusson has also, I think, satisfactorily disposed of the objection to his theory from the supposed impossibility of our accounting for the change of site from the Dome of the Rock t" the present church, without there being any record of Buch a transaction; for the pilgrims, when shut out of the true one by the Moslems, would most likely be supplied by the prii '- with a f a l se one— and that, too, with the best intentions on their part The supposition of such a pious fraud, which appears at first revolting to our sense of truth, is uevertheless in harmony with what was done in many parts of Europe, and more especially in Italy. Everybody knows that the house of Joseph and Mary was carried by angels from Nazareth to Loretto, where it has been visited every day for centuries by more pilgrims than the Holy Sepulchre. This transference, let it be observed, was rendered expedient by the same causes which mighl have induce* even Mahomet, but of "Jesus the Son of Maria." whose name app times. De Vogue, in his learned and very beautifully illustrated work, 0] view of Mr. Fergusson, and holds by the ordinary tradition. * "The census was so perfect that throughout the wide i empire 'every private estate was surveyed. Map* were constructed, ... not only every locality possessing a name, but so detailed that ei measured. And in the register connected with the map even th. fruit-trees in the garden vere inscribed. Not only everj Roman j especially every Roman colour, but every municipality tmreyed extreme accuracy. A plan of the districl was ■ ngraven on bra the imperial register office, while plans were placed in the hand- administration and in the provincial archive. ' -W « 561.) By this means Mr. Fiulay thinks Constantine could have had nod in ascertaining the true site, as a temple to \Tenus had b Hadrian, to profane it. 1=8 EASTWARD. change of the site of the Holy Sepulchre. It was dangerous undei Moslem rule to make a pilgrimage to the church in the Haram, jusl as it was to make one to Nazareth, — where, however, we may add. another house equally authentic is also now shown.* Admitting all this, thru, it may be asked how I can avoid coming to the conclusion thai the authentic site has at las! been discovered ? I must confess my inability to give any reply, beyond the very unsatisfactory one — that I cannot believe ! My doubt, I frankly acknowledge, is chiefly derived from the mere force of impressions made on the spot. To believe that this room, with its hollow excavations beneath, was a tomb at all ; that Joseph of Arimathea got possession of the huge rock, occupying so remarkable a position, as his own private property, and was allowed to cut out the first tomb in it ; that he who was terrified to confess Christ before the Sanhedrim, should have \\m\ the boldness to bury Him, or rather should have been permitted to do so, within one hundred and fifty feet of the Temple ivall, and overlooked by the fanatics who had condemned Him, and the Roman soldiers who had executed Him ; and that the Resurrection, involving the presence of Roman guards, holy angels, pious women, agitated apostles, and Christ Himself, should have taken place here, nominally indeed at that time without the walls, but practically under the gaze of both the Temple and the fortress — all this I cannot as yet assent to. Moreover, it dors not si em to me at all unlikely that the place of Christ's burial should have died out of the memory of the early Church. To the first believers the tomb of the dead Christ would, it appears to me, be soon lo.-t in faith in the living Christ. (Jolgotha as a place, with its dreadful horrors, would be uncared for in their adoring love of ■ When in Jerusalem I was assured, on what Beemed the best authority, that the Greeks had got up a new Gethsemane of their own, in opposition to the Latins; but on further careful inquiry I found Ukis *-as not the case. Eow difficult it is evil " en the .spot" to ascertain the truth ! J ERUSALEM \\ I I III \ in e WA] I the grand spiritual truths of winch it was bu1 the awful threshold. 1 can therefore quite conceive of St. Paul, for example, when in Jerusalem alter his conversion, visiting neither the place of < Ihrist's death nor that of lu's burial, nor caring thus to "know Him after the flesh," although he held living communion with Bim even • lav in the Spirit, Belief in persons, nol places, in living realities, not mere localities, appears to me as much more likelj to have characterised the early than any subsequent age of the Church. And just as in the course of years faith began to grow weal in a living person or in eternal truths, so would it natural^ Beek to strengthen itself by a visit to places, until it became -till weaker by contact with the visible, and the kernel was at last losl in tin- shell. In the meantime we wait for more light on this interesting subject. The spade and pickaxe, which we hope soon to se< •vigorously at work in Jerusalem, may help to solve these and many other questions. But should the sepulchre of Christ never be discovered— it it lie unknown in some lonely recess among the " bra. s" overlooking the Kedron, we are not disposed greatly to lament it. il AVe have a vision of our own— Ah, why should we undo it V VII. JKHUSALEM (WITHOUT THE WALLS). Before going outside the city, I must admit thai much more could bo said about Jerusalem itself, and especially about the old walls, and their bearing on the vexed question of the position of the Holy Sepulchre.* But the reader will please recollect that I only give the impressions of a hurried visit, and do not recapitulate what others have written more fully and better than I could do. On my way out one day [ visited the .lews' "wailing place," certainly one of the most remarkable spots in the world. I indicated its locality in my last chapter. It extends 120 feet along the cyclopean wall, which belongs to the area of the Jewish Temple, and which surrounded the sacred inclosure. It begins aboui 300 feet from the south-west corner. No familiarity with the scenes enacted at this place made ithackneyed to me. To see representatives of that people met here for prayer — to see them * De Vogue rejects Josephus's measurements of the site of the old Temple, and end< avours to prove that it occupied the whole portion of the present Harani area, with the exception of the north-west corner, on which the fortress of Antonia was built. If his view be correct — a point by no mean< settled- then the famous rock may turn out after all t i be the site of the great altar. He also rejects Mr. Fergusson's argument that the Mosque el Sakrah was built by Constantine, though he admits it to be of Byzantine architecture, applied by Moslem builders. And he accepts the present so-called " Holy Sepulchre" as authentic. I am quite prepared for a "counterblast" to his arguments, and am disposed, more than ever, to wait for light until the Palestine Exploration S ciety — one of the most interesting, most urgently required, and mosl promising associations of our day— has had time to dig and measure about the dibris of Jerusalem with skill and patience. I trust the society will meet with the support JERUSALEM— WITHOUT THE WALLS. ( 6i kissing those old stones — to know that tin- .- ,ri ..f devotion has probably been going on since the Temple was destroyed, and down through those teeming centuries which saw the decline and tall of the Roman Empire, and all the events of the biston of Modern Europe — to watch this continuous stream of sorrow, still sobbing against the old Avail, filled me with many thoughts. What light amidst darkness, what darkness amidsl light; what undying hopes in the future, what passionate attachment to the pasl ; what touching superstition, what belief and unbelief!* I found some slips of paper, hearing prayers written in aeat Jewish characters, inserted between the stones of the old wall. I also took a stroll into the Jews' quarter on Mount Zion It is a wretched, filthy place, squalid as the " liberties" of Dublin, the "slums" of London, or the "closes" of Glasgow or Edinburgh As I intend in another chapter to give my impressions of the Jews of Palestine, I shall say nothing more about them here.t * Dr. Wilson, in his "Lands of the Bible" (vol. ii. p. 615), quotes a p from the liturgy of the Sephardim Jews, used when Lamenting al the place of wailing. Among its petitions are the following : — "Oh. may their Father in his infinite mercy compassionate his orphans, and gather his dispersed to the pore land! For he is high and exalted; he bringeth down and raiseth apj he woundeth and healeth ; killeth and restoreth to life. Lord, return to thy city ! build thine holy oracle, dwell in thine house, and gather thy scattered flock. <) thou who renewest the months, collect the saints, both men and women t<> the erected city. O may this month be renewed for good! and may it p who is mighty in works, thus to command ! " f I cannot find any more authentic evidence of the population of Jerusalem than what has been given by "Murray" (1858), which is as follows : — Moslems 4,000 Jews 6,000 Greeks 1,500 Latins 1,200 Armenians . . . . . 280 Syrians, < k>pts, &c. ..... L50 Greek Catholics IK) Protestants 100 l.:..;io The best account of the "religions" <>i Palestine that I am acquainted with, i- 1 62 EASTWARD. I saw one sight on Mount Zion which vividly recalled the past, and that was a land of lepers. They inhal.it a few huts near one of the gates, and are shut off by a wall with only one entrance to their wretched small court and mud dwellings. Ton of those miserable beings came out to beg from us — as they do from every one who is likely to give them alms. They sat afar off, with out- stretched arms, directing attention to their sores. There was nothing absolutely revolting in their appearance; but it was unutterably sad to see so many human beings, with all the capaci- ties for enjoying life, thus separated from their kind, creeping out of their mud dens day by day through a long course of years to obtain aid to sustain their miserable existence ; and then creeping back again— to talk, to dream, to hope. And for what? No friendly grasp from relation or friend, no kiss from parent or child, from husband or wife. Dying daily, they daily increase in misery and pain. What more vivid symbol of sin could have boon selected than this disease, which destroys the whole man from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, slowly but surely eating his life away, and which is incurable save by the power of God? May He have mercy on all such ! The sight of those sufferers in such a place suggested many a scene in Bible history, above all the compassion of Him who "bore our sicknesses," and restored such pitiable objects to the health and joy of a new existence. Nor eonld one fail to associate the helpless condition of Lepers with that of the people who still occupy Zion, whose houses are built over the dust of what was once their own stately palaces, ami whose unbelief is now, as it was in the days of the prophets, like unto a deadly leprosy with wounds that have not yet "been closed, neither bound up, nor mollified with ointment." Their sin has been so visibly punished, that we may truly add: — " Your country is desolate, your cities are burned with fire: your land, that given by Dr. Wilson, in his "Land- of the Bible." Finn's account of one oi the Jews the Spanish " S phardim"— is also valuable. I ER1 SA I.IM WITH01 l l H I WALLS. 163 strangers devour it in your presence, and it U desolate a over- thrown b\ Btrangers. Ami the daughter of Zion i- Left cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city." And before passing beyond the walls, I would tike to mention one remarkable feature of Jerusalem. It ia its power, in 3pite of its dusl and decay, to attracl to itself so many forms of religious thought The fire which once blazed in it with so pure a flame, still flickers amidsl smoke and ashes. Moslem, Jew, and < Jhristian, of every sect, reside among its ruins, or make pilgrimages of d< votion or of inquiry to its hallowed precincts. Among these are always a few outre' characters from Britain or America, pose b\ a monomania on the second advenl or the return of the Jews. 1 heard of more than one Buch who took up their abode in sighl of Olivet, daily watching for the Saviour's personal return, and daily preparing to receive Him or some of his followers as honoured guests. On every other poinl they were, I believe, sane and sensible people. One old man had for years lived in • expectancy of the -rent event. His hair grew white, but his hopes were evi r fresh and young. He lived alone. At lasl one day he was missed; and when search was made, he was tumid dead in ins solitary room. But ins hopes, however false they were, as based on an error of judgment, yet Bprang from personal attachment to his Redeemer, and would not be put to shame, though fulfilled otherwise and mere gloriously than he had anticipated Those who, longing to Bee the sun rise, search for it with straining eyes at too early an hour, or in the wrong quarter of the heavens, will yet rejoice in its beams when it Am-i rise, though it be later, and n, another point of the horizon. We may apply to Buch disap- pointed dreamers what Mrs. Barrett Browning so touchinglj says of tli-- poet < lowper : — ■ •• Like a -irk child thai knoweth not hia moth r while ahe bl< - . Ajid drops upon his burning brow 1 ofherki - 1 6 4 EASTWARD. That turns his fevered eyes around — ' My mother! where'a my mother? As if such tender words and looks could come from any other! " The fever gone, with leaps of heart he sees her bending o'er him, Her face all pale from watchful love, the unweary love she bore him ! — Thus woke the poet from the dream his life's long fever gave him, Beneath those deep pathetic eyes which closed in death to save him. " Thus ? Oh, not thus! no type of earth could image that awaking, Wherein he scarcely heard the chant of seraphs round him breaking, Or felt the new immortal throb of sold from body parted, But felt those eyes alone, and knew — ' My Saviour ! not deserted ! ' " But wo must go out of the city and " view the walls of Jerusa- lem which were broken down." Among the first places I wont to was the subterranean quarry, the entrance to which is near the Damascus Gate. The nature The Damascus Oate. of this place will be best understood by supposing an immense excavation, out of which it is highly probable the stones were quarried to build the city, so that Jerusalem may be said to be reared over one vast cavern, the roof of which is supported by huge pillars of rock, left untouched by the workmen. We entered JERUSALEM WITHOUT THE WALLS. 165 by a narrow hole, through which we had to creep; and after stumbling over dSbris down hill and tip hill, we found ourselves in the midst of a labyrinth of vast caves, whose high arches and wide mouths were; lost in darkness. On we went tottering after our feeble lights, long after we lost sight of the eye of day al the entrance. With cavern after cavern on the right and I. ft and ahead of us, we got eerie, and began to think, in spite of the lucifers — unknown as an earthly reality to the Jews of old — what would become of us if our lights went out. It is difficult to say how far the quarries extend. I have been told by one who lias examined into their inner mysteries, that there are walls built tip which prevent thorough exploration. But I have no doubt they will, as many incidents in history indicate, be found to extend to at least the Temple Area. It is more than likely that the stones of the Temple were here prepared ; for " the house when it was in building was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither, so that there was neither hammer nor axe, nor any tool of iron heard in the house while it was building." The stone is a white limestone, and must have given a pure and bright appearance to the Temple. We saw some blocks half cut out of the living rock, but never completed. I know not why such unfinished works as those stones, partly prepared yet never used, are so impressive. They are v. i v old — older than any inhabited building on earth, and ages older than most of our modern ruins — yet they look young, like children that were embalmed at birth. They are monuments, not of the past so much as of an expected future — enduring types of designs frustrated, of plans unexecuted, and of hopes unrealised -symbols of the ignorance of man, who plants and builds, until a sudden coming of God revolutionises the world to him. Why, we ask, did not this or that stone fulfil its intended destiny ( What stopped the work ? What hindered the workman from returning with his mallet and chisel to finish it? What caused the abrupt 166 EASTWARD. pause which has not been disturbed for centuries? Was this stone designed for the home of some rich young man, who was so absorbed in it that he could not follow Christ ( or was it intended for some one anxious to enlarge his barns? or for some Dives to ered a new banqueting-hall I or for some bridegroom to prepare a home tor his bride? Or did the Sanhedrim commission it for the repair of the Temple ? Thou why did it remain here '. Were the workmen called away by the Crucifixion, or by the scenes of the day of Pentecost '. Or did strange news come of the army of Titus encompassing the city? and was the work of usefulness, of covetousness, of luxury, of domestic peace, or of piety, put off till a more convenient season? The stones yet wait in silence, and may wait probably till all man's works are burnt up. And still we go on in the old way, planting and building, marrying and giving in marriage, rearing palaces, barns, and churches, as if the earth were firm beneath our feet, and time would never end. But we must not indulge in dreamy meditations, Lest our lights go out, and the stones at last serve some purpose by entombing our skeletons. We reach the daylight, which, first like a brillianl star, and then a sun. pierces through the gloom from the narrow entrance. Reader, it is no easy task, this work of exploration, even in a small way, or of sight-seeing in any way, with such a temperature. You can fancy what it is to be obliged to poke through holes like a rat, Hit through caverns like a bat, and then come into daylight only to pace along under a glare from white rocks, white stony roads, white walls, the whole man dusty and deliquescent, and inclined to say with Sir John: "Thou knowest, Hal, that a yard of uneven ground is a mile to me." There is no shelter anywhere except under an olive, when there is one, or in the cool recesses of a house, which is not to be thought of until evening. I long to bring the reader to Olivet and Bethany; but let US first take a rapid -lance at seme of the spots South of the city. JERUSALEM WITHOUT THE WALLS. 167 Whoever takes the trouble to examine the accurate plan of the site of Jerusalem and its environs given al page lis, will Q0tice t! "' prolongation of the hill south of the Earam Area. It is steep, and in some places rocky, though on the whole car efully cultivated in terraces, with many olive and frail trees. This was the Ophe] of the olden time. The valley which bounds it on the uvst was called the "Tyropcean," which, from the Damascus Gate southward, divided the Temple Mounl from Mounl Z, " n - Til " ™lleyto the easl of Ophe] is thai of Jehoshaphat, or the Kidron, separating Jerusalem from the Mouni of Olives, i attains its greatest depth immediately beneath the south-east angle of the Temple. Another valley, it will be observed from ill- plan, curves in from the west. This is the valley of Einnom orTophet. Perhaps there is no place on earth where so many thoughts of human crime and misery suggest themselves, as among the rocky sepulchres of this valley. It must always bave been an out-of-the-way, dark, secluded spot, There is no other like it near Jerusalem. The horrible Moloch fires whirl, con- sumed many an agonised child, once blazed among these stones. "They have built the high places of Tophet," said the Prophel Jeremiah, "which is in the vaUey of the son of Einnom, to hum their sons and their .laughters in the tire; which J commanded them not, neither came it into my heart." On the opposite side, on the Hill of Corruption, where the village of Siloam is qow built, Solomon set up his idols in the very sighl of the Temple- as it is written:— "The,, did Solomon build an bigh place for Chemosh, the abomination of ftfoab, in the hill that is before Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the children of Ammon." It was these abominations whirl, Josiah cleared away:— for "he defiled Tophet, which is i„ the valley of the children of Hinnom, that no man might make his son or bis daughter to pass through the fire to Molech." "And the high places thai wo,-,- before Jerusalem, which were on the right hand of the mount of 1 68 EASTWARD. corruption, which Solomon the King of Israel had builded for Ashtoreth the abomination of the Zidonians, and for Chemosh the abomination of the Moabites, and for Milcom the abomination of the children of Amnion, did the king defile." As if to com- plete the painful associations, there is pointed out among the rocky hills of Hinnom, immediately below the Hill of Evil Counsel; Aceldama, or "the field of blood," where, into a caverned pit, now built over, bodies were cast, with hardly any other burial than to lie there under a little sprinkling of earth until turned into corruption. It has been closed for a century, but will ever be associated with the traitor. No wonder this spot in the valley of Hinnom, with its wickedness, its consuming fires, its vile moral as well as physical corruption, should have become, as Tophet or Gehenna, a type of Hell. The inhabitants in the immediate neighbourhood of these in- famous spots do not redeem their character. The villagers of Siloam partly live in houses and partly in the old rock tombs, and are notorious thieves — such a collection of scoundreldom as might hi' the joint product of gipsies, vagabond Jews, and the lowest Arabs. Their presence in Siloam makes all the Mount of Olives unsafe after nightfall to those who are not protected. But the name Siloam recalls a very different scene, and one for ever associated with the Saviour's power and love. There is no dispute whatever regarding the site of the old Pool, which has never been challenged.* It is about 53 feet long, 18 feet wide, and 1!) feet deep. It is surrounded by an old wall, which, it has been suggested, is the same as that of which it is recorded: — "Shallum built the wall and the pool of Siloam by the king's garden." Above it, as the illustration shows, is an arch, under which a flight of steps descends to the water, that flows past, clear and pure, into the pool. In this the blind man was sent to * Its position is marked 28 on the plan, at p. 1 IS. J ERUSALEM WITH0U1 I II I \\ ALLS. K / wash. This one fact sheds a lighl and glory over the whole place. Wecan easily picture to ourselves the poor man proceeding with hie clay-covered eyes, bis anxious and eager faith subduing his doubts and fears > ""^1 the water [avea his face, and then ! he se. - foi the first time those very rocks, perhaps thai same old wall; and better than all, with the eye of the spirit, as well as of the flesh, '"&••■'■■■■ ■"•■ r "^'"' ' r "' VMr- Pool of Si loam j I he sees Jesus as " the Senl " of ( rod, and as his s-n iour. It is no1 the realising merely of this miracle or of an) others as historical facts that dues us good, but it is the realising of the more abiding and life-giving truth thai this Saviour ever liveth, able and willing to open the eyes of all men. whom >in hath blinded, and to "give light to those who sit in darkness." Jt has been proved that this Pool of Siloam is fed from sources which extend towards Zion, and possibly Moriah. It is conducted down to the valley opposite the village of Siloam, where it Hows out a sparkling stream, round which women were merrily washing clothes, and men giving drink to their horses, as we passed. A conduit also has been traced, winch connects it with the Fountain of the Virgin, which is still higher up the valley,* and is reached by a descent of twenty-six steps. It exhibits the curious phenomenon of an intermittent fountain, ebbing and flowing at certain intervals, which is explain- able on the principle of the syphon. This stream is no doubt connected with the great reservoirs under the Temple. It cannot, however, be identified with the Pool of Bethesda and the "moving of the waters;" but it is more than likely that that fountain, if ever discovered and cleared out, will exhibit the same pheno- menon. There is no citv in the world, certainly not in the East — if we except Damascus — more abundantly supplied with water than Jeru- salem, not only from its innumerable private cisterns, hut also from its natural springs. Many of these were filled up by Hezekiah with much trouble : — for " he took counsel with his princes and his mighty men to stop the waters of the fountains which were with- out the city ; and they did help him. So there was gathered much people together, who stopped all the fountains, and the brook that ran through the midst of the land, saying, Why should the kings of Assyria come, and find much water?" Hezekiah also '-topped the upper watercourse of Gihon, and brought it straight down to the wot side of the city of David." Earthquakes, which have often shaken these hills and shattere I * Marked 17 en the plan, at p. 1 18. J KK ISA I. KM \\ I I ||,, | | | || | WA] these rocks, musl have affected the supplj of water, both in J salem and throughout the whole c try. The exi tins upply notwithstanding, if properly utilised and distributed, would \»- more than sufficient, not only for the inhabitants of the city, but also for the irrigation of the neighl "hood; while if wells were dug through the Limestone strata, we Bee no reason why, in a country whose average rainfall is much higher than thai of F iiiiitniu ot tli. \ irx i i I Scotland, water should nol yel 1 1 • > w everywhere and bless the arid soil. The overflow of Siloam non gladdens the lowei por- tion oi the Valley of Jehoshaphat, near En-Rogel, which was "the king's gardens." This spol is green and fertile still; and when one has seen whal water has done for the garo\ ns of Urtas, 1 7 2 EASTWARD. he can understand how beautiful those king's gardens must once have been. But let us to Olivet and Bethany. The moment one leaves the gate of St. Stephen, which leads down to the Kidron, and thence to Olivet, he is struck with the unartistic roughness of the road. The last thing on earth one would expect i" see would be a city gate without a road leading to it. Yet there is no road here but a path steep and rough as one on the face of a Sighland hill. A cautious man feels uneasy in riding down it, unless his horse be very sure-footed. He has every reason for fearing a glissade over the loose small stones. It has to all appearance been left to take care of itself since history began. But it is nevertheless tl Id highway to Bethany and Jericho- Fortunately, the descent is only two or three hundred feet. At the bottom, when the dry bed of the brook Kidron is passed, one finds himself in the angle between the road which leads directly over Olivet to Bethany and that which leads to the same point along the side of the hill to the right. At this spot tradition has placed the Garden of Gethsemane,— an unlikely place, in my humble opinion, from its want of seclusion ; for those roads must always have met here. How many quiet nooks are there not up the valley! The priests, with their usual taste and their wonder- fid talent for spoiling every place which they wish to make sacred after their own fashion, have enclosed the fine old olives, which it is assumed mark the spot, within a square of high whitewashed walls, like what might surround a graveyard, and have made an ugly garden with flowerbeds within it ! I did not enter the place. Who, were it even the actual spot, could indulge in such feelings as it is calculated to excite, with a monk at hand exhibiting as holy places "the cave of agony," "the spot where the disciples fell asleep," "where Judas betrayed Him." &c. It would have bi en great enjoyment could I have sat alone, under those patriar- chal trees, with the rough hill-side or a bit of greensward beneath my feet. As it was, I preferred an undisturbed and quiel look over the wall at the -ran. I old olives. It was something bo think of all they have witnessed during the centuries in which thej have been silently gazing al Jerusalem and on passers by. I ascended Olivel for the first time by the road which almost directly from Gethsemane to the mosque on the top of the hill, and which from thence descends to Bethany. This i- the road along which David walked in sorrow when be fled from Absalom, to take from the summit of Olivel bis lasl sad look, for a time, of the beloved and holy Jerusalem which he had himself conquered— where he had reigned as the firs! obedient king "according to God's own heart''— and where be bad contributed to the Temple-worship those songs of praise which have been mon enduring, more expressive of the sorrows and joys of the Bead of the Church and of all its members, than it was given even to him- self to know ; and which will be sung by generations yet unborn It is a rough ascent — a commonplace country road— in no way associated with kingly processions of any kind, any more than was David's own humble attire as a shepherd lad in the days of his youth with his splendour as a kin-- or his immortal fame as a man. The view from the mosque on the summit of <>li\et. or from a Waly a short way beyond it to the east, is famous. All travellers make a point of seeing it. If not the most extensive or command- ing in Palestine, it is on the whole the mosl interesting, although familiarity with Jerusalem takes away from the effecl which it would haw on any one who could see it ,-i- his firsl greal prosp ct Towards the east, and between us and the Dead Sea, we see the Wilderness of Judea, hare, bleak, and desolate, as would be the rocky bottom of the sea if upheaved and hit t,. bleach beneath a burning sun. We see also a bit of the Dead Sea i than 3(MK) feet below us "lying dead in it- trough." Tl gh about 1 2 miles off, it looks very near. It appears hoi and steamy, with a ■74 EASTWARD. misty haze hanging over it. One cannot l>ut associate all that is wild, Lonely, and mysterious, with this dismal lake. It does not suggest one noble thought, one act of greatness or goodness, done 1 »v man or woman alive or dead, to shed over it a redeeming ray of glory. We can also trace the course of the Jordan, from its lino of green vegetation. The memories of the great and good which it, recalls area relief to the mind. Its entrance into the Dead Sea seems like life losing itself in death. There rises also before the eye — bolder and grander than when seen from Neby Samwil — the greal eastern wall of the ridge of Moab, the separation between modem civilisation and almost unknown Arabia, with its ancient cities, far-spread pasture lands, arid wastes, powerful tribes, and primeval traditions. Standing on Olivet, one fully realises the contrast between East and West, with Palestine as their connect- ing bridge. From this point one also takes in at a glance, informed no doubt by some previous observation, the general topography of Jeru- salem. He is struck with the sort of promontory abutting from the general table-land on which it is built; with the wonderful defence against ancient modes of warfare afforded by the valleys that, like deep ditches, surround it on east and south, hindering any enemy from coming near its walls ; with the strong military positions which were afforded by the principal eminences within the city — such as the Temple Area, separated from Zion by the valley of the Tyropo;an, and the high ground of Acra and Bezetha — eminences distinctly visible. The hills that surround Jerusalem are also visible, not only in the circling sweep of Olivet and its spurs, but further off in the ridge of which Neby Samwil is the highest point, and which is seen as a wall between the city and the heathen trihes dwelling by the sea. One can see how it rested like an eagle's nest on a rocky eminence, or like a, lion's lair, visible from every side, yet not to be approached with im- punity : and how Jerusalem visibly bore the motto of dear old J ERUSALEM WITHOl I 1 II i. WAL1 Scotland : ■" NV me impune lacessit." Th6 compactness of the city must also haw been one of its marked features. Th< re were no human habitations beyond its gates. There il lay like a ch( • board, with its men, bishops, knights, and castles, within the walls, while all beyond was painfully empty and bare; limestone every- where, with little of green to relieve the eye. The inner eye alone is satisfied. But if the reader will again take the trouble to look at the small plan of the city and its environs p. L18 . and then al the views taken from differenl points, especially at those which as a frontispiece to this book, he will have a better idea of Jerusalem than any mere verbal description could give him.* 1 descended to Bethany by the same road which David took when Hushai met him, and when Shimei cursed him. I was not disappointed with the appearance of Bethany. Ead it been hare rock it would still have been holy ground. The village consists, as all others in Palestine do, of brown mud hovels witli encircling mud walls— dust, confusion, children, dogs, and poverty. Everything is squalid as in Skibbereen, Connemara, or, alas ! some villages in the Eebrides. But yet there are patches of greenery and trees to be seen, and the singing of birds to be heard ; while the broken ground, and glens, and "braes," with the glim * Let me act as interpreter of these view-. The Lower of the large panoi views jfives a general idea of the city as seen from the aorfh Bide of the M rant of Olives. To the left is the Mount of Olives. The roun 1 hill-1 »p - • in b nyond it in the distance is Jebel Fureidis, or the Eerodion, where Eerod, the murderer of " the Innocents," is buried, and which rises hum sdiately ab >ve B il hlehe a east and north walls of Jerusalem are seen. At the south end of the east wall is the Haram Area, extending from the corner, nearly to St. S sph a i tioh is situated about the middle of the long white wall. The upper panoramic view is of the whole Earam area, the Mosque "f Omar and its platform, and various small Moslem buildings. The op bh the Mosque el Aksah. the site (as I suppose) of the old Temple, is in the distant corner. The other views will he understood from my subsequent remarka 1 76 EASTWARD. into the deep descent which leads to Jericho, save it from being commonplace, and give to it a certain wild, sequestered. Highland character of its own. When it was well cultivated and well wooded, it must have been of all the places near Jerusalem the must peaceful, as well as the must picturesque. Bethany, from the NIC, near tin- Jericho road. It is not possible, in such a spot, to be silent upon the miracle which will for ever be associated with Bethany. What though all that can l»e said may have been already said on the subject, still, like an old familiar melody, one loves to repeat it, and tries to reproduce the holy feelings of faith and adoration which it was intended to excite. What a comfort, for example, to the "common people" of all lands, is tin,' thought that "Jesus loved Martha and Mary, and Lazarus," — that He found rest and repose foi his weary heart in the Loving responses of this family, who. it may In', were quite unknown to the big and busy world of Sanhedrim and Synagogue in Jerusalem. How strengthening to know that those whom He loved were yet left in the profound mystery of a great sorrow, utterly unexplainable for a season. How strange that their brother Lazarus was permitted to sicken, die. ami be buried, without even one word or comforting message from their Friend, their Lord and Saviour, who had nevertheless JERUSALEM WITHOUT THE WALLS. 177 heard and answered the prayers of the verj heathen, and had healed their sick and raised their dead, in some cases without his even being asked to do so, — ye1 who came qoI to those He most loved when they mosl needed Him! Thissilence was a dark cloud over the home of Bethany, and why then wonder thai it has often since brooded over homes us beloved? Eow full of holy teaching, which ought to lighten us in our sorrow, is it to remem- ber that the Lord, in spite of appearances to the contrary, was all the while solving the intricate problem, how to do mosl g 1. noi only to Lazarus himself, and to Martha and Mary, bu1 also to the disciples and the Jews! — and that Ee was during this time pondering the awful question in regard to Himself and the world, whether it was God's will that He should by raising Lazarus hasten his own death! And is it noi inexpressibly touching and humiliating to our shortsighted unbelief, to see how Martha and Mary had their faith weakened in his love, as if He could have " overlooked their cause," — an unbelief which was expressed in their words, " If thou hadst been here our brother had not died," which implied the rebuke, " And why werl thou not here ? " What a revelation too of a Saviour's love are his tears, and his groans within Himself, occasioned by the heart-breaking spectacle, not of death which He was about to change into life, bu1 of faith in Himself dying out in the very bosom of his best beloved This sorrow of his was love manifested in its deepest, truest, divinesl form. For while many can weep with us or for us. because ol the death of a friend — a human sorrow which all can understand, and m<»re or less share ; yet how few— none, indeed, but those who share the holy sympathies of Jesus can weep for us because of our sin, or because our faith in (led is dying or dead ! rwice only did He weep— on this occasion, and when entering Jerusalem a few davs alter from this same Bethany, On his mad to death. through a conspiracy occasioned bj his having raised Lazarus to I7S EASTWARD. lit'.-. And these tears were also shed on account of the same terrible unbelief. Think of it. reader ! To be suspected of want of love, as Jesus was, when, to raise His friend from the grave, He had resolved to die Eimself, if God so willed it ! Mary must have fell this, when, lull of unspeakable love, she anointed Him for His burial. Again, what a rehearsal was here, in this otherwise common- place village, of the glorious time when we and our dead shall hear the same voice, and come forth from our graves, to sit down to a glorious feasi above, with our happy social life restored !* We returned from Bethany by the old road from Jericho, which firsl ascends from the village for about 100 yards, then descends along one side of a wady which opens out from the roots of Olivet, and. ascending the opposite side, debouches on the high ground leading across the flank of Olivet to Jerusalem. It there reaches a point opposite the south-east angle of the Temple, and from * The Engl i sh translator of Renan's "Vie de Jesus" informs us in his pn that "the great problem of the present age is to preserve the religious spirit, whilst getting- rid of the superstitions and absurdities that deform it. and which are alike opposed to science and common-sense." The manner in which ML R< nan endeavours to get quit of the resurrection of Lazarus, is an illustration of how he would solve this problem. As to the part played by those whom Jesus loved in this supposed miracle, he says: — "It may be that Lazarus, still pallid with disease, caused himself to be wrapped in bandages as if dead, and shut up in the tomb of his family." Jesus acquiesced in this pious fraud ; but, as M. Renan observes, " in the dull and impure city of Jerusalem, Jesus was no longer Himself. Not by any fault of His own, but by that of others, His conscience bad losl some- thing- of its original purity. Desperate and driven to extremity, He was no Hie "'.'.ii Mentor. His mission overwhelmed Him. and He yielded to its torreni " Such was the conduct of Him of whom .M, Renan is pleased to say : "All ages will proclaim that, among the sons of men, there is none born greater than Jesus." Wecan bul hope, for the sake of France, if not of humanity, that M. Renan himself is greater far in common honesty than he represents Jesus to have b© a. Bui aft c reading such sentiments, the tears of Jesus for the unbelief thai wounded Him supply some comfort. We remember, too, how the A.postle Paul was once, like M. Renan, "a blasphemer," yet how he obtained mercj : a rn to all who should hereafter believe in the name of Jesus. thence rapidly descends to Gethsemi The place wh< - 1 beheld the city and wepl oveT it is unquestionably th There Jerusalem suddenly bursts on the 3ight, bul upon di (send- ing a short distance further down the hill the vie^ "tit is rapidly concealed by the Karam wall* It is impossible to journey along this road withoul having one's thoughts filled with the scenes of thai memorable day. Bui tl as well as the Locality, have been so beautifully and accurately described by Dean Stauley, thai I am persuaded tho readers who have uol access to his I k will be obliged to me for transcribing bis description instead of attempting 01 f my own : — "In the morning, He set forth on Eis journey. Three patln [ead, and probably always Led, 1V.an Bethany to Jerusalem ; one, a Long circuit over the northern shoulder of Mounl Olivet, down the valley which parts it from Scopus; another a s.teep footpath over the summit; the third, the natural continuation of the road by which mounted travellers always approach the city from * I think it is quite possible to enable the reader to see clearly where thif is, if he will again consult the Plan (p. 118) and the Illustrations. B< in the first place Look at the"View of the Country between Jerusalem and Bethany." He will there notice at the righl corn< r, the road from Bethany ere it descends out of sight into the gli a. II :,i n the bare, open hill-side, until opposite the corner of th< Earam Wall, which is mi the extreme left of the ri< w. Twoother illustrations ar< given to enable the reader to understand the p position of this, one of the mosl profoundly interesting spots in the world. I„ the picture " Mount Moriah and the Mount of rith the B Valley, Siloam, and Mount of Corruption, from the South," the | ,,„ the right, in the white c I, and about where two mosque on the top of Olivet. In another illustration, - the ValL v of Jehoshaphat," it is above the tomb on the right of the p I may add, that the hill-top, the second from the right ba «View of the Country between Jerusalem and Bethany," i 1h „ stupendous event which occurred when our Saviour I B Ear M Bethany and ascended in their sight, blessing them, and - yet wet with Hi> bl L i So EASTWARD. Ji iricho, over the southern shoulder, between the summit which contains the Tombs of the Prophets and that called the ' Mount of Offence.' There can be no doubt thai this last is the road of the Entry of Christ, not only because, as just stated, it is, and must always have been, the usual approach for horsemen and for large caravan^ such as then were concerned, lint also because this is the only one of the three approaches which meets the require- ments of the narrative which follows. " Two vast streams of people met on that day. The one poured out from the city, and as they came through the gardens whose clusters of palm rose on the southern corner of Olivet, they cut down the long branches, as was their wont at the Feast of Taber- nacles, and moved upwards towards Bethany, with loud shouts of welcome. From Bethany streamed forth the crowds who had assembled there on the previous night, and who came testifying t«» the great .event at the sepulchre of Lazarus. The road soon loses sight of Bethany. It is now a rough, but still broad and well-defined mountain track, winding over rock and loose stone- ; a steep declivity below on the left ; the sloping shoulder of Olivet above on the right; fig-trees below and above, here and there growing out of the rocky soil. Along the road the multitudes threw down the boughs severed from the olive-trees through which they were forcing their way, or spread out a rude matting formed of the palm-branches which they had already cut as they came out. The larger portion — those, perhaps, who had escorted Him from Bethany— unwrapped their loose cloaks from their shoulders, and stretched them along the rough path, to form a momentary carpet as He approached. The two stream- met midway. Half of the vast mass, turning round, preceded ; the other half followed. Gradually the long procession swept up and over the ridge, where first begins 'the descent of the Mount of Olives' towards Jeru- salem. At this point the first view is caught of the south-eastern corner of the city. The Temple and the more northern portions are hid by the slope of Olivel on bhe right; wli.it i- ieen i- only Mount Zion, now for the most part a rough field, crowned with the Mosque of David ami 1 1n • aii^lc ol' the western walls, but then covered with houses to its base, surmounted bj the Castle of Herod, on the supposed site of the palace of David, from which that portion of Jerusalem, emphatically 'TheCitj of David, 1 de- rived its name It was at tins precise point, a He dp u oear, at the descent of the Mount of Olives,'— may it not have been from the sight thus opening upon them ? thai the hymn of triumph, the earliest hymn of Christian devotion, burst forth from the mul- titude, ' Hosanna to the son of David ! Blessed La He that cometh in the uameofthe Lord. Blessed is the kingdom that cometh of our father David. Hosanna . . . peace . . . glory in the highest' There was a pause as the shout rang through the Long defile; and, as the Pharisees who stood hy in the crowd complained, I Ee point d to the 'stones' which, strewn beneath their feet, would imme- diately : cry out' if 'these were to hold their peace.'* "Again the procession advanced. The road descends a Blight declivity, and the glimpse of the city is again withdrawn behind the intervening ridge of Olivet. A few moments, and the path mounts again; it climbs a rugged ascent, it reaches a ledg smooth rock, and in an instant the whole city bursts into view. As now the dome of the Biosque El-Aksah rises like a ghost from the earth before the traveller stands on a ledge, bo then must have risen the Temple tower; as now the vast inclosure of the Mussul- man sanctuary, so then must bave spread the Temple courts; as now the gray town on its broken hills, so then the magnificent * I was surprised to find on one oocasion, when standing with my brother at this spot on the Mount of Olives, thai other two of our party who -t od at I of the Earam wall on the other side of the valley, could distinctlj hoaroui addressed I i them when spoken in a Loud and clear voice. The priests in the Temple maj have thus heard thevery words of the loud and jubilai triumph which wele >mi d th< M city, with its background — long since vanished away — of gardens and suburbs on tlie western plateau behind. Immediately below was the Valley of the ELidron, here seen in its greatest depth as it joins the Valley of Binnom, and thus giving full effect to the great peculiarity of Jerusalem seen only on its eastern side — its situa- tion as of a city rising out of a deep abyss. It is hardly possible to doubt that this rise and turn of the road; this rocky Ledge, was the exact point where the multitude paused again, and He, ' when He beheld the city, wept over it.' •• Nowhere else on the Mount of Olives is there a view like this. By the two other approaches above mentioned, over the summit and over the northern shoulder of the hill, the city reveals itself gradually; there is no partial glimpse, like that which has been just described as agreeing so well with the first outbreak of popular acclamation, still less is there any point where, as here, the city and temple would suddenly hurst into view, producing the sudden and affecting impression described in the Gospel narrative. And this precise coincidence is the more remarkable because the tradi- tional route of the Triumphal Entry is over the summit of Olivet ; and the traditional spot of the lamentation is at a place half-way down the mountain, to which the description is wholly inapplicable, whilst no tradition attaches to this, the only road by which a large procession could have come; and this, almost the only spot of the Mount of Olives which the Gospel narrative fixes with exact certainty, is almost the only unmarked spot, — undented or unhal- lowed by mosque or church, chapel or tower, — left to speak for itself, that here the Lord stayed his onward march, and here his eyes beheld what is still the most impressive view which the neighbourhood of Jerusalem furnishes, and the tears rushed forth at the sight. " After this scene, which, with the one exception of the conversa- tion a1 the Well of Jacob, stands alone in the' Gospel history for the vividness and precision of its localisation, it is hardly worth while to dwell on the spots elsewhere poiuted out bj tradition or pro- bability on the rest of the mountain. They belong, foi th< part, to the ' Eoly Places' of Later pilgrimage, nol to the autli illustrations of the Sacred I listory."* I spent my last Sunday in Jerusalem on the Mnunl of ' Hi It was a day never to be forgotten; one of those beavenlj days which cannot die, bul become pari of one's life. Alone, with no companion bu1 my Bible, I went along the Via Dolorosa, p out by St. Stephen's gate, descended to Gethsemane, and from thence pursued the old road already described, which leads to Bethany and Jericho, l>\ the western slope of Olivet overlooking the valley of Jehoshaphat. At the summit of the shorl ascenl o few ledges of limestone ruck, carpeted with greensward, crop out beside the path, and a fiord a natural resting-place, of which I availed myself. The old wall and the well-known corner of th< Haram ana were immediately opposite me, and so visibly mar in the pure transparent atmosphere that the stones could bee tinted, and the green tufts of the plants anion- them. The day v. course cloudless and hot, but it was not oppressive, for the air was stirred by a gentle breeze with a mountain freshness in it. Th the city was so near, with most of its people pursuing their usual avocations both within and without the walls, yet no 3ound turbed the intense repose except, strange to say, the crowii cocks, as if at early morn, and the shouts of a solitary peasant who was urging his plough across tl ace busj but now d- • slopes of Oph el. 1 gazed on Jerusalem until it seemed to dream — a white ghostly city in the silent air. M\ thoughts took no fixed shape, but were burthened with a weight, almost op] sive, from ages of history ; or were lost in the presena undefined source of awe, wonder, and sorrow. I was recalled, how- ever, to what was \,iy innr when I opened m\ Bible, and * '• Sinai and Palest in.-,*' pp, 100 194, 184 LAST WAR I). thesewords: "As ll< went out of the Temple* one of His disciples s.-iitli unto Him, Master, see what manner of stones and what buildings are here \ And Jesus answering said unto him, Seest thou these great buildings? There shall not be left one stone upon another, thai shall not' be thrown down. And as He sat upon tL<' Mount of Olives over against the Temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew asked Him privately, Tell us, when shall these things be '. and what shall be the sign when all these things shall be fulfilled ?" And if Jesus on His way to Bethany " .sit upon the Mount of Olives over against the Tern pie," there is certainly uo place I could discover which was so likely to be the very spot as the one which I occupied. Here, in this holy place untouched by the hand of man, unnoticed, and apparently un- known. I read the prophecies, parables, and exhortations of our hold uttered in the healing of His holy Apostles, and recorded for all time in the 24th and 25th chapters of St. Matthew. They include, among others, the prophecies of His first coming at the destruction of Jerusalem, then in her glory, now so desolate — with Hi- second coming at the end of the world ; the parables of t he ten virgins and of the ten talents, and the trial of love at the last judgment — all ending in the touching announcement, " Ye know th.it after two days is the feast of the passover, and the Son of Man is betrayed to be crucified!" "All these sayings" I read undisturbed while sitting over against the old wall within which the Temple once rose in its strength and glory, but uoi one stone of which is now left upon another. While pondering over the words of Christ, T was struck by seeing near me a fig-tree, with its branches putting forth Leaves, and in some places young tigs. The unexpected illustration of the words 1 had just read, as here first uttered, " When * Was this by the Double Gate in the south wall I have already described, with tin- great stones all around, and which was as Ear as I can judge, the one by which II. would pass from the Temple bom aids 01iv< I ? JERUSALEM WITH01 I THE WA1 the fig-tree putteth forth leaves, ye know lummi i brought to my mind thai surety these were poken a< the season of the year as thai in which I read them, and I I once reminded thai the day was Palm Sunday, the anniversary wry time when our Lord had wept here ovi r Ji ru all m, and ha I also delivered I hose discourses. When in Palestine I fell thai there were times in which tin- past seemed so present, Chrisl and Bis word so living and real, that had any one suddenly appeared, and said, I saw Him, and heard Him,' I should qo1 have been surprised; and this daj one of them. From this spot I went to that other, very near, where our Lord wept over Jerusalem. J will nol attempl to express hen what those human tears seem to me to reveal of " the mind of Christ," the Son of God and the Son of Man, regarding man - sin ; what they reveal of man's loss, nol only to himself bul also to his Saviour; and of the unutterable love thai would save, as well as of the mysterious wilfulness thai would qoI be saved For though it is difficult for a minister of the Gospel to refrain from utt< his thoughts on such profoundly interesting topics, yel it i- in sary to impose some restraint on their expression, as almost > ver) spot in Palestine is a texl for .such meditations. There is one feature of the view from this spot which I was 1 1> ■ t prepared lor, and which greatly impressed me. It is the Jewish burying-ground. For centuries, I know not how manj J< every country have come to die in Jerusalem that thej might be buried in the valley of Jehoshaphat. Their wish to lie hei connected with certain superstitious views regarding the I Judgment which they believe is to take place on this -i I certain privileges which are to be then bestowed on all who here interred. And thus thousands, possiblj millions, ol tin bigoted and superstitious Israelites, from ever) part ol the world, have in the evening of life flocked to this the old "citj 1 86 I '. A S T \Y A K I ). solemnities," thai after death they might be gathered to their fathers beneath the shadow of its walls. I never saw a graveyard to me so impressive. Scutari is far more extensive, and more terribly deathlike. But from its huddled monuments and crowded trees, it is impossible to penetrate its dark and complicated recesses. Here, there are no monuments, and no trees. Each grave is covered by a flat stone \\ith Hebrew inscriptions, and has oothing between it and the open sky. These stones pave the whole eastern slope of the valley. Every inch of Tmibs in tlif Taliej ofJehoshaphat, with Jews' Burial Ground ground where a human 1> idy can lie is covered. Along the hanks of the Kidroii. up the side of Olivet, and across the road leading from Bethany to Jerusalem, stretches this vast city of the dead. As a place of burial it differs from almost every other on earth. in being, as 1.0 other is, a witness to a faith that is firm, decided, and uncompromising until death. It i- not therefore merely the vast multitude who sleep here, but the faith which tiny held in regard to their Messias, that makes this spectacle so impressive, especially when seen from the spot where He had wept over •loin aliin. Remembering all the wanderings of the lost sheep of ill" house of Israel, all they had Buffered, Bince the Lord had mourned for them standing here, and their long and dreary nighl of unbelief in Mis mission and in Bis love, Hi- words had if possible, a deeper ami more awful meaning. I seemed to Him standing again and weeping here, and addres ing those who crowded up to the very place where He bad si I and wept while on earth, and again saying to them, "0 Jerusalem, Jeru- salem! how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a lien gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." "0 thai thou, even thou, hadsl known the thii thy peace ; but now they are hid from thine e\ And when the question as to the future hope of [srael was here suggested, how vividly did the scene before me realise the vision of the Prophet and at the same time furnish the only answer I could give to the question : — " The hand of the hold was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which, was full of hones, and caused me to pass by them round about : and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and lo, they were very dry. And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live? And [ answered, I God, thou knowest. Again he said unto me, Prophesy upon these hones, and say unto them, () ye dry hones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus saith the hold God unto these hem-; Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live: and 1 will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon y< u. and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that 1 am the Lord. So I prophesied as I was com- manded : and as I pri phe ied, Lhere was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the hones came together, lone to bis bone. And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them the skin covered them above; bul there was no breath in them. Then said he unto me. Prophesy unto the wind, propln sy, -• n ol man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord God ; Come from iSS I. VST WARD. tlif four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live. So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army. Then he said unto me. Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel : behold, they say. Our bones are dried, and our hope is lost : we are cut off for our parts. Therefore prophesy and say unto them, Thus saith the Lord God ; Behold, () my people, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, and bring you into the land of [srael. And ye shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O my people, and brought yon up out of your graves, and shall put my spirit in you, and ye shall live, and I shall place you in your own land : then shall ye know that I the Lord have spoken it, and performed it, saith the Lord;' Before I returned to Jerusalem I wandered among the solitudes of Olivet — hardly knowing where. I sat and read my Bible under one tree, and then under another; descended some glen, or unknown and solitary nook, feeling only that this was Olivet, and that the whole hill was consecrated by the Saviour, iiut one experience which possessed me I remember with gratitude; and it was, of the presence of Christ everywhere, and of the true worship of God not being on this mountain or that, but wherever any child is found to worship Him in spirit and in truth. 1 was pot tempted even to fancy, on that holy day, that Christ was nearer to me, or prayer more real in Jerusalem or on Olivet, than when I entered " into my closet and shut the door" amidst the everyday world of Glasgow. And so, while 1 thanked God with my whole heart for having permitted me to visit these spots, which shed such a light on the history of the Eoly One who in the flesh had lived and moved among them, T felt, if possible, still more thankful tor tin' conviction, now deepened, that the poorest in my parish at home — the busy artisan, the man or woman in the dark lane, the crowded alley, or the lonely garret — could, through simple JERUSALEM WITHOl I 1111. VVA1 faith and childlike love, enjoy the presi nee th< gra and tin i of Christ, as truly as if thej were able to make a pilgrimagi to the Holy Land, and to worship, on the Lord's Day, among th< of Olivet, or on the spots consecrated of old l>\ the bodily pn of the Saviour. Most thankful was I for knowing thai tl P not the place, was holy — that His love was nol local 1 mi t univei and that nol only i ng the silent hills of Palestine, in Jerusalem, Nazareth, or Tiberias, but in our crowded cities, common-place villages, highland glens, and in every nook and corner of th< palace of our Father, Jesus maj be known, loved, obeyed, and glorified, With thanksgiving, I repeated on Olivet : "There are in tins loud stu] ( >r human care and crime, With whom the melodies a Of th' everlasting chime, — Who carry music in their hearl Through dusky lane and wrangling mart. Plying their daily task with busier feel Because their & cret souls a holy .-train n | VITT. TUC NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. THE JORDAN, THE DEAD SEA, AND MAR SABA. LIKE all travellers in Palestine, we of course paid a visit to the Jordan and Dead Sea. To accomplish the journey, we were advised to take a guard. The very proposal threw a certain air of romantic danger over the expedition. 1 almost began to regret that I had no supply of bullets for my revolver; and to become painfully doubtful oJ its even being free from rust, to say nothing of the trustworthiness of the caps, should the trigger ever be drawn. But if it came to fighting, which 1 sincerely deprecated as involving a most unworthy position for a clergyman, I had fortunately no doubt whatever ol my utter incapacity to hit either man or horse, should I be fool enough to try ; and was confident that I would adopt no other course in the event of a "scrimmage," than that of either yield- ing with all grace to the Ishmaelite, or, if possible, galloping oft'. There was no use, however, in speculating as to how one would feel or look, if stripped and robbed in the wilderness. It was enough to know that we had resolved to see certain places, and thai an escorl was necessary, come weal or wee. Let me illustrate the position of a modern traveller wishing to see the Dead Sea, by a parallel case which mighl have occurred to a Sassenach wishing to visit Loch Lomond in the days of the Sheik Hob Key, when his tribe of the Gregarach were in possession of One side of the lake. The traveller, we will suppose, reaches Glasgow on horseback a lew weeks after leaving London, and Ml I NEIGHBOURHOOD O] JERl IAL1 M 191 brings with him a Letter of introduction to Baili< Nicol Jarvic from some Scotch merchanl in the metropoli He oppli< 1 1 the Bailie for advice as to the safest manner of accomplishing hie purpose of seeing the frontier wilderness of ill'' Highlands The magistrate speaks of its danger; and is ready, over his ale in th< Salt-market, to narrate his own adventures and al Al.. 1- foyle- — l>ut comforts the traveller bj the assurance thai the red- haired Sheik, Rob, happ< us to be in town ; thai he i- a frii nd of his, having more than once saved him from the clutch of the Pasha Provost ; and thai he will easil) arrange for a guan black-mail being paid. The Sassenach smiles al the id< to his fire-arms, talks contemptuously of the I rach, enlarges on the grandeur of the Saxon, and resolves to go with his own servant John only. The Sheik hears this, and vows veng< ance for being thus done out of 51., which would keep his spit uclu pouch, full of tobacco for months. So he summons his henchman, the Dugald Cratur, and tells him to be off to the Wady of Bal- maha, and there assemble half a dozen of his tribe, to lie in wait among the heather and behind the rocks with their long guns, until they see a white-faced Sassenach, with trousers, coming along, — then to fire some powder, rush at him with a yell Gaelic in his ear, rob him, — bul do no more. "The next chiel, adds the Sheik, taking a snuff, " will be more ceeviL' Thus would act in all probability the Rob Roy of the Taamireh, AJlaween, Ana/.i, Beni Sakker, or any other tribe. No doubl at 1 Lomond the Graham mighl dispute the righl with the Gregarach of keeping the Wady of Balmaha as a preserve or oet for travel- lers, and they mighl accordingly fighl Elob or Dugald, when ti lers were under their protection and paying them black-mai mighl the A.nazi fighl the Taamireh. Still it is better for ■ reason to pay and take your chance, assured thai then you ai ordinary circumstances the extraordinarj being before leaving Jerusalem quit 1 in goiug to mosl spots in 192 EASTWARD. Palestine as to most spots in Europe, especially Italy. And there is one real advantage gained by such arrangements, that is the secu- rity given, and respected, that any property stolen will be replaced. A tall Aral) Sheik, in a shabby dressing-gown, with turban above, and bare legs thrust into clouted shoes below, did us the honour of squatting himself on our divan one evening, and of agreeing to protect us with the lives of all his tribe. The trifling sum asked for this service, it must be presumed, expressed the small extent of our risk and the little value pu1 upon the lives of the warriors who might he sacrificed, rather than that put upon their honour. The day before we started I was loitering in the streets and by- lanes of the city seeing what I could see. When opposite the Austrian Consul's house 1 was attracted by a troop of Arab horse- men drawn up in Loose array. A handsomely-dressed Turk was calling ever their names. They had termed the guard, I was told, of the Duke of Modena from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and were now being paid off. In my life I never beheld such a set of raga- muffins! The horses were far superior in their breeding to those who rode them ; they were small, thin, and wiry, but with a lite in their eyes and a defleshed firmness of muscle which marked them as tit for end urine- hard work. Their riders wore the usual Aral) dress. They had karh'ahs bound with cord round their heads ; their cotton or camel-hair garments were sufficiently thin and loose; theii- feet were stuck into coarse leather sandals or boots ; and they were accoutred with long spears and guns slung over their backs. Their faces were studies! Each rose from its own neck a distinct individual face, with all the essentials of a face, but these were arranged with an art which I had never seen I) 'tore, concentrating scoundrel in every feature, and forming a combined whole to me quite unparalleled. I singled out two or three, and pictured to myself the feelings of any decorous parson, or sensitive lady, who might tall into such ha mis on the lonely and THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 193 bituminous shores of the Dead Sea, and who mighl endeavour to ,•,,;„! their fate in the expression of such countenances '. < me man, ;t black, seemed to me the personification of animal uglii Next day, when our escort was mustered, I discovered among them my black friend, and some of my other studios of human villany. But I am bound in justice to add, that, after having I- 1 politely introduced to them, and making their acquaintance through our mutual friend Hadji Ali. and having done all I could to dis- cover the cloven foot in them, the impression made upon me was, that they were all very good-natured and obliging fellows, - inclined qo doubt, like all the children of Jacob as well as of Esau, to backsheesh, but on the whole pleasanl and agreeable and 1 should think much in advance of the Gregarach of old I have do doubt that, in the event of a fight, they would have fired their guns, in a way I could not have done mine, but 1 have also no doubt thai had I bolted they would have accompanied me (in kindness no doubt), and have even led the way far ahead. We clattered over the stones of the Via Dolorosa, passed through St. Stephen's Gate, ascended the slope of Olivet, skilled the mud hovels of Bethany, and immediately began the rapid descent ol the gorge leading for about twenty miles to Jericho. This road has been made forever famous, not so much, strange to say, by the fact that along it our Lord journeyed, as by his glorious parable of the Good Samaritan, in which the religion of charily, and bis own universal love to his " neighbour," are so grandly illustrated. The descent from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea is, as the reader knows, a half greatei than thai from Jerusalem to the Mediter- ranean. In round numbers, il is twice L300 feel from Jerusalem to the Mediterranean, three times L300 from Jerusalem to the surface of the Dead Sea, and four times 1300 to the bottom ol the Dead Sea. We had thus,in the short Bpace, to make a descent of 39OO feet to the shon of the Dead Sea , , 4 EASTWARD. The pari of the descent immediately below Bethany is the steepest There is a path here of loose stones and smooth rock, which rapidly plunges into the head of the long valley. J here deemed it safe and prudent, both for man and beast, to dismount and lead my horse. It must have been up this steep our Saviour toiled, on his momentous journey from Jericho to Bethany. And to the summil of this ascent, or possibly from it. gazing along the windings of the glen, must Martha and Mary have turned their longing and expectant gaze for the coming of the Saviour to heal their brother Lazarus. Up this road the wondering crowd had accompanied Him from Jericho, with one joyful man among them, the blind beggar Bartimeus, who, having received his sight, beheld with a greater sense of novelty and wonder, than any traveller before or since, those wild scaurs and rocky uplands — unless indeed his eyes were fixed on one object only, Jesus, the Son of David, w ho had mercy on him. On reaching the bottom of tins rapid descent, and passing a well and the ruins of an old khan, our road ran right along the bottom of the valley. It was a bare, bleak, dry, limestone hit of scenery, but not tamer or more uninteresting than many places which I have traversed, even in Scotland. But after a few miles, when we got entangled among broken uplands and deep gorges, lonely, wild, and dreary in the extreme, things began to have a wilderness and Dead-Sea look. We rested at a spot well known to every traveller, near an old inn or khan now in ruins, which was famous as a sort of rendezvous tor brigands, and where Sir Francis Eenneker was robbed and wounded forty years ago. We did not, however, even catch a glimpse of man or hoy prowling near. Was this the "inn" alluded to by the Saviour, to which the good Samaritan is represented as bringing the suffering stranger? It lli;iV have been some well-known spot like this, the parable gaining, to those who heard it. more vividness and reality by a heal allu- sion. 1 may mention here, that, strange to say, this was the only THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF J Kk U SALEM. part of our journey in Palestine where we saw anj 3ign of cruelty. Two Arabs going to Jericho were driving before them a miserable skeleton-looking horse with a knee hideously diseased. The brute could hardly touch the ground with its agonised limb, bu1 ev< r and anon il did so, leaving spots of blood on the road. It was vain to expostulate with its drivers ; so for the sake of our own feelings, ;is well as for the sake of the wretched creature, we resolved to purchase it and shool it. The skin alone, we thought, could be of any value to its owners; and our dragoman agreed thai our offer of LOO piastres, about 11., was therefore a handsome price. Bui it was indignantly refused, and loot) piastres demanded! And so the brute was driven on, a1 a rate too, which, fortunately for us a1 least, enabled it to get so far ahead thai we losl sighl of it. An- other act, equally out of harmony with the spirit of the good Samaritan, was perpetrated l>y our escort. They seized a lamb from a flock and drove it on before them. We expostulated ae earnestly as did its owner, but the deed was justified by the chief-, on some principle of black-mail which in their opinion mad< the claim a right, though we more than suspected it to be a robbery. So much for the unloving spirit still seen on the way from Jericho to Jerusalem. Soon after passing the old khan, we entered a narrow path full of interest. Immediately below us, to the left, was a deep . that cut its way through bare rocky precipices, between which, 500 feet down, a fresh full mountain-stream rushed along to the plain of the Jordan. This was the Wady Kelt, and in all proba- bility the brook Cherith where Elijah was supported during the famine. And here, as if confirming the conjecture, we n. many ravens, and heard their hoarse croak echoing from the wild piecipices. We saw remains of old aqueducts, and other build- ings. The precipices were also dotted here and there with, cave- like holes, the first mementoes we had seen of the old hermits who once lived heir, like grej bats, nourishing their strange 196 EASTWARD. religious life. Remains of old chapels, in which they had worshipped and had cauglrl s 1 glimpses of a higher life and ot' a better country, were visible on the heights. On and down we went, winding through this arid waste, until at last we saw the plain of Jericho stretching below us, dotted with verdure produced by the mountain springs, ami stretching, a grey flat with patches of wood here and there, until its bare shore-like surface was fringed, ten miles off, by the line of vege- tation shading the unseen and deep bed of the Jordan. Beyond the Jmdan rose the grand ridge of Moab, and to the right appeared the northern bay of the Dead Sea. Down, down, we crept, always thinking we would in a few minutes reach the lowest level, but always finding a lower still. But every lane has a turning, and so had ours ; and right glad were we when it turned to the left, as © © the shades of evening were drawing over us, and we saw our white tents, pitched where those of many a thankful and weary traveller had been pitched before, under the Quarantania, and near the Ain es Sultan, or Fountain of Elisha. Oh, what a blessed sight arc those tents ! What a paradise do they appear to a weary man after a day's ride, when everything is hot, from the sky above to the earth beneath, and to the very waters under the earth. Your horse begins to neigh, and to pace along with cocked cars, the prospect of fodder being as cheering to him as Mohammed's dinner is to us. And then, after ablutions, how delightful to lean down on the camp bed; and after dinner and pleasant friendly talk about the sights and adventures ot' the day, to go out in tie' cool night, with the world of stars all twinkling in the unsurpassed sky of this low region; to catch picturesque glimpses of the Arabs in the dim light around their fires; to hear the awful stillness of the silent land: and then to sl< ep, as motionless as a desert stone ! But before falling into this unconscious state, we here exhibited a few fireworks which we had brought from London (cockney THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF [ERUSA LEM. 197 fashion) for the purpose of amusing the .\ 1.1 1 > -, or maybe with the innocenl hope of awing the desert tribes by a revelation of wonder and power. The musical snuff-box was our opus magnv/m* bu1 the Roman candles were our most imposing spectacle. J had the honour, as the Hakeem Pasha, of letting them off in the presence of what the newspapers would describe as an "attentive and admiring audience." They shot aloft w it] 1 great success, and " fortunately no accident occurred." Our Arabs were delighted, even Meeki smiled, and condescendingly manifested a sense of agreeable surprise. Had any robbers been prowling aboul the plain Looking for plunder, it is more than likely, as we afterwards concluded, that our fireworks, instead of frightening them away, would rather have attracted them to our tents. We gave our escort a, homely supper of rice mixed with various ingredients prepared by the cook. They eagerly seized the food with their fingers, dexterously moulded it, and chucked it into their mouths, as they squatted round the large dish placid in the centre of their circle. In return they danced one of their dances, if dance it could be called where the body and aoi the fool move I. Twelve of them formed a line, while their chief with drawn sword stood facing them. They then began with a low monotonous chant, or rather howl, to move backwards and forwards, while he moved, and swayed, and ducked, making fantastic movements with his swoid. And so on it went, utterly unintelligible to us. It had, of course, a meaning, to one able and Learned enough to * Since mentioning, in a previous section, the grand occasion on which we brought high-class music in our snuff-bos bo the Gibeonites, I have beard with great pleasure thai tin- Marquis of 1'. — .when he encamped on the same spot this spring, was with applications fur a display of Eakeem Pasha's art I Our dragoman Hadji Ali being with him, tin- mystery of these applications was soon explained. [n olden time the box would have been il ocasion of rearing a fane to Pan or Apollo. Iiut unless some other travellers a 1 follow our example, we fear the ( choes will die out. , 9 8 EASTWARD. appreciate it; but to us ir had uone, and sundry attempts od Eadji Ali's pari to make it plain, only served to convince us that he, too, knew aothing aboul it. So we were glad when it ceased, and we could retire to our tents without giving offence. These men, let us record it. in spite of their singular abstemiousness and "total abstinence "—or because of these, as "the League" would say— underwent a wonderful amount of physical endurance. During our journey they hunted partridges (which they fired at only when the birds sat) and gazelles along the whole road— now running down the valleys, and again rushing to the tops of the rocks with unwearied perseverance and activity. They managed to kill a gazelle and a brace of partridges, which we bought from them. Yet at the end of their day's journey, which they had made double by their exertions, they challenged us to race them ; and for about two hundred yard- they kept up with our horses urged to their highest speed, which, however, it must be admitted, was uot equal to the Derby stride. I remembered, while seeing them, the fact of Elijah running before the chariot of Ahab from Carmel to Jezreel. His was uot, after all, such a feat of physical strength, considering the state of the roads, and the probably somewhat slow driving of the king, as was that of our Arabs. Next morning we enjoyed a view of the cliffs of Quarantania, which we had examined rapidly the evening before. The high pyramidal precipice was honeycombed with hermits' cells. A ruined chapel was on the summit. We were afterwards informed by .-in English clergvman, who. with great difficulty and no small danger (owing to the destruction of portions of the narrow footpaths), had examined them by help of ropes, guides, and cool climbing, that there were interesting remains of Byzantine frescoes in the chapels, still fresh and vivid in their colours. They had, however, no interest a- works of art. hut only as ecclesiastical remains of a Btrange and interesting episode in the history of religion. It is strange indeed to think of the world of thought, politic and opinions, which interested those hermits, as they crept from cavern to cavern, or sat in groups on their limestone seats gazing from their rocks of sure defence, over the plain, mi to the Dead Sea, and wild hills beyond. There some of them lived, no doubt, their fourscore years or more, talking aboul the Greek Fathers, ami the persecution of the Arians, and worshipping, amidsl the awful silence of the hills, with the stars and ( rod above, and scenes of desolation and death below; until they died, and were Laid beside old friends in a dark cave. Yet our union with these old and gnarled specimens of mortality, in so far as they held com- munion with the same Fathei and through the same Saviour, is more real than we can have with any others on earth who are without God and Christ in the world. We started at early morn for the Jordan and Dead Sea. Tin- day promised to be hot, if indeed a cool one was ever known at the bottom of this singular hollow since the day it was tunned by its restless and hot parents, the earthquake and volcano. After visiting the Ain es Sultan, and rejoicing in the delicious though not very cool water springing from its limestone cave, we gazed on the great mounds mi every side, speculating in vain on their relation to ancient Jericho. It is probable thai the firsl Jericho was here, and that the -Jericho of the Gospels was near the spot win-re the mountain road we had traversed de- bouched into the plain. The so-called Jericho is m< dern, and max possibly mark the site of Gilgal. We struck across the plain to the -Jordan. We pushed through a tangled wilderness of low trees, and passed Jericho, thai capital of rascaldom, robbery, poverty, and vice, and soon began to pace over the bare flal of the Ghor. What a glorious plain that mighl be made, producing, as it could do, in full luxuriance, all the pro- ducts of the tropics : The soil is excellenl ; the water at command ahundaiit : yet all is a dreary waste. Bui could capital he applied EASTWARD. to distribute the springs of the Kelt, Ain es Sultan, and El-Duk over the soil; could a few Armstrong ^uns be placed in round towers to defend the fords of the Jordan, to sweep the plain, and stop the incursions of the Bedouin, there is no doubt the Ghor would again become a paradise. The sun was already getting lint, and the Jordan seemed to be farther and farther away. We passed in succession, and after considerable intervals, three steep beaches, leading down from a higher to a lower level, and each marking a former shore of the river. These shores may have been occupied for a long period, but more probably only during- inundations, and when the Jordan flowed at higher levels. It was not until Ave descended the fourth beach that we reached the narrow plain through which it now flows. There its muddy and rapid waters rushed in eddying circles like those of a glacier stream, between tangled brushwood of various hinds, and trees, and tall reeds that heat their feathered heads in the quiet air, there being no wind to shake them. On the other side, perpendicular banks of white clay, with the v<\<^' of a higher hank appearing beyond, hemmed the water in. It did not seem more than one hundred feet broad. Some of our party and the Arabs bathed in it. I deferred that duty, chiefly from fear of being swept off by the stream, until we reached the Dead Sea. The Aral is revealed a very simple toilette, consisting merely of a long shirt, and a cotton or camel's hair dressing-gown. We lingered some time on the bank of the river, cutting walking-sticks for m< mentoes, and also some bulrush-heads — an innocent amusement verily, and affording a striking enough con- trast to boar-hunting and other " manly sports." One or two of our party bad tin cases provided in which to cany home some of the water ; hut 1 was. alas ! too prosaic to take the trouble, having no wish to baptize any child in holier water than that which springs up unpolluted among our own beautiful hills. A- we rode towards the Dead Sea, and turned away for ever THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 201 from (he Jordan, I began to recall all the grand events associated with the river and the plain through which if flowed. Somewhere beyond and above us was Pisgah,* from which that -rand man, the Saint Paul of the old dispensation, saw revealed for the first time the vision of his life — the land on which he was not to tread until he appeared on it in glory along with the Messiah of whom lie had testified. The Jordan was full of memories, dating from the famous day when the ark stayed its waters, and the armies of Israel defiled before it after their long wilderness journey into the Holy Land of Promise — Caleb and Joshua alone connecting them with Egypt — downwards through the times of Elijah and Elisha, Naaman the Syrian, and John the Baptist, until the Lord Himself was consecrated in its waters for the public work of his ministry. Behind us was Jericho, associated with the victories of Joshua, the school of the Prophets, the healing miracles of Jesus ; — and holy Gilgal, also long the seat of worship before the Tabernacle was pitched at Shiloh, and the place where Samuel and Saul and David and the ancient Church had prayed, and offered sacrifices, and sung their songs of praise. How desolate and dreary is all this scene now ! It is the haunt of brigands, and the home of a few poor debased pea -ants. The great forests of palm-trees which tilled the plain for miles tog< ther, with the fields of sugar-cane, have all disappeared, and tangled thickets of valueless trees and shrubs alone remain. The granaries of corn which could feed the armies of Israel, enabling them to dispense with the manna, have perished : while but a few patches of cultivation are left to testify of the former fertility. Desolation * It is difficult, if unt impossible, to discover any point higher than another in the skyline of the riil^v which runs parallel to the Jordan, and north of the !»■ ad Sea. Mount Who cannot therefore be identified. Bui this famous point is believed to be the high ridge which risen a little to the east and south of where the Jordan enters the Dead Sea, and whirh. lying ov< ' against .1. richo, must from its position command the whole of I'alr.-tino. I) D LAS [WAR I). everywhere, and the stones of emptiness 1 The very sites of Jericho and Gilgal are uncertain, and wild beasts or wilder men mam where Huly Prophets taught, where the Baptist preached, and where the Sun of God performed his miracles of Love and power. When we reached the shore of the Dead Sea, we all gazed in silence on the scene before us. What were our firsl impressions? Putting aside the associations of God's anger and righteous judg- ment which are irresistibly suggested by all we know of those degraded races who dwelt somewhere on its borders or on spots where its waters rest, the scene was decidedly pleasing. True, it is nut picturesque. The want of life on this part of its waters makes it dull and uninteresting, without, however, giving it the dreary look of many a Highland loch — such, for example, as that darkest and most barren of all I have ever seen, C-Oruisg in Skye. Nor is the mountain range of its shores apparently " bleak and blasted," like the sides of a volcano, but, generally speaking, is clothed with what looks like herbage, though it may be but low^ shrubs; while several beautiful and luxuriant wadies debouch on its shores. And then there was a delicious breeze blowing over it, sending fresh-looking tiny waves to the shore ; and the water was so marvellously clear and transparent, and we were so hot and deliquescent, that an ablution was anticipated with peculiar plea- sure. It is an error to suppose that there is actually no life of plant or animal possible within the influence of its so-called noxious vapours. Plants do grow on its border; and further south, birds are seen not only flying over it but swimming or wading in its waters. No fish have as yet been discovered in it; and this no one who touches its waters will be surprised at, assuming that fish have tastes like men ! But one must draw upon fancy more than on what is seen by the eye to make the Dead Sea so very dreadful as it is generally supposed to be. We bathed of course, and the experiences gained thereby are Bucb as its waters alone afford. Every one knows what a horrid THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JER1 s.\ I.I.M. taste it has. No mixture of vinegar, alum, and sulphur, or any similar com pound which would fret the skin and pucker the tongue, can give any idea of it. One must taste the deceptive liquid, so clear and beautiful, yet so vile and nauseous, in order to appreciate its composition ; and must let his lips, cracked and blistered with the sun, and his face, punctured with mosquitoes and other insects, be touched by this limpid wash, before be can estimate it- energy. Its buoyancy is also well known, hut one must swim through its heavy waters to realise the novel sensation of being unable to sink. 'Jdie first attempt to swim never fails to produce shouts of Laughter, — a dangerous levity, as giving admission to the water by the lips. The moment we breast its waves, we are astonished to find our feel fly up to the surface, and all our old ideas of equilibrium vanish. The most comfortable attitude is either floating on the back, or sitting in the water with a gentle movement of the hands to balance our water-seat ; and then the ease, quiet, and composure with which our object can be accomplished, inaugurates a new idea in aquatics. Some travellers tell us that they have dived, or at- tempted to dive into these depths. The very idea would have terrified me ! I felt uneasy once when losing connection with terra firma, and had a vision of a depth of possibly 1300 feet, near it' uol beneath me. Might not the edge of the abyss he hut ;i few yards off? And the idea of hanging over such a precipice, with who knows what below, was enough to make one look to the pebbles al his feet for comfort. JVsides, I did not see how anybody with only hands for paddles, and without the help of a screw, could ever force his way through those leaden depths. It may pain some solemn critics to know thai we very frequently broke the silence of the Dead Sea by shouts of merriment Bui the fact musl nevertheless be confessed, — though we are in some quarters given to understand, thai whatever coloured garments a clergyman may wear in Palestine, he is always to write as one who travels in gown and hands. We enjoyed our bath exceedingly, fell much 204 EASTWARD. refreshed by it. and did not find the pungent effect of the water on the skin peculiarly disagreeable. We made no exploration of the shores. Our expedition had not an atom of science in it, here or elsewhere. We lefi such work, m>t without feelings of envy and admiration, to explorers like the Due de Luynes, who had started m day or two before, as we were tol,|, in his steamer, and Mr. Tristram, who has since added a truly valuable and pleasing contribution to scientific books on Palestine.* We started now for Mar Saba. It was our original intention to have approached the Dead Sea from Mar Saba by the Ras-el- Feskah. But we were told that the district was rather disturbed, and that Ave might have some trouble in that route. This may have been an exaggeration, but our time was too limited to admit of unnecessary delays. There can be no doubt, however, that this is the point from which travellers should first behold the famous lake. In riding along its shore before ascending the hills, we were struck by the appearance of an island near its western end. 1 remarked how strange it was that no such island was noted in any map. " It must be mirage," we said. Yet surely no mirage could create an island so clear and well defined as that ! But being on our guard against deception, we rejected the evidence of sense, and fell back on faith in the map. There was no island ; but had there been one it could not have been more distinct. The ride to .Mar Saba was long and tedious. We were,I think, about clown hours on horseback from the time we left Ain es Sultan until we reached the monastery. Travellers in the East * In the engraving, a narrow tongue is seen entering the Dead Sea to the right. My friend .Mr. Reichardt of the Church .Missionary Society, a resident lor some years in Jerusalem, told me that more than once ho had visit 1 this point, and had seen remain- of ancient ruins upon it, which lie was inclined to think ed i" a n mote period. THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. will smile ai this. But I did no1 smile, excepj grimly. I n was exposed^ except once in the far West, to such oppressive beat, ;m ,l we had qo shelter of any kind. Bui I bad fortunately a noble horse, which ami. led along with a brave unfaltering step. I wish he could have known how much I pitied bim, and how fully I appreciated the unselfish manner in which be did bis work. The scenery was altogether different from anything I bad ever seen in my life or ever expeel to see again. [1 realised all thai ,. :m be imagined of a dry and parched Land. We did aol meel a human being. The silence was broken only, as I rode alone ahead, by the beat of the horse's hoofe and bis strong breathing under the sweltering heat. A glare of Light streamed from earth and sky. We crossed dry plains, and ascended along the narrow path which zigzags up and up to the summit of the ridg< I ry- where desolation, as if the fire of heaven had scorched the rocks, and ten thousand furious torrents had denuded the valleys, and left great white mounds and peaks of clay and limestone, like a series of gigantic cones, along the hill-sides. I have no distinct ideas of the journey beyond impressions of heat, glare, and dreari- ness, of bare rocks, narrow paths, deep ravines, valleys bare and wild as might be seen in the depths of an ocean along which icebergs had ploughed their way, tossing down hills of debris, to be moulded into fantastic forms by the roaring tides or whirl] Is. More definite pictures my memory does not retain. That one day of life in the wilderness quite satisfied my fancy. Bu1 my memory does retain with more distinct clearness the satisfaction which I experienced when aboul sunsel we went pacing along the edge of the Kidron gorge, and know that Mar Saba was near. The approach to this famous old place is along one of the mosl picturesque paths in Palestine, or indeed in any country. The Kidron, with the help no doubt ^( earthquakes, has cut for itself during long ages a tortuous course several hundred feel deep. The rocks which rise from its bed in sheer precipices are so close :o6 1 A.STWARD. at the top that a one-arched bridge could span them. This deep ravine winds along like a huge railway cutting until it reaches the Monastery. That wonderful building, the hospice of pilgrims during many centuries, had its origin with the hermits — tradition says to the number of 15,000— who once soughl refuge from perse- cution in this place of solitude and defence. The precipices are full of caves. These were enlarged, and fashioned, by the aid of walls closing up apertures and connecting jutting strata, into something like houses, or cells rather, by the anchorites. One abode communicated with another, a hundred feet below or above it, by narrow paths and tortuous holes, such as a fox might creep through with caution ; and there they lived— God alone, who feeds the wild beasts of the desert, knows how !— on herbs and water, nourishing skeleton bodies containing strange minds, whose ideas belonged to a world of thought we know not of. And there thev prayed, and starved themselves, and held a sort of com- munion with each other, until one cannot conceive of them as being other than monomaniacs possessed of oddest thoughts of God and man — of the world present and of the world to come — thoughts which now, I doubt not, seem stranger to themselves than to any on earth who survive them. But how can I give an idea of the convent ? Well, imagine a cell scooped out between the ledges of those rocks, then several others near it, ami then a cave enlarged into a chapel, and this chapel becoming the parish church of the wild glen, and being surrounded by other cells and houses buill on this ledge of rock and others below on another ledge readied by stairs, and others on story below story, and so down the face of the precipice, cells mid chapels and houses being multiplied, until from the ridge above to the stream belo^ a beehive has been formed, which is finallv defended by high walls and two strong towers: — if you can fancy this hanging nest of bees and drones, you have an idea of M;,r Saba. 1 1 s walls protect it from the incursions of the THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM. 207 Bedouin. It is a haven of repose in the wilderness to every pilgrim. It can accommodate hundreds in its endless honey- combs; and is the beau ideal of a monastery, such as one reads about in tales of the Crusades and of the middle ages. To enter it the traveller requires a Letter of introduction from the ecclesiastical superior of the monks at Jerusalem. This we had obtained. A basket to receive it was lowered from of the high towers by a dot representing a monk. This form is always gone through, and <»nly when the letter is read, and no1 till then, is the gate opened to pilgrim or traveller. The poor shrivelled, dried-up, and half-starved monks were very civil, giving lis coffee and wine in a comfortable refectory. Those who can converse with them say that they are very stupid and ignorant. Yel the place seemed to be a very paradise for study, with its repose, wild scenery, solitude, and antiquity. We saw of course all the sights —such as the skulls of 10,000 martyrs. Oh, for the brain and eyes, for a few minutes only, of one of these, to feel as he felt, and to see as he saw ! The wish could not be gratified; and so the skulls taught us nothing which other skulls could not impart. We encamped outside the monastery. It was a glorious night When all were asleep, I left the tent to enjoy it, and also, Let uu- add, to get some water to drink. The moonlight, the cool air, the deep shadows of the rocks, the silent towers shining in the moon- light, and the dreams of the past, made the hour delightful. Hut a°pr° wlin g jackal. fox > or wolf— for there are many of each kind in the neighbourhood— induced me to return to my tent, and to forget Mar Saba for a, time in sleep. We had a short ride next day to Jerusalem up the K-dro.i Valley. This is beyond doubt the Bnesl approach 1- the city, which fro,,, it has an elevation and citadel-look afforded by no other point of riew ;— the wall and buildings of the Haram Area rising above the Valley of Jehoshaphat, as Been in the m, u ot "En-Rogel from the South." IX. A DAY'S HIDE SOUTH FROM JERUSALEM. There is one remarkable peculiarity in the Bible as a revelation of God's will to man — or rather of the many books which make up the one which we call the Bible, — that it is a record of his- torical events, extending over thousands of years, all of which occurred in many different places, but these principally situated within a very small territory. Accordingly there is hardly a hill or valley, stream or fountain, town or village in Palestine which lias not been the home of some person, or the scene of some event known and familiar to the Church of Christ. Every spol is consecrated by holy associations. And so in journeying through tin- land, we almost every hour visit some sacred locality. Thus, tor example, in one day's ride south from Jerusalem, after leaving the city by the old Jewish tower at the gate of Jaffa, we cross the plain of Rephadim, pass close to the tomb of Rachel, visit Bethle- hem, drink at the pools of Solomon, stand on the plain of Mamie and by the well of Abraham, wind among the vineyards of Eshcol, and end with Hebron. This was our day's ride, and let me tell the reader something of what we saw in so brief a journey. As to the general asped of the country, it is beyond doubt the least picturesque in Palestine, and, apart from associations, does not possess any attractive feature. The hills which cluster over this upland plateau, are like straw beehives, or rather, let me saw like those boys' tops, which are made to spin l»\ a string wound round them, — jpeeries as they are called iii Scotland, — but turned A DAY'S RIDE SOUTH FROM JERUSALEM. upside down, the grooves for the string representing the encircling ledges of the limestone strata, and the peg a ruined tower on the summit, [magine numbers of such hills placed side by side, with a narrow deep hollow between them filled with soil, their declivities a series of bare shelves of grey rock, the rough path worming its way round about, up and down, with here and there broader intervals of rial land, and here and there the hillsides covered with shrubs and dwarf oaks, and youwill have some idea of the nature f t he country between Jerusalem and Eebron. In some plac< asaboul Bethlehem, there are olive plantations, and signs of rapid improvement, with which my brother was much Btruck, as con- trasted with what he saw on his visit seven years ago. To me, the scene had a friendly and home look, for many part, of the stony road, with its break-down fences, reminded me of spots in a Highland parish, endeared by touching recollections of an early home; but the grander features of "the parish" could oot be traced in Southern Palestine. Yet it is obvious, as has been remarked by every traveller, that an industrious population could very soon transform these barren hills into terraces rich with "corn and wine." Were those limestone ledges once more pro- vided with walls, to prevenl the soil being washed down into the valley by the rain Boods, and were fresh soil carried up from the hollows, where it must lie fathoms deep, magnificenl crops would very soon be produced. It is well known also how soon the moisture of the climate would be affected by the restoration of the orchards. And when we remember the small quantity oi car- bonaceous food thai is required to maintain life in such a climate as Palestine, il is obvious that a population larger than thai oi Scotland, living as the Easterns do, could ho supported in" I ho 'tIm-iv was alwavsone redeeming feature of the road, and thai was "the glory of the grass." The.flowers gave colour and life to the path wbereverthej could grow. We came upon a large land :io EASTWARD. tortoise crawling among them, the only specimen we met with in Palestine. Rachel's Tomb was to me very touching. It was just where it should have been : — " They journeyed from Bethel, and there was bul a little way to come to Ephrah. And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrah, which is Bethlehem." That place of burial is an undying witness to the oneness of our human hearts and of our domestic sorrows from the beginning of the world. It is this fell unity of our race in soul and spirit, in spite of some differences in the body, whether it be in the shape of the Rachel's Tomb. fool or of the skull, which strengthens our faith in the possibility of eternal fellowship among all kindreds and nations and tongues. To Rachel, with her dying breath naming her boy "the child of sorrow," every parent's heart will respond through all time. We passed Bethlehem, 1 n it did not visit it until our return from Hebron. The pools of Solomon,* of which the picture will give * The« ] !b are three in number. The largest is 580 feet in length and 236 r .tin breadth. The smalleBi is 380 feet by L'i>7 feet. The depth is from 2 A DAY'S RIDE SOUTH FROM JERUSALEM. a better idea than any verbal description could 'I", are interesting as being unquestionably grand old "waterworks," worth) of a highly civilised age, and such as all the Turks pu1 together would never think of designing or executing 'nowadays. And the water is not surpassed by thai of the greal pool Loch Katrine which supplies Glasgow. The road during a pari of the waj is alongside the clay pipe which conveys the water to Bethlehem, ae il did formerly to Jerusalem ; and where there happens to be a break the fresh clear stream is seen gushing along as it did before the "works" wore repaired l>\ Pontius Pilate. Below the Pools is the Valley of Urtas, which, being watered bj them and other springs, looks Like an emerald-green river, of about two miles in length, and from LO t > 300 yards in breadth, flowing between high banks of barren limestone hills, and winding round their jutting promontories. Here were once the Gardens of Solo- mon, and no doubt these hills, now so hare, were once clothed with the trees and plants about which he " spake." It was probably with reference to his labours in this spot that he said :—" I made me great works ; I builded me bouses; 1 planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and orchards, and 1 planted trees in them of all kind of fruit : 1 made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees." And here an attempt is being made to introduce model gardens, where converted .lew- maj sup- port themselves by their own industry, instead of trusting to the charity which they are necessarily thrown upon when " put out of the synagogue." In this enterprise my much-respected friend Major C — - took a lively interest, as he does in all that is good, and became one of the proprietors, as did also Lad) Dufferin and His Royal Eighness Prince Alfred. We had coffee ami conver- sation at Bethlehem with the present superintendent of these gardens, old Mr. Meshallum, who appears to be a sincereg I man. It is dimcull to determine h<>w tar the benevolent experiment will succeed. It is not in a hopeful condition at present. 1 AST WARD. About two miles from Eebron we turned off to the left, to visit the ruins of an old church buili by Constantine round the stump ofa terebinth tree, "which, according to tradition, was Abraham's oak, and consequently marked the spol where be pitched his tent on the plain of Mamre, or "of the oak." The old stump had become an object of superstition, and attracted crowds, so the Emperor Constantine, to counteract this, and to turn the spot to "•nuil account, built a great Basilica around it. We found several feet ofthe walls ofthe church remaining, and we could easily trace the whole. Three tiers of stone remain at one side, some of the stones being upwards of 14- feet in Length. " If Abram," remarked one ofthe party, " had his tent near the oak. depend upon it he l lie Tree pointed out as Aural had a well also. Let us get inside the ruins and search.' There we found as do doubl other travellers have done, when they sought for it — a deep well, encased with stone, and having its edges deeply cul l>\ the ropes winch were wont to hoist the water- A DAY'S RIDE SOUTH FROM JERUSALEM. 215 buckets or skins. I bave no1 the slightest doubl thai this was the true Mamre, and thai it was close to this well thai the wondrous interview between A.braham and those senl to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, recorded in Genesis, took place. The scenery of the wady is dull and uninteresting in the extreme. Bui such an event as this sheds around it much of that holy light which more or less invests all Palestine. | feel square by 50 deep -. here be banged the assassins of Lshbosheth (2 Sam.iv. 4—12). There is another pool as ancient, but aol so Large questionably authentic is the cave of Machpelah, now covered by the famous mosque. The Prince of Wales, accompanied by Deao Stanley and other members of his suite, were the first Christian travellers who were permitted to enter it for centuries. Since their visit, Mr. Fergusson has been allowed ready admission ; and it i.s soon likely to bo as accessible as the E0I3 Mosques of Jeru- salem or Damascus, which until but as yesterday were also closed against all " infidels." Both Dr. Stanley and Mr. Fergusson have given full and in- teresting details of the interior of this hitherto mysterious building. To their accounts 1 must refer my readers. 1 ma\ state, bowevi 1 for the information of those who bave net access to their volumes, that there are no tombs to he seen in the mosque, but cenotaphs, or so-called tombs, on its floor, each a sort of monument to the famous patriarchs. But the cave itself in which their mummies are laid is beneath the floor of the mosque, and, so far as is yet known, has no entrance except by a small hole in the floor, which opens into darkness. If there is another entrance, it has nol been revealed by the Mohammedans even to the Prince of Wales. In that mysterious cave no doubt Abraham, [saac, and Jacob lie. What a spot of matchless interest ! There is no authentic tomb on earth like it. Nearly 4000 years ago, when e it h was young and history just beginning, here were buried persons with whose lives and characters we are st ill familiar, whose names God has deigned to associate with his own, as the " God of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob ;" and whom Jesus has consecrated as guests at the greal marriage supper of the Lamb. It is strange indeed tor a Christian to be on tin spot where that one lies in whose seed all the families of earth have been Messed, and who is " the father of all who believe '. This is the only Spot en earth which attracts to it all wh.. pos- sess the one creed, " I believe in (led." The " Holy Sepulchre " in Jerusalem separates Rloslem, Jew, and Christian: here they 2 ,6 EASTWARD. assemble together. The Moslem guards this place as dear and holy. The Jew from every land draws near to it with reverence and love, and his kisses have left an impress on its stones. Chris- tians of every kindred, and tongue, and creed, visit the spot with a reverence equally affectionate. And who lies here I A great king or conqueror? a nun famous for bis genius or his learning? No; but an old shepherd who pitched his tent 4000 years ago among these lulls, a stranger and a pilgrim in tit*- land, and who was known only as el-Khulil, "The Friend." By that blessed name Abraham was known while lie lived; by that name he is remembered where ho lies buried ; and by that name the city is called after him. And it is when all men through faith become with him Friends of God, that all shall be blessed along with '• faithful Abraham." Praise be to God for such an immortality as this, whether possessed by us on earth or in heaven, through faith and love in ( 'hrist towards God, whose glory may be concealed from the wise and prudent, but is revealed to babes ! But we must now visit Bethlehem, where lie was born in the flesh who was vet before Abraham, whose day Abraham saw afar off and was glad, and in whom "the promise" was fulfilled to Abraham's spiritual sn^], more numerous verily than the stars of heaven ! Of all the places iii Southern Palestine associated with Scrip- ture History, Bethlehem is on the whole the most picturesque. The three cements attached to the ( ihurch of the Nativity, which crown the summit and the ridge on which the village is built, wear the massive and dignified look of an old mediaeval fortress. The terraces, which, like gigantic stairs, descend to the lower valleys and the small alluvial plains and cornfields, have a tine bold sweep, and are rich in olives and fruit trees, the shade and verdure of which relieve the eye from the dazzling glare of the white limestone rocks and soil. The hills around are higher, and more varied than those which border the upper plateau, the cone A DAY'S RIDE Sol' 111 FROM JERUSALEM. 217 of Jebel Fureidis breaking their otherwise tame outline, and the mountain ridge of Moab rising with its noble wall against the eastern horizon. The "sacred localities" of Bethlehem are .-ill Been under one roof. One can here pace along the oldest existing Christian church in the world. It was repaired by King Edward IV. of England; Baldwin was crowned in it: and it was buill centuries before by the mother of the first Christian emperor. It is a noble structure, though it has but scanty ecclesiastical furnish- ings. In spite, therefore, of its roof of English oak, and its grand rows of marble pillars, it Looks cold, bare, and unc for. It is possessed in common by the Greeks, Latins, and Ar- menians, whose chapels occupy the choir and transepts only, and whose respective convents, like competing places of business, are attached to its walls. The decayed state of its unoccupied D ave tempts one to ask whether catholic love really calls forth the same amount of self-sacrifice for the building and repair of churches, not to speak of other " religious " works, as sectarian zeal does. Beneath this old church, and reached by a number of Bteps cul out of the living rock, is the cave of the Nativity. Eere, sur- rounded by the usual amount of tinsel and tawdry ornament, lamps, altars, and incense, is a hollow recess, in which it is alleged the Saviour was born. It is possible that this tradition, which can unquestionably be traced to a very early period, probably the second century, is authentic. The fact of cattle being kepi in caves or grottoes, affording easy access and excellent shelter, is sufficiently common even now in Palestine to warrant US in admitting that this cave may have been used as a stable* But * A writer, in TheChristian Witness of last year, adduces some plausible reasons against the almost universally received opinion that the visil of tl"- Magiwaa made to Bethlehem ; and in favour of its being fco Nazareth. It appears Luke's narrative, that the Holy Family went from Jerusalem to Nazareth imme- diately after the presentation in the temple, or forty days after the birth of the child (Luke ii.i'i' -39). And Matthew informs cb that immediately after the visit 1 F 2 ,S EASTWARD. in spite of all probabilities in its favour, I could not associate the Incarnation and Nativity with what the eye saw here. The spectacle did not help my faith, or even harmonise with it, as did those scenes in nature, associated with the life of Jesus, which the priest has not yel attempted to improve. Bethlehem itself — its Lovely hills, its very air, with the blue sky over all. impressed me infinitely more. Close to the sacred cave is an historical spot of unquestioned authenticity. It is the small cell where Jerome lived and died, fourteen centuries ago, and where he composed the Vulgate, at least his version of it, and wrote treatises and letters enough to compete, in number, with those of John Calvin, or any other of those marvellous men who managed to attend to the affairs of Christendom, and at the same time to write whole libraries. The places in which such men lived give life to history. Their " local habitation " restores their personality, and gives substance to what might otherwise become a mere name I know not what Jerome would think of many of our modern controversies, in which his authority is claimed by each of the contending parties ; but it is a comfort to believe that when he lived he must have had fellowship with all who like himself delighted to realise the presence of Jesus, and to worship Him as God manifest in the flesh. And how much more must this be the case since he has gi me to glory. But it is not, of course, what one sees in Bethlehem which of the Magi they went to Egypt ( .Mutt. ii. II). It is true that Eerod directed the Magi bo go i" 1'.' bhlehem, and that they probably left Jerusalem with that inten- tion, but whether tin- Junta which tint star led them to was in Nazareth or Beth- lehem is not specified. 'I'ln time required l.y Herod to hear of the birth of the child ; to call the council of learned doctors to consult as to the place of His birth ; bo inquire diligently of tin- Magi as to the star; and then to order and complete massacre, would seem to demand more time than forty days. The. slaying of children whose maximum age was two years, would strengthen the idea thai some line had elapsed ere Herod made tip his mind to perpetrate this horrible <■""/' relations " far removed" it might be, yet strong in the ties of blood. David himself, first as the shepherd boy, and then as the brave chief seemed again " To walk in glory ami in joy, Following- liis sheep along the mountain side," himself guided by the Lord his Shepherd. And it must have been the water of that old well, which still sends forth its living stream, that David longed to drink of. But these and other memories are lost in the story of David's Sen, hern in Bethlehem, " the least of the thousands of Judah." The imagination gets bewildered in attempting to realise the facts connected with the Incarnation. They fill the heavens above and the earth below with their glory. We instinctively look up to the sky and then to the bills, and dream ofthenighl when the Angel of the Lord announced the birth of Jesus t<> the humble shepherds somewhere hereabout. < >n thai ridge? on those knolls? in that mountain recess? In vain we ask! YYh.it we do know is, that as the A un >ra Hashes aCl'OSS the midnight of the North, SO there once gleamed a heavenly hosl athwart this quiel sky, and EASTWARD. filled it with the Gloria vn eaxehis which gives the only true promise of the world's redemption from evil, and restoration to God's immortal kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy. We can never weary of the simple and sublime narrative: — "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel oi the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them : and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not : for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling- clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known to us." As we read of these things we ask with surprise, Did they actually happen here ? Is this Bethlehem ? Such questionings lead me to notice a thought which constantly forced itself upon me in Palestine. It was as to the altered impression which I would receive from the landscape through my rejection of the supernatural facts associated with it in Scripture History. Palestine, as the reader knows, is full of historical memories, which are not confined to any one spot, as for example to the capital, nor to one or two well-known or more favoured localities, but are scattered all over the land. Almost every town and village, every hill and stream, recall some Bible narrative of persons or events. And a great portion of these, to us the most momentous and important, belongs to the region of the super- natural, or the miraculous. For verily Heaven lay about the A DAN'S RIDE SOUTH FROM fERU SALEM. 221 infancy of the Church of God, which was cradled and nursed in this Holy Land. Angels ministered to its wants, guided it totter- ing steps, defended it from every foe, revealed toil visions of its future glory, and sang to ii songs <>f praise. Everywhere its tutors and governors had power given them to do works of wonder in the cause of truth and mercy. Take away this supernatural elemenl from Palestine, reduce everything to the mere patent facts of ordinary life, and it seeme tome like separating the glory of the illumined atmosphere and sky from the earth ; or like eliminating from man all thai belongs to him as an immortal being made after God's image, with .-ill the manifold mysteries which thai creation involves, and reducing him, by the aid of chemistry, into the carbon, silica, and other constituents which compose his material being, so thai be may be seen and handled, and his existence reconciled to science. When I was in Greece, and gazed on that brigh.1 and glorious land from the Acropolis of Athens, I felt there was no mingling of the natural with the supernatural. That land of philosophy and poesy had its myths, no doubt, and its beautiful romantic dreams. Its rivers, valleys, and mountains are resplendenl with the creations of the mind. These, like clouds illumined by the sun. brood over spots made for ever famous by heroic deeds, or by the teaching of great thinkers. Bu1 there is no difficulty felt in separating the prose from the poetry. This can lie done without violence to the religious convictions ot' the present, or fco the traditions of the past. The great men of old who created the myths, or transferred them from the religious faith of the peasanl into the poems or dramas which make them immortal, would he the first to smile at our credulity it' we seriously received their creations as facts. And the severest historical criticism would only bring our convictions into harmony with theirs. Bill it is different with Palestine. Its history and the supernatural are indissolubly hound together. He who would separate them, and EAST WAR D. deny the one as an elemenl of the other, would be himself denied 1,\ prophets, apostles, yea by Jesus Christ Greece without the supernatural remains the same to every man of learning and taste. Palestine without the supernatural fades into the Light of common day, and from being a holy land, becomes a body of death to the whole ( !hristian ( Ihurch. Another thought which forced itself upon me is the remarkable frequency with which the attempt to separate the natural from the supernatural would have to be made in Palestine. It would have to be repeated by the traveller almost every hour, and in every spot. He would have, for example, to strip Bethlehem of the whole story of the angels with their message and song. In Bethany it would be the same. The raising of Lazarus and the ascension of Christ would have to vanish beneath the rational rnasric wand. And as for Jerusalem, he would have to construct anew its whole history, including all the events in the life of Jesus — a task requiring at least a strong imagination and much patience. And so it would be throughout the whole land until he reached Tih( rias, where the process would have to be repeated on its waves, its shores, and in every ruined town which once rang with the praises of the great Healer and Restorer. Well, suppose all this done, and the supernatural wholly swept from off the landscape, is there nothing miraculous left behind? Is there no wonder in "a holy land" being so full of falsehoods, myths, and superstitions, albeit they are the creation of simple Loving hearts who did not intend to deceive, but had not sufficient culture to see that they were false? Is there no wonder in the fact that the holiest love of truth, and the greatest horror of falsehood in every shape and form, have been the invariable characteristics of those who believed in the Bible, and in the Christ of the Gospels, with all He is recorded to have said and done? Is there no wonder in men from all lands — some of them occupying " the foremost ranks of time' — coming to worship in "this mountain," still believing those supernatural events, and blessing God for them ' ts there uo wonder in the fact thai miraculous events ended with Chrisl and His Apostles, and thai since their day a debased, untruthful, and superstitious people have given birth to no marvels of any kind ? It is Vinet, I think, who has somewhere remarked thai Chris- tianity has a marvellous resurrective life, for though often slain and buried by its enemies, it ever rises again to live in human hearts. A remarkable contrasl is suggested al Bethlehem Let ween the strength of man and "the weakness of God." Thefirsl attempt to destroy Christianity in the person of Chrisl was her. made by King Berod, surnamed the Great. He was the type of irresistible human power, while the young child was the type of unresisting human weakness. But now Herod lies on the summil of Jebel Fureidis, or the Frank Mountain, which, like a huge monumental tumulus, towers above Bethlehem as if raised " in memoriam " of the massacre of the innocents; while the Child! — but who can describe what He has since become on earth and in heaven 1 Thus will all the enemies of Christ be one day put under His feet. 11 Before bidding farewell to Bethlehem and its sacred associations, I may describe a commonplace incident which befel us on our way from Hebron, as illustrative of the supposed danger to which travellers are subjected. Mr. M , one of Colonel M 's party, was riding along with me. We were far in the rear of the cavalcade, which, b\ the way, * A friend has directed my attention to the following allusion by Biacrobius (a writer of the early part of the Bfi h i i uiury) to Eerod : — '• Com audisset inter pueros quos in Syria ll< codes Rex Judaeorum, Intra bima- tum, jussdt interred, tilimn quoque ejus occisum ; ait melius est Eerodia porcum esse quam tilimn." " When i Augustus) had heard that among the children \\ horn Eeri id king of the Jews ordered to be put to death in Syria, under two year old, hi^ own boh t<><> had perished, he said, ' It is better to be Eerod'a pig than his son.'" Saturnalia, lib. ii. chap. iv. J24 EASTWARD. included our brave guard. Having abundance of time, we were leisurely chatting, and our steeds as leisurely walking, when all at once we saw six Arab-looking horsemen galloping towards us. They suddenly dismounted, and forthwith began to load their long guns. "Hollo! what dues this mean!" one of us exclaimed. Various suggestions were hazarded, the most unpleasant, but must probable, being that an attack was about to be made on our baggage, which was at this time behind us, and out of sight. At once the unknown horsemen charged right down upon us, we of course disdaining to show any signs of fear or flight, but gal- lantly preparing our pistols, notwithstanding our being minus both powder and shot. Two of the troopers dismounted and demanded backsheesh from me. I replied by shaking my head, and begging with a look of poverty, and an outstretched hand, the same favour from them. Their next demand was for powder — barud,! think was the word. In the meantime I had wound up my musical snufl-box, and invited the two highwaymen, as I understood them, to receive more peaceful ideas by permitting me to lay the box on their heads. The usual results followed. There were the delighted expressions of "Tayeeb! tayeeb !" — with the invariable exhibition of beautiful ivory teeth, framed in a most pleasant smile. And so we were allowed to depart in peace. We afterwards learned that the fierce robbers who thus spared our purses and our lives u' iv — a detachment of Turkish police! So much for the fears ami hairbreadth escapes of travellers. We returned from Bethlehem to Jerusalem. Is not that one days ride from Hebron to Jerusalem, via Bethlehem, enough to reward any traveller from England to Palestine, even though he should not take another? And yel it is quite possible to enjoy it, 'wind and weather permitting," in a fortnight after leaving London ! * That is liy taking tin- rtalian ami Adriatic route, and finding a steamer for Jaffa, on arriving at Alexandria. X. JERUSALEM TO SAMARIA, One other night in Jerusalem, and then we resu d our tent- life, journeying northward. Leaving Jerusalem by the Damascus Gate, we soon reached the low ridge of Scopus, whence we turned our horses' beads to take a last view of "the city of the Greal King." We gazed on the now familiar domes and minarets, the gentle swell of the Mxmnl of Olives rising above them like the roll of a greal sea wave. We felt as if taking our last look of a dead parent. It was difficull to tear ourselves away, feeling that we should, in all probability, see the beloved object no more. Yet there came undefined and im- palpable thoughts of a resurrection -gleams of a light beyond the grave — dim visions of a new Jerusalem better than the old - thoughts, not shaped into beliefs, of our living to see the land and its city yet connected with some evolution in the future history oi the Church. Bui we had to depart. So at last, with one intense gaze which 1 doubt not ended in the case of us all in heartfelt thanksgiving for having been permitted to see the city whose " very dust is dear." we resumed our journey . to \ isit other scenes linked with the holy men of old and the holy Son of God. The road to the north has little interest for the eye, until we get into the mountains of Ephraim. It runs along the Hat water- shed of the country, the valleys descending from it toward- the Jordan on the east, and the maritime plain on the west We passed Neby Samwil on the left, and Gibeah of Saul Tel-el-ful on the right We ascended this latter hill, or rather huge mound, EASTWARD. which has another mound so mar that a conversation can be held between persons on their respective summits, —both hills no doubt having been included in the old city. We thought of the tn-riblc story of the wayfarer who, journeying to Mount Ephraim, sought refuge here for the night — a story which reveals the night-side of social life during an anarchical period of Jewish history, and is one of those inarticulate cries «>ut of the depths for a king and deliverer from evil. Wo thought of Samuel and Saul, of I)avid and Jonathan, with the events which took place here and in the neighbouring valleys, including the battle of Michmash, three miles off, whose din reached the anxious watchers on this citadel We ] Kissed on to Birch, or Beeroth, where, according to tradi- tion, the parents of Jesus first missed their boy, as the small caravan gathered together for rest. They had up till then assumed that He was '•among kinsfolk and acquaintance," — a fact which reveals how like his curly social life was to our own. We also ooticed a peaked hill with a village on its summit, towering above a low range. It is the Orphan, or Ephraim, to which Jesus retired after the raising of Lazarus. We reached Bethel, but in that illustrious spot saw nothing with the (inter eye save stones of confusion and emptiness. Huge lime- stone blocks washed white with the rains, without any appearance of verdure among them, cover the hill-tops. Yet here, probably where the wretched cluster of huts now stands, with the rained tower rising among them, was once the Sanctuar}^ of God. Here the Patriarchs erected the earliest altars dedicated to His worship. lb re, too, was the sent of old idolatries, where the "golden calves" of Egypt were set up in opposition to the temple of Jerusalem, whose summit could have been seen from the spot, ;is the dome of the Mosque of Omar can be seen now. Here was that me- morable vision afforded to Jacob, which has been realised by the union of earth and heaven, men and angels, in the person of the Son of Man and the Son of God. I felt, as on former occasions, JERUSALEM hi SAMARIA. in no way disappointed with the presenl commonplace look of the scene of these glorious spiritual revelations. To me it Bhed a lighl of hope and joy into the abodes of poverty, glorifying humanity in the commonesl outward forms, and as existing in the commonesl places. "The stones of Venice "never inspired me with such hup,, for man as the stones of Bethel, which bad formed the pillow of Jacob. Soon after passing Bethel we entered the mountains of Ephraim. The whole character of the landscape suddenly changed. For the first tunc « in- journej there was scenery worth looking a< for its own sake. The hills assumed a bolder and more commanding form. There was more elbow room, so to speak, among them. There were high peaked hills, crowned with towers or ruins, and extensive groves of figs and olives; while a range of precipitous rocks with excavated tombs ran along a portion of our route. The road, however, was the worsl we had ye1 seen, if indeed the bed of a torrent can be called a road. It was tnosl difficull for our horses to keep their footing, as they cautiously felt their way through loose stones, and over muddy holes concealed by the stream. The pass through which we rode was one which few armies would attempt to force, if bravely defended. It terminated to the north in a -icon flat spot beneath a low wall of rocks, called, with greai propriety, "the Robbers' Fountain," or Ain-el-Hama- reyeh, and which all travellers avoid after sunset. One often wonders where the insolent, club-carrying, and backsheesh-asking rascals come from. For it is comparatively rare to see any villag - along the road, which apparently leads tor miles through solitude. But jus! as flies '>v vultures suddenly gather to any spol where food awaits them, so these Fellaheen, with dirty shirts, brown faces, keen eyes, white teeth, 1 >a re legs, and big shoes creep from behind rocks, or descend hill paths, armed with club or gun, as ii they lived in dens or caves of the earth. Needj scoundrels with had consciences and good clubs or lone guns can do much mi-chief EASTWARD. during a single night, in districts innocent of both magistrates and detectives. So we lefl the Robbers' Fountain with that prudence which is at once moral and agreeable, and reached our tents on the high grounds of Sinjil, after an easy and pleasant ride of seven «a- eight hours. The traveller, provided his horse be good, and himself able and willing, can roach Nablous in one day from Jerusalem. But wishing to take things quietly, and not as it carrying the mail, we broke the journey by encamping hero. As usual after ablutions and dinner, we rejoiced in the stars, for the weather was splendid; and we put a stop for a time to the incessant jabber of the Arabs, who came in crowds from the neighbouring village, by indulging them with music from our inexhaustible box, instead of backsheesh from our far from in- exhaustible purse. Early next daw we sighted Shiloh to the east, but did not ride up to it. though it was only half an hour off our route. There is nothing to see at this famous spot, although one is glad to pause and gaze upon it from the distance. Its situation is well pro- nounced as seen from the path we travelled. It is a round low hill at the end of a plain, and leaning on a more elevated range above it. There are no remains of any importance. All around is grey, bare, and barren. But it is interesting to see the place where that man of highest and purest character, Samuel, ministered as a boy. His was a childhood which has been blessed to the comfort of many a parent, as revealing both God's father- fa I as a teacher of bal.es, and the meek obedience which even a simple-hearted child may possess, and which (thank God) may be kept until old age! Here too ministered old Eli who, not- withstanding his piety and possession of a high mood of mind which made him tremble for the ark of God, is an everlasting warning to parents, against the soft-hearted selfishness which will not restrain a self-indulgent family. During many a long year the trib ss went up to the ark at Shiloh. But now all is silence, deso- 1 E RUSALEM I < > s.\ M A R I \. lation, and barrenness, with Qotbing to be een yel much to be Learned and remembered As vve advanced od our journey, the valleys expanded into broader plains, ami the paths became better ; the whole countn oi Ephraim evidencing a fertility and agricultural richness which cannol be found in the rocky fastnesses of Palestine nd all question it is the one at which our Saviour rested a- He jour- neyed along the route which travellers generally follow from Jeru- salem to Galilee. Every feature of the landscape starts into life as we read the narrative of Bis memorable conversation with the woman of Samaria : — the plain of cornfields which were then as now whitening to the harvest ; the mountain rising above, on which the Samaritan temple was built; the neighbouring town of She- ehem ; the Samaritans worshipping, as t he\ si ill d >, towards " this mountain," and there only; — all are evidence of its truth, aparl from the common and unbroken tradition. !30 EASTWARD. The well is not what we understand by that name. It is not a -priii;.; of water bubbling up from the earth, uor is it reached by an excavation. It is a shaft cur in the living rock, about nine feet in diameter, and now upwards of seventy feet deep. As an immense quantity of rubbish lias fallen into it, the original depth must have been much greater, probably twice what it is now. It was there- fore intended by its first engineer as a reservoir, rather than as a mean- ol reaching a spring. Then again, if any wall, as some suppose, once surrounded its mouth, on which the traveller could rest, it is now gone. The mouth is funnel shaped, and its sides are formed by the rubbish of old buildings, a church having once been erected over it. But we can descend this funnel, and enter a cave, as it were, a few feet below the surface, which is the remains of a small dome that once covered the mouth. Descending a few feel we perceive in the floor an aperture partly covered by a Hat stone, and leaving a sufficient space through which we can look into darkness. We sent a plumbline down into the water — with which the well certainly seemed to be abundantly supplied at the time of our visit. Many have been puzzled to account for Jacob's having dug such a well here, when the whole valley of Shechem, only a quarter of an hour's walk off, is more musical with streams than any other in Palestine. But some one dug the well, — and who more likely than Jacob, not only to have on his own property what was in his time mole valuable than a private coal mine would be to us; but also for the moral purpose of keeping his family and dependants as separate as possible from the depraved Shechemites I Why the woman of Samaria should have come here to draw water, SO far awa\ from the valley and its many springs, is a .11 which may be more difficult to answer. I cannot think it could have been because of the superior quality of the water, for no cistern could afford a purer, cooler, or better quality than that which gushes everywhere along the Valley of Nablous. It seems ERU SALEM fO SAM AR I A. to me that her motive was a superstitious one a motive p< rtain- ing to her conscience. It was to her "a holj well," such a frequented in [reland as places of Roman Catholic devotion, or rather superstition. She was restless, dissatisfied, and unhappy; burdened with a sense of wrongdoing, and thirsting after what she had never found. Thus her whole state of mind in coming here to draw water, and her attempt to assuage the thirsl oi her spirit for peace, would be an unconscious preparation for her r< ception <•(' the Saviour's teaching, which was so suited to reveal her plague and also to heal her of it. It is evident thai she was, consider- ing her circumstances, well informed as to Scripture facts; that she was interested in the "Church" questions of her place and time, and had much of that kind of "religious" feeling often possessed by persons of a susceptible and emotional temperament which, where principle is wanting, gives birth at once to a sen- suous superstition and a sensuous lite. But before evil habits have "petrified the feelings," there is a stage at which such persons are more easily impressed than others with less heart, though per- haps with more "respectability." How lone- will it be, we ask with eager longing, ere cl< i_\ and people shall truly possess the spirit expressed in these won " Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour com< th. when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship tli' Father. . . The hour cometh, and now i>, when the true wor- shippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketb such to worship him. God i- :i spirit : and they that worship him must worship him in Bpirit and in trutl * Once when abroad I heard an eloquenl bct □ preached by a dignitary "f the Christian Church, en this passage, in which In- ridiculed " Sectaries," who, being " but of yesterday," yet presumed to speak of "our fathers "as he and his brethren only could do. Hi' lament* '1 t In ir sin in daring t" worship on any oth< r mountain than "the true Jerusali m," hi- own < Ihurch i t' course : \\ here alone, by the use "f its appointed forms ami rituals. Cod could In- worshippi d in Bpirit and in truth '. 1 AS fWARD, This well is ind< ed a holy spot. ( roe is glad that the contending ecclesiastical parties in the land have built their churches on places which have little historical value, and that a merciful Providence has preserved untouched, and open to the eye of heaven, such spots as thai on the Mount of Olives "over against tin? Temple," and, above all, Jacob's WelL It is now said, however, thai the Greek Church have purchased it, as the site of a church, for 70,000 piastres. Universal Christendom, to which it belongs, should protest against such " pious" profanation. The two parallel ridges of Mount Gerizim and Ebal, as shown in the small map, abruptly terminate with their rounded masses ■ ■ ■■-,. UAL -**5>^ m '■- • JOSEPH'S TOMB ^ VALLEY OF NABLUS PLAIN NABLUS X^"'\ •WELL in the dead Hal plain. The Valley of Nablous h ;^\s to the plain as a narrow strait to an inland sea A mile and a-half up this valley lies the town, nestled amidst an exuberance of foliage —vines, figs, pomegranates, oranges, and every fruitful tree, all JERUSALEM TO SAMARIA. growing beside inexhaustible streams of living water. Nothing in Palestine surpasses the picturesqueness of this spol when L< al from any of the surrounding heights. Travellers bavi no doubl seen places elsewhere of greater beauty. Bui here, in the midsl of the white, bare, hoi bills and plains, it stands alone in its glon offruil and verdure, of running brooks and singing birds, Should any one penetrate these groves, however, he would find little of the art which helps Nature to produce thai ideal of the beautiful after which she struggles. The grass grows wild, the ground i- rough, while tangled shrubs and branches mingle with the tree* as in a long-neglected garden. Nablous, or Shechem, is to the I Christian traveller a standpoint for meditation, just as Hebron, Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Tib are. It was the earliest seat of the worship of the living God of which we have received any authentic information. To this plain of Moreh, or "the oak," Abraham first came from Padanaram, crossing the Jordan to the east, and ascending directly from it. k\ the head of the wady up which he musl have travelled, is a village now called Salem, or Salim, aboui two miles from Jacob's Well. It has been conjectured, with a high degree of probability, thai this, and not Jerusalem (which until centuries afterwards in David's time — had no importance attached to it. and is but once in Scrip- ture called Salem i was the place where Melchizedek dwell as the priest of the most high < rod, and where he me1 and blessed Abra- ham. If so, this would account for the mention ol " the oak." as being already known as the place where the worship of the true God had been established. It has moreover been maintained, with. to me, convincing argument, by Dr. Stanley, supported by Mi. Mills, that Mount Gerizim (on which Melchizedek may also have wor- shipped; was the scei f Abraham's intended sacrifice ol Isaac. It suits the geography of the country much better than Jeru- salem. Abraham could hardlj have taken three days in _ : 3 4 EASTWARD. from Beersheba to Jerusalem, as the whole distance is but thirty- six miles. Besides, there is no point in the journey, taking any ordinary route, from which he could have seen the presenl Temple area, or even the site of Jerusalem, " afar off." But it' he can if to Gerizini from the same starting-point, his journey would have been about sixty miles, which is nothing for an Arab traveller to accom- plish in three days, on the most common ass. inure especially if he rose " very early in the morning" of the first day. If, moreover, Abraham journeyed, as no doubt he did, along the maritime plain. Gerizim is so situated that it must have been seen "afar off" on the morning of the third day.* If to these associations connected with Shechem we add another, thai it was the residence of Jacob, who followed the steps of hi.s grandfather. — bought a parcel of ground, and dug a well, — we at once seethe reason why the place was known to Moses and the Israelites in Egypt as the only spot in Canaan solemnly consecrated from the earliest patriarchal times to the worship of God. It was for this reason, no doubt, that Moses commanded the children of Israel to assemble at Shechem. And we read accordingly that Joshua assembled them, when "all Israel, and their elders, and officers, and their judges, stood on this side the ark and on that side before the priests the LeviteS, which hare the ark of the i-<,\r- nant of the Lord, as well the stranger, as he that was horn among th' in : halt' of them over against .Mount Gerizim, and halt' of them over against mount Ebal; as Moses the servant of the Lord had commanded before, that they should bless the people of Israel. And afterward he read all the words of the law. the blessings and cursings, according to all that is written in the 1 k of the law. Tin re was not a word of all that Moses commanded, which Joshua * The argument against this view, from the name " Mi riah " being given to the site of tin- Temple, has no force, as it might havi been bestowed because of David's - vision." " Solomon began to build the houseof 1 1 1 * - Lord in the mount of Moriah (i e. " the app< arance of the Lord ") where E&appeared unto David Ins father." JERUSALEM fO SAMARIA. read not before .-ill the congregation ol [srael, w tth the worn* u, and the little ones, and the strangers thai were conversant among them." It is no! here said, as some imagine, that the summil of each mountain was occupied by the half of the great a embly. Butthey were "half of them se1 over against mount Gerizim, and half of them over against mount Ebal." Nor is it the case thai the w<»nls if read from the sides of the mountains would have been inaudible to the assembled people; for the experiment was actually made by Mr. Mills and a friend, who occupied places on the opposite hills, and read aloud the blessings and the ci each being distinctly heard by the other* Such an assembly as this of the united Church of God was never before witnessed, unless perhaps a1 Shiloh, when the taber- nacle was set up ; nor since then, unless when < Jurist's < ihurch met on the day of Pentecost. It was hero. io<>, that another event took place full of sacred and dramatic interest — the burial of Joseph. Nearly five hundred years before the assembling of the people by Joshua, Joseph, as a young shepherd lad, passed through this plain in search of hi> brethren. What a lite was his! J>ut his influence did uot end with his death. Though dead he was yet a silent but most impressive witness to the people of faith in God and in His promises. How strange a sight was that body embalmed for centuries, carried through the wilderness for forty years with the ark of God, and finally buried by thai vast assemblage, each one a blood relation, in the land of promise, and in the very field purchased by his lather! What memories must have gathered round his grave! Ho\n undying is the influence of faith, hope, and love! This is what we are told of that remarkable funeral : "And the bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out ot" Egypt, buried they in Shechem, in a parcel of ground \l ills' •• M We m s unaritans," p. •"■'•'. EASTWARD. which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor the father of Shechem for an hundred pieces of silver: and it became the inheritance of the children of Joseph." There is no reason to doubt that the tomb shown is really Joseph's. It remains, like that of his ancestors at Hebron, to witness again, it may be, in later ages mere even than now, to the truth of Bible history. But we must not forget the modern Samaritans, whoso existence invests Nablous with great interest. We pause and wonder as we realise the fact of a community, consisting of only about 150 souls, or forty families, living for nearly 3000 years separate from all other races on earth, with their own Pentateuch, ritual, sacrifices, and worship* and surviving all the changes and revolutions of Palestine and of the world. Here they are still, worshipping towards Mount Gerizim, having no fellowship with the Jews, keeping all the great festivals prescribed by Moses, and eating their Passover "on this mountain," the oldest spot for the worship of Jehovah on the face of the earth! Such a fact stands alone. This undying dogmatism puzzles historians; this race, so noble- looking, yet marrying only in their own small community, puzzles ethnographers, and creates in all feelings of wonder such as one might experience if in some distant land he came upon a hived of Mammoths, or Pterodactyles, which everywhere else were known only as fossils. To meet them here especially, at Jacob's Well, and under the same delusions as when Christ first preached to them and converted many of them, but adds to the wonder of a spectacle familiar to every traveller in Palestine. We ascended Gerizim. It is a rather tough bit of climbing. 1 assigned this alpine occupation to my horse, ami yet suffered sufficiently, after a day's ride, to sympathise with his patient hut See Appendix No. IV. painful labours. There is much to interest one on the mmi the scattered ruins; the massive remains of what some allej tave been the old Samaritan Temple, but whal others with I think greater probability, was a Roman fort. Then there is the unquestionable site of an old place of sacrifice; and the more questionable twelve stones which Joshua brought from the Jordan, but which it is uow dimcull even to number or to distinguish from the underlying strata There is also the trough where the paschal lamb is yel roasted, soi f whose burnl bones I gathered. And there is the magnificent vie\« over the plain across the valley of the Jordan eastward to the mountains bey I, and westward to the blue Mediterranean. We of course visited the famous Samaritan synagogue. Our approach to it seemed to us at the time to be by an exceptional way, though it is possibly the ordinary road to this ancient sanctuary. I cannot recall each turn and winding; but I have a confused impression of an endless succession of narrow lam s, low vaulted passages, and almost pitch-dark cavernous tunnels, through which we were led, until we reached a steep narrow stair leading to the roof of a house, from which we passed along to a court with an orange-tree growing in it, and thence into the small vaulted synagogue, the only place of worship of this ancient Church in the whole world. In all this we recognis< d precautions against sudden attacks, such as we had noticed in entering our lodgings at Hebron. The Samaritans professed to show us their old and famous copy Of the Pentateuch. This we knew was a pious fraud, but we did ttot take the trouble to contradict them, as a sight of the real one can only be obtained with great diflficulty, and would have simply gratified a vain curiosity in us. The old roll is of very high, but as yet unknown antiquity. Its p rs allege that it was written by the great-grandson of Aaron. The morning was glorious when we rode out ot Nablous, A Luxurious atmosphere hung ovei the gardens and subdued the sharp statuesque lines of the hills. A Turkish regiment, with strings of camels, was winding through the valley, — their band playing it- wild music, and giving to the whole scene a true touch of Eastern life and barbaric power. We were told that they were -.pin- away to keep in order seme restless ami tax-hating tribes to the south of Hebron. The ride from Nablous to Samaria is along a good bridle-path, with pleasanl scenery all the way, including a view of the upper part of the valley of Nablous, rich, as its lower portion, in abun- dance ofwater,and fruit and flowers. We passed many picturesque village strongholds, like eagles' or rather vultures' nests, built on commanding summits, and having fertile valleys and groves of Olives at their feeT. No "Id city in Palestine had a site so striking, so regal-looking, as the " hill of Samaria" It is a shapely hill, rising at the end of a fine valley, and moulded into a fitting platform for a greal temple. On all sides it is circled by noble terraces, which must have once borne splendid wreaths of vines and olives, furnishing wine and oil in abundance to its luxurious inhabitants. The summit of the hill is flat, and was evidently levelled for the site of the public buildings which occupied it from the days of Baal and Ahab, to those of Augustus and Herod.* Fifteen columns rear their solitary heads on this flat, though it is uncertain to what building they belonged, or tor what object they and their now fallen brethren were reared. It is when standing on this level that we can appreciate Omri's taste in making Samaria the site * It is ;i remarkable tact, familiar, I have no doubt, to antiquaries, that one of out Scottish periods or "terms" is .-till called Beltane-, which appears to be derived from Baal and thenna (pronounce chenna) the Celtic for fire. Upon this day. even now, bonfires arc lighted by tin- children in our villages, and pence Eor keeping them up. In many parts of the North cakes arc baked and :i ceremonies observed in connection with the day and it- bonfires. I IK ISA I.I \l ro SAMARIA. of his capital The surrounding lulls, plains and vail with every product of the soil. The Mediterranean is stretching its blue waters beyond the plain of Sharon; while its fresh breezes blow up the valleys and circulate .-ill around. And one can see how easily besieging armies would have l>een visible on the amphitheatre of bills which surround Samaria on three sides, and from whence the} could havi looked down into the streets of the suffering city and witnessed its even movement. Here there are very striking remains of a magnificenl colonnade, composed of two ranges of pillars about 50 feel apart, and which it is conjectured — from the length of the terrace on which the sixty pillars yet stand -must have extended for aboul 3000 It was probably the work of Berod, who adorned Si baste. There are also the ruins of a noble old church dedicated to St. John the Baptist. Few things are more sad than such ruins in Palestine, as they evidence a time when Christianity v. strong, and so hopeful of continued strength, that it built church - which shame most of those reared in later and richer timea Close to the church is an old reservoir, which max have been the pool in which Ahab washed his 1*1 ly chariot. But all Samaria is ruins, nothing but ruins: and never were words more true than those which we read aloud here: — "Therefore I will make Samaria as an heap of the field, and as plantings of a vineyard : and I will pour down the stones there,,)' into the valley, and I will discover the Foundations thi reof." The associations connected with the capital of Ephraim are very different from those suggested by the capital of Judah. They are all of abominable idolatries, cruel sieges, horrible famine-, full indeed of dramatic interest, but more full of lamentation and woe.* When God's prophets appear in Samaria, or -peak about it, it is hut to lament and denounce its impiety, vices, and crimes " Read, for example, I Kings w ; 2 Kings v\ 12 > 4 o EASTWARD. It was a powerful city, but "sensual, earthly, devilish." Ye that light of mercy and love which is in Chrisl for the chief of sinners, shone in the latter days on Samaria. When St. John — whose Boanerges 1 feelings were like the heaving waters of the deep ocean— desired fire from heaven to consume the Samaritans who refused to receive Jesus into one of their villages, the Lord rebuked him. ami said that He had cianc.ii.it to destroy men's lives, but to save them ; and simply turned aside to another village "Thou art a Samaritan'." was one of the accusations hurled against Him. So indeed He was! — hut in a deeper sense than Jew or Samaritan could understand. Verily as "a g I Samaritan," He healed His brethren, sorely wounded by the enemy of. soul and body ; and by His example and teaching broke down the wall of hate which separated Samaritan from Jew, showing that if salvation was i After Leaving Samaria we passed, al some distance to thi a gently swelling hill rising out of the plain, called Tell / Strange that the name of Dothan should Mill remain attached !•• this spot ! Must willingly should we have turned aside for an h. .in- to visit the place where thai st<>r\ of Joseph and his brethren began to unfold itself, which fur ages has been read with breath- less interest by the young child and the aged saint, and win re also that wondrous scene occurred l<>r the account of which I refer my readers to 2 Kings vi. 8—23. Bu1 we were prevented by thai want so common in ;i world where m< n's lives ar< shorl the wanl of time. It is worth noticing, however, thai the caravans from Gilead t.. Egypt still enter the hill country at Dothan, passing thence \<> the maritime plain by Gaza 1 have never heard thai the j.it int>> which Joseph was let down has been discovered. Hut it i- onlj a few years since the locality was identified; and no doubt our ignorance uf it and of many spots associated with caves, rocks, and other unchanged features of the country, would t" a larg be dispelled, if such a society as that which has been formi the exploration of Palestine were liberally encourag Our next halt was at Jenin the ancienl I * AYhy docs not this society appeal t" the provinoea ■■<• towns for Bupport? It would be sure to je! I • Leading members would only take tin' fcr< able t" ' i ■< the general ]iultlie. i i i+z EASTWARD. xxi. 29), and there, on a grassj field, with a sparkling stream of water rushing past, we pitched our tents. Unseen frogs, more Dumerous than could be accommodated in the grand orchestra of the Crystal Palace, croaked a concerl all nighl long. The village of Jenin ruse above us; bul we did not visit the dishonest and disorderly settlement, having been advised to give it what sailors call "a wide berth." We were a strong party, and showed our sense of security by adding to the brilliancy of the moon the lighl of a few Roman candles, whose loud reports and starry rays mpressed the Arabs with some respect for our power. So at hast we fondly believed, although it was as well that they did not put our strength to the proof. Jenin is on the edge of the great plain of Esdraelon, which we had to cross on our way to Nazareth. What a strange " Blue Book" of Turkish rule is this same plain of Esdraelon ! it is one of the most fertile in the world. It might present such a scene of peasanl prosperity, comfort, and happiness as could aot be sur- passed on earth. But instead of this it is a rough uninhabited common, and. hut for the bounty of Nature — which, with never- failing patience and charity, returns an hundred-fold whatever is here committed to the soil — it would be a dreary wilderness. 1 ' n fortunately there are beyond the Jordan a numerous and wide- spread race of scoundrels, who live in tents, gallop about on line hotses, brandish spears, tire long guns, tell lies, rob their neigh- bours, and possess no virtue under heaven thai is not serviceable to their greedy pockets or hungry stomachs. Romance they have none, unless it be the romance' of plunder. Their " Arabian Nights" are but nights of robbery. The Turkish government, el- even a London "Limited" Company possessing ordinary sense and enterprise, might, with a dozen titled cannon placed in com-; manding positions, keep these [shmaelites .-it bay, and defy them to 3teal we-t of the Jordan, lint as things are now managed, the Bedouin make a raid as ,-i matter of amusemenl or profit. They NAM ARIA rO I I I.I l swarm, like Locusts, from the Hauran, cover the great pi their black tents, feed their camels, gallop their boi crops, shoot the peasants, and then return to their lain beyond the Jordan, to crunch their marrow-bones at leisure, with none to molest them or make them afraid. Much is said about the power of a certain Agyhil Agha who reigns over the plain, and is employed as a sorl of detect the principle, I suppose, of setting one thief to catch another. Agha, from suspicion or jealousy, was at one time dismissed by the government of Constantinople, and another governor, 01 pasha, or detective, put in his place. But he attack* d the Turkish troops who were sent to seize him, and massacred about eight) o\ them. Having thus shown Ins talent and force of character to the satisfaction of the Sublime Porte, he was forthwith re-appointed police-officer of the district. Such is Turkish "government." There is no doubt, however, that Agyhil Agha is a powerful chief, and exercises much authority over the district, protecting < Ihristian and Moslem with even-handed justice, and being a great ten evil-doers from the Hauran. Travellers are therefore r< i ommended to obtain, for guide, counsellor, and friend, one of Agha's troop re, who, when paid reasonable black-mail, will secure the lives and property of those committed to his charge. Our worth) di man, Hadji Ali, did not, however, deem ii uecessary to adopt tin - precaution, although he expressed anxiety to see us safely acrosj the Pirate Gulf. Begging for my pistol, he loaded it, and gallantly went ahead as guard and scout* * Though we laughed at Hadji's fears, and put them down to a display or of excitement, yet I learn from .M de Pri BSena 'a a that our former fellow-traveller, the ex-Duke of M idena, was robl a few days after we crossed it I As a warning to travellers, I my pistol, which was sent home in a box from Beyrout, ■ the Custom-house officers at Liver] I, found to be loaded Sen it myself , and being ignorant of Eadji's having doni I think of examining it before it was packed. ^44 EASTWARD. We pushed od from Jenin towards Jezreel, which is about seven miles to the north. The low point on which Jezreel is situated runs into the plain of Esdraelon from the high ridge of Gilboa, dividing it into two unequal bays. Approaching Jezreel from the south, there is little apparent ascent, but the plateau on which it is built falls rapidly on the north side, by a descent of 200 feet or so, to the other portion of the plain, which lies between it and the range of the Little Hermon, or El Duhy, and which is railed the plain of Jezreel, though it is but a bay of Esdraelon. On or near the spot where Ahab's Palace is likely to have stood, is an ancient tower, built I know not when, nor by whom. We ascended to its upper story, and there, through three windows, opening to the east. west, and north, obtained excellent views of all the inter- esting portions of the surrounding landscape. Beneath us lay the famous plain — a rolling sea of verdure, yet lonely looking, and without inhabitants. Wo .saw no villages or huts dotting its sur- face—not even a solitary hois, •man. but only troops of gazelles galloping away into the distance, and some birds of prey, appa- rently vultures, wheeling in the sky, and doubtless looking out for work from their masters the Bedouin. This green prairie stivtches for upwards of twenty miles towards the Mediterranean. It i> the more striking from its contrast with the wild bare hills among which we had been travelling, and with those which look down immediately upon it. It separates the highlands of Southern Palestine from the hill country of the more lowland north, as the plain along which the railway pass,., from Lochlomond to Stirling separates the highlands of bob Roy from the lowland hills of the Campsie range that rise above the valley of the Clyde. This tower of Jezreel is another of those points of view which command a number of famous historical places, the sight of which, with their relative positions, gives great clearness and vividm - to the Bible narratives. Standing on the tower, we see, through the window looking northward, three or four miles off. SAMARIA I" ill.! the range of the Little Bern a fac simil ol th P near Edinburgh), with the village of Shunem on on< Through the eastern window the vie* is filled up l>\ th< i ridge of Gilboa. The western window opens to the plain . in tlic distance with the long ridge of Carmel, and other hill* bounding it to the 3outh, and the hills of Galilee to the i With map and Bible in band, lei us look through tl windows, ami sec how much of the pasl is recalled and by even one view in Palestine. Through the opening to the uorth, we see Shunem, where d the good Shunamite, whose little humbly-furnished ch the wall welcomed the great prophet "who ..ti passed bv ' tied way, and who must have been familiar therefore with ever} which now meets our gaze, as well as with many others that passed away. We see at a glance how the afflicted mother, with the thoughts of her dead child and of " the man of God" in her heart, would cross the plain to the range of < larmel, ten or I miles off. We also see how from its summit the Prophet would see her riding over the plain, and how he would have accomp her back again. And Shunem, with Gilboa (seen out of the eastern win recall two great battles familiar to us: — the battle of Gideon with the hordes of the Midianites who swarmed along the of Hermon, and the battle of Saul with the Philistines who occupied the same position. From Gilboa, Gideon with his selected army descended. Im mediately beneath it we can see the fountain gl< in burnished silver in the sun*s rays where doubtlefi separated the rash and the cowardh fV.-m his army. I » at night with his select hand from these rocky h< have passed the narrow valley which lav I Shunem. Then with three hundred lights suddcnl) and gleaming on every side, as if belonging 246 EASTWARD. with the piercing war-cry of "The Sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" he fell like a lightning-stroke on the sleeping and careless host, who, seized by a panic, fled in terror before the pursuing warriors, down the steep descenl to the funis of the Jordan. (in the same place, too, the hosl of the Philistines, which made Saul sore afraid, pitched their tents on the night before they attacked the king and his son on Gilboa. One sees how Saul must have then travelled to En-dor. It lies two hours off on the other side of Hermon. He must have gone round the right Hank of the enemy, crossing the shoulder of the hill to roach it. One of the most dreary spectacles of human misery was that journey to the foul den of the witch of En-dor: We see the tall form, bent like a pine-tree beneath the midnight storm, but every inch a king in spite of the disguise, enter the cave in darkness and bow down before the deceiving hag. How touching his longing to meet Samuel, who had known and loved him in his better days ; and his craving desire, however perverted, to obtain in his 1< neli- the sympathy of any spirit, whether alive or dead. And when he sees, or rather believes tha* the wicked impostor the form of his old friend, what a wail rises from his broken heart : — " I am sore distressed '. The Philistines make war against me, and God is departed from me, and answereth me by dreams no more ! " The only parallel to it is the picture given by Shake- speare of Richard the Third the night before he was slain: — ■■ I shall despair : tin re is no ereatun And if I die, no soul shall pity me." But Saul was loved by one whom his proud and eager ambition dragged down with himself on the bloody battle-field; and he was pitied by one who had ever reverenced his kingly head, and had dispelled the brooding darkness from his soul by the cunning SAMARIA I .. in minstrelsy of the harp. And th< ever invested those sterile hills of < lilboa wil incomparable lamenl for Saul and Jonathan Love which ii breathes for his old friend, and the • generosity, the godlike charity, which ii pours oul in his old enemy: — " Saul and Jonathan were pleasani in theii and in their death they were nol dh ided ! ' As it' to make the scene of tlmf battle-field still more complet the top of the hill of Beth-shaan (now called Beisan n- Dumbarton rock, close ander the hill of Gilboa, and the vnllcv of the Jordan. To the gates of it- citadel th< I Saul and his three sons were fastened, until removed by the I men of Jabesh-gilead* from the opposite side of th< J thus testified their remembrance of the time when Saul delivered them, thirty years before, from the Amorit But the interest and teaching of this old battle-plain an yet exhausted. As we look ou1 of the opposite window I the south and west, we see to the left ;i Ion- line of [ow hill which here and there send points into the plain, with bays and valleys between, and end al the > th ri Carmel. On the shore of one of those green b miles oft", we see Taanach, and four miles or so beyond M< past which "the waters of Megiddo" flow to join thi K Now it was from Tabor, which is concealed from u- of the Little Hermon, that Barak, al the instigation ol D marched about twelve miles across the plain from the i amidst a storm of wind and rain attacked the chariots the marshes of the Kishon, and gained thai I freed Israel from the terrible thraldom in whi< held by the heathen Canaanites. At Megiddo, too, the g I Josiah was kill< 1 in his * 1 Sain. xxxi. I I. 2 4 8 EASTWARD. foolish attempt to stay the progress of the king of Egypt when going to attack the Assj rians. Again we ootice from the same window, a few miles off in the plain, what looks like a ruin. It is El Fuleh, the remains of an old Crusaders' fortress, and famous as the scent' of the "battle of Mount Tabor," where a French force of 3000 men under EQeber, resisted in square, for six hours, a Turkish army of 30,000„half cavalry and half infantry. Then they were joined by Napoleon with fresh troops, and gained the battle. After all it was a fruitless victorj to the great commander, for Sir Sidney Smith checked his Eastern pi , (gress by the brave defence of Acre — another scene of battle almost belonging to the plain of Esdraelon. It is strange indeed to have thus connected in the same place, battles fought by Barak, Gideon, Saul, and Napoleon! It is probably from the fact of this place having been of old the great battle-field of Palestine, that in the book of Revelation it is made the S3 mbol of the mysterious conflict called "the battle of Armageddon" or " the city of Megiddo." And there are ether associations still suggested by the land- scape. The most tragic and dramatic histories in the Old Testa- ment are recalled by the place we stand on, and by Carmel in the distance. For on that height beyond Megiddo, and on a spot which with highest probability can be identified, the great Elijah met the prophets of Baal, in a terrible conflict, God himself testifying to Bis faithful servant, who apparently was a solitary witness foT His being and character. From that spot, twelve miles off, the prophet, home up by an ecstatic fervour at such a crisis in his own life and in the life of the nation, ran, amidst the storm of wind and rain, before the chariot of Ahab to this .Je/reel : — "It came to pass in the meanwhile, that the heaven was black with clouds and wind, and there was a greal rain. And Ahab rode, and went to Jezreel, And the hand of the Lord was on Elijah ; and he girded up bis loins, and ran before Ahab to the entrance of Jezreel." SAMARIA fO flBERI And to this Jezreel the same Elijah,after h by the murdert ss Jezebel, returni d from In n, journey through the wilderness to Eoreb. Wea man, bu1 strong in God, he came to s\&} Ahab and Ji the sword of his mouth for the murder of | i Nalxjtli the word of the Lord came to Elijah the Tishbite, go down to meet Ahab king of Israel, which is in S behold, he is in the vineyard of Nabotb, whither h( I" possess it. Ami thou shah speak unto him, saying Tli the Lord, Hast thou killed, and also taken po a? And shalt speak unto him, saying, Thus saith the Lord, In the | where dogs licked the blood of Naboth shall dogs lick thy l>l I. even thine. And Ahab said to Elijah, Has! thou found n mine enemy? And lie answered, I have found thee: because thou hast sold thyself to work evil in the sighl of the Lord." And here, too, where we stand, occurred all thai terrible and almost unequalled tragedy recorded in the 9th chapter of the 2nd Book of Kings, when Jehu was selected as a mosl willing instrument in God's Providence for executing judgment "ii an infamous family. The whole living scene of horror seems I before our eyes; — King Joram Living here with bis mother, Jezebel, while recovering from his wounds; — King Alia courtly but unprincipled, coming from Jerusalem to via I - 1 - — the sudden appearance of Jehu, driving furiously along the plain, from Jabesh-gilead, and easily seen Bix miles ofl . meeting of the kings with him in the vineyard of Nabotl bably near yonder fountain in the plain which had wat< poor man's garden of herbs; — the death of Joram; Ahaziah to Jenin, and then to Megiddo, where hi hurling of the wicked Jezebel ovA of the window, it paint and her hypocrisy, and her destruction by dogs, which does not pain me, bul indeed giv< - me •. tion— she was so vile! And then for the horrible hist EASTWARD. place is not over — the ghastly pile of seventy heads of the sons of Ahab slain at Samaria, and the subsequenl massacre of al] con- nected with the house and palace of Ahab. All these incidents are recalled from the tower of Jezreel as we gaze on tin- several places where they occurred, and they are restored with as much vividness as the field of Waterloo recalls the events of that greal battle. But Nature has resumed her quiet reigo over the hill of Jezreel. All is silent and desolate now ; Baal and his worshippers have passed away, and so have the calves of Bethel and of Dan, and the very memory of those events and their actions has departed from the land. Evil, like a fierce hurricane; always blows itself out; while good, like the sun, shines ever on from generation to generation. And so while Ahab and Jezebel have ceased to influence Hie world except as witnesses for God's righteous opposition to evil, Elijah, once alone and broken- hearted, and anxious to find a grave, lives in the heart of the Christian Church, as one transfigured with his Lord, and the type of every faithful brother. We were very thankful to have stood on this tower of Jezreel. It is a noble pivot for memory to turn upon. It made whole chapters of history much clearer to us. We crossed the plain, and passed through Shunem. There are no "great ladies there now, as it is a very squalid village; nor did its inhabitants appear to be descendants of any good Shnn- amites, male or female, for we were pelted with stones when passing through. Fortunately, however, the stones were neither very large nor very near, serving only to make us quicken our pace, and to make Hadji scold in fierce guttural Arabic, with pistol in hand. The attack was made by a number of boys, from the heights, and was doubtless prompted by the universal love of mischief peculiar to the young portion of our race, rather than b\ any hatred of Nazarenes peculiar to the place. We crossed Heiinon, and found ourselves iii a small decayed SAM ARIA TO I I i; I I village on the edge of another baj oi Esdraelon, which i.-l between the bills of Galilee and Sermon to the th II Ali recommended us to hall here, as it was an excellent pl& Lunch, having shelter from the beat, g I water, and abov< .-ill a friendly sheik, who would sell bim a g I lamb. Bui the vi bad attractions to us which Eadji knev ool of I' It is poor, confused, and filthy, like ever} village in I'll' -nu.-. bul its situation is very fine, commanding a good view of the plain, with the opposite hills, and especially of Tabor, thai ri noble wooded island at the head of the green bay. And Nain, in the light of the Gospel history, is another of th.-,. fountain* of living water opened up by the Divine Saviour, which have flowed through all lands to refresh the thirsty. How many widows, for eighteen centuries, have hern comforted, how many broken hearts soothed and healed, by the storj -i Nain bj the unsought and unexpected sympathy of .Ions, and bj II power and majesty. It was here that He commanded those who carried the bier of the widow's only son to stop, an i to the widow herself, "Weep not," and to her son. \ and then "delivered him to his mother," the mosl preciow she could receive, and such as a divine Saviour alone could bestow. What has Nineveh or Babylon been to the world in comparison with Nain? And this is the wonder constantly suggested by th<' insignificant villages of Palestine, thai their names have become parts, as it were, of the deepest experiences of the nobles! pi of every land, and every age. There are many remains of old tomb- to the easl of the vil and one may conjecture that it was as our Lord came into city from Capernaum, thai he met the procession going towai the tombs in that direction. Hadji's hopes as to our getting a lamb iii Nain wen full The sheik sold ns one. and the momenl the bargain eluded, he unexpectedly drew his knife, and killed the animal in our presence.* We crossed the plain and began to ascend the hills of Galilee which rise abruptly from it. The day was unpleasantly hot, and the sun heat on us with a heal more fierce than w< had hitherto experienced in Palestine. The ascent of the mountain, too, was by a wild path, which, as when descending to El Heram- yeh, ran for some time along the channel of a torrent. There is another path further north, which is shorter, I believe, but it is rougher still. The end of our day's journey, however, was the early home of Jesus. And who would grudge any amount of h< ;it or fatigue when pushing on for such a destination ! We soon descried the white houses of Nazareth, and with an eager inquiring look gazed on the inland basin, as I may call it, which, like a green nest, lies concealed from the gaze of the outer world amoixj- these beautiful secluded hills. We entered the town, and held straight on by church and convent, until, through narrow crowded bazaars and filthy lanes, we reached the further outskirts, and found our tents pitched in an olive grove, whose venerable trees have sheltered many a traveller. How much of the pleasure derived from seeing an object, such as a great work of art, or a scene of beauty or of historical interest, is derived from sympathy with others who have experienced the same feelings? Not alone, therefore, but with thousands who had gone before us, we travelled through Palestine, and looked out from the olive grove on the bills of Nazareth. 1 did not visit any church, Greek or Latin. I bad no wish to see the Holy Place of the Annunciation, as pointed out by the Greeks in their church at one end of the town, or by the Latins in theirs at the other. I had not even the curiosity to * Before flaying the lamb, an incision was made in the skin near the hind foot, when the sheik, applying his mouth to the orifice, inflated the whole skin. This seemed to make the operation of flaying much easier. For aught I know, this practice may be common, out I never saw it before or since. examine the place in bhe Franci ican I ' the Virgin .nice stood which was coin eyed b and which, having received the sanction of the [nfallil 1518 through the Papal Bull of Leo \ i dailj visited b crowds of admiring pilgrims than anj hoi} place in Pah I perhaps in the world. 1 was much more anxiou thought and object which could distracl my mind when to realise this place as the home of Jesus of Nazareth. When the sun set 1 walked, all alone, among the hills, i light was illuminated by a full moon, which seemed to of the sky as if it did not belong to the depths of blui Every object was revealed with marvellous clearness; wh dark shadows from rock and tree, from " dell and dingle," with the subdued light veiling- the bare white Limeston only relief to the eye, but added to the beauty and picturesqu< qi the scene. A low undulating ridge of hills encloses the green plain that lies like a lake, with Nazareth huili on one of its shores. I soon reached a point opposite to the town, where I sal down, pro- tected from the intrusion of an chance traveller or prowler by tic- deep shadow of a tree. From thence, ami <1 a silence broken only by the barking of the never-silent i\o"\ ' II in wisdom and in stature;' here for many years Ee [about a man for His daily bread; here He lived as an acquaint! neighbour, and friend. For years he gazed on this land walked along these mountain paths, and wot p] these solitudes, 'nourishing a life sublime' and far bey< comprehension. Hither, too, Ee came 'in the Spirit baptism by water and by the Eoly Ghost, and II the ministry; and alter that new and m} ^54 EASTWARD. hitherto simple and uneventful life, when He was tempted of the devil. Here He preached His firsl sermon in the synagogue in which it had hitherto been His ' custom ' to worship and to receive instruction; and here, too, He was first rejected — the dark cloud of hate from His brethren gathering over His loving soul And it was on one of these rocks thai there was a rehearsal of the scene at Calvary. Can all this." 1 asked myself, "be true \ Was this indeed the theatre of such events as these I" There was nothing very grand in the appearance of the place, yet tin- circumstances under whicn 1 saw it prevented any painful conflict arising in the mind between the real and the ideal. The town, with its white walls, all gemmed with lights scintillating with singular brilliancy in the mountain air. seemed to clasp the rugged hill-side like a bracelet gleaming with jewels. Masses of white reek shone out from dark recesses. The orchards ami vineyards below were speckled with patches of bright moonlight breaking in among their shadows ; while peace and beauty rested over all. The question may naturally suggest itself to the reader, as it often does to the traveller, whether an earthly setting to such a picture as the lite of Jesus has net a tendency to weaken one's faith in the divinity, in proportion ;i> it compels him to realise the humanity, of Christ's Person? The reply which each traveller will give must necessarily he affected not only by his previous belief S ding Christ's Person, hut by the proportion of faith, so to speak, which he has been more or less consciously in the habil of isihg with reference to our Lord's divine and human natures. Whether it was that in my own case the humanity of our Lord ver been very real and precious to me, I know not, hut the effect upon my mind of the scene at Nazareth was, if possible, to intensify my faith in Hi- divinity. For as 1 gazed on that insig- nificant and lowly town, so far removed at all time- from the busy centres ot even provincial influence, I remembered how, in •SAMARIA [*() 1 I |;| ; the memorable sermon preached there to II, and kinsfolk, these words were uttered by Him : of the Lord is upon me, because He bath anointed m< to p ,,,, ' g°spe] to the poor; He bath senl me to heal the bi hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and sigbt to the blind, to sot al liberty them thai are bi P reach the acceptable year of the Lord:" and howthal in J added, "This day is this scripture fulfilled in youi i u I recalled the previous life of the Man who dared thus I how since His boyhood He had lived, among the people whom Ik then addressed, a life marked by no sign or wonder, but only by holiness, which men were too commonplace and unholj to a life, too, in its ordinary visible aspects so like their own. that wll,, » ,1 '' thus spoke all were amazed as if a greal king had been suddenly revealed who had boon iron, childh I among them in disguise; and they asked with astonishment, "Is uol this Joseph's son ? " Recalling this, and contrasting it with all thai had since sprung up out of the holiest hearts, and all that had 1„ , .,, accom- plished on earth in the name of Jesus, then aro the question put 1800 years ago :—" Can ai.\ good thing come out of Nazareth ?" And what reply could 1 thou give to it from personal experience, and from the light east upon it b\ " the long results of time ?" As a minister and member of the ( Ihurch ol I Ihrist, and as a representative of a vast multitude on earth, and of multitude now before the throne of God, I could but saj 'i As sure as there is a right and wrong, as sure a- there is a Qod, the highest good that man can possess and enjoy has com< of this very Nazareth : From an experience tested in ever} land in every age, in every possible variet} of outward and in cumstances, we know that Jesus of Nazari tk has proved I be what He said Ho was when He preached that iir-t -, nnon know and can testify thai in our own -pirn- lb baa \.nk EASTWARD. "fulfilled that word"— that Ee lias healed out broken hearts, delivered us who were captives to sin, restored our sight when blind, and given us that light which carries with it its own evidence of truth, and enables us to see God, filling our hearts with joy and gladness! This was my reply. And a further question may suggesl itself — "Who was, or who is, this person, Jesus of Nazareth, to whom we owe all this -nod ?" A man like ourselves? Yes, but surely more than a mere man ! The wrv perfection of His humanity point- to something above humanity. And our faith is not in a Christ that was, to whom we owe all this -ood. hut in a Christ that is — in one who " was dead, hut is alive and liveth fa- evermore." and who is found to he the resur- rection and the lite of every man who has faith in Him. There- fore it was that, believing and knowing this, the Divine Person of Christ, as 1 gazed at lowly Nazareth, reached the sky. and Idled the whole earth with His -lory '. Next day we ascended the hill above the town, to enjoy the view from the famous "Wily." There is not in Palestine a more < i- manding or more glorious prospect than this. It embraces a land- scape which almost takes in the hills overlooking Jerusalem to the south, and the highlands of the north rolling up in crossing ridges and increasing in height until crowned by the snows of the majestic Hermon. To the west is the Mediterranean stretching to the horizon, the brown arms of the hay of Acre embracing it where it touches the land ; while to the east are the hills of Gilead beyond the .Jordan, vanishing in the pathles> plains of the Hauran. Within this circumference every object is full of interest. The magnificent plain of Esdraelon lies mapped beneath us with its verdant hays, surrounded h\ famous shores. The view also among the hill- of Galilee is most beautiful, varied as it is by rich inland plain- too remote for the ravages of the Bedouin, ami by pic- turesque and broken knolls clothed with wood, vines, and olives, and surrounded by verdanl grass and corn-fields. There i- one SAMARIA rO I I I; I I bright gem in the centre of all Cana of Galilee wh< r< II came eating and drinking sanctified for ever the use o( all i gifts, calling none of them common or unclean, and the tn< m of which will for ever mingle with the joys of the man All around us were the " ruins famed in story, which we had on the previous day. One thought was constantly present Jesus mnsl often have gazed on this view, and recalled the events recorded in < >M I ment history suggested by it. It is remarkable thai in Hi- fire! sermon preached at Nazareth He alludes to the two gr< .t pro- phets, Elijah and Elisha, who made this plain illustrious bj their deeds. What His thoughts and anticipations were, as He mili- tated oil all the past for many a year, cannot be guessed b) us, Enough that we were privileged to walk where He walked, I what He saw, and, best of all, to know the truth of whal He taught. From the " Wely " we pursued our journey to Tiberias, and hade farewell to Nazareth. Why attempt to describe our road 1 No one who has not travelled it will see it from any words of mine, and those who have seen it need not have recalled t- them what, after all, is not particularly worth reniemberii The most striking view on the road is thai of tin' famous "Kihiin,"or " Horns of Hattin." The general appearand of the hill is this — „„.„,.,.. I have applied the word famous to these " horns," not be< of the view either of them or from them, though both arestril but because they mark the traditional Mount of tl B This tradition has more in its favour than most traditions, position of the mountain with reference to the Laki ol I its neighbourhood, and the formation of the "1 is, reoonci :;- EASTWARD. narrative of the circumstances in which " the Sermon " seems to have been preached, first from one height, and then from a lower. I>r. Stanley says regarding it : — " Ir is the only height seen in this direction from the shores of the Lake of Gennesareth. The plain on which it stands is easily accessible from the lake, and from that plain to the summit is but a few minutes' walk. The platform at the top is evidently suitable for the collection of a multitude, and corresponds precisely to the 'level place ' (tozov -eSu'of'), to which He would 'come down ' as from one of its higher horns to address the people. Its situation is central both to the - nts of the Galilean hills, and the fishermen of the Galilean lake, between which it stands, and would therefore be a natural resort both to 'Jesus and His disciples,' when they retired for solitude from the shores of the sea. and also to the crowds who assembled 'from Galilee, from Decapolis, from Jerusalem, from Judaea, and from beyond Jordan.' None of the other mountains in the neighbourhood could answer equally well to this description, inasmuch as they are merged into the uniform barrier of hills round the Lake; whereas this stands separate — 'the mountain' which alone could lay claim to a distinct name, with the exception of the one height of Tabor, which is too distant to answer the requirement 3." It was on these horns also that the last great battle of the ( Irusaders took place. A strange comment this on the Beatitudes '. The first and lust account of this famous battle was published by Dr. Robinson. Enough for me to tell, that on the 5th of July, 1 L87, the army of noble knights, 2000 in all, with 8000 followers, drew up in order of battle around the Horns of Ilattin to meet the brave and generous Saladeen. The Crusaders had behaved in a most treacherous manner to the M. si ems, and had grossly broken their treaty with them. Saladeen \\;i- more righteous than they. They carried a- their rallying banner the true cross from Jeru- sal< m ; but the Mosl< ms had its justice on their side, though not SAM ARIA TO I 1 I: I I : I AS. its wood After days of Buffering and after ra - mistakes, the Crusaders found themselves terribly beaten, and all that remained of them on the evening of tins awful battli gathered on and around the Horns of rlattin. Kin G Lusignan was the centre of the group; around him were the Grand Master of the Knights Templars, Raynald of Chatillon, I lumphrey of Turon, and the Bishop of Lydda, t he latter of u hom bore the Holy Cross. All at last were slain or taken prisoners the Holy Land was lost. Few know these < !rusaders' names now, or care for them. They were famous in their day, and ha I their ballads and lady-loves, and were the admired of many a pilgrim. But they represented an age that was passing away, an that had done its work in the world. Yet who can see with indifference the spot where that storm of battle roared, amid the gleaming of axes, the flashing of swords, the streaming of banners the loud shouts and yells of victory or despair, and know that it was the burial-day of the Crusaders, and the triumph for a time of the Moslem, without stopping his horse, gazing on the scene, sighing, meditating, and then — alas for the bathos as well as the pathos of human nature ! — probably lighting his cigar. We rode along the upland ridge which ends in a gentle ascent leading to the summit of the hills that form the western Bide ot Tiberias, and rise about 1000 feet above its waters. We thought that we would have had time to ascend this height and look down from it upon the whole Lake; but the distance to it was greater than we anticipated, and so, descending the steep sides of the hill, we gained the ordinary track which leads round its Tiberias. We soon came in sight of the bake, and tin another dream of our life realised | Passing round the town, wit its many ruins, few palms, and great poverty, we reached our t which we found delightfully pitched on the shore oi th< I. at a safe and pleasant distance from the town. The first impressions made upon me by the icenerj of the bake :6o EASTWARD. of Tiberias are very easily described. Visibly it was but a lake, and "nothing more." The easl and west sin. res possess very different characters. The eastern shore has the same aspect as that of the I >ead Sea —the sam ■ kind of terrac -d Look, as if caused by a series of volcanic upheavings, at long intervals.* Tlie western shore is decidedly Scotch, owing, I presume, to it- trap (?) as well as its limestone. Its rounded hill-tups and broken grass-covered slopes certainly wore to me an old familiar look, recalling the hills of Moffat, or those round many of the Scotch lakes. The desolation of the shores of the Lake is another feature which at once strikes us. We see no trees — no white specks of houses — no trace of life — but a dead monotony without any variety of outline to give picturesque interest. The Lake is about fourteen miles long, six to seven broad at its centre, and five at Tiberias. 5Tet there is do town on its shores but this ruined Tiberias ; and so wholly given up to the lawless Bedouin is its eastern side that there is danger in landing there unless under the protection of some chief, to whom liberal backsheesh must be paid Yet this Lake was in our Saviour's days one of the busiest scenes in Pales- tine, with a dozen or more flourishing towns on its shores, — gay palaces giving to it the air of wealth and splendour, and a thriving traffic enlivening its waters. As Dr. Stanley remarks, "In that busy stir of life were the natural elements out of which His future disciples were to be formed. Far removed from the capital, mingled, as we bave seen, with the Gentile races of Lebanon and Arabia, the dwellers by the Sea of Galilee were free from most of * The view of Tiberias given by Roberta in his "Sketches of the Holy Land," " ! '"■■til to me a single feature of the scene excepl the sweep of the bay in ''" foreground. In everything save buildings Roberts is wofully inaccurate. I have seen no photograph or drawing whirl, gives any correct idea of the shores of the Lake of Tiberias such as Hunt gives of the eastern side of the Dead Sea in his ore of "The Soap goat." SAMARIA m I II, ll: |.\s. the strong prejudices whir], i,, the south of Pal »tim to His reception. f The people' in ' the land ol Zabulon Nephthalim, by the way of the sea bej I Jordan, Galili the Gentiles, 1 bad 'sat in darkness;' bul (rou thai ' they saw ' more clearly ' the greal lighl ' when n came : to them which sat in the region and the shadow of death,' for thai reason 'ligl it sprang up' the more readily. He came to 'pi the Gospel to the poor,' to 'the weary and heavj ladi a and to save that which was lost." Where could II- find work bo readily as in the ceaseless toil and turmoil of thi 3e teeming vill and busy waters? The heathen or half-heathen 'publican* tax-gatherers would be there, sitting by the lake side 'at the receipt of custom.' The ' women who were sinners ' would there have come, either from the neighbouring Gentile cities, or cor- rupted by the license of Gentile manners. The Roman oldiera would there be found quartered with their slaves, to I- near the palaces of the Herodian princes, or to repress the turbulen the Galilean peasantry. And the hardy boatmen, tilled with the faithful and grateful spirit by which that peasantry was always distinguished, would supply the energy and docility which Ik needed for His followers. The copious fisheries of the lake now- assumed a new interest. The two beats by the beach ; Simon and Andrew casting their nets into the water ; James and John on the shore washing and mending their nets ; the 'toiling all the ni-ht and catching nothing;' 'the great multitude of fishes 30 that the net brake;' Philip, Andrew, and Simon from 'Bethsaida' the 'House of Fisheries;' the 'casting a hook for the firsl fish that cometh up;' the 'net cast into the sea, and gathering of • kind' — all these are images which could occur oowhen Palestine but on this one spot, and which from that one s] now passed into the religious language of the civilisi I world in their remotest applications, or even misapplications, i verted the nations and shaken the throm I I j62 EASTWARD. The town o\ Tiberias is aot certainly very lively to look .it. though its insect-life has obtained a world-wide notoriety. I never entered it. as 1 more and more felt that any suppose! gain to my stock of information from the spectacles of filth and poverty which I knew it contained would only be a Loss to me in seeking to realise the holy past. J therefore saw its walls only, and these were so shaken, cracked, and crumbled by the great earthquake which occurred in 1N">7, that their chief interest consists in the visible effects of that tearful earth-heaving. The present town is comparatively modern. The ancient one was built by that Herod who -feared John" the Baptist, "knowing that he was a just man and a holy, and observed him; and when he heard him, he did many things, and heard him gladly." Yet he murdered him. It was this same sensual and superstitious tyrant to whom Jesus, when He met him face to face for the first time on the day of His crucifixion, preached the awful sermon of silence; for Herod "questioned with Him in many words, but He answered him nothing!" The ruins of the old city are scattered over the space between the hills and the Lake to the south, as far as the hot baths. Min-led with the shells on the shore are innumerable small hits of what had formed mosaic pavements. We easily g ttherod many specimens. We had hardly reached our tents and got settled in them when a boat, loaded with .lews, pulled past us from the baths to the town. The number of people in it sunk it to the gunwale, re- minding US oddly enough of the little boats and tall forms which are represented in Raphael's cartoon of "The Miraculous Draught of Fishes." A number of men were standing in it singing and clapping their hands in chorus. It was a rather joyous scene, — a rare thin- in these parts. We were told that it was a wedding procession. There are only two boats on the lake, and we Bent a messenger to the town to secure one of them tor us after dark, requesting SAMARIA TO TIBER that some fishermen with their nets would accom] i . other reasons than they could conjecture, we wer. a fishing." They came accordingly, when the stars and mooi out in the sky. Friends who had travelled with us from .1 salem accompanied us, and we rowed out on the Lai 1 I were spoken, but each had his nun thoughts, as th< - rough men cast out their nets for a draught, wholly ignoranl of other fisher- men who long ago had done the same. They were thinking only of backsheesh, and possibly of our folly in giving it. the cham getting anything where we let down the ue1 being 30 small It ia unnecessary to suggest the memories which arose as the nel was dropped in the calm sea rippling under the moonlight ; or as, after encircling a wide space for our prey, we "caught nothing." Were Peter and the sons of Zebedee, and the other Apostles, all of when, were chosen on the shores of this Lake, just such men as thesi I Were they such " earthen vessels," made rich only by the treasures of grace with which the Lord filled them day by day through His divine teaching? And if not so supernaturally educated and upheld, how have such men taught the world, become famous, and given names to the innumerable places of Christian worship which have been in all lands called after Si. Peter, St. James, St. John? The Divine Spirit alone, who tilled the man Christ Jesus, could have transfigure! I commonplace fishermen and publicans into Apostles, and made a commonplace Lai theatre of wonders. We bathed in the Lake. 1 mention this otherwise trifling! as it accidentally made us aware of the singular distance to which sounds are conveyed along this shore. Our partj bad themselves for convenience, and I was alone, when n began to converse at a considerable distance from me, I astonished beyond measure when, considering the spao bet us, I heard what was spoken in the tones of ordinary This induced us to continue tin experiment of talking, which : 6 4 EASTWARD. ended in'our conviction that, making all allowance for the well- known fact of sound being conveyed by water, we had never known any place where the tones of the voice could be so far heard. Our words sounded as in a " whispering gallery." It was evident that on this shore avast multitude mighl be addressed with perfect ease. Tiberias is 400, some say 600, feet below the l eve ] f the sea, and its banks are high. Does this account for the clear reverberations I This Lake is, without question, the most interesting in the whole world. There is no part of Palestine, not excepting Jeru- salem even, which is more associated with our Lord's life and teaching Yet it is impossible to fix on a single spot here, as on the Mount of Olives or at Jacob's Well, and affirm with certainty that there Jesus stood and spoke. His steps cannot be discerned upon the deep; we only know that His holy feet walked over these waters, and that His commanding voice calmed their stormy waves. He had walked and taught on many places along the broad beach which stretches between the hills and the sea; — but where, we cannot tell '. The silence of those lonely hills was often broken by His prayers at night, but God's angels alone know the spots where He uttered His "strong supplications," or those which He watered with His tears. Opposite Tiberias is the Wady Fik, with its ancient tombs near the road leading to the famous stronghold of Gamala, and with steep hills descending into the Lake. This is generally admitted to have been the place where our Lord healed the Gadarene demoniac, — a narrative which reveals at once man's spiritual and physical misery when possessed by evil; his weakness in attempt- ing to free a brother from Mich tyranny; the gracious power of Ji his. Lord of the unseen world, in casting out the evil spirit ; the blessed results visible in the man himself, sitting " clothed, and in his right mind," at the feet of Jesus; the wise and loving work given the restored man to do, " Go to thine own house, and show samaria ro ["IBI how great things the Lord li.ith done to thei and th< ing of grateful Love which impelled him bo | ilaim )•- i city the glad tidings of a deliverer from Satan. Seated on th< v shore of the Lake, one natural] here did that memorable scene occur which isrecordedin the la I chapi St. John's Gospel ? If ever a narrative shone in il Divine truth, it is this one. J t s simplicity and pathos, and it- exquisite harmony with all we know and believe of J< ma \n\ with an interest which must ever increase with its Btudy. I whole of the memorable scene comes before as as w< poi the events of those few days: — the weary oighl of toll, foreshadow- ing the labours of the fishers of men — the unexpected app i of the stranger in the shadow of early dawn —the miraculous draught of fishes, a prophecy of future ingatherings to the ' Jhurch of Christ — the instinctive cry of the beloved Apostle, " I' is the Lord " — the leap of Peter into the sea at the feet of bis M the humble meal, with such a company as has never met on earth again — the reverential silence first broken by our Lord — the thrice repeated question addressed in righteousness and love to him who had thrice denied Him — the all in all of thai question, which involved the essential principle of Christian Love, " I. me?" — the all in all of the command, which involved the essential rule of Christian practice, "Follow thou me" — the duty of those anxious about others shown by the reply to the inquiry, w Whi shall this man do?" "What is that to thee \ follow thou me ! — the announcement of a martyr's death made to him, and to h only, who, from fear of death, had denied his Lord, conveyin blessed assurance that, even in death, Peter would glorifj II —and the lesson taught to the Church of the untrusl of even apostolic traditions, seeing thai in the v the Apostles a false tradition had -one abroad regardii death of St. John, the true story being carefully n parted by Apostle himself:— all this, and more than words can expn 266 EASTWARD. vividly recalled as we sit od this shore; yet it is in vain that we ask, Od what precise spot did these events take place? But there is ao real cause of sorrow in our ignorance of such localities. The places where Jesus lived and taughl were de- nounced by Him in terrible words. These words have been ful- filled, and the ruins, or rather the complete obliteration,) of Caper- naum once exalted to heaven, and of Chorazin and Bethsaida, only typify the ruin of the souls of those who in any place receive not the truth in the love of it. Yet the truth itself remains to us, quite independently of the mere accidental circumstances of time and place in which it was first spoken ; and the words of Jesus, uttered in a few minutes, will ever remain the salt of the earth and the light of the world. The "Peace, be still," will calm many a storm ; " It is I, be not afraid," will bring strength to many an anxious soul; " Lovest thou me?" will search many a heart; "Follow thou me" will direct many a pilgrim. The world will tor ever lie influenced, and the Church of God nourished, by the teaching given beside these waters ; — by " the sermon on the mount ;" the parables of "the sower," "the tares," the "treasure hid in the field," the " merchant seeking goodly pearls ; " and by the lectures on "formality" (Matt, xv. 1), "faith" (John vi. 22), and on •■ humility" "forbearance" and "brotherly love" (Mark ix. :io). The day we spent at Tiberias was Good Friday, and though we Presbyterians keep no day specially " holy " except the Lord's day, yet knowing how many brethren " esteem this day above another and "regard it unto the Lord," we remembered with them the great event, which is dear to us all, as being the life of the world. We could not forget that it was near this district that He "began to show to His disciples how He must suffer many things of the chief priests and scribes, be killed, and rise from the dead on the third day;" and that when Peter began, in his ignorance, to rebuke Him, He taught those precious lessons of self-denial which every I I 1 Friday should recall as its practical teaching to all of us. XII. OUT OF PALESTINE. On our march to Safed on Saturday morning, we again pa the town of Tiberias, and crossed the slope of the 8t< i p hill thai descends to the portion of the lake beyond it. This promontory is the southern boundary of the famous plain of Gennesareth, which is three or four miles lung by about one broad, and skirt- the north-west corner of the lake. In all Palestine there are do three miles more interesting. The richness of the plain itself cannot be surpassed, though it is only partial!) and ] lv cultivated by a few oppressed and miserable-looking armed peasants. Yet the glory of its vegetation, and the splendour "t~ its flowering shrubs, suggest a vast "hothouse," whose walls have disappeared, but whose precious exotics remain to beautify the earth. Its tropical heat, the excellence of its .-dluvial -<>il swept down from neighbouring hills throughout long ages, the Btreams of living water that flow through it, sufficiently account for it^ luxuriant fruitfulness. It is bordered by hills of picturesque form, imposing height, and varied outline. A noble W idj i I Hymam), with precipitous rocks descends in one place, whi others less wild open their green sides and pour in theu streams; and the mountain mass topped bj Safed above all. On this plain, too, and along a line of about miles north from Midj el, were those populous and thrn with whose names we are so familiar, and where Buch busj momentous hours of our Lord's life on earth wen 268 EASTWARD. .;■ none of them have been certainly fixed,* with the exception of that of Magdala— whose name of Midjel is preserved in the present miserable -luster of huts at the very entrance to the plain, and which is for ever associated with her who was delivered from a mysterious possession of seven devils, and became full of love and devotedness to Jesus. But I have no doubl that with more time and 1 letter means of investigation, every site on the plain could he accurately determined. As it is, however, we know that within the space of a very few miles those lively and bustling described in the Gospel narrative once flourished ; and we can to some extent restore, by the power of fancy, guided by history, the scenes which make this plain and its shore the most famous in the world. Passing a stream above Khan Minyeh (the Capernaum of Rohinson and others), we began the long and steep ascent to Safed, along a path disclosing views really beautiful, and in some places actually grand, as in the Wady Leimun, where the preci- pices attain a height of TOO or 800 feet. An hour or so before reaching Safed, we were overtaken with such a deluge of rain as would have surprised even Glasgow and the west of Scotland. It combined the "pouring down in buckets" of England, with the "even down-pour" of Scotland. Where had our muleteers encamped? Were our tents floated off, or were they only soaked with water, and our beds and bags and port- manteaus reduced to a state of pulp 1 Hadji AH, anticipating the worst, wisely suggested that we should proceed at once to the only house in the city where we were likely to get shelter and tolerable accommodation on fair terms. It was the Austrian Consul's. We consented to enter any ark, if we could only get out of the deluge. So for the Consul's we made, with dripping * I do not attempt to enter on the question of sites, discussed so fully by Robinson, Stanley, Thomson, Wilson, Porter, Buchanan, and others; I must refer my readers to their works for full and ample information on the point. OUT OF PALESTIN] . horses, dripping hats, dripping clothes, and dripping ,. \\ , entered the city by the channel ofwhal seemed to be the common sewer rushing like a mountain rivulet, and halted steps which led to the door of a house, whose outward app was characterised by a humble disregard of all pretend to tecture, beyond what was actually needed to pla stone upon another, leaving spaces for a door and a f. u windows. The chamber into which we were ushered was Miffi- ciently cool. It had stone floors and stone-vaulted roof, but no furniture, save a Consular coat-of-arms, suspended on the wall, and bearing an eagle with two heads, which, by the way. bi emed much more puzzled, distracted, and stupid than any eagle with only one head I had ever seen. We found that, although our I soaked, our luggage and beds were safe. So in a shorl time we managed to give our vault some signs of life and comfort Another room into which ours opened was a kitchen -that is.it had a large chimney, and was full of smoke. Here Hadji and Nubi spread their mats and cooked our victuals, making themselves and us equally comfortable. Most thankful were we for our Btone retreat, and not the less so when Consul Mierolowski presented himself, and proved to be a simple-hearted, frank, thoroughly kind man. He was delighted to let his lodgings t . . us, and thankful for the storm which had driven us his way. He is the only Christian in the place, and very seldom sees any civilised Europeans. Travellers, in ordinary circumstances, live in their tents, and pitch them outside the town, passing him by. Sp aking of the rain, he comforted us by remarking, in an offhand, consular, and statistical way, that an earthquake was due about tin- I as they generally come periodically, and the state . >i the atm. sphere was an unmistakeable warning. There had been a shock, moreover, three days before, which had made all the inhabitants rush out of their houses ; and it was apt to repeat itself, he -aid, on the third day. We looked at the vaulted i""t and stone wall-. 270 EASTWARD. but said nothing. Earthquakes, the reader must understand, haw been a familiar subject of conversation in Safed since 1837, when from two to three thousand persons perished in a few minutes. The houses circling the hill — like the terraces of the Tower of Babel in the old Bible pictures — then fell pell-mell on each other, crushing Jew and Mahometan into one mass of dead and dying-. But as the Consul in announcing the probable return on this day, not necessarily of such an earthquake as would destroy the " Schlupwinkel," as he called Sated, but of such a tremor or shock as might throw us out of our beds — asked a light for his cigar, exclaiming when a few damp Inciters refused their light, "Tausend donnerwetter, noch einmal!" his coolness made us pluck up courage and think of dinner. The Consul dined with us, and was both intelligent and com- municative, his German being very good. He entertained us with stories about the Jews, and the conduct of the Turkish officials towards them, and towards all whom they can swindle or oppress. "For," as he remarked, "these fellows who govern here, such as Abdul Kerim EfFendi, or Moodir Bey, know not how long they may be in circumstances to make money. An intrigue by anyone who has a larger purse to bribe the bigger purses, may take the prey out of their hands ; so they must pluck and eat it as rapidly as possible. If they only gather and remit the amount of taxes which they bargained for, good; all above that sum which they can cheat the miserable people out of, or force from them, is so much gain to their own pockets.'' ■• For example I " I said. "For example \ WelL A dew not long ago bought a piece of -round here, and began to erect a house upon it. The Turkish official sent for him and told him, that one of the workmen had brought to him a bone, dug up accidentally from the -round. It was evident therefore that some true believer had been buried there, and that the house of a Jew could not possibly be erected oin mi i xu . | | on so holy a spot. The Je* must stop the buildin ;i11 '".v money!' pleaded poor Moses in vain. I: his man, and expressing his deep regrel for the .,,..,!., ,,,,-h he had so unintentionally committed, begged to know if a fine, of 10(H) piastres (thai is, a bribe of course to the official I sin, would be a sufficient atonement 1 The official replied thai be would consider. Having made up his mind to pockel the mon< j and his orthodoxy, he forthwith oof a stone cu1 with .-, , it, and this he ordered to he buried in the supposed ftiahon graveyard. The 1000 piastres being paid in the meantime bj the Jew, the Turk assembled some of the orthodox Gentiles along with the orthodox Jews, and expressing his doubts reg irdii Mahometan origin of the bone, and his sincere wrish to do i to the Jew, suggested that they should dig and examine the • with care. Soon the stone with the cross was exhumed ' Ah l' said the Turk, 'I rejoice! It has been a Christian burial p and what care you or I for the dogs? Proceed with pour building !'" The Consul described the Jews as being sunk to the loi point of morality. Here let me remind the reader thai there are in Palestine four cities called "holy" by the Jews ;— Hebron, Jerusalem, Tiberias, and Safed. In each there has been a school of Jewish learning, which produced some great schol whose names are famous in every synagogue, and some of whom, such as Maimonides, whose tomb is outside Tiberias, are known to all students. Now the longer one lives in the world the more is he disposed to make exceptions to any generalisation the character of any whole party, class, or sect. Hut. not this, I must admit that it is more than likely from the circum- stances in which the Jews of Palestine are placed, that thej as a whole, very degraded. They live chieflj on the chant their brethren in Europe, to whom appeals are annuall) I men appointed for the purpose and who receivi a tion" 27 2 I.A.ST WARD. in the way of per centage on their collections. This of itself is a Btrong temptation on the pari of the recipients to bo idle, Lazy, and suspicious; and on the pari of the Rabbis, who collect and distribute the alms, to be tyrannical and dishonest. Besides tins, according to a principle of the Turkish Government, cadi reli- gious persuasion, other than Mahometan, is allowed to manage its own affairs — their officials enjoying the power of life and death over those subject to them in ecclesiastical matters. This system saves trouble to the Government, which would derive no profit from saving men's lives, far less from executing justice. Thus it happens that the .lews in Palestine are, as far as we could learn, very fanatical and degraded — the Rabbis ruling with a rod of iron, or of pickle. The Consul gave us some facts touching the morality of the Rabbis, the truth of which he solemnly vouched for as having come under his own eve ; hut they are far too terrible and disgusting to be told in these pages.* Of their oppressions and robberies, I may, however, give one or two instances. It is the law, we were given to understand, of the Jewish community, that any money which enters a holy city belongs to the Rabbis on the death of its possessor. Now an Austrian Jew, with his son, had lately come, in bad health, to try the virtue of the baths at Tiberias. Feeling worse, he removed to the town of Tiberias itself, where he died. He left a considerable sum of money in a belt round his waist, of which his son and heir took possession. " It is ours ! " said the Rabbis, " for he died in a holy city, and his personal property is therein consecrated to holy purposes." "It is mine!" answered * One terrible story was to the effect that the punishment of death had been inflicted on a Spanish .1 day before we reached Safed, for a crime in which oru of tlu Rabbis who tried and condemned her was himself notoriously implicated. We begged the Consul to make further inquiries on this subject. This he did, assuring as that all he beard was confirmed by an intelligent Jew who, though he hated the procet din^, reared to speak. Such is the rei^n of terror. "II OF PALESTINE. (! "' son, "fur I am his lawful heir b) the lawe ol m The Rabbis urged, expostulated, threatened, bullie I all in vain. " Refuse," they said, "and we won't bui I. hi shall casl his body into a cellar." The son remained ob " v,,u m ^st, then," said the Rabbis, "lodge with \ • tail,. , and they locked him up in the cellar, in bol mffo itii with his father's dead bod} ! Nexl .lav he v • i,„, still refusing obedience, he was seized and robbed of all I,,. |,., | He then fled, and, as an Austrian subject, casi himself foi tection ( "i the Consul, wIk, got him safelj and speedily con out of the country, where ho ran the risk of being a | |,„ daring to rebel against the Rabbis. The I lonsul was at this time engaged in seeking to got redress. Mr, Rogers, our well-known and excellenl Consul at Damascus, who was formerly in Safed and Jerusalem, informed tni afterwards that, upon claiming the property of a British Jew who died at Jerusalem, for the be'hoof of his family in Englan I. burial of the body was refused by the Rabbis until the property was acknow- ledged to be theirs. This Mr. Rogers resisted, and determined to get the body buried himself. But when aboul to lower the J into his grave, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, so hoi a fire waa opened on the burial party from concealed foes on both sid the valley, that they had to fly for their lives, and Becur< Turkish guard before they could accomplish their pui Another story, and I am done. One of tin Rabbis in Sat-; a false key for the treasury from which the small weekl} allov to the "saints" is distributed, -and daily helped himself froi He was detected in the act 1»v the daughter of the treasurer, I she allowed him to escape on the promise "f hi- n sign the blessed privilege of the seat iii heaven which hi was entitled to. The girl was grateful foi such a pi motion after death. Hut seen after, he was del i\ hi> practices by her mother, who was ignoranl of his pn lelin- - ; WARD. : : " - - t for £ I i bus - finally setl _ - I - I 5 seat It mi;-" Such is the state of the Jews and intel a try this [t is • 5 to refuse s 5, unless for tl - . If they must g 3, these should be admi: stei - faithful _ horn they could tru-' - t between righl and if a tithe " 3 told me in g thos well- ; this intry I with t. - sens " N V \-i L Paris, or 1 ould very soon revoluta ise for g ties of H 8 • But t<> return t - tversation. 1 to the G .eni- g • • ■ tail the s _ - towns .thin his circuit. tioning 1 ruahum." !" ] - go far to set at rest rnaum."— Sometimes - t is B • - - K - the Arabs this fact, I res • L as il ----- ' thai a t mis - • • . - .' t prosecul ' - Had I report how- Ol'T OF PAL] ever, that Cons rnaum, had ass that Kafl applied to an old site by the such evidence won - V 3 at Bej root with I »:. Thorns I i. and the Book," and with Mr. Rogers formerly, as I hav Austrian v. other place uu tl. - f the Lake of 1 K ~rnahum by the native popnlati The Consul mention if true — and on inquiry I hear it contra _ that Sal the district immediately around it is called ( who ofte:. - _ to" oi when met journeying to or from the distri I : S fed. It' tl further inquiry be found correct, the name of £i Simon the Canaanite which w- t Safed was E - S and we had divine led both by E jj friends, who had more or less travelled with us In ti. tlked up to the ruins of tl which immediately overhangs - earthquake shook and overtoil k-like \ completed the destruction which the Turk- and T since begun. The evenii._ was g - A. holy East sted on mountain, plain, an: sea The view, t : and the thought that this was epened the fei ling of sadness which was so holj tons soul and Gilboa, and HeiTnon ; an. : of S - the Ion- ridge haracter undlike i neath us i -vn. lay the s !76 EASTWARD. shining from its northern end onwards to its southern, where we saw the long depression of the Ghor leading to the Dead Sea The plain of Gennesareth, and the shore on which Capernaum, Chorazin, and Bethsaida must have stM.nl, were mapped out below. The longer I gazed on this scene and endeavoured in silence to receive the spirit which it breathed, the present became like a dream, and the dreamlike past became present. We came away praising God for His mercy in giving us such an Easter day ; and praising Him still more for giving an Easter day to the whole world by which we are " born again to a living hope by the resur- rection of < !hrisi from the dead." Next morning we began the day's journey that was to take us out of Palestine. The night after leaving Safed we encamped at Maas. The first portion of our journey was through scenery, not only far surpassing anything we had seen in Palestine, but such as would attract attention and excite admiration it' seen amidst the glories of Switzerland itself. The road which we followed during pari of the day passed through extensive forests, luxuriant in spreading foliage and carpeted with brilliant flowers, revealing nooks of beauty that reminded me of the natural woods clothing seme of our Highland hills and glens. There were many devious and perplexing paths, one of which was followed by our ardent flower- gatherer, and which, perhaps for the first time in his life, led him astray. It was some time before be was recovered by the habitual wanderer, Meeki. We rede along the summit of a ridge running north and south. Suddenly, when emerging from the forest into one of its open glades, a so ne of greal beauty burst irpon us. The ridge en which we .-teed descended n>r at least 2000 ieet in a series of plains, green with crops, and clothed with underwood; until the hill-side rested en the dead flai valley which extends for twenty mile, from the Lake of Tiberias to the roots of Hermon. This plain is occupied by a marsh, through which the Jordan Hew- into hake Huleh, or Merom, which lay beneath us "1 T OF PAL] STINE. far down,- a brighl eye, fringed with a broad circle of i...!- like eyelashes. The situation of the ancient Kadesh Naphtali on th< ami i is vi t\ beautiful. 1 do not remember having ->-. □ such noble "li\. - elsewhere. One which I measured was about L8 feel in circum- ference. Tlif remains of columns, sarcophagi, ami buildi whether Jewish or Roman, I knownot air numerous and impn sive. Kadesh was one of the cities of refuge, and it was < Port- ing to think of even the temporary rest and peace thai mam a poor prodigal got by flying to it. It was also the birth-pla Barak ; and nobly did its 10,000 Highlanders second their chief in his brave attack on Sisera, when the more comfortable Lowlanders kept to their fertile fields or profitable shipping. Joshua also penetrated these inland solitudes when he fought tin- battle "1 Merom — just as the brave Montrose, who, fighting for a w. .id- ealise, entered our West Highland fastnesses, and by his \' r\ daring secured the victory. Here, too, Sisera was slain in tin- tent of Jael — a vile, treacherous act, done by a bold, enthusiastic, ignorant, well-meaning woman, and an act which we cannot but condemn, even when feeling no pity whatever tor the brave but tyrannical Canaanitish Cateran whose death restored t.. I thousands better than himself. On our journey this day we passed a settlement of Zouaves from Algeria. It is on the side of a most romantic glen, Dear i hill which Dr. Robinson supposes to have been the site of tip- capital of Hazor. It was curious to see this village, inhabited bj men who have come all this distance from their homea rather tha submit to the French. It is probable that the} had "comproi themselves " by a too great devotion to their country. Bui glad to see that they appear to have a mosl comfortable " locati< and to be very prosperous in sheep, goats, and cattle. I must also mention an incident of this da\ which touched us. After passing through a prettily situated \ill.e_ 278 EASTWARD. forget its name— we came upon a rather excited crowd, composed chiefly of women, who were weeping and wringing their hands, as they accompanied our cavalcade of muleteers. We discovered, on inquiry, thai one of Meeki's servants —unfortunate wretch ! — was a native of the village; and thai the chief mourners on the :ii occasion were his mother and sisters, who had received him with joy, and. as the phrase is, "pressed him to their bosoms," as he suddenly and unexpectedly appeared in the old home. The excitement in the village, the honesl tears of the women as they gazed after our lad, the eagerness with which relations and old companions accompanied him seme way on the journey, I confess, "did my heart good." T was thankful for such evidences of the love which exists everywhere (in some hearts) and makes us all akin. The object of all this tender solicitude, was a remarkably nice youth, whose character might be summed up thus, "good- Looking, active, and oblieinsf"- a wonderful contrasl to Me ki ! 1 heartily expressed my sympathy with him by giving him the hand- some backsheesh of a paper of good needles, some excellent thread, some artistic buttons, and a pair of glittering steel scissors, all of which I heeo,.,] ],j m to present, with my love of course, to his amiable and affectionate mother and sisters. The muleteer grate- fully received, and as they say of the reply to all toasts, eloquently acknowledged, the gift, and the manner in which it was conveyed. But my subject changes, and with it my thoughts. When oppo- site Hermon 1 could not forget that this magnificent mountain, which towers over Palestine, and whose pure and eternal snows join its landscape to the -ky. was the scene of the transfiguration of our Lord. A true poet has beautifully expressed what until lately was the general belief: — •■ Wli:it liill is like tn Tabor's lull in b< auty and in fame ? '1 In re in the Bad days of hi- flesh o'er Christ a glory came OUT 01 PAL] mm ^^ t0 :^°^ H jf^^ea; and raised 1 And the voice went forth that bade alU 1; '" bhe whole ^rative, as is now generally admitted y " *asHermon, and not Tabor, that was foi .. , by this sublime event. E was thankful, when pa tme, to be able to associate with .1,,. the last and i | BU bH me view from its sacred soil, one of the most ..„, ,,. , illl|( occurred in the history of Him whose life is the light of the whole land. That transfiguration, like Hermon, almost seems alone in ita grandeur. It first of all united the old dispensation with th< For Moses the representative of the law, and Elijah the repr* sentative of the prophets, appeared with Jesus in glory, and thus witnessed to Him who had fulfilled both the law and the pi .,.1,,.. Their work was finished. The stars which had illumined the old night were lost in the blaze of this risen Sun. A voice from the Shekinah now said, to Jew and Gentile: -"This is mj beloved &m--hear Him." Moses and Elias therefore depart, and leave the disciples with Jesus alone. Henceforth Ho was to 1... all and all. Hermon,as connecting Palestine geographically with the Gentile w,.rl,l beyond, was a fitting- place for such a revelation I J m whom alone Jew and Gentile woe t., become one. The ti figuration also united this world with the next. Most a and Eli had been in glory for many centuries, yel they remained the identical persons, retained the same nam,-, and spoke the same language, as when on earth. A mosl comforting thought to us! For while Christ will "change our vile bodies, and fashion like his own glorious body," yel to our human hearts it tears, and answers many questionings, to know thai ever be the same persons; preserving our individual • ■ — all that is imperfect excepted . retaining | iblj * " The Devil's Dream," bj TI >So EASTWARD. and old Language, as Moses and Elias did; anyhow, that we shall know prophets and apostles, and our own dear ones, even as we arc known of them. This thought makes parting from friends en- durable, "which else would break the heart." How soothing to be assured thai as certain as Jesus on the sides of I [ermon conversed with Moses and Elias from heaven, and with Peter, James, and John from earth, so all who are united to the One Lord are united to each other; and that, though we cannot make enduring taber- uacles, or abide in anyplace, here below with our friends, how- ever dear, we shall yet in spirit, in heaven and earth, live toge- ther with Chrisl and his whole Church. The Death which Chrisl accomplished at Jerusalem, the only subject, as far as we know, of converse between Him and those heavenly visitants on this day of triumph, is the pledge of this very blessing. And when in leaving Palestine a feeling of despondency deepened the fear as to our ever joining that grand army — the traces of whose conflicts and triumphs we had been following with such eager interest -H ermon once more supplied us with comfort, refreshing as its own dews, nol only from faith in thai Death which He has •accomplished at Jeru- salem," lmt from the story of that distressed parent, who, disap- pointed in all other men. had brought his child to Jesus as he de- scended from the mount, and cried, with mingled hope and doubt, " [f thou cansl do anything for us, help us!" Oh, blessed reply! " If thou cansl believe!" As if He had said, There is no barrier in me — only in thyself. Believe and live! Oh, blessed confession and prayer, which were accepted and answered :- " Lord. I believe; help thou mine unbelief." With this prayer in my heart I turned away from Hermon, though not from its undying memories. The Litany is as impetuous as a glacier stream, without a calm pool, or rippling ford. Bui we had a g 1 old bridge t<» cross by, which saved US from all danger and trouble. High above to the left, on the top of a grand precipice washed by the raging stream, are the magnificent ruins of the Crusaders' stronghold, Kelat-el- <>l T oF PA 1.1 M Shukeef (Belfort). There is no ruin on Rhine 01 Danultc imposing. We passed the bridge and were out of Palestim ' Some of our party ascended to the castle, and came back in raptures with the majestic pile itself, and the majestic \i< v. from its walls. 1 jogged on with Hadji, and occupied my timi him what as a mere dragoman he ought, as I told him, to 1 but which, to my astonishment, he was profoundly ignorant That was the leading facts of the Bible which make the land so interesting to those travellers on whom he depends. He listened with great patience, and seemed grateful for the information, won- dering at the Bible stories connected with the places which \\' had visited together. Let other travellers give similai and dra- gomen will thereby become more intelligent and useful ; nay, they may be able in their turn to instruct travellers who are \«t\ igno- rant of their Bibles, and who do not even take the trouble of honestly reading the portions of Scripture referred to in M accurate pages. We encamped at Nabathieyeh the Lower — our nexl Maas. The whole aspect of the country was now changed 1 1 of mulberries began to cover the valleys. The houses "t" the vil- lages were built more substantially, and with some attempts al art. This could be easily accounted for by the fad thai the country if beyond the region which is preyed upon by the Arabs ol the ■: There being here some security for property, there wa industry, with comparative comfort At no place did our presence' attract greater attention I Most persons go to Damascus by Banias, or p iss on to Sidon tent of the traveller is not so hackneyed therefor I N as elsewhere. Crowds accordingly gathered round i circle three deep, the young in front and the old beh gazing on wild beasts from another clime : but all v. EASTWARD. and orderly. As usual, the musical-box produced the greatest excitement and interest, as ,11,1 also the performance which I rally added, on th( Jews 1 jaws' \ harp.* I saw so many perfectly beautiful boys and girls as here. And this is dly true of th - : about ten or twelve years The symmetry and el ; f their features, the exqui- sitely chiselled nose, lips, and chin, and the calm lustr quite- riveted me. One boy particularly struck us as p ing a as ideal as that of him who, in Hunt's noble picture, represents the boy Jesus in the Temple. The Turkish governor, in an old shabby surtout, and a shirt that 1 to have been washed in pea-soup, paid us an official visit ; and was wonderfully high-bred in his whole manner, in spite of his garments. He was delighted with some photographs of my chil- dren, which I showed him with paterfamilias fondness, and he introduced some of his own " toddling" young ones to us. I was praising their appearance when Hadji told me that he dared not translate my words, as they would give offence. Such ] 3 signs of an evil eye. I therefore simply echoed his pious wish expressed in regard to myself, that he might have many. although for aught I knew lie may have had, like myself, aim si - many as his nursery can well accommodate. We both salaamed, ho¥ ■ the mutual compliment. The next day's journey was not very interesting. "We wound down to Sidon, among stupid low hills with nothing worth looking at which I can remember. We were glad to hail the old seaport at last. As we approached it, the air tor a considerable distance * Tl • easily amused, and seem to have a keen sense of the ludi I mask, or what- ideror laughter in children, stir a whole village, and in art for a traveller than the Sultan's firman or ngly revolvers. Laughter and merriment form a and much mon 1 of union between the traveller and the Id and youi._ I powder. OUT OP PAL] STINE. was l;l ' 1 "" with delicious perfume, which in .l,i , T { '[ 1 ,"»»««-*«« m faU and glori Jo om [ had no idea " ,; " fcheodour ^ any flowers, even tho, fArabyth. I: be carried so far od the breeze. We spread our carpets among the orange-trees for lunch an. Pose, enjoying the smell and the exquisite fragrance from the white masses of blossom overhead. The whole neigbbourh I great garden filled with every kind of fruit-bearing to ^ almonds, lemons, apricots, peaches, pomegranates to , which abundant streams of water are supplied from L banon Our stay unfortunately was short. We had barely time ... risil the old port, within the long line of the wall and castle which protect il from the north. As at Jaffa, the selection of the place as a har- bour was evidently determined by a reef of rocks forming a deep lagoon within, and defending it from the waves of the oub But beyond the usual attractiveness to the eye of everything ori- ental, and the old associations of the place, we saw uothing worth noticing, though there must be much in the towu and neighbour- hood. There is an efficient branch of the American Syrian M sion here, labouring among the 5000 inhabitants of the town, and also in the upland valleys of the overhanging spurs of the I, banon. It seems a thriving place, and survives in spite of it. old wicked- ness. The sinners, not Sidon, have been destroyed yet how I its former glory passed away ! Our camping ground for the night was on the river Damur, to reach which occupied us five hours from Sidon. The road Sidon to Beyrout is described in " .Mi max " as being most wearying rides in Syria." We did uol find it so I voices, "one of the mountains and the otherof thi silent all the way. The " Greal Si a was dashing its billow the sands to our Left, along which we often rode, whil right the "goodly Lebai " contributed son ridges broken with rock and stream, and clothed with ti >S 4 EASTWARD. I must admit, however, that the route for many hours is, od the whole, tame; and that the traveller who 1ms time at Ins command should branch off to such places as El-Jun, nol far from Sidon, oear which is the old convent which Lady II jter Stanhope long occupied as her private lunatic asylum; and Deir-el-Kamar, one of the most picturesque villages in the Lebanon. We reached our tents about sunset, rather fatigued after our ride from Nabathieyeh ; but we enjoyed the luxury of a swim in the "salt sea faeme," which made us all fresh again. The scenery of a considerable portion of the road next day on our way to Beyrout was extremely fine. The lower ranges of the Lebanon running parallel to the sea, with their slopes and glens clothed with mulberry and fig trees, and covered by white houses and villages high up en their steeps, and with old convents crowning all, reminded me of the road along the Riviera, between Genoa and Spezzda, and in some places was quite as beautiful. After passing through sandy dunes, through large olive groves, and an extensive forest of dwarf pines, we entered Beyrout, and found onrsdves in Basoul's most comfortable hotel, and once more in the region of Boots and Waiter, table d'hote, and civi- lisation. Our party broke up at Beyrout. Our friends Mr. Lundie and Mr. Barbour, who had travelled with us from Marseilles, and contributed much to our happiness, resolved to visit Baalbek. My brother, who had been formerly at Damascus, remained now at Beyroul ; while Mr. Strahan and 1, whose time was limited, found that we could get a glimpse of Damascus — but no more! Hadji Ali and the tents therefore passed into the service of our friends and it was not without some feelings of pain that, after settling accounts and backsheesh to the satisfaction of all parties, we bade our dragoman ami ^[^ farewell. The slight clankings of the <■Ii.un which bad heretofore bound us, were forgotten in the mutual salaams with which we parted. To our surprise, we Learned thai a French company had en- gineered an excellent road to Damascus, a distance of aboul oin< ty miles, and ran on it a well-horsed, well-appointed, comfortable diligence! No doubt this was vciv differenl from the poeti a tent, and of a long cavalcade of mules and horses winding among the mountains of Lebanon, and along its old historic paths. But I must confess that the prosaic and much more rapid ami comfortable mode of travelling was heartily welcomed and appre- ciated by us. Had we been obliged to depend on Meeki and his cavalry, we never could have soon Damascus, and consequently would have lost one of the most fascinating scenes in our journey. Seated in the coupe, with six strong horses before it to drag up the Lebanon, we left Beyrout at four o'clock in the morning, and arrived at Damascus about five in the evening. What .1 railway is in speed to a diligence, such is a diligence to ordinary riding in Syria. The travelling was admirably managed : shorl stages; good horses; excellent driving; resting-places at proper intervals, where " meat and drink" were nicely served, with French civility. We had a tolerable view of the country a- we j< along, at first slowly, up the steep ascent of the Lebanon for ;i few thousand feet, then in full swing down its eastern Blop< a, then briskly across the flat of the Coele-Syrian plains, then another lone- drag over the shoulder of the Anti-Lebanon, until finally, after passing along streams and canals, through cultivated fields and rich gardens and orchards, we entered Damascus, with the horses trotting and the whips cracking in a way which reminded one of the olden time of the ditties ami paves oi Belgium or France. There was nothing Eastern in it. I presume thai do carriage- wheels had until recently marked those lull- or valleys since the days of the Romans. The scenery of the Lebanon is among the finest in the world, >86 EASTWARD. and lias been described in the mosl enthusiastic terms by all who have had time to penetrate its innumerable valleys or gaze on the glorious views from its many commanding heights. The pic- turesque villages and hoary strongholds, the brighl verdure, farms, corn-fields, and pasture lands; the fine wooding, from noblest cedars to every fruitful tree, arc all worthy of the "goodly Lebanon." But those who get glimpses only of scenery from the prison cell of a coupe", can hardly presume to describe it. What we saw was, however, sufficiently interesting and varied to make the journey agreeable. The finest view we got was that of the silvery Hermon closing up the Ccele-Syrian plain to the south. We again crossed the Litany as it rolled on, to foam pasl Kelat-el-Shukeef, and empty itself in the Mediterranean near old Tyre. Our Damascus hotel — the best "Laconda" — combined the com- forl of the Wes1 with the picturesqueness of the East. The inner (•.nut and the fountains open to the skies, the balmy air. brilliant bright blue sky, fresh water, flowering plants. — all gave it an aspect of comfort and luxury which made it a most welcome and unexpected ret reat. Our tirst expedition in the morning was to a well-known spot, the Wely Nasr, half an hour's ride from the city. My old ac- quaintance, Mr. Ferrette, was our guide. Mr. Rogers, the able and learned Consul, and the patient, kind friend of every traveller, put his horses at our disposal. The Wely Nasr is a spot which ha- been visited by every traveller as affording the view, which, once -con, will ever be remembered as the finest of the kind on earth, it is a quiel Mahometan chapel, reared on the shoulder of the ridge of hills which rises immediately above the town, and close to the path by which travellers have for ages entered Damascus. By coming in the diligence we losl the impression which is made when the whole scene is beheld through an open arch which frames the marvellous picture, But although the landscape did not burst thus suddenly upon us, il less, far more glorious than we anticipated, in spite of all . read and heard aboul it. The one feature Which arrests the eye is thai wondro thai exuberant foliage of every h >f green, contributed by various tints of olive, walnut, apricot, poplar, and pomegranate. This is interspersed with fields of emerald corn, topped hen there by the feathery palm, thai always witnesses for the clime in which it grows; and with silvery flashes from thi which circulate amidst the "bowery hollows" and through portion of this vast garden, covering a space whose circumfen oce is thirty miles, though in the pellucid atmosphere il embrace but a great park! In the midst of this •_ domes and minarets rise above the half-revealed and far-spreading houses and streets, like line-bf-b'attle ships moored in some inland harbour; while beyond it all is brown rock or plain, hoi and sultry-looking, as if boating back in despair the sun's rays thai attack it with furnace heat, The gardens begin at the verj fool of the bare white limestone ridge on which we Btand, as the green waves of thedeep sea roll along a rocky shore. Far in the distance and beyond the limit of the verdure, the Sal plain sweeps to the horizon — here towards Palmyra and Bagdad, there to the Hauran, unless where it is broken by barren hills that rise above the shimmer, like islands amidsl a shoreless ocean What gave life to this fruitful spot was apparent Close beside lis, and at the bottom of a deep gorge to our right, through which we had passed in the diligence, the river Barada rushed clear and strong; and parallel to it were several narrow deep canals, cut out of the rock, which convey the water al different levels to the city, gardens, corn-fields, and houses, until, having blessed the earth and the homes of men, it disappears mi" the lakes and marshes seen in the far distance. But it is not alone what the eye sees which 'ji\'" the charm 288 EASTWARD. to Damascus but what we know, or what the imagination creates l,,, m the elements supplied by authentic history. Beautiful as the spectacle is, yet how would its glory almost pass away if it had do " charm unborrowed from the eye!" We can conceive of some city equally beautiful outwardly, erected in a desert, whether of Australia or California, and mad.' the capital of . ygers and men successful in their "prospecting." But could it ever, in the nature of things, look as Damascus does ? It is impossible to separate the glory of any earthly scene from the magic charm with which human history invests it ; and Damascus La the oldest city on the face of the earth. It remains a solitary specimen of worlds passed away: it is like a living type of an extinct race of animals. It was historical before Abram Left Mesopotamia For a period as long as that which intervened between the birth of Christ and the Reformation, it was the capital of an independent kingdom. For a period as long as from the dawn of the Reformation till the present time, the kings of Babylon and Persia possessed it. For two centuries and a half later the Greeks governed it; the Romans for seven centuries more; and since their departure, 1200 years ago, Saracens and Turks have reigned here. The mind gets wearied i,, attempting to measure the long period during which Damascus has survived, as if it were destined to mark the beginning and end of history, to be at once the first and last city in the world ! It is remarkable, also, how many distant parts of the earth are linked to thifi sequestered and solitary town. It is linked to Palestine by many a cruel war. The soldiers of King David garrisoned it. Nor can we forget how, in connection with Jewish history, there once passed out of these gardens on his way to Samaria a Commander-in-Chief, yet a wretched leper, guided to a poor prophet of the Lord in Samaria by a young, unselfish, God-fearing Jewish captive, stronger than Naaman in her simple OUT OF PALESTINE. faith ;iimI ,n,,ll; ' b ™ the same „,,,, *bo Ul ,„ forth uitli fcalents "' S old and silver and g IK raiment a I , Measures, returned with them, but valuing roost of all earth ,mm ""' ^nd whose God bad restored him to health ,ll " lkm - more of ,l11 ' w-Ud and fierce Jordan .1,.- f hi Abana and Pharpar. To this Damascus also Elisha, the P ro P^ who had healed NTaaman, afterwards came,* when tl markable scene occurred in which the prophet, seeing tl„ heart of Hazael thai was to,, false to see itself, "settled hu countenance steadfastly, until he was ashamed; and the man of God wept ! " Damascus is connected, moreover, will, the whole Christian world, for somewhere in this plai,, the Apostle Paul, al thai time an honest Jewish-Church fanatic, under the strong delusion whidi "believes a lie," ami thinking ho did God journeying to extirpate by the sword a dangerous I,,.--, which had arisen. There, beneath a brighl ooon-daj sun, he spoke with Christ, and became " Paul the Apostle," a name forever ball in the heart of the Christian Church. From Damascus in later years there went forth another power than his, a., army whi ch penetrated beyond the Bimalayah, and , stablished a dynasty at Delhi whirl,, hut as yesterday, after revealing the true and unchanged spirit of Mam. wa a swept awaj bj British bayonets, so that at this moment tin- last rays of tin sun which, rising in Damascus, so Ion- shone in India, g in the person of the hist Mogul, who is a transported convict in the Andaman [slands ! From Damascus othei conquering bands poured forth a stream of flashing scimitars an, I turbaned I along the Mediterranean; crossed to Europe; and Km for the "hammer" of Charles Martel, srerirj a judge in [srael wl aim was ma, I, ■ strong by a merciful God, the crescenl might have 2 Kings viii. 7. 290 EASTWARD. gleamed on the summit of great mosques in every European capital. The whole history of the city is marvellous, from the days of the soldiers of Babylon to the Zouaves of Paris— from early and oft-repeated atrocities committed on its inhabitants by successive conquerors down to the late massacre of Christians by its own citizens. But, strange to say, we cannot associate one greai action which lias blessed the world with anyone born in Damascus: the associations arc all of idolatry, cruelty, and blood- shed. Yet Damascus lives on, while the site of Capernaum is unknown! Let the traveller review all this strange history as he sits at the Wely gazing on the ancient city, and then, ere he goes to rest, himself a small link in this chain stretching into the darkness of the past, let him thank God that he has seen Damascus ! We spent a happy day in wandering through the city. 1 need not attempt to describe its famous bazaars. I cannot say that I admired them mure than those of Cairo, hut I thoroughly enjoyed them as a theatre exhibiting out-of-the-way lite, and as at every vard revealing such strange oriental groups of human beings gathered out of every tribe, such pictures of form and colour, of man and heast, of old fantastic buildings and Arabian-Night- looking Courts and Khans, of shops for every sort of ware and for every sort of trade ; such thinks, with ice from Lebanon to cool them : such sweetmeats, the very look of which would empty the pockets of all the schoolboys in Europe; such antique arms, beautiful cloths, dresses, shawls, carpets of every kind and colour, as would tempt the fathers and mothers of the boys to follow their example; — all this, and more than I can describe, kept me in a state of child-like wonder and excitement as J moved through the bazaars. Mv old friends the dogs seemed to me to make Damascus their capital I was amused at the table d'hdte of the hotel in hearing a dispute regarding the number of the canine race in Damascus. OUT OF PALESTINE. The question, discussed by two gentlemen \\li" bad I resided in the fit y, was whether the number of doga amounted to 200,000, or only L00,000, or L50,000. Somi numbers, hut all agreed that IOO. (H)() did nol fully represent the grand army, the possibility of being a soldier in whi< the high-minded Hazael. An illustration, moreover, « of Mahometan custom as applied to dogs. The law is, thai any one accidentally killing another person musl pay a fine as l»l I- money to his relations. But can this law apply to the killing of a dog - ? — not a Christian dog, who is worthless, bul a b dog, who is a useful scavenger. It must apply to doga say the Damascus police — but how? In this waj : a blood-money is valued at sixteen piastres. Well, the murderei ■■'■ a dog must forthwith report his crime to the police. The district in which the dog usually resided is then discovered, and the mur- derer must forthwith purchase bread with the bl l-money; and as the dog's relatives are very many and not easily ascertained, he must divide the bread among all the hungry mouths that, backed by wagging tails, may wait to receive it. We give this illustration of canon, or canine, law as we heard it. One object seen in passing along the streets 1 cannot forg and that was a famous old plane-tree forty feet in circumfi i There were others less noticeable, but adding beautj and to the thoroughfares and open paths. We went along the now dreary and dull B rtn once called "Straight"; which probably represents the old b made famous by the history of St. Paul. Vet this must I a stately thoroughfare in the time of the Romana The i pillars indicate that a colonnade once ran along each si old Roman gate in the south wall, by which the ^poetl entered, now opens to one side only of the old archway, and the other side-gate, are both built up. \ it from outside of the walls is given in the illustratioa 29 2 EASTWARD. Among the " sights" which engaged our attention was the greal mosque. It is needless, judging from the Lighl — or darkness— which I have myself gathered from minute descriptions of build- ings, to enter into any details regarding its fine courl and cistern, its surrounding cloisters, noble pillars, and all the evidences which it affords of having been once a grand Christian church. Tins fact is unquestioned. There can, moreover, yet be seen on a portion of the old building an inscription in Greek, which fills the traveller with many strange thoughts of the past and future, as he reads it. Being translated, it is this: "Thy kingdom, O Christ, is an everlasting kingdom, and Thy dominion endureth throughoul all generations.' A much-valued lady friend. Mrs. S , who had ac( ipanied us, with her son, Captain S , and Lord N , during portions of the journey in Palestine, visited the mosque along with us, guided by the Consul. That we were permitted to penetrate into the Eoly Place without tear— in spite of seme ugly Looking faqueers from India, who seemed to growl hate out of their rags and vermin— indicated a very remarkable change in Islam Jt arose out of political events winch those most affected by them could no men' understand, than a child can connect the ebb of the tide in an inland arm of the sea, with the great ocean beyond or with the moon above. The well-known American Missionary, ])r. Thomson, of Beyront, told me that he had accompanied the firsl British Consul into Damascus on horseback. They were protected by a strong guard. Before then every "Infidel" had been obliged to enter the Eoly City bare-headed, and on foot! Even Christian merchant, though possessing a fortune, was also compelled to rise in the presence of his Mahometan servant! ] g after this, and as late as the Crimean War, no one, except a Moslem, could enter the greal mosque <>n pain of death. Net so greal is the revolution caused either by the power of opinion, or by the fear of foreign bayonets, that, as 1 have said, we walked undisturbed through the mosque, Bimplj paying ba a guinea, I think — to oil the consciences of its orthod \\'li;i( a change is here ! We visited what was once the Christian quartei of th A more impressive sighl I never witnessed. < > 1 1 how dirTerei reading or hearing aboul any horror from actually witm I often, for example, had heard of slavery, and theoreticall) loathed it. But when a mother was once offered inr I'm- sale in A.mi and when, with honest tears, she begged me thai if I bough 1 h( I would buy her child, round which her arms were entwined, and not separate them, what was the burning shame I fell for a crime to destroy which millions of money and hundreds and thousands of lives have not in vain been sacrificed'. And so, I had 1 with sorrow of this massacre, and of the undying hate of orthodox and fanatical Islam. Yet how much more intense was m\ of this hate when I saw a large quarter of a greal city reduci d to powdered fragments of stone and lime, and walked through or stumbled over street upon street in a chaos of ruin -hearing in fancy the loud or stifled cries for mercy, and the unavailing Bhout of desperate defence, from nearly 3000 Christians, who for a nigfht were being butchered in cold hi 1 by these Marion demons ! That fearful massacre was the true expression of I-!. the logical application of its principle-. From Delhi '• - 1 wherever it dare reveal itself, its spirit is the same. N agree with those who think that this is the lasl of the ma The last sacrifice by Islam will be coincident with its lasl breat though there are, no doubt, Mahometans whose h, art- extent practically correct their creed, and who other men, better than their beliefs. But let me pass to more pleasing topica We via two private houses in Damascus, the Consul's among form some idea of the Oriental style of dom« I One has no suspicion when passing a common plai 294 EASTWARD. street, that on the other side of it may be a splendid palace. Every sign of what is within seems to be carefully concealed, lest it should attract the attention of the mob. A small door and narrow passage which mighl conduct to the obscure home of an artisan, lead to a dwelling in which any prince might reside, Few things struck me so much as the beauty, stateliness, and luxury of these houses. In the centre is a large court, floored with marble. A fine fountain sends up its crystal water, and trees till the air with perfume, and cool the ground with their shade Above is the blue sky, with heir and there a distant fleecy cloud. Into this court the public rooms open — not by doors, but by noble archways, li' we pass through one of these archways we find ourselves in an apartment with its own marble entrance and Hue fountain, and three high arches, opening into recesses on the ri-ht and left and in front. The floors are covered with rugs elevated above the level of the court. There are grand divans along their sides, with windows of coloured glass, while exquisite arabesque ornaments, in purple, blue, and gold, cover the walls and high roofs with intricate traceries and richest colour. Behind one couch we saw a tall of purest water, cooling the air, and passing under the floor to reappear in a fountain below. I have never seen any mansions which so fully realise the idea of a summer residence of perfect beauty. How much more mighl he made of this style amidst English scenery, and with an English family to give light and comfort to the rooms! Anxious to overtake the Austrian steamer from Beyrout to Smyrna, and finding that we might miss her if we waited tor the diligence, we resolved to post hack during the night. The only kind of conveyance which is placed at the disposal of the traveller i~ a tour-wheeled waggonette, with roof and curtains, and a seat along each side capable of accommodating three persons. We had tun and sometimes three horses, and were driven by,a tall jet- black Nubian. The Consul and a few friends saw us oft. and OUT OF PALESTINE. with kind consideration furnished us with an additional wrappci as night on the Lebanon might be ver\ cold 01 even 1 But all looked bright and promising for an hour or 30 aftei started. Then however the wind began to ri -<■. until oe w< it on the ridge of the Anti-Lebanon it blew a hurricane and the rain fell in torrents. 1 never was exposed to such a Btorm. soon the curtains, which partially sheltered us, were torn into ribands, and the roof did not protect us from the rain, which became sleet, and blew with a fierce and bitter bias! through the carriage. We had a strong double umbrella, under which we sought shelter for our heads as we spread it behind the back of the driver; but soon the umbrella was also shattered and torn My companion, who was not so well rigged as 1 for the began to suffer greatly from the cold ; hut as 1 had fortunately some spare clothes in a waterproof bag, I drew a pair of stout trousers over his own, (and be did not find mine to., ti'jlii ' ; a woollen shirt was tied over his head ; worsted stockings were supplied for gloves, and with one of the long cushions thrown ovi v him he was enabled in this picturesque garb to weather the tempest The Nubian showed marvellous endurance, as he drove bis two-in-hand or three-in-hand for thirteen hours. They were generally tine strong cattle, but once or twice they stopped, with a disposition to turn tail to the wind, and were with difficult} forced t" meel it. The Nubian would not " taste," as we say in Scotland, hut was thankful to have some brandy poured over his hands when benumbed by the snow on the mountain-top at midnight W • also, once or twice, when tilings looked very bad, gave tb fellow some good bacJcsheesh to keep up bis heart and Bpiri Wet, cold, and miserable though we were, ye1 the wondei appearance of the landscape ,-it sunrise roused ua up, W then winding our way over the Lebanon, and look,: Coele-Syrian plain to the ridge of Anti-Lebanon. The sun, with a red dare, was breaking through the wild rack of Btorm-clouds EASTWARD. which were rolling over the mountains. Above, to the zenith, they were black as night, bul gradually passed into a dull grey, and then into purple, thai with ragged edges and long detached locks of streaming hair, swept along the ground, on which ever and anon bright sunbeams lighted up green fields or some bit <>t' mountain scenery. Had the forests of all Lebanon been on (ire, and had their smoke, illumined by their flames, hern driven by a hurricane across the fields and hills, the effect could not nave been stranger or wilder. A- we came in sight of the Bay of Beyrout, about nine o'clock on Sunday morning, we saw evidences of the gale, in a French line-of-battle ship with struck masts, rolling her guns under ; while the other vessels, with less majesty hut with equal discomforl t<> their crews, seemed in danger of rolling their masts ever. It being thought prudenl t<> delay the sailing of the steamer in consequence <>f the storm, we had a refreshing sleep m the hotel, and then spenl the evening at the American mission house, where I had the happiness of conducting worship, and of meeting bre- thren with who-'- names I had been familial', and whose labours for many years have been earnest and full of blessing. Next day wo visited Dr. Vandyke in his literary den, where we found him engaged in bringing to a conclusion his great and learned work, the translation into Arabic of the Holy Scriptures. We also visited Several Schools, male and female, and were deeply interested ill seeing such proofs of eager desire for superior education on the part of boys and girls of every class, and of every faith; and with the thorough and efficient manner in which this desire has been met. The American mission prepared the way, quickened a taste for education among the people, and furnished good books and good teachers, yet for years found it up-hill work. It is the rapid development of commerce, which has been falling into the hands of the < Ihristian population, that now compels every young man, whether dew or ( rreek, I >ruse, Turk, or Maronite, to he "il OF PALI STINE educated, and to acquire some knowledge of Engli h i Ltalian. The American war, l>\ stimulating the culti cotton wherever its fibre will grow or labour can be found helped on education, which in its turn will product may lead to the fall of Mahometanism in Europe .-it l< to the political supremacy of the < Ihristian i The education of young women has followed the edu young men. Rich Christian husbands, who can m wife, must have one who can be an intelligent companioi soon it goes,! 5 with wonderful and increasing rapidity. The projected Syrian College will, when erected, as I ho] shall soon be, complete the work of education. I.- t me sume to express the hope thai the learned and admirable n I the Lebanon, who is now at the head of the taught school and boarding-house in Beyrout, may find a plat the College worthy of Ins Christian character, I dent labours. But the storm bad now moderated, and we had to leave th>- Syrian shore The view from the landing-place in the barbo Beyrout has probably been painted l>\ some artist capabl< justice to it ; but if not, it is worth the journej to do foreground of the harbour, with such studies of form and cannot be found in Europe; the quaint-looking houses; and the glorious Lebanon rising over the run or battery that shuts in the port from the North, form subject tor a picture of Eastern life and scenery. 1 could, like some romantic lady, have kissed the old land ere [ parted fi but satisfied with pocketing a pebble from it- shon I topped int.. the boat, and with many thanksgivings for the p Eastward and the B0I3 band for Northward an ■ rJ lb iv I must part with my readers, who have been Kind cm to accompany me " Eastward." I told them frankly at the 1 293 EASTWARD. ning of our intercourse that I had kept do journal, having had no intention of ever writing on the hackneyed subject; and I warned them besides to export no "information" from me, such as is afforded in so many admirable and learned volumes of Eastern travel. But I promised to describe what I saw in the land, and the real impressions made on my mind ; and 1 have endeavoured to fulfil my promise. I shall feel thankful if the intense enjoy- and lasting good which I myself have derived from this short tour shall bo shared in any degree by others. APPENDIX. No. I. Page 21. 'I'm; population of Alexandria is anderal I I ■ are Italians, and 10,000 Jews. The Greel mercantile houses amount to about twenty-five ; m cotton of E^ypt passes, of course, through Alexandria: I. be under cultivation, each acre yielding from 300 to COO lb. i an American mission to the Copts ami Mahometans, with a i school. The boys' school is well attended by the Copts, bul tin mentof the Viceroy's schools, which offer the advantage - of b tard, I • pay, has naturally drawn away the Mahometan boys. The \ aries have an Arabic service on Sundays, and recently the Arabic a i Li too large for tho room. The Church of Sootland has also an excel! ai mission in the city, superintended by my friend, Mr. Futile. Miss Ashley's girb about eighty scholars. The boys' school is also tolerably well is a "Bethel" ship in the harbour, belonging to the mission, whioh ■ - lias a large congregation, to which I had the pleasure of minis! Pasha granted a free site for a place of worship, which it Church of Scotland. Prussia is also erecting a new and oommodi The German Hospital has proved a greal bit ring. The p been informed, doing a good deal for education, and has founded a Lai of schools throughout the country two of them being in A pupils arc admitted Eree, and kepi ai the expense of thi I of them as enter the public Bervice are exempted from I Pasha also supports L50 priests in connection with hi- pie. No. II PAOB 17. A few hints regarding Palestine travel may be u». ful I who may intend visit in;;- the Bast. The possibility of risiting Sinai en rout* to Pali Cairo, owing to the unsettled state of the trih perfectly accurate information upon this point can i>, A steamer, weekly, ai Least, leaves Alexandria for tin I '-•■ !■ at Jaffa ; Or— if the weather i~ bad. and that • entered at Caipha in t lie Kay of Acre, and under t! time occupied in the voyagt from Alexandria to Jaffa i- 300 APPENDIX. ■ in can be easily reached from Jaffa in eight hour- by R imleh, and in twelve hours by the more interesting route of the two Beth-horons andNeby Samwil. A party may hire a dragoman at Cairo; but a good one may very possibly be obtained from the hotel-keeper at Jaffa, or even at Jerusalem. A single traveller ought not to engage one until he reaches Jerusalem. The pay for a dragoman at present is ab »ut thirty shillings a day for each person of a party of ab rat five, it' the engagement be for at least thirty days. The dragoman provides tents, horses, mules, and all the provisions required, including the payment of the bills in the one or two hotels in which the traveller can reside. He pays also backsheesh, guards, everything in short, except perhaps his fare to Jaffa (if hired at Cairo) or back fare from Beyrout. Travelling by Sinai, the traveller Bhould be more liberal with his backsheesh than the dragoman. Not so in Syria. The dragoman should never be permitted to divert a traveller from any route agreed upon, or which he may wish to take. In spite of some infirmities of conduct, for which others were fully as much to blame as himself, we found our dragoman, Hadji Ali, a very honest and trustworthy fellow: but with all of them a strict bargain should be made before starting, and they need to be carefully watched as well as kindly treated during the journey. We would recommend the traveller before beginning his tour in Palestine, to make a very careful survey of the girths of his saddles, and the backs of bis b irse s, which are often in a horrid state. Those who wish to ride with comfort ought to provide an English saddle, with good girths and crupper. Two pairs of trousers partially lined with chamois leather should be provided for riding. A bag and portmanteau are not too much luggage; a pith hat and white canvas shoes are comfortable ; a Sc >tch plaid indispensable. The traveller should carry a revolver : it looks heroic, fierce, and dangerous ; but it is much safer for himself and others, much more economical, as well as more agreeable for all parties, that he should the powder and ball in England till his return. A medicine chest is also very useful and respectable, provided it is never used except when the cook or muleteer wishes to avail himself of some of its " unemployed operative-.'' If any man has the courage not only to brave the dangers of that "great ainl terrible wilderness," but also the anathemas of the" Anti-Tobacco Society," I would advise him to buy his cigars in England, should he be so foolish as to buy cigars anywhere. If. further, he can defy t he Teetotal League and the great prophel of Mecca, he will find a little good cognac at the end of along day's journey helpful to hi., •• often infirmities." Better far if he can with equal comfort dispense with both of these appliances. A pound or t wo of good tea from England should be added to his store. We also recommend him to take with him not only Dean Stanley's " Palestine," which is essential, but also his " Lectures on the Jewish ( Ihurch." " The Land and the Book," the la-t edit ion of Robinson, ami the articles f.n Palestine and the Holy Sepulchre in Smith's Dictionary, will be also useful. For the sake of the nervous I may -tat - that there is really no danger whatever, nor any discomfort, to any Bensible and healthy man in journeying throughout all Palestine : it can be done with perfect ease. And for the sake of the married, I may add, that any healthy lady up to fifty, even though she has never been on APPENDIX. horseback since she was a1 Bohool, maj aooompanj i sedate and willing to bake things quietrj l i m B diligence will com ej in a Damascus. " Touching the ooined aey/'as Dona a ■ reigns are the best coin all the world over : the oirculai easily cashed al Jerusalem or Beyrout. Finally, a lar • M with sides only inflated and these aboul ten incheedeep can lx [>u small space, and will be found al Bea and on Land No. mi Page 112. The following is Dr. Stanley's ax onl of the Bat from his " Lectures on the Jewish Church Pari I " which ma have not access to the volume, will read with in:. "The Battle of Beth-horon or Gibeon is one of the n history of the world ; and yet bo profound has been the indiffen religious world, and then (through their example or influcno ■ I I world, to the historical study of the Eebrew annals, thai I great battle is Ear less known to most of as than I "It is one of the few military engagements which belong equallj I siastical and to Civil History — which have decided equally t 1 ■ - world and of the Church. The roll will be complete if to thu m idd I more which we shall encounter in the .Jewish II -• battle of the Milvian Bridge, which involved the fall of Pa Poitiers, which sealed the fall of Ariani-m : tie I rise of Mahometanism in Asia; the haul.- of Tours, which < Mahometanism in Western Europe; the battle • Eastern Europe; the battle of Luteen, which determined the I between Roman I lal holicism and Protestantism In <;• rmany. "The kings of Palestine, each in his little mo of early Greece, crowded th her in the plain when they were summoned to the Trojan war. were rou« the approaches to their territory In the Jordan valley and in the puna* from it were in the hand of the enemy. Those who occupied th the crisis was yet more imminent when they heard of the i Jebus, or Jerusalem, ev; u in those ancieni times, [ts chief took the lead of the hostile oonfederacj I' Was not the invading army, but the traitor- al i was besieged. The continuance or the raising of thi Orleans in the ofteenth century, and Vi< una in th. turning question of the war. The irammons ol thi G urgent as words can describe, and gives the k 'Slack not thy hand from ih.v servants; oom< up to us qv help us; for all the kim- of the Amoritea that dwell in thi APPEN DIX. gathered together againsl as.' Not a moment was to in- l< >>.t . As in the battle of Marathon, everything depended on the suddenness of the blow which should break in pieces the hostile confederation. On the former occasion of Joshua's viMi to Gibeon, it had been a three days' journey from Gilgal, as according to the slow par.' of eastern armies and caravans it might well be. But now, by a forced march, 'Joshua came onto them suddenly, and went up from Gilgal all night.' When tin- sun rose behind him, he was already in the open ground at the foot of the 1 1 « i u lit-- of Gibeon, where the kings were encamped (according to tradition) by a spring in the neighbourhood. The towering hill at the foot of which Gibeon lay. rose before them on the west. The besieged and the besiegers alike were taken by surprise. "As often before and after, so now, ' not a man could stand before' the awe ami the panic of the sudden sound of that terrible shout— the sudden appearance of that undaunted host, who came with the assurance 1 1« >t 'to fear, nor to be dismayed, but to 1"- strong and of a g 1 courage, for the Lord had delivered their enemies into their hands.' The Canaanites fled- down the western pass, and * the, Lord discomfited them before lsra-1, and slew them with a great slaughter at Gibeon, and chased them along the way that goeth up to Beth-horon.' This was the first stage <>t' the flight. It is a long rockj ascent, sinking and rising more than mice before the summit is reached. From the summit, which is crowned by the village of Upper Beth-horon, a wide view opens over the valley of Ajalon, of 'Stags' or 'Gazelles,' which runs in from the plain of Sharon. Jaffa, Etamleh, Lydda, are all visible beyond. " • And it came to pass, as they fled before Israel, and were in the going down to Beth-horon, that the Lord cast down great -tones from heaven upon them unto A/.ckah.' This was the second stage of the flight. The fugitives had outstripped the pursuers; they had crossed the high ridge of Beth-horon the Upper; thej w< re in full flight to Beth-horon the Nether. It is a rough, rocky road, sometimes over the upturned edges of the limestone strata, sometimes over sheets of smooth sometimes over loose rectangular stones, sometimes over steps cut in the rock. It was as they fled down the slippery descent, that, as in the fight of Barak 3 i i'n, a fearful tempest, ' thunder, lightning, and a deluge of hail,' broke over the disordered ranks-, 'they were more which died of the hailstones than they whom the children of Israel slew with the sword.' " So, as it would seem, ended the direci narrative of this second stage of the flight. But at this point, as in the caseof the defeat of Sisera, we have one of those openings, as it were, in the structure of the Sacred history, which reveal to as a glimpse of another, probably an older, version, lying below the surface of the narrative. In the victory of Barak we have the whole account, first in prose and then in verse. Eere we have, in like manner, first, the prose account ; and then, either the same events, or the events immediately following, related in poetrj taken from one of the lost hooks of the original canon of the Jewish church, the book of Jasher. "On the summit of the pass, where i> now the hamlet of the Upper Beth- boron, looking far down the deep descent of the Western valleys, with the green A I'M NDIX. vale of Ajalon Bfcretehed out in the distance, and the widi ■ berranean Sea beyond, stood, as is intimated, thi i rushing down, in wild confusion, the Amoriti ho I around people of w.-ir and .-ill his mights """ of valour.' Behind him ■■■ w,li( ' 1 ' u ' ul Gibeon bhe now rescued Gibe iom hi I fhl U high above those hills, ' in the tnidsl of heaven,' for thedaj had since he had emerged from his aight march through thi front, over the western vale of Ajalon, maj h waning moon, visible above the hailstorm driving up from thi distance. Was the enemy to escape in safety, or was thi speed with which J had ' come quickly, and saved and helped' his defend before bhe close- of thai day, by a signal and dechrivi " It is doubtless so standing on thai lofty emu «, with < . and spear, as on the hill above Ai, thai the Eeroappean in thi the Book of Ei i Thru spake Joshua unto Jehovah In the day ' thai God gave up the Amorite [nto the hand of Csrael,' | l.\ \ i When Ee discomfited them in Gibeon, ' Ami they were discomfited before the face of Israel.' l.\ \ And Joshua said : ' Be thou still,' <> Sun. upon Gibeon, And thou, Moon, upon the valley o1 Ajalon ' And i he Sun was si ill. \ nd bhe Mood - Until • the aal ion ' (or IA X. ' until Gi 'I ' | had aies. \ud bhe sun stood in 'thi perj midsl And li:i -t< d not I" gO doV And i here was no day liki .1 1 . ii i >\ \ ii heard bhe For .1 i:ii"\ am Foughl for I And Joshua returned, and all [srael with him, onto So IV. Paqi All the greal fiats ordained ; .. Mow kepi Stanley and Mr. Mills both witnessed thi • given minute ace ts oi it, I quote the folli i in I BGO. I mas hi n saj thai thi b< I gnlar people i- bo be found in Mr. Mills' i k, " N tans.*' Murray. 1864. •• on thi ti mil of bhe month the sacrificial Ian either i-.M- o latti r bi in They must be a year old, males, and ' without blcmufa ' 1 304 APPENDIX. according to the muni., c of persons who are likely to be able to keep the Feast. At pp -> :u they are five or six, as the case may be. Duringthe following days, which are days of preparation, these are carefully kept, and cleanly washed a kind of purification to tit them I'm- the paschal service ; a rite, in all probability, always observed in connection with the temple service (John v. 1 >. Early on the morning oi the fourteenth day. the whole community, with lew exceptions, close their dwellings in the city, and clamber up Mount Gerizim : and on the top of this their most sacred mountain, pitch their tints in a circular form, there to celebrate ili>' most national of all their solemnities. . . 1 and the friends who had joined me al Jerusalem, had pitched our tent in the valley, at the foot of Gerizim ; and on the morning of the -1th of .May we clambered up the mountain. On reaching the encampment friendly voices greeted us from several tents, and having visited those best known to us, we rested for awhile with our friend Amram. Presently we took a stroll up to the temple ruins, and from thence had a perfect view of the interesting scene. . . The tent-. Mi in number, were arranged in a kind of circle, to face the high si point of the mountain, where their ancient temple stood, but now lying in ruins. Within a radius of a few hundred yards from the place win re 1 stood, eiu-t. r< d all the spots which make Gerizim to them the most sacred moun- tain, the house of Cod. . . About half-past ten, the officials went forth to kindle the fire to roast the lambs. For this purpose, a circular pit is sunk in the earth, al» ut six feet deep and three feetin diameter, and built around with loose stones. In this fire, made of dry heather, and briars, Sec., was kindled, during which time Ya< ub sto i d upon a large stone, and offered up a prayer suited for the occasion. Another lire was tin □ kindled in a kind of sunken trough, close by the platform where the service was to he performed. Over this, two cauldrons full of water were placed, and a short prayer offered. . . There were forty-eight adults, he-sides women and children ; the women and the little ones remaining in the tents. The on were in their ordinary dress, with the exception of the two officers and two or three of the elders, who were dressed in their white robes, as in the synagogue. A carpet was laid on the ground near the boiling cauldrons, where Yacub stood to read the service, assisted by some of the elders — all turning their faces toward- tin- site of the temple. Six lambs now made their appearance, in young men who drove them. These young men were dressed in blue rob s of unbleached calico, having their loins girded. Yacub, whilst repeat- ing the sen- ice, stood on a large stone in front of the people, with his face towards them. . . At miil-day, the service had reached tin- place where the account of 3< hal sacrifice is introduced : ' And the whole assembly of the congregation of [srael -hall kill it in the evening' (Exod. xii. 6) ; when, in an instant, one of the lambs wa- thrown on its back by the hlue-elad young men, and the shurhrt, one of their number, with his dashing knife, did the murderous work with rapidity. I -' 1 close by on purpose to see whether he would conform to the rabbinical the work was done so quickly thai I could observe nothing more than that In- made two out-. The ot her 1 am I is wen- despatched in the same manner. Whilst the six were thus lying together, with their hlood streaming From them, and in their Last convulsive struggles, the young ahochetim dipped their lingers in APPENDIX the blood, and marked a spot on the foreheads and i same waa done to some of the females , bul to no. f ,),.• , wl1 " 1 '' '"''l'' l gregation ao\i oame up oloae I i the kissed one another, in congratulation thai the lambs I 3lain. Next came the fleeoing of the lam young men nowoarefully poured the boiling their fleeces. Each lamb was then lifted up, with H head- the remaining blood. The righl fore-legs, which belonged • , • removed, and placed on the wood, already laid for th« entrails, and salt added, and then burnt •. but the liver The inside being Bprinkled with salt, and 11... hamsti next process was that of spitting. Fortius pur] th< j h I was thrust through from head to (ail, near the bottom of whi. h peg, to prevent the body from slipping off. The lambs w< oven, which was by this time well beated Entothisthej so that the sacrifices might not be denied by< dug into itself. This accomplished, a hurdle, prepared for thi purpo month of the oven, well covered with moistened earth, to prev< escaping. By this time, it was about two o'clock, and this par; i I ended. At sunset, the service was recommenced. All the male pop the lads, assembled around the oven. A large copper dish, filled with cakes and bitter herbs rolled up together, was held by Phineaa Bi of the priest; when, presently, all being assembled, he distrib b the congregation. The hurdle was then removed, and the lambs di . by one ; but, unfortunately, one fell off the spit, and «> taki n up v. ■ Their appearance was anything but inviting, they being burnt as bla Carpets were spread ready to receive them ; they were then :• from where the service was read. Being strewn over with l.itt. r gation stood in two files, the lambs being in a line between thi adults had now a kind of rope around the waist, and Btaves in their h . had their shoes on. ' Thus shall ye eat it ; with your 1 'in- girded, ] your feet, and your staff in your hand * ( Exod. xii. 1 1 }. Th( formed by Amram, which continued for about fifteen minutes ; and when I repeated the blessing, the congregation at once stooped, and, as it in hunger, tore away the blackened massi d with their I'm. tions to the females and little ones in the tents. In less than ten minub • I with the exception of a few fragments, had disappeared Thi and placed on the hurdle, and the area carefully examini up, together with the bones, and all burnt over a fire handled for th< | trough, where the water had been boiled. ' And ye -hall !■ I until the morning; and that which remaineth of it until the burn with fire ' (Exod xii. 10). Whilst the flam* the remnant of the paschal lambs, the p op tents." BRADBI BY, I '