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JVAYNE S. VUC1NICH ' • „

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WAYNE S. VUCINICH

E A S T W A 11 1)

By NORMAN MACLEOD, d.d.

USE OF HER MAJESTY'S CHAPLAINS.

WITH SEVENTY ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, ENGRAVED
11 V JOSEPH SWAIN

ALEXANDER STRAHAN, PUBLISHER
LONDON AND NEW YORK

1866

Jos

I ONDOK :
BRADBURY, EVANS, AM. CO., PRINTERS, WHTTEFRIARS.

MY .

TO YOU I DEDICATE THIS BOOK,

WITH A LOVE

"WHICH I CAN GIVE TO YOU ALONE.

WITHOUT YOU IN MY HOME,

I NEVER COULD HAVE PARTED FROM IT WITH SO LITTLE CARE,

NOR HAVE RETURNED TO IT WITH

SO MUCH JOY.

CONTENTS.

I. -TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA 1

II.— CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS 2-2

HI.— CAIRO AND THE RED SKA 18

IV.— JAFFA < :;

V— NEBY SAMWIL 98

VI.— JERUSALEM- WITHIN THE WALKS 117

VII.-JERUSALEM— WITHOUT THE WALLS .... 160

VI II.— THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF JERUSALEM . . . . 190

IX.— A DAY'S RIDE SOUTH FROM JERUSALEM . . 208

X.— BETHLEHEM TO SAM AH I A 225

XL— SAMARIA TO TIBERIAS 211

XIL— OUT OF PALESTINE 267

APPENDIX 299

TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA.

! $k

was not ordered by " the doctors
to visit the East for the good of my
health, which, I am thankful to
say, was and continues to be ex-
cellent; nor was I deputed by the
Church to which I have the honour
to belong to undertake a mis-
sionary tour ; nor did I propose to
myself the vain attempt of writing
a book describing the Easl for the
thousandth time, whether in the
form of " letters," "tour," "diary,"
"sketches," "thoughts," or "pic-
tures." I even protested to my
excellent publisher and fellow tra-
veller against preparing a single
article for the pages of "Good
Words." I went to visit Palestine, "the place of my fathers 1
sepulchres;" and no one will be disposed to ask a reason for my
undertaking such a journey.

But there is something so fascinating about the East, that it is
hardly possible for the traveller to resist the cacoethea scribendi,
that he may in sumo measure share his enjoyment of it with others.

Sim t View in Malta.

! -\s rWAR D.

In spite of the conviction, then, thai nothing new can be written
about the East by a burried tourist, that all that one can say 1ms
doubtless been said far better by some other before, thai only the
scholar, the antiquary, or the artisl can reveal new facts or new
beauti< s, the impression still remains thai we maybe able to give
Borne pleasure by telling, as by the fireside, whal we saw and
enjoyed, to the invalid, or the weary man, who may be unable to
■ xner stuff." I would respectfully ask such to accompany
Eastward.

I. ■ me inform those who have not " Bradshaw " by them, that
Alexandria is the starting-point to Palestine fur all travellers ap-
proaching it from the west. This port may be readied by the
admirable steamers of Mr. M'lver, from Liverpool, or by the
Peninsular and Oriental Company's steamers from Southampton,
and a glimpse of < ribraltar be got < n route. To those who enjoy a
ve, and to whom a few days' extra time is of no conse-
quence, this route is by far the easiest. The shortest sea passage
is by Ancona, to which there is now a continuous line of railway
from Turin. There is also communication twice a month from
Marseilles to Alexandria by the first-rate steamers of the French
Messageries Impe'riales Company, as well as by those of the old
and favourite Peninsular and Oriental Company. The expense
by either route is much the same, everything taken into accounl ;
perhaps, upon the whole, that by Marseilles is the cheapest.
>. 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

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

"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't<r taking a short stroll to Look al the stars, and observing
tli.it there was as yet no gas in Alexandria with all its progress
and wealth, but that every one was obliged by law to carry a
Lantern, we retired to bed.

TO MALTA AND ALEXANDRIA.

We there met n few friends, whose acquaintance we had made
in other portions of the civilised world ; but, fortunately, owing to
the cool state of the weather, they did not press their company
upon us so as to be numbered amongst the plagues <>f 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

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. <t 1i in_:\ with a little patch of wolf-skin under it, at least
when having to deal with the Pasha ; men of travel too, who have
been poking through every part of creation, and whose tents are
all pitched under the trees opposite the hotel, as they intend to
start en a journey to Sinai, or whose boat is ready to proceed to
Luxor and the t lataracts; Americans of coarse too, from the North
and Smith, and clergy from the same western land with silk waist-
and immense clerical respectability ; and clergy besides from
all lands, some dressed as if descended from the pulpit, and some
as if they had never entered it.

We have some things to see in Cairo, but we must in the first
place "do" the Pyramid-, and pay our respects to these old mys-
terious piles of stone in the desert which people were wondering
at before Abraham was born.

The donkey-hoys w ) 10 gather around Shepherd's hotel, and seem
to be there day and uight, make a rush at every stranger who
gives any sign of going oul to see the sights. The moment
one descends the steps, he has a confused impression of a
crowd of round, black faces, mixed with asses' heads; while
from all sides proceed shouts and screams of " Very fine donkey,"
" This donkey be Yankee Doodle," "Dan Tucker," "Jem Crow,"
"Snooks," "Billy Taylor," "Jack and Gill," or some other
name suitable to the supposed nationality or taste of the person
besieged.

Mounted on very good donkeys, selected by a nice lad named
II an, a well-known hanger-on a1 the hotel, and one of John
Bull's "rascals, sir!" we se1 oflf for the Pyramids. My donkey
was -mall and strong, but in the saddle I saw nothing of him
i ■■.'■• | 'i his ears. The ride at firsl is through the scattered suburbs
of Cairo. Passing through these we came to a mound of rubbish
which, as I was informed, marked the Babylon of Egypt. We

CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS.

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

$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,

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<

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 ' <an sail. Poetry is ever in advance of what is called
" progress," though ever present to idealise it when it becomes
prosaic. Had time permitted of our choosing between the came]
and "first-class," we might probably have chosen the former, and
thus obeyed the poetic instinct As it was, however, we accepted
the conventional and swifter mode of travel, and booked our-
selves for Suez. 1 am not sure that the Patriarchs, in similar
circumstances, would not have done the same. And why not? A
distinguished English prelate, bo the story goes, was accosted, when
entering his comfortable carriage, by an excellent Mrs. Coup,
who, assuming that comfort and Christianity were necessarily
opposed, suggested the delicate inquiry as to what the Apostles
would say were they to see one who professed to be their successor
travelling in such luxury. "I think it not unlikely," was the

CAIRO AND THE RED SEA 49

meek and wise reply of the worthy bishop, "thai they would
thankfully acknowledge how much improved the times are Bince
their dayl" So we felt, in remembering the past, as we entered
the railway for Suez.

We naturally expected tn lose all sense of the deserl uol once
to come under its spell —in our journey through it by rail. But it
was really not so. No railway associations obtruded themselves
upon our notice, excepl the long moving shadow upon the sand.

We Seemed to lie alone ill the \\ i |i lel'liesS, (ll'HWl) along by a power

which, from the \ < r\ .scenery through which we passed, had a
strange air of novelty and mystery aboul it. There were no well-
Imilt Btation-houses, like Swiss cottages, bu1 only wooden huts at
greal intervals, which stood alone and solitaryin the arid waste,
without a name to distinguish them from each other in the bound-
expanse of sand. They are simply numbered like milestones.
Such buildings tail to give any life to the scene, ami excite in us
only feelings of pity for the hermits who inhabit them, and whose
duties consist, not in conning over breviaries, or in helping forlorn
travellers, but in adjusting switches and in supplying water and
fuel to thirsty and hungry steam-engines puffing through the
sweltering heat.

The railway changed the scenery of the desert no more than a
balloon changes the scenery of the clouds. Once out of Cairo, we
were in the ocean of sand and desolation, as much as a ship out of
Plymouth is in the ocean of green water. We passed across the
characteristic flinty ground of the real desert ; we saw rolling hills
of tawny, almost golden sand, like yellow snowhills, drifted and
smoothed by the winds, and as if never trodden by the foot of
man. We saw troops of light gazelles bounding along with elastic
step as they fled in terror from the mysterious monster that
rushed snorting towards them from the horizon. We saw in great

beauty more than one mirage, fully realising all we had ever
heard of its deceptive likeness to large pools or lakes of water.

5o EASTWARD.

with shores indented by tiny bays and jutting promontories, and
with a hazy brightness over them singularly picturesque. Wo
>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-

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 ".</< ; and n would not
require man; lambs for such a BacramentaJ feast, more especially it" by "house is
in. 'ant, not a habitation, but a family or clan. These and other points in the
narrative are very well discussed by myfriend the Rev. George Sandie, in his
•• Eon ii and Jerusalem."

f My brother, minister of Linlithgow, who was one of our party, had, on a
former journey to Jerusalem, vid Sinai, travelled from < lairo to Sues by this route,
and had no doubt regarding its impracticability for the [sraelites.

5 8 EASTWARD.

road to Palestine lay between the head of the Gulf of Suez and
the Mediterranean, thence along the coast of Philistia. We are
told, however, thai "God led them not through the way of the
land of the Philistines, although that was near ; for God said, Lest
peradventure the people repent when they see war, and they return
to Eoypt But God led the people about, through the way of the
wilderness of the Red Sea." So at last they found themselves,
some <lavs after leaving Rameses, with the Red Sea between them
and their destination, encamped "before Pi-hahiroth, between
Migdol and the sea, over against Baal-Zephon," wherever those
places were. The facts which we have to deal with in the
narrative are, that somewhere or other they were obliged to cross
tho Red Sea; that they did so; that the sea stood up in heaps,
or like a wall, on their right hand and their left, by the power of
God exercised at the word of Moses ; and that Israel escaped,
while the whole Egyptian army was drowned.

( 'an we now-a-days on any good grounds settle where that
crossing took place ?

Some hold that the narrow portion of the gulf immediately
above or below Suez meets the conditions of the narrative. With
great respect for those who differ from me, I humbly think
not. It is not two miles broad, and is so very shallow that
at low water it can be crossed by camels. Nor is there any
reason to think that it has been materially changed during the
historical era, since the remains of the old canal of Sesostris can
still be traced from the Nile to the present head of the gulf.
Making full allowance also for what could have been effected
by ebb tides, of which there is no mention in Exodus, and for
en t winds, which could not divide deep water, it is more difficult
to accomrl in that case for the destruction of the Egyptian army
than for the deliverance of Israel.

A we sailed down the gulf, and gazed at the formation of the
western shore, the narrative appeared to us, as it has done to

CAIRO AND THE RED SEA.

many on the same spot, bo receive interpretation. Along thai

western shore there is, as we have said, a range of wild precipices,

forming the "Jebel Attaka," which is the

''butt end" of the MLokattam hills. This range

rises abruptly from the deserl in the aorth, and

is from 2000 to 3000 feel above the level of the

shore. It runs foraboul nine or ten miles along

the coast, and, looking at it from the sea, has

the contour delineated— partly from memory —

in the accompanying sketch.

Between these wild, rough, broken preci-
pices, impassable by human toot, and the sea,

there is a flat plain several miles broad at its

northern end (next to Suez), which narrows

towards the point, or " Ras Attaka," where,

at a spot called by the Arabs, Wady-Edeb,

it is of the breadth of from one to two miles.

Now, on the supposition that the Israelites

encamped on the plain marked B, A, no wonder

that Pharaoh — seeing them in such a position,

flanked by precipices to the right, the deep

sea to the left, with an amphitheatre of steep

blufis shutting them up to the south -should

exclaim : " They are entangled in the land,
the wilderness hath shut them in!" Form-
ing a cordon in their rear, with his 600
war chariots stretching between the Attaka

;Hm1 tin' Sea, he W'ollld feel SeClllV of his

prize, and mighl say, as Napoleon did oi
the English at Waterloo, "At last 1 have

them '. " Th<\ seemed to all human appear-
ance to have hen caught in a trap from which there was no
deliverance. "Thejwere >hut up," says Josephus, " between the

;3?V;

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

fc!
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« <t wit hunt difficulty) I
dragged to land, and found myself in Palestine. I cannol -.'•. thai
] was wanting in emotion, ye1 il was emotion in no way kindled
by the spot I trod upon, but by the villanous crowd who
surrounded me, forcing every thoughl into one uncontrollable
desire to be delivered from these Philistines. With thanksgiving
I heard my name shouted by my old friend Dr. Philip, to whom I
had written from Scotland, and who was waiting for me to guide
me to his hospitable home, about a mile from the town. II.
a horse ready for me; so leaving our dragoman — ol whom more
anon — and all my friends, except Mr. Strahan, another old
acquaintance of our host, we immediately proceeded to "the
Mission Farm." We seen go1 clear of the town, and then as we
paced along on the yielding, sandy read, with a rich aroma per-
fuming the air from orange groves and ether odoriferous trees th«-
fact began to dawn slowly open me that I was a1 lasl really in the
Holy Land and treading the plain of Sharon : and so in silence,
and with deepest gratitude, I followed our leader in the way.

It was a great happiness and blessing to enter thai house; i"
meet happy children at the door; to hear their merry, innocenl
voices echoing through the vaulted arches ol thai Easten
English home. Bachelors do no1 understand the fascinati
of children. A fathei only, as he gathers them aboul hue
gets the voung ones on his knees and tells them Ktories, and lo »ks
into their pure and beautiful eyes, and hears them tell all thai

So EASTWARD.

interests them— which the Times would care nothing about—
.•an understand the refreshment to the spirit of getting quit of
hotels and steamers, of the fever of ceaseless movement, of sight-
seeing, and of the bore of acquiring accurate information about
things nearly as old as creation,— a father only ran understand
tin- pleasure of tin-, and of once more being among"the bairns."
Blessings be ou the sweet group at the Jaffa farm !

I ascended the house-top alone at night, and then— how could
it be else ?— the delightful fueling grew upon me — "I am in Pales-
tine! This is no dream!" Little could be seen except the stars,
which scintillated in the calm brilliancy of an Eastern night, To
me they were for a time exclusively Palestine stars, and part of
that landscape only. The "plough'' alone connected me with
home, and I felt a friendly Scotch feeling to it. The dee], silence
of the night was broken only by the sea, which came booming in
low, hollow sounds from the shore, as it did in the days of Jonah,
or as when heard by Peter while journeying from Jaffa to Caesarea
along the old sandy tract which passed near our dwelling.

Early next morning we went to Jaffa, and then tor the first
time I saw "the Land" under the full blaze of the sun. The
atmosphere was delicious, and the sky cloudless. The first impres-
sion made upon me, as upon every traveller, was the marvellous
richness, the orchard-beauty of the neighbourhood. The path
wound between rows of cacti the opuntia), or prickly pears, vary-
in- from three or tour to fifteen feet in height; and one could not
help pausing to look at their greal soft fibrous stems fringed with
leaves ! resembling thick green cakes or •' bannocks " stuck with
iieedh-, and forming ;i defence through which the breeze can pass
in full volume, hut quite impervious to man or beast. The
gardens of fruit-bearing trees are the glory of Jaffa. There are
endl< 38 groves of oranges and lemons, apricots, pomegranates, tigs,
and olives, with mulberry and acacia tree-, the stately palm tower-
ing above them all. 1 was informed that there are about three

hundred and fifty gardens around this old town, the Bmalled being
three or tour acres in extent, the largest ten or twelve. Of these
gardens two hundred and fifty have one well, and about one
hundred two wells each. Each well employs aboul three animals,

who work day and night for six months in the year, and draw
each about one thousand cubic feet of water in the twenty-four
hours. This gives one some idea of the " water-privileges," as the
Yankees would say, of the Plain of Sharon ; and I believe the
same abundance of water is procurable from the whole ,,\' the I'hilis-
tian plain, which accounts for its present fertility, and, to some
extent, for its ancient wealth and the number of its inhabitants.
About, eight millions of oranges aregrown every pear in the gardens
around Jaffa. Several hundreds are borne by a single tree, and are
sold wholesale at an average of little more than three-pence the
hundred. In retail, ten are sold for a penny in .Jaffa. An orangi -
grove gave me the idea of rich and luxuriant fruitfulness more
than any other sight I ever beheld. The number of oranges which
can hang from a single twig is remarkable. The accompanying
engraving is an exact representation in all respects of one I broke

off with four adhering to it. The size, too, of the fruit is extra-
ordinary, averaging ten to twelve inches in circumference, while
some reach seventeen inches. Even the apricots, we were in-
formed, sometimes attain the size of fifteen inch'-. The colour, as
well as the size of the fruit, and the immense clust< ra which loaded
every tree, made the grove much more impressive than the vine-

8a LAST WAR I).

yard, in spite of all its hanging bunches of luscious grapes. We
saw them harvesting the fruit. It was carried by merry boys and
girls, in large basketfuls, and laid in heaps. I confess that my
tir-t thought was what a paradise this would be for our Sundav-
school children on their annual holiday. What a luxury to be
allowed, not to suck the sour fruit purchased with their only half-
penny from a barrow in the street, but to bury their whole face,
gratis, in a succession of those immense fountains of ripe and
delicious juice ! Milk and honey would be nothing to it. Tkey
would never feel disappointed with Palestine! The ideal would
be lost in the real, until at least a dozen oranges were consumed,
and they had time to breathe and meditate.

The only disappointing thing about an orange-grove, or any

garden which I saw in the East, was the roughness of the ground.

It is cut up into trenches for the purpose of irrigation. Velvety

3S exists not : this would make the retreat perfect.

Outside of the gate of Jaffa was a place I would have liked well

to have lingered at. It is a large open space, vanishing into the

country, and tilled with all the picturesque Oriental nondescripts

to whom 1 have alluded in former pages, and who, from crown to

heel, had to me an undying interest. To the usual crowd which

was i sver moving in that open space, with camels, donkeys, horses,

and oxen, were added troops of horses which for weeks and months

had been constantly passing from every part of the country along

the plain, by the old road to Egypt, rid Gaza, to supply the

immense losses sustained there from the murrain. Most of those

■ ••■. wore very inferior cattle, and represented but the dregs of

the land, yel were selling at large, and, for the East, exorbitant

prices. The strange-looking characters that accompanied them

represented the lowest conceivable grade of horse-dealers: their

being a study for the physiognomisl as well as the artist.

W i preferri d Btudying them by sunlight rather than moonlight.

The lii-t place in Jaflfa which the traveller naturally desires to

J A F F A.

visit is the traditional house of Simon the tanner, in which the
Apostle Peter lived. A portion of it at Leasl is evidently a modern
building, but it' it is not the old bouse, it is nevertheless well
worth visiting from the characteristic view which is obtained from
its flat roof. Standing there, I felt myself for the Orel time
brought into local contact, as it were, with those persons and facts
in Gospel history with which every Christian is familiar— which
occupy the everyday thoughts and most solemn moments -l a
minister's life and teaching, and which, as he travels through
Palestine, seem to become incarnate, to pass from written pages
and to clothe themselves in the visible garb of mat, rial scenes
to be brought down from the world of spirit and of abstrad truth
into the real world in which they once Lived and moved, only from
thence to be raised again and made more real and Living to the
thoughts than before. It is associations like these, constantly
suggested by the objects which every hour meet the eye and stir
theniemory of the traveller, that make the land " holy," sobering
the mind, and investing every day with the hallowed sunlight and
atmosphere of the Lord's day.

But to return to the house-top at Jaffa. The quarter of the
town where it is, with the general idea of the town itself and
the harbour, will be understood better from the engraving oi
Jaffa on the opposite page, than from any verbal descripti<
The house is close to the sea-wall, and Looks to the south, from
which the view is taken. The whole landscape, a. seen from
the roof, is instructive. Along that winding shore, and not
from the town, tanners still ply their trade; and they may have
done so since the days of the Apostle. Tanworks, if tl
at all, would probably be always where they new are, from I
fact that a current steadily sets along the coast from nort
south, which sweeps the refuse of the works clear of the town a
small harbour, while it would have had the opposite effect had I
works been ( »n the nmth shore. Simon's house, wherever U

8 4 EASTWARD.

may have passed away, but one fact, at least, suggested by it,
remains for our strength and comfort, that our angel brothers who
minister to the heirs of salvation, are not strangers to our earth
and its inhabitants, nor to the situation of our lowly homes, or the
nature of our "honest trades;" for the angel who commanded
Cornelius to send for Peter, knew this old town of Jaffa, and knew
also the name, the house, and the trade of Simon.

The great sea, whose blue waves danced before us in the sun-
light, and spread themselves to the horizon to wash the shores of
Europe beyond, seemed also to partake of the light shed from the
rision revealed to the inner eye of the Apostle when praying
beneath this blue sky. He had gazed on this sea, unchanged
since then in its features, and unwrinkled by time ; but as he did
su.hu little knew what endless blessings of Christian consolation
and of spiritual life were given to our Western world in promise,
and lei down from Heaven with that white sheet! The lesson
thus symbolically taught, filled him with pain as it destroyed his
past, but tills us with gratitude as it secured our future.

N . ■ t • could we forget, while standing there, that the first link
which unconsciously bound the Apostle to Europe, was the person
of an Italian; that, at their first meeting, the Roman knelt to
Peter, and was rebuked in the memorable words, " Stand up, for
I also am a man!" And, remembering all this, the question
naturally suggested itself, what that same Peter would have
thought it' another vision, ascending, we must suppose, from the
earth, rather than descending from Heaven, had pictured to him
wli;it future Italians would do and say in his name ? And had that
tdsion also represented the magnificent Cathedral of "St. Peter,
with a statue of himself as its chief attraction to successive thou-
sands of "Italian bands" who would kneel devoutly before it, it
may be further asked, whether he would have recognised in such
;i spectacle a true expression of his own Christianity, and a neces-
sary "development" of either the principles or practices of the

primitive and apostolic Church which he represented I Would
he not l)c disposed rather to s.iv, with the prophel of old, when
contemplating a similar vision: "So 1 lifted up mine eyefi the
way towards the north, and beheld northward a1 thi oi the

altar this image of jealousy in the entry ! "

One has also an excellent view of the harbour of Jaffa from thi
same spot. The coast of Syria has really no harbours -such as
we mean by the name. It is a line of sand, against which the
inland ocean of the Mediterranean thunders with the full force
and volume of its waves. The existence of a few rocky ledgi -
like a coral reef running parallel to the shore, forming a break-
water to the small lagoon inside, lias alone made harbours possible

and, with harbours, commerce and direct communication with

the outer world. Yet, had these been more commodious and
common than they are, the separateness of the land from the resi
of the world (for which it was selected in order to educate ferael)
would have been sacrificed. As it is, the balance is nicely adjusted
between exclusiveness from the outer world and union with it.
To this small reef of rocks Jaffa, the only seaport of the land
of Israel, owes its existence, as well as its continuance from the
earliest period of history until the present day. Within thai
pond, sheltered from the foaming breakers outside, man] a vessel
lay in peace before even the days of Joshua (eh. xix. 46
Belonging as it did to the tribe of Dan, there " Dan remained
in ships" (Judges v. 17). Through that opening, bul ten feel
wide, to the west, vessels have sailed, and plunged into the de< p
sea—Jonahs among them,— for thousands of years. Through
the other opening, of much the same size, to the aorth, have
come the floats of cedar trees from Lebanon for rebuilding the
house of the Lord. The old town lias sen man) adventures, an. I
the cry of battle from the wars of the Maccabees, the Etonians,
the Saracens, the Crusaders, has risen around its walls, and within
its houses. The Alexander of modern days, Napoleon, has trodden

86 EASTWARD.

its streets, and walked in his pride through its Plague Hospital,
whether to kill <»r cure it is difficult to say. The fusillade of that
terrible massacre of M)00 prisoners (as it is alleged) on the sands,
echoed for hours among its streets. Yet its history is not so
eventful as that of most of the old Eastern towns which survive
the wrecks of time.

But we musl leave the house-top, and keep our appointment at
the hotel to prepare for our journey, which is to begin in real
earnest on the morrow.

I have already informed the reader of the important fact, that
we had hired at Cairo a certain Hadji Ali as our dragoman. True
to his engagement, he had met us on the Russian steamer and
accompanied as to Jaffa. "Hadji" was an honourable addition
mad./ to the name of Ali Abu Ealawy (recommended by "Murray/'
alias my learned and excellent friend Professor Porter, of Belfast),
and it represented the fact that its possessor had made the
pilgrimage to Mecca. What his motives were in doing so, I do
not pretend to know. It may have been in response to his sense
of duty, his ideas of piety, or of what might be helpful to him as
a dragoman wandering among the tribes of the desert, Be thai
as it may, we had hired him as the consecrated, saintly Hadji Ali.
Now it musl be confessed that the Hadji did not look like a
v;i1 "' such as our Western minds conceive one to be. If he was
one, he had the gift of concealing the saint and revealing the
sinner. But, to do him justice, this revelation was more j n an
unpleasanl sinister twist of his under jaw, in the bandit look of
In- gaiters, and in the wide-awake, vet reserved and cunning
expression of his eyes, than in any word he ever uttered, or in any
act he ever committed during our journey.

Hadji had made arrangements for the road, and wished us to
* ' "'"' horses and be satisfied with his selection- a most difficuH
;il)(1 importanl piece of business! We met at the door of the

JAF FA.

hotel — one of those peculiar Eastern bostelriea of which I -li ill
afterwards speak— 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
an<l camels groan, without disturbing us more than the waves
disturb Ailsa Craig or I Gibraltar.

V.
NEIJY SAMWIL.

I HAVE already stated that there arc two great thoroughfares
from Jaffa to Jerusalem — the one by Ramleh, and the other by
the Beth-horons and Gibeon — and that we chose the latter. We
did so that we might traverse the scene of Joshua's great battle
with the "five kings," and also obtain our first general view of
Palestine, including Jerusalem, from Neby Samwil.

But before bringing the reader to this famous spot, and picturing
to him as best we can, wli.it we saw from it, we must begin, like
mosi gossips, a1 the beginning, which in this case is our early start
from the tent, when there is a scene common to all mornings in a
Palestine tour.

The tents and baggage precede the travellers, in order that

everything may be ready on their arrival at the end of the day's

journey, which implies the tents pitched, the luggage arranged,

the candles lighted, and the dinner ready. "Where shall we

encamp?" is therefore the first question for the day which must

be discussed with the dragoman. It is one not always easy of

solution : for various matters must be taken into account — such as

the distance to be travelled, the probability of pitching among

civil neighbours, or of finding a Sheik who may be known to the

dragoman ; the supply of water, good shelter, and the chance of

procuring provisions. The camping-ground being settled, pre-

p ixations are made for the start. It is obviously most conducive

to comfort to "break the back of the day" in the cool of the

morning and before noon. It is therefore in vain that a lazy or

Nl.liV SAMWIL

sleepy man wishes to enjoy "a little more Bleep ;i| "l ;i little more
slumber;" in vain may he, in the weakness of the flesh and for
the credit of his conscience, assert, half asleep, half awake, thai he

had a restless night, fur his companions testily to a i tinued

snore from him like the burst of waves en a stony beach. Of

course their testimony he indignantly rejects as i >mpetent, —

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

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

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

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

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 \<t\ surely, 1 began to feel thai thia
was indeed the real Mount of Olives !

Never did I retire to rest with deeper thanksgiving than on my
first night in Jerusalem. Ever and anon as the mind woke up,
while the body gradually sank into repose, the thought, " I am in
Jerusalem !" more and more inspired me with a grateful si o
God's goodness and mercy in having enabled me to enter it.

Before saying anything of next day's visits, 1 musl d< clare thai
I abjure all discussions, with a few exceptions afterwards to be
noticed, as to the antiquities of Jerusalem; and shah 1 give no
opinion on any of its old walls, first, second, or third, or upon the
value of this or that closed-up archway or crumbling ruin. Like
most travellers I had "crammed" to some extenl before leaving
home, and brought a box of books with me, and sundry articles
and pamphlets to "study" on the spot. Bui finding my time
short, and impressed with the utter impossibility of forming a
sounder opinion on controverted questions in Jerusal< m than in
my own room at home, I vowed to separate myself from any of
the party who mentioned "the tower Bippicus " — one of the
bones, a sort of hip-joint, of great importance, and of greal con-
tention, in the reconstruction of the old skeleton. I preferred to
receive, if possible, some of the living impn ssions which the place
was fitted to impart ; to get, if possible, a go< d fr< sh whiff fri m
the past — an aroma, if not from Jerusalem, yel from \

* It may be worth mentioning that the onhj Bound which brol ■
the night was the crowing- of cocks. This qi v< r a -■ d. It is i \ id< at, tin
that the hour when Peter denied bis Lord cannol be Bx< d by th( •

unchangeable in her general features, us revealed on the slopes
and in the valleys of Olivet, or in the silent recesses around
Bethany. I succeeded in doing so,at leasl to my own satisfaction,
from the moment I dropped " the tower Eippicus."

One word more of preliminary remark. Within the walls — if
we except perhaps the Temple Area, that one grand spot of
surpassing interest in Jerusalem— there is not a street which
either the Saviour or his Apostles ever trod. The present road-
ways, if they even follow the old lines, are above the rubbish
which "many a fathom deep" covers the ancient causeway.
There is not one house standing on which we can feed certain that
our Lord ever gazed, unless it be the old tower at the Jaffa Gate.
So let us for the present dismiss every attempt to associate that
past with "the Jerusalem which now is." We may feel disap-
pointed at this, yet I believe that it must be so. The heavens
above and the hills around, not the streets beneath, are the same.

It is modern Jerusalem, then, which in the meantime we must
glance at ; and the first place which naturally attracts us is the
Church of the so-called "Holy Sepulchre."

We enter an inner court by a narrow doorway. Squatted on
every side are rows of East* rns, \\\\o are selling, with well-defined
profit-and-loss count* nan< es, all the accompaniments of "religious"
worship— beads, incense, crucifixes, pilgrim shells, staffs, &c. &c. ;
while a ceaseless crowd from all lands is passing to and fro. What
the outside of this church is like, the illustration at p. 132 will
tell better than any mere description.

Now we must understand, first of all, that this church is ;i \er\
large one, so that under the one roof are several chapels in which
different "communions" worship. These do not of course call
themselves "sects," lor that would Look as if the one true
Apostolic Church could be divided. Each church only calls every
ether a sect. But while there is 1 his one tine. Apostolic, Catholic
Church, as distinct from the sadly divided Protestant Churches,

J KK ISA 1.1 \1 WITHIN

II. W Al I ■

\cl a Protestant, much more an unfortunati l'i

pardoned if he does no1 a1 oner discov< r the fad \\li< □ I" i

the building — the only one, be ii remembered is

Christendom where "Apostolic" Churches mi ei l< i i i

find their unity, as sonic allege, or their difference -. accordii
others, around the tomb of Christ. The Greek Church, < 'atholic
and Apostolic," representing, as it docs, some eighty millioi

Ground Plan of the Church of the 1 1 ■ >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 «<t' Scotland),
or those of the Church of the Holy Sepulclnv, with its incense,
pictures, images, and mummeries? It lias hem asked which
Church "the Fathers" of the earlier and middle ages would
recognise as theirs if they rose from the dead and visited the
Roman Catholic and Protestant churches? But what. 1 ask m
reply, would have been the judgment of earlier and greater I
—the Apostles ? What would St. Paul think 1 Would he ]
nise the Church of the Sepulchre as more in accordance wit
Christianity and his habitual forms of worship, than Bit
Gobat's? Of which would he say, This reminds me of the early
Church? It is impossible, I think, to doubt his reply. I

138 EASTWARD.

Church of the Sepulchre would perhaps remind him of some of
the features of the old Temple service which had passed away,
with its attractiveness to the eye. and its "carnal ordinances," but
not assuredly of his Apostolic Church. No, no! Let us have
Worship in spirit and in truth, freed from all that can hinder, but
including all that can assist, the living spiritual man to hold
direct communion through Christ with the living God.

There is one other spot within the walls of Jerusalem to which
I would conduct the reader — yet with greater awe, with greater
fear and trembling, from my feeling as to the unspeakable interest
attached to it — and that is the Haram es Sherif, or the site of the
old Temple, and, dare I add, of the real Holy Sepulchre ?

It is but as yesterday — immediately after the Crimean War —
that this sacred enclosure could be entered by any except Moslems,
or those who cared to pass themselves off as Moslems at the risk
of their lives. All, without respect of persons, but not without
respect of purse, can enter it now. There must no doubt be a
few forms gone through, but these your dragoman manages ; and
they are not more serious than what travellers are familiar with
in most European cities, when " orders" have to be obtained, and
signed and countersigned by heads of Police or of Government,
while the "guide" or " commissionaire " magnifies the difficulty
of getting them, the secret in every case, East and West, being
the old golden key — backsheesh. To see the Temple Area the
backsheesh is pretty heavy, amounting, as far as I can recollect,
though I am not certain, to about 11. for each traveller. But
never was money paid with more good will than that which
admitted us to the most memorable spot on the face of the
whole earth.

The general shape of the Haram, or Temple Area, will be easily
understood by the help of the plan on the opposite page. It is
nearly a parallelogram, its greatest length being 1 ">()() 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

; -,•$!=»>

' to ;

- \i

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. |<V the lower hills to the east, the

smoke from the doomed cities could be easily seen, although the
Dead Sea itself lies too low to be visible.

Hebron is entered by a road which winds between the walls

that enclose the vineyards and orchards of Eshcol, the grapi
which are still famous.* Jt is snugly nestled amidst hare, tame,
limestone hills, with numerous olive groves clothing their lower
spurs and the valleys between them. There is no " hotel in the
city, hut travellers who do not bring their tents can be accom-
modated at the old Lazaretto, or, as we were, in a private dwelling.
The houses are poverty stricken. The Jewish inhabitants wear
dressing-gowns with girdles, and sugar-loaf hats, curl their hair in
tiny ringlets, and have soft white faces, giving one the impression
of great effeminacy. Our host was a dew. His house was situated
and arranged in a way which at once suggested the idea of danger,
of liability to attack, and of the necessity of providing for defence.
We first passed from the street by what we call in Scotland a narrow
close, which one broad-shouldered man might almosl have filled up
with his own person ; then along narrow tortuous windings, which

* I have been informed by one who had, lie raid, made the experiment, that
even now the b< st way of carrj Lng a large cluster of the g rapes of Eshcol is over a
Long pole, as was done by the " spies," -not on account of their weight, but from
the long tendrils on which they grow giving a clust ir a greater length than i<
found in the same number of grapes gr iwn elsewhere. A- to the wine of Eebron
and B( thlehem- of \\ bich we had supplies not being intoxicating, that is al surd,
[f any one disposed to make the experiment can overcome the difficulty of quality,
I have no doubt thai a sufficient quant.tj will produce the rami other

fermented liquors.

2 , 4 EASTWARD.

could be easily defended by a few against many. Three or four
steps led up to the narrow door of the house, which was situated in
the deep recesses of alleys and back courts. The entrance-hall was
a sleeping apartment with divans on each side ; from it a second
series of steps ami another narrow door led to the kitchen. From
this a stair ascended to the fiat roof. On the Left, a few -to],. Led
from the kitchen to a small room, round which wo found our
couches spread. The house thus possessed a succession of strong-
holds before the roof was reached, which was itself a citadel. The
windows of our room had frames and shutters, but no glass, which
afforded us at least ample ventilation. We provided of course
our own food. The night was tolerably cool, and so, in despite of
the howlings of jackals without, and the attacks of insects common
to Jew and Gentile within, we slept, as usual, profoundly.

There is certainly no town in Palestine which is so associated
witli early patriarchal history as Hebron. It has other associations
no doubt, stirring and curious enough. For example, those con-
nected with its early inhabitants, the strange race of giants who
struck terror into the minds of the unbelieving spies ; with those
men of faith. Caleb and Joshua; and with David/- who reigned
here for seven years, during which he probably composed some of
his immortal Psalms. But still the memories of the patriarchs
predominate, as this was at once their home, if home they had
;in\ where, and their place of burial.

The oak, or terebinth tree, which is now pointed out as Abra-
ham's oak, is indeed a noble tree, twenty-four feet in circumference,
with stately branches sweeping ninety feet round its stem. Put it
was planted many a century after the patriarchs were gathered to
their fathers.

The one spot connected with these ancient fathers which is uii-

* The only memento hereof David is the great pool— 1.".<> 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 <■""/'
</'. tat.

A DAY'S RIDE So I'll I FROM JER1 AI.I.M.

!19

imparts to it such overwhelming interest. It is the one facl of .-ill
facts, the secret of the world's existence and of its whole bi I
the Incarnation. Other events indeed are necessarily suggi
while sitting under the shade of its old olives, gazing in silent

meditation on the surrounding landscape. From these m tains

of Moab came Ruth and Naomi. One of those fields 3tretchine
like a green landing-place a1 the fool of the broad stairs of
cultivated terraces, was the scene of thai exquisite idyll of Ruth
gleaning "amidsl the alien corn," which sanctifies common life,
shedding a glory over every field of reapers, like thai which rests
over the lilies of the Held, and is greater far than any winch
Solomon ever knew. To these far-off hills, too, David Benl his
wives for safety, just as a Highland chief in similar circumstano -
would have sent his wife in the days of the chins, t<> 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 <Mm
from the nature of the country, how there must have been ;i strong
temptation on the part of Ephraim to lean on his own arm of flesh,
and to say, " I am rich and increased in goods and have need of
nothing ;" ami also to si \k to make himself the In 'a' I of the nation,
and to prefer Samaria to Jerusalem,— just as England would not
brook to have Edinburgh for its capital.

The richest and most magnificent expanse of cultivated soil we
saw on this journey was the plain of Mukhra, which extends for
about seven miles. It suddenly burst on our view from the summit
of a high ridge over which our road passed. The promontories of
Gerizim and Ebal plunge their rocky headlands into it from the
west, while a range of low hills separate it from the descent towards
the Jordan on the east. We skirted tins plain, until we sat down
under the shadow of Gerizim, to read and to meditate, a- pilgrims
have done for centuries, at Jacob's Well.

There has never been a doubt entertained by the m »sl sceptical
or critical traveller regarding the identity of this well. Bej >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 <pies-
t i> .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>^

'■- • 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<t the Jews, it was vet for the
Samaritans, and for all men who would worship God in spirit and
in truth. And so when giving commandment on the day of His
ascension regarding the preaching of the Gospel, He remembered
Samaria. And His disciples, too, remembered and obeyed His
words, for Philip went down to preach there, as did also Peter and
John, to strengthen the faith of the believers. So in spite of
Omri and Ahab, and all the devil's work down to the days of
Simon Mag-us, a church was formed, " and great joy was in that
city"- a joy which no one has taken from its lowliest member,
who passed in Christ from the old Samaria now in ruins, to the
new Jerusalem eternal in the heavens '

XI.
SAMARIA TO TIBER] \>

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<j;<, 1 gazed out. feeling painfully.
as I often did before, the difficulty of " taking it all in." I in n
repeated " This is Nazareth! Here— in this town — am »ng tin-
hills — Jesus was brought up as a child, and was subjecl to 1 1 ■
meek and loving mother, 'full of grace : here as a l>"\ ' 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
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 '